#you can tell jessa is taking over my brain

[sofairyy]

really messy school doodles

[pedrospatch]

to hell and back l two

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, reader has a flashback, mentions of slavers, implied threat of assault, guns, reader gets groped, reader has a panic attack, a lot of angst, trauma. soft Joel, protective Joel, and i even threw in some domestic Joel because just imagine that old man making you a nice lil late night snack. 🥹 i think i got most of the major warnings out of the way, i’m sorry if i missed anything!

Word Count: 8.7k

Smoke was coming off my jacket

and you didn’t seem to mind

I left a long trail of ashes and

you said, I like your style

California l Spring, 2023

Your hand trembled slightly as you gripped your pistol and aimed it at his chest.

You’d never pointed your gun at another human being before. At least not one that was still alive.

“Hey now, it’s alright. You can trust us.”

Anxiously, you glimpsed from the man who had just spoken to the woman who stood beside him.

Surely the two had to be related. Both possessed the same fiery red hair, a face full of freckles, and vivid green eyes. They stood before you with their weapons lowered in an attempt to show you that they weren’t a threat to your safety. 

The man, who had to be in his mid to late thirties, moved to step forward, but halted in his tracks when he caught sight of the way your finger had twitched over the trigger. “My name is Mark,” he said, carefully gesturing to himself with his free hand. In his opposite hand, he clutched his rifle, an assault style weapon that made your gun look like a fucking toy in comparison. Still, it was you who had the upper hand, at least for now. “This here is my sister. Her name is Jessa.” He paused and when you said nothing, he asked, “Can you tell us your name?”

Chewing your bottom lip, you shook your head at him in response. 

You didn’t trust them.

Not quite yet.

Jessa, who was younger and looked to be closer to your own age, offered you a kind smile. “That’s alright. You don’t have to tell us your name until you feel comfortable.” She took a look around at the small, makeshift camp that you had made for yourself. “Are you all by yourself, sweets?”

You quickly wracked your brain. 

“No,” You fibbed. “I’m with my father. He should be back any minute now. He’s armed and he does not take all too kindly to strangers, so you’d best be on your way before he sees you.” You added in a steadier tone, “He won’t even think twice. He’ll just kill you on the spot, so you better leave right now. Or else.”

Amused, Mark let out a soft chuckle. “Oh, come on now, dollface. You don’t have to lie to us,” he stated, shaking his head. “Let’s try this again and let’s be honest this time, alright? How long have you been alone?”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed harshly. 

Fuck.

He had seen right through the bullshit threat. 

“For about three or four days now,” You admitted, your shoulders sagging in defeat. “I was with my father and my sister. The three of us were on our way up north. We were trying to get to Seattle to the quarantine zone, but then they were—”

You suddenly stopped.

It felt like someone had driven their fist right into your gut, knocking all the wind out of your lungs and hindering your ability to speak.

You couldn’t even say it out loud.

Gruesome images of them being torn apart limb from limb flashed through your mind. Bile slowly started climbing its way up your throat and your stomach churned violently.

You were going to be sick.

“Are they both dead?” Mark questioned you.

You nodded, whispering shakily, “Yes.”

Jessa frowned. “I’m so sorry for your loss, honey. If it’s any consolation, me and Mark know exactly how it feels. We lost our entire family about three years ago. It’s the hardest thing we’ve ever been through.” Swinging back her own rifle behind her, she approached you and reached out, placing her hand over yours—the one that was still clutching your weapon. She didn’t even so much as flinch at the way the barrel was now pointed at her, how it was just an inch or two away from her chest. It didn’t seem to faze her that all it would take was you bringing your index finger down a bit harder on the trigger and she would be dead. “We know you must be fucking terrified, but it’s okay. You can trust us. We’re good, honest people and we just want to help you. But we can’t do that if you try and kill us, now can we?”

Slowly, Jessa guided you to lower your gun. She then looked over her shoulder, exchanging a look with her brother, as if asking him to back her up.

“Yeah. She’s right. We just want to help you,” he repeated after her. “We aren’t going to hurt you. If we wanted to, we probably would have by now, don’t you think so?”

You let out a tiny breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding and loosened your iron grip on your pistol.

He did make a fair point.

Now that your gun was pointed at the ground, he could have easily killed you. And yet, he’d made no move to blow your fucking head off. 

Maybe they really were good people.

But what if they weren’t?

What if it was just a trap?

You didn’t know what to fucking think.

All you knew was that you were so helplessly lost now that your family was gone.

You were afraid.

Alone.

Jessa turned back to you. “Listen, we’re part of a settlement,” she informed you. “It’s not all too far from here, maybe six or seven miles tops. We’ve got a really big group of people and we’re always looking to bring in anyone in need. Come with us, sweets. There’s plenty of food, water, and we can you into some fresh, clean clothes too. How does that sound?” 

You momentarily hesitated, still unsure whether or not you could trust the two strangers. 

How did it sound?

It sounded too fucking good to be true.

“It’s a safe place,” Mark assured you from behind her. He could see the reluctance written all over your face. 

“It’s as safe as safe can be,” Jessa promised. She touched your arm and flashed you another smile, one that was more kind than the first—one that was so comforting it made you feel like you could actually trust her. “So? What do you say? Will you come back with us? Will you let us help you?”

You nervously bit the inside of your cheek.

Scared, starving, and exhausted, their offer for a safe haven was much too tempting to decline.

Besides, how long could you possibly survive out here all on your own?

“Alright,” You finally agreed after a moment. “I’ll come with you.”

“There’s just one condition,” Mark stated, falling into step beside his sister in front of you. “We’re going to need you to hand over your weapon.”

“What?” You stared at him. “Why?”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s protocol,” he said, waving a hand dismissively at you. “It’s purely for safety reasons. Anyone who comes into our group must surrender their weapons. We want to be sure that we’re bringing in someone who isn’t going to be a threat to our people. We have children, so we just want to be cautious, you know?”

“I guess that does makes sense,” You admitted. 

“You’ll get it back,” Jessa reassured you. “Once you speak to the council and they determine you aren’t a threat, you’ll get your gun back. Okay?”

Left with very little choice, you agreed. “Okay.”

Mark held out his hand for the weapon.

Slowly, you placed your pistol in his open palm.

“Perfect.” Jessa chirped. “Now grab your things and let’s get going. If we hurry up, we can make it back before nightfall.”

Nodding, you turned around to grab your pack. 

The second you turned your back, the barrel of the same gun you’d just handed to Mark poked you between your shoulder blades and you froze, your blood running cold in your veins.

“Hands up, bitch,” Jessa commanded. Her warm and friendly tone had vanished. “And turn around towards me slowly. Now.”

Terrified, you did as you were told and you lifted both of your hands, turning around on the heel of your sneaker to face her.

Her expression, much like her tone, was frigid.

Hostile.

“You’re going to do exactly as I say when I say it.” She held up her rifle, aiming it at you. “And if you don’t, you fucking die. Do you understand?”

“Please,” You choked out. “Don’t—”

“Do you fucking understand?” Jessa repeated in a hiss, her finger hovering over the trigger. When she was met with a small, meek nod, she turned to look at her brother. “Cuff her.”

Mark smirked. He tucked your gun away into the waistband of his jeans and reached into his back pocket, pulling out a pair of rusted handcuffs. He walked around and stood behind you, instructing, “Hands behind your back.” Once he had both of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to slip on the cuffs, tightening them so hard that the old oxidized steel dug painfully into your skin. “She’s a pretty one,” he murmured. As soon as he made certain the cuffs were securely fastened, he put a hand on your ass, groping it roughly. “Oh, you’re going to be popular with the guys, dollface. Kind of makes me want to break you in, right here and right now—give me a few minutes with her, Jess.”

Completely paralyzed with fear, all you could do was stand there in silence as his hands continued to roam your lower body, feeling you up through your jeans. He squeezed at your inner thigh, then brushed up over your zipper.

“Mark! That’s not what she’s for, you idiot,” Jessa reminded him, rolling her eyes. “Now quit fucking around and let’s start heading back to camp.”

She whirled around and started leading the way.

Mark grinned and pressed his mouth to your ear as he whispered in cruel reassurance, “Don’t you worry, now. I’ll get my chance with you—we’re all going to our chance with you.”

He grabbed you by your upper arm and roughly shoved you forward, leading you to what would inevitably be hell on earth.

Joel leans against the tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes are fixed intently on you, carefully observing you from where he stands, more so out of concern rather than curiosity. Something isn’t right.

It’s late in the afternoon and the two of you had been about halfway into the six hour trek down south to Jackson when Joel offered to stop for a while, just long enough for the both of you to rest and take a quick breather, find a second wind before finishing the journey—but as he continues watching you, Joel starts to realize that perhaps stopping had done you much more harm than it’s done you good. 

Just a few feet away from where he’s standing and keeping a watchful eye on you, you sit perched on top of a small, flat boulder hugging your knees up to your chest with both hands wrapped tightly around the grip of your pistol. 

You’re in a trance like state, staring straight off into the distance at nothing in particular. Your face is completely blank. Emotionless. It appears that while all the lights are on, nobody is fucking home. 

Squinting against the sunlight, Joel takes a closer look at you. He sees it so clearly, the faraway look in your eyes. 

You are gone. You’ve checked out and completely disconnected from reality. 

He would go as far as saying you’ve disconnected from this fucking planet.

You’re sinking, slowly drowning in some kind of thought or perhaps it was a memory—whatever it is that’s currently preoccupying your mind, it sure as hell isn’t anything good. He has no fucking clue how he’d managed to clock it so easily, so quickly, but Joel had sensed something was wrong the instant you’d drifted off. 

The deeper you go and the further you lose yourself, the harder your hands clutch at your grin, the thin delicate skin on your knuckles stretching taught over the bones. It’s not until Joel notices the way your chest begins to rise and fall rapidly as your breaths quicken, the way you start struggling for air, that he knows it’s time for him to intervene before you worsen and suffocate under the weight of whatever it is that’s sitting so heavily on you. 

Pushing himself away from the tree, Joel begins to approach you, taking extra care so as not to spook you into turning your pistol on him and pulling the trigger in a moment of panic. He lifts both of his hands and holds them out in front of him. Cautiously, Joel makes his way over towards where you’re sitting on the boulder, his footsteps slow and careful. 

“Hey,” he calls out to you, keeping his tone firm, but somehow still gentle as he tries to garner your attention. When you don’t even acknowledge him or his presence, he tries again, speaking a little bit louder. “Hey. S’okay. S’alright. Everythin’ is alright—come on back now.” Joel draws closer and closer to you, taking tiny step after tiny step on the steel toes of his worn, black leather boots. “S’alright, darlin’. I need you to come back to me now, okay? You ain’t where you think you are. You’re alright—”

The sound of a twig snapping underneath his boot startles you. Jumping to your feet, you aim your gun at him with shaking hands and wild, terrified eyes. 

Even as your finger trembles over the trigger, Joel remains calm. “Hey, c’mon. Take it easy. S’okay. You’re alright. Look, it’s me. It’s just me and I ain’t gonna do anythin’ to hurt you,” he swears. He shows you his empty hands, hoping that you would be able to snap out of it and realize that he isn’t a threat. That you aren’t in any kind of danger. But as you hold your weapon, chest heaving as you panic, Joel knows it doesn’t matter that his hands are empty. It doesn’t make a fucking difference. He knows it isn’t him who is standing in front of you.

It’s someone else. Whoever you were seeing standing there in his place, it’s someone who had done god knows what to you. Joel has a gut wrenching hunch it had something to do with the marks he’d seen around your wrists back at the cabin. The mere thought of it is enough to send an unpleasant chill up and down the length of his spine. 

Joel speaks again. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He feels the sudden urge to reach out for you, but knowing it would be unwelcome, he resists it. All he can do is try and use his words to bring you back to the present. Back to him. “Breathe. You’re safe. I need you to breathe, can you do that for me? Do you think you can breathe for me, darlin’?”

Somehow, his voice penetrates its way in through the thickness of the white fog that you’d been lost in. You had been stumbling around helplessly in it, desperately searching for a way through. Joel’s heavy, deep Southern drawl permeates the memory, causing the haunting images from that fateful day when your life had taken a sharp turn for the worst to dissolve into nothing. 

“Just breathe. Nice and slow. Inhale through your nose, then out through your mouth. Easy does it.” Joel controls his own breathing, slowing it down to demonstrate. He inhales deeply through his nose and exhales slowly through his mouth. 

You stare at him with wide eyes as you fight to get the rise and fall of your chest to match his. How the hell do you know what to do? 

Joel can practically hear your question ringing in your mind amidst the chaos. “My kid, she gets these awful nightmares sometimes. Wakes up in a panic thinkin’ she’s somewhere else, somewhere she ain’t safe. So my brother’s wife, Maria, well she was kind enough to show me what to do whenever it happens. She taught me a couple different breathin’ techniques that help soothe Ellie and calm her down. Told me it helps if I do them with her,” he explains to you. He can tell that you’re now coming out of the worst of it and that you’re finally starting to get some oxygen back into your lungs. He lowers his hands. Your pistol is still aimed at him, but Joel trusted you enough to know that you wouldn’t pull the trigger and blow his fucking head off. “C’mon, breathe. There we go. That’s it. Easy does it, now. In through your nose and out through your mouth, that’s it. That’s a good girl.” 

It takes you a good minute or two, but your breaths fall into sync with his own and before you know it, the two of you are breathing together in harmony. 

Oh. You’re not in California.

The man standing before you doesn’t have red hair and green eyes. He doesn’t have that twisted smirk on his face. He isn’t putting his hands on you. He’s not hurting you. He’s helping you. 

Swallowing dryly, you lower your weapon. Your gaze meets Joel’s and somehow you find the courage to look him in his eyes for the very first time. Even though you had turned your gun on him, he doesn’t seem to be bothered by it all. He isn’t upset or angry. The look of worry on his face has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you could have easily killed him just now. It’s as if he’d known for certain that you wouldn’t pull the trigger.

“There we go,” Joel says after another minute passes by. “You see? You’re alright. You’re safe.”

There’s comfort in his words, in his deep brown eyes.

Fuck, there’s comfort in him. 

Still. Your mind refuses to allow you to accept it.

At least, not completely. 

Averting your gaze, you shuffle your weight from one foot to the other and then back again. 

Joel clears his throat lightly. “It’s gettin’ real late,” he murmurs. “We should get a move on. We’ve still got a bit of a way to go and we really don’t wanna get ourselves caught out in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere after dark for too long, y’know?”

You give him a small nod and start to gather up your belongings. You pick up your canteen, which is now almost completely empty after you’d shared your water with him during the first leg of the hike, and shove it into one of the side pockets of your back.

“S’kinda cold,” Joel states. “And it’ll only get colder as nightfall approaches. You, uh—you warm enough in that little denim jacket?”

You shrugged a shoulder at him, not thinking anything much of the question. I’m fine. 

However, as if on cue, a chilly breeze blows its way through Wyoming’s plains, causing you to shiver.

Joel quickly shrugs out of his brown jacket. “You mind if I—?”

You toss him a confused glance. 

Do I mind if you what? 

Joel steps towards you and lifts his arms as if he’s going to put them around you. Flinching, every muscle in your entire body goes rigid and he halts. “S’alright. I’m just gonna give you my jacket, that’s all,” he assures you, his arms frozen midair. He patiently waits for a small nod of approval. Once he has it, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders and then takes several steps back, giving you your space. “Should keep you from freezin’ your ass off out here.”

As he turns around and walks over to where he had set his rifle down, you stand there somewhat stupefied over what he’d just done. Something so simple, and yet you can’t seem to wrap your fucking brain around it. 

Willing yourself to move, you carefully slide both of your arms into the sleeves of his jacket, wrapping it around your body. The scent of him, a mixture of earthy sandalwood and whatever soap he uses to wash his clothes, fills your senses and a strange, but pleasant warmth radiates throughout your chest, gradually spreading itself to the rest of your body from head to toe. 

Ignoring the feeling, you pick up your backpack along with your bow and quiver of arrows, slinging everything over your shoulders. 

Joel slings the strap of his rifle over his shoulder and turns back to you. “Ready to get goin’?”

Pistol in hand, you gesture for him to go ahead and walk in front of you, much like he’d done for the first half of the trip.

He lets out a small sigh. “Alright, I get it. Still don’t fully trust me. Well, we’ll keep workin’ on that, then.”

A couple of hours had gone by. The slanting rays of the setting sun give a warm orange tinge to the skies as late evening begins settling itself in. 

“Y’wanna know somethin’?” Joel asks, breaking the silence between you.

You look up at the back of his head, your eyes fixing themselves on his mop of thick, unkempt salt and pepper waves. Occasionally, as you’d been slowly trudging along behind Joel, you stole glimpses of the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck and brushed against the collar of his henley.

Despite the lack of a response, Joel continues to talk. “Earlier at the cabin, just when I was startin’ to come back around, I heard a woman singin’ to me. At least, it sure seemed like she was singin’ to me. It was a real pretty song too.” He glances over his shoulder at you with curiosity. “Was that you?”

You blink at him, keeping a straight face. 

“Hm, no I s’ppose it wasn’t you,” he answers his own question. He turns his attention back to the path ahead of him. “I reckon that it must have just been some sorta dream I had while I was out cold. But it sounded so vivid, y’ know? It sounded so fuckin’ real. And the strangest part of it all is that I don’t know how it’s even possible for me to dream of a voice like that,” he muses aloud. 

Oh? Unable to help yourself, you move yourself from behind Joel and fall into step beside him. Now it’s you that’s riddled with curiosity. What do you mean by that? 

Joel glances down at you. He grips the leather strap of his rifle and shrugs his shoulders. “Well, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a voice quite like that in my whole entire life,” he tells you. He shrugs once more, his arm brushing against yours by accident. Joel half expected you to deck him for it, but much to his surprise, it doesn’t seem like his touch had bothered you. “It was too fuckin’ gorgeous. So beautiful that part of me wonders if it was someone or somethin’ out of this world.” He pauses and peered at you, detecting a slight glimmer of light in your eyes. “Felt like I had a real life angel singin’ to me.”

You feel the corners of your lips threatening to turn upwards into a smile. Turning your face away from him, it takes everything you had in you to force them back down. 

“Well look at that. You’re walkin’ right next to me,” Joel observes after a minute, raising an eyebrow. 

Your head whips back around.

“Must mean that I’m doin’ somethin’ right, huh darlin’?”

You snort and roll your eyes.

I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking.

Still, you remain at his side. 

The rest of the trek is silent.

Night had just fallen by the time that you and Joel finally made it to Jackson. The moment that you set your sights on the massive wooden gate out in the distance, your heart begins to pound, slamming against your ribcage.

The closer the both of you draw to the barrier, the easier it is for you to see the men and women who are standing on a platform on top of the gate, heavily armed as they keep watch—their lights illuminate the perimeter of the settlement and light up the velvet purple sky. 

You stop dead in your tracks. Oh fuck that.

Joel shakes his head. “S’alright. Don’t be scared.”

There’s six people standing on top of that gate armed with fucking assault rifles. And you don’t expect me to be scared? Are you for real?

“Look, things might be a little tense at first when the patrolmen see us,” he admits, raking a hand through his hair. “None of them have any idea that I’m still alive, but as soon as they see that it’s me, they’re gonna stand down. All I need is for you to stay calm and follow my lead, alright?” He nods at the pistol in your hand. “M’also gonna need for you to put your gun away and out of sight.”

You glare at him, your eyes flashing angrily in the darkness.

You said I could have my weapons on me. 

Joel holds up his hand. “I promise that I ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you, alright? I swear it on my fuckin’ life,” he vows. “You have my word. No one’s gonna hurt you. I won’t let them. Just stay calm and do as I say. Please,” he adds, a hint of desperation lacing his tone. “Y’think you can do that for me?”

Your mind is screaming, begging you to run and run fast. Instead, you find yourself reluctantly tucking your gun into the waistband of your jeans, concealing it just like Joel had asked you to do. 

“Stay behind me,” he instructs, shoving his own rifle behind him. He begins leading the way towards the gate and beckons for you to follow close. 

The second the two of you step out from the darkness and into the light, the sound of firearms cocking breaks through the silence of the night. 

“Stop right there!��� A woman’s voice shouts. “Freeze! Or we’ll fucking shoot!”

“Melissa, it’s me!” Joel calls out, holding up his hands. “It’s Joel!”

“What?”

He huffs and yells again, “It’s Joel!”

“Wait a goddamn minute, everyone fucking stand down!” Melissa loudly barks the order at the five other patrol men and women who are standing on either side of her with their firearms aimed and at the ready. “Joel? Joel Miller, is that really you?” She leans her body forward over the gate and squints at him, letting out an incredulous laugh. “Well butter my fucking ass and call me a goddamn biscuit, the man is fucking alive! Quick, open up the gates! Somebody go and get Tommy! Let’s go, fucking move it people!”

Joel drops his hands, sighing in relief.

You, on the other hand, are scared shitless and wonder if it’s too late to make a run for it. 

“Remember,” he says, looking back at you. “Calm. Okay?”

You force a small, tight nod of your head. 

Okay. 

The gate’s doors pull apart and he leads you up to them and through to the other side where you and Joel are met with a frantic crowd of at least two dozen people—the obnoxious, overlapping chatter coupled with the blatant stares you’re receiving cause an overwhelming feeling of anxiousness to wash over you in a massive wave that, if you allow it, is going to drown you right there on the spot. Refusing to make eye contact with anybody, you fix your gaze on Joel, keeping it focused on the broadness of his back as more and more people circle around the both of you, caging you in with nowhere to run. 

“Joel!” Melissa elbows her way through the large crowd, rushing up to him. She grabs him by the arms, giving him a quick once over. “Holy shit! We thought you were fucking dead! I can’t fucking believe it!”

“Where’s Tommy?” Joel asks her.

“At home with Maria. Lisa went to pull him out of bed—where the hell have you been, Joel? It’s been three fucking days!”

Joel purses his lips together tightly. He can feel you inching yourself forward, trying to stand as close to him as possible as more people join the scene. The toes of your boots touch the heels of his, your chest lightly brushing against his back. While Joel doesn’t blame the people of the town for being curious, he isn’t all too fond of the way they’re staring at you—the gestures and the finger pointing, the mutters and the whispers. He doesn’t have to see you to know it’s making you uncomfortable, and his priority is to get you out of there and somewhere where you would feel safe. “Listen, it’s a real long story that I ain’t got time for right this minute. I need Tommy—”

“Miller!”

A loud, booming voice comes from behind Melissa.

It belongs to a tall, bulky blond haired man—his mere presence is intimidating, proven by how it had taken absolutely nothing for the crowd to part and make room for him to pass through. Smirking, he saunters up to Joel and remarks, “I thought you were a fucking goner.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing. 

The tension between the two men could be sliced with a fucking machete.

His blue eyes flit over Joel’s shoulder to you. “Well, well, well. Who is this sweet little lady?”

You step even closer to Joel, pressing yourself against his backside and taking a fistful of his shirt.

“None of your fuckin’ business, that’s who.”

Keith’s smirk widens. “Actually, as head of safety and security for this community, it fucking is my business,” he reminds him. “She infected?”

Joel raises his eyebrows. “Does she look fuckin’ infected to you?”

“You know the commune’s rules, Miller.” Without tearing his eyes away from you, Keith calls over his shoulder, “Bring out one of the hounds! Now!”

Behind him, Joel hears a small gasp.

Hounds?

Joel whirls around. “Hey, s’alright,” he says quickly before you can start to panic. “We have dogs that have been trained to sniff out the cordyceps infection. S’just gonna smell you, that’s all.”

The crowd backs away as a woman with cropped hair brings out a large black dog on a chain leash attached to a brown leather harness. Once it catches sight of you, the unfamiliar newcomer, the animal begins to bark and growl, thrashing around as it tries to lunge towards you. The dog tugs and pulls at his leash so violently that he nearly knocks his handler over. The woman unclips the leash and sets the dog free—it approaches you, snarling and baring its teeth. 

You start to back away, but Joel stops you.

“Relax,” he mutters to you under his breath. He moves to stand beside you and holds out his hand, offering it in an attempt to comfort you and ease the fear. He hadn’t expected you to accept it, so when you place your hand in his and lace your fingers with his own, he’s taken by complete surprise. 

You squeeze his rough, calloused fingers as the dog comes closer towards you. Nervously, you hold your other hand out to it, prompting it to snap at you, its teeth snapping together. Somehow, you muster enough courage to hold your hand steady and the animal growls, but then gives it a sniff. When it doesn’t detect what it’s searching for, the dog happily wags his tail and gives your hand a friendly lick before running back over to its handler who puts the animal back on the leash. 

You breathe out in relief. 

“There,” Joel snaps at Keith. “You satisfied?”

Keith clicks his tongue. “Almost,” he drawls. He walks over to you, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “What’s your name, dollface?”

Your stomach drops at the nickname. Looking down at the dirt, you don’t reply.

“Aw, she’s shy! Well isn’t that just adorable.” Keith lets out a raspy laugh, causing a couple of the onlookers to laugh along with him. “What’s the matter, sweetie pie? Hm? Cat got your tongue?”

Joel drops your hand, his nostrils flaring. “Back off asshole or else—”

Ignoring him, the blond patrolman eyes the weapon hanging on your shoulder. “That’s a really nice bow you’ve got there,” Keith states, cutting off Joel’s threat. “But we do have rules here. Newcomers have to surrender their weapons so they can be stored away securely. We don’t know you and until we can know for sure you won’t be a threat to the people of this town, you’re going to have to surrender that bow along with all other weapons you’re carrying.” Keith lowers his voice as he adds, “And I would advise you not to try and hide anything because I’m going to be the one to pat you down—and I’ll be thorough. I don’t take all too kindly to liars, so keep that in mind.”

“You just threaten her in front of me?” Trying his hardest not to cause a scene with so many people watching the three of you, Joel keeps his voice low and quiet—but the sharp, dangerous edge to his tone can’t be missed. 

“Of course I didn’t,” Keith responds, innocently. “All I was doing was letting her know how we work around here in Jackson. We’ve been operating the town the same way for years now for a good reason. The rules we set in place apply to any and all newcomers, regardless of who they came here with.” He holds out his hands to you. “Surrender all of your weapons to me. Now.”

Shaking your head, you take a step back. This was not what you’d agreed to. This wasn’t the promise that Joel had made you back at the cabin. 

Joel glares at him. “She ain’t surrenderin’ a goddamn thing—”

It’s too late.

Keith steps towards you and goes for the bow. As his hand shoots out to take it from your shoulder, you quickly turn your body and swiftly dodge it. He feels his face burn with red hot anger as several onlookers gasp at your act of rebelliousness. Furious, Keith reaches for you again and grabs you, taking the upper part of your arm in a harsh grip that makes you squeak out in pain. 

You lift your opposite arm and swing a curled fist up towards his face, but he catches your wrist in his other hand before it can connect with his jawline. 

Joel!

You try to say his name, but you fucking can’t. 

Your mouth opens and nothing comes out. For as hard you push and try to force it, you can’t find your voice. Instead, all that falls from your lips is a pathetic, strangled little cry. You yank and pull, struggling as you try to tear yourself out of Keith’s grasp. 

Livid, Joel nearly goes fucking blind with rage. He snatches Keith by the collar of his leather jacket, ripping him away from you. Though he’s still sore as from the fall off of his horse three days ago, he uses every ounce of strength he has left in him to throw him down into the dirt at the feet of a fellow patrolman named Wyatt. “Don’t. Fuckin’. Touch. Her.” He barely manages to bite out the words through gritted teeth. “Ever.”

Wyatt helps him up to his feet. “You alright, man?”

“Get the fuck off me!” Keith snarls, pushing him away. His chest is heaving and his face turns a deep shade of red. Whether it’s because he’s embarrassed or if it’s because he’s angry, no one can quite tell the difference. One thing is for damn sure, he isn’t used to someone going against his authority and everyone watching holds their breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do next. After all, the man going against him happened to be their leader’s brother in law. “What the fuck is your goddamn problem, Miller? It’s protocol—”

“Not today it ain’t.”

Keith approaches him, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. He stands so close that the two of them are chest to chest, ready to tear each other to shreds. “Do you think just because your fucking brother is second in command, you can just do as you please? Is that it?” He questions, bitterly. “It doesn’t fucking work like that. We have rules set in place for a reason, Joel. We are going to do this by the fucking book whether your little girlfriend here likes it or not, got it?”

Stepping around him, he starts towards you but Joel is quick to block his path. He stands in front of you and squares his shoulders.

He speaks, his voice dangerously low. “You listen and you listen good. If you even so much as think about layin’ another fuckin’ finger on her, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of tonight pickin’ up your teeth off the ground. You understand me?”

“That a threat?”

“It ain’t a threat. It’s a fuckin’ promise.”

Keith pulls his arm back and he’s about ready to take a swing when he’s stopped by the sound of Tommy Miller’s frantic voice. 

“Joel! Where is he—where the fuck is Joel?”

The much younger, raven haired man approaches the scene, shrugging a blue denim jacket over his cotton white t-shirt. The instant that he spots Joel, he runs up to him and throws his arms around his shoulders. “Fuckin’ Christ, I thought I fuckin’ lost you out there! What the hell happened?”

“Where’s Ellie?” Joel demands. “She okay?”

“She’s fast asleep at my place with Maria and the baby. She’s been with us this entire time.”

Joel’s shoulders sag in relief.

Tommy looks around, frowning. “What’s going on? What’s everyone doin’ out here?” He then sees you and raises his eyebrows at his older brother. “Joel? Who’s that?”

“Look, I’ll explain everything, can we just—can we talk in private?”

Although he’s confused, Tommy nods. 

“Of course. C’mon, let’s go back to my place.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Tommy states as soon as Joel had finished recounting the story—well, what he could remember, anyway. It wasn’t much.

You’re sitting beside Joel across the table from Tommy and Maria in the kitchen of their home. All three of them speak in quiet, hushed voices so as not to wake Ellie and Samuel, Tommy and Maria’s infant son. Maria had offered to go upstairs to pull Ellie out of bed so that she and Joel could reunite, but when Tommy mentioned tonight had been the first night since Joel had gone missing three days ago that she had finally managed to fall asleep, everyone agreed it would be best to wait until the morning. 

“So, she saved your life,” Tommy concludes. His brown eyes, even darker than those of his older brother, flicker over to you once again. You sit there in complete silence, staring at the top of the wooden table, refusing to meet his gaze—or that of his wife. 

Joel nods. “She did, Tommy. I don’t fuckin’ know how, but what I do know is that if it wasn’t for her, then I wouldn’t be sittin’ here at this table right now.”

You shuffle uncomfortably in your chair. Though the couple had been kind to you, it didn’t make it any easier when they stared at you like you had a second head. 

“She saved your life and you don’t even know her name?” Tommy’s in complete disbelief.

“No. She doesn’t talk.”

Maria hums. “I have an idea. Let me find her a notepad or something to write on,” she suggests after a minute. She stands up, wrapping her cotton blue robe around herself, concealing her pajamas as she walks over to the kitchen counter. It takes her a bit of digging around, but in one of her junk drawers, she finds a pen and a small notepad. She makes her way back over to the table and sets the items down in front of you. “Can you write down your name for us?”

You don’t move a single muscle.

“It’s okay, honey. Just write down your name—”

“Best we don’t push her too much,” Joel warns her, holding out his hand to stop her from coming too close into your space.

You glance up at him, your lips parting slightly.

“Don’t worry,” he tells you. “You ain’t gotta tell us anythin’ until you’re good and ready. Alright?”

Tommy clears his throat. “Joel? Can me and you have a quick word in private please?”

Your heart skips an anxious beat.

No, wait! Please don’t leave me.

Less than eight hours ago, you’d been wary of this man, unable to fully trust him. Now, just the mere thought of him leaving your side puts you on edge.

“S’fine, we’re just gonna be out in the hallway,” he assures you. “It’ll only be for a minute or two.”

Realizing you didn’t want to be left alone with her, Maria jabs a thumb over her shoulder towards the gas powered stove. “I’m going to make myself a hot cup of chamomile tea. I can boil water for an extra mug if you’d like some?” she offers, warmly.

You’d turned down food and water already, much too afraid to accept anything from her. However, a warm drink did sound tempting and truth be told, Maria did seem like a nice woman. She’s Joel’s family—maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at the very least try and trust her too. 

Finally, you nod your head.

“Great,” Maria smiles, looking pleased. “I think it’ll do you some good. Chamomile is very soothing. It helps me relax—something that’s hard to do when you have a fussy six month old,” she kids as she whirls around and goes about preparing the tea. 

After making certain that you’ll be fine without him, Joel follows Tommy out into the hallway. 

“Joel, what were you thinkin’ bringing her here?”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

Tommy sighs. “We need to be careful about who we bring into Jackson—”

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me right now? You worried about this girl bein’ a threat?” Joel stares at him in complete shock. “You serious, Tommy?”

“For all we know, she could be a threat. She didn’t want to give up her weapons, Joel! She even took a swing at Keith!” He hisses. “And she did it in front of a fuckin’ crowd!”

“He put his fuckin’ hands on her—”

“She didn’t cooperate, Joel. You know damn good and well what happens when someone isn’t willin’ to cooperate with the rules. It leads to nothin’ but trouble and you know it as well as I do,” Tommy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Her first impression here wasn’t a good one. And to make matters a whole lot worse, we don’t know anythin’ about her. It’s a risk takin’ her into the community.”

Joel can’t even believe what he’s hearing. 

“So you’d rather I just left her out there alone?”

“Look Joel, we don’t know what she’s capable of,” Tommy reminds him, quietly. “If she’s managed to survive out there all on her own for this fuckin’ long, then who the hell knows what she’s done or what kind of blood is on her hands—you might be thinkin’ that she’s some helpless little victim, but maybe she’s not. Hell, we’ll never know because the girl can’t fuckin’ talk. Or maybe she just won’t talk. Either way, we’re runnin’ a huge risk by takin’ her in without knowin’ who the hell she is or where she came from.”

Joel glares at him. “Listen here, whether she can’t talk or just won’t talk, that doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” he says. He pauses briefly, long enough to take a peek back into the kitchen where you’re still sitting at the table. After she’d finished making the tea, Maria took the two steaming mugs and sat down in the chair beside you. She’s now trying almost desperately to get you to write down your name on the notepad. He immediately notices the way that you’d started wringing your hands together anxiously in your lap and he knows you’re debating in your mind whether or not you should reveal your identity to the stranger. He turns back to his brother with a frown. “She ain’t a helpless victim. She’s a survivor. She saved my fuckin’ life out there, Tommy. If it weren’t for her, I would be dead right now.”

“And where is she gonna stay?”

“With me and Ellie, of course.”

Tommy almost laughs. “Wait. You’re gonna be in charge of her? Someone who won’t fuckin’ talk to you? Whose name you don’t even know? Are you serious?”

Joel doesn’t even think twice about it. “Yeah.”

“Look Joel, I know you can be kind of a fuckin’ dumbass, but you can’t possibly be this goddamn dumb, big brother. Think ‘bout it—”

“I already have thought about it. She’s stayin’ with me.” Joel shrugs. “I know it ain’t gonna be easy, but maybe I can get her to trust me enough to talk to me.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. “You really think she can talk and she’s just choosin’ not to?”

“I think she wants to talk, but she can’t. She’s too scared right now. But if I can get her to really trust me—”

“That girl ain’t gonna fuckin’ trust you, Joel.”

“She trusted me enough to come to Jackson,” he says, fiercely. “That has to mean somethin’, I just know it does.”

Tommy exhales a long and heavy sigh. He already knew just how fucking stubborn his brother could be. There’s no changing Joel’s mind once it was made up. 

Maria steps out into the hallway. “No luck,” she tells them, shaking her head lightly. “I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through. If she’s too terrified to even give us her name—”

“It must’ve been somethin’ real bad,” Joel finishes for her. He places his hands on his hips. “I think I might have some idea of what happened to her.”

“What do you mean?” she asks. 

Joel lowers his voice as he briefly tells Tommy and Maria about the scars he’d seen around your wrist. “Like she’s been in handcuffs or somethin’,” he murmurs. “Think it could’ve been FEDRA?”

“Possibly.” Maria thinks it over for a moment. “There’s also a good possibility that she’s been a prisoner in a slave camp.”

Slavers.

Joel’s stomach churns at the thought of it. He’d heard about those kinds of groups, about the cruel and inhumane things they did to their prisoners. 

He fucking hoped that wasn’t it. But something in his gut told him not to be so goddamn naive. 

“Listen, we feel for the girl, Joel. We do,” Tommy admits. “And we’re willin’ to give her some time to adjust, same as we did with you and with Ellie—same as we do with all newcomers. But regardless of what she’s been through, she’s still gonna need to pull her weight around here, just like the rest of us. She’s expected to take on work duty just like everybody else. It’ll be hard findin’ the right job for her if she’s not gonna talk to anyone so the sooner you can get her to break her silence, the better it’ll be,” he advises. He points a finger at his brother. “From this point on, she’s your responsibility.”

“I can handle it, Tommy.”

“For your sake, I really hope you can.”

“Good to know you’ve got faith in me,” Joel makes the sarcastic comment under his breath, but he’s certain Tommy had heard it. “It’s gettin’ pretty late now. She’s exhausted and so am I. M’gonna take her back to my place and get her settled in for the night.”

“What ‘bout Ellie?”

“Best she just stays here with you two tonight. As soon as she’s up in the mornin’, you can bring her on over to mine if that’s alright with you and Maria?”

Tommy nods. “You got it, brother.”

“Besides, I figure it’ll give me a bit of extra time to think of how I’m gonna explain everythin’ to her.” Joel suddenly realizes that he hadn’t given much thought about how he was going to tell Ellie about you—how he was going to explain your condition to her and how you’d be sharing a roof with them from this point on. 

Tommy chuckles. “Yeah, good luck with that one.”

Rolling his eyes, Joel roughly shoves past him and back into the kitchen. 

You hadn’t drank the tea Maria had made you, but you’d wrapped your hands around the ceramic red mug to warm them up. 

“C’mon,” he beckons to you with his hand. “Let’s go. M’gonna take you home now.”

Home. 

The word rinds oddly in your ears.

You stand up from the table.

“Wait.” Maria picks up the notepad and pen, handing them over to you. “Here. Take these with you. Just in case you decide you want to use them.”

Joel pushes through the front door, switching on the lights in the foyer of his home before stepping aside to let you in. He watches as you stand there at the door looking rather apprehensive. “It’s okay, darlin’. S’just me and you here tonight.”

Carefully, you step over the threshold. When was the last time you’d even set foot in an actual house? One with running water and electricity?

You couldn’t remember.

Joel shuts the front door behind you and locks it. “Let’s go upstairs.” He gestures for you to follow him up the cherrywood staircase. “It’s pretty late, so I’ll show you the rest of the house tomorrow in the mornin’,” he promises you over his shoulder. At the top of the staircase, Joel switches on more lights that illuminate a short hallway. He points to a door at the end of it, stating, “That one there at the end, that’s mine. This one here is Ellie’s. We also have a third spare, it’s right across from her.” He nods with his head towards the door of the bedroom he’d been referring to. “Go on. Open it up and check it out for yourself.”

You want me to open the door?

Seeing your expression, Joel chuckles. “Go on. It’s alright. There’s nothin’ bad in there. I promise.”

You momentarily hesitate. Fingers trembling, you reach out and grasp the brass door knob, slowly turning it and pushing the door open. You peek inside and flip the light switch next to the door frame.

You gasp. Holy shit, is this fucking real?

The spare bedroom is fully furnished with light oakwood furniture—a dresser up against one wall, a desk nestled in the corner, and two nightstands on either side of the most comfortable, full sized bed that you’d ever seen. The décor is minimal, but whoever had occupied the space before had a clear adoration for simple, warm, earthy tones. You nearly smile at the shades of mud brown, forest green, and autumn orange. Setting your things down on the hardwood floor, you make your way over to the bed and sit down, planting your hands firmly on either side of you. You relish in the softness of the cream colored duvet comforter. 

“I’m guessin’ you like it.” Joel can’t help but grin a little. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go see if I can get you one of my shirts or somethin’ that you can sleep in. Make yourself comfortable.” He spins around on the heel of his boot, disappearing into the hallway. 

Unable to resist, you lay back onto the bed. Your body sinks into it, melting right into the mattress. It feels like a fucking cloud. 

Joel reappears in the room just seconds later. “I can see you took what I said about makin’ yourself comfortable quite literally.” His voice causes you to shoot back up into a sitting position. Joel stands there at the door holding a long sleeved, navy and white flannel shirt in one hand—in the other, he’d been holding a gray hooded sweatshirt and from his arm swings a brown canvas tote bag. “Not too sure what you would prefer to sleep in. I figured you might want somethin’ on the warmer side. Here’s a couple options to choose from. I’ve also got t-shirts if you’d rather sleep in one of those.”

Standing up from the bed, you walk over to him and he holds out the articles of clothing for you to see better. It’s his flannel you gravitate to the most. Taking it from him, you run your fingers over the fabric.

“I can throw your clothes in the washing machine for you first thing tomorrow so they’ll be clean by the time you wake up,” he adds.

You breath out shakily.

A fucking washing machine.

“Overwhelming, ain’t it?”Joel drapes the hooded sweatshirt over a nearby chair, deciding to leave it for you as well. “Trust me, I get it. I felt the same when I first got here with Ellie. It took a lot of time for the both of us to adjust to this new way of life after being out there for so long,” he confesses to you. “The important thing is to take it one step at a time, darlin’. And somethin’ is tellin’ me the next step for you is probably takin’ a nice hot shower?”

Your mouth falls open. A hot shower? Hot?

“You’ll have to share a bathroom with Ellie.” Joel leads you out of the bedroom and to another door adjacent to yours. He shows you the bathroom, telling you which knob in the shower was for hot water and which one was for cold water. “You can use Ellie’s shampoo, m’sure she won’t mind. I’d offer you some of my own, but I don’t think you’ll wanna walk around smellin’ like sandalwood and spice.” Joel hands you the canvas bag he’d had draped over his arm. “Here. Should be pretty much everythin’ you’re gonna need. There’s a bar of soap, a couple clean washcloths, a toothbrush, and a tube of toothpaste. There’s also a razor.” He pauses. “It’s a men’s razor, one of mine I’ve never used, but I reckon it does the job just the same as a woman’s razor.”

Amused, you quirk an eyebrow at him. What the hell are you trying to say? That I need to shave?

“Not that you have to use it,” he adds quickly, his cheeks burning bright red at what you thought he had been insinuating. He shifts awkwardly from boot to boot. “I tossed it in there just in case you’d want to, but you ain’t gotta use it, that’s not what I meant at all—”

Deciding you don’t want to see him squirm, you lift a hand up to stop him and shake your head.

Truth be told, you actually couldn’t fucking wait to shave your legs.

Calm down, cowboy. It’s all good.

Realizing he hadn’t offended you, Joel relaxes. “I’ll let you get to your shower. You take as long as you want, but just try and leave some hot water for me since I’m next,” he chuckles. “As soon as we both get all cleaned up, we can meet downstairs in the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before bed. Deal?”

Deal.

He’s about to leave you to it when you stop him, grabbing his arm. Wait a second, Joel.

Joel’s eyes meet yours. “Yeah?”

Thank you.

Your gratitude might have been silent, but it was there and he knew it. 

Feeling brave, Joel reaches up and places his hand over yours for a moment, his thumb brushing against the softness of your skin. “No need to thank me, sweetheart.” 

Letting his hand drop away from yours, Joel then turns and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him to give you your privacy. 

Once you have the hot water running, you kick off your boots and start to peel off your clothes, tossing them into a pile on the floor near the door. Completely naked, you turn your back towards the oval shaped mirror hanging over the bathroom sink, unwilling to take a look at the scars on your body—painful reminders of the cruel punishments you’d endured during your time in captivity. 

You grab the toiletries from the tote bag Joel had given you and set them on the side of the tub. Pulling the yellow floral curtain aside, you step into the shower and position yourself directly underneath the scalding hot water, letting it burn your skin to give you an entirely different kind of pain to think about, even if it was just for a minute until your body adjusted to the temperature of the water and it no longer hurt. 

You begin washing yourself, trying your hardest to keep from crumbling. But you couldn’t. Lump in your throat and a tightness in your chest, tears brim your eyes, ready to fall. 

You’re willing to let them. 

Two years. For almost two fucking years, you had been suppressing your emotions. You’d been in a constant survival mode, there had been no time to feel anything. And now here you were, standing in a fucking shower with all the freedom in the world to just let it all out. 

Silent sobs wrack your body, bringing you down onto your knees. 

Joel’s shower had been a quick one.

You hadn’t left him very much hot water—but he couldn’t even be mad about it.

He pulls on a pair of light gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He haphazardly dries off his hair and makes his way downstairs, knowing you would be heading down there any minute now to meet him like you’d agreed. Without much time to make a proper meal for you to eat, Joel goes about the dimly lit kitchen and prepares a couple of cold turkey sandwiches. He’d just plated them and set them on the table when the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor prompts him to look up. 

His breath catches in his throat. You stand there in the doorway wearing nothing but his flannel shirt. The hem of it falls to the middle of your thighs, and it takes everything in him not to think about the fact that you weren’t wearing anything under his shirt. His fucking shirt.

Clearing his throat lightly, he makes sure not to let his gaze wander where it’s not supposed to. “I bet you feel a lot better, don’t you?”

You sigh softly. Oh, you have no fucking idea.

Noticing you’re holding your hands behind your back, Joel shoots you a puzzled look. “What’cha got there?”

You bring your arms forward. Clutched in your hands is the notepad and pen that Maria had given you.

Although he takes it as a sign that you are willing to communicate with him, Joel knows better than to get too far ahead of himself. He’d wait until you were ready to make the first move and he’d follow your lead. “I made you a sandwich to eat,” he tells you, pulling out a chair at the table. “C’mon, come have a seat.”

After you sit down, Joel goes over to the sink and fills two glasses of water, one for you and one for himself. Setting them down on the table, he finally takes a seat across from you—that’s when he notices the redness in your eyes. You’d been crying. Even though he wants to ask you if you’re alright, Joel decides against it for the time being and the two of you eat in comfortable, tranquil silence.

“I can make you another one if you’re still hungry,” Joel offers when you polish off the last couple bites of your sandwich. 

Shaking your head, you place your hands on your belly signaling that you’re full. You’re not, though. You’d eagerly scarf another three of them down if you could, but you were a lot more exhausted than you were hungry and you couldn’t wait to crawl into that bed upstairs and get some sleep.. 

Joel studies you. “You okay, darlin’?”

You shrug. This has just been a lot to process.

“I know it’s gonna be tough for you. It’s like I told you earlier, it’s gonna take some time to adjust to your new life here in Jackson. But I need you to know you ain’t alone anymore. I’m gonna be here to look out for you. And trust me, I know you don’t really need me to.” Joel pauses and shoots you a crooked little grin. “Hell, you took a swing at Keith. You’ve got bigger fuckin’ balls than half of the men in this town. Includin’ myself.”

You let out a huff of amusement from your nose and the corners of your mouth tug into a small smile—you don’t try to force it down. 

Joel blurts the words before he can even think to stop himself. “You’ve got a real nice smile, y’know.”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you move your empty plate off to the side and grab your pen and notepad. You swiftly scribble something onto the blank page, then slide it across the table to Joel. 

He picks it up, an odd sensation fluttering inside his chest when he realizes what you had done.

You’d written down your name for him.

He says it out loud, and then looks up at you.

“That’s a real beautiful name.” Sincerity drips from his tone, going hand in hand with his compliment.

Cheeks burning, you glance down at your hands, which you’d begun wringing together on top of the table. It was out of nervousness, but this kind was different. You couldn’t quite explain it. 

“I know it’s gonna take a whole lot more than a hot shower and a sandwich to get you to trust me. But I swear that I’m gonna do whatever I can to show you that you ain’t got anythin’ to be afraid of. Not with me around. Okay?”

Okay. 

You open your mouth, trying to repeat the word back to him. 

Joel’s eyes widen slightly. You wanted to talk to him—you were actually trying to talk to him. But it was a clear struggle. Something wasn’t letting you find your voice. 

Clamping your mouth shut, you sigh and sink back into your chair. I’m sorry. I can’t.

“It’s okay,” he says, softly. “We’re gonna take this one step at a time. Together.”

[detroitbydark]

Title: Tell Me That Your Soul Lies Now

Chp 16

Relationship: Sev/OC/Scorch

Rating: NSFW Mature MDNI

Characters: Jessa, Sev, Scorch

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore

Summary: Somethings are inevitable -or- Jessa makes a sandwich

I'm utterly giddy for ya'll to read this. This is not a drill. they are going to fuck. I've had a large chunk of this completed for over three years and finally was able to chronologically catch up and shine it up. Thank @fractiouskat​ for being my sounding board and best friend and thank you to @royalhandmaidens​ for the greatest banner ever!

The lights of Coronet City glow like a thousand stars in the night sky. If Corellia weren’t such a shithole, it might be pretty- but just on the other side of the transparisteel, the stench of industry, of smelters and shipyards, became the unsightly reality.

The borrowed ship comes in slowly, Scorch navigating it easily into the docking stall. Full-dark was not particularly busy, and for that Scorch was thankful. 

Honestly, he’s thankful for a lot of things right now. To his right Jessa dozes in Sev’s arms, the other commando only looking slightly uncomfortable with the tight fit of her body against his. The exhaustion of the mission had hit her hard and fast. When he’d noticed her head nodding, Sev had offered her a seat on his lap. He glances at Scorch as the sound of magnalocks anchoring their ship in the dock echo through the hull. He gently jostles their girl awake.

Their girl.

There’s something thrilling about that. He’d never dreamed he’d have anyone outside of his pod that he’d want to spend the rest of his days tied to, but in came Jessa, and now the three of them were… something. He’s not sure she entirely understands the depth of what they felt for her, but she would. They’d make sure of it.

He gives his head a rough shake, one limp curl still clinging tenaciously to his forehead with dried sweat. He needed a good hard rattle of the old brain pan to refocus. Sev gives him a questioning look as Jessa stretches in his lap like a tooka waking from an afternoon nap. A pained expression crosses his face, and Scorch can see the tension that’s settled into his shoulders. There was a limit to how much touch his brother could handle, and it seemed like he’d reached it.

“Here, let me take her off your hands.”

“Thanks, vod.” 

Owlishly, Jessa blinks up at him as she takes his offered hand. He wants to carry her all the way to the safe house. Too much contact may make Sev jumpy, but not Scorch. She could live in his pocket til he went marching, and he’d never be able to have her near enough. He pulls her body into his with steadying hands on her hips and she rises on her toes, nuzzling sleepily against his neck. 

Sev gives him a look before his eyes scan up and down her small frame.  “I’m going to grab the duffles. We’ll get her squared away.” 

Scorch presses a gentle kiss to the crown of her head. Her dress has seen better days, and after he got her out of it, it would see nothing but the bottom of a trash compactor. She’d refused to put the dead rebel’s boots back on when they’d got back to the cockpit, and he can see her toes curl and wiggle against the cool durasteel. It had been fine in the moment- in fact he’d found it pretty fekking cute-  but unfortunately, bare feet weren’t going to fly on a walk to the safehouse... unless you had a hankering for tetanus.

The advantage of having a safehouse on Corellia was that everyone kept their heads down until you gave them a reason not to. The key was to stay below the radar, to be unmemorable. If she went out as is, there was no way that was happening.

“Mesh’la,” Scorch murmurs softly as she presses closer, his arms wrapping around her body.  He can feel the slight quake in her frame and he looks down to catch a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Hey, we decided these were a no-no, right?” He questions, swiping at the tiny drop with the tip of his gloved finger. Jessa smiles weakly before catching his lips for a kiss that she finishes with the soft press of her teeth around his lower lip.

He’s never wanted to be out of his beskar so badly. She hums softly as she pulls away.

“Good tears.”

“Still trying to make that a thing?”

“Mhmm. It absolutely is a thing,” she confirms.  She attempts to skirt past him but comes up short when his arm blocks across her chest.

“Can’t go out like that.”

First confusion, then understanding flits across her face. She looks to him for instruction, and Scorch can’t deny the swell of satisfaction he feels. She needed him. Without saying it, without asking for it, she turned to him knowing he would take care of her. Her body goes slack against him as he scoops her into his arms. Her mostly-bare legs dangle and her arms wrap around his neck. When he looks down she cranes up to kiss his cheek.

They don’t speak as he carries her through the ship. For the second time since boarding the transport he’s struck speechless, though this time the absence of words holds no discomfort. He knows there will be a later to fall back on.

Sev is near the still-furled exit ramp when they arrive. He reaches out and runs a gloved finger over the bottom of Jessa’s foot. Scorch has to tighten her grip as she squirms.

“No tickling.” Her voice is a soft, pleading whine, and it places Scorch’s brain firmly in the bedroom. Sev groans under the cover of his buy’ce.

“Boots and cloak.” The sharpshooter points to the small nearby bench. Scorch lets her feet slip to the grates. Sev surprises his vod. While Jessa sits and scoops up a boot, Sev drops to one armored knee in front of her, taking it from her hand.

She sits back, head cocked curiously as Sev cradles her ankle in one hand and uses the other to slip her foot into the leather, as reverently as if she were a princess from a fairy tale. He slowly tightens and ties her laces before allowing his fingers to trace up her leg, featherlight and dutiful.  Then he takes the other boot and repeats the process. No one speaks as he offers her a hand to help her to her feet.  Scorch grabs the cloak and unfurls it as Sev hits the controls to drop the ramp. The dull industrial hum of the planet permeates the air around them. The clean woolen material is draped over her shoulders as she steps into it. Her fingers only tremble slightly as she ties it into place. Gripping her shoulders lightly, Scorch turns her to face him and lifts the hood over her head. Her eyes, the pale blue pools they are, stand out against the deep mahogany threads of the fabric.  

As if it’s always been, Jessa falls into step between the pair as they make their way off the ship and into the night.

———-

When Sev had said they were heading to a safehouse, Jessa hadn’t known what to expect. It  was certainly not the fifth floor walk-up in a working-class apartment complex.

“Were you thinking more cabin in the woods or secret warehouse?” Scorch had asked teasingly as she’d trudged up the stairs obediently between the pair of commandos.  Though fatigue had infused his voice and his attention was focused on the environment around them, it didn’t stop him from joking. “We have those, but why not be comfortable in the lap of luxury?’

The front door is as plain and as unassuming as the building itself. 

“Of all the places, this was really the best option?” Scorch cocks his head at his brother. Sev shrugs as he keys in the door code.

“Figured no one would think to bother us here.”

Entering first, Sev unholsters his blaster, moving from room to room clearing the small apartment. While his vod worked, Scorch used a small handheld device to scan the area around them.

“Checking for bugs.” As if he was reading her mind he added, “Just because it’s called a ‘safe house’ doesn’t mean it is.”

Jessa shifts her weight from one foot to the other and back again. Her nap in Sev’s lap hadn’t been nearly enough to chase away the exhaustion still mired in her bones. And… something else was there, too. A nervous anxiety, an expectation of what she thought was to come bubbled through the worry and fear.

Removing his buyce, Scorch offers her a lopsided smile as Sev moves to her side.

Her head turns without thought and she meets him as he dips his chin for a kiss. Soft. So soft compared to the onslaught it had felt like after the auction. It wasn’t passion- it was reassurance.  We’re still here. You’re safe

When he pulls back she feels a small bag being pressed into her hands, a canvas duffle she’d seen him shoulder as they’d left the ship.

“We brought you some things we thought you might need.” The sharpshooter grumbles. “Like clothes and those fekking boots.”

“GAR motto was ‘always prepared’,” Scorch announces with a grin.

“Pretty sure that’s space scouts, di’kut.”

“Same difference. Anyway!” Standard to practice, Scorch ignores the insult. “The bathroom is down the hall. A shower will make you feel better.” He pauses, then adds on, suddenly cautious. “We’re gonna get our kit off. We’ll be here when you're done.”

She dips her chin in acknowledgement, clutching the duffle to her chest. Unlike Kyrimorut, there were no twists or turns to lose yourself in. The bathroom was only half a dozen steps from the living room, and what appeared to be the lone bedroom only a few more past that. 

The door closes behind her with a soft hiss and Jessa rests back against it. Scorch’s teasing earlier hadn’t been wrong- luxury this was not. Minimal decor and nothing of immense quality had been used as furnishing, giving it the feel of a model and not something lived in. It wasn’t homey and lived-in like their lodgings back in Kyrimorut, but it was clean, and the water ran hot  less than a minute after she turned the knob. It was all she could ask for in the moment. 

Muted voices filter in as steam fills the room. She holds her breath on an inhale hoping to decipher what’s being said, but it’s useless over the sound of water.

Moving to the small vanity, she begins removing the pins that had managed to stay in her hair, stacking them in a neat pile. Her fingers tremble as the last is set down and what remained of her updo tumbles down.  Jessa studies herself in the mirror.  The woman staring back at her is unrecognizable. The shadows of fresh bruises, still blossoming, litter her skin along with a dozen small cuts and abrasions. Her makeup is hopelessly smeared, her mascara and liner running from sweat and shed tears. 

She looks away.  Shower.  Get to the shower.  The zipper of the dress is tenacious, failing to budge as she stretches her aching arms behind her. It slips through her fingers once, twice. Her breath comes out in short puffs as her heart rate ticks up. She takes a deep breath and tries again. The third blessed time is the charm as she's able to grip and lower it down her back. With a gentle shake, the surviving sleeve comes loose from her arm, and the remains of the dress pool at her feet. Nearly bare with the exception of her blades and undergarments, Jessa looks at herself again.

The girl from Irmenu was gone. The innocence, fluff, and frill had disappeared when that cold brand had touched skin. She was different now, inexorably changed by time and things beyond her control. 

The decorative sheath on her wrist catches her eye as the shower steam begins to creep toward her.  Flecks of blood have dried to the handle, clinging to the carved strill as if it had gone hunting.

More blood clings, dried and rusty brown, to the edges of her cuticles and paints the underside of her nails- a stark reminder that it wasn’t the dagger who’d killed. It was her wielding of it.  When she closes her eyes she can feel the hot gush of blood running over the grooves of her clenched hand. At her neck, fingers ghost over the edge of the brand just behind her ear. The ruined concealer she’d so carefully applied is all but gone. Her hand covers it, presses flat against the raised outline of scars.

The fear and panic come back in a sudden rush. The arm around her neck. The air her body desperately craved but couldn’t draw in. She drops a hand, grips the ceramic edge of the sink as she tries to slow her heart. She can feel the race of it pounding against her brand. She tries to ignore the blackness that threatens at the edges of her vision.

Far away, there’s a knock at the door.  A voice calling her name. Both sounds are just mild static that doesn’t register over the sound of her own rapid breathing.

She can feel her dagger splitting through clothing and flesh. The animalistic snarl of pain, the hot gush of-

———

“Udessi. I’ve got you.” He’d only meant to check in and see if she had everything she needed, but then he’d heard a hitched sob. Almost drowned out by the sound of running water, it had set alarms to ringing in his head.

She’d been oblivious to the door opening, lost in whatever waking nightmare had gripped her, but still she hadn’t fought when his arms had twined around her. Now he was prying her white-knuckled fingers from the porcelain lip of the sink, carefully moving her other hand away from the grip it had on her own throat and reeling her away from the memory.

“Scorch?” She turns in his arms, his hold only slackening for a moment and then going firm once again after she’s buried her face against his bare chest. Hot puffs of breath caress his skin. Her body shudders in his grip. 

“Shhh… I’ve got you.” His voice is pitched low and wraps around her like a protective shroud. “What can I do?”

“I can feel it. I- the way it- the blood…” She hiccups, and Scorch’s hands run comfortingly up and down her back. He’d worried this might happen, but had hoped just maybe… he chides himself. He remembers his first. Even with a lifetime of training, knowing without a doubt that his mere existence meant he’d take lives, it had been unsettling. Back before he’d been Buir, Sarge had warned them. Scorch hadn’t lost sleep like Boss did, but he’d gone off his rations for longer than his Sargeant would have accepted had he known. Sev ate double to keep his secret.

‘The first time is-‘ his voice cuts out as he leans away, dipping slightly to try and put himself in her line of sight. “I understand.  Let me take care of you, Jess.”

His breath freezes in his lungs as she hesitates. But then she nods slowly, and he releases it in a rush that makes her hair flutter. 

She pulls back. Her blue eyes tip up and find his. He’s struck silent. Her lips part as if she’s about to speak, but nothing comes out. He wishes he could make her forget, but he knows down in his bones that she’s been changed. Taking a life etches itself on your bones. Good, bad, or indifferent, there was no going back.

All he can offer is the tender press of his lips to her forehead and a gentle smile before he turns them away from the mirror entirely, shielding her from herself. The same hands he used to bring death and destruction gently work at the sheath on her wrist, slipping it off and laying it on the counter. He doesn’t want her to get lost in her own reflection. If there were a way he could make her see herself as he did, he’d do it. Coarse fingers cradle her wrist as he presses a reverent kiss to her pulse point. His lips linger, feeling her heartbeat. He wants to be her tether. He knows he’d karked things up back in that moon, but he’s willing to do anything to earn her faith back.

He leans into her just enough to get her to take a half step back, and then he’s dropping to a knee at her feet.  The rising steam from the shower has fogged out the mirror, closing in around them and wrapping them in its promise of warmth. Even without his beskar’gam, clad only in the black tactical pants he preferred, Scorch’s bulk makes the small bathroom seem tinier still. His hand comes to rest on her knee, eyes searching hers.

“Still good?” His hand doesn’t begin its ascent until he sees her nod. Again his fingers are deft, the buckle of the sheath on her thigh offering no resistance. His fingers slip under the body-warmed leather. He swaps the sheath for another reverential kiss, this time in the middle of her thigh. The blade finds a home next to the other behind him before his fingers are coasting over the planes of her thighs and hooking into the waistband of her panties. They’re fekking lace. There’s no tearing his eyes away from the way they slip down her legs and pool on the floor. He nearly loses his composure when she steps out of them. It takes him a minute to tamp down the feeling that blooms at the sight of her bared to him, the heat low in his gut. Jessa doesn’t help beat those feelings back. Her fingers find a hold in his messy curls, her polished  nails raking delicately against his scalp. An unhinged moan escapes him.

“If you keep that up, I’m never gonna get off this floor.“  Just to torment himself, he runs his hands up her thighs, tracing over her hips and mapping her curves as he stands. “Come

 on.  Gonna get you in the shower now, Jess.”

She allows him to guide her into the hot spray of water. There’s time given at each step- from when he slips in behind her, to when he reaches around to adjust the spray out of her eyes.  Her body jerks as his chest presses against her bare back, and his heart falls out his shebs.

“Your pants…“ she turns and motions sweepingly to the tactical pants he’d worn under his beskar. The temporary fear of her reaction is quickly replaced with a grin. Warm, worn hands frame her face and bring her eyes back up to him.

“Not worried about that right now. Taking care of you, ok?”

She nods, the soft skin of her cheeks moving against his damp palms. “Ok.”

“Good girl.”  He works her back into the spray. It wasn’t the shower in their yaim, but it wasn’t half bad either- maybe a little cramped, but he doubted they’d been thinking about double occupancy when they’d obtained it.

It takes little encouragement to get her to tip her head back. Her eyes flutter shut as he uses a hand to guide it. Water sluices through her hair, down her neck, pooling at her collarbones and spilling over her breasts- Scorch swallows hard and refocuses. She didn’t need to hear that he thought she was beautiful, that she’d give that Goddess she’d once worshipped a run for her money. This was about her, but not just fanning vanity that she’d never seemed to care much for. This was a promise that he’d come back to her. For her. If his world narrowed into violence, he wouldn’t bring it back to her.  Her eyes open, brows furrowing up at him and Scorch realizes his hands have stopped moving.

“Sorry.”  His fingers begin carding slowly through her hair again.

She closes her eyes. “Where did you go?”

He busies himself with grabbing the lone bottle of shampoo that had been stocked in the shower. It’s generic like the apartment itself, but it smells clean.

“Nowhere more important than where I am right now.”  Gently, his fingers work at untangling the knots and snarls in her dark hair in the same careful way he might defuse a bomb, before working the suds to her roots. She turns and leans back, bracing against him. An arm loops over her stomach, fingers splayed to hold her close. She misses the way the water runs from russet to clear, but he doesn’t. It takes biting his tongue to stop himself from cracking a poorly timed joke. Instead he turns his focus to her hands.  He takes and massages them, soap and water, one at a time, making sure no fleck of dirt or blood is left marring her skin. He feels the tension bleed from her body. 

He does his best to avoid the numerous cuts and abrasions that litter her body, and nuzzles gentle apologies and soft kisses into the crown of wet hair when he can’t. 

They get lost in the careful care he provides, the meditative way he rinses her hair before he gently lathers soap along her body. He murmurs quiet orders in her ear and offers praise when she complies.

Eventually the steam begins to dissipate and the water begins to cool. 

Scorch excuses himself, steps out and opens a cabinet to grab towels. Tiny oceans take shape at his feet. It’s the first time he notices the uncomfortable way his soaked pants cling to his skin, the wet fabric and air rapidly turning them into a built in cooling system. He hesitates with towels in hand and then makes the decision to lose them. They fall with a wet thunk. Still in the shower, Jessa giggles. That sound is worth every credit in the galaxy right now. He loops a towel around his waist and kicks the soggy clothes to the side. The towels may have been the only luxury whomever had set up the safe house had sprung for, commando specc’d and fluffy, probably the only thing in the whole apartment that wasn’t militarily generic. 

Scorch holds open the towel as the water shuts off.  Jessa steps out and directly into it. He bundles her up, wrapping her so much like the half-frozen runaway slave they’d found in a cargo hold of their Buir’s ship months ago. A soft sigh pulls him back from his thoughts as he snags another towel and begins to wring the water from her hair.

‘Do you want me to stay and help you get dressed?’

—————-

Scorch had always been full of frenetic energy. The most brutal lessons he’d ever learned had come from his inability to just stop. For so many of those lessons Sev had been his Sargeant’s tool for correction, doling out what Walon Vau saw fit for re-education. And while he’d learned to stifle it eventually, Sev silently reflects, it still reared its head when his emotions were up. 

Scorch turns and paces the half dozen steps across the room before stalking back and starting again. 

At least he’d thrown pants on. That towel had been precarious, and Scorch had already shown enough of his shebs for one night. Eyes on his feet, he seems to be having a conversation with himself, mouth forming words but no sound giving them life. He didn’t need to read his lips to get the jist of what was going through his head. Even after she’d chosen them, kissed them, put her care in their hands, Scorch was still terrified she was about to pull an about-face. Sev gives him to the internal count of five to get his head straight. 

“You’re making me dizzy.”

The demolitions expert’s head snaps up. “How are you just sitting there?”

“Versus wearing a trench in the floor?”  Scorch comes up short, eyes narrowed.  Sev is undeterred by his brother’s reproachful look.  “Whatever you're working yourself up with in that fek-wired brain of yours, let it go. Copy?”

“No copy.” His arms cross over his bare chest, then fall to his hips just as quickly. “I-”

Sev holds his hand up and gives his head a firm shake, “She chose us. She chose me. By the way she was kissing you earlier, I guarantee she chose you.”

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t worried himself. She could still be shocky. She certainly had been earlier when she’d nearly left a smoking hole in Mereel’s head. Reassuring Scorch was reassuring himself. 

“What if she…”

“What if she what?” The voice comes from behind Scorch, and he turns like a scolded strill- Jessa can’t quite manage to hide the hint of amusement behind her questioning eyes. She leans against the frame of the open door, winces and then stands straight. A towel is wrapped around her hair and her fingers worry at the hem of Scorch’s old shirt that he’d dutifully packed for her.

“What if she didn’t like wearing my hand-me-downs?’ For all his earlier worry, Scorch does a bang-up job of hiding behind a joke. Jessa raises one manicured brow.

“Really?”

“Couldn’t torture me for the truth, Jess.”

An escaping yawn silences any retort. 

“Come here, Princess. Let’s get you straight.” It’s not a question- Sev has already risen and covered the few steps to her. She eyes his hand carefully when he holds it out for her. There’s a second, a split second, that he’s afraid she won’t take it, and the reassurance he’d given Scorch was a lie after all. She rescues him from the threat of a spiral, placing her hand in his. His fingers wrap around hers- so delicate, so much smaller than his own- and he guides her to the bed. Before she can sit, he gives her a gentle tug into his body. Her surprised eyes only grow wider when he drops a quick kiss to her forehead. Her brows furrow.

“Is there a problem?”

“With…?” She takes her hand from his and touches the area he’d kissed. “With this? Nothing. With the way you smell… well, that’s another story.”

Scorch sputters out a laugh behind him.

“You’re not much better!” Jessa doesn’t turn to the demolition expert, instead graces Sev with a beatific smile.

“Aww Mesh’la…”

“Why don’t you two go get clean.”

Sev raises a brow. “That an order, Princess?”

“What would you like it to be?”

“Hold on you two, let me get the popcorn. I wanna watch this.”

Sev and Jessa both turn. Scorch continues to grin but thankfully stops talking. Sev catches a fond roll of her eyes.

“You two. Clean. Now.”

——————————-.

They’re a lot, Sev and Scorch in one small space, but by the Goddess, they made that space feel like home. Jessa can hear them down the hall. Scorch’s snarky wise cracks and Sev’s responding grumbles. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, fighting back a smile.

She misses them already, but stars, they had stunk- Scorch to a lesser extent because of his earlier help, but Sev had reeked of violence, of blood and sweat and destruction. They’d been hesitant to shuffle off, but they’d shared a weighted look between them before turning about-facing and all but pushing each other out of the way to get through the door.

Somehow, they added levity when she most needed it and for that she’d be eternally thankful- though if they took too long, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be awake to greet them when they came back. Even now sitting on the bed with its irritatingly low thread-count comforter itching her legs, she can feel sleep’s comforting embrace trying to slip around her. She stifles a yawn with the back of her hand while she listens to the comforting movement of her commandos. Instead of the sound of pelting water, something else grabs her attention. The faint ring, wholly familiar from her time around the various Mandalorians of Kyrimorut, echoes in the small room. 

A communications device.

Across the room on the lone dresser (along with a dagger, a hold out blaster, and (most concerning) a thermal detonator) sits the comm. It vibrates as it rings, dancing merrily into the det that rocks back and forth from the contact.

She’s got it in her hand before she can even think about it, the other stilling Scorch’s gleeful little explosive before it can move any closer to the edge of the dresser.

“Six-two? Six-two?!”

Jessa’s mouth forms an ‘o’ as she looks down at the comms device in her hand. The comms device that she’d accidentally answered. The comms device she’d accidentally answered in her rush to prevent an explosion. The comm that had Walon Vau’s very irritated hiss coming through it.

She looks to the door once, weighing the merit of calling one or both men.

“So help me, Six-two, I will make you wish you-”

“Su cuy’gar, Buir.”  Walon Vau’s tirade ends mid threat. She knows she should breathe, but her breath is trapped in her lungs as the other end of the comm goes quiet.

“Jess’ika?”  While he doesn’t sound exactly pleased to hear her, he was not actively threatening her life in the way he had when he’d believed Scorch was in possession of his comm. She was willing to take it as a win. “Would you care to tell me where my errant commandos have gone off to?”

“They’re- we’re,” she corrects, “safe and secure.” 

His voice is even and cold when he speaks.  “That is not what I asked.”  Silence falls between them. It makes Jessa squirm. The thought of disappointing her Buir settles like a hot coal in the pit of her stomach. Her ears pick up his quiet sigh. “Are you all in one piece?”

“Yes, Buir. We…”

“Needed to go to ground. Yes, I should have expected that.”

Her bare foot toes at the threadbare rug under her. Her eyes remain downcast as if that would hide her from Walon Vau’s crosshairs.

“You have some explaining to do, ad’ika.”

“I know.” She pulls a deep breath in through her nose, holding it for a moment before letting it puff past her lips. She’s not ready to answer to him just yet, so she asks what has been weighing on her mind “How is he?  Fixer?  Is he- did they get there-”

Movement out of the corner of her eye splits her attention between the aggrieved Mandalorian and the commando with damp, tousled hair and low slung compression shorts peering in the door. At her glance Scorch steps fully in the room, raising a brow in her direction and inclining his head toward the comm. He mouths ‘Sarge?’. She nods her confirmation. In any other situation, his grimace would be comical.

“He’s alive. I believe that’s thanks to you, if the tale Mereel tells is to be true- and he is telling quite a few tales right now.”

Scorch ignores her pointed look and remains silent (there’s a first time for everything) as he moves in and dips his head to nuzzle against her neck. She has to choke down the soft whimper that threatens.

“I expect you’ll be prepared to debrief when you return?”

“I-uh-mhmm…” she feels a warm rush of heat from her cheeks down to her toes as he palms her ass through his borrowed shirt.

Walon makes a sound of disgust. “Give the comm to Six-Two. Unless he’s too busy… I can’t even believe… give him the comm.”

Scorch winces. Serves him right. He swallows hard before he begins. “Uh… su cuy’gar, Sarge.”

“So I take it from this change of plans that you’ve taken it upon yourself-”

“The deviation was my idea, Sarge.” Sev comes to a stop next to Scorch, towel used to dry his hair frozen in his hands. Apparently both commandos had become deathly allergic to clothing. The sweats he’d pulled on hang obscenely low on his hips. 

“I take it this means you di’kute have decided on a plan of action.”

Scorch snickers. Jessa narrows her eyes only to feel them go wide and her breath hitch as Sev runs the back of his fingers up the exposed skin of her thigh.  His eyes lock with hers. “Yes, Sir.”

‘Is she standing there?’

‘Sir?’ Both men parrot in unison 

‘Step away from the dala. She doesn’t need to hear what I am about to say to you.’ The two commandos share a look and then turn towards her. Jessa looks at the comm and raises a brow. You heard the man. She shoos them out with a wave of her hand.

There’s a rush to comply, be it for Vau or for her she’s not sure. Sev shoulders his way past Scorch who’s forced to bring up the rear.

They stop at the end of the hall, just out of ear shot. It doesn’t stop her curiosity from getting the better of her. She can’t help but take up position at the open door.  Words are lost but what she can catch of the old mercs voice is telling.

Sev’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, he wipes his hands on the front of his sweats while scorch stares at the comm. His head bobs in time with his affirmatory responses. 

It’s probably her fault, their dressing down. He was probably tearing into them and blaming them for her actions at the prison.

The color has drained from Sev’s face and Scorch seems to be waiting for a chance to speak his peace that never comes. He turns and catches her eye before she can disappear back into the room. The smile he flashes is too bright, the thumbs up he sends her way is excessive.

She steps away, back to the dresser, and her fingers toy with the det before she grabs the dagger left near it. She lets it sit tip down against the faux wood top and spins it in slow circles.

“Hey Princess, put the blade down.”

She catches the handle in her hand and gently lays it flat once again. “Did you have a good chat?”

“Something like that.” Sev offers flatly.

“I’m sorry I-”

“No,” he interrupts. “You didn’t do anything. It’s just-”

“The old barve is just… concerned.” Scorch translates as he opens a nearby duffle and buries the comm deep inside it before zipping it shut.

“Concerned? Should I comm back? Do you think it would help?”

“No!” The pair all but shout in sync. Sev clears his throat, “I think we’ve, uh, cleared everything up.”

“What he said. We just needed to- be talked at.” He holds his arms open and she walks in to him and wraps her arms around his waist “You’re ok, right? Thinking clearly?”

“Not feeling pressured?” Sev questions with enough tension in his voice that Jessa turns to him immediately.

She begins slowly, weighing her words. “Everything considered,” she holds her hand out until Sev takes it and steals her from his brother. He reels her in and she happily complies.  “It could be a lot worse.”

“That’s good. Right Scorch?” 

The demolition expert in question gives her a grin with far more teeth than usual. Her arms wrap around her marksman’s neck. Hesitantly his hands go to her waist.

“You know what would make things easier for me?” She can feel his hands flex in an unspoken question. “You could kiss me.”

Still he hesitates. Jessa takes it upon herself, rising up on her toes and brushing her lips over his, soft and teasing. She goes to pull back… but she’s flipped the switch, and Sev's mouth is suddenly very hungry against hers. She swallows down a soft grunt as her hand slips between them and cups him through his sweats. She drops a kiss at the corner of his mouth as she pulls back, chasing after her lips but not quite getting her where he wants her, instead burying his face against her neck and giving her a playful bite. She whimpers at the shock of pleasure that finds its ground in her lower belly. Her voice has a new husk when she speaks

“We’re doing this, right?” 

Both men laugh. Sev’s is just a huff but Scorch’s is full and fills the room around them, “That’s up to you Princess. Package deal-“

“-or no deal,” she finishes, turning in Sev’s arms to catch his vod’s eye. The silent commando nods. “Deal”

Scorch’s voice bears a new husk as he leans in and whispers in her ear.  “We’ll take care of you, but you say stop if it’s too much.”

Words elude her. Jessa nods silently. Scorch’s hands give her hips a gentle squeeze as he walks them the handful of steps to the bed… and then he’s gone. The heat of him is missed acutely. The simmering burn from Sev’s eyes replaces it. Something stirs in her belly. Not a complete novice, she knows the beginnings of arousal. It blossoms from her core out, heating her skin as it spreads.

“Come here, Mesh’la.” Scorch is laid out on the bed still in nothing but tight compression shorts. His legs are spread wide and inviting, fabric pulled tight across his own burgeoning arousal. Jessa’s mouth waters. What would it be like to kneel before him and place a soft kiss along the straining black fabric, tease him until he was cursing and begging for more? Her own mind clouds at the thought, and Scorch clears his throat.

He pats the spot in between them, his eyes dark with desire. It strikes her then- this is a precipice.  A point of no return.  A bonfire burning licking tongues of flame to the night sky, burning hot through her clothes and warming the skin beneath- no doubt if she proceeded, she’d be devoured by flames between the two.

She’s never wanted to burn so badly, to disappear into them as if she were part of the fire they shared.

Two sets of eyes follow her. Jessa raises one knee to the bed and then the other.  She can feel her shirt shift up higher on her thighs as her hands come down against the worn comforter. Scorch’s eyes follow the hem higher before they lock on her eyes. A delicious shiver of anticipation skitters up her skin as she crawls up toward him. Sev groans behind her, a ragged breath rushing past his lips. 

Scorch takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger and guides her body against his, capturing her mouth when she’s fully in the cradle of his thighs.   The bed dips behind her, and a strong, calloused hand brushes feather-light over the back of her thigh. A shiver runs up her spine. Scorch swallows the soft groan that escapes her as she tries to keep her brain from shorting out at the sensation of his lips on hers, of the way he swallows down every sound she makes like they belong to him. 

Why hadn’t they don’t this ages ago? Why hadn’t they fallen into bed together and never come up for air?

Another pair of lips find soft skin as Sev pushes her oversized shirt up and over her hips. His thumbs brush over the twin dimples peeking just above the hem of the lacy black panties they’d packed for her, followed by the soft warmth of breath as he places a slow kiss first on one, then the other. 

Scorch collects all the soft sighs and whimpers that stir up from within, swallowing them down like sustenance. Sevs lips trail up her spine, his hands coming to cup the swell of her ass as he moves. Instinct has her arching back against him.

Scorch’s tongue strokes along her lips, teasing and tasting as she opens for him. She’s tentative, but he’s more patient then she’d known him capable of. The tip of her tongue brushes against his, sending an electric shock to her center. It’s all the encouragement he’s been waiting for. He tastes her mouth, explores it as she explores his. Warm and soft and wet, their tongues glide along one another’s. Tentatively Jessa captures his between her teeth earning her a low growl. It’s a heady feeling being the one to elicit that sound. 

Scorch pulls back. His eyes shine black, pupils blown wide, in the low light. He studies her for a moment before his mouth is on her again, this time slipping down to her jaw and leaving a trail of soft kisses and gentle nips down her neck. Her back arches involuntarily and, behind her, Sev groans and presses the hard length of arousal against her. She wants it. She wants both of them. Now.

“I need...” she whimpers as she feels Scorch sucks a mark below her jaw. The sharp sting of it makes her body clamp around nothing. She can feel her arousal soaking into her panties.

“You’ve got us.” Scorch murmurs against the column of her throat before leaning back to admire his work. Sev’s hands continue to knead and press into her skin. One calloused finger finds the waistband of her panties and runs under it. Jessa can barely form words but she tries.

“Both in- inside me… I want…”

The broken groan from both men plays in stereo. It’s Scorch who’s able to form words first.

“That particular act is not happening tonight, Mesh’la.”

“Or anytime soon,” Sev adds while Scorch mumbles something about the holonovels Parja had let her borrow.

She feels bereft. She wants everything, and she wants it so deeply and badly that it’s overwhelming. It brings tears to her eyes. Scorch sees it in her face, pulling her back in for a soft kiss, his thumb wiping away the tear that rolls down her cheek.

“We need to make this good for you.” He presses his forehead to hers. “Trust us?” He finds an answer in her small nod. “We’ll work up to all those filthy little holo fantasies someday.” Jessa’s cheeks flame to life. She bites her lip to hide the smile that’s pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Looking forward to it,” Sev adds as he places a kiss high on her ass. His fingers, still trapped in her waistband grip and pull at the fabric til it’s sliding with maddening slowness over her skin. Her panties come to rest on her thighs. He kisses the same spot again, now bare for him.

The smile falls away and her mouth opens in a small gasp.

“Roll over.”

It takes a moment for her brain and body to connect with the growled demand. Scorch’s hands are gently turning her in his arms until her back is coming to rest against his chest.

“Lift your arms, Jess.” His breath is warm and tickles her ear. Strong hands skim along her sides as she reaches up. Scorch’s fingers gather the loose fabric of her shirt and bring it up and over her head. The air is cool in contrast to the heat the man behind her radiates. Jessa looks down at Sev, the hunter waiting patiently for his prey. The desire - so starkly evident in his eyes - chases away any chill that may have threatened.

He moves slowly, placing a hand on either ankle. He’s testing the waters, making sure she can telegraph his movements. Scorch’s mouth lays tender kisses along her neck. His hands rove over her body, finally moving to cup her breasts.

“I’ve wanted to see you in my hands forever.” He kneads her appreciatively, and Jessa’s head falls back against his shoulder. She’s seen them at work now, up close and personal with their deadly skill set. They could wreak havoc and rain destruction, but yet here were two of the most deadly men in the galaxy using that focus and determination to treat her gently, to make sure everything about this was perfect. 

Sev’s hands travel around her calves, slipping up along her skin until they reach the back of her knees. She watches with heavy-lidded eyes as he slowly moves them apart, opening her up for his view. His tongue darts out and wets his lips as Scorch’s fingers find the dusky pink tips of her nipples and pinch experimentally. He rolls them lazily between his fingers when her breath catches. If she were clear-headed, she’d be able to see that he was cataloging her reactions and fine tuning his ministrations, but Jessa’s brain has gone fuzzy around the time her shirt came off, and all she can focus on is the pleasant pulse of arousal building low in her belly.

A whine, needy and sweet, leaves her mouth. Scorch smiles into her neck before he begins sucking at a spot behind her ear that has her toes curling. It’s all distracting enough that she doesn’t notice Sev sinking into position between her thighs until he’s placing a kiss of his own along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Shocked, her knees try to snap together- but the commando's broad shoulders keep her legs from closing. 

“Easy, Princess.” Sev’s low baritone is strained as she focuses on relaxing her body. 

“Sev…” Her skin feels hot and flushed. The pleasant pulse between her thighs is evolving into a dull ache, not a painful feeling, but one that demands attention.

“Shh,” Scorch soothes her while his hands continue to experiment with what his touch could do. “Sev’ika has been looking forward to this for a long time.”

Jessa watches the quiet marksman. He turns his head and places a series of reverent kisses along her thigh. She can feel him hum in agreement to his brother's statement.

“He’s going to make you come so sweet for him.”

Jessa’s heart pounds against her chest, a steady staccato that only grows faster as she watches Sev's mouth move closer to the apex of her thighs. He continues to trail wet, warm kisses as he goes until he’s so close to her center that his nose nudges against her folds.

“Fekking seven hells,” he curses in low awe, “you’re soaked.” 

“Wish I could see.” Scorch muses, plucking gently at her nipples until she’s arching up into his hands.

“Mesh’la.” Sev confirms. His hand reaches up and takes her wrist from where she’d been death-gripping the blanket beneath them, guiding her hand down between her thighs. “Feel how wet you are?” The tips of her fingers slide along the slick arousal coating her. Sev stares intently.

“Touch yourself. Show me how you like it.” It’s not a request- it’s a demand. Jessa relaxes back into Scorch’s chest, feels the rumble of his groan.

“Tell us you’ve thought about this? About us?”

Jessa worries her lower lip between her teeth as her fingers tentatively part her folds, stroking softly from her center up to the tiny bundle of nerves she’d discovered through late night exploration. The tip of her finger circles her clit, teasing it and fanning the sensations it brought with it.

“I’ve thought about this,” she admits quietly, no longer worried about anything performative. She lets her own wants guide her. Her fingers, nails still lacquered crimson, dip into her waiting heat.

Sev growls an appreciative sound- Scorch grumbles in false distress that he’s not receiving the whole show.

Jessa moans, eyes squeezed shut, and leans her head back against Scorch. She pumps her fingers slowly, coating them in slick arousal. Scorch kisses along the taut muscles of her shoulder, her neck, a peppering of his lips against her that work to remind her that he’s there and that she’s safe and secure between the pair of them. Sev’s hands slide up and down her legs feather-light as he watches.

‘That’s it, Princess. Let me hear you.’

Taking it gently between his teeth, Scorch tugs at her earlobe. She gasps at the sudden electric current of sensation that fizzles down her spine. He works her over until her head is rolling to the side to allow him more access. 

“Don’t even need to look to know what you're doing. I can hear you fucking yourself,” he groans. 

Jessa can feel the thick press of his cock along her lower back. Her hands itch to wrap around it. She wants to do everything with them, experience everything. She’s got little patience for moving slow. She opens her mouth to tell him but Sev interrupts- he takes her wrist in hand and guides her fingers away from her body. She’s left feeling empty and irritable.

Sev pays little attention as she squirms and whines her distress while he brings it away from her body. A moments pause and then Scorch is reaching down and taking from him like he’s been offered a gift. She doesn’t fight as he draws it up to his mouth and slips the two fingers she’d used to pleasure herself past his lips. He hums contentedly, nearly a purr that rumbles deep in his chest, while his tongue sweeps between and around the digits cleaning every drop of arousal from her fingers.

He kisses the tip of each one as he allows her to draw them back. “Finally... I knew you’d taste good, but… shav…. you taste like fekking sunshine and fresh explosives.”

Sev laughs. “My turn.”

Sev doesn’t wax poetic on the taste of her, nor does he slowly continue with her seduction. Jessa gasps quietly as Sev sinks further between her thighs. His hot breath fans over her soaked folds just before his tongue sweeps across them. Through her own fog of pleasure she can feel his shoulders shudder. Scorch chuckles as he brushes Jessa’s hair back into one fist. Sev groans, the sound reverberating through her body as his tongue delves between her folds.

She’d lay awake thinking about what it would be like to have one of her boys touching her, their rough hands adoring her, and now… now she’s surrounded by them and Sevs tongue is lapping slowly at her center. It’s more than she ever imagined it could be. 

Scorch uses his grip in her hair to angle her head to the side. He nuzzles at the soft skin of her neck, murmuring appreciatively. Jessa moans softly.

“You like that, Mesh’la?” Scorch murmurs in her ear. “Sev certainly does. You can hear how ready you are.” As if to answer the question of ready for what Jessa feels the slow push of one of Sev’s fingers into her center. His are larger than her own, one of his equivalent to nearly two of hers. He slides in and out slowly, coated slick in her arousal. Jessa mewls softly.  Sev’s tongue rejoins the fray, the flat of it licking languidly over her clit. The tip flicks the small bundle of nerves at the end of each stroke.

“Do you want more?” Scorch’s voice penetrates the fog of desire. “Ask him.”

“Sev…. Sev baby, I need- Please.” She hears the desperation in her own voice. She’s wanton, arching her hips, trying to grind against his plush lips. He smiles against her cunt- she can feel his lips turn up- as he withdraws his finger. When it’s pressing back in, a second digit has joined the first. There’s a delightful stretch as her body accepts both. Jessa's teeth sink into her bottom lip as she moans. Scorch’s murmurs against her throat, taking the time to lay kisses between his praise.

“You’re doing so well taking his fingers Mesh’la.” Jessa makes a soft sound. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

It does, goddess it does, but her mouth can’t form the words. The growing whimpers and moans will have to do. Sev places a kiss to her clit before he’s taking the tiny bud into his mouth. His tongue flicks in time with his fingers moving inside her and Jessa can only grip his hair and messily scrabble for some hold on Scorch as the delicious tension in her belly spirals higher and higher. She can feel her body open to accommodate his fingers as he pumps and scissors them in a steady rhythm that is slowly driving her mad.

“I need more…” She’s finally able to find her voice. A low, feral sound rumbles between her legs a second before her commando complies. He sucks harder on her bud while the pace of his fingers quickens. The air leaves Jessa’s lungs as she holds tight to her men. Scorch’s hand covers her own as he laces their fingers together. She feels the beginning - the telltale promise - of release spooling up. The wet sound her body makes in response to Sev’s onslaught is obscene. Each pump of his fingers fills the room with the noise of her cunt being filled. Her thighs twitch, the muscles reacting outside of her control as the building and twisting reaches a breaking point. She arches up. Her hand leaves Sevs hair and finds his free hand where it’s wrapped around her thigh, holding her firmly to his mouth as she bucks against his tongue. She grips his fingers in an odd handhold.

“He loves hearing you.” Scorch grunts against the shell of her ear. She can feel his own hard length flexing against her lower back. “I love hearing you.” 

The tension peaks and snaps as she cries out. It’s like stepping off a cliff into nothing, falling into pleasure. Her mind whites out, all senses focused on the overwhelming orgasm that’s sweeping through her. Sev’s fingers slow as her core squeezes around them. His tongue slowly works her through as her senses come back online one at a time. First she hears her own ragged breath and Scorch’s soft encouragement. Next her vision comes, Sev between her thighs gently lapping at her sopping folds, cleaning her release from her skin, his hair damp with sweat. Last, her sense of touch- Sev is squeezing her fingers. Scorch has unlaced theirs and is now stroking his hand up and down her side soothingly. 

“So pretty…” He’s speaking with no small amount of wonder. He sucks in a sharp breath as she writhes against him. Sev chuckles, the dark gravel of the sound reverberating through her as he lays one last kiss to her cunt, then moves up and over her. They meet in a languid kiss. Pulling his lower lip into her mouth and holding it between her teeth, she can taste the tang of herself on his lips- the shock of it gives way to enjoyment, her tongue exploring the way his flavor and hers mix. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he pulls back. He runs a rough hand over his face. His pupils are blown wide, making his already dark eyes nearly black. Jessa feels the stir of desire, burned to coals with her own orgasm, flare back to life.

“I want more.”

“I’m up for it,” Scorch husks, nipping at her shoulder, reminding her he was still there. Like she could forget.

“Like we talked about?” Sev asks with a dark brow raised. Jessa huffs, grinding her hips back against the thickness pressing into her back. Scorch lets out a low, needy sound.

“Stang... yes please.”

“You do remember I’m right here, correct?” 

Sev huffs out a laugh as he reaches down and rolls one perfectly pebbled nipple between his fingers. Jessa arches up with a gasp. “Can’t really forget that, Princess.”

“Nope,” Scorch grits out. “There’s no forgetting that.  DId you hear yourself?  Burned into my memory.”

Jessa’s fingers brush against the bulge in Sev’s blacks. He’s infuriatingly out of reach to do much more than graze but it’s enough to make his breath stutter.

“Roll over and give Scorch some attention before he starts yappin’.” He manages to rasp out, moving just out of range for her touch. He pats her knee as he retreats. His look is knowing as he moves from between her thighs until his back is against the wall, all supple and satisfied. She can feel his eyes following her movement as she turns in Scorch’s arms. She’s barely facing him - having only just seen the half mad look in his eyes - when he pulls her in and slots his mouth along hers.

A strong arm bands around her waist while a hand works its way in the hair at the base of her skull. His desperation bleeds into the feverish way his mouth moves against her, the way it slides down to her pulse point as she gasps and throws her head back. 

“Want to be inside you.” He mumbles against her throat. “Tell me you want that too.”

Jessa nods frantically, unable to convince her lips to form the shape of words. In that moment, she’s never wanted anything more. Scorch’s hands grip her hips as she goes to move. 

“Where are you going?” His mouth slides along her collarbone.

“I’m supposed to…” she trails off.

“Scoot back just enough so I can get these pants off before my gett’se explode? Yes. That exactly.”

Sev chuckles, dark and delicious, from his spot next to them. “Your holos didn’t show you more than one position?”

They’re teasing her. 

Her cheeks, still heated from the first round, stay flushed as she swings her leg over. Sev traces the tips of his fingers along either side of her spine. He hums appreciatively at the whimper it draws from her. Sev’s teasing touch can’t pull her eyes from the sight of Scorch shucking his undershorts, seeing the deep V of muscle below his abs appear, then- she swallows hard, completely unable to stop staring as he carelessly tosses the garment away. He knows it too. His grin is hungry as she takes in the way his hard length lays against his stomach, the way it weeps onto his bronzed skin. Her mouth waters at the thought of sinking down and tasting him. She wonders what sounds he’d make, what sounds Sev would make, if she took them-

“I swear, if you do what I think you’re thinking of doing, this is not going to work.” 

Sev huffs behind her, “I won’t stop you.” 

Scorch glares past her. Jessa smothers a nervous laugh behind the back of her hand. Their banter melts her anxiety, eases any residual tension.  Sev offers her an honest to maker wink when she glances over her shoulder before he’s nudging her forward.

It doesn’t take much prompting to move back overtop the prone commando. There’s a bruise forming over his right shoulder she hadn’t noticed previously, and she leans in to kiss it softly. The hard line of his cock nestles between her thighs and they both gasp at the sensation the contact sends stealing through them. Jessa rotates her hips, slowly playing with his body, stoking the tender flames of her arousal.

“Mesh’la… you’re going to kill me.” 

“This is taking a lot for him.” Sev agrees, amusement evident in his low baritone.

She leans back, resting on his thighs, and really takes him in- the way the muscles in his neck are strained and pulled taut with the exertion of simply holding himself back, the way his pupils are blown so wide his chocolate-brown eyes are as dark as space. Her fingers trace tentatively over his stomach and she delights in the way the muscles jump at her touch.

“I want this to go on forever.”

“We can do this however you want.” Maker bless him. Even as tense as he is, he’s still looking out for her. She rises back to her knees, rocks her body along the length of him and doesn’t hold back the breathless sigh that escapes. No, forever would have to wait for another day. She wants him too badly to deny herself anymore.

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she rises a little higher. Scorch wordlessly grips the base of his cock. Slowly she begins to settle herself back onto him. The head of his cock nudges past her slick folds and lines himself up with her entrance. Slowly, breathtakingly slowly, she begins to lower her body onto him, the thick blunt head seizing her breath in her lungs .

The feeling of intrusion, of fullness, is overwhelming. She stops for a moment, and then Sev is behind her, his mouth traveling along the bare plane of her shoulder.

“Breathe, Princess.” And then “good girl” when she exhales shakily. She reaches back until her fingers circle around the back of his head, holding him close. Sev didn’t do close, he didn’t cuddle. She’s got just enough clear thought left to absorb every second of it she can.

Scorch’s thumbs massage circles into her hip bones as she rises up and begins to sink further down on his cock. Again and again she rises and falls, taking a little more with each time. There’s a soft burn between her thighs as her body adjusts to the stretch. She knows now why they’d plotted before. Her center is slick and soft, prepped by Sev’s mouth and thick fingers. She was ready for what had been about to come. 

She’d alway expected her first time to be fraught with pain, but the only discomfort she feels hovers on the side of pleasure. Settling in, her body finally comes to rest against his. They both pant lightly.  

Jessa rests, adjusting to the feeling of her commando, her Scorch, seated fully inside her. The veins in his neck stand at attention as he sends a huff of hot air from between his lips. 

‘So good, Jess. Mesh’la. Our Mesh’la.’

Sev presses against her back, his mouth mapping a course from behind her ear down to her shoulder. She presses a hand flat against Scorch’s belly for support while the other clings to the man behind her. Her nails dig lightly into Sev’s scalp and he hums his approval before nipping at her skin. 

With a centering breath she slowly begins to move, rocking her pelvis, grinding down against the commando beneath her. Behind her, Sev grinds his own clothed arousal against the curve of her ass. 

“Fierfek…” Scorch curses under his breath as his hands settle over her rocking hips. “You feel like a dream.”

This is so much better than any dream. No fantasy, nor any scene from a holonovel, even begins to compare to the feeling of her boys, one inside her and the other losing his mind wishing he were. Sweat beads between her shoulder blades, and she feels Sev’s tongue there to capture it as it falls. Scorch thrusts up underneath her and she whimpers out his name as her focus shifts.

“Imma need your eyes on me.” 

Jessa opens eyes she hadn’t realized were closed and inhales sharply. He’s intent and focused beneath her, thrusting up in time with her rocking. His eyes are dark pools that invite her to lose herself in their depths. His name comes out as a keening whine.

“There’s our girl,” he mutters, smile strained. “Fek, I love feeling you bounce on my cock.” A hand grips her hip and another comes to rest over her mons, his thumb dipping down to find her arousal-slick clit. The rough pad of his thumb circles gently, syncing with the breathless little sounds she makes

“Scorch… Cyare…”

“Fek,” he grips her hip and fucks up into her. “Say it again.”

‘Cyare, more. Harder.’ She demands and he complies, a feral glint in his eyes as they both race towards their climax together. His thumb doesn’t cease its determined circles over her clit.

Sev groans behind her, but she can’t split her focus from the man beneath her. Arousal, desire, and love swirl in her chest, filing her until she’s sure she might burst.

“Scorch I’m close… I’m…”

“That’s right, come for me.” He grits out a desperate noise through clenched teeth. “That’s right. Let me feel you.”

His body tenses, back arching like a hunter's bow pulled tight as she spirals higher and higher until she detonates into a million sparkling stars. Beneath her, Scorch’s strong hands lift her off his cock moments before he growls out his own release. There’s no time to breathe, because Sev’s rough hand is pushing between her shoulder blades, laying her over his brother who is still pulsing ropes of hot come between them, and then he’s sliding deep into her from behind. She squeals as he fucks her through the after shocks of her own orgasm, pumping a dozen times until he’s pulling out and spilling onto her lower back.

The sound of heavy breathing fills the room as they each try to catch their breath. Scorch’s hands tangle in her hair as his lips crack into a grin. Jessa follows, pressing her forehead to his as they both start to laugh. Sev flops down next to the pair and joins in with a low chuckle of his own.

"So much for being clean."

translations 

vod/vod’ika- comrade/brother/sister

Hut’unn- coward (a severe insult)

buy’ce-helmet

Haar’chak-damn it

Osik- shit

Buir- parent

Dala- female/woman

aglist: @bylightofdawn​ @leias-left-hair-bun​ @skdubbs​ @passionofthesith​ @haloangel391​ @fractiouskat @peacelandbread​ @clonewarslover55​ @cherry-cokes-world​ @nelba​ @jedi-mando @shadylightbearherring @poppunkdee @iamassbuttkingofhell

@royalhandmaidens @wolfswing @lockbox22 @generic-geek-girl @captainrexwouldnever @kesskirata @ahhrenata @apathetic-catastrophie @littledragonlady @my-own-oracle

[starlingsrps]

no one's ever had me, not like you.

sid is in the lobby when her train arrives and if dorey didn’t know any better, she’d assume he was tired. it’s well into july and this is the first time they’ve one whole free day line up together, not that she hasn’t been embarrassingly eager for this since the invasion. that it’s also the same day she’s due back in london for her parents anniversary party tomorrow can’t be helped and really, since jessa is supposed to pick her up at victoria at seven, it’s really more like a few hours than anything else. 

speaking for herself and fully planning to take it to her grave, she couldn’t bear to wait any longer to see him. 

“nice dress,” he says with a wolfish smile that makes her want to roll her eyes. it’s the same red one from their date a few weeks ago, her best one at this point. she’d debated but she could be an adult if he could be - and frankly, she doesn’t know what she expected. “looked better on the floor.”

now she does roll her eyes. “that’ll do, major.”

he sweeps her up, swinging her once to make her laugh before setting her on her feet. still, she doesn’t let go yet, not quite ready to do so. he sighs into her neck, hands skimming down her sides. she hadn’t realized until now how much she missed him or how happy she’d be to see him in one piece. it mortifies her and staggers her at the same time but still, she squeezes just a little harder. there’s a relief when he squeezes back. “it’s just really good to see you,” she murmurs. 

his lips brush against her hair. “it’s really good to see you too.”

just a moment longer before they split apart and move down the platform like it didn’t happen. “i thought we could walk around newnham for a bit and get lunch?”

“sounds good.”

they walk over to newnham, hands brushing occasionally but he never takes it, no matter how much she tries to will it into happening. newnham always makes her feel more like herself. it was the first place she felt like she fit in perfectly and passing through the gates immediately puts her at ease. she points out her old dormitory and lecture halls before they turn into the gardens.

“i’m too stupid and poor for this place,” he says.

“i wish you wouldn’t say that.”

“that i’m poor? baby, i’m sorry. i thought you knew.”

“now you tell me. i thought all americans were rich cowboys.”

he laughs. “i mean, i’ve worked for those guys. that close enough?”

“you’re not stupid.”

“i can be pretty stupid. don’t you have to know those old greek bastards and shakespeare and shit to get in here?”

she shakes her head. “yeah but-“

“and there’s letters in your kind of math, dore.” he shakes his head. “i can’t do that.”

“and my type of math is very useless.” he gives a derisive snort and she slaps at his shoulder. “yes it is. you can fly and fix anything.”

“most things.”

“i could teach you math with letters. i nearly burned down the house to last time i tried to fix our heat pump.”

“i like you being the brains,” he says, his hand slipping into hers now. “sexy.”

“should have known you were always harboring dirty tutor fantasies.”

he kisses her on the neck, the brim of his hat bumping her. “only with you.”

“then let’s get you to the library so we can get started.”

“lead the way. i might learn something yet.”

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Bashful and Beautiful (Adam Sackler x Reader)

Summary: You take some time to admire your boyfriend Adam. (Yes this is me just writing some self-soothing Sackler Appreciation) 

Warnings: Some smutty language but no acts 

Words: 1,296

This. Fucking. Sucks

You closed your laptop, finally free from the studying you had been doing, and crawled back on the sofa to lie down. Not too long after your brain started to get foggy with falling asleep you hear keys in the lock behind you; your eyelids flutter open in the darkness of your blanket fort. You hear the scrape of the door being opened and there is a few seconds of rustling and heavy steps before you hear an inquisitive voice “Hey doll?” You peek out from under the grey fluffy blanket that was currently draped dramatically over every inch of you.  Adams eyebrows were raised over concerned eyes. “It’s done” you nodded towards to the laptop on the table before burrowing back under your blanket. He dropped down to a crouch and rubbed his hand smoothly up and down what he presumes is your leg “That’s great kid” “Its shit” you grumble, muffled beneath miles of fluff. He chuckles before hooking his fingers over the edge and pulling it down to see your pouty face looking back at him “But it’s done” he reminds you.

“Come up, get up” he says jumping to his feet. “No” you tried pulling the blanket back up but he caught it just in time “Up!” “No!” you retorted, before you had time to continue your well thought out argument for why hiding under this blanket for the rest of time was the best idea you’ve ever had it was whipped from your body. Cold air rushes over your exposed areas of skin and you whine dramatically. Adam cackles before hooking one arm under your legs and the other wrestled under your head and shoulders before hauling you into his arms. You squeal clutching handfuls of his t-shirt in order to feel steady. He drops himself into one of the chairs that was pushed out from the dining table with a grunt and shuffles you into a comfortable position on his lap. “Better” he says with a grin.  

You snuggle yourself into his body as best you can, feeling the solid warmth of his chest underneath you, one hand curled up in his t-shirt and the other at the back of his neck. He was right, this was better. “What do you want to eat?” he asked after a few moments silence, you looked up at the clock on the wall and flinched at the time – not realising how long you’d been practically face first in your laptop. Turning your head slightly you softly bite his neck “You”. He chuckles and swats your back lightly “Actual food please kid” “Tacos please” you mutter into his skin, biting his neck again. He shakes you off his lap and onto your feet rubbing his neck with a smile “and you call me the gremlin”

You move yourself into your own seat as you watch him crash about the kitchen to begin dinner. Leaning your elbows on the cold wood of the table you admire the muscles of his back and his legs in those jeans he barely ever takes off whilst also barely wearing them as the always button hangs open and they sit slack on his hips. But mostly you admire this man, just him.

When you’d met him he was just this weird guy your friend from the theatre introduced you too – a guy who said nothing most of the time and yet every time he opened his mouth it was always wholly strange and amusing. The way he phrased things, like the thoughts in his head always bypassed his filter, and the way he smiled when he said something that made most people cringe with disgust except for a few (mostly just you) who laughed. He was unique and, at the time you thought, quite simple in his ways. But over time that changed – he started insisting on taking you for coffee every time you came by the theatre. At first you thought it was just as a thank you for appreciating his ridiculous, unabashed and quite frankly gross comments but eventually you realised that this big lumbering man had a bit of a thing for you. Slowly, over many cups of coffee, you learned more about the man behind the mask. The mask of seemingly uncaring and unashamed behaviour hid a complex man with stories, rivers of feelings and an unusual outlook that could keep you enraptured for hours. “You’re brilliant” you’d burst out one day after he’d finished one of his pseudo-speeches about something he’d read in the newspaper earlier that day that had riled him up from the second he read it. You watched as this overconfident man blushed and almost tried to bury himself in his seat. That was another thing you learned - Adam Sackler was as a paradox. He was someone who could simultaneously run his mouth with the unfiltered filth that occupied his mind whispering about how he wanted to tease your tight little pussy until you begged for him in the middle of a grocery store to blushing at the simplest of compliments. He could spew every fantasy going whilst he fucked you but afterwards as you lay by his side commenting about how beautiful the galaxy of freckles on his back is he would bury his face in the pillow and let out an embarrassed groan before looking at you with the sweetest, shyest face.

He was wonderful, crazy and yours. He’d made it clear that when he committed he did it with every part of his soul and he was right – when he was in he was IN. You lived in fear that one day he would grow bored of you and find someone new. His mind always moved at a million miles an hour and you wondered if someday he’d think you can no longer keep up. You’d heard the stories about his ‘mistakes’ with Hannah, Jessa and everyone that came before you because Ray couldn’t keep a damn thing to himself. But the Adam in those stories felt like a boy and the person in your life was a man. A man who had learned and grew beyond all expectations of him. A man who was yours, wholeheartedly.

He turned around mid-chop of an onion almost as if he could sense your eyes on him. “Like what you see kid?” he smirked before dropping the knife and pushing his jeans from his hips letting them drop to the floor. He kicked them off his feet like a child trying to rid themselves of a jumper, all dramatic movements and grunting, before turning back to you with a smile. “Always” you laugh. You slid out of your seat, crossing the space in a few steps before slinking your arms around his waist from the back. Placing kisses to that wonderful galaxy that spread across his expansive back. “But your ass wasn’t what I was looking at you lunatic” you leaned back and smacked his butt. He gave you that signature cackle once again as he resumed cutting onions “Well you couldn’t see my dick from where I was stood so what kid? You day-dreaming about my shoulders again?” “I’m never telling you anything ever again” you rested your forehead against his shoulder blade rolling your eyes “I was just admiring you. Just you” You placed a soft kiss matter of factly to his skin and headed for the bathroom, presuming you could get a quick shower in before dinner would be ready. You needed to wash off the groggy feeling that still weighed down your muscles. Before you closed the bathroom door behind you you took a second to look back at Adam, he caught your eye and you couldn’t help but smile - ah there is my bashful boy.

[glassbxttless]

“You don’t need to cover up the hickeys.” and “C’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working.” with McTavish

Okay so there’s no smut in this one— I just have a soft spot for Will with babies. Shamelessly inspired by @feed-the-rats. I don’t have a McTavish tag list yet, so if anyone wants on it, just click the link up in the masterlist!

William McTavish x Reader

Word Count: 1,039

Warnings: pregnancy

You’re sitting at your vanity, desperately trying to cover the hickeys you’d been sporting for the last day and a half before William’s ex-wife brought Miles over. It was the first time you’d actually meet her. Every other time it’s just little waves behind the windshield of William’s car as he speaks to her outside.

But today, you’ve actually have dinner in the oven and for Miles’ sake you and Will both are going to have to sit through it and bite your tongues. “You don’t need to cover those up.” Will says as he steps out of the bathroom, buttoning his shirt up quietly and tucking it into his pants.

“I’m not going to sit with these on full display in front of your child’s mother.” You mumble, failing to cover the bruising with a matching concealer and foundation. “She’ll hate me forever.”

“I think it’s pretty hot.” He says and shrugs a little bit, moving behind you to rub your shoulders. “My ex-wife gets to see just how much I love loving you up.” He presses a kiss against your head.

“Think she’ll figure that out when we tell Miles I’m pregnant… or maybe when we just pop her out.” You say quietly and huff quietly, still trying to cover the hickies before he shakes his head— smiling— and wanders off to the kitchen.

Dinner is quiet. It’s a little too quiet. Leigh-Anna, William’s ex-wife, is sitting across from the two of you with Miles at her side. You’ve gotten away with wearing baggy sweaters and joggers your entire pregnancy so far. Tonight was the night you’d tell Miles. And William would have to tell Leigh.

You’re fidgeting with the string of your joggers in one hand, surprisingly small for twenty-three weeks. But as you were worried about Leigh-Anna’s eyes dropping to your belly, they stayed looking over your neck. The marks Will had left very present after he finally convinced you not to cover them. “Billy? Can we talk?” She speaks up. And your blood about boils as William stands, nodding his head towards the hall.

He’s never liked that nickname. He told you that once at the beginning of your relationship and it’s been a tidbit that’s clung into your brain for dear life. And you sit with Miles quietly. He eats his chicken nuggets and you just smile. “It’s still really weird.” He says after a bit.

“What is, kiddo?” You take a bite of your pasta and smile.

“That you’re dating my dad… he’s like… old.” He shrugs as he dips a nugget into a bit of ketchup.

“He’s not that old.” You chuckle softly. “49 is still pretty young, kid.” You shrug and look at your plate for a moment. “And your dad is a really nice guy.”

“My mom says you just want money.” He shrugs again and you raise an eyebrow, frowning at that response. That couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You know that’s not true, right?” You ask him and he plays with his food for a moment before he nods. “I love your dad very much. He’s very sweet. Very kind.” You shrug. “He also loves you a whole bunch too, you know that?” And Miles nods again.

“Yeah, mom says that too.” He shrugs. “That dad really likes kids… but I don’t get to see him much.”

“Well… he talks about you all the time, if that helps.” You say to him, a firm hand pressed under your belly to help alleviate the sharp kicks to your insides. And when you see William and Leigh-Anna re-enter the room, she looks flushed and embarrassed.

“I’ll pick him up Monday from school. Make sure he’s there on time.” She says to William, kisses Miles on the head, and makes her way out the door. William rubs his neck a bit.

“She said congratulations.” He says softly as he sits down next to you to finish your dinner together.

Telling Miles about his sister went as smoothly as expected when telling an 11 year old he’s going to be a brother. He’s confused and sorta happy, but sad to give up his only child title. He enjoyed being the center of Will’s attention. And after Miles gets into bed, William is tucked away in the kitchen’s breakfast nook, working from his laptop quietly. When he sees you clamber into the kitchen, holding your lower back he smiles a bit. “You okay?”

“Yeah… just a little tired.” You say softly as you grab a bottle of water.

“C’mere. You can sit on my lap until I’m done working and then we’ll go to bed together. Okay?” He says and gives his lap a pat gently. And you take him up on the offer, planting yourself right on his lap. You feel one of his arms wrap around you and rub your belly gently. “How’s little Jessa doing?” It’s comforting to you to just sit on his thighs and feels his body heat radiating into yours. Keeps you warm.

“She’s fine, honey.” You say quietly, rubbing at your eyes. You’ve had a long day. And you watch William work for about an hour, drinking your water before your eyes start to droop too much. “Goin’ to bed.” You mumble.

“I’m coming. Right behind you.” He says quietly as he helps you stand. He shuts his laptop down and plugs it into the charger before he’s walking down the hall with you. He peeks into Miles' room to check on him as you pass and you shake your head a bit, a hand on your belly.

He really was such a great dad with him. It has you more than excited to see him with your daughter. And when you both crawl into bed, he’s got a protective arm around you, hand tucked under the side of your growing belly. He pulls the blankets over you and yawns, his glasses placed on the side table and you’re trying to sleep with his light snoring in your ear. You’re more than lucky to have Will in your life. He’s your other half. Keeps you sane. And you’re so lucky to have a family with him. And Miles might eventually stop thinking it’s weird.

[conditionaljewel]

Mom’s 60th birthday yesterday. My estranged sister (and her friend) are in town, staying with my parents and I, and I made the decision to go to dinner with them after they spent the day out on the town. (Mind, this is the first time I have gone out since the pandemic started; I’m still not cool with it, but it’s my mom’s 60th, and after the past 6 weeks I don’t want to take these moments for granted.

Last year after her daughter, my niece, was born and we had a few interactions over Facetime, my sister told my mother that she essentially didn’t want me involved or interacting with them/her because she doesn’t accept me and my life choices, and so I’ve essentially been written out of her and my niece’s lives. As you can expect, I am not fond of her even staying here, let alone being in town, but here we are.

I expected civility when I got to dinner last night. No outright conversation or anything, but civility. I didn’t even get that. When I arrived to dinner last night, she didn’t even say hello to me. Her friend did, very directly, and I greeted her back, but no sort of acknowledgement that I had sat down and joined them from my sister.

We barely exchanged words the rest of the evening even after we all walked out together, and after we were home. They’ve been gone all morning so far today, having just come back home not too long ago. My mother came into my bedroom and said hello and after a minute of small talk asked me if I was sure I didn’t want to come to the festivities tonight -- bigger party/dinner, more people, I had already declined going on that premise -- and instead of simply saying no for those reasons, my tongue reacted before my brain could stop it and I said “no, thank you; I really do not want to be around her, and last night was enough after she didn’t even say hello.”

I hadn’t even finished the sentence when my mom started crying and said she knew she didn’t. She hates that my sister is the way she is and take so much of the blame and responsibility and I cannot tell her enough that it’s not her fault that her other daughter is a conniving piece of shit. She cried and cried that she was so sorry, as if I’m not the one who’s sorry that neither my sister nor I could just be normal typical adults for our variety of reasons, but there’s nothing that can be done. My sister has been and always will be a royal cunt, and I have no respect for her at this point, so the less I have to interact with her for the rest of my life, the better.  Not even my grandmother, and a few other “family members” being there is enough to get me to go.

I’ve missed weddings, funerals, birthday parties, holidays, and other family functions because I’ve tried to make a life for myself whether it was because I was with a partner celebrating holidays or things with them, or whether it was because I’m trans and was told in no uncertain terms that I couldn’t show up how I wanted and wouldn’t be welcomed as such. I’ve been given the excuse “what will we tell the kids” hundreds of occasions, and I’ve missed each and every one of their birthdays for the last 7 years, just like they -- and my older cousins who were the snowflakes about it in the first place -- have missed mine. 

But you best believe they’re all still talking about me - with venom and honey, because that’s what my two-faced family does. I know they all still ask my parents how their son is, saying my deadname almost defiantly even after my parents have said “Jessa...” or “she...” None of them have any sort of respect for you behind your back but they will pour the sweetest honey down your mouth when they’re with you. 

As far as I am concerned, the only family I have are my parents. Once they’re gone, they’re gone. My cousins mean nothing to me, my singular aunt who does support me won’t be around much longer, and neither will my grandmother whom I’m sure is just confused but going along with it. But I’ve been known as Jessa and as a woman for the last 7 years. SEVEN YEARS. Yet I’m still deadnamed and misgendered by everyone else, as if they don’t take it or me seriously. 

So I no longer take them seriously as my family.

[tsarinastorm]

AA: Ashes to Ashes- Adam Sackler/Reader- Chapter 4

Sorry it took so long! I should be on a normal update schedule now.

The two of you walk in silence up the staircase to your apartment, it’s obvious that neither of you know what to say. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy that he and Jessa broke up, and that he came back to you in a way. You’d missed his company, his friendship, and you missed him. You’d also be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him, he made you feel like your whole world was spinning but in a good way. Once inside your apartment, Bagel practically leaped into Adam’s arms, and he even made high pitch, happy noises that you’d never seen him do before. Adam holds him and pets his head, saying, “I missed you too, buddy.”

The scene warmed your heart even though you were planning on being ice cold with Adam. You offer him a drink and he asks for his typical: a glass of milk. You make yourself a cup of coffee and bring him his glass. You settle into one side of the couch and he remains on the other side, but Bagel crowds in between you, with his head on Adam’s lap. You decide to break the ice and make small talk.

“Did you finally finish the film?” You ask and he turns to make eye contact with you. He takes a drink of milk before answering.

“I am, I’m want to go back to theater. How’s work and the writing?” You can tell his nervous because he keeps bouncing his leg.

“It’s busy. Between the contracts and my book, it’s been exhausting.” You take a drink of your coffee and end up turning your body so you’re angled towards him.

“That’s good. Did you send it to the publisher yet?” He mimics your posture and is now turned to face you. Somehow, the space between the two of you on the couch has dissipated.

“Yeah…” The two of you continued to catch up with what happened in each of your lives over the past two weeks. You chatted about everything, like always, but there was a huge elephant in the room. Strangely, he seemed to avoid the topic as much as you were. Neither of you wanted to talk about what his break up with Jessa meant for the two of you.

You’re feeling overwhelmed by the situation: you had had a long day, ran into Jessa, then Adam showed up on your doorstep saying that he and Jessa broke up. Now, you had to deal with your feelings for him, and you couldn’t ignore them. His eyes are burning through you and there’s a part of you that wants to jump on him right now. Instead, you force yourself to ask the question that you’ve been avoiding since you came home.

“What do you want?” You really just want to go to bed and sleep for the next few days. You’re suddenly jealous of Bagel, who’s contently napping laying across Adam’s lap. If you were able to shut your moral conscious, maybe you could be snuggled into his arms.

“I guess I want what we had.” Adam answers. You weren’t expecting that answer.

“So just friendship?” You stand up to stretch, and take the glasses to the kitchen as you await his answer. You’re standing in front of him, and he goes to reach to you to pull you closer then he resists.

“Yeah I can talk to you about everything.” He eventually confesses. His eyes are passionate but you can tell that he’s watching for your reaction, for permission. He gives you a crooked smile and you can see his dimple, which you find adorable. You tell him, “Look, I’m going to bed. I am exhausted.”

Adam doesn’t move, he does the opposite he settles into the couch and stretches his legs out. You ignore that and continue on your nightly routine: take your meds, showering, skin and hair care routines. When you’ve finished, you peak out of your bathroom to see that Adam’s still crashed on the couch, and he’s snoring. Of course you could wake him but you decide not to. You crawl into your bed, and you’re asleep before you know it.

******

Adam wakes up sweating and tries to nuzzle into whatever warm body is snuggled into his.  He hopes its Y/N, after all she did let him stay the night, and he and Jessa were now broken so any relationship with Y/N was no longer off-limits. Then his bubble is burst when he realizes that the warm body he’s cozied up to is Bagel, not Y/N, and he’s about one slight movement from rolling off the couch.

He gets up and goes to look for Y/N, after peaking in her bedroom he finds that she’s still sound asleep. Bagel however doesn’t seemed bothered by this develop as he nudges the door opened with his nose and continued into the room, eventually joining Y/N in bed. Adam decides to make himself useful so he starts making breakfast, but then he notices that Y/N doesn’t really have any food in her apartment other the basics. He remembers that she doesn’t really cook so that makes sense, he then heads out to pick them up something.

After grabbing some breakfast dishes including egg casserole, bacon bagels, and muffins he returns. He sets up the table and is working on the Keurig, which is not being tolerable. He lets out a stream of curses when he hears, “What did my Keurig ever do to you?”

Y/N walks into the kitchen with Bagel trailing behind. She casually walks up to him, hits a button then turns to look at the table. Adam tells her, “I was going to make you breakfast but that didn’t work then I just brought some things.”

“I can see that. It looks good. Did you sleep on the couch all night?” She asks as she stretches like a cat.  Adam can’t help but stare at her tits which are now pressed out and her nipples are showing, and he’s never wanted to caress them and kiss them more than he does right now. Then he forces his eyes away though they now check out her legs which are on full display since the stretch pulled her pajama shorts up. Y/N ignores his looks of lust and grabs a cup of coffee, grabs a plate and starts delving into the breakfast he brought. She gestures at him to join her and he does.

Not long after they’ve ate the breakfast, Y/N dives into the deep questions that Adam would prefer to not talk about. He was enjoying their domestic bliss, which allowed him to fantasize what life together would be like.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the whole truth about Hannah?” She asks staring at him over her coffee mug. Once she takes another drink, she bites her lip and it makes his brain short-circuit. He lets out an exaggerated sigh and punches at his thighs in frustration before he answers.

“Because it’s embarrassing. I should have known it wouldn’t work and I was afraid of what you’d think.” Adam eyes the anything else in the room to avoid her gaze. When he does He can tell that she’s surprised by that answer because she furrows her eyebrows and pauses before asking her next question.

“Why’d you go back to her?” Adam knows damn well the reason he went back to Hannah but it makes him sound weak, needy, and naïve. And Y/N is Jessa’s friend so he knows that admitting the truth to her could be a huge risk. But he cares about Y/N in a way that he never did about Hannah, Jessa, or anyone else he can remember, Y/N is his friend.

“I just wanted to feel something real again, then Hannah and I realized it was really over and I went home to find Jessa there.” Bagel is resting his head on Adam’s thigh and Adam strokes his head to comfort himself from whatever explosive reaction he’s sure Y/N will have.

“And you accepted it because?” She asks. She doesn’t look mad or concerned, just curious.

“How was I supposed to break up with Jessa after she accepted that I left her for someone else with zero consequences?” She nods her head in response and they sit in silence for some time.

*****

It was your day off, you had a peaceful sleep the night before and woke up to find Adam still in your apartment but with breakfast. You had talked this morning about some things you didn’t have the energy to talk about last night and currently you had finished up a run around the neighborhood. It was amusing to say the least: Adam was shirtless wearing shorter shorts and had a hair tie in his hair to hold it back.

As you cross the street, a car almost hits you. You jump back suddenly and you can feel your heartrate spike. Adam, is furious and starts banging on the hood of the car, screaming at the driver, “WATCH WHERE THE FUCK YOU”RE GOING!! YOU ABOUT HIT A WOMAN, ASSHOLE!!”

You gently tug on his arm and urge him to continue crossing the street. Once safely across, you can tell that he’s still agitated so you put your arm around his waist. When he turns to face you, you ask him, “Are alright now? That guy was just an idiot.”

“Mmhmm. But he could have hurt you, what a fucking asshole!” He’s getting flustered all over again but he shakes his head agreeing with you. Adam snakes his arm around your shoulder and you allow it because it feels so nice, just the way you always thought it would. He’s even a little sweaty but so are you, and it doesn’t seem to bother either one of you.

After walking like that for a block, you eventually convince yourself to move away. You instantly regret it, but you know that you can’t cross a line with him, because now he’s your friend’s ex. You’re not sure which is worse: when he was your friend’s boyfriend or now when he’s her ex. This was a losing situation. You decided you’d be friends with him until he lost interest and moved on to his next woman or went back to Jessa.

“Wait, I want to go in here.” You say as you notice that you’re walking passed a vintage, eclectic furniture shop. Adam groans and tries to keep moving. You ignore him and keep on walking into the store. He stands outside and shouts, “I’ll wait out here, kid.”

“Kid” was a new nickname, you thought “tiger” was your established nickname. You’d have to ask him about the new term of endearment.

******

Adam knows Y/N shares his feelings and wants him too but is too stubborn to admit it. Then, because she’s a good person and a good friend she worries about hurting Jessa. Her compassion and empathy were two of his favorite things about her, but right now they were his enemy. She made him feel truly happy, and whole in a way that he thought he never could be. This situation meant he had only really had one option: stick around Y/N until she was ready to explore their relationship. He’d just have to wait it out, he was sure that eventually she’d realize what they had and that Jessa was a shitty friend.

Currently, he was waiting for her outside her apartment building. That’d been close enough that he knew he her routine and he knew that she would be taking Bagel for his morning walk soon. She hadn’t responded to his texts, he wanted to know she was ignoring him and to make sure she was okay. Soon, he spots her walking out of the building with Bagel walking beside her. Bagel barks at him and tries to run to him. Y/N was wearing a hooded t-shirt, skort-type thing, and sneakers. All Adam could notice was her legs, and how her outfit snugly fit her hips and ass. He’s distracted for a moment and he’s shocked when she asks, “Why are you here?”

“To see you, you didn’t respond to my texts. We are friends, aren’t we?” He asks as he bends over to pet Bagel who’s more than happy to see him. Bagel’s human is not as happy to see Adam, she crosses her arms at him before she curtly asks,

“You’re honestly here because we’re friends?” Her hands are her hips now, her eyebrows are raised, and she’s clearly not buying the ‘just friends’ thing either, that works in his favor. He stands up and tilts his head down to look at her when he tells her his feelings.

“You and I both know it’s more than that. I like you, I have for a long time and I think you like me too.” Adam always talks with his hands and his whole body. He hopes to make her confess her feelings.

“Suppose that’s true, nothing could ever come from it.” She says and tries to keep walking. He was not expecting that response. He quickly follows after her.

“Why the fuck not? Are you saying that you do want something more?” Now, he is confused. He thought that she’d admit that she wants him too and they’d be together, end of story. But apparently she wanted to punish herself and him. She lets out a huffy sigh before she answers.

“It could never happen even if I do because I’m Jessa’s friend and I don’t do that to my friends. I know we already crossed a line when we kissed, and I can’t change the past, but I can stop the betrayal from being worse.” She says matter-of-factly. Her eyes bore into his but she waivers on the last words and forces her eyes away from gaze.

“Believe me, if it was reversed, Jessa wouldn’t give a shit. She’s a shit friend. She dated me even thought I was Hannah’s ex…besides Hannah’s the only friend Jessa cares about.” Adam likes Y/N’s sense of loyalty but her loyalty to Jessa is misplaced, surely she must know this.

“I don’t give a shit what Jessa would do. I’m not Jessa and if you think I’m anything like her, then you know absolutely nothing about me.” She huffs at him, points her finger at him, and stands on her tiptoes so her face is closer to his. He never meant to compare her to Jessa, he knew damn well they were nothing alike.

“I do know you. Better than you think. And you know me. I’m not just going to let you push me away.” He tells her and his hand goes to her forearm. She doesn’t move away, she looks at his hand then trails her eyes back to his face. Her eyes are soft then they swiftly harden.

“Fine. I have to finish a contract today, then meet with an illustrator. You can hang out, but if you try any funny business, I’m out.” She asserts, and he smiles at her attitude.

“I can control myself if you can.” He chuckles and strikes his most innocent look, it makes her laugh. This is a start, he thinks, it’s only a matter of time. He rushed into his other relationships, he’d learn from them, and now he was willing to go slow with Y/N.

“Let’s try to go back to what we were before.” She says as they continue walking and going about their day.

[taehyungsgrowl]

This started as y/n being introspective but I got distracted by depressed!nate 🥺 ~~

Nate walked inside, leaving Y/N on the porch. The damage was done, he could feel the tension still present in his home, could see the glint of fear in Duncan’s eyes. Whatever friendship they’d had was over, because Nate feel bad about what he’d done? No. He wanted to hurt Duncan, he only felt guilty about how far it went. He wasn’t mad at Duncan for being with her, considering he was the reason they were together now. He was angry at how unappreciative Duncan was now that he had her. What did Nate have? What did he get out of this? A broken heart, a bloody nose, and some bruised knuckles. He needed some time to himself, without either of them around. Nate realized he’d been staring at Duncan for nearly a minute as his mind wandered.

“Can you stand?” Nate sighed, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Duncan nodded, reaching out for a helping hand from Nate. Who only turned his back.

“Get to a chair, I’m pretty sure you’re fine but Y/N won’t leave until I do this.” Nate grumbled as be trudged off to grab some supplies. Leaving Duncan alone and rejected, to move himself. — As Nate searched his bedroom for the things he needed he could hear the tiny voice in the back of his head growing louder by the moment. ‘Duncan was right, you can’t handle yourself when it comes to her. If this is how things work out when nothing happens, imagine how much worse they would be if something did. You led her back to him, they’re happy together. She’s happier without you. They don’t want you, they don’t need you, they’re better off without you.’ Maybe it was right this time. If he had just called Duncan none of this would have happened. Deep down he knew she would end up in his arms if she stayed, but he’d let it happen anyway.

Nate grabbed everything he needed, he just had to make sure there wasn’t any serious damage. Then it would be over, they could leave and wouldn’t have to worry about him getting in the way of their relationship ever again. — Duncan got himself to the kitchen by the time Nate came back. “I’m sorry.. this is all my fault,” he spent the time he wasn’t wincing in pain trying to apologize. But Nate didn’t say anything back. He stayed quiet only speaking if he needed to. It was bad enough that he’d lost the woman he loves, but he’d lost his temper and his friend too. Even though Duncan was apologizing, he still flinched if Nate moved too quickly. There wasn’t any way to fix this much damage.

“I knew it was only some bruising. You’ll be fine, you can go home.” Nate walked towards the door, not so subtly telling Duncan to leave.

“Nate, come on man, talk to me. I know I fucked up again, I should have trusted her. I shouldn’t have hit you. I-“ Duncan tried again, hoping Nate could forgive him, hoping that he hadn’t ruined the closest thing to a friend he’d ever had.

Nate shook his head and opened the door.

— Y/N sat on Nate’s porch with Maximus, thinking about look on Nate’s face before he’d left her alone- “Maxie.. what kind of mess did I make this time?” The only response she got was a gentle kiss from the pup.

When she heard Duncan walk outside she moved Max off of her lap to see him. “Are you going to be alright or do we need to go to the hospital?” Y/N asked as she gently took his face in her hand, fingers ghosting over the bruise on his temple. Duncan frowned as he looked at the still hot mark on her cheek, but told her Nate said he’d be fine. Looking over Duncan’s shoulder, she opened her mouth to thank Nate but all she saw was the last of his Maximus’ tail as the door shut and the lock clicked.

--

BRO. I’m so sorry it’s taken me a long time to get back to this. ILY so much!

The Nate blurb I posted yesterday made me sad so I’m giving Nate some slutty times. 

--

Y/N took Duncan back to her house so she could continue to keep an eye on him. Duncan was quiet. He knew they had a lot to talk about between them - just because she loved him, didn’t erase the damages he’d caused. 

“Y/N,” his hands were on his tummy as she adjusted the pillows around him to make sure he felt comfortable, “Baby... I’m so sorry.” 

Her lips curved into something that almost resembled a smile, “I know,” and kissed the top of his head. 

She started to walk away, but before she could, Duncan caught her wrist and pulled her closer. He took her face in his hand, gently caressing the bruise he made, “I’m so fucking stupid-”

“Duncan,” she stopped him, “I’m okay. I’m glad you’re okay.” she removed his hand from her face. “Let me make you something to eat, okay?”

“Wait.” Duncan grabbed her hand. “Was I wrong?”

“Was I wrong to think something happened between you and Nate? You haven’t - we haven’t been intimate since we got together... you don’t even spend the night with me anymore... but you do with him. Tell me I’m not crazy, Y/N. Tell me I didn’t ruin the one friendship I had - have.. over nothing.” 

Her memory flashed back to the day Nate brought Duncan over to help them be together. That morning had started off in Nate’s arms with his kisses along her skin... only to end with Nate helping Duncan tell her how he felt. Ended with her choosing Duncan. 

--

After Y/N and Duncan left, Nate took a cold shower, trying to drown out every thought he had about Y/N and Duncan. 

You let her go, man. Let her go.

He let the water darken his hair as it trickled down his body. 

Nate shut off the water and stepped out of his shower, wrapping his towel around his torso. 

He looked in the mirror examining a small cut Duncan had left on his jaw. His eyes scanned down the mirror, seeing the reflection of his toned, wet abs, and the faint bruises Duncan left when he tried to knee him. Nate ran his fingertips along his hips, wincing slightly. He wasn't anywhere near as hurt as Duncan - physically at least. 

But inside? He was aching.

It was like losing her all over again. 

He needed to do something to get his mind off of her. Off of Duncan. Just shut his brain off and feel anything else than the hurt he felt.

Nate slipped back into old habits he had before Y/N. The same old habits that ruined them in the first place. 

He hit up a few old friends (some friendlier than just friends) and made plans to go out that evening. Get drunk and take a pretty girl home. 

Even if his heart was hung up on someone else. 

--

“Y/N, please.” Duncan closed his eyes. “I just need to know.”

Y/N took a seat besides Duncan, her hand on his thigh, rubbing comforting circles. How could she expect trust if she didn’t give him the whole truth?

“Nate and I haven’t slept together - we haven’t had sex since we’ve been together Duncan. You know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Duncan felt his shoulders relax - deep inside, he knew it, but he needed to hear it. 

“Then what are you hiding from me?”

She sighed. There wasn’t an easy way to say it - she wasn’t sure if it was even worth mentioning. They weren’t dating at the time. She’s sure Duncan was probably sleeping with other people during their time apart. Right?

She brushed his hair back gently. His pretty blue eyes were circled by a purple crescent underneath. Nate really did a number on him. 

“We hooked up, but it was all before you and I had our conversation, Duncan.” Did she have to say how soon before?

“I fucked up,” he looked up at her, his thumb running over her bruise, “I’m sorry,”

He brought her closer and rested her head on his chest, holding her with what little strength he had left in him. 

--

Nate’s room was filled with heavy panting and moaning late that evening as his teeth sank into another girl's neck. Jessica? Jessa? He doesn’t remember or care to at that moment. His mind was buzzed and he was focused on chasing his orgasm. 

She tried to push back his hair, a gesture that he loved when Y/N did it, but not now. He grunted lowly, taking the girls hands and pinning them above her head in one of his. 

Nate didn’t remember when they had eventually fallen asleep. The girl curled up, facing away from him as he faced the opposite side. The bright sun that shone in made his head pound. 

It took him a minute to place the buzzing sound that came from his bedside table was his phone. Too groggy to check the ID, he picked up. 

His voice was raspy with sleep despite it almost being noon. “Hello?”

“Nate? Are you okay? I was hoping we co-” Y/N spoke into the phone hoping he would hear her out. 

“Look Y/N, there’s really nothing I have to say anymore.”

The girl in his bed turned around at the sound of his voice. She started running her hands down his abs as he held the phone in the crook of his neck.

Nate smirked down at her, quirking an eyebrow up. 

His hand tangled in her hair, making her giggle. “Nate..” slipping her hand underneath the sheet the covered him.

Nate grunted lowly, still having Y/N on the line. 

“I-is someone with you?” Y/N asked in a hushed tone. 

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, “There’s nothing else we have to say. I’m fine.” he ended the call. 

Y/N stood there with her phone in her hand looking off. She didn’t understand the empty feeling she got hearing someone with Nate. 

“You okay, babe?” Duncan asked from the kitchen. 

She frowned but nodded her head, her mind still on Nate. Something didn’t sit well with her and she didn’t know what it was.

[sarahegerton96]

Dean Karny-Birthday Surprise

This is for my one and only @primaba11erina for being amazing even though she lost our little game I'll still give you your imagine, hope you enjoy, sorry if there’s any mistakes I did try wait it as best as I could, love you bub :*

Y/N:

You know those kinds of friends who would do anything for you? The kind that would drop everything to help you out, the ones who support you and empower you?

Those kinds of friends were the stuff of fairy tales in my fucking life. Bitter anger surged in me as I closed the messaging app on my phone again, the light too bright in this dark club. I'd invited a few girls from work to go out and party with me since it was my birthday today, and I'd wanted to do something exciting for once.

When I'd asked them, Sarah, Layla, Jessa and Nikki all had seemed very willing to join me, and I'd filled with warmth at the potential for actual friends. I didn't make them easily; I was shy, reserved, and more than a little awkward. I did better with computers and gadgets than I ever had with people.

But despite their initial excitement, one by one over the last 30 minutes they'd all texted to back out. So there I was, all alone in a loud and unfamiliar club on my 25th birthday.

I never should've even bought this stupid outfit, or bothered with makeup. It was all a waste of time. The thoughts tumbled through my mind, one after the other until it was all I could do to hold back the frustrated tears.

I stood up suddenly from the booth I'd been hiding in, ready to go home and eat my feelings. I stumbled out of the booth on the too-tall heels I'd put on, and regretted the decision to wear them even more now that the floor was rushing up to greet me in what would end up being a very painful and embarrassing collision. I closed my eyes tight and willed it to just be over already, bracing myself for the fall.

I jerked to a stop in midair, and my eyes popped open with surprise. I was hovering above the ground, the floor within reach of my fingertips. It took me a moment to realize that a pair of strong arms were holding me tightly, preventing the inevitable face plant I'd been headed for.

"Don't worry, I got you." The deep, male voice washed over me in a heat wave that I'd never experienced before in my life. The man's arms tightened around my waist before lifting me into an upright position, helping to steady me on my shoes. I watched in fascination as his arms loosened and his hands slid across my stomach to gently smooth my dress down around my hips.

The warmth cascading through my body increased, and the resulting throb in my pussy surprised me. I could feel the heat from his body behind me, and I could tell that he stood well over my average 5'6" height. His hands tightened on my hips and slowly turned me around so that we were now face to face.

I was still looking down, admiring the fit of his pantsuit on his thick legs, the material not able to hide the obvious muscles covered by the expensive material. My eyes began to travel up his body, widening with every inch they gained.

I knew nothing about fashion, but even I could tell that everything this man wore from the tips of his shiny black dress shoes, to the perfectly polished cufflinks winking in the fabric of his dark suit, to the white shirt that emphasized his build, cost him some serious money.

His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, giving me glimpse of skin that I suddenly wanted under my tongue. My eyes stopped there, frozen from all the images swirling through my mind. A chuckle rumbled through him and it was that that broke my stupor. My brain cleared slightly, and I realized with shame that I'd been staring at the man, not even thanking him for helping me.

I finally moved my gaze to his face, and my heart thudded in my chest. I had never in my life seen a more beautiful man. His jaw was strong, covered in a light beard that framed lips women pay good money for. His eyes were emerald green, framed with lashes that rivaled my own. Those eyes and lips captured me not only with their perfection, but with the satisfied pleasure they projected.

He pulled me forward, and suddenly he was sitting in the booth I'd just left with me across his lap. One of my hands splayed over his chest while my other arm snaked around his neck in order to balance myself, not wanting to make a fool of myself all over again.

His scent surrounded me as much as his arms did as he held me tight against him, my curves pressed against the tight muscles of his body. His touch was making my nerves ping in happiness, which surprised me since I usually hated being touched by strangers. My nipples were tightening, my pussy getting wetter by the second, and then he spoke again.

"Do I pass inspection?" I watched his mouth move, his words taking a minute to get through the haze of lust I was thrumming with. I blushed furiously, glad that it was dark in this club and that meant he probably couldn't see. I still tilted my head down, my long blonde curly hair obscuring my face from him.

Immediately, he spoke again. "Don't look away from me baby, I want to see those big blue eyes eating me up like they were before."

The command in his voice had me lifting my head back up before I even knew what was happening. My bottom lip made its way between my teeth, and his gaze narrowed on the movement, his chest rumbling with a sound I couldn't hear, but could feel vibrate through my body.

"Th-thank you. For helping me earlier, I mean." My voice was quiet, but he somehow heard me over the music blaring through the speakers. I was impressed with myself for being able to get the words out in the first place. I was so focused on the way his arms wrapped around my waist and kept me pressed against him that any real thoughts had basically been obliterated.

He moved one hand to brush some hair away from my face, then cupped my cheek gently. I nuzzled into the hand, enjoying the feel of his roughened palm against my soft skin.

"Fuck." I read the word on his lips, and a little pang went through me that I hadn't been able to hear it. An incredibly strong need for the feel of his lips filled me, and I leaned forward. In a move that was nothing like the usual, shy Y/N I was, I plastered my tits against his chest before I placed a light kiss on his mouth.

His arm around my back tightened, and the hand on my cheek slid back onto the nape of my neck, tangling in my thick hair. The move had me gasping, my breath blowing across his lips still touching mine.

What the hell was going on with me? I was not the kind of woman to cuddle up with a stranger. In a club. And then kiss him. I jerked back, struggling to move off him and escape.

"Please, don't go." His words made me freeze, although I couldn't bring myself to look at his face. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes from all the helplessness, loneliness, embarrassment, and anger from today taking over.

"We can go somewhere else, quieter if you want. Or we can stay here where you're surrounded by people. Just don't run away from me."

His words were soft, like he was talking to a cornered, frightened animal. I suppose that was very much what I seemed like right now, since that's how I felt. But the fact that he'd started off with please, and how he was willing to stay here where I was safely surrounded by witnesses, calmed me.

I turned back to take a peek at him, and his eyes were soft, yet burned with something I couldn't name. Just to test his reaction, I move slowly off of his lap. His hands tensed on me for a second, before he let out a reluctant sigh and let me go. I stood in front of him, and a wide smiled filled my face. I liked that he didn't seem to want to let me leave, but would if that's what I really wanted.

I held out a hand and he immediately took it, standing and wrapping his arms around me again. He moved his hands down over my ass and gripped me right below it, where the skin met my thighs. He lifted me up and I instinctively wrapped my arms and legs around him, burying my face into his neck. I felt a shiver go through him when I kissed the side of his neck.

With the smile still across my face, I moved my lips to his ear to whisper to him. "Let's get out of here."

Dean:

The moment she'd walked into my club, I had seen nothing else. I'd been sitting in my office on the upper level and just by chance had gotten up to look down onto the floor of the club I'd opened just over a year ago. It was doing even better than I'd anticipated, but over the last few weeks I'd felt nothing but boredom.

Watching the people dancing and drinking below me, a flash of gold near the front doors had caught my eye. My hands clenched into fists, my body going stiff as a board as my eyes swallowed up the female. Long, curly blonde hair tumbled around her as she made her way slowly across the floor. She stepped carefully in the tall gold heels that encased her feet, a perfect match for the dress that hugged every delicious curve of her body.

Something about the way she moved called to me, and I was heading to the floor before I could even think through what I was planning on doing when I got to her. All I knew was that my heart pounded in my chest, each thump accompanying a resounding mine in my head.

I got to the floor and searched the crowd, wishing I had waited to see where she'd been headed. It was so crowded, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to find her in the mass. I prowled along the edge of the dance floor, a weird feeling like desperation coming over me as my eyes roved back and forth.

I hadn't felt like this since I was a teen, struggling to find a way to survive. I'd come a long way since then; I owned a chain of clubs that were wildly successful, and had put money towards investments that had paid off handsomely. I hadn't been desperate for anything since landing my first job in high school and I didn't like feeling it now.

I was starting to think I'd gone crazy, seeing someone as perfect as the curvy woman in gold since I couldn't find her now. Just as the disappointment began to set in, that flash of gold caught my eyes once more. I zeroed in on that, pushing not-so-gently through the crowd to reach her.

When I finally broke through, I saw her sitting in a booth in the corner, her phone in her hands and screen lighting up her face. I drew in a sharp breath at the sight of her. I couldn't see as well as I wanted to, but I could see the way the thin straps of her dress pressed into her shoulders, the top of the dress barely able to contain her breasts. I could see the golden tone of her skin. Her plump, pink lips were shaped in a grimace on her face, and my hands twitched to reach out and smooth them for her.

She looked up from her phone and glanced towards the floor, and odd expression of yearning on her face. Her phone lit up in her hand again, and her forehead wrinkled further as she read.

Every iota of my being wanted to go over there and find out what was making her so upset, but I knew that I could be intimidating. I figure that a 6'5" tall man packed with muscle demanding to know what was wrong would more likely scare her than endear her to me.

So instead of going over there and hauling her into my arms, I took a seat at a nearby booth, hidden in the shadows so I could watch her without creeping her out. Over the next half hour I sat there and watched her face go through so many emotions even I was dizzy.

Anger. Frustration. Longing. My body tensed more with each new expression, the need to make her smile a living thing inside me. When I saw her features crumble like she was on the verge of tears, I knew I was done with waiting. I stood up to go over there and I worked on schooling my expression into one of friendliness. When I'd just about reached her booth, she tucked her phone into the small purse dangling off her wrist and stood up. She stepped down from the small rise, and I saw her ankle twist uncomfortably.

I knew she was going to go down, and I crossed the last few steps in a split second to catch her. I managed to get to her just in time, wrapping my arms around her waist and holding her against me.

My cock instantly went hard, the feeling of her ass against my crotch bringing desire roaring to the surface. I grit my teeth in effort to control the impulse to grind against her, and somehow managed. After a moment I was able to pull her up, steadying her on her wickedly spiked heels and turning her around but not letting go of her.

Her perusal of me excited and amused me, and her scent of roses and honey drifted into my nostrils, making me harder than steel. Then sitting her on my lap, watching her fascination with me play over her face, when she turned her face into my hand like she wanted it more than her next breath... I knew that there wasn't anything that was going to keep me from claiming her. Even when I let her pull away, I knew that she wouldn't be getting very far. She didn't know it yet, but she was fucking going to be mine.

I glared at anyone who dared look at us as I carried her across the dance floor, the feeling of her nuzzling my neck making my knees shake. I had to get her alone, before I started fucking her against the nearest wall. I turned the corner that led to the elevator only I had access to and pressed the button for the doors to open.

Just as I stepped into the elevator, her teeth nipped at the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. I let out a sound of pleasure, the small bite nearly undoing me. No women had ever had the same power over me. The doors shut and I pressed her against the wall, a hand going into her hair and pulling her head back so I could get my first good look at her.

Her eyes were blue orbs calling to me, to the man in me who wanted nothing less than to completely possess her. I took in the flush in her cheeks, the way her dress reflected the gold in her skin, making her seem like a stolen ray of sunshine. The warmth radiating off her body and into mine through our clothes only further convinced me she'd escaped from that burning star.

"Who are you?" The question left my mouth in wonder, and her cheeks darkened before she looked away from me.

"No one special," she said with sadness in her voice.

I tugged on her hair sharply, a small gasp leaving her as I forced her to look at me. "Don't ever fucking say that again. I'll spank your ass until it's on fire if you ever say shit about yourself like that."

Her pupils widened at my words, and my instincts told me she liked the idea of my hand on her ass, even though it scared her a little. A small tremble went through her, and I pressed my lips against her cheek.

"Now, try again. Tell me who you are." I pulled away from whispering the words in her ear to watch her face. She swallowed roughly, but answered me.

"My name is Y/N." Her voice was raspy, like she rarely used it, with a hint of an accent. It was music to my ears.

"Y/N," I repeated, loving the feeling of her name in my mouth. The way she licked her lips made me think she liked it too. "My name is Dean."

"Dean," she breathed huskily. "It fits."

I grinned at her and nodded. "So I've been told."

I took a second to insert my key into the lock and finally pressed the button on the elevator to move us up. The ride was short and silent, but I didn't even think about putting her down. I liked having her in my arms, and she didn't protest so I was taking advantage of it.

The elevator stopped and I stepped off, heading towards my office. You could still hear the music and the crowd from up here, but it was muted significantly. Noticing the giant window where I'd been standing when she'd walked into the club, she let out a small gasp.

"That's quite the view," she said.

"I like being able to see what's going on." I walked towards it and set her down gently, her body rubbing against mine the whole way down and torturing me. I turned her towards the window and crowded behind her.

I knew there was no way she couldn't feel my dick pressed against her, but she didn't shy away or tell me to back off, so I pressed just a little closer. I heard a small moan leave her mouth and a satisfied smile filled my face.

"I was standing right here when you walked through those doors." I caressed her sides as I spoke, relishing in the way she leaned back into me, letting me do as I wished. "I haven't seen anything but you since that moment you caught my eye."

She drew in a breath and turned back slightly to look up at me. "That's crazy."

"Maybe. Or maybe I just know what I want when I see it."

Questions filled her eyes, and I knew that she was wondering why I'd focused on her. "I can't tell you all the answers baby, I just know that I feels right to hold you in my arms. There's something about you that hooked me from the very beginning. I can't just ignore that kind of feeling."

Her eyes searched mine, and she must have seen the truth burning there. She reached one hand around and placed it on the back of my neck, drawing me down towards her. As soon as our lips touched, the fire ignited.

In a second we were devouring each other, lips and tongues and teeth battling for a better taste of each other. My hands gripped her tight, the need to consume her overtaking everything.

She twisted slightly in my arms to get a better angle, and I crushed her to my chest. My hands roamed and gripped her ass tightly, grinding her slightly against my cock. She let out a small moan with every pass, and even rocked her hips into mine when I paused.

Pulling away from her mouth, our harsh breaths filled the air. "If you want to stop, you have to tell me now," I said. "I want to see you, taste you everywhere, tease and torture you until you're screaming my name. If that's not something you want, then say the word and I'll let you go."

It hurt to say the words, but I would stop if that's what she wanted. I'd let her go for now, but not forever. I'd give her time and space, but I would be coming after her.

Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about that.

"Please Dean, don't stop." She was shaking slightly, but her words were sure.

"Thank fuck," I said and captured her resulting giggle between our lips.

Kissing Y/N was like a revelation; like a taste of heaven for a fallen angel. A piece of my soul kicked into place the moment I'd touched her, and now it felt like it was going to explode from me.

Groaning, I pulled away again. A mewl of protest left her lips and I softly placed a finger on her lips.

"Hush, beautiful. I'm not going anywhere." I bent down and lifted her again, striding towards the plush couch against the opposite wall. I turned as I reached it, falling back so that I was sitting with her straddling my lap.

Her eyes roamed over my body, and I sat still to let her take it all in. "What's going on in the beautiful head of yours?"

She smiled lightly at my question, biting her lip. "You're so big," she whispered as she ran her hands down my torso.

"You haven't seen anything yet, babe." She flushed at my response, and I curled my hands around her thighs, pulling her closer. The beast inside me howled in pleasure at the way she felt under my hands, at the contrast between her lightly tanned skinned and mine. I could feel the heat between her thighs branding my lap as she instinctively rotated her hips on mine.

Her eyes went heavy, head tilting back when she rubbed against me. My hands on her thighs tightened, and little noises escaped her as she continued to grind on me.

"That's it little girl, take what you need from me. Grind that pussy on my cock like I'm inside you already."

"Oh god, Dean," she said breathlessly as she started to move a little faster.

"If I lifted you from my lap and looked at my pants, would I be able to see just how wet you are for me?" Her cheeks flamed with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, but it didn't stop her from moving.

"Show me baby girl," I continued. "Let me see how bad you need me."

Y/N:

I could still feel the heat flaming my cheeks, but I wanted nothing more than to show him what he was asking for. I had no idea what alien had taken over my body and mind, and yet I wasn't going to argue with it. I mean, I wanted to get a little crazy for my birthday, and if this wasn't crazy then I had no idea what was.

With a determination that bolstered my nerves, I looked Dean right in the eyes as I leaned back, placing one hand on his thigh behind me. My other hand moved to the hem of my dress, lifting the skirt enough for him to see the white lace panties I had on underneath. I watched his pupils dilate as he took the sight in. He groaned aloud, the sound only making me wetter than before.

I watched as he reached forward and traced the wetness of my panties with one finger, my breaths coming more rapidly at the light touch. I wanted him to rip the panties off so he could touch me for real. I wanted him to claim me, brand me with his touch so that I'd never forget this night.

Not that it'd be easy to forget anyway. After all, I didn't have much experience with boys so it's not like I had anything to overshadow this experience. And by "much experience", I meant none. I hadn't even kissed a boy before tonight. Not for lack of curiosity, but I'd just never met anyone I was interested in enough to go there with. I hoped Dean wasn't able to tell how inexperienced I was; he wasn't complaining though so I was just going to keep going like I knew what I was doing.

"Goddamn Y/N, I can't wait anymore. I need to taste you." Suddenly, I was spinning around, falling against couch cushions and my legs spread wide over his shoulders. I hastily brushed my hair out of my face in time to see him drag my underwear off, a hunger in his eyes that made my insides clench with excitement.

I felt his fingers spread my pussy apart so he could see everything, and another wave of embarrassment flooded me.

"So fucking gorgeous," he breathed out reverently. The tone of his voice instantly calmed me, and in a move that surprised even myself, I reached down with one hand and traced my middle finger over my hard clit.

"Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to get a taste?" My voice was sultry, one I'd never heard before. I could hardly believe it was even coming from me.

A wicked laugh burst out from him and caressed my wet pussy. I jerked slightly at the feeling, and he knocked my hand away so he could have full access. Before I could blink, his mouth was on me. My back arched high, a loud cry leaving me at how good it felt.

"Oh my god!" The words were a loud, choked cry. His tongue lapped at my lips, licking up every drop of my wetness and leaving a trail of his own in its wake.

Goosebumps popped up everywhere on my skin, my nipples going diamond hard as his tongue moved up to the hard bud of my clit, flicking it rapidly and driving me to the edge so fast I was shocked.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come," I moaned out. He pulled away slightly, meeting my hazy eyes for a moment before looking down at my pussy. I felt a finger trace around my pussy hole, the sounds of my wetness hot and thrilling at the same time.

"Feel free to come whenever my little slut," he said lazily. My nails scraped along the fabric of his couch and he bent back down, taking my clit between his lips and sucking on it at the same time as he pushed a finger inside. The combination of the pressure on my clit and the feeling of his finger in me, pressing on a sensitive spot on my inner wall had me climaxing without warning.

I screamed loudly, shaking in full-body spasms as the strongest orgasm of my life consumed me. I never even imagined I could feel like this- I'd read about orgasms like these in books but I figured they were all exaggerated. Holy fuck, had I been wrong.

Dean gently pulled his finger out of me, straightened up and then slowly moved my legs from his shoulders to the couch. I was breathing hard, staring up at him and by the wide grin on his face I could tell I had stars in my eyes.

"You liked that, did you?" His voice was teasing but rough, like he loved making me feel good but barely had a grip on himself.

"I loved it," I said, voice trembling. I sat up, then palmed his erection through his pants. A garbled sound left him as he threw his head back, and he quickly grasped my wrist to stop me from stroking him. I gave him a questioning look, and he shot me a smile.

"It feels too good. I don't plan on coming in my pants."

A thrill of wickedness ran through me. I pulled my hand out of his grip gently before running my hands up his chest.

"Where do you plan on coming, then? My hands? My tits?" I moved my hands to the straps of my dress, pulling them down and baring myself to him. "My mouth?" I moved to the edge of the couch, loving the way his eyes jumped around, trying to decide where to look first. I slid my arms around his neck and pressed my bare chest against his crisp white shirt, thrilling at the feeling. I leaned forward to whisper into his ear. "In my hot, tight, soaking wet pussy?"

A growl ripped out of his chest. Next thing I knew, I was standing on my feet, my dress and panties being ripped off my body in one harsh move. I was standing in front of Dean completely naked while he was still on his knees, still fully dressed. I felt vulnerable, but for some reason I knew I was completely safe with him.

"You want to tease me, little slut?" His hands grasped my hips and slid up my body, until he was cupping my heavy breasts in his large hands. His thumbs brushed my hard nipples, coaxing a moan from me as I stared at him with half-shut eyes. "Just be careful what you ask for."

"I know what I'm asking for," I quipped. "Are you going to give it to me or not?"

A sharp laugh burst out of him, and then he was standing, stripping off his clothes as well. I watched avidly as his smooth, muscled, tanned skin came into my view. I wanted to trace the ridges of his abs with my tongue, follow that little happy trail of hair that begged me to go down.

He unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and then paused. I looked up to his face to see a glint of concern. Stepping forward and covering his hands with my own, I answered the unspoken question.

"Yes, I'm sure." I curled my fingers into the waistband of his slacks, and pulled down. I tilted my head down to get a good look, and I knew my eyes were as big as saucers when I murmured the first thing that came to mind. "Commando, why am I not surprised?"

He didn't answer, letting me look my fill. He was even bigger than he'd felt in my hand for the moment I'd gotten in, and I was a little worried it wouldn't fit. I was a virgin, and I'd never expected cocks to even get this big. He took his cock in his hand and stroked it up and down, and heat pulsed in me at the sight. A little bead of cum leaked out of the tip, and my tongue grazed my lips in desire to taste it.

"Fuck Y/N, you're going to make me come if you keep looking at me like that," Dean grit out.

"That's fine with me," I said in fascination.

"You look at me like you've never seen a cock before," he said as he moved his hand on his cock again like he couldn't help it.

I was hesitant to admit the truth, so I told a little white lie. "Never one this big."

"Jesus," he hissed out. Goosebumps trailed across my skin again at the sound of his voice, knowing he was close to losing control. Wanting to not just push him to the edge, but over it, an idea popped into my head as I glanced at the large window again. I started backing away from him, towards the window as I spoke.

"Can you imagine what it would feel like to fuck me with that big hard cock of yours while I'm pressed up against this window? How hard my nipples would be, tight against that cold glass? How anyone might be able to look up and see you pulling my hair back, my mouth wide open as I screamed your name while you spanked me?"

I knew my cheeks were red as cherries, but I hoped that if he could tell, he thought it was with passion and not from never having spoken out loud like this before. My back hit the glass, and I shivered at the cold.

I watched as he stalked towards me, his skin gleaming like midnight, a fierce look on his face. In that moment I truly felt like I was being stalked by a lion, his gait sure and steady as he came for me. My pussy throbbed in anticipation, and I lazily flicked my nipples just to see the way his jaw tightened. When he reached me, he grasped my shoulders and turned me, pressing my body tight against the glass, a hand in my hair forcing me to look down at the crowds below us. His cock pressed into my ass and I moaned at the feeling, moving my hips back against him.

"Does it make you wet to think that someone will see me fucking you? Does my little slut get off on the idea of being watched?"

"Yes," I gasped out, in tandem with the sting of his teeth nipping at my neck.

"Good. I want you to be wondering who's looking at you, taking in your tits pushed up against this glass, watching you come with my cock deep in your pussy."

The hand not in my hair trailed from my collarbone, going between my tits and moving down my stomach and brushing across the tiny strip of hair on my mound. His finger traced the line, and my hips jerked in response to the sensation.

"I thought I was going to explode when I saw this little path right to where I wanted to be," he commented like we had all the time in the world. I whimpered as his fingers moved lower, playing over my clit, slippery from my earlier orgasm.

He cupped my pussy, then pressed back so that my hips were tilted back, presenting my ass to him. The hand in my hair loosened and traveled down my spine, then palmed both cheeks, one after the other. A split second later, a sharp sound echoed in the room, and I registered the sting a moment later.

"Did you... just spank me?" I turned my head back to him, eyes big but and excited smile on my lips. He studied my face for a beat and then caressed the tender spot on my ass.

"Did you... like it?" He teased me, pausing just like I had, and I bit back the giggle that rose in my throat. I loved that he made me want to laugh just as much as he made me want to plunge myself down on his cock.

"I'm not sure, maybe you should try again."

He shook his head lightly, in amusement, before delivering his next command. "Turn back around, dirty girl, and let's find out."

I turned back to the glass, and as soon as my gaze hit the people below, his hand landed on my other cheek. The pain zinged through me, but was closely followed by sparkles of pleasure, a whole different kind than anything before. A strangled moan left me as I tapped my forehead on the glass, and I felt his dark hum of delight in my bones.

His hand that cupped my pussy moved lower, his two middle fingers pushing between my folds to feel just how wet he'd made me.

"My pretty little Y/N is a very dirty girl, I see." His two fingers teased at my dripping hole, and it was all I could do not to beg him to fuck me with them. I canted my hips back, rubbing against his cock and thrilling at the sound he made when I did. He knew what I was asking for, and he didn't wait long to appease me.

My heart stuttered at the sensation of him pressing those thick digits inside me, the first thing since one uncomfortable attempt with a vibrator. The same burning sting was there, but this time it was overshadowed by the absolutely incredible feeling of having Dean inside me, massaging and tweaking my nipples with the other hand. Every time he moved he hit a spot inside that made me jerk, eyes crossing from the pleasure.

I was completely overwhelmed. Every damn thing from the lingering pain of the spanking, to his cock subtly grinding between my ass cheeks, to his arm around me and fingers in me, his chest pressed tight along my back... I was being bombarded inside and out and I. Fucking. Loved it.

"Please, oh god, Dean," I panted as my thighs began to shake again. I couldn't form the words to beg him to give me what I needed, but he seemed to know what it was anyway.

"That it Y/N, I want you to come for me again. I want to feel this pussy tighten and come all over my hand. You won't get my cock until you give me this first. So come for me little slut, now."

A loud, keening cry flew out of me as I came apart around his fingers. I barely even registered his fingers sliding out, and his cock replacing them.

"Y/N, fuck," I vaguely heard him mutter in my ear as he thrust into my body. Tears gathered in my eyes, a mixture of the intensity and elation that this was actually happening. Although it was slightly painful, I'd expected it to hurt more.

He stilled inside me, and I concentrated on coming back from the high he'd sent me to. The first thing that registered was his lips on my neck, his arms banding me to him around my hips and torso.

He knew when I'd come back, and I felt his small exhalation of relief flutter in my hair.

"Did I hurt you?" His gentle question surprised me, shocked that he'd noticed much less cared. I figured not many guys would have.

"I'm okay," I responded in a raspy voice. "Please Dean, don't stop."

"God, you're fucking perfect. Where the hell did you come from?"

I let out a shaky giggle, my words breathless as he pulled out slowly. "Aren't you glad I came out for my birthday?"

"Fuck baby, it's your birthday?"

"Yeah. Best one ever," I responded. I punctuated the sentence with a loud groan as he pushed his cock right back into me.

"I think birthday girl needs another orgasm. What do you say?"

"Jesus," I groaned. "I'm not sure I can take another one."

He paused inside me, then grabbed my wrists and pulled them above my head, palms against the glass. He placed one hand lightly around my neck to hold me in place as he began fucking me in a steady pace. His other hand moved down and started to rub my clit in small circles. To my utter astonishment, I immediately felt another orgasm start to build.

"If I want you to come for me again, that's exactly what you're going to do. Got it, dirty girl?"

"Fuuuuck," was all I could say in response.

Dean:

Y/N was full of surprises. This woman was fucking hot, but she was also an intriguing mixture of shy and bold, with a little sass and humor threaded through her. I wanted nothing more than to be fucking her right now, but in my heart I knew I wasn't going to let this woman go.

Every thrust into her pussy solidified that. Every sound she made, every moan and cry and shout of my name, told me that somewhere inside her she knew it to. Now I just had to get her to admit it to herself.

Speeding up my thrusts, I clenched my teeth hard enough that I wondered if I'd crack one, trying not to come yet. I promised her one more orgasm, and damn it all if I wasn't going to make sure she got it.

After all, she'd given me her virginity. My cock swelled bigger inside her, blood rushing from my brain as that primal thought took over. As soon as I'd thrust into her, I'd known. Something about the way her voice changed, the way her body tensed up, some sixth sense I had for every small iota of her reactions had told me.

I wished she'd told me first so I could've been gentler, but I knew that if that was something she'd wanted she would have told me. I was going to bring it up after this was over, because that's not something I could let go... But for now at least, I was going to settle for proving to her that she hadn't made a mistake with that decision.

"Do you think anyone can see you right now?" I tightened my hand around her throat just enough for her to feel it there, and felt an answering squeeze of her pussy around my dick. I'd figured out that she loved the dirty talk, so I kept at it to make sure she got to that peak one last time.

"I bet if anyone's watching, they wish they were here. Somewhere out there a guy wants to take his cock out and stroke it to the sight of you getting fucked within an inch of your life. A woman's cunt is getting wet, wishing she were you, wishing it was her tits pressed against the glass and my hand around her throat."

She let out a rough snarl at that sentence, clenching her pussy so tight around me that I had to pause, screwing my eyes shut and counting in an effort not to come.

"Never. You're mine, no one else gets to have you." I could hear in her voice that her vehemence surprised her, but she wasn't taking it back. I didn't even try to hide the grin that split my face. I went back to fucking her, even harder than before. I hurried my fingers on her clit, and could feel her walls begin to ripple around me.

"That's right baby. I don't want anyone else. Other girls can watch, other guys can peek, but they'll never get to touch either of us. Because just as much as I'm yours, you're mine little Y/N."

That was all she needed. Like a bomb, she went off. Her scream would've been heard downstairs even over the music if this room wasn't soundproofed. I couldn't stop myself from following directly after her, and I held her tight in my arms as she came around me, my cock pouring its life inside her.

I somehow got us back to the couch, although I was in a haze as I did. I'd never come that damn hard in my life, and I was positive neither had she. I reached down beside the couch to grab my discarded suit jacket and placed it over her, nearly able to cover all of her. She curled into my chest, humming with delight at the warmth.

I pet her head, running my hands through her soft curls, wondering how to bring up what I wanted to say. I let out a big sigh, knowing I would just have to come right out and ask.

"You okay?" She lifted her head from my chest to look at me, concern furrowing her brow.

"I feel fucking amazing," I assured her. She smiled and settled back onto my chest. "Why didn't you tell me you were a virgin?"

Her body froze, and I could practically hear her panicking in her head.

"Umm..."

"Hey, Y/N, Look at me." She slowly tilted her head back to meet my eyes, her face in a full blush. I lifted my head to place a soft kiss on her lips. "I'm not mad. I just... could've been gentler. I didn't want to hurt you."

She shrugged, biting her lip. "Honestly, I was worried you might stop if I said anything. And I didn't want that. It didn't hurt as much as I was expecting, anyway." The corner of her mouth tilted in a grin. "I think the fact that you got me so wet I probably leaked onto your carpet helped a bit."

My cock twitched under her tummy, and a shocked laugh fell from her lips.

"Well when you talk about being that wet, what do you expect? That thing has a one track mind, babe."

She burst into a fit of giggles, burying her face in my chest. My heart expanded, warmth coating me at the sound. I waited until she caught her breath to talk about the one last thing I had on my mind.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"I meant what I said. I don't think I can ever let you go."

She looked up at me again, a huge grin on her face, happiness obvious. "Good. I don't plan on going anywhere soon."

"Thank fuck," I breathed out.

"In fact," Y/N continued, sitting up on my lap, my jacket curled around her shoulders. I drew in a breath at the sight, my cock beginning to harden again at the simple eroticism. "This birthday girl is in need of a little dessert."

Her eyes zeroed in on my growing cock, and a groan left me when I realized what she meant.

"Ever sucked a cock before, little slut?"

She shook her head, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her hands moved forward and grasped me, lightly sliding up and down. My head fell back against the arm of the couch, the feeling so damn good.

"Will you teach me, Dean?"

"Oh Y/N," I said, "I'll teach you anything you want to know, and things you didn't know you wanted to learn. This is just the beginning."

Her eyes shined bright with excitement and true happiness. My heart skipped a beat, and I knew this girl was it for me.

"Happy Birthday, my little slut."

THE END

[obsidiancreates]

Something Old, Something New

(Des meets my old evil version of me from when I was 13. I wrote it like how I pictured the inside of my brain looking back then too. So, weird. Weird and edgy.)

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Des looked around the space. “Now where were those Sides again...” she muttered.

Sid’s mind was difficult to navigate. Her constantly shifting thoughts and interests made the terrain just as unreliable, the ground changing shape and color with every step. The sounds of a thousand ideas choked the air, buzzing and screeching, somehow both too quite to hear and too loud to hear anything else. A song played behind the thoughts chatter, looping over and over, consistent background noise to the constant foreground cacophony.

Des moved out of the way of a a person, made of letters and some kind of gray mist, as they sobbed and ran past her. It left behind the feeling of abandonment, and on the ground where it had stepped it left behind words. “Rude Awakening,” Des read. Ah. An unfinished story.

She considered trying to recruit the story. She’d have to see if they had any kind of power or influence after they’d been left behind. If not, she’d let them die with Sid.

She continued on her quest. If she could find that ‘Jessa’, the irrationality Side, she could get her to overpower Sid...

Des walked right into a wall.

“Shit!” She reached up to hold her head, and felt something warm and wet. She brought her hand down, and found her fingers to be coated in blood and lava. She growled and wiped it off on the ground, which shifted from bright teal to deep red at her touch.

She looked up at the building she had slammed into. It was made of deep purple bricks. It didn’t seem to have a start or an end, stretching as wide and tall as the eye could see.

Des looked behind her. Had she already gotten to the subconscious? She couldn’t have...

There was one door. One way forward.

She rubbed her thumb on the end of her sword’s handle, and then went in.

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As soon ash she stepped through the door the world changed.

The music from before became overpowering, and the clamoring of the thoughts went completely silent. She was standing on solid ground, but there was no ground to be seen. She stood in a void, with only one thing in it.

A girl. A version of Sid, in fact. Not one that Des had seen before.

The girl’s hair was short and dark purple, or maybe long and bright purple, or maybe Sid’s normal hair...

Her clothes were a pair of ripped skinny jeans and a band shirt and a black hoodie and sneakers, and they were a black skirt with leggings and a long sleeved dark red shirt and knee-high boots, and they were loose jeans and a loose solid pink shirt, and-

Des rubbed her eyes. The girl’s appearance never stayed the same. All that remained unchanging was the fact that she looked like Sid. A... a younger Sid. From before Des had even existed.

The girl hovered in the air, grinning, singing along with the music.

“Now I know,” she did a spin, “there’s no-one I can trust!” She grabbed the shirt of a faceless figure and pulled them close “I used to think there was!” She shoved the figure away, and they vanished. “Tell me that I’m cut-throat!” She dragged a knife across her neck, grinning, her eyes wide and shifting between purple and black as though they just couldn’t make a decision, and as she dragged the knife across her throat blood poured out of it. “I think you got your eyes closed!” A giant pair of eyes materialized behind her, looking terrified and very similar to Sid’s own, and they squeezed shut.

Des stepped closer. How had she never even heard of this girl? She knew all of Sid’s characters...

“Feel the fear!” The girl stared down at a group of terrified people, all of them as hazy as extras in dreams, but terror clear on their blurry faces. “And swallow back the tears!” The giant eyes returned, crying, before the irises were swallowed with purple and the tears stopped flowing. “Let weakness disappear!” The girl threw her arms out and threw her head back, purple energy pulsing around her. “There’s nobody but me her!” she sang to a mirror, a mirror that showed a younger Sid pounding on the glass, screaming. The girl just grinned back. She grabbed the sides of the mirror and got close to the glass, her nose touching the image of Sid’s. “The killer in the mirror!”

The girl continued her little show, and Des tried to guess who she was.

She wasn’t a Side. She wasn’t some kind of new OC either, her age made that clear. But the song she was dancing to was new... so she must be an old character, and something dragged her back into the forefront of Sid’s imagination.

Realization dawned on Des.

Another evil ego. From long before Des was even a thought.

“Knock ‘em. In the. Teeth. Now,” the girl sang, slowly advancing on another dream-like group, “Never! Let your! Guard! Down!” She “Get some. Of what. They’ve. Got! Have it. And the. Have. Nots!” With every word she got closer. Des got closer as well, curious, and a little pissed off.

Another evil ego? Why did she come back? She was clearly stuck as the age at which Sid made her, so she hadn’t grown with her creator. She was a relic! A... worse version of what Des could have been!

Des wasn’t jealous. Of course not. She was the best, the best of all Sid’s silly little characters. She didn’t get jealous. At all. Ever. It was inconceivable.

The girl grinned even wider somehow. “Knock, knock, knock ‘em all the fuck out!” she screamed, lurching forward, a burst of power exploding through the void. Des shouted as it knocked her to the ground, pushing and dragging her across the floor, knocking the breath from her lungs.

She stayed still, wheezing, pain gripping her whole body. She could faintly hear the girl still singing, but her ears were ringing too much for it to be more than muffled incomprehensible noise.

And then she was pulled to her feet and staring the girl in the face.

The girl was considerably shorter, both because of her age and the extra height Des’s boots gave her. She made up for it by floating high enough to be at eye-level with Des. “Hiya!” she exclaimed.The blood and cut on here neck were gone without a trace. Her teeth looked just a bit too sharp to be human. Her eyes bore into Des’s, and if Des herself wasn’t an evil ego it might have set shivers through her spine.

The girl tilted her head. “Did that hurt ya?” She laughed. “I hope so!”

Des scowled. “Who are you?”

“I’m !)@%*!” she said, using Sid’s real name. Des flinched. The girl didn’t notice. “But cooler! And with no worries or limitations or restraints!” She shrugged, still grinning. “And a little insane!”

“I’m Sid’s evil ego,” Des growled. She drew her sword.

The girl tilted her head again. “Who’s Sid?” Her voice never stopped being cheery.

“I don’t use her real name, idiot.” Des straightened her posture and posed regally. “I am LavaDestroys.”

The girl chuckled. “I don’t have a name! Never did!” Her eyes never closed. They never even narrowed. They just stared, wide as they could be, never leaving Des’s own. “You look different!” The corners of her mouth drooped. It was barely perceptible, the grin was still plastered to her face, but it was clear something had upset her. “Older.”

Des nodded. “I am.”

“How much older?”

Des looked the girl up and down. “A little over two years, I think.”

The girl laughed, bitterness clear in the sound, her left eye twitching. “Two years? I’ve been gone for two years? And... you replaced me?”

Des put her sword away. The girl’s smile dropped completely, her teeth clenching and her breaths coming in short and shaky. Her whole face twitched with rage, and the purple of her eyes became much more red. She screamed, the void around them filling with clashing lights of various shades of purple. She gripped her hair, staring at the ground. Des backed away, but the rage powered light-show left her alone. She watched the girl, braced herself, and took a step forward.

She took slow, careful steps, until she was right next to the girl. She put her hand on her back. “You poor little thing,” she said, pity filling her voice. “Ignored, abandoned, forgotten...”

The girl’s head snapped up and she grabbed Des’s jacket, yanking her closer. “WHAT MAKES YOU BETTER THAN ME?! I WAS FUN! SHE HAD FUN IMAGINING FIGHTING ME!” Her voice cracked and rasped as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“It’s hardly my fault I was created!” Des didn’t fight back. This girl... she was made before Sid realized her love of manipulative villains. before Sid knew how to properly write manipulation... how it worked.. which left her open to a few ‘suggestions’ from Des. “I never even knew you existed! She ruined you, not me!”

The girl bared her teeth. “YOU STILL REPLACED ME!” She was practically howling the words.

“Please, if you must be angry with anyone, be angry with Sid!”

The girl dropped Des, tears filling her eyes. “She even changed her name in the time I’ve been... been dead! I’ve been DEAD to her!” She shook with rage, with the strain of trying to draw breath through her feelings taking up her chest. “Why shouldn’t I just kill you?! HUH?!” She grinned again, still crying. “Then she’ll HAVE to pay attention to me again!”

“Or,” Des said, using her most soothing voice, “We could fight her together.”

“What?” the girl growled venomously.

“I hate her as well, of course.”

“I don’t hate her! I- I want to help!”

Des blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“She’s so stressed all the time! Having to be sweet and happy and nice all the time!”

Ah. Of course, made when Sid was thirteen... the start of her emo/edgy phase.

“She needs to loosen up!” The girl spread her arms out. “And I can help her do that! She’ll fight against it, but she’ll like it eventually!”

Dammit. Des thought for a moment. “Fine... I think we could still help each other.”

“Oh yeah? How? You seem way too uptight for my taste.” The girl cackled. “I want to go wild! Be unrestrained! You look like you never stop holding things back!”

Des grit her teeth and took a deep breath. “Sid has changed since you’ve been gone,” she said. “Didn’t you notice the new music? The fact that you can curse now? I’m so different from you because she re-thought how she’d like an evil version of her to be. Because her preferences have changed. Her personality has changed. She’s a different person.”

The girl shook her head. “Not that different. I’m here again! I can feel it! She still wants to be able to loosen up! She still can’t be herself the way she wants to!”

“But she expresses herself more now,” Des argued. “Trust me. She’s not the girl she was when she made you.” ‘She’s just different enough for you to need me.’ Des tried not to smirk as she thought that.

The girl looked thoughtful. “You want to kill her. I need her.”

“Well, perhaps I can kill her in more ways than one.” Des smiled. “She’ll hardly be the Sid I’m bothered by if you get ahold of her.”

The girl stared into Des’s eyes. Des stared back, unblinking, unyielding.

The girl nodded slowly. For a moment she looked like a normal kid, looking for some help, some guidance.

“I... guess I could see that.”

Now it was Des who grinned too wide. “Wonderful. Come with me.” She held her hand out. “We have a lot to plan.”

[ti-bae-rius]

First Words - Jessa baby fic

So @cordeliashunts requested a Jessa baby fic (I think? Oh god now I’m concerned it was Jemma. Either way...) and so I decided to write it - with a touch of Kitty because, of course. I’m also using these as a little warm-up to my full-length fic so thanks for the request! Click read more for the fic!

Kit had always been an only child. Then again, he’d always been a mundane - or so he thought. For a long time, when he was little, he’d longed for a baby brother. Then when he got older, when the reality of life - with all its demons and Shadow Market scams and danger - fully hit him, like a freight train or a hundred tonnes of bricks, he realised the truth; there was no way he’d want a sibling to be born into this hell-hole of a world. There was no way he’d have been able to give his imaginary brother a good life, what with his dad entertaining clients and summoning demons in the lounge. No infant should be in a house with potion dealers and pentagrams. And just like that, in a puff of smoke like a dust cloud from one of his dad’s old books, his dream of a little brother was gone. It was selfish, he knew, but he’d liked the idea of a companion, someone to be there so he wasn’t alone hiding in the basements when shady people came by the house to collect something. He wanted someone to talk to, to confide in, to teach. He wanted someone who knew how it felt, the mystery and magic and misery. Who he loved, and who loved him. And then there had been someone. There had been someone to hide with and who made him feel brave enough not to hide. Someone who he could talk to and confide in and teach, who did all those things back. Someone who knew how all of it felt. Who he loved. 

And who didn’t love him.

Kit rolled over in bed, sick of waking up thinking of Ty Blackthorn. I love you, I love you, I love you. His hands tightened on the bedding. Still, after just over a year, he was mortified. Embarrassment jabbed at his sides as he read, shook him awake in the dead of night, shoved thoughts out of his brain as he tried to work and filling his head instead with ‘I love you’. He heaved a sigh and shifted onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his room in Devon. England was pretty - if drizzly and grey - especially when he could see the coast and hear the seagulls from his room. The beach reminded him of Los Angeles, which reminded him of Ty. What didn’t? The local accents reminded him of Sherlock Holmes, which reminded him of Ty. The paring knife in the kitchen drawer reminded him of throwing knives, which reminded him of Ty. Boys with black hair were a no-go, Tessa’s grey eyes ached to look at, and any animal in the world was a punch in the stomach. Ty was in every single part of his life.

Except for her.

Kit heard a gurgling yawn from across the hall and swung his legs out of bed, padding across the corridor to her room and putting his head around the door. She sat up in her crib and reached chubby starfish hands out to him. Even in his daydreams as a little boy, he’d never imagined a baby sister. 

“Hey, Cecy. Hi.”

Cecilia, his little sister, was Kit’s world. Her name was a twist on Will’s sister’s name, Cecily. Though not technically his sibling - she was Tessa and Jem’s daughter - she had always been his sister. Even before she was born, Tessa and Jem used to talk to the baby in Tessa’s stomach about her ‘big brother, Kit’. He heard the tell-tale pad of paws on the wooden floor and turned to see Church jump up and settle on the chair by Cecilia’s cot where Tessa and Jem sat to read to her. Sometimes, when Kit couldn’t sleep, he’d sit there and just watch her, a perfect little human with edges rounded by baby fat and rosy cheeks and tiny little fingernails so small they looked like pink flower petals. Her eyes were like Jem’s, dark and searching, but her tufts of brown hair were all Tessa. Kit couldn’t believe she was real, couldn’t believe he was part of their family. A proper family. 

Church yowled and Kit snapped back to reality.

“I’m already here, you miserable -” He stopped short of swearing at the cat, but only just. Partially for Cecilia’s sake, but partially because it always had a funny way of getting back to Jem. “Snitches get stitches,” Kit hissed at Church, who rolled boredly onto his back with his legs in the air, doing his best impression of being dead. Every morning, if Kit wasn’t awake when Cecilia stirred, Church would sit at the end of Kit’s bed and meow relentlessly until Kit got up, then follow him to make sure he was spoiling her sufficient amounts. And Kit was. He personally believed Cecilia would be a nightmare when she got older, with her parents and Kit doting on her every waking minute.

Kit scooped Cecilia into his arms and held her against his hip as he went downstairs to the kitchen. Tessa and Jem were asleep and Kit was unwilling to wake them. They were up all hours for night feeds and general parental duties. Now she was on formula milk, Kit was more than happy to make up her bottle and let them sleep. It also meant Kit could rant to her. Babies were surprisingly good listeners. Cecilia would babble incoherently along, and Kit appreciated the fact she’d taken on the role of his personal sounding board expertly. 

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Kit said now, pouring the cooled water into the bottle and scooping in the formula powder. He tapped the base of the bottle on the counter with more force than was probably necessary in frustration. “It’s like he’s everywhere. The beach; Ty. The garden; Ty. The caves...”

“Ty.”

“Exa-” Kit broke off, frozen. He eventually turned to stare at Cecilia in her high chair. “W-what did you say, Cecy?”

“Ty!” She giggled happily.

Kit dropped the bottle he was holding and only noticed when Cecilia wailed in indignation and put grabbing hands out for it, fists opening and closing. Like Ty’s did when he was anxious, Kit thought, then cursed himself. Now was not the time. 

“No no no...” Kit muttered, picking the bottle up from where it had rolled across the floor. He rinsed off the teat of the bottle and dried it on the bottom of his shirt absently, placing it into his sister’s grabbing hands. Kit still felt shell-shocked and stared into space as he sat down on the sofa. His baby sister had just said her first word and it wasn’t ‘mama’, or ‘dada’, or even his name. It was Ty. She’d heard the name so much that the first thing she’d ever said was ‘Ty’. All that time he spent venting to her, he hadn’t realised she’d been taking it all in. He hadn’t thought she’d say his name, at least not before anything else. This was a nightmare. What explanation could he possibly give Jem and Tessa for this? They’d be heartbroken. They’d also be suspicious. What kind of weirdo monologues to an actual infant about his pathetic, unrequited...something. Not crush. He couldn’t say crush. That made it too real. All those feelings he’d had when he saw Ty - his stomach fluttering, his heart flipping and other more embarrassing things - became something dangerous and frightening when he thought of them as symptoms of a crush. If Cecilia said Ty’s name in front of Jem and Tessa, the jig would be up. They’d know. They’d tell people. That’s what you did when your child said their first word, right? They’d probably tell Helen and Aline since they’d just started the process of having a baby of their own. What if they told Helen? What if they told Helen and Helen told Ty? Then he’d know. He’d know, if he didn’t already, that Kit’s ‘I love you’ had been more than friend caring for his friend, more than a brotherly show of affection. He’d know - they’d all know - Kit’s secret, and it was all his own fault. 

He looked across at Cecilia. If she understood him enough to say Ty’s name, then maybe...

“Cecy,” he said, kneeling down beside her high chair. Her rosebud lips puckered around the tip of the bottle and she smacked them happily. “Cecy, please. Please say something else. Mama, Papa, okay? Anything. Not...not that. I...” He could feel his voice starting to splinter and sniffed hard. “I love him, Cecy. And no one can know. No one but you. Please, Cecy.”

Cecilia’s eyelashes were so long as she looked down at her brother that they cast shadows across her chubby cheeks. She reached down and wrapped her whole hand around Kit’s thumb. Kit smiled up at her, seeing his own face reflected in her dark eyes, and hoped to God she understood him. 

“Morning, you two,” Tessa said, coming into the room and tying the belt of Jem’s old dressing gown over her nightdress. “Church has stolen my spot in bed. I’m sure that cat is gunning for my place as Jem’s wife,” she laughed, lifting Cecilia into her arms, beaming. ���How are you sweetheart? Have you been keeping Kit company? Smile for Mama.”

“Mama,” Cecilia repeated and Tessa gasped. Kit too feigned something like shock as he straightened up to look at his sister. She was a tiny genius.

“Did you hear that?” Tessa half-squealed at Kit. It was so unlike the composed and sensible Tessa he’d come to know that it was almost funny. “She said her first word! Come on, Cecy. Let’s go and show Dada. Say it again, sweetheart. Say ‘Mama’.”

Kit sunk onto the sofa in relief. His secret was safe. One day, he’d repay her for this, tell her this story with a smile and a ‘thank you’. For now, he’d shower her with kisses and love - as he always would - and hope she kept her unspoken promise. 

[reylofanfictionanthology]

The Reylo Fanfiction Anthology St. Valentine’s Day Love Fest

This year, to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day, we wanted to show the Reylo Writing Community a little bit of love by hosting a Reylo Fanfiction St. Valentine’s Day Love Fest. 

We will accept recommendations for this project until the end of February.  You can find details about how to submit a recommendation to the project here.

Love Fest List #1/?

Reylo Community Recommendations

all true lovers are by addictedtoacertainlifestyle

Summary: She might seem lonely, but Ben can sense that this forest is her faithful audience, and she is nothing but alone. The birds chirp a symphony to her, and the greenery around her bows, grateful to be blessed by her beauty. She truly is beautiful, but that’s not the entire reason he is so drawn to her. It’s her Magic.

Recommendation by @politicalmamaduck and dearly: “This fic epitomizes everything I love about Reylo, and my favorite AUs (historical/fairytale/mythology). It's basically a fic that I wish I had written or was capable of writing. The writing is just gorgeous and evocative.“ and “a lovely fairytale au one-shot with a slightly dark Rey.”

Eidelweiss by aionimica

Summary: Captain Kylo Ren hires Rey, a postulant from the local abbey to be a governess for his adoptive children. As time goes on, music grows in the Ren household and the Captain and Rey must choose: love or duty?

Recommendation by crossingwinter: “Because it is the Sound of Music AU I didn't know I needed until I read it!”

A Reylo Christmas by Biekewieke

Summary: Complicated situations call for intricate solutions... So when Leia Organa asks her Personal Assistant Rey to join her on a family vacation in Mon Torri for the holidays and highlights a big bonus, what is she to do? Only catch... Leia's son is coming along...Ben Solo is the enfant terrible of the family. Broody, sullen and with a huge chip on his shoulder, the young man is notoriously difficult. Combine this with complicated family dynamics, and you'll end up with one very interesting holiday.

Recommendation by @noppoh: “It's the perfect, Hallmark-type, Christmas fic. It has all the elements -- the misunderstandings, the secrets, and covert looks -- without it becoming cheesy or cliché. I absolutely adore it.”

running on empty by Jessa

Summary: Rey's on Jakku. Kylo's about to land. Something intrigues them both.

Recommendation by tehanufromearthsea: “This is a set of six drabbles. I love it because I think Jessa makes Kylo and Rey's characters very real. She has a way of grounding them and their environment in vivid, telling details.”

You're Sick, I'll Humor You by LoveThemFiercely

Summary: Just a short, silly, sickfic from @glitzescape's Tumblr idea.  It wedged itself into my brain while I was supposed to be writing something else, so here it is.

Recommendation by @nuanceismyjam: “It's short and simple and maybe a little silly, but it's also so so so sweet. I love the vulnerability of strong Ben Solo being a total baby when he's sick, and I love Rey shifting from her impatience to taking care of him. And the fact that she knows what movie he's going to ask for to the point that she loads it in the player before even asking which one he wants to watch? That makes me melt. I love me some soft!Ben, and we get that here in spades, even if it's because he's sick.”

miles we'll wander by meritmut

Summary: “I saw—a place,” she says, hesitates, forges ahead: “a planet. We were there. Both of us. I think—I think the Force was telling us to go there.”Her eyes are full of the stubborn faith that’s becoming so familiar to Ben: it draws him in.“I saw it too,” he breathes.

Recommendation by dearly: “Beautifully written canon divergence where Ben and Rey run off together.”

RFFA Writers Self Recommendations

(you’ll remember this) by addictedtoacertainlifestyle

Summary: A steady heartbeat; one look given, one returned. Again, and again.  They are the waves, together in motion until the universe collapses or the Earth dries out. After that, they continue, orbit around one another like celestial bodies, perihelion and aphelion, closer and farther in a never-ending dance. Again, and again.

“I’m very proud of how it turned out. it’s my favourite fic I’ve written, because I didn’t hold myself back and wrote exactly what came to my mind. It has a very poetic outlook on things, but is still realistic in a beautiful way. It’s vague enough for people to make their own interpretations what is going on outside of the fic, but the moments described in the fic itself have that kind of mundane beauty that I love.”

Event Horizon by Arwen_Evenstar

Summary: The old, decrepit body has fallen, finally. Wasn’t that expected? After all, there was a long tradition in the Dark Side of students bringing death to their Masters. This was no different. The intent, the resolve, was there. It only needed that extra push. The girl. He felt the conflict stirring within his pupil. And, slowly, the conflict became too loud for him to ignore. Kylo would be forever marred by the Dark, there was no going back - he made sure of it. The girl could try as she might, she would never succeed in full. He would be condemned either way - there was too much Solo in him, but he carried a heavy legacy. 

“It was my first solid, full story written for RFFA. It was an adventurous, exciting, tragic, love story, which ties with other stories that I am currently writing. I know its long, and perhaps its a wrong bet for me to propose it, but…I think it has so much of me in it…I had to propose it. Thank you for the opportunity.”

Syrup by cuddlesome

Summary: Rey offers Kylo her blood in an effort to get him to stop feeding on other members of the First Order.

“I love this fic because I really enjoy the idea of there being classic monster elements mixed in more with the main Star Wars canon. Vampires are really fun and Kylo is just perfect for it. I like to think about the logistics of having a terrifying bloodsucking commander in the First Order, how Snoke might control him, and Rey’s reaction to it.”

It Feels Like a Thousand Eyes by jitterygummy

Summary: "I lie awake and watch it all; It feels like thousand eyes" - Thousand Eyes by Of Monsters and Men Even with the thousands of eyes watching Rey and Kylo Ren, they find each other each anniversary. But a great deal can change over the course of a year.

“While it's an older fic, I still love how the style shows how much can change over the course of the year, and I think people might enjoy the dynamics of what could happen if Kylo had betrayed Snoke.” 

[badnovels]

Surprise Birthday Drabbles!

To celebrate this special day, we cooked up two Everlark drabbles just for you! Enjoy! <3<3<3

Love always,

Jackie & Caryn

The Garbage Will Do by JennaGill

Modern Everlark AU, featuring a scavenger from Jakku and lowly radar technician. I just couldn’t leave this idea alone and hope you like it! Happy Birthday Jessa!

********

“C’mon Peeta, you promised,” she said through the bathroom door, fidgeting with her middle bun. A bobby pin shook loose, and she wished she’d been more attentive while her mother arranged her hair. She grabbed another from the dresser and secured her hair hiding the elastic. She checked the top and bottom buns, fussing with the details of her favorite character.

“I dunno Katniss,” wafted between the crevices, spreading tendrils of doubt that they could pull this cosplay off at the Capitol ComicCon. “It’s a lot, Katniss. I’m Kylo acting as Matt, poorly, and I just want to be me.”

She straightened her muslin bindings and wrapped on the door with her staff. He promised this for her birthday and there was no backing down now. “I haven’t had my muffin yet, Matt!” she bellowed through the thin veneer, shoulders squared up to face him.

“Fine! Could you please not yell at me, you’re stressing me out!” Peeta huffed and stepped through the door, a vision in a beige jumpsuit, safety orange vest, over-sized glasses, and wayward ashy blond waves grown out especially for today. “You can’t even see how shredded I am in this,” he muttered and stomped across the room, grabbing his wrench.

“There’s my Undercover Star Killer Base Boss,” she drawled, proud of his transformation. She hooked her finger under his stiff collar and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. “If you keep this up Matt, I’ll treat your light saber right tonight…”

He hummed in approval, “Lead the way, Mrs. Radar Technician, lead the way.”

******************************************************************************

The Seventh Floor by Papofglencoe

A/N: Modern AU Everlark ficlet. Rated M/Eish? Basically this is just library porn, with a nod to a mutually beloved author (who would be appalled by this). Happy birthday, Jessa!

****************************

She watched, her mouth hanging slightly agape in shock at the sight of him, as he strode past the circulation desk and jabbed the call button for the staff elevator.

A goddamn masterpiece. That’s what he was, his wavy golden hair and the t-shirt stretched taut over his thick, muscular shoulders damp from getting caught in the summer squall outside. A fucking Picasso. Or a Renoir. Or… or one of the other names she really should have paid more attention to in any of the countless art museums in D.C. that she’d been dragged into in the past couple years. None of the masters she could think of now came anywhere close to capturing his beauty.

As the elevator descended, groaning on its ancient cables, Katniss had the ridiculous thought that even the machinery was bowing to him, drawn to him not because it was summoned, but from the magnetic pull of simply wanting to be near him, prostrate at his feet.

When the rheumatic elevator doors finally wheezed open, after what seemed like three delicious years of gaping at his ass, he glanced over his shoulder toward her. His shockingly blue eyes, framed by a pair of ill-fitting, black-rimmed glasses, locked on hers, and the ghost of a smirk flitted across his lips. He stepped onto the elevator, the doors sliding shut between them, and she would have written him off as a phantom, some gorgeous ghoul conjured by boredom and a dash of paranoia, if the panel above the elevator wasn’t marking his progress upward.

As he made his way higher, to the fourth, then fifth, then sixth floor of the library, her pulse sped up, hammering violently throughout her body. She could feel the blood throbbing in her neck, in her ears—so loud the world fell silent around her. The blood stampeded through her arms to the tips of her trembling fingers. It pushed her heart to its aching limit. It coaxed its way between her legs, heating her, inspiring her.

She squirmed on the stool where she sat, watching the number “7” light up. The elevator halted, waiting at the top floor of the library to be called again.

He’d gone to the seventh floor—a quiet floor—its stacks housing all the language and literature books the university owned. Of course that’s where he’d go.

“So, ah, I know no one asked me, but I vote you go find that nerd.”

Her coworker’s caustic tone snapped Katniss out of whatever trance he’d put her in the moment he’d walked through the library’s double doors.

“Eh,” Katniss demurred, nervous at the mere thought of it. “I don’t know…”

Her brain began to list out all the reasons it was a terrible idea. It was the week before finals. The library was swarming with students, and the circulation desk had been slammed all morning. To make matters worse, her boss was in the office today—albeit probably passed out drunk at his desk. Katniss looked at the mountain of books that needed to be checked back in and sorted onto carts for reshelving. She imagined the mountain growing to epic heights in the next twenty minutes, avalanching and smothering Johanna Mason to death.

Actually, that last part was sort of a pleasant thought.  

“Listen up,” Johanna sighed. “I can go on pretending I don’t know it’s your birthday and be the spectacular bitch to you that I usually am. But I’m feeling generous today, I guess. And I know for a fact that loverboy was shooting ‘fuck me’ eyes at you. So…” She waved her hand dismissively at Katniss. “Scram. If anyone comes looking for you, I’ll tell them you’re on the can from whatever crap you ate at the Union for breakfast.”

Katniss bit her lip, her nerves warring with the overwhelming urge to go find him. Not that she had any idea what to expect, or even to say, if she did. “Well…”

Johanna shot her a withering look, her limited patience with her having already run threadbare.

It was enough.

“Fine. Cover for me. But if anyone asks where I am, don’t say anything about the “can.” Tell them I took my break early.”

**********

What the fuck was she doing anyway? This wasn’t like her at all. This was reckless and wild and… and so completely unlike any script she’d ever followed. It’s not that she was a great respector and worshipper of the rules—not at all. She’d trespassed more times than she could count into local hotels to use their swimming pools. She’s smoked pot with her best friend Gale since she was fifteen, either lying to her mother or sneaking out in the night to get stoned in the playground of the local elementary school (“drug free zone,” her ass). Katniss was openly disdainful of authority, and, if she was not mistaken, she’d dreamt just last night that she’d embarked on a personal mission to assassinate President Trump (best dream ever).

But when it came to boys…

It was different.

She found him down one of the British literature aisles, a copy of Persuasion open in his hands. At the sound of her steps, he looked toward her, his cheeks flushing a ruddy pink. He snapped the book shut and carelessly stowed it back in what was probably not its place, the spine jutting out a couple inches.  

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice a low rasp in the almost sacred silence of the stacks.

“Hey,” she murmured back, wiping her suddenly clammy palms on her skirt. The thread connecting them pulled her toward him, the force of it unwilled but never more welcomed.

She stopped about a foot from him, unsure what to do next. Really, it was up to him.

The glasses he was wearing sat awkwardly on the bridge of his nose, a little too low. Not fitted for him. He pushed them up with one finger, but it did nothing to hide the fact that the glasses were also crooked.

“Sexy specs.” She smirked at him, hopelessly lost for him.

“Well,” he sighed, smiling down at her. “Unfortunately, my girlfriend has a thing for nerds, so I’m sort of stuck wearing them.”

“For now,” Katniss amended.

“Or,” he shrugged, “you know… whenever she wants.”

Katniss barked out a laugh, remembering too late where they were. She clapped a hand over her mouth to silence herself. In the distance, somewhere on the floor, she heard a chair push back and the soft snores of someone who’d lost their battle with studiousness.

It was probably a terrible idea, what they were going to do. Technically, they could get expelled. Or possibly arrested. But the minute Peeta had cracked a joke, in passing, about fucking her brains out in the library, it had become the fantasy that had sparked a hundred orgasms for her. It had been months, and it was all she could think about.

It was a terrible idea.

As the thought of what they were going to do came to her, Peeta seemed to read it on her body. Before she could change her mind, he had her pinned against the shelves, the hard planes of his body perfectly molded to the soft planes of hers, like two pieces made to lock together.

“Happy birthday,” he breathed against her neck before biting down on the flesh, sucking it between his teeth, nearly to the point of pain.

Katniss gasped, her hips involuntarily bucking at the sensation. As his tongue flicked the tender spot he’d left in the crook of her neck, Peeta grabbed one of her legs, winding it around him.

“You wore the perfect skirt,” he rumbled into her skin, burying two fingers deeply, shockingly fast, inside her.

Katniss’ head lolled back, ecstasy and agony raging through her. She wanted to burn alive, burn with him, burn this place to the ground. When she moaned, he leaned in and bit her lip harshly, punishingly.

“Shhhh,” he reminded her, his fingers curling inside her in a taunt. Teasing her, tormenting her, commanding her to moan again.

“Nerds don’t…” she gasped, her hands desperately trying to find their way into his pants, trying to grasp onto him, to feel him and love him. “Nerds don’t kiss like that.”

“Lucky for you, then, I’m not a nerd.” He backed away slightly, taking his fingers and the heat of his body with him. It felt like a cataclysm, that loss of his warmth and steadiness.

But instead of losing him, Katniss watched him sink to his knees in front of her, his hands coasting down her body, over her tits, her tummy, to her hips. He squeezed them, bracketing them with his hands as if touching her was painful to him somehow. He kissed her pubic bone softly over the fabric of her skirt, then dipped his head and bit her thigh.

“Oh god,” she said, wondering if god himself could see, could hear, would know what was happening. Wondering if god thought the creation before her was half as perfect as Katniss did.

She pointed upward, her arm flailing against the shelf. Amis, Austen, Auden went tumbling down around them as Peeta lifted her leg onto her shoulder and, moving the narrow fabric of her panties aside, began to speak to her in a language they’d made themselves.  

“They’ll see,” she panted, her index finger pointing to nowhere.

She could feel the rumble of Peeta’s laughter against her, seeping into her and moving her. His breath was hot against her, his hands bruisingly clutching at her ass.

“Then let’s put on a good show.”  

[ayearofpike]

Magic Fire

Pocket Books, 1999 226 pages, 18 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-02057-9 LOC: CPB Box no. 1726 vol. 8 OCLC: 41501833 Released June 1, 1999 (per Amazon; pretty sure B&N has a typo)

It takes pressure and friction to make a spark. Mark Charm has plenty of both, egged along by the mysterious and lovely new girl at school pushing him for more than he expected in a relationship, and not helped by the death of his mother. Of course, for most people this doesn’t manifest in an actual fire, to say nothing of one that engulfs a major metropolis. And as Mark starts to realize that he has more control over the spark and the flame than he knew, he also learns how he might be under control himself.

We’ve talked about misleading back copy before, but this one goes in so many directions after we meet the characters that there’s just no way it could nail it down. Still, to my mind, it doesn’t even come close. Sure, Mark is a pyromaniac, but he’s burning things to relieve tension in his own mind, not “just ‘cause.” And before I get too far ahead, I’ll just say that there’s more going on than what is in Mark’s own head.

This book marks a MAJOR turn for Pike in terms of thematic content. Like, maybe he noticed just how much of his writing was starting to follow the same patterns and tropes, and realized that it was time to do something completely different. The meditation guided through understandings of Eastern religion is still there, but: no powerful blood, no time travel, no genetic memories, no saviors of light, no burial in one’s own grave, not even ONE fourth-dimensional space lizard. Two books from the end of his contract, he’s finally giving us an entirely new story.

And it’s kind of a choppy one. I mentioned how it jumps all over the place, and we’ll get there in the recap. This was another book that I didn’t remember, that has a tight binding that indicates maybe I only read it once. (Although you may note the bite mark in the corner ... at the very least a dog, probably the puppy my parents got not long after this book came out, was interested in it.) As such, I started to get annoyed about not following the narrative and why it was making so many unexpected and unforeshadowed turns. But slowly, as I read, I started to remember the twist. It’s a big one (but maybe not so big if you were up on sci-fi in 1999) and it does a lot to justify why this narrative arc has so many loop-de-loops, some of which flatly don’t make any sense.

The story takes place in an alternate near-future Los Angeles, which isn’t really specified but we get senses of being out of time through the character’s words and actions. Mark is in a theater watching the new girl, Jessa Welling, star in a play about a witch. She’s such a good actress and such a good fit for the role that Mark starts to wonder if she wrote the play. But that’s not the only reason he hopes to get to know her better. In fact, he’s here at the play’s closing performance to try to talk to her. And he does, and she’s receptive, but he kind of flubs it and leaves too soon. He does want to go see his mom, though, who is sick in the hospital with cancer. And these two events, back to back, create this tension that he has to relieve somehow.

So he fills up a gas can and burns down a house. One that’s under construction  — Mark is always very careful to avoid hurting people when he sets fires. He’s been doing it for a while now, as his mother gets worse and he feels his life spiraling out of control. Maybe it’s ironic, or maybe there’s some deeper psychology at play, because his dad was a firefighter who was killed in action when he was ten. But this time Mark lights the fire in the upstairs master bedroom, and realizes as it spreads quickly that he has to get out, only maybe he won’t. But he does ... weirdly, it’s almost like the fire moves out of his way so he can.

Jessa catches up with him at school the next day, while he’s eating a turkey sandwich. (Oh yeah, I forgot that’s a Pike pattern, all the turkey sandwiches.) She’s smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer — ON CAMPUS — so it shouldn’t surprise him that she wants him to ditch school with her and go to the beach. It also shouldn’t surprise him that she has a harder drug to share with him. The drug, MAZE, is a psychoactive hallucinogen similar to LSD. Mark knows this, but doesn’t remember at first until Jessa reminds him. The gap in his memory bothers him, but not enough to not smoke it. Then he starts seeing aliens harvesting brains from humans and putting them in tanks of blue liquid on his TV, but the TV is off. He also has the overwhelming feeling that the world is not what it seems, and that Jessa knows a lot more than she’s letting on, and that she should just be forthcoming and honest with it. She cries and tells him that all she wants is him, and that she wants to tell him her story while she has him.

Mark wakes up in the middle of the night, and Jessa is gone, and he doesn’t remember anything they said or did after climbing into bed, least of all her story. What he does remember is that he hasn’t talked to his mom at all during the day, and so he figures he’ll drop in on the hospital and check on her while she’s sleeping. Only she’s not in her room — the nurse baldly and candidly and pitilessly tells him that Mrs. Charm died that evening. And if seeing her labor to sleep the night before was hard, it’s even worse that she died and Mark wasn’t with her. So now he has to burn something big. And what’s bigger than a city?

He’s thought it out. He knows where to steal a gas truck, where to drive it to cause the most damage, how to get the fire going. But he doesn’t have his lighter with him, weirdly. So he steals a bike and rides it home, where Jessa is waiting on the steps. And she knows he lights fires, and she wants to help him with this one. What happened to not hurting people? Well, if there’s one thing Jessa has said without fail since they started talking, it’s that it’s not possible for either of them or anyone else to get hurt through their actions. How can she know this? We’ll get there.

They drench the bushes along the side of an access road that surrounds his neighborhood, but when he lights the gas at one end the fire stops before it runs the whole trail. He races to the break and lights the next section, but then there’s another break a farther distance away, and now the fire at the first part is threatening the fumes of the empty tanker truck. The pressure is building, though, to keep the fire going, and as he thinks it the fire jumps the gap and races down the whole road. He doesn’t get back to the truck in time to stop it exploding, though. Jessa is thrown clear, but her legs are badly burned and she can’t walk. So now Mark has to carry her out of this neighborhood, which is literally SURROUNDED by fire. He finds a drainage tunnel in a valley and they hide out in it, but she can’t crawl and he can’t carry her and it heats up and they pass out, figuring they’re goners.

But they’re not! Mark wakes up in a fancy penthouse apartment, with windows facing his area of destruction. Jessa is beside him in bed, and they’ve both been cleaned up and bandaged. Before he has too much time to think about it, a man in black walks in and says he’s saved them, for the reason that Mark has power over fire and he needs his help. To prove his power, the man in black pulls out a tube of cream and heals Mark’s burns instantly, saying that he’ll do the same for Jessa once they work for him. So they ride out to the desert, to this nondescript compound two hours from anywhere, where Mark can start to hone his ability.

What do they need Mark to do? Well, apparently there’s been an alien invasion, and the aliens hide among us and are manipulating us, and his fire can burn out their computers and put a stop to it. How can he do it from the desert? Well, the computer is closer than he thinks, everyone says, but also he’ll be able to do it psychically from a distance. He just has to think of the thing he wants to burn and it’ll burn. But how can he think of something he doesn’t know and has never seen? Well, it turns out — as Mark seems to see ahead into the meta-narrative and feels like all of this was already written, like everyone, even he, knew the fire would work because it was so prescribed — that Jessa knew who he was, that she coaxed him into feeling his power, and that she’s now using her own pain to help the Man in Black manipulate Mark. Because she’s been recruited to the cause already, and her power is that not only can she see into somewhere else but that she can take people along with her. And that’s how they’re going to see the computer so Mark can destroy it.

Still, she beseeches, just because she works for this shadowy organization doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love Mark. She tells him a little more about the invasion: apparently it happened ten years ago (or maybe two; she slips a little bit, making Mark think she’s still lying) and the aliens are more all-seeing than anyone could know. And as they get into the alien center to see where they need to be, it becomes clear just how much. The alien center, you see, is a vast complex of blue tanks full of human brains. Our brains. Mark’s brain, in particular, which bobs up next to him and he just knows it’s his. It’s what he saw on MAZE, made painfully real. And this is what Jessa meant in it not being possible for them to get hurt: they have no bodies to hurt and no environment to hurt them.

I talked about Pike predating The Matrix before, with his roof-running helicopter-stealing Last Vampire. By the time this book was released, the movie had been out a couple months, but to my memory it would still take a few more before we really started to appreciate what it had done for sci-fi storytelling. The idea of reality taking place inside our brains certainly wasn’t new, but it’s interesting that these two stories would take such a similar approach to it. Mark quickly learns that yes, by human perception the invasion was ten years ago, but the aliens probably froze us before returning to their planet some 420 light-years away. Now, in what’s probably closer to the 26th century ECE (Earth Common Era) than the 21st, what we know as Earth is what it likely would have continued as if we had corporeality and were still on the planet, but in a simulation that is more controllable by the aliens — who, by the way, planted primitive versions of themselves on various planets to see and study how they might grow and evolve in such an environment. Yes: they are us and we are them.

So if Mark kills the computer, he’s basically killing human society. He is disabling the mechanism by which these billions of brains continue to function as people. Does he have that right? The Man in Black (or should I just start calling him Morpheus?) argues that it’s a responsibility: that we should save our race from being manipulated by these higher aliens because no matter what we might think or feel, our lives are not our own. Jessa agrees, but she also has a plan to overtake the bodies of the two computer techs minding the simulation, so that she and Mark won’t go down with the ship, and they can stay together. There aren’t a whole lot of options, she says — to which Mark responds that it’s kind of like being trapped in a maze.

It takes a little more convincing that I’m glossing over, but Mark eventually agrees to this plan. Jessa’s psychic ability allows her to force the tech’s souls out of their bodies so she and Mark can jump in, and then instead of disabling the computer he uses his fire to boil the tanks, making sure that no brains survive and the aliens can’t keep the experiment going. There’s a brief inquiry, but nobody believes that either of these two highly-placed scientists would have ruined their experiment on purpose, so they’re sent home.

Mark and Jessa do inherit the latent memories of the bodies they occupy, so they know that they’re a couple with a young child. But neither of them really seems to know what that means until she gets home from school. Mark is surprised by the depth of his love for the kid, and taken aback at how Jessa apparently has none. In fact, she immediately starts planning to book a spaceship and fly BACK to Earth, WITHOUT the child, so that they can be free and alone together. It’s going to involve hijacking a powerful science vessel and remote-burning the brains of all the crew to get home, but Jessa is insistent. Mark eventually convinces her that they need to bring the child because otherwise it’ll be suspicious, and another 420 years of extended hibernation later they land on the island that used to be Los Angeles.

It’s not habitable without the tech from the ship, but Jessa wants to make it so, to get to a point where they don’t need “alien” help as soon as possible. In fact, she often goes into the wilderness, where the animals have taken over and become more populous, without any high-tech way to defend herself or call for help. It’s on one of these trips that their daughter dies, slipping and falling into the ocean and being dashed against a concrete pillar by a huge wave. Of course Mark wasn’t with them, so he didn’t see it. But now he’s starting to see more than she wanted him to ... more than he should, even. He sees that everything he’s seen so far has only been what she wanted him to see, even in the desert and on the alien planet and in the spaceships. And how could that be unless she had constructed the very existence around them? And if all of this is a construct, how is it possible to be happy? Is that what Jessa meant the whole time about not getting hurt?

She knows. She acknowledges. But she won’t leave with him.

And suddenly Mark is waking up in a dingy clinic in Mexico in 2010, with wires coming out of his head and his younger sister warning him not to come back too quickly. The clinic, it turns out, is called MAZE: Mental Alteration Zeitgeist Expansion. It’s a technology that allows you to bypass your senses and have information sent directly to your brain, to escape reality and live in a simulation of your mind’s own making. Jessa has been under for a year, and she’s slowly dying, and Mark went into her simulation to try to get her out. Only she wouldn’t come: she would rather die in her fantasy than survive in reality.

So everything we’ve read, this whole story, was constructed by Jessa for the inside of Mark’s brain based on what she already knew about him — not just the narrative arc, but the mother dying (even though his mom is fine), the pyromania and pyrokinesis (because he liked watching fires), the love for a child (that resembles his sister), all of it. Only here in the epilogue do we get Mark’s actual brain bemoaning Jessa’s end and wondering why it was so critical that he not have anyone but her ... but also questioning his own reality a little bit.

And the Matrix goes deeper. I hadn’t seen it at the time I read this — but I HAD read Grant Naylor’s Better Than Life, which posited a similar technology and built the narrative in a similar way, so I wasn’t totally blown away by the twist ending. If I hadn’t read that one, though, I probably would have been super pissed here. Talk about your St. Elsewhere ending, the “it was all a dream” completely wiping out all that came before. Sure, it’s justified once you get there, but Pike doesn’t give quite enough time and description to show how MAZE might be desirable, or ESPECIALLY what it was about Jessa, what happened to her, that made her want to escape into her own mind. And he could have: he teases at her story early on, but it never comes back. Like, this is top-five among his longest YA books, and he only gives five pages (if that) to “here’s what actually happened,” and it’s ALL MARK. (Die Softly, the longest, gives a lot more credence to what the villain thought and where she was coming from in the end.) He's acknowledged the end is rushed, too ... I wonder if we can chalk that up to more publisher politics.

There’s some contextual homework to do to really understand and appreciate Magic Fire. I’m not mad at this book — in fact, it’s quite admirable that Pike wove so many layers into the story of how-deep-does-the-simulation-go in a YA book. Still, this was 1999, and we were already starting to see the effect Harry Potter had on youth literature. There was room to go even deeper and explore more about this climate, context, and rationale that put Mark and Jessa into such a tenuous situation. If Pike had done that, maybe he’d have been able to keep up his presence as an author. But maybe he couldn’t, or maybe he just didn’t want to. 

[shanedawsonfanfiction-blog]

But I Am Not A Superhero. Chapter 1.

Chapter One. November 19, 2017.

It was nearly four in the morning and I was laying in my bed, watching YouTube with my earbuds plugged in, actually one of his conspiracy videos, when the video suddenly paused and my phone started playing his ringtone, the intro of his hit song, ‘Superluv’.

Why is Shane calling me? I thought to myself as I looked at his number on my screen.

I bit my lower lip, listening to the ringtone start all over. I hadn’t heard from Shane since he started dating a Hilary Duff look-alike YouTuber called Lisa Schwartz, so it took me off-guard when I heard his ringtone.

The day that I actually got the guts to tell Shane that I liked him more than a friend was actually the day that he had huge news. So naturally I let him tell me the huge news first.

‘Stupid idiotic me.’

The huge news was that he was dating Lisa. So of course I didn’t tell him how I felt.

My thumb hovered over the red reject button, I really didn’t want to play catch up with him. I knew that it would really hurt because I still had feelings towards him. But something in the pit of my stomach made me answer Shane’s call. I pulled out the earbuds as I heaved a heavy sigh then hit the green button on my screen.

“Shane?” I asked, putting the phone to my ear, in utter shock, I moved so that I was sitting on the edge of my full sized bed, pulling the cord of my nightstand lamp.

I ran my thin fingers through my semi-long brown hair. It short of looked like the cut Shane had back in 2012. So it was kinda short, barely hitting my shoulders and covering my right eye.

‘Very emo and very not in style but I didn’t care. I like it.’

“Jess, hey.” Shane said softly then he cleared his throat, pulling away his phone slightly as he did so, “Did I wake you? I forgot about the three hour difference.”

“No, I was actually watching one of your videos, they are very creepy and well researched on your part.” I admitted softly, “You have changed just a little bit, still hilarious but more grown up. Though I can still see the nineteen year old Shane, sometimes.” I laid on my back in the middle of my bed, looking at my ceiling light that was shut off.

“Thank you, I am glad you still like my videos.” He said, it sounded like he was also laying down, probably on the brown leather couch in his office or the gray couch in the living room, “Do you actually think I have changed?”

“Yes, you have changed. I think I actually like the newer videos a bit more than your older videos. But I will always love your older videos, because... Well... They are a part of my younger adulthood.”

“I understand that, Jess. Thank you for saying that.” Shane said to me, “Are you still living with Momma Barnum and your sister, Sophia?”

‘Very odd question to ask.’

I wrinkled my forehead in confusion, I was surprised that he remembered my half-sister’s name, and just because it had been so long that we talked last.

Shane and I were the same age, had similar pasts, and had the same sort of shit to deal with. Like a single parent household, a father that we didn’t like, and having issues with bullies. So of course, we became very close. I remember thinking of him as my slightly older brother.

‘Well until those feelings changed into something more.’

I stood up and walked to my old oak desk, opening my laptop and logging into my Twitter, “I do still live at home. I actually tried to live in a group home for mentally disabled adults, as you know, it wasn’t a fit for me.” I went to his profile and liked a few of his tweets.

My biological father shook me when I was two months old. I had a brain bleed so some things were effected, like my speech, my balance and my fine motor skills. I was all there mentally. I got made fun of all the fucking time by my disability (even from a few family members, I’ll get to that a bit later) before most people got to know the real me.

As I grew up, in a way like Shane, I also had a persona. A better version of myself that I used online or when I met new people in real life. There were only a slim few who actually knew the real me. Shane was one of them, of course.

Shane and I actually met on a website called. We became best friends that way and once we were comfortable with each other, I finally told him about my disability and he didn’t judge me, and he actually supported me. Which utterly shocked the living crap out of me, even after him knowing I was half expecting him to go away and never contact me ever again.

“Because you are physically disabled, not mentally disabled.” He sounded like he was now walking around his house, “That was a horrible fit for you, no doubt. Why did you even try the group home? Knowing you and knowing that you are independent and whatnot, you just need some help, living there just for a few days would drive you fucking crazy.”

“My case manager wanted me to get a taste of living alone. I lasted like five days till I wanted to shoot my brains out. They treated me like a fucking four year old, I had to stay in my bedroom twenty-four/seven with a roommate who would look at me for hours on end, I had to stay in my pajamas, unless I had any visitors and they didn’t understand that I was vegan. I’m not vegan anymore, by the way. I love meat and other shit way too much.” I said, laughing a little at the end. Then I logged out of Twitter and went back on my bed and laid on my back.

He made a tutting noise over the phone call, “Jess.” He sighed. I bit my lower lip slightly, loving that he still cared even after all these years, “Well, at least you tried it and found out that a group home isn’t for you. Would you ever want to try to live alone or with a friend that you trust more than anything?”

I narrowed my brown eyes slightly, ‘Why is he asking me these kind of questions?’ I thought to myself as I saw the door open slightly and I heard a soft squeaky meow. It sounded more like a mouse but I knew that meow. It was my kitten’s meow, Persephone.

I shrugged as Persephone, my six month old kitten, who looked just like Shane’s cat Muffins, she climbed onto my chest and head-butted my left hand a few times, as if to say ‘Pet me, Momma. Please Momma, pet me.’ I gave in and petted her, “Sure, I mean I am almost thirty, just like you. I do not want to live with my family till I die, that would be just sad. And don’t get me started on my sex life. It sucks. Like ‘yup, I live with my overbearing mother, lets fuck while she isn’t home’.”

We both cracked up into a fit of laugher at that. It felt so good, laughing with Shane again.

“But I hardly get laid because when I finally tell them that I am disabled, they disappear like a puff of smoke. So my sex life is like yours when you were in high school.”

“That has to suck.” He said, “Now name three places you want to either live or visit.” He said to me. I stayed silent for a few moments, thinking hard, “Paris, Germany and California. Why are you asking?” I rubbed Persephone’s neck softly and she started to purr loudly.

“Just curious.” He said simply and I narrowed my eyes.

‘I know him better than anyone, he has a reason.’

I sat back up, making Persephone jump off of me, as she hissed at me angrily because she was comfortable on my chest, “Sorry, kitty.” I said softly, putting my feet on the hard iron bar that held up my mattress, “Shane Lee, I know you better than I know myself, so spill.” I put my elbows on my knees.

I only used his middle or real last name when I was sort of upset or mad at him. I really did know Shane better than myself and sometimes it scared me.

Shane was silent for a few moments then I heard him sigh, “Ryland and I broke up about a week ago.” I heard a cupboard door creek open over on his end, he was eating his feelings and that made me want to hug him and comfort him.

“Shane... I am so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” Wait, of course you don’t, never mind. I said in a soft voice. I shook my head in disbelief. I was actually happy that he had found someone else that made him happy.

‘Lisa and now Ryland. People who I thought would stick with Shane till they die.’

“I am okay.” Shane said, his mouth full of whatever he opened in the cupboard and stuffed in his face. Knowing him it was probably a package of Reese’s cups or some other kind of chocolate.

“Shane...” I started to say, but he stopped me, “Jessa, I am okay. Really.”

“Okay, I’ll drop it.” I sighed, I knew when to not to push him to talk about things because he would just shut down and I didn’t want to stop talking to him quite yet.

“Thank you, Jess.” He said, I heard him walking through his house, “So I have another question for you.”

“You want to ask if I would be willing to visit you, aren’t you?” I asked, laying back down on my bed, playing with a strain of my hair with two fingers.

‘I wouldn’t mind keeping him company, he is not living with Momma Yaw anymore and he has his shit together now. Well, somewhat put together. We could take care of each other, I could help him heal and he could help me live on my own. It would be a win-win.’

“I was leading up to that question, but yes. Would you want to finally meet? Stay with me for a month or something. We can play by ear when you get here. What do you think about that?”

I rolled onto my stomach, “Well, now you are in a better headspace, you have your own place, and you are more than able to take care of me. I see no reasons why we can’t meet each other now.”

“Would Momma Barnum even let you travel across the country to see someone that you met over the Internet?” Shane asked then I heard him tell Uno ‘No.’ His dog was probably doing something bad.

“What is Uno doing?” I asked as I smiled a little.

“He was jumping on me. I am trying to teach him not to jump on people when he is excited about something. Anyway, do you think Teri will let you?” Shane had suddenly became serious because he would hardly ever use my mother’s real name.

I sat up on my knees, I grabbed a pillow and hugged it against my chest, “Maybe, if I tell her who you are and that you won’t rape me, murder me and chop my dead body in a dozen pieces and throw my body in the ocean or something.”

Besides watching his YouTube videos for hours on end, I had another bad habit of binge watching crime shows like ‘Deadly Women’, Wives with Knifes’ and some others. I actually took a course in high school about solving crimes and I of course, aced it.

I heard his laugh and it made my heart do a dozen or so backflips. I gripped my pillow a little tighter as I smiled softly, trying not to squeal.

“No I won’t do anything bad to you. If it makes you feel any better, Momma Yaw is actually going to be in Chicago in a few days, I could tell her to make a pit stop to Detroit and pick you up. So that you won’t be flying to California all alone. I remember you saying that you only flew once. Coming to the United States from Germany and you can’t even remember it because you were a baby.”

He was being serious!

“That would be better. For Momma Barnum’s nerves and mine. So I’d be with Momma Yaw on the plane, not all alone?” I asked chewing on my lower lip.

“Not all alone, not at all. I promise you that. She would be with you the whole way. Then when you land at LAX, I’ll pick you two women up, then depending on the time that your planes land, we could go out for food or just head home.”

This was a different Shane from the years beforehand, the last time we were trying to meet each other, we couldn’t form a plan to save our lives. But now, he had everything planned out.

See what happens in only a few years later.

“Well, Momma Barnum really can’t say no, I am not a kid anymore so all I have to do is to tell her what is going on, tell her that we have everything planned out.”

“Very true. Oh and you don’t need to bring any money. I am more than willing to buy you what you need when you get here.” I could hear him take a few gulps of something, then swallow, “Think of it as an all paid vacation.”

“Sounds wonderful.” I laughed a little, “But that would probably be the selling point for Momma Barnum. We are still struggling with money. We make ends meet and get everything paid. We just don’t have a lot of left over money after paying all the bills and getting food.” I slid off of my bed and walked to my closet door.

“Been there, so I understand. Not a fun time. So are you really thinking of visiting me?” Shane asked me seriously.

“I am, actually.” Grabbing my black over the shoulder suitcase, “Do you know that exact date that Momma Yaw will be in Chicago?”

“November 29th through December 6th I believe, not really sure. I will text you with the right dates after I call her.” Shane heaved a sigh as if he was sitting down on a couch.

I gently put the suitcase down on my bed and unzipped it, “Another question.” I said, finding Persephone laying on my desk chair.

“Yeah?” Shane asked me through the phone.

“Is Cheeto okay with other kitties? I don’t want to leave my little princess with my family. They hardly remember to give the pets water every day and clean the litter box. I don’t want to worry about her while I am gone.” I picked up Persephone and nuzzled her, she struggled out of my grip because she hated being held.

“Of course, bring your baby with you!” He sounded like he was smiling, “Cheeto will probably hiss at her for a day or two but after a while he will get used to her. Is your princess up to date on her shots and other things?”

“Yes, she is heathy, spayed and flea free.” I said then kissed her head, “You are going to hate the flight but it will be worth it, Persephone.” I told her as she jumped down and climbed onto my bed and laid on it.

“The princess of the Underworld, it is a cool name.” Shane said.

“Yeah, I wanted her to have a princess name but she is a butthead so I decided on Persephone. I tend to call her Seph for short. She kinda looks like she could be a sibling of Muffins or at least maybe a daughter of her.”

“You remember Muffins?” He sounded completely shocked.

‘How could I ever forget about Muffins and his other pets? They were always in his videos.’

“Of course, I see that Momma Yaw is keeping her fat and happy. I follow her on Twitter.” I sat down on my bed looking at my dresser debating on what to pack.

“So you guys are still having money troubles? You kinda hinted it before when talking about Momma Barnum letting you visit me.”

I opened my shirt drawer of my short chubby dresser and picked out seventeen shirts (I even grabbed a few Shane Dawson shirts just as a joke) and packed them in the suitcase, then I shut the drawer, “Yeah, we are. We were doing okay for a few years after the divorce from Steve, Sophia’s father and my first step-father. Then Momma Barnum met an I.T web designer guy for Ford on Match.com, and got hitched soon afterward. But he cheated on a twenty-three year old church lady who sings in the fucking choir only four years after getting married, and she looks like a freaking whale. Downgrade, I am telling you.”

“Oh, that must have been horrible. I am sorry about that. Is that why you practically jumped at coming to visit me?” Shane asked then he called Cheeto to him then said, “My freaking cat hates me. He literally walked away from me.”

I chewed on my lower lip, putting my folded clothes in my suitcase, “Partly, but mainly it’s because I wanna meet you and cheer you up.”  Then I sat on my desk chair, “And don’t fucking lie to me, I know that he loves you.”

“I understand that, meet you favorite older brother and get away from the stress of money issues.” He laughed a little as I opened my closet door and grabbed my four hoodies, one gray, one pink and two black. I folded them and put them in the suitcase, then I shut the closet door.

“What are you doing?” Shane asked, I guess he could hear me moving around my bedroom.

“Packing some stuff now, so I don’t wait last minute.” I said opening my jean drawer, then grabbing only nice skinny jeans. Seven pairs. Three in black, two in gray, one black with white strips and another single pair in dark blue.

“Always need to be ready, don’t ya?” he joked. He knew that I always had to be organized. Even more so when it came with trips.

I balanced my phone between my cheek and shoulder as I folded my jeans so that were folded in a smaller square, “Shut up.” Then I put the jeans in the suitcase.

I decided to pack my other clothes when the day came nearer, so I put my suitcase near my desk with a light ‘flop’.

“I’ll let you go for now, okay? I really need to edit some videos that I did in the past few days.” He said to me, “Don’t be a stranger, you can text me and call me whenever you want. I hardly ever asleep.”

“Okay. I’ll text you when I tell Momma Barnum about visiting you.” I said as I sat on my bed, “It was great to hear from you again.”

“It was, I am glad I decided to call you. Talk soon, okay?” He said.

“Okay, bye.” I said as I laid on my bed, smiling softly I plugged in my phone and rolled over to my left side.

“Bye Jess.” He said then he hung up.

I put my phone on my nightstand, plugged it into my charger and shut off my light. I covered myself with my bedsheets and decided to get a few hours of sleep before I had to take care of my mother’s dog for her while she went to work.

--

I heard my mother’s footsteps on the main floor, headed to the bathroom, I rolled over on my back and rubbed my eyes.

After I yawned, I looked at my phone, it was six in the morning and I had a text message waiting for me from Shane. I clicked on the message as I smiled.

Shane- I was right, Nov. 29 through Dec. 6. She said she could come and get you in the morning of the seventh.

I smiled at the text, I didn’t reply because I didn’t want to bother him while he edited his videos. I slid off my bed and grabbed my red wire rimmed glasses and putting them on then I made the way out of my bedroom and to the dining room. I sat down on a high back wooden chair, “Morning Mom.” I said as I saw her walk out of the bathroom.

My mother was fifty-two and looked a lot more like thirty-two. She also looked a lot like me but a tad older. She had long black wavy hair, big brown eyes and very pale skin. She was a little heavy set but she made it look good. She was in her dark blue nursing uniform.

“Hi, you are awake early.” She said as she walked to the kitchen to make us cups of coffee with the one cup brewer that we had.

“Do you remember Shane?” I asked, opening up the convocation.

She handed me my orange kitty coffee cup, the tail was the cup’s handle. The cat kind of reminded me of Cheeto. She nodded, “The guy from YouTube? Yeah I remember him. Was that who you were talking to earlier this morning? You weren’t quiet.”

I held my coffee cup with both hands and blew on the hot liquid, “Yes, he called me.” I glanced up at her and set my coffee cup down, “He asked me to visit him. I really want to, Mom. And before you ask me a dozen questions, we have it all set. His mother is going to pick me up on December seventh, he said I don’t have to buy anything or bring any money with me and...” I sighed shrugging, “I really want to see him, Mom.”

“He lives in California, correct? That is a long way from Michigan.” She glanced at me as she held up her green frog coffee cup, “Will you be on the plane all alone?”

‘I knew she would ask me a million of questions.’

“No, his mother is going to fly with me back to California.” I said the sipped my coffee, “She is going to be in Chicago and then she would come here to get me before going back home.”

“When are you coming back home?” She asked me, glancing at me.

I bit my lower lip, “He suggested a few weeks or a month, we don’t really know.” I admitted softly, looking at her, “maybe more than that. It depends on me I guess. If I like it, I might stay longer, but if I don’t I’ll come home sooner.”

She nodded, “Okay, are you taking your kitten with you?” She stood up and packed a lunch for herself.

“I asked and Shane seemed excited on having another cat in his house for a while.” I said, tapping my fingers on my coffee cup.

“Don’t forget your health care cards when you pack your I.D.” My mother said, “If you have a fall or something, you will be able to go to the E.R without any trouble.”

I snapped my head up to look at her, “You are letting me go? Like for real? You aren’t bull shiting me?”

This can’t be happening! I actually thought she’d say no!

“I am not bull shiting you. I know you always wanted to meet him and I also remember how heartbroken you were when he was dating his girlfriend. Lisa.” She walked to me and pushed back my hair, then kissed my forehead, “I won’t hold you back from meeting him.”

I wrapped my arms around her middle, “Thank you! Thank you!”

She patted my head, “No problem. I am off on the seventh so I can take you to the airport. I don’t want to have Sophia to drop you off all alone without me.”

I smiled and nodded, “Thank you again.”

She shook her head and sat back down to finish her coffee, “Just take a lot of pictures and send them to me, alright? I just want to know that you are having fun with him.”

I smiled brightly, “I will, I promise!”

Suddenly we heard noises from the basement and then I saw Tobias and Sophia. Tobias was Sophia’s very stupid, untrained dog.

“Morning…” Sophia muttered as she took her dog outside then walked to the bathroom.

“She has to take me to work, because her and her gang are going to the mall today.” Our mother explained to me.

I tried not to roll my eyes, when I was a kid while we were poor, I hardly went out to the mall with my friends. I went back to my coffee.

Sophia walked out, her long blue hair up on a messy bun. She walked to the living room and put on her black slip-on shoes while with one hand she was looking at her iPhone screen. Then she let in her stupid hound dog and fed him, without uttering anything else to us.

‘How she could do anything without actually looking at what she was doing, I never knew how she could do that. Crazy.’

Sophia was seventeen years old, slightly heavy set, hazel eyes that she always had dark eye liner around them and she always had her hair dyed a weird color, this month it was bright blue.

“I am ready whenever you are.” Sophia said to our mother, grabbing the car keys. We only had one car so they had to share it. I learned how to drive but I was terrified to actually drive so I never did.

“Okay.” She looked at me, “Your clothes are in the dryer so tell Sophia to bring it up later today so that you can pack.” Our mother said as she pointed at me, “You have your suitcase? I can tell Sophia to look for it for you in the basement.”

I nodded, “I got it. It was in my closet. I have some things packed in it already.” I said softly.

Our mother smiled and walked to the table, grabbing her coffee cup, “Of course you have. You are always prepared and always early for things.”

“You going somewhere?” Sophia asked as she looked at her iPhone screen, still in living room. Her eyes were almost always glued on the goddamned screen.

‘Could she do anything without looking on her phone screen? I swear.’

“Jess is going to visit Shane for a while.” Our mother said as she rinsed out her coffee cup in the sink.

Sophia walked into the dining room, “Shane? Shane Dawson? Seriously?” she rolled her hazel eyes at me, “He has been on YouTube for ten years. He had lost his humor, when he shaved his hair. To me, he is dead.”

I glared at her, “I think he got better over time, I mean he did grow up.” I raised an eye brow at her, “That’s what most people tend to do after they turn a certain age.” I glared at her.

“He is stupid. His content is lame and he steals ideas from other YouTubers.”

I rolled my eyes, “Actually, no he isn’t, unlike newer YouTubers he doesn’t need to beg for views or likes or buy for views. Now that is stupid. And for a fact, no he doesn’t ‘steal’ ideas and if he does, he tells us whose idea that he stole so he won’t get mean comments.”

I learned a while ago that some newer YouTubers actually bought themselves views or likes. How fucking sad.

‘Thankfully Shane never had to do that.’

Sophia glared at me and was about to open her mouth but our mother snapped her fingers at her, “Okay enough!” She looked to Sophia then to me, “Jess is going, so don’t make fun of him and don’t hold her back from packing. After you get home you go back downstairs and bring up her clothes before you hang out with your friends.” She kissed my cheek, “Bye honey.” Then she grabbed her nursing bag and her lunch bag, “Okay, I am ready, let’s go.”

“Bye Mom.” I said, holding my coffee cup with both hands.

As soon as I heard the front door shut, I walked back to my room, unplugged my phone and clicked on Shane’s contact, I decided to call him, hoping that I didn’t wake him up.

“Hey.” Shane’s voice answered after the third ring, “Did you tell Momma Barnum already? That was fast.”

“Yes and I can come visit you!” I said sitting back down at the dining room table after shooing Persephone from my coffee cup. My cat loved sneaking anything that I was drinking or eating.

“She is off work on the seventh so that is wonderful, I just know if Sophia had to drop me off she would just drop me off at the door and leave.” I explained to him.

“I knew she would let you.” Shane laughed, “Sophia sounds rude. She wouldn’t want to watch you take off?” He sounded upset.

I took a sip of my coffee then smiled, “She cares more about her friends then her own family. So our mother’s will meet.” I set my coffee cup down and pulled up my feet up on the chair then I put my pointed chin on my knees, “That will be neat.”

“That will be cool, take pictures of our mother’s meeting each other.” Shane said.

“Will do.” I said to him, then I quivered slightly, “Argh, it is getting cold here.”

“I think visiting me would be good for your tense muscles, I remember you saying that freezing cold weather makes your muscles tense up. Maybe staying in California will be way better for you. Get you away from your family and away from the snow.”

“I know, I am glad that you called while it’s getting colder here.” I said, getting up, making another cup of coffee, “Do you have any plans for when I get there?”

“Yeah, I do. I plan to take you around town, to see the sights, take you to my favorite restaurants and to meet a few of my friends Kate.” Kate was his longest best friend, I recalled, that made me smile, knowing that he was willing to let me meet people that he was very close with.

“Then Drew, he is interested in meeting you. Garret for sure because you two have a weird obsession with Harry Potter and Trisha wants to meet you. Lisa wants to meet you as well.” He finished.

‘Lisa? That doesn’t sound good.’ I thought to myself.

“Trisha wants to meet me?” I asked in udder shock. She was one of my other favorite YouTubers and Shane did a lot of videos with her and I listened to her songs on my music app sometimes, “And Lisa wants to meet me?” I asked in small voice.

“Yeah, I told Trisha about you.” Shane admitted softly, “I told her that you were my best friend that I had online, that we have similar lifestyles, and that I feel like I can tell you anything.” He said, “And sure, Lisa knows that we were close, so when I suggested on having you around for a while, she told me that she wanted to meet you.”

I knew that they were still friends, but they actually talked about me? I bit my lower lip, “I thought she hated me.” I muttered softly.

“Why would you think that?” Shane asked me.

After only weeks of dating Lisa, he had stopped talking to me completely, just like right out of the blue. I tried to reach out to him every so often, just to check in, but whenever I sent him messages or requested a Skype call he would not reply and reject my Skype calls. After only three weeks of no responses I thought if he really wanted to talk to me, that he would reach out to me. But he never did. Weeks turned into months and months turned into years. I finally gave up and thought that he didn’t really want to be my friend and just thought of him as ‘Shane Dawson, the YouTuber’, not ‘Shane Yaw, my friend’ and that broke my heart into a billion pieces.

“Never mind, it’s nothing.” I said bitterly, not really wanting to talk about anything else other than Lisa wanting to meeting me and I mean anything!

I still had no answers on why did what he did and I was too terrified to ask why because I didn’t want to ruin things right away, so I told myself that I would ask him about why he stopped being my friend after a few weeks into my visit.

Bella and Tobias followed me in the living room and Bella, Mom’s black and silver cockapoo laid next to me while Tobias laid on the blanket on the hard floor near the wide window.

Shane must’ve known he poked at a sore subject for me and he changed it, “Are you getting excited on meeting me?”

“I am, very excited and very nervous as hell.” I said then sipped my coffee as I heard the blue SUV pull up in our driveway and a car door shut and I groaned softly.

“I am glad, Jess. I am actually getting excited as well.” Shane said as Sophia walked in the door and kicked off her shoes as the two dogs jumped on her excitedly.

“Get the fuck off of me.” Sophia snapped at them, pushing them off of her, then she glared at me, “Talking to your gay boyfriend again?” She asked as she rolled her eyes.

“Umm, you shouldn’t gay-shame Shane because you are gay.” I cocked my head at her, “So you should keep your damn mouth shut.” I glared back at her, my anger raising slightly, “And you shouldn’t yell at the dogs, they are just excited to see you.” I snapped at her, shaking my head at her, “Honestly, stop yelling at them, you always yell at them, you hardly ever talk to them nicely.”

“Who are you yelling at?” Shane asked me through the phone laughing a little, “And thank you for sticking up for me, you didn’t really need to.”

Sophia walked to her bedroom, “Come on, Tobias.” Then she whistled for him to follow her and he ran to the basement stairs.

“Sophia. She yelled at our dogs while they were jumping on her and no problem, I don’t know why she hates you so much, she used to be obsessed with you for years.” I explained to Shane petting Bella after she jumped next to me and set her head on my lap,

“I gave your number to Momma Yaw so that she could get ahold to you when you get to the airport and tell you where to meet her.” Shane said and I heard him typing on his keyboard, so that meant he was in his office working on videos.

“Okay, sounds good, I wasn’t even thinking of that.” I heard clicking of a mouse or something, so that meant that he was most likely working on editing some videos, “Am I bothering you?” I asked softly, ashamed that I probably was.

“No, of course not.” Shane said, “I can multitask, don’t worry about bugging me. I like talking to you while I work. It makes it go by faster.”

I blushed slightly, “Okay, you are the boss.”

I could tell that he was smiling, “That I am.” I cracked up and nodded.

“Damn straight.” I said after my laughing fit then I sighed, “I need to tell Sophia to bring up my laundry. Hold on, I am putting the phone down for a bit.”

“Okay, I’ll be here when you get back.” Shane told me.

I quickly put the phone face down on the black wooden table near my spot, then stood up and walked to the stairs, “Did you forget what Mom told you to do for me before you waste money with your friends?” I hollered down the stairs, holding the baby gate at the landing, I had a shadow with me. Bella was sitting right next to my left leg.

“NO! I am doing it now.” Sophia yelled back up at me, obviously lying to me.

She didn’t remember, because I was listening carefully while I was talking with Shane and I didn’t hear her moving around downstairs or the noise of the dryer door opening.

“Yeah right, you were sitting on your bed tweeting or some other shit.” I muttered softly as I walked back to the living room with Bella following me, “Come on, pup.”

“What did you mutter?” Sophia yelled up at me.

I ignored her and sat back down on the couch and picked up the phone, “Back.”

“Welcome back.” Shane said, “Can you do stairs? I was wondering if I needed to put your room on the main floor, don’t want you falling.”

“I can do stairs, slowly but they aren’t trouble.” I said, smiling. He was trying to Jessa-proof his house for me, “Thank you for asking though.”

“No problem I just want to be sure before I make up your room.”

“I understand that completely, I have seen your house due to your videos and Snapchat. I know that your staircase has a railing, so I will be alright.” I explained to him, “I’ll just be slow on them, but slow is better than falling off them.” I petted Bella as I spoke.

“True. Okay, if you are sure.” He didn’t sound convinced but that was okay, I understood his fears of me falling while I was there, I even had that same fear but I knew how to not make it true.

Sophia came upstairs with a basket of my laundry and plopped it right next to my bare feet, almost on one if I didn’t move it in time, “There. Now can I get ready or do you have other shit for me to do?”

“Lose your fucking attitude, Mom told you to do this before you got ready and you of course planned on not doing it at all because you are a total selfish bitch.” I snapped at her, not caring that Shane could hear our discussion through the other line.

“Make me, retard.”  She half whispered as she got into my face.

Everyone who really knew me, knew that I absolutely loathed that word and if you ever used it around me that I would get extremely upset. So I knew that she was just pressing my buttons just because I was talking with Shane.

I shook my head sadly, “Shut your fucking mouth, right now.” I raised my eyebrows at her, “I don’t fucking care if I am on the phone. I will slap you silly.”

“You won’t be able to hit me, you are too fucking slow.” Sophia snapped at me.

I heard a noise on the other end of the call, like Shane uttered something but I missed it.

“Try me, bitch, you are poking the bull and you know it. I know why too, it’s all because I am talking to Shane. I think you are jealous. So get away from me or I will smack you.”

“I’m going back downstairs before I say something that I’ll regret later on.” She said as she walked back downstairs.

“Yeah, you do that.” I muttered softly as I comforted Bella for a moment before I started to fold my clothes.

“She honestly pulled attitude with you for doing something for you? What the flying fuck? I only know you strictly online and I know that you can’t do stairs while holding a huge fucking basket of laundry. What is her fucking deal? ” Shane said when it was silent for a few moments.

I smiled as I shook my head, “It is okay, Shane, really. I am so used to it. And we won’t be strictly online friends in a few.”

“You got a point, you are right, but still.” He said seriously, “Does she normally talk to you like that without your mom there with you guys?”

“Yeah, she does. Even with Mom home, she doesn’t stop her half of the time. She just let’s her. That really helps with my low self-esteem.”

“Seriously, I understand that. I might not let you go back home after your visit.” Shane said, “I mean Jesus Christ just hearing her is making me very pissed off that she treats you like shit all because you can’t so some things on your own. How fucking selfish.”

“If Mom dies before I get out on my own or at least live with a friend, I will have to be taken care by her.” I wrinkled my nose, shaking my head, “It’s just not how she treats me. It’s also how spoiled she is. She knows that we have money issues and she always gets two or three make-up boxes in the mail, per month. I checked how much they are each, they are around thirty dollars per box! That is around ninety dollars per month!”

“That is insane! No, I won’t let you live with her, she’d steal your government money and use it for herself.” He said.

“Then who would I live with?” I asked, smiling softly.

“With me. If you wanted after a few weeks.”

I was silent for a few moments, “Shane…I just couldn’t live with you…”

“Why not? We could be roommates, you had to pay rent of course, but it’d be dirt cheap. I’d give you the friends and family discount.”

I smiled faintly as I continued to fold my clothes, “The friends and family discount?”

“Yeah, dummy. You are a friend of mine.” He laughed a little.

‘Maybe seeing Shane will change my life for the better.’