#junikicker

You had been at the gala for approximately an hour and a half. Skye had done a great job on finding out about the event Ian Quinn was supposedly attending. S.H.I.E.L.D. had been monitoring him for quite a while now as he made what seemed to be one questionable purchase after another. At this gala, there was supposed to be a weapon up for auction, one that Quinn was evidently interested in.

“I’ve been made. Suspect’s moving your way now, Y/l/n, Hill.” Agent May’s voice sounded in your ear. “Copy.” You replied, looking around the room filled with people.

You set eyes on Quinn as he entered the large room. The place itself was probably one of the most fancy places you had seen. High ceilings and chandeliers. It was small castle in Switzerland and you were currently in the ballroom, sipping on a glass of neat whiskey. The scene seemed more familiar than you’d like to admit, as you actually grew up in a household somewhat similar. Etiquette lessons and dancing classes were on your schedule every day for the first fifteen years of your life.

You looked across the room to see where Maria was standing, leaning against a wall, talking to someone.

“The auction is over, we have four parties leaving already.” Fitz’ Scottish accent now sounded in your ear loud and clear. “Seems like Quinn is staying for some fun.” You mumbled, watching as he started flirting with a woman and offer her a dance. Maria seemed to have seen it as well as she looked at you, nodding slightly.

You emptied the rest of your drink, taking a large swig, before handing the empty glass to a waiter. You strolled over to where Maria was still talking to a tall man, clad in a black tuxedo. “Sorry, may I borrow this one?” You asked, approaching the two of them, wrapping an arm around Maria’s waist. “Go ‘head.” The man smiled, leaving the pair of you.

“May I have this dance, Commander?” You asked her and she rolled her eyes, accepting nonetheless. “Skye? Can we get a name on the woman he’s with?” You asked as you led Maria to the dance floor. - “Already on it.” Came the reply seconds later.

Maria was wearing a black dress that accentuated her body perfectly. Her heels matched in color, her icy blue eyes standing out more that ever. Oh, how you were a sucker for her eyes.

You and Maria had been flirting ever since you first worked together. It was sort of like an inside joke between the two of you, whenever you encountered an agent that was confused as to what your relationship was exactly. Truth was, Maria was your boss. She was probably almost everyone’s boss at S.H.I.E.L.D., regarding the fact that she was Fury’s second-in-command. But her relationship with you had always been different.

The flirting had always been natural, never forced. May had, more than once, suspected the two of you being in a relationship but you knew better than to actually engage in one. It was against protocol. You couldn’t risk feelings getting in the way of missions. Not in your field, anyway. However, that didn’t exactly help your catching feelings for her.

“You sure do clean up nice, Hill.” You complimented as you placed a hand on her waist, while she placed one of hers on your shoulder. “I could say the same to you.” She effortlessly replied as you started swaying your bodies to the ballroom-like music.

“Cameras say he’s got the device with one of his handymen. Blonde guy at the bar. Second on the left.” Fitz’ voice echoed through your ears again. “Left pocket.” He added. “Great, now how’re we supposed to get that one?” You asked as the music changed to a waltz.

You immediately adapted your posture, something that Maria had noticed on an instant, panic flashing in her eyes. “Y/n, I do not know how to fucking waltz.” She whispered through almost-gritted teeth. You smiled at her, bemused. “Straighten up, just follow my lead.” You advised her, before starting to maneuver the two of you across the dance floor. “Y/n, why didn’t we know you could dance?!” Simmons’ voice was now in your ears. “Guess all the dance classes my parents made me do finally come to good use.” You vaguely explained.

“Try and not step on my feet.” You chuckled as you felt the tip of Maria’s toes on yours. “Trust me, I’m trying.” She deadpanned.

“I’ll try my luck with the guy at the bar.” Maria said, once the music had faded and the two of you left the dance floor. “Try and lure him into the corridor on your six. Only for staff use. You should be undisturbed.” Skye’s voice on the comms. - “Copy”, Maria’s reply.

You made sure no one saw you as you entered said corridor, in order to prepare the lock on the door so it couldn’t be opened form the outside, once Maria and the guy went in.

Just as you hid behind a supply closet about fifteen meters from the door, Maria and the guy entered. There was a glint in his eyes that you didn’t like as you watched as she trapped him against the wall. He smirked down at her. “So?” She whispered. “Want to show me what you’ve got?” She played with his suit jacket. You didn’t like on bit of it.

“I’m gonna show you all I’ve got.” He smirked and pulled a gun from behind his back, pointing it at Maria. You smiled to yourself. Wrong play. “The girl Quinn was dancing with is Alice Pollok. Daughter of-” You cut Skye off, before she could finish her sentence. “Joseph Pollok, head of the Pollok cartel.” - “Yeah.”

While you Skye had identified the woman Quinn had danced with, Maria had easily disarmed the Quinn’s handyman. “The chip, you have it.” She ordered. The blonde reached into his left pocket with two fingers, pulling out a thin computer chip that was barely the size of a post-stamp.

“Agent Y/l/n?” She called for you, not diverting her gaze from the blonde man in front of her, gun still pointed it him. “Hand the chip over.” She ordered and he did. “That was easier than I thought it would be.” You said, shrugging, as you looked at the small chip in your hand. “Sometimes I hate that we have to night-night them. Such a shame, this one was so cooperative.” You said to Maria who nodded her head in agreement, before pulling the trigger of what Fitz-Simmons called the ‘Night-Night-Gun’.

You handed the chip to Maria, who stored it away in her bra. Effortlessly you grabbed him by the feet and placed his body around the next corner so no one would see him straight away. “Guys, four men heading your way. You better come up with something fast, no time to run.” Skye’s voice again. You heard someone rattling at the door. “I’m so sorry about this.” You quickly said to Maria, before doing the first thing that came to your mind in the moment. You pressed her against the wall and kissed her.

Maria was very surprised, to say the least, but she kissed you back nonetheless. You weren’t sure if it was to not blow your cover or simply because she actually enjoyed it. Her hands tangled in your hair as yours started raking up and down her body, drawing a small whine from her as the door burst open. You decided to keep on the show so they would leave again, which, really quickly, they did. “You’re clear.” Fitz’ voice now.

Lost in the moment, you didn’t pull away for another two or three seconds, before, gently, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the room. Maria still seemed to be a bit startled, but right now, your top priority was to get the chip to the plane safely. As you led her out of the castle, your hands intertwined, Skye’s voice was on the comms again. “Four on your tails again. Fifty meters.”

“Let’s put them to sleep.” You smiled, pulling your Night-Night-Gun out, seeking cover behind a statue. Maria did the same on the other side of the stairs. “Handymen in five, four, three, two and one.” Skye said.

The steps came to a halt at the top of the stairs. You hared hushed voices as they looked for the two of you. With a nod, you signaled for Maria to shoot. On the count of three, you emerged from behind the statues. You hit the first handyman on the right, a tall but very thin boy that couldn’t have been older than nineteen. As his body hit the ground, Maria had taken out the man next to him, a smaller boy, about the same age but built rounder.

The two men left, both more muscular and about ten years older than the other two, started shooting at the both of you. One bullet grazed your upper left arm, tearing the fabric of your tuxedo and your skin, leaving a wound of about ten centimeters. Maria shot you a worried look that went unnoticed by you as you took out the remaining two men.

“Let’s get going.” You motioned for her to follow you as you started running towards the extraction point, where Coulson was waiting for the two of you with a car. “Fuck these heels!” Maria cursed, stopping in her tracks to remove her shoes. You could already hear voices in the distance, calling out to search for you, so you quickly picked Maria up, throwing her over your shoulder, realizing that you didn’t exactly have the time to wait for her to take off her heels. “Shit- Y/n. Are you nuts?!” She exclaimed as you easily carried her, falling into a jog again.

“Get in the car.” Coulson ordered, opening the back doors of the black truck. You set Maria inside first, before climbing in after her as Coulson drove off. “I’ve got Y/l/n and Hill. Wheels up in three, May.” He instructed as the plane came in sight.

“Great work out there. Simmons? Patch Y/l/n up, yeah?” Coulson ordered as you exited the S.H.I.E.L.D. truck and the plane went up in the air.

You sat down on a chair in the lab, taking off your tuxedo jacket, placing it on the back of your chair. You loosened the bow-tie around your neck and got rid of your dress-shirt as well, leaving you in your sports-bra as you waited for Jemma to finish gathering the material to patch you up. Maria stood outside the lab, talking with Phil.

“Quite the improvisation out there today.” Jemma complimented as she started cleaning the would on your arm. “Tell me about it.” You huffed out a laugh. There was silence for a few moments. “So… How was it?” Jemma asked as she pulled a thread through the needle in her hand. “How was what?” You asked her, cocking your head to the side. “Getting shot? Piece of cake, obviously.” You smiled at her. Jemma rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take it from here, if you don’t mind, Agent Simmons.” Your head turned to the door, through which Maria had just walked in. She had changed into a pair of jeans and a navy blue Marines t-shirt that looked slightly washed out. Nothing like the Maria Hill you would see at The Hub or at HQ.

“Not at all, Commander Hill.” She replied and placed the needle and thread on a sterile tray, before leaving the room.

Maria stood in front of you, towering you as you were seated in front of her. Her eyes raked over your features and you could have sworn her eyes lingered on your chest there for a moment. “Does it hurt?” She asked you as she assessed the wound, fingers gently tracing the skin around it. “Barely. Adrenaline, I guess.” You replied, smiling, looking down at your lap. “Shame the tux is ruined though.” You added, now looking up at the Commander, a smile on your lips.

“Shame.” She agreed as she picked up the needle and thread. “Want a local anesthetic?” She asked and you shook your head. While Maria patched you up, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. She was so mesmerizing.

As she wrapped a bandage around your arm to keep the freshly sewn wound from getting infected, she took a deep breath. “Why did you say you were sorry?” She asked as she secured the end of the bandage with some tape. “Sorry?” You asked, still entranced by the way her fingers had patched you up.

“When you kissed me earlier. You said you were sorry, before kissing me. Why?” She asked again. There was some uneasiness in her voice, you could sense it. “Honestly, I don’t know. I- I was just not sure if you would be on board with what I was about to do so. Yeah.” You said, not meeting her eyes.

You felt her hand on your chin, lifting your head to meet her icy blue eyes. “Why did you think I wouldn’t be on board?” She asked. “’Cause I’m usually not like that.” You replied. “So you don’t randomly kiss your boss when you’re about to be blown?” She asked teasingly, stepping between your legs, the hand falling form your chin to the base of your neck. You chuckled, “No, actually, I don’t.” You smiled up at her and she smiled back. That smile. “But I did enjoy it.” You added, now fully back to your confident, flirty self.

“I’m glad.” She replied, now resting her other hand on the other side of your neck. “Because I did too.” You stood up from your chair, hands falling to her hips. “Oh, did you now? I never would have figured with your hands all tangled up in my hair.” You teased her. “Shut up.” She whispered and closed the distance between your bodies, capturing your lips.

Her lips were as soft as you remembered them from earlier, but the kiss was different this time. It was softer than before and you could feel her pour herself into it more. You kissed her back, gently, your hands found their way underneath her shirt where you stroked her hip bones with your thumbs. One of her hands was on the back of your neck, while the other one was starting to tangle in your hair.

You drew back slowly, the need for air becoming a problem. You smiled at her and gently tugged a strand of hair behind her ear. “Too bad I don’t have private space to take you on this plane.” You spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “What a shame.” She whispered back, before recapturing her lips.

The sun was shining through the curtains of your Richmond flat, coaxing you awake gently. Instinctively, you turned around to shut off the alarm that usually woke you at five every morning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You groaned as you scrambled to get out of bed, the alarm reading 6:22 a.m.

After quickly getting dressed, you came rushing out into the streets with your tie loosely around your neck and toothbrush still in your mouth. You started running down King Street and Old Palace Place, discarding your toothbrush into the closest bin as the trees around you were blurry due to your fast pace.

It had barely been two months since Rebecca Welton took over AFC Richmond after her rather nasty divorce from Rupert. You had been Mr. Mannion’s assistant for three years and Ms. Welton seemed to like you at least to the point where she felt bad about firing you, so she let you keep your job. She also felt like she owed you for telling her about her, now, ex-husband’s affairs with other employees.

You reached Nelson Road just moments before Rebecca’s arrival, fixing your appearance in the first mirror you found. “Oh, Y/n. Great to see you!” Higgins greeted you as you rushed your way up the stairs to the office you were sharing with Rebecca until accommodations were made. “G’morin’ Leslie!” You greeted back with a smile. “Someone’s in a rush.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Consider waking up twenty-three minutes ago in a rush.” You agreed easily, trying to catch your breath.

Your conversation was then interrupted by the sound of heels echoing through the halls and then up the stairs. “Well, here she comes.” You said to yourself and Higgins shot you an understanding look.

“Good morning, Boss. You have a conference call in thirty minutes.” You informed her as she gracefully strode on into her office. “Yes, about the auctioning of the art Rupert, oh so graciously, left me. I know.” She replied and sat down at her desk as you rushed over to make her a cup of tea. “Staff meeting at nine.” You added.

“Did you call, uhm… what was her name again?” She asked you absent-mindedly, opening her laptop and typing away. “Janet?” You offered, placing the cup on her desk. “Yes, Janet.”

“Yes, I called her and I told her that if she doesn’t get her hands on the matter immediately, there will not be any matters for her to get her hands on in the future. Also, your lawyer called. The one you hired for the divorce. He said that it is imperative-” You informed her but she cut you off immediately.

“Cancel the call, push back the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets. And also get a hold of PR and have them start drafting an interview with Coach Lasso as soon as he gets here.” Rebecca ordered. She had always been quite distanced, it was just what you thought she was like.

“Nicely done.” You replied in a monotone voice. “If I shall want your praise, I will ask for it.” She replied coldly, picking the cup up and taking a big sip out of the mug. Her phone rang. By now you knew that if she was occupied, it was your task to pick up for her. “Morning. Ms. Welton’s office.” You answered. “Hello, Bob.” You replied at the sound of a voice that you were, involuntarily, very familiar with and rolled your eyes.

At you mentioning the name, Rebecca just waved her hand, but you knew her well enough to know what she meant by the gesture. “Actually we’re headed to your office right now… Yeah.” You hung up the phone before turning to your boss with a confused expression. “Why are we headed to Bob’s office?” You asked as Rebecca came to stand again. It never failed to impress you how she always seemed to have her shit together, acting rational all the time. She gave you a look. The look. The look that meant someone was going to get fired.

As the two of you left her office, you once again noticed that you had a hard time keeping up with her pace. “Have you looked over the list of international players in interest I gave you?” You asked her, continuing your walk down the halls. “Uh, I read a few pages. I wasn’t that impressed.” Rebecca replied, keeping up her pace.

“Can I just say something?” You asked her. “No.” She replied instantly as you came closer to reach Bob’s office. “I’ve been looking over hundreds of lists of players and this is the only one I ever gave to you. There are some incredible players on there.” You explained.

“Remember, you’re just a prop in here.” Rebecca reminded you. Ah yes, there it was again. As if you didn’t hear that at least twice a day from her. You opened the door for her to step in without knocking.

“Ah, our fearless leader and her liege. Please, do come in.” Bob joked, his American accent coming through as he got up from his desk chair, glasses on his nose.

“Beautiful shelve you got here, Bob. Is it new?” Rebecca asked, turning around, her face in disgust at having to interact with the man. “It is English Regency Egyptian Revival, built in the 1800s but, yes, it is the newest addition to my office. Rupert gave it to me.” Rebecca’s face seemed to scrunch up in disgust even more but she shook it off before turning back around.

“Bob, I’m firing you.” She then stated, getting straight to the point. The tall, tanned man looked at her as if she was delusional. “Pardon?” He asked. Rebecca sighed.

“I asked you more than a million times to get Chelsea to transfer us Reece James and you didn’t do it. You’re fired.” She calmly explained and you closed the door. “I have told you that this is impossible. James is not transferring for the next years.” Bob tried.

“Now that’s interesting, you see because I just got off the phone with Chelsea and he’s in. You didn’t even call them, did you?” Rebecca asked, walking up closer to the mahogany desk. “But-b.” Bob tried to find his voice again. “I know, I know. They can be a little scary to deal with… For you. Now, I am willing to give you a month to find a new job. And then you can tell everyone you resigned. Fine?” Rebecca offered. Oh, how she always knew how to play her cards.

And with that, the two of you left his office just the way you had come in. Rebecca didn’t bother to look around. “What’s he doing now?” She asked you and you turned around for her. “He’s moving, He has crazy eyes.” You observed, continuing to walk. Rebecca came to a stop and sighed.

“You poisonous bitch!” Bob yelled and suddenly all eyes of the people around you are on the three of you. “You can’t fire me! You don’t think I see what you’re doing here? Sandbagging me into this Chelsea thing just so you can look good to the board? Because you feel threatened by me! And you are a monster!” Rebecca remained calm. “Bob. Stop.”

“Just because you have no life outside of this office, you think you can treat everybody here like your own personal slaves! You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’re gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one.” Rebecca took a deep breath in, she was acting like the words didn’t get to her before she formed a reply.

“Bob, I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened by you. And I don’t need to look good to ‘the board’ because I am ‘the board’. And I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent and you spent more time cheating on your wife than my ex-husband did, cheating on me. And if you say another word, Y/n here is going to have you escorted out of this building, hands tied to your back, alright?” Rebecca spoke, still somewhat calm as Bob went to speak again. “Another word and you’re going out of here with an armed escort. Is that what you want? Didn’t think so. Y/n. Spit spot, we’ve got work to do.” Rebecca said, spinning on her heel and walking back toward her office.

“Have security take his breakfront out of his office and put it in the conference room. And I need you around for this weekend to review his files and other work.” Rebecca informed you, picking up her pace from before. “This weekend?” You asked her, a frown on your face. “Is there a problem, Y/n?” She asked you, stopping in her tracks. “No. I… just my grandmother’s 90th birthday so I was gonna go home and...” You started but she already went back to making her way to her office. “...it’s fine. I’ll cancel it.” You unwillingly agreed.

Once you were back in the office, you called your family to cancel your visit. You tried your best not to let it get to you but were pissed, to say the least. “I know, I know. Tell Babcia I’m sorry. Okay? Satan is not gonna let me outta here for the weekend… No- I – Listen. I’ve worked too hard for this job to throw it all away, okay?” You Explained to your mother, starting to lower your voice as you heard heels clicking over the floor. “Oh, I’m sure Tata is gonna be pissed… but we take all of our submissions around here very seriously.” You hung up the phone as the office door opened and Rebecca walked in.

“Was that your family?” She asked immediately, standing next to your desk. “Yes.” You replied. “They tell you to quit?” - “Every single day.” The phone rang again. “Ms. Welton’s office, Y/n speaking.” You answered. “Oh… Yeah. Okay. Alright.” You replied before hanging the phone up again.

“Your lawyer is here and wants to see you immediately.” You told Rebecca who groaned in response. “Okay. Come get me in ten minutes. We have a lot to do.” She ordered and left again.

As she left the room, your eyes were trained on her hips, swaying as she walked. She definitely knew how to dress. Everything she wore looked perfect on her and fitted her body in a way that never ceased to impress you. You had caught yourself checking her out on more than one occasion but never really thought anything of it.

Exactly ten minutes later, you knocked on the door to the main conference room, before letting yourself in. “Excuse me, we’re in a meeting.” Her lawyer, a tall, blonde man, in his thirties, addressed you with disgust in his voice as he saw you in your suit. “What is it?” Rebecca asked in a displeased tone, playing her part as perfectly as always.

“Marina Granovskaia from Chelsea’s office just called. She’s on the line.” You informed her. “She needs to speak with you right away, I told her you were otherwise engaged.” You rushed out, eager to get Rebecca out of whatever this was as fast as possible. Her eyes lit up at your words and she silently urged you to come in with all sorts of weird hand gestures.

“Uh… Mr. Swan, I understand. I understand the predicament that we are in. And, uhm… And there is, well… I think there is something you should know.” Rebecca stuttered, getting up from her seat at her desk, walking over to you. The way she stumbled over her words seemed suspicious to you. What was going on? “We’re...getting married.”

“We’re getting married?! What the fuck is going on?! You’re my boss!” You whisper-yelled once her lawyer left and you closed the door behind him. “What?” She asked, sitting back down at the table all calm and collected. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Relax, this is for you too.” She stated as if it would explain anything that had just happened. “Do elaborate.” You joked. “They were going to sell the club.” She started. “So naturally I would have to marry you.” You deadpanned.

“And what’s the problem? Like you were saving yourself for someone special?” She asked, looking down at some paperwork, green eyes skimming over it. “I’d like to think so. Besides, isn’t that illegal?” You asked. “The point?” She shot back, looking up at you again. “We’re no terrorists.” Her eyes went back to the paper in front of her.

“Rebecca.” You tried again. “Yes.” She sighed. “Rebecca, I’m not gonna marry you.” You told her sternly, standing straight. “Because of what? You don’t ‘fancy the ladies’? Because you obviously do. The amount of times that I catch you checking me out is higher than the amount of looks any man, including my ex-husband, ever gave me.” She smirked up at you, leaning back in her chair. “I- I do, in fact, ‘fancy the ladies’…” You agreed under your breath. “Sure you are going to marry me. Because if you don’t marry me, your dreams of becoming our transfer manager will be shattered into pieces.” She stated, pleased with herself.

“Hi. I’m Mr. Gilberston. And you must be...” The man trailed off, looking down at the file in his hands. “Y/n and Rebecca. Oh what glorious times we live in, huh?” He tried to make small talk, sitting down at the desk in his office. The room was small. Tiny, compared to Rebecca’s office. The walls were blue and there were huge shelves with boxes and boxes of files.

“Yes yes, amazing times. And I can’t even begin to tell you how much we appreciate you seeing us on such short notice.” Rebecca started with a smile as the man sat down at his desk before skimming over the file in front of him.

“So… I have one question for you.” He stated, closing the file again. “Are the two of you committing fraud to avoid Ms. Welton having to sell AFC Richmond back to some Mr. Rupert Mannion?” You tried not to roll your eyes at the statement. Well, here you go.

“That is ridiculous.” You shook your head. “Where- where did you hear that?” Rebecca stuttered. “We had a phone tip this afternoon from a man named-” - “Bob Spaulding? I’m sorry. Bob is nothing but a disgruntled former employee. I do apologize. But we do know that you’re incredibly busy, so if you just give us our next step, we will be out of your hair and on our way.” Rebecca tries. She was nervous. More nervous than you expected her to be since this had been her idea.

“Ms. Welton, please.” The man offered her to take a seat in front of his desk, you immediately rushed to pull out the chair for her before taking a seat next to her.

“Let me explain to you the process that is about to unfold.” He started. “First step will be a scheduled interview. I’ll have each of you put in a room and ask every little question that a real couple would know about each other. Step two, I dig deeper. I’ll look at your phone records, talk to your neighbors etc. If your answers don’t match up at every point, you, Ms. Welton, will sell the club, indefinitely. And you, young woman will have committed a felony… punishable by a fine of a quarter million pounds and five years of prison… So, Y/n. You wanna talk to me?” That lecture hit, you were debating whether or not you should just stop pretending.

“The truth is...” You started and Rebecca turned to you, looking uneasy. “Becca and I are just two people who weren’t supposed to fall for each other. But we did. After telling her about her ex-husband’s more than frequent affairs with employees, and plotting a plan for a divorce that lead to having bottles of wine at my place, we just fell in love. Obviously, we couldn’t tell anyone at work because of my promotion coming up and it would be deeply inappropriate if I were promoted under her, while we were in a relationship.” You explained and Rebecca seemed to grow even more uncomfortable.

“So, do your parents know about that secret relationship of yours?” He asks.

“Well, I’m not on good terms with my parents, haven’t seen them in years. So no. No brothers or sisters. Yeah.” Rebecca answered for her part. “You?” Gilbertson asked. “We were planning on telling them this weekend.”Rebecca quickly intervened. “Granny’s 90th birthday and the whole family is coming together. We thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“And where is this surprise gonna happen?”

“At Y/n’s parents’ house.” - “Where is that located again?”

Deciding to jump in, seeing as the probability for Rebecca to know that was about zero, you replied instead. “Buniewice.” You replied easily. “Buniewice.” Rebecca repeated. “In Poland.” - “In Poland?” Rebecca tried to mask her surprise. Her reaction did not surprise you. You had been more than sure that she hadn’t gone over your application as she kept you around. If she did, she would have noticed your dual citizenship.

“You’re gonna go to Poland this weekend?” He asked, not really believing you. “Yes… Yeah, we’re going to Poland, that’s where… that’s where my little… that’s where my darling is from.” Rebecca stated, reaching a hand over to awkwardly pat your shoulder.

“Okay, fine. I see how this is gonna go. I will see you both at eleven o’clock. Monday morning sharp, for your scheduled interview and your answers better match up on every account.” And with that he left the office without another word. Rebecca immediately went to answer her phone ringing.

You and Rebecca left the office building the same way you entered, walking out of the big glass doors on the front of the building, Rebecca was still looking down at her phone. “Okay, so, what is going to happen is we will go all the way over there. We will pretend like we’re girlfriend and girlfriend, tell your parents we’re engaged. Uh, use the miles for the tickets. I guess I will pop up for you to fly first class. But make sure you use the miles.” Rebecca jumped from one topic to the next within seconds while multitasking with her phone still in her hand.

“Hey, why aren’t you taking notes…?” Rebecca asked once she had finally diverted her eyes from the screen of her phone. “I’m sorry, were you not in that room?” You asked her, stopping in your tracks and turning to face her. “What? What- oh, the thing you said about you being promoted? Genius! Genius. The guy completely fell for it.” Rebecca replied, storing her phone in her purse.

“I was serious.” You stated matter of factly. “I’m looking at five years in jail and a quarter million in pounds. That changes things.” - “Promote you? No, no way.” She shook her head. You had a hard time not being intimidated by her, but you did your best.

“Then I quit, and you’re screwed.” You replied easily. “Bye-bye, Rebecca. It has been a little slice of heaven.” You added, turning around and starting to walk away from her. At any other moment, you would have thought this would be a chance for you. The way it was in the books. Forced marriage but they end up falling for each other. But now you weren’t sure anymore. She didn’t even seem to care about you.

“Y/n, Y/n! Fine, fine.” You stopped. Well, that was not as hard as you thought it would be. “I’ll have you be in charge of our transfers. Fine.” You turned back around at her words. “If you do the Poland weekend and the interview, you’re gonna be in charge of transfers.” She gave in. “And not in two years, right way.” You spoke, leaving no room for arguing. “Fine.” She agreed, managing not to roll her eyes.

“And we’ll tell my family about our engagement when I want and how I want.” You added. “Now, ask me nicely to marry you.”

“What does that mean?” Rebecca asked you, looking at you confused. “You heard me. Ask me to marry you, Rebecca. I won’t need you on your knees but ask me nicely.”

“Will you marry me?” She asked, not even meeting your eyes. “No. Say it like you mean it.” You encouraged her. And then she locked eyes with you. Oh how you were a sucker for her eyes. The green was oh so captivating.

“Y/n?” She asked you, voice now a bit less annoyed. “Yes, Rebecca?” You replied. “Sweet, sweet Y/n?” - “I’m listening.”

“Would you please, cherries on top, marry me?” She asked you, sarcasm now very much present in her voice. “Hmm. I don’t really appreciate the sarcasm, but I’ll do it.” You agreed and she flashed you a small, grateful, smile. “See you at the airport tomorrow.” And with that, you left her standing alone.

And this interaction led you to where you were now. Sitting on the plane to Danzig. Little did Rebecca know that you would have to board another plane once you landed there.

“So, these are the questions that this guy will be asking us.” You spoke, only partially to yourself while Rebecca was flipping through a magazine. You sighed and looked out of the window. “Good news is I know everything about you, bad news is that you have four days to learn all this about me. So, you should… probably start studying.” You said and Rebecca took the list of questions out of your hands, starting to flip through them.

“What am I allergic to?” She asked you as if to test your knowledge. “Pine nuts.” You replied easily, not even having to think for a second. “And the full spectrum of human emotion.” You added under your breath. Still, she seemed to have caught your comment and let out a small chuckle. “Here’s a good one. Do I have any scars?” She challenges you again, quirking an eyebrow.

“You know all these answers to these questions about me?” Rebecca asked, not believing one word you were saying. “Scary isn’t it?” You asked her, still looking out of the window. “A bit.” She admitted.

“I’m pretty sure you have a tattoo. Not that anyone else would ever think you did.” You replied, remembering a call you had gotten not too long ago. “Oh, you’re sure?” She teased, a smirk on her face.

“I’m pretty sure. A month ago your dermatologist called and asked about a Q-switched laser. I did some research and found out you use these to remove tattoos. But you canceled your appointment which leads me to the conclusion that you do, in fact, have a tattoo. It’s nothing big. Probably something you got before you met Mr. Mannion seeing as you do not want to have it removed. Maybe something that reminds you of something.” You brainstormed and Rebecca had an amused smile gracing her lips as she listened to your theories. “It’s not on your feet or ankle. Arms are out too. Maybe on your back? Or maybe on your hip?” You continued but Rebecca intervened. “You know, it is very exciting for me to experience you like this.” She joked.

“Thank you.” You joked back. “You’re gonna have to tell me where it is though.” You added and Rebecca rolled her eyes, focusing back on the question catalogue. “No, I’m not.” She replied easily. “He’s gonna ask.” You kept going. “Nope, we’re done with that question.” Rebecca decided, continuing to flip through the catalogue. “On to another question. Lemme see, lemme see...” She trailed off and you diverted your attention back to the clouds surrounding the plane.

“Oh, here’s one. Whose place do we stay at, yours or mine?” Rebecca read out before answering the question herself. “That’s easy. Mine.” - “And why wouldn’t we stay at mine?” You asked.

“Uhm, because my place is bloody nice and I have the perfect views.” She easily answered. “And because you probably live at some tiny, little studio flat with stacks and stacks of Penguin Classics.” She added and you tried not to let your face fall into an inappropriate grimace.  

“Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. We are beginning our descent into Danzig.” Came the muffled voice over the speakers. Rebecca’s face was already furrowing in confusion. 

“Danzig? I thought we were going to Buniewice?” She asked, buckling her seatbelt. Her eyebrows were still furrowed in confusion as you raised your hand and gently pushed between them with your thumb, her face relaxing instantly. “We are.” You answered her question. “And how are we supposed to get there?”

Oh how you enjoyed the look on Rebecca’s face as you boarded a smaller plane. It was nothing compared to flying first class, you knew that, but it had been all you ever knew. While you were focused on the question catalogue for your interview, Rebecca just sat there, not voicing her discomfort, but putting up no effort to hide it on her face and body. 

It hurt a lot when you and Rebecca broke things off. The breakup had been mutual but that didn’t mean it hurt less than one where you are broken up with. If you were being honest, you still weren’t over her after half a year. You had distanced yourself from her as good as possible. You asked Keeley if you could work at the office more rather than at Nelson Road and she agreed. You had rarely seen Rebecca since you broke things off. But you missed her. It was like a piece of you was missing.

You sat at the window, a glass of wine in one and a book in the other. The yellowish light of the lamp on the other side of the room set a comfortable and cozy atmosphere as you set the book down and watched the rain hammering against the window and fall down onto the dark street that was only illuminated by one lonely lamp post about twenty meters from your front door. You sighed. The rain. You loved it. It made you calm. The sound relaxed you. There was thunder rumbling in the distance...

A lightning bolt.

Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-Thunder. Barely a kilometer away now.

You downed the rest of the red liquid in your glass before reaching for the bottle again. You didn’t dare touch the bottle to your lips. No. You thought. The glass. More elegant. You reminded yourself.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol in your system or just your mindset today that had you reminiscing about your time with Rebecca. It felt like yesterday that you were sitting in front of this exact window. Her lounging between your legs and you braiding her hair. There was no make-up, no high heels – not that she wouldn’t have been taller than you either way – no pencil skirts, no pantsuits, no ties, no dresses. Just you, Rebecca, a bottle of red and… white silk robes.

You remembered the feeling of her soft skin under your fingertips, the way that, when your lips connected, the whole world faded out of existence.

You remembered how you laughed together. Watching rom-coms the whole night and her always mouthing the lines like she had never watched anything else. You had loved to observe her. Not in a creepy way, but in a loving way. Many times you had held her, tears streaming down her face when she had encountered Rupert once again.

You sighed. How could it all have gone so terribly wrong. What even went wrong. Was it just the wrong person at the right time. Or maybe right person, wrong time.

Right person, wrong time. You decided. Sounds a lot better. It made you think that, in another life, we may have had a chance.

Lightning. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three. Thunder.

A tear rolled down your cheek. You wiped it away quickly. You had finished the third glass now. I should stop. You thought, getting up, placing the empty glass onto the coffee table in your living room.

I need to clear my head. You thought, placing the green wine bottle back into the fridge. You closed the fridge. There it was again. The picture of you and Rebecca that you couldn’t get yourself to put away. She looked so happy. She had this ability, you thought, that her smile could light up an entire room. No matter how big it was, no matter how many people were in it. She always managed to light up the room with a simple smile.

You walked over the dark oak tiles on the floor of your apartment. It squeaked under your feet as you sat down on the chair next to the door and reached for your shoes. You laced up the black boots. They looked worn out. You had been wearing them for as long as you could remember. You remembered how hard it had been to break them in. Took me almost a damn year. You chuckled to yourself. That was, of course, only a lie you told yourself, not wanting to admit that they were your favorite and important to you.

You reached for your keys in the key bowl. The metal was cold. You reached for your leather jacket on the golden coat rag. That one had been a present from your best friend. Felix. You smiled at the reminder. What would I do without you, pal?

The jacket was almost as worn out as the boots. The color had faded from the deep black it once had into a washed-out, very dark grey. In an attempt to have it live longer, you had patched it up. Where it had been torn on your shoulder, there now shone a large Richmond logo and on the back there was Superman’s symbol.

Superman. You shook your head. Why can’t I just have my Lois Lane? Or do I need fucking superpowers for that?

You closed the door to your apartment. The color of it mismatched the dark oak on the floor. It bothered you, but you never attempted to change it. The door fell into lock and you looked up. Silver. 7. Ironically enough, it had become your favorite number. Something about the number seven seemed satisfying to you. Even numbers didn’t do it for you. Five seemed such a boring number and-

Thunder.

One and nine were just boring. You also liked the number three. Three and seven. You thought. Imperfections that, if added to one another still manage to be perfect. You locked the door.

The rain was pouring as you stepped out of the building. You looked at the lamp post. The darkness had almost swallowed the black-painted lamp now, only the light visible. The rain hit your head and for a second you thought to go back up for an umbrella and then decided against it. You weren’t made of sugar, were you?

You looked at the poorly lit street. A smile made its way to your face. That was where you had first kissed.

She had brought you home after a night out with her and Keeley. It was as dark as it was this night. The lamppost was present as it had always been since you had moved in. Her dress was blue, her heels black and her eyes were the perfect emerald green, and her perfume… intoxicating.

You felt the uneven bricks of the road under your feet as you walked, the thin rubber on the bottom of your shoes made you feel every little stick and stone.

Your hair was wet by the time you had crossed Duke Street and the water was starting to get past the thin leather of your jacket and you could feel your toes starting to get wet. You walked faster, not caring where you went, so lost in your racing thoughts. Racing thoughts about Rebecca. Racing thoughts about her eyes, her laugh, her voice-

Lightning. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-. Thunder. -three.

Racing thoughts about her…

Paved Court, King Street. Old Palace Place. Lightning. Friars Lane. Thunder. Friars Lane. Friars Lane… Friars Lane.

One. Two. Lightning. Thunder. Three.

Your clothes were drenched by the time you had reached the front door and knocked against the dark wood.

Your hair was sticking to your face, your clothes hung off your body like a bag. Your feet were now entirely wet, and your back was soon to be as well. You stared at the golden number. Gold. Silver. Three. Seven. Lightning. Thunder.

Your heart was beating so hard you thought it would jump out of your chest when the sound of the thunder rumbled away over you and pulled you out of the trance you had been in since you left your flat.

Your bones ached, and your unsteady and heavy breathing told you that you had hurried on your way to her door, probably even started running at some point. The lights turned on in the hallway. Another Lightning bolt. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Thunder. The words ‘What the hell’ muttered under a breath but to be heard through the door.

Keys rustling, silence, a key turning, unlocking the door. Cold metal. Like the keys in your hand were when you left. Lightning. Twenty-one. The door opens. Twenty-two. Thunder.

Her hard eyes softened the moment her eyes found yours. The softness you had longed to see again for what felt like eternity times two.

Your back was now wet as well, you weren’t sure whether the water on your face was tears or rain but it could just as well have been both. Her hair was dry, not up the way you used to remember seeing her when you had to see her for work but down. Down the way she used to wear it when you were at home. Down the way she had it when you were in bed. Her face was nude of make-up. The lack of heels and pencil skirt had something comforting, something that made it all easier.

“Y/n...” Rebecca broke the silence. Her eyes were still on yours but showing everything and nothing at once. You had a hard time reading her expression. “Becca.” You replied, feeling water run down your spine.

“Did you- did you walk all the way here?!” She asked and rushed forward to pull you under the roof so that you wouldn’t get any wetter. You nodded.

“I miss you, Rebecca. And I know this is shitty and I know we ended this. Above all that we did fucking six months, twenty-one days, and seven hours ago. But I just fucking miss you! And I know this all is insane. I know you have a thing going on with Sam and I wish you the best but. I just need you to know that I miss you.” You rushed over the words, barely comprehending what left your mouth yourself as you continue to ramble on.

“I miss you, Becca. And believe it or not… I still love you.”

Lightning. Twenty-one. Twenty-. Her lips on yours, igniting a fire in your soul that you have never felt this strong. Thunder.

Rebecca’s lips moved against yours in the familiar way that you had learned to cherish. There it was again. Her signature scent, suddenly as intoxicating as it had been the first time you kissed. Her hand on the back of your head, tangled in your hair, you on your tiptoes to match her height.

“I understand you will attend the masquerade ball next week?” Your father asked, just as he was about to head out for the day. “Affirmative, father. I’ll have William fetch my clothes from the tailor this afternoon.” You responded, looking at him from your desk as you dropped the quill in your left hand.

“You’re not again writing that foolish poetry, are you? Son, how often must I tell you that you are no Shakespeare? And quit writing with your left hand.” He ordered, a deep frown on his face.

“When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down. I’ll crawl home to her.” You recited the words written down on the piece of parchment before you, looking your father straight in the eye. The man’s frown seemed to only deepen at your words. He turned around and left without saying another word. You sighed. Nothing you ever did could seem to make him proud.

Later that day, William arrived with your clothes for the ball. Your father had insisted on the family colors, however, you decided to only go for the blue and switch the black for silver elements. He was not attending either way, so you thought you could just as well do a bit of your won thing.

You hadn’t seen Lady Bellaston since the night the two of you spent at Champagne Lane, but you regularly exchanged letters. William was so gracious to act as a courier for the two of you, delivering your letters to her and her letters to you, so your father wouldn’t suspect anything. William truly was a man of honor. He’d been around the manor for as long as you could remember. For a long time he had been your only friend.

The letters mostly consisted of her telling you about how much she longed to be with you again, while your letters always included a new poem of yours that you had written for her and only her.

Since you met her, your creativity had increased. You saw her in all the little things. The flowers, the sky, the clouds, and the moon with the stars at night. Sometimes even a word was enough to make you think of her.

As the masquerade ball was approaching, you felt yourself grow nervous. It was the first time that you would be seeing her after Champagne Lane. What if she suddenly decided she wanted to end it all? What if she had told anyone? What if she had told your father?

“Are you quite alright, Y/n?” William asked you as he fixed the buttons on your shirt. Whenever your father was not around, he called you by your real name. Whenever you heard your own name, a smile appeared on your face. Your father always called you Atticus. Everyone called you Atticus. Everyone but William, Charles, and now, Clarissa.

“Yes, it’s nothing.” You sighed, your hands a bit clammy. “Is it about Lady Bellaston?” He asked and you met his eyes. “I haven’t looked at the letters. But I sense there is a strong connection between the two of you.” He explained as he stepped aside for you to look into the mirror.

“We have been sleeping together, if that is what you are asking.” You told him as you smoothed out your clothing. “I was not implying-” William started but you cut him off, chuckling. “It’s fine, William. Really.” You told him. “I suppose, I am just nervous to see her again. We’ve been talking over letters over the past two weeks, but what if she decided that she wants to end whatever we are having? What if she thinks it was wrong?”

“Everything will be alright, Y/n. I’ve seen how she beamed when I came with your letters every day. How she was eager to get your reply. She won’t change her mind. And if she does: Whatever happens, happens. Everything happens for a reason.” William tried to soothe your nerves. “Thank you, William.” You genuinely told him and he gave you a smile. “Now leave. And enjoy yourself. Your father is in Paris until the day after tomorrow, do not worry about the time of your return.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow then. And thank you again.” You told him as you got ready to leave. “My pleasure, Y/n.” He spoke and left you alone.

The carriage in front of your home seemed to have arrived just in time for you to leave. You were still nervous but William seemed to have managed to calm your nerves down severely.

There were already loads of people at the masquerade when you had arrived. You got off the carriage and looked at the mask in your hands. With a sigh, you secured the mask over your eyes and tied it at the back of your head.

You looked around, trying to find any sort of familiar figure but decided it was not worth the effort. Everybody looked so different with the mask on. You still tried to find that one particular blonde among the many people.

“You have got to be kitting me! Atticus Huntington?” A voice grabbed your attention and you turned around. You were met with a small man. His hair was neatly pulled back into a slick bun at the back of his head. “Blifil? Is that you?” You asked. You hadn’t seen the man that you knew when he was still a boy in years. “So it is you! I haven’t seen you in a long time. What have you been up to?” The young man asked. “Spent some time in the countryside. Wrote a book. Everything and nothing, really.” You explained. Then Blifil was saying something about how he wanted to go to the countryside too, but it just didn’t seem to be a fitting environment for him and some other things that you didn’t quite catch because you were distracted by something, or rather someone.

About fifteen meters away was a woman in a yellow dress, a mask hid her face, but you would know that hair anywhere. It had a different color than all blonde hair you had ever seen. It had a texture that you’d know everywhere. And she was talking with some man, a tad older than you. A hand on his arm as she laughed at something he said. You had a hard time drawing your eyes away from her but managed to get back to your conversation with Blifil.

“I don’t think you’d be a fit for the countryside either, lad… Look, it was nice catching up with you, but I need to find someone.” You explained and gave his shoulder a pat. “Yes, no worries, I must be off as well.” He said and you parted ways. When you looked back to where you had just seen Clarissa with the mysterious man, there were now two ladies, one dressed in delicate green and the other in a deep purple gown. You looked around. No sign of Lady Bellaston.

As you were about to give up on searching, you saw the yellow dress again out of the corner of your eye. There she was, talking to… Tom Jones? What could she possibly want from Tom Jones? Surely she was not going to allow him to wed Sophia. There it was again. That laugh. That laugh that you had come to adore so much. The laugh that you thought was only for you.

As if Clarissa seemed to have felt you watching her, her head turned and she looked at you, giving you a smirk. That was when you knew what she wanted. It was all a game. She wanted to make you jealous and you hated that it was working. Your jaw clenched when you watched her laugh at yet another joke Ton Jones seemed to have made. She looked at you again, quirking an eyebrow at you as if to say ‘what are you going to do about it?’. You took a deep breath before abandoning your drink on the next best table and then made your way over to where Clarissa and Tom Jones were seated.

“If it isn’t Tom Jones. Are you not supposed to be talking to Sophia? My Lady Bellaston.” You acknowledged her presence as you put on a fake smile for Tom Jones. “I was just about to leave.” He gritted out between his teeth before getting up and leaving.

“Follow me.” You said to Clarissa, grabbing her hand, leading her to the next best room inside that you could be alone in.

“What was that about?!” You asked her through gritted teeth. “Why in God’s name were you trying to seduce Tom Jones?! He’s not in love with you!” You were backing her up against the closed door, leaving no place to escape for her. She had a smug smile on her face as her hands reached behind her head to get rid of her mask before she reached around your head to get rid of yours as well.

She caught you off guard with that. It was not what you had been expecting at all. Confused, you looked at her, meeting her emerald green eyes. “Because I want you.” She breathed out. “And this was the fastest way.” She explained, a hand cupping your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“You’re mine.” You breathed once you had comprehended her words. “You belong to me. And if you ever look at him like that again, you are going to be very sorry, Clarissa.” You told her and her pupils dilated at your words. “Understood?” You asked her, looking deep into her eyes. You took the small whimper that fell from her lips as a yes. “Turn around.” You ordered and she immediately obliged.

You practically tore the dress from her body, not caring if it took damage as you removed it from her body. You just needed so much access to do what you had in mind. “Now I’m gonna show you who you belong to.” You growled into her ear. You looked around to find the next best place to take your activities to and saw a desk in the middle of the room. You got a hold of her hips and led her to the wooden piece of furniture.

One swift movement was all it took for you to lift her up to sit on the desk as you stood between her legs and removed her underwear. As you did, you got the perfect look at her breasts, corset so tight they were threatening to spill out of it. And the little heart-shaped mark was present once again.

You dragged your index finger up her slit and a low moan left the woman’s mouth. “Oh, darling. I’ve barely touched you and you are already drenched.” You chuckled at the wetness you found between her legs.

Without a warning, you thrust two fingers into her dripping core, Clarissa’s head falling back at the rough pace you set from the beginning. Your fingers play with her sensitive bundle of nerves, while one of her hands reach for your hair, gently tugging on it, while streams of moans leave her throat. Your lips latch onto her cleavage, leaving mark after mark on her porcelain skin.

Her gasps get higher in pitch and once you feel her flutter around your fingers, you pull away fully, gaining a groan and whimper in response. Just as Clarissa was about to say something about it, you slipped your fingers back inside, thrusting even harder and faster, a moan taking up the space of her words. Her pupils were blown wide, and her chest was flushed and covered in, what you thought was, art.

Your thumb on her clit continues to tease her further, her gasps becoming more frequent and the rhythm more frantic. Just when you curl your fingers into that special spot inside of her, her back arches fully into you, and a loud moan leaves her mouth. When you press your lips to hers in an attempt to silence her loud moans, the kiss is sloppy and messy. A few moments later, curses in what seemed to be French started leaving her mouth. Within the next few moments, you can feel her walls flutter around your fingers and her hands clawing at your back, into the fabric of your suit, while you throw her over the edge. You helped her ride out her high, before pulling away. “Who do you belong to?” You ask her, wanting to know if she remembered anything about your conversation from before. “Yours.” She panted, trying to catch her breath.

Her hair was now messy, the heart-mark washed away by sweat and her lipstick was smudged. You wondered if there was some on your face. The way she smiled at you made your heart ache. “I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted out. Just as you realized what you had said, you put your hands to your mouth. “Sorry- that was...”

“Where are we even heading?” Kanan asked as he watched Hera press a few buttons. “Somewhere safe.” The Twi’lek replied, focused on her task. “Well, now that’s helpful.” Ezra joked, leaning back in his seat. “With the Empire following almost everywhere, we need a place to lay low for a while. We can not return to Lothal.” Hera replied, still not answering the question of her fellow crew mate as the ship entered Hyperspace.

“Courlag.” Ezra gasped as he set eyes on the planet the Ghost was flying towards. “I’ve heard so many stories about-” Ezra rambled but Zeb cut him off. “Shut it, kid.” He hushed him. Chopper let out all sorts of noises as soon as the name of the planet had left the Padawan’s mouth. “Yeah, Chop. We’re going home.” The pilot spoke to the droid.

“We’ll have to take the Phantom form here. We’ll blend in better.” Hera said once she had landed the Ghost in the middle of nowhere. At least that was where the crew thought they were. “Today, please,” Hera called out for the group of rebels as she left the cockpit.

“So what exactly are we doing on Courlag?” Sabine asked, asking the question everybody wanted to be answered. “Safehouse. I told you, we need to lay low for a while.” She replied easily, giving away no information whatsoever.

“We’re here,” Hera informed the others as she got up from her seat. “Follow me.” She added while Chopper went back to let out what seemed to be excited noises as the group left the Phantom.

Opening a rather large door, the Twe’lek immediately felt comforted by the familiar surroundings. “Y/n.” She called out. Chopper seemed to become even more excited by the name. “Hera, I don’t-” Kanan started, feeling like they were about to run into something dangerous. “Hera?” You asked into the room, stepping out of a room. “Surprise?” Hera joked, something that the Rebels didn’t witness regularly.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting you.” You smiled, happy at her return home. You decided to ignore the other people that came along with her and went up to her and pulled her into a kiss. She didn’t seem to care about the other people in the room either as the world seemed to disappear around you. It had been about four months since you had last seen her since you had last felt her touch and held her in your arms. The world seemed to fade back into place as you pulled apart.

“Is that a Theelin? I’ve never seen one up close before.” You heard a young voice in the back. He seemed to be talking to the Lasat. “I assume this is your crew?” You asked her, looking down slightly to meet her green eyes. “Affirmative.” She replied and wrapped an arm around your waist. “Hey there, Chops.” You said, finally acknowledging the droid at your feet that had been begging for your attention for a moment now.

“Hera, who is that?” Asked the young boy who had been talking to the Lasat seconds before. “Well, Rebels. This is my wife. Y/n.” The Twe’lek introduced you to the group. “Y/n, love. These are Ezra, Zeb, Kanan, and Sabine.” She explained, gesturing towards each of them with her hand as she said their names.

The little introduction was disturbed by Chopper reentering the room, beeping rapidly, a child on top of him. The little boy’s eyes were bright as he saw Hera. Immediately, he climbed down the droid and waddled his way over to her, babbling away happily. “Hey there, Jegg. I’ve missed you so much, darling.” Hera spoke to the boy as she picked him up.

The boy had her lekku, your lavender skin, and a bit of colorful hair on his head. The boy was rather tall for his age, having been born only about ten months ago. “And this is Jegg, our son. Say hi, Jegg.” She cooed at the boy who waved a hand and babbled some more.

“Well, this is not what I expected.” Zeb, the Lasat broke the silence. “Well, you better make yourself at home, we will stay here for about two weeks,” Hera instructed and the Lasat nodded. “Okay, I’ll say what everyone else in here is thinking.” The boy, Ezra, decided. “You have a family? Like a wife and a child and you didn’t tell us?” He rambled and you couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s safer this way. I already have lost enough. I can’t lose them too.” Hera explained. “Well, I suppose that’s a good explanation.” Sabine decided, sitting down on a lounge, placing her feet on the small table in front of it. “No shoes on the table!” You exclaimed and all eyes were on you, you scratched your neck awkwardly. “Sorry, old habit. But seriously. If you want to put your feet there, no shoes.” You apologized. Sabine complied, taking off her boots.

“Would you like some food, something to drink? The way from Lothal to Courlag must have worked up an appetite.” You asked the group of Rebels. “That would be great, thank you.” Kanan finally spoke up. You sensed that he felt uneasy. “I will be back. Chopper, please prepare the guest rooms.” You asked the droid who, reluctantly, followed your request.

You disappeared into the kitchen, preparing some food for the group of Rebels. “Y/n?” You heard Hera ask as she entered the kitchen, the door closing behind her. You turned your head over your shoulder and smiled at her. “Hello, love.” You greeted her.

“I’m sorry for appearing unannounced.” She apologized now that the two of you were alone. “I didn’t know where else to go.” She looked down at her feet, standing in front of you. “Hey,” You spoke, taking her face into your hands, lifting it so you could meet her eyes. “It’s perfectly fine. I missed you and I’m glad I have you back. Even if it’s just for two weeks.” You assured her, smiling at her gently. “And I finally get to meet your friends.” You teased her. “Aww.” You heard coming from the door, both yours and Hera’s faces snapped towards where the voice has come from. Only now, Ezra seemed to realize what had left his mouth. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt. Where is the bathroom?” He asked, awkwardly. “Down the hall to the right.” You said and he disappeared just as fast as he had appeared.

Hera helped you prepare the food and carried it into the living room. “Ouch!” Zeb winced. Jegg was sitting on his head, pulling at his hair. “Jegg!” You exclaimed, rushing over to the Lasat, removing the boy from his head.

You woke up in the morning to the birds tweeting outside as the sun tickled your scarred skin. You were about to sit up when you noticed a weight on your chest. You smiled at the sight. Lady Bellaston looked so peaceful asleep.

You brought your hand up, gently running your fingers through her soft hair. This had been the first night in months you had slept through. Her presence seemed to soothe something inside of you, seemed to soothe your soul.

You felt her breathing change, indicating she was starting to stir awake. You smiled as a soft frown made its way to her face, eyes starting to flutter open. “Good morning, my lady.” You spoke softly, your voice raspy from sleep.

“Mhm.” She mumbled in response, too lazy to mutter out more words. “Did you sleep well?” You asked her, your hand traveling from her hair to her neck, drawing patterns on her pale skin.

“Would you like some breakfast, Lady Bellaston?” You asked, going back to running your hands through her hair. She smiled. “I believe we are far enough into whatever this is for you to stop calling me that.” She gently spoke.

“What should I call you instead, Lady Bellaston?” You teased, looking down at her adoringly. “Call me Clarissa.” She replied. It was only now that you noticed the rasp in her voice. Immediately, it became your new favorite sound. “Clarissa...” You said, smiling. “That’s a lovely name.” You decided, looking at the ceiling.

“Only when you say it.” Clarissa smiled.

“So, Clarissa. Breakfast?” You asked, getting back to the initial conversation topic. “That sounds very appealing.” She hummed. “I shall be back then.” You said, starting to get up. “You don’t have people for that?” Clarissa asked, sitting up, not bothering to cover her chest. You had a hard time not to look at it.

“Darling, no one knows about this place other than me and my friend Charles. How am I to hire people if this place doesn’t even exist on the papers?” You explained to her. You saw the hint of a blush on her cheeks as the word ‘darling’ left your lips.

“In that case, I might as well accompany you.” She decided and you smiled, watching her get out of bed, completely bare. “Would you like a robe, my lady?” You asked her, seeing goosebumps appear on her skin as the cold air hit her body completely. “Mhm.” She hummed, stretching her arms above her head, hands almost reaching to the ceiling. You went over to the wardrobe next to the window and pulled out a dark blue, silken robe, draping it over your left arm before walking back up to her.

“Thank you, dear.” She smiled and slipped on the robe. “Looks much better on you than it does on me.” You smiled back at her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I highly doubt that, Y/n.” She whispered back.

When you heard your own name, it usually made you cringe. You were rarely called by that name, it somewhat sounded like another person’s name. But when she said it. When she said your name, it made you feel like it was your own.

You were pulled out of your small trance when Clarissa pulled you in for a kiss, one hand holding onto your chin, while the other lingered against your bare chest, nails gently tracing your scars. You had felt a bit vulnerable, falling asleep next to her like this, showing your scars. But she seemed to cherish them like they were some kind of treasure.

You prepared breakfast for her in the kitchen, she sat on a chair across the stove, observing you carefully, following your movements. “Who taught you to cook?” She inquired, leaning onto the counter, one arm holding up her head.

“Charles’ wife, Clorinda Morrissey. She owns a tea room just outside of London. I spent some time at their place for a change of place. Finding a new perspective to look upon a book that I was writing.” You shared, cutting up some vegetables.”You’re a writer?” Lady Bellaston inquired further, still carefully observing your movements.

“Ah, yes. Well, I suppose not really?” You said. “Why the change of scenery?” She asked, truly intrigued by the topic. “They live closer to the countryside, you see. No greater place to find poetry than in nature, is there?” You explained as you finished preparing the meal.

“A poet, huh? I wonder what the Viscount has to say about that.” She asked you in a teasing manner. “It is more of a hobby to him. God forbid if I actually sell them for good money someday. Other than that he believes nothing will ever come close to the works of William Shakespeare.” You explained and she nodded in response. “Although Shakespeare is indeed a very skilled writer.” You admitted.

“I shall be the judge of that.” Clarissa decided. “I own loads of Shakespeare. Have read even more.”

“What would you like to hear?” You asked, plating the meal. “Surprise me.” She requested, smiling. You thought for a moment before starting to recite a work that you had started a few weeks ago.

“Midnight. Not a sound from the pavement. Has the moon lost her memory? She is smiling alone.” You started, looking into Clarissa’s captivating green eyes. “In the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feet. And the wind begins to moan.” Your voice was soft but clear. A bit of a rasp was noticeable, still a bit tired. “Memory. All alone in the moonlight. I can dream of the old days. Life was beautiful then. I remember the time I knew what happiness was. Let the memory love again.” You delivered the poem more song-like. It had always been more of a sonnet in your mind.

“Hmm.” Clarissa hummed, eyes closed as she absorbed the soft sound of your voice. “Melancholic. Something about time passing and the transience of life. Forgotten by the people around you while longing to feel loved again. Perhaps for the first time.” Clarissa interpreted your words, getting up from her seat across from you. “The importance of the past in regards of shaping the future.” She smiled and kissed your lips. “You have a wonderful voice, dear.” She complimented you and you blushed a bit. “Thank you, Clarissa.” You smiled back and handed her one of the two plates.

“You are very skilled with your tongue,” She said smirking, “Handling words so well… Shakespearean, one might say.” She teased you. “And you, my dear Clarissa. Are a very skilled interpreter.” You teased her back. “And judging by last night, I do agree on the matter of my skilled tongue.”

The two of you enjoyed your meal in comfortable silence. Both of you could sense the electricity in the air, knowing it would only be a matter of time until Lady Bellaston’s robe and your pants would be on the floor.

And sure enough, a good fifteen minutes later, the empty plates were long forgotten as you undid her robe, as you had her trapped against the counter.

You slid your hands up her thighs, picking her up easily, and placed her down on the counter. Her hands instinctively wrapped around your neck, pulling you in as close as possible.

Her hand in your hair was sending shivers down your spine as you started pressing kisses to her neck. The next kiss was both long and short lasting. You both longed for it to be longer but you both suffered from the lack of oxygen. You moaned into her mouth as you rejoined your lips with hers and her tongue slipped into your mouth. She was intoxicating.

“You’ve learned a lot.” You teased her, leaving soft kisses along the line of her knife-sharp jaw. “Tell me you want me, Clarissa.” You whispered into her ear.

“I don’t want you.” She said, pushing you off her neck. “I need you. Really, really bad.” She said a smug smile on her face.

Immediately, you pushed her thighs apart, standing between them. She looked down at you with lust-blown eyes.

She arched her back into you, just for the sake of being as close to you as possible. You couldn’t get enough of her, she was like some kind of drug. So addicting, but making you feel so much joy inside.

Your eyes flickered up to her as you smirked. “Let me take care of you, darling.” You whispered, hands running up and down her luscious thighs. You started kissing her again, softer this time. As if you were trying to tell her something.

The blonde’s head fell back suddenly as you watched her eyes roll into the back of her head as you pushed two fingers inside her, curling them gently as you started at a slow, steady pace. Moans spilled from her mouth like a waterfall. You couldn’t help but look at the woman’s face, eyes falling close as she let the pleasure you were providing her with wash over herself.

“Dear lord, Y/n. I-” She couldn’t even finish her sentence properly, but you already knew what she was going to say as you felt her starting to clench around your fingers.

You added a bit more pressure onto her sensitive bundle of nerves, getting her even closer to the edge. She cried out as she tightened around your fingers even more. “Please, can I-” You didn’t let her finish her sentence. Instead, you hungrily pressed your lips onto hers.

You increased the pace once again, that seemed to have been it for her. She arched her back and her front was pressed to yours as her high overcame her. Her eyes were shut tight as she tried to catch her breath afterward.

You pulled her into a deep and loving kiss.

“Can you show me how to…?” Clarissa asked once she had fully calmed down while you pressed soft kisses all over her body.

“I would love to.” You smiled and helped her down the counter. Easily, you picked her up and carried her up the stairs, back into the bedroom where things had started last night.

You instructed her to sit on the edge of the bed, before walking up to her, coming to a halt between her legs. “Help me with these, darling?” You asked her, referring to your pants.

Instinctively, she followed your request and undid your pants, hands slightly shaking with nervousness. “Don’t be nervous, Rissa. It’s just me.” You smiled at her softly. A warmth overcame the older woman at the new nickname. As soon as your pants were on the floor, Clarissa started eyeing you up as if you were raw meat. “Like what you see?” You asked her teasingly, a blush crept up her cheeks at the thought of being caught staring. But she couldn’t help it. Even if she tried. She found herself so captivated by your uniqueness and beauty, that she wouldn’t dare tear her eyes off you even for a moment.

You came around the bed, placing yourself against the headboard, patting the opening between your legs for her to fill. Immediately, she complied, rushing to plant herself between your thighs. Then you felt her lips on yours. At first, the kiss was calm and caring, but it developed into rushed and heated rather quickly.

“Explore me. Mark me up, darling.” You instructed her. “Start with my lips and move down south.”

She immediately obliged, eager to please you for the first time. She began peppering kisses all over your face, coming back to your lips every now and then. She then moved down to your neck and collar bone. When she hit your pulse point, you gasped slightly and she immediately drew back, only to be met by your lust-blown eyes.

“Don’t stop, darling.” You breathed. “Bite down on that spot, beautiful.” And she did as you told her, teeth grazing your pulse point, eventually gently biting down on it, retrieving a strangled moan in return. She could feel the vibration on her face.

She continued to explore your body, hands roaming all over your body as she caressed the scars from your surgery with gentle kisses, your hand was tangled in her hair now, holding a firm grip. “Hmm. I need you.” You hummed out as her kisses traveled to your stomach, hips bucking when she dips her tongue into your belly button.

“Come straddle my lap, darling...” You husked and she came right up, trapping you against the headboard. “Let’s start easy, shall we?” You asked her, caressing her cheek gently, she nodded barely. You gently got a hold of her hand, guiding it down to your throbbing heat.

On her own, she dragged a finger through your folds, making your head fall back in a silent scream. “Inside.” You whimpered, trying to contain your moans and she easily slipped one finger inside your core, her lips leaving hot kisses on your neck.

She added another finger and quickened her pace, leaving you gasping before a low moan escapes your mouth when she hist a special spot inside you. She smirked and curled her fingers inside you, sending a wave of pleasure rippling through your body. You were barely able to kiss her back at that point, your mouth becoming useless against hers.

“Oh, God!” You moaned when she pushed her thump against your bundle of nerves, thighs starting to close. “Don’t you dare.” She whispered, using her knee to keep your legs open. With one last curl of her fingers, your legs started to shake and your body started quaking with pleasure.

“Dear god, I don’t even know what more to teach you.” You chuckled as she fell down next to you, once you had recovered. “I have learned form the best.” She chuckled back.