Teach Me To Love Again - Chapter One (Bughead AU)

Summary: Philophobia: The fear of falling in love or emotional attachment.

Riverdale High’s new History teacher, Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third, is prickly, rude, and spends more times hanging out with the kid’s smoking outside than he does in the teacher’s lounge. Betty Cooper, fellow staff member and tutor to his younger sister, is determined not to let him get her down. But when old feelings from high school days start to resurface, it might be hard to ignore the magnetic attraction.

A/N: As promised… here is the first chapter of my collab with @tory-b!! We’re super excited and this is literally our baby so please leave feedback:)


“I hope he’s hot,” Veronica announced, cutting through the previously melancholy atmosphere, “We need some more eye candy at that school.”

Betty let her gaze fall to her vanilla milkshake and had to bite back a smile at the crestfallen expression on Archie’s face as Veronica fantasized about their new colleague. They had worked together at Riverdale High for just over two years - when Veronica moved from New York - and he had been following her around like an adorable puppy ever since. She felt Kevin nudge her foot under the table and she coughed lightly to hid her giggles as he rolled his eyes at her dramatically. Neither Veronica or Archie seemed to notice.

“Don’t get your hopes up V,” Kevin sighed. “He was a professor at NYU and taught Modern American History. If that isn’t code for crazy old man then I don’t know what is.”

“Don’t jinx it Kev, he might be gay” Betty joked.

“Maybe” Kevin mused, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Well maybe I’m looking for a sugar daddy,” Veronica teased, winking at Kevin from across the table.

“V you practically are the town’s sugar daddy,” Betty laughed, earning a grin from her best-friend.

“Alright then, I’m looking for a new pet,” Veronica confessed. “I’ve had my way with almost all the attractive men in Riverdale and I’m bored,” she pouted. Betty noticed Archie scowl and quickly moved to change the subject from her best friend’s romantic endeavors.

“Well all the changes to the curriculum this year has been driving me nuts! I’ve had to create lesson plans for three new novels and Beloved has been removed from the syllabus. I love that book.” The blonde girl sighed, picking at the french fries that she had previously barely touched. She had been working as Riverdale High’s English teacher ever since she graduated from Riverdale University five years ago. Beloved was always her favorite novel in the curriculum; she’d studied it at school herself.

“Don’t get me started,” Kevin grumbled. “The funding for The Arts is beyond a joke this year. How am I supposed to put on Les Misérables with no money? I don’t want it to be that authentic. And yet, Riverdale High’s precious football team appear to be entirely unaffected by the cuts.” Kevin added, eyeing Archie suspiciously. “Tell me your secret Andrews,” he demanded.

“Very true,” Veronica mused, a curious expression on her face. “Spit it out Archikins!”

Archie’s reply was innocent enough, “Weatherbee just likes football I guess. Maybe the new teacher can help me coach the team?” he asked suddenly, determined to get probing questions and eyes off of him.

“Or…” Betty mused, “he could help me re-open The Blue and Gold! I’ve been bugging Weatherbee for years and this might finally be the year he lets me do it. Especially if I have another teacher on my side!” she realised excitedly.

Veronica just rolled her eyes. “Look at all of you with your extra-curricular activities, how adorable!” she said smugly.

Being Riverdale High’s Mathematics teacher, Veronica didn’t have any clubs to run for enthusiastic students. She argued it was because nobody actually liked maths, herself included. Betty always wondered how her best-friend could teach a subject she had no interest in, but Veronica always assured her that it was better than staying in New York where her father was engaged in a criminal court case for fraud, so Betty didn’t ask questions. Besides, Veronica insisted that maths was sexy, and if Archie’s behaviour was anything to go by, she was right.

Betty turned around when she heard the familiar chime of the diner’s welcome bell and noticed an alarming number of her students amble through the door, clearly about to take over the diner in their last night of freedom before the beginning of the school term tomorrow. A couple of them waved at her, but most of them ignored the group of adults sitting in their regular booth, a dooming reminder that the summer was over.

“I think that is our cue to leave,” Kevin observed. “I don’t get paid to supervise teenagers outside of school hours.”


Fast Forward.

I hope this appeases @internallydeceased MWAH - Mod MBD. 

I will find a link to all parts and post them with the request as soon as I get chance to search them all out, thank you lovelies for your patience. 

The knocks came intermittently, but Claire didn’t move to open the door. Twenty-four hours later and Jenny had given up trying to get Claire to come out of the room, leaving her to her own devices.

Jamie hadn’t come up at all.

Claire saw it as a sign. Had he felt any warm feelings towards her he would have certainly followed Jenny up to check that she was alright -surely.

Pulling her robe aside, Claire sat with her back to the mirror. Her cheeks were pinked, her nose still red from crying but she’d ceased her endless sobbing, at least for the moment. Looking at her spine she traced the angry red welts as the snaked down and under the furry material of her dressing gown with her eyes.

Foolish, that’s what she had been. Jamie and Jenny had been her constants in a confusing and new world. Claire had let those small moments that she’d had with Jamie build in her mind but looking at her healing injuries now she could see what she hadn’t before.

How could anybody love her like this?

Running her fingers over the tops of her shoulders, Claire felt the ruptures, over the scabs that were now just thin and twisty but deeply gouged into her flesh. She was forever scarred. Although she knew that it didn’t mean a whole lot in this time, where she was from it was the mark of a criminal. She’d already seen a couple of responses, peoples reactions as they stared in horror and then walked away.

Admittedly, there hadn’t been many opportunities for her to have her top low enough for members of the public to see, but on occasion her shirt would slip as she was at work in Ray’s shop and customers would catch a glimpse of the scars.

“Claire,” Jenny whispered through the door once more, her heart in her mouth as she tried for the last time to get Claire to come out. The door had been locked for nearly two days and though she had access to water, she must be starving by now. “Are ye going to come to tea? It’s my last night as a Fraser, it would only be you and I…?”

“No, thank you Jenny,” Claire replied, biting her lip and closing her eyes as she tried to quell the anguish that was filling her once more. She did not want to start crying again, not after it had taken her so long to stop the first time. But the request had tugged at her heart strings and she felt terrible that she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave.

“But ye have to come to the wedding lass?” Jenny questioned, unsure anymore as to whether she actually would or not.

Hiding her head in her knees as she turned herself fully away from the mirror now, Claire shook as she tried to answer Jenny. At this moment in time she didn’t want to see anyone at all. But how could she not attend? Not when Jenny had pulled out all the stops to have an extra meal added at such short notice.

“Just not today, Jenny, please…” she begged waiting until the footsteps had disappeared before darting from the dressing table and crawling back into bed again. The duvet still smelled faintly of her last long sleep, the stench of her own body clinging to the fibres but Claire couldn’t bring herself to care too much. She hadn’t bathed since she’d locked herself in the guest suite but then again, she hadn’t needed to.

Dozing on and off, Claire lost another day to her increasing melancholia and by the time the morning of the wedding came around, she had built her internal walls so high that not even Jenny could coax her from the bedroom.

Having spent a good ten minutes with Fiona by her side, Jenny tried everything she could to get Claire to join them in their celebrations downstairs. Cursing her brother’s grand plans, Jenny gave in and went to call the only other person she knew who might have significant influence over Claire.

Ray stood with his forehead broached against the hardwood of the bedroom, he smiled a sad smile, his lips lifting only slightly as he knocked quietly. “Claire, ma cherie? Are you alright in there. Jenny says you haven’t eaten for two days. They’re all worried about you, lassie.”

He heard the door lock click and moved back a little so that she could open it for him. There had been no objections, no talking through the door at him. Claire had simply obeyed his request, her hunger imposed fatigue had taken control of her body and mind. Since Ray’s confession to Claire, she had felt this increasing bond with the man who’d somehow saved her life and his soft French lilt had broken down the barriers she’d carefully constructed around her.

Sneaking through the small gap, Ray entered the small suite and closed the door behind him. It took him a moment, but when he first caught a glimpse of a very bedraggled Claire the breath caught in his throat.

“Claire, lass,’ he choked out the shock settling in his bones as he reached a shaky hand forwards, “you must cease this now, come out and have a decent meal, yes?”

Biting the inside of her cheek to stop the tears forming, Claire swallowed back the bile that had begun to rise along her throat. “Is it always this hard?” She whispered, her hands fiddling nervously with the hem of her oversized jumper.

“Is what hard?” Raymond questioned, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. He knew all of the story having heard it from a very apologetic Jenny only an hour or so before but he hadn’t wanted to make assumptions without hearing from Claire first. Jumping in his car and whizzing over to Lallybroch, he’d suspended any thoughts on the matter and having seen her in such a state, he hadn’t thought about it since.

“This,” she said, her left hand resting softly over her heart as she spoke, “…love.”

— — —

Snaking her way through the crush of bodies, Claire snuck into the elaborate reception hall, along the wall and into the throng of people gathered around the buffet. Raymond had sat patiently and listened to her side of the story before hustling her into the bathroom to clean herself up. Now, suitably dressed and scrubbed, Claire tried her best to blend in with the wedding guests.

She had missed the entire ceremony and the lunchtime meal, but Ray had made it incredibly clear; she couldn’t spend her time hiding away from either Jenny or Jamie. The longer she left it, the harder it would be - and he had been right, of course. But now she was here, trussed up in the evening gown Jenny had lent her for the occasion, Claire couldn’t help but feel even more out of place.

“Ye shouldna push your way into a queue, you know, Claire,” Jamie whispered, his warm breath fanning over the exposed expanse of her neck as she froze in place.

Claire had been so panicked, her thoughts blurred as she’d tried to stealthily enter and join in with the wedding party as sneakily as possible that she hadn’t noticed Jamie’s eyes upon her. Instead of avoiding him, he’d clocked her the moment she’d arrived and had made sure to be out of sight until she’d let her guard down enough for him to get close.

Claire’s heart was beating a forceful thrum in her chest as she glanced over her shoulder, her face a nice vibrant red as she looked up at him from under her lashes. “S-sorry,” she stuttered, her mouth going completely dry as words failed her. She felt like a blithering idiot as she stood in his shadow, the music blasting around them as the party continued unawares.

“Will ye dance with me, Claire?” Jamie asked, his tone hopeful as he rested his hand lightly on her elbow, hoping to guide her decision with a brief touch.

“I don’t think I can…” she returned. Fear gripped her as she recalled dances she’d been invited to in the past.

“Och,” he said, “you can. It’s all in the leading. I promise I willna steer ye wrong.”

Nodding, Claire turned, letting her arm slide towards her him, allowing Jamie to take her hand in his and tug her gently towards the partially empty dance floor. The music changed as they were moving, sliding effortlessly from a more jaunty rock and roll tune into something more delicate. Claire blinked slowly as Jamie took her in his arms, pulling her body flush with his as they moved with refined ease in a small circle.

“Did you truly cook for me, Claire?” He asked when he had her safely cocooned against his chest. He felt her fingers tighten around his but she made no move to run away. Guided by his movements, she swayed, his bicep neatly holding the majority of her weight as her ribs vibrated with the intensity of her heartbeat.

Claire didn’t want to think about her failed romantic meal and she hid her head, trying desperately to avoid the loaded question.

“Tell me, aye?” He said, his voice a mere whisper in her ear as they danced on the spot now.

Claire nodded, her mouth too dry to even consider answering out loud…again.

Her ears pricked at the sound of his reply, but it had been quiet and in Gaelic. She couldn’t pick up enough of the words to understand what he’d said, but the word ‘gràdh’ made her chest burn with desire. The wounds on her back forgotten, his endearment sent a pulse of desire shooting through her and she (unconsciously) rolled her hips against him as she panted out an uneven breath.

“Claire,” he sighed, the subtle keen in his tone drawing her head upwards as she squeezed her eyes shut before opening them fully. Looking at him properly for the first time in days, Claire saw the desolation that lay behind his sea-blue irises. She could see the bags around his eyes and the slight blurred redness that now marred his otherwise perfect stare.

She gasped lowly under her breath as she swallowed. Maybe it had been exacerbated in her imagination, but it didn’t seem as if he’d had much rest in the last few days either; mental or physical.

“Yes,” she answered a beat later, her lips barely moving as she tilted her chin further upwards.

Jamie leaned his head to one side, his eyes half closing as he drank in every inch of her.

“May I kiss you, please?” He asked politely.

“Oh,” she returned, pleasantly surprised at his genteel approach.

“Because I think that I’m falling for you and I dinna wish to wonder what ye taste like any longer. Please, Claire, kiss me,” he said, moisture gathering on his lower lip as he spoke.

“You…like me?” Claire replied, shocked. After all, she hadn’t suspected he had feelings in return.

“Aye, Claire,” he said, “I believe I do. And maybe it’s more than like, but I canna ken for sure until…”

“Yes,” Claire broke in, her whole body aching to meet passionately with his, “yes, you can kiss me, Jamie,” she finished, her hands trembling now with some force as his grip intensified.

Now he really was keeping her upright.

Not wanting to waste another moment, Jamie licked his lips languorously, his tongue peeking out for just a second as he dipped his head as Claire tilted hers towards him.

The feel of his stubble against her chin was electrifying. That was her first thought as Jamie’s lips pressed delicately against her own. The second was that he tasted like whisky and a fine summer’s harvest. Grass scents lingered on her tongue as Jamie slid his gently into her open mouth. It was divine. Soft and damp, warm and fresh, soft yet punishing as the feelings she’d been beginning to experience before crashed over her like surf on a sandy beach. Claire felt as if she might drown as their kiss seemed to go on forever. She couldn’t even recall whether she’d taken a breath since they’d begun - but nor could she bring herself to care.

Slowly but surely, Jamie pulled away, his hand (his fingers partially buried in her hair whilst his palm rested perfectly along her jawline) twitched as he forced himself to end their embrace.

“Christ, yer beautiful,” he murmured almost to himself. The ringing in his ears intensified as he pulled himself out of the trance she’d imposed upon him with her ethereal beauty.

“…you don’t care about my back, about my past?” She said, worry gurgling in her gut as she spoke.

“About yer back?” He said. “No, of course not. Had I kent yer feelings for me, Claire, I wouldna have lingered in town that night, trust me.”

“You would have come?”

“Ach, aye.” Jamie chuckled, extinguishing the anguish that had overcome Claire in the days following her failed date. “I wouldna have missed it for the world, mo nighean donn.”

Hector’s death

okay full disclosure this text post is long and most of it will under the cut but the tldr; is that Earnesto de la cruz is a psychopath and Hectors death is fucked and take this with a grain of salt I just like true crime podcasts and buzzfeed unsolved. I literally ran this through Grammarly.

#tw for death, just generally a bad tone but I promise I’m not trying to make this really dark I just want Answers Lee Unkrich…

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I Loved You In Secret

Request: Anonymous:  Hi lovely! Could you maybe do 63 and 49 with Draco? Thnxxx 💕💕

#63: “I thought you loved her.”

#49: “We’re just friends.”

Summary: In which they are secretly dating and the reader misunderstands Draco’s intentions with her, leading her to expose their secret in the most shocking way possible.

Warnings: Implied smut. Swearing.

Word Count: 1,777

Originally posted by smiledraco

A smile tugged at your face at the sound of laughter from the Slytherin table. You try your hardest to muffle it, not wanting anyone to question why you were smiling at nothing for no reason.

The laughter didn’t stop, and you risked a glance behind you. Draco’s face was red with mirth, laughing at something Blaise had said. Pansy sat next to him, hand on his arm. He didn’t seem to notice, but you did. Frowning, you turned back. Pansy always wanted an excuse to touch him. It irked you. But you couldn’t do anything about it.

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Ego Christmas Day 15 (Christmas Movies): Love Actually is All Around

( @dorkstache @malfoviing @blue-greenstylinson @emo-salt @immortalpoptart )

No one could decide on a movie to watch. The Jim twins wanted Home Alone, but they were arguing between themselves over whether it should be the first or the second. Viv and Mike were, unsurprisingly, campaigning for Die Hard.

“Die Hard’s not a Christmas movie,” Doc said.

“Yes it is,” Viv argued.

“It takes place on Christmas Eve,” Mike added, “so, Christmas movie.”

“The Host respects Mike’s opinion, but he believes we should watch A Christmas Carol.”

“No way, Hosty,” Wilford said, waving his hands for emphasis, “we have to watch A Christmas Story!”

“What about Rudolph?” Oliver suggested.

“Ah yes, differentiation from the norm will be punished unless it is exploitable, a wonderful Christmas message,” Blue said harshly.

“What’s your idea then?”

“It’s a Wonderful Life,” Green piped up.

“No way,” Bing said, sprawled on the couch, “that [beep]’s way too depressing. What we should really watch is Christmas Vacation.”

The arguing continued in this manner for several minutes, no one willing to even attempt a compromise.

Then, a harsh ringing split the air, and everyone in the room fell silent. Dark stood in the doorway, aura flaring.

“The egos watched as Dark walked over to the television and put a movie on. No one was willing to dispute his choice,” Host’s quiet narration was the only other sound in the room.

Dark sat down beside Wilford just as Love Actually began playing on the TV.

“Getting soft, eh, Dark?” Wilford teased.

“Shut the hell up,” Dark said, but he was somehow less intimidating with Wilford’s arm wrapped around his shoulders.

As the movie played on, the others were blissfully quiet. There was something in it for all of them to enjoy, whether it be funny, emotional, or sappy. Wilford ignored how Dark glanced at him from the corner of his eye whenever there was a scene about Harry and his not-quite-affair.

Towards the end of the movie, most everyone had drifted off to sleep. When the confrontation between Harry and his wife occurred, Dark hid his face against Wilford’s shoulder, his breath warm against his neck. Wilford interlaced his hand with Dark’s, and he pretended not to notice as the other ego drew in a shuddering breath.

Something about this was familiar to him.

By the time the movie ended, Dark had drifted off to sleep, his face still buried in the crook of Wilford’s neck. Wilford kissed the top of his head, and Dark stirred, ever so slightly.

“Merry Christmas, William,” he mumbled.

In the layered distortion of Dark’s voice, Wil could almost make out the echoes of the past.

Something about this was familiar to him.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

“Run-In” - Part 6

Genre: Mostly Smut with a tiny bit of Angst

Word Count: 13,897

A/N: Here we are y’all. Halfway done!.. Thank you so much for all the love this series is getting and I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Happy Readings!!^^

Theme Song for this Chapter: “Charlie Puth- Attention” and “EDEN- drugs”

Yoongi laid in bed with one hand behind his head and the other held his phone, tapping it against his chin. His eyes scanned the ceiling though his mind was elsewhere. When his mind wasn’t on his work, it was always seemed to wander to you. It has been a little over three months since he last saw and spoke to you. And he figured that you wouldn’t want to see him after the last encounter. Yoongi smiled to himself. After everything he did, he didn’t regret a thing.

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Folks write Destiny like super serious when yall know the truth of the matter.

Zavala looked over the City, his hands leaning on the railing. He had always been seen as a pillar for Guardians and Civilians alike as strong as the walls he built, but since the Red War he had been shaken. He hid it behind a stoic mask, but as he stood there, he grasped the rail, asking the walls to gift him back some of that strength, just for now. Until he could find his again.

At the approach of footsteps he turned, transferring his hands to clasp behind his back. “Guardian, what news-“

The Guardian passed by Zavala as if he wasn’t there, jumping onto the rail behind him. Without turning Zavala heard a camera materialise and he hid a sigh. Their ‘selfie’ done, the Guardian backflipped off the tower with a whoop of “Thanks Dad!”

The Titan Vanguard turned back to the City.

Please Walls.

Grant. Me. Strength.

The Falcon’s Cockpit

(Reylo one-shot fanfic)

It starts with a tickle. A tingling tickle of pressure at the base of her neck, spreading down her spine like a warm and familiar heat only to pool and cool in her gut. It happens every time they meet like this. Each one’s presence passing over the void of empty space to enter each other’s thoughts and dreams.

She opened her eyes to still silence. Rising from her bed she can hear no sound from the ship around her. No engines, nor wookie stomping about. No droids or porgs chittering or cooing as they nestle their young.

Silence. Complete silence.

Slipping out of her bunk she left her private space, that familial feeling spreading over her body like a blanket not quite thick enough to keep the chill completely off while her bare feet padded silently towards the cockpit.

He’s there. Bent over the controls, dressed in the usual black tunic, pants, boots and gloves, running his fingers over various dials and switches with familial ease. She can spot just the hint’s breath of a smile on the crook of his lips. “I see you’ve been running the hyper drive a lot recently.”

She doesn’t respond, waiting to see where he goes with this. Curious as to where he thinks they’ve parked for the night.

“You should rotate the inverters soon or you’ll end up burning the coils out. Especially the left engine’s. It was always the most finicky.” His words have a tone of absentmindedness with an aftertaste of bitter resentment. He hates this ship. He knows it. She knows it.

“Why are you here?” Her question is more of a demand, those brown eyes narrowed at his back, watching him carefully. She notes the absence of his usual saber hilt at his side. He’s come unarmed for once. Even in the visions they share it’s a rarity.

“You’re the one who brought me here. I figured you’d tell me.” He replied flatly, finally turning to look at her with those empty black eyes. He looks at her, up and down her form still dressed in her usual light clothing. Her usual over coverings are missing, leaving her in just the thin tunic and sand-colored pants of the norm. But she too is unarmed. It just makes that cold pool in her belly turn to ice. She rubs her arms to keep the feeling at bay. They stand like this briefly, just watching each other before he flops himself down in the cockpit.

His father’s seat.

Kicking his feet up on the panel’s edge in front of him he leans back, weaving his fingers together over his middle in a far too relaxed position, so much of that ebony hair falling in his face. She stepped up to his side, to keep an eye on him but he just looks back at her, as if waiting, daring her to speak.

“I was asleep.” She told him simply, staring down at his dark robed form. “This is a dream.”

He just shrugs, looking very much like his father in that moment. He lifted a hand to reach for her arm, gently stroking a gloved finger’s edge along her wrist. The single touch sending bolts of sensation throughout her body. “I thought we agreed no more dream meetings. They get too…personal.”

“You think I wanted this?” She asked, shifting her arm away from his fingers, but the damage is done. The feeling now lingers, rippling over her skin like a pebble dropped in still water, damaging her calm.

“Maybe. To bring me here?” He looked around at the familial cockpit. “Probably your psyche’s idea of a punishment for last time.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, thinking back to their last meeting. An argument. The same argument they’d been having since this whole thing started. Her tone is short when she speaks. “You kissed me.”

“I did.” He responded, equally as short.

“And I punched you. In the nose.”

“You did.” He touched his nose, perhaps unconsciously. “It bled too.”

“That should have been punishment enough.” It was an honest thought. She knew he could sense her honesty. There were so few secrets between them when they were connected like this.

He reached for her again, this time wrapping a hand around her wrist, lightly, wantingly. She had noticed how much he liked to touch her when they were together. The more they came to meet, the closer he would come to her, invading her personal space. The more he tried to touch her in some fashion. Perhaps that’s why he’d done it. Why he’d kissed her in their last meeting. There’d been no warning, no signal. He’d simply moved his head to hers and broken through a barrier she’d never thought he’d cross.

The feeling still moved in her, tied to the memory as he’d towered over her in his own dream, tried to wrap his arms around her to keep her pulled close. The idea had instead backfired and spooked her, causing her to push away from the delicious feeling of his lips warm and solid on her own and react with a solid knock to his nose with her fist. She’d shut herself off from him for a while after that. She’d run away.

But here he was again, rubbing soft circles in the small of her wrist with his thumb, watching his fingers move. He looked up at her, holding her gaze. She could feel it again. That pull. That WANT.

When she tried to remove her hand again he held firm, instead pulling her to sit on his lap, leaned back in the father’s seat a bit more to make room for the extra person in such a limited space. Her back pressed to his front, she could feel the heat of his body through his black tunic, through her own tan one radiating all the way to her bones. His hands moved up her arms, one wrapping fingers around her neck ever so lightly; not to strangle as he’d once thought of doing but to turn her head so his breath could move over the skin of her collarbone.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked in a whisper, her eyes fluttering closed as he breathed in her scent, letting him wrap his arms around her like a snake flexing its tight coils. Her own fingers traced over his hands, one taking her wrist again and bringing it to his lips to kiss the hammering pulse beating against such tender flesh.

“Why are you letting me?” He rebuttled. She could see him staring at her face intently out of the corner of her eyes. That same look; wanting, practically begging for her to be with him. A face he gave only to her and only when they were alone like this.

She turned in her seat on his lap to look at him; hold his gaze until the seconds turned to millennia and even the breath in their lungs failed to make a sound. Her voice came out in a whisper. “I don’t know.”

“I do.” He took a hand to the edge of her chin and tipped it up just a fraction, leaning forward to kiss her. It was the same feeling as before. Same electricity shook through her like liquid fire, same clamoring desire. She could see it deep in his mind, the mental images flowing into her of them both naked and moving together. He’d been dreaming of her like that for a while now, she could tell. She could feel the physical desire melting inside to puddle deep between her thighs, making her squirm in his lap. And as much as she hated to admit it; deep, deep down in the darkness that hid in her soul…she wanted it too.

It sang to her a sweet song. His dark always sang to her just as her light spoke sweet nothings to him. A whispered conversation they’d been having since the moment they’d met in the woods not so long ago, yet it felt like ions in the past. Her dark eyes held his own darker ones, their lips finally parting as breath came in and out in heavy gasps.

She was facing him now, knees wedged on either side of his lap in that surprisingly comfortable cockpit seat and she stared into his wanting eyes. Her fingers gripped at his black tunic, knuckles blazing white against such dark fabric while his own pressed firmly on her backside for support.

Could she give in to such temptation?



Her name. It was all he said. It was all he needed to say.

She kissed him, firmly, needingly and that stopped any more words from coming out of his mouth.  She pulled at his tunic, reaching down to fumble numbly at his belt while his own nimble fingers tugged her much looser tunic free, letting it give and shift away from her shoulders, down the edges of her arms in a soft caress to expose her small breasts to his view. She watched him stare at them for a brief moment, pulling away to lean back in the chair just taking in the view. And when it came close to the edge of awkwardness he pulled her forward with his strong arms and brought a passionate kiss to her nipple that nearly had her singing.

Her back arched, her eyes closed, and the only sound was a sharp inhale followed by a shaky exhale through parted lips. Why did this feel so good? Why did his touch, being in his arms like this bring such pleasure when every synapse in her brain told her how wrong this was? She should push him away, take a step back. Hell she should run! Fight! But his mouth found her other nipple the warning feel on deaf ears.

Nimble fingers finally pulled his belt loose, practically twitching as they found a growing bulge hiding underneath still trapped behind dark cloth. Air hissed past gritted teeth as her warm palm ran over that apex and he looked up at her, eyebrows narrowing at such a surge of confidence that splashed over her face along with a sultry little smile. He could feel the amusement through their bond along with that tingle of tentativeness. He’d seen her memories of Jakku while she slept, he knew she wasn’t inexperienced in the physical sense but still a hint of nervous uneasiness lingered in the back of her eyes. And every time it started to take control he moved his hands, used his mouth, touching just the right about of skin to lull her back into want that equaled his own.

One hand slipped lower to grip at her thigh, the tip of his gloved thumb reaching between her spread legs to press in just the right spot to elect a gasp of surprise from her despite the limiting fabric. He could sense her elation at the jolt of electricity connected to that spot and he moved his finger again, an amused smirk pulling over his face. Despite the pleasure it seemed to wake her up, pull her from him and she tried to lean away but he held fast with a hard palm to her lower back, fingers spread to touch as much of her as possible. “Don’t…”

His voice was a beg. She had not heard such tone from him since he’d pleaded for her to join him. They stilled, slipping back into silence as she looked down into those ebony pools. The beast of a man watched her back, raising the hand on her leg to her face, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and holding her face with a gentleness she was unaware of.

“Don’t…” He repeated, his voice a breath softer. “Please.”

She looked in him, past the monster that came to her in her nightmares, past all the lust for power, the hate for everything she stood for, sinking deeper into his inner thoughts as far as he would let her until she was swimming in darkness. He was there in that darkness, his pale skin seeming to be the only light in the place. He reached for her there just as he did for her now, wanting to wrap himself up in her light and never let it go with a possessiveness she’d seen only once before: in the moment she’d seen pass between Han and Leia the last time they ever spoke. A moment…of love.

It shocked her, pulled her out of that darkness, back into her body as her eyes searched his own. “Do you…do you love me?”

It was a question he wasn’t expecting, that much was obvious. It put his senses on alert and his walls started to slam shut again but he hesitated. Looking over her face, he hesitated some more. “I don’t know.”

An honest answer if there ever was one. The very idea brought out waves of confusion from them both as they sat like that in the falcon’s cockpit. Everything felt a mess, a swirl of fear, anger, lust, confusion, want, need, even forgiveness. He looked at her, she looked at him.

“I don’t think I could ever love you.” She told him, her anger at his actions, his character flashing through him like lashes, leaving hard red welts that stung as deep as any whip. There was too much of him to hate, too much darkness in his soul to ever love the man behind the monster.

His eyes hardened, his expression sinking into its usual cold distain, a familial sigh from months of passing through each other’s thoughts like ships in the night. He pulled her closer, until she was flush against his front. He could feel those soft little breast of hers rubbing against the outside of his tunic and the want, the desire, came back like a tide sweeping back in. “I’m not asking you to.”

Lips met lips again, his kiss demanding and pushing that wave of lust into her hard until it sat in her belly like a fire, burning, radiating out. He pulled away just a bit to speak. “You know what I want. I know you want it too. So take it already. It’s just a dream after all. No one ever has to know.”

Her small palms lay flat on his chest, holding her up while his own bigger ones touched at skin wherever they could find it. He was right. He wasn’t asking for love. He’d never asked for something so impossible of her. Possession, yes. Lust, that much was obvious from the bulge rubbing against the apex of her thighs, but could she take it? And at what cost to herself? He was offering a simple answer to a simple problem. She felt no resistance of any kind on his part but instead encouragement. It was a dream. No one ever had to know. Could they truly be held responsible for what happens in a dream?

She looked at him. That fire in her belly erupting into an inferno.

Damn the consequences!

Taking each side of his long face in her hands she kissed him, poured his own passion and lust back into him. They melded together like oil and water being sloshed together, moving as one but never quite melding completely. Hands moved in flurries, cloth tore and fell to the ground on either side of the cockpit chair. She pulled his tunic over his head and licked at his neck, nipping her sharp little teeth at his collarbone until red marks started to appear. Gloves came off and warm hands practically wrenched her pants from her skin, fingers dancing over, inching lower, closer until they sunk in deep, just in the right spot and slicked with liquid heat that had he mewling in his arms. Her hips rocked against him in tandem, all but whimpering every time he stilled or slowed. Her brows lowered, nose scrunched in anger when he stopped and pulled away, which amused him greatly. Flicking his thumb over that perfect little nub just right earning him fingernails digging into his shoulders and a soft swear in the language of Jakku. He leaned up and kissed her chin and along her jawline, his voice teasing in her ear. “Such a horny little scavenger you are. If you want me that bad, do it yourself.”

Her response came as a hiss through gritted teeth, a primal snarl of frustration and embarrassment. He leaned the chair back until it was nearly flat, watching her naked form sitting on top of him with only a zipper keeping her from her carnal goal. It took but a flip of her wrist to pull him free from such confines, surprisingly practiced fingers stroking at just the right angle to get him fully erect and achingly hard. She looked at him and paused, letting go of her prize to lick her way up his abdomen to his lips, rubbing her body over him like a wiggling, weighted blanket. Her dark hair came to just before his nose, filling it with the scent of soap and sun as she sucked on the crook of his neck hard enough to leave an angry red welt complete with teeth indents. When she was finished she pulled away with a loud pop of suction, making a sight of licking her lips before sitting back up and returning to her “handy” work between his legs. She watched him touch at it lightly, feeling how his own pulse pounded up against the tips of his fingers. He could sense a stand of pride, almost possession coming from her.

She’d left her mark on him for everyone to see.

There were no words, only a gasp when she raised herself up and a sigh as she sank down on him and the rush of blood pulsing in their ears as two hearts beat as one. She moved, slowly at first, holding his eyes with her own as her speed and strength increased. His hands went to her hips, guiding without words. Pleasure moved with them, feelings of want, desire, confusion, love, hate, fury, and every other thing that had ever passed between them rolling back and forth between them like a pendulum. It felt almost like a dance; a carnal dance of fingers and lips, hips and tongues, teeth and claws. Primal and wanting, yet soft and delicate. His hands moved up to cup her breasts, each fitting almost perfectly in his large palms and she arched her back in kind, moaning his name as a flush came over her cheeks.

“Ben…” She whispered. In all the time they’d been connected like this, together despite the cross of time and space, she’d never stopped calling him that. She was the only one who did anymore, and she was the only one he’d let say it. The only voice that mattered anymore. The only person who mattered.

He could feel her pleasure growing, her brink drawing near. He could see it on her face, in her eyes, the way her fingers twitched as they ran over his chest, through the pulse in her palms. He watched her arch and grind over him, panting, covered in a sheen of sweat like some sexual goddess. “Look at me.”

She looked down at him, licking her dry lips wet as she moved faster on him. He took her hands in her own, lacing his fingers with her own so the palms flattened against one another to feel her pulse beating against them. She knew what he wanted. He wanted to see it, that moment she peaked because of him, that blink in time when she finally gave in to everything she’d been denying herself since the moment their fingers touched in the hut on Luke’s hideaway planet. In that brief moment she tried to resist, hold it back with some strand of dignity but he wouldn’t let her.

He sat up, wrapping her up in his embrace and kissing her as if to swallow her alive with his passion, filling her back up with lust; his lust, THEIR lust, and want until everything came to a glorious peak of pleasure. She stilled in his arms, gripping to him as if he was the last lifeline in this or any other galaxy, and whimpered against his lips. He pulled away, just enough to look her in the eyes, to see that moment fill her all the way to her very soul. “Now, you are mine. Now until forever.”

He wrapped her up in his arms and kissed away any words she might have had to resist him, letting loose from whatever cage he’d had his own passions hidden in and ground his own pleasure deep into her body. She closed her eyes, melting into his arms as he held the back of her head with one hand, her hips with the other, wrapping her arms around his neck. She tangled her hands in his dark hair, something she’d secretly wanted to do for a long time, and breathed against his lips. “Ben…”

Her voice just made him increase the pace, moving, thrusting, taking all he’d ever wanted and then some while she chanted his name like a mantra over and over. He hated that name, despised that name, but in this instance if acted almost like an aphrodisiac and spurned him on: harder, deeper, until she was almost screaming it. When he finally came he bit her, hard and square on the shoulder, a mirroring mark to the one she’d given him as their spirits melded: light and dark becoming a swirl of grey.

They stayed like that, his mouth finally releasing its seal on her skin to look her in the eyes, feel her heavy breathing blow over her face, his doing the same in kind before kissing each other deeply, almost deep enough to start everything all over again. But she pulled away, looking up into his eyes and pressing her forehead to his. “We can’t do this ever again.”

He looked down at her, noting how she refused to look at him for the briefest of moments. He knew she was lying. She knew it too, but it was something that had to be said in order to save face. His eyes narrowed and he tipped her chin with his fingers to make her look at him again, naked and vulnerable in his arms in every sense of the word. “I will never love you.”

Was it the truth? She couldn’t tell as she could feel him closing himself up from her again, closing the doors to her inner self from him as well. The barriers were back up, the truce was over and war for his soul was back on again. She kissed him, one last time, softly and sweetly, before he completely pulled away from her, leaving them standing in that familiar darkness, clothed again and on either side of the void between them. “There’s still light in you Ben.”

“And there’s dark in you Rey.” He replied before turning and disappearing into the darkness leaving her alone in their connection. She opened her eyes, this time to the noises of the ship: the hum of an engine, Chewie growling and BB-8 whistling a chat with R2. She watched a porg waddle its way across her bunkroom floor and sat up, startling a squawk from it and a flap of its penguin-like wings. She could see him, in his room on some far away destroyer, cleaning his lightsaber with his back to her. He was shirtless as he liked to be when in his own private quarters, his hair still slightly damp from some recent shower yet his skin marred by angry nail marks. When he turned to grab something she could see the bright red mark on the side of his neck.

Her mark, complete with teeth indents.

He knew she was watching but he refused to acknowledge her, his walls to high up to even hear her should she speak. With a sigh she pushed the image away, rising from her bunk to start the day with a quick look over in the fresher mirror to spot her own mark from him on her shoulder and tucking it under her shirt more carefully to avoid inquiry by prying eyes.

She went to the falcon’s cockpit and sat in the main chair, its seat still warm and still smelling like him. Chewie joined her shortly, having launched the ship from their hiding spot and set their course for the nearest resistance base. He sniffed the air and gave her a look but said nothing, much to the wookie’s credit, grumbling something about jumping to lightspeed.

“No, not yet.” She said simply, flipping the ship off of autopilot and taking the helm. “But we should probably rotate the inverters soon. Otherwise we’ll end up burning the coils out. Especially on the left engine. It’s seems a bit finicky.”


*AN: Saw the Last Jedi on premiere night and this has been rattling around in my head ever since. Hope you enjoy! Mwuahahahahahaha!!!!

This is also on my Archive your own account. So I’m not stealing. XP


💀 B A D  L U C K ! 💀

(P.S. the lights kindasorta flash to the beat of Wonderland Round 3 every other loopヽ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ノ)

[Here There Be Gerblins: x]
[Murder on the Rockport Limited: x]
[Petals to the Metal: x]
[The Crystal Kingdom: x]
[The Eleventh Hour: x]
[Lunar Interlude V: x]


For all I know
The best is over and the worst is yet to come
Is it enough?
To keep on hoping when the rest have given up?