#it got caught early but like! shit! fuck! damn what if it goes wrong!!!

[yeonmuse]

WELCOME TO THE BAND | Day 12

PAIRING Wooyoung x reader

WORD COUNT | 1.9K

GENRE none

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️ vulgar language, sexual innuendos

SUMMARY Wooyoung meets you by chance and things you make a great addition to him and Sans band.

MORE | Day 12 of the Groupie Love Series

It was 15 past midnights and you and your friends had just had the time of your life at the annual end of summer rave. Opposite to your sister you were a complete problem child. While your sister had chosen to settle down and go off to school you were content living the fast life. Drugs, sex and music were the only things you care for, of course you loved money too, but that had never been an issue for you. Despite being your parents hell baby you were spoiled rotten, you saw no point in working or doing anything unnecessary with your life when you were born into wealth. That was exactly why your parents felt that it was about time they cut you off.

“You know i’m pretty sure the dj was checking me out the whole night, damn i should have got his number.’’ your friend groans out of disappointment.

“Too bad your little girlfriend came early this month.’’ You tease her, sitting up onto the coffee counter of the convenience store and popping a sucker into your mouth as she rummages the shelves for tampons.

“You know just because you decided to get birth control so you can sleep around doesn’t mean you can torture us girls that decide against it.’’ your best friend responds sarcastically making you scoff before you both burst into laughter.

“Would you two mind hurrying up so that we can close, you’re the only two wasting my time right now.’’ the cashier complains from the front of the store, having heard the two of you laughing and giggling only made him further lose his patience from the time two of you walked in.

“Listen if i wanted to i could buy this entire store, hold your damn horses.’’

“Listen I don’t give a shit how much money you got or what it gets you, pay for your shit and go home.’’ rolling your eyes, you hop down from the counter and make your way to the cash counter. After placing the wrapper from your candy down along with a few other things you silently waited for him to ring it all up and tell you the total.

“He’s kinda cute.’’ your best friend whispers to you from behind you making you roll your eyes.

“Your cards been declined.’’

“Excuse me? Either your card reader is absolute shit or you're just incompetent at swiping.’’

“Listen sweetheart i don’t know if you need me to dumb this down for you any further, but unless you have another card or something you won’t be leaving the store with any of this.’’

“Are you serious? It’s just a pack of tampons.’’ despite your efforts at convincing him to give them to you he still refused. The moment you exit the convenience store you make a call to your bank, something had to have gone wrong for him to say your card declined, you of all people. On the way out of the store you brushed shoulders with some stranger, someone you had been to caught up in your money problems to even give the light of day for having bumped into you.

“Yeonjunn jagiyaa~’’ the handsome stranger makes his way into the convenience store with a smile on his face.

“How do you always manage to come in here the exact moment i’m ready to close and get the fuck out of here Jung Wooyoung.’’ Yeonjun complains as he goes to put back everything you and your friend had taken off the shelves.

“Damn my full name? Who pissed in your cereal this morning?’’

“I’m so sick of these rich trust fund babies acting like they own the entire town.’’

“Oh this should be good, who was it this time?’’ Wooyoung laughs as he opens up a bag of chips and watches his friend restock before having to lock up.

“Some girl and her friend, i’m pretty sure she's Nzeka Parks little sister (alternate universe kiome, if you read my series lip gloss & secrets of summer)”

“Wait like thee Park family? As in the owns that own Park records?’’

“Pretty sure it was her, yeah, though I don't know if her parents went bankrupt or what but she was acting like she’d buy out the whole lot only for her damn card to decline. How the fuck do you get mad at someone else because your ass doesn’t have any money. I swear i don’t get paid enough for this.’’ While his friend continued to ramble on while stocking shelves Wooyoung's eyes shot to you outside the window who was still outside from the looks of it completely tearing into someone over the phone.

“Hey Jun go ahead and give me everything that she was gonna buy when you’re done.’’ Meanwhile on the other side of the glass you were completely pissed after having gotten off the phone with your bank. Now you were angrily dialing up your fathers number only to be met with a cheery “hello dear” on the other line.

“Dad i just called the bank and they’re refusing to unfreeze my account, which i didn’t tell them to in the first place.’’

“You didn’t but we did dear.’’ you could hear your mother say from the other line.

“What? What the hell?”

“Your father and I have had about enough of you taking advantage of the fact that we work hard to ensure your sister and you can live comfortably. We have been trying to let you live your life as expressly as you would like , but lately you’ve gone too far. So until further notice, until we feel like you deserve to have your account unfrozen you will find a way to make your own money.’’ It was clear from the tone of your mothers voice that there was no debating this. Pissed off at both your mom and dad, you hang up the phone.

“Well from the looks of your face that was not an i love you mom and dad type of conversion.’’

“They cut me off! Something about me going too far and now they want me to get a fucking job or something and make my own money.’’

“Don’t mean to interrupt ladies, but i believe these are yours.’’ A tall guy with blue and black hair held out a bag in front of him, you gave him a look of confusion as your best friend took the bag and peeked in.

“Oh my god I don’t know who you are but you’re a lifesaver.’’ Your best friend ran back inside at the speed of light leaving you along with the stranger, earning an annoyed “Oh come on!’’ from the cashier inside.

“Um thanks for that, but i could have gotten those myself…who exactly are you anyways.’’

“Jung Wooyoung, and from what I heard of you and your best friends conversation, you couldn’t buy anything in there with your card frozen.’’

“So you were listening to our conversation?’’

“Actually i just happened to hear when i was leaving out, and from what i heard seems like you need to find a job right?’’

“Why is this any of your business?’’

“Well my band and I just lost our lead singer and we’ve had no luck with auditions thus far, and you look like someone that knows how to blow (definitely no sexual undertones there) so if you’re up for it you come audition tomorrow and if they like you you’ll be touring with us from now on, money isn’t something you have to worry about when you’re one of us.’’

“Holy shit Yn tell me you said yes hello? Did you see how fine that man was?’’

“Obviously i said yes, all i have to do is make them like me it won’t be hard considering who my parents are, and this face is definitely not made to be in someone's grocery store or kitchen.’’ You and your best friend had finally made it back to your place and you were now telling her all the details from your conversation with Wooyoung.

“I still can’t believe your parents just cut you off like that.Do you think they cut off Nzeka too?’’

“I doubt it, everything she does is perfect in their eyes. I doubt she would even care though not like she uses their money anyways.”

“Well I guess that doesn’t matter, let’s just give you something sexy to wear tomorrow for your meeting with that fine ass man and the rest of his band.”

The next morning you showed up to the exact address Wooyoung gave you and were shocked to say the least when you stood outside of a gated mansion. As the gate opened and you entered the parking lot your eyes scanned over all the different cars in the driveway which now had you wondering exactly who this van was and how you hadn’t heard of them. As you arrive at the door Wooyoung opens the door with a smile on his face. Sleeves of his shirt rolled up and his hair pushed back on his head. He looked absolutely devourable in that moment as he stood in front of you with his pic between his teeth. You also didn't like the way he took in your entire appearance from head to toe. Last night after having spent an hour looking through your clothes you and your best friend ended up choosing your custom made fanni club outfit to wear with your meeting today. A nice black set, short black cropped skirt with your botani mesh top. Adorned with man accessories and black leather boots of course.

“Well you definitely look the part.” You could hear him say as he stepped aside to let you enter the house.

“Don’t tell me you hired her just because she looks the part, can she sing?” You could hear someone say from behind him making you roll your eyes.

‘Can I sing? Is he being serious? Do none of them know who I am?’ You thought to yourself.

You scoff making the other guys eyebrows raise at the sound.

“Is there a problem princess? Am I annoying asking my band members simple questions here?”

“San. enough, let her show us what she can do before you start getting all fussy.”

“Whatever.” The man you now knew to be San just rolls his eyes as he goes to sit on the couch with two others.

Wooyoung then turns to you.

“Yn these are the guys, guys this is yn.” He continues on with the introduction, going down the line and ending with San who made you roll your eyes immediately upon hearing his name. You could tell he was about to make this job a lot harder for you. When Wooyoung finally finished with introductions and gave you the floor to show off your talents, let's just say you didn’t disappoint. To their suprise you were really fucking good; though Wooyoung knew that already, having seemed to be the only one in the room aside from yourself to know who you parents were. By the end of this little meeting there was no debate between the band on where or not they were having you join them. You could sing, play guitar, drums, keyboard, compose and on top of that you had the power to get them to the top with your parents being so well known in the music industry.

“Looks like you’re one of us sweetcheeks.” Wooyoung says playfully after the others have left the room leaving just you and him.

“Welcome to the band”

[streamdotpng]

this is chaotic sorry in advanced.

Twin anon here! I made notes while reading on my catch-up venture

Oh my god the idea that a bunch of people have to sign a contract saying wednesday can attack them if she feels threatened is so funny. Like- something had to have happened to lead to this, right? Her team realized it was the best option so Wednesday doesn’t get jailed or bad publicity but her fans just go feral anyway anytime Wednesday puts a knife to someone’s throat

Monster fucker Wednesday confirmed !!! I mean hey was it ever really doubted…

Reached monster fucker anon and that made me laugh. From a pr perspective I honestly think with what Wednesday writes her being a monster fucker would be good. I mean- that’s who she writes for, if you really think about it. Her audience is full of monsterfuckers from the normie x monster shit she writes. Sure, she has horror and what not but the base of it is still that. The question isn’t whether she’s a monster fucker it is what monster she wants to fuck her !!!

Oh my god! I got to the stalker lore stuff and I love it!!! I’m very happy to read more of it and now I have such a better understanding. I knew enid went feral but damn !!! There is no getting in the way of Wednesday and Enid. It makes me happy though that they were able to get past all of this trauma to end up in a much better place where they both can physically be together and love each other. It really speaks to how strong their relationship is like there is absolutely nothing that could ever break the two of them apart.

I have to wonder if anyone at nevermore or hell even in Jericho remember Wednesday (she’s hard to forget) and see her as this celebrity figure. Do they talk about it? Do they bring it up? Do they try to say what happened at nevermore? Are the whispers just brushed away as an old classmate wanting to hate on them? Just rumors bubbled up to ruin Wednesdays image? Or, really, would it not even be blinked at because this is Wednesday Addams after all? (some nevermore students and people of Jericho definitely have a “Wednesday Addams traumatized me” therapy group) OH or does everyone think all the old Jericho people are crazy because wednesday turned her school years into books (unknown to the public) so it just looks like they are taking what she’s written wayyy to seriously

Oh my god the short of enid in jail was heartbreaking. It cements even more how much they deserve. Like- Enid in her life has reached a state where she is so overly loved. She can play video games, laugh, smile, be jump scared and run into the arms of her *wife* at the end of it all. You did a fantastic job writing it!!!

I caught up! Only took me three hours :D

Shout out to writer anon! They’re amazing. I don’t know who you are but all the little shorts were beautiful and really well written. It’s so nice that so many people come together for fics/fandom things.

Back on my twin Enid agenda. I think my twin enid ways is just shit posting at this point. It’ll be so clear there is only one Enid and here I am in my corner tangled around in red string doubling down as if Wednesday Addams herself did not just finally announce that yes, she is married to the one and only endespair. When the Clark Kentification goes to hard smh. Doubling down by saying, you know what, actually, there is a twin and it’s just a messy triangle- No a square, because Wednesday now also has a twin. Case closed. Twin anon staying strong.

Anyway! Away from that stupidity lmao!!! Streamer enid au stays being one of my favorites! Your ideas are always so fantastic and I love thinking about these two so much. I hope you’ve been doing well!

OMYGOD TWIN ANON ITS BEEN SO LONG I MISSED YOU

i deadass thought i ran you off with how i spiralled the twin spin off into its whole thing

also no worries :) nothing wrong with some chaotic rambling so lemme read whatchu got for me

but yeah, there was definitely a scene during wednesday's early years where a fan got too overzealous and a contract had to be made bc she nearly stabbed someone

now its just normal to have these contracts if you ever want wednesday addams in your event

also clearly the monster she wants to fuck her is enid a werewolf, like cmon. Its not even a joke, the amount of wolf imagery is rampant in all her works

glad people like the stalker lore, it wont come up alot bc adult wenclair has moved past it but i wanted to use it to explain why enid is so easily strict on her boundaries esp with chat

as for if jericho and nevermore remembering wednesday? yeah no they definitely know her, with the amount of shit wenclair get up too its hard to forget the werewolf and its master staining their monuments red

they do crow abt it at times but they're so secluded its not really that noticeable. There are the occasional post from a disgruntled adult of long before but that's about it. Definitely looks like an in universe viper roleplayer though!

glad you like my short on jail enid, she's a little crazy but who wouldn't if you gone through what she did in that cell? luckily she got way better, so everything is much tolerable now :)

(also damn, you went through all that content in 3 hours?? i didn't think there was that much. Thank you so much for spending time to do so bc holyshit)

ALSO YEAHHH SHOUT OUT DEFINITELY TO WRITER ANON!! AND JD AND EVERYONE WHO HELPED ME BUILD THE AU

it was really fun :^D

ah yes, wednesday addams and her twin Viper addams. She totally has a sister who's the actor and her the author

thank you again for liking the streamer enid au so much, it was genuinely so fun building it and ot think it took like two-three months to fully build it is mindboggling!!

i'll be doing better nowadays mate, hope you have a good day aswell

[euphoricmind]

Just Not My Type

Today I attended my best friend's 23rd birthday. It was so fun to be with her and I met new friends too, which made it more interesting.

Party started at around 7:30, everything was settled and the guests have started to arrive. It was just intimate so I had to take a look around all people. Was I mataray? Hell, this is definitely the problem of all the girls with a resting bitch face. Gosh, I hate it!

My best friend asked me to come for the door when the doorbell rang. Opening it was 5 people, one of which I recognized and so we hugged, a mutual friend of ours!

I thought they were altogether until the last person suddenly asked, "Is this *'s birthday venue?" I was surprised, and so I said yes and asked him to come in. I wouldn't lie, he caught me off guard and not just that, he caught my attention too.

All throughout the night, I was spending time with my best friend, making her the star of the night, making friends with the newbies, and still, looking at him from time to time. He looked really quiet, not having a conversation with him except from when I got him by the door and when I airdropped pictures that was related to the party to everyone. Not a getting-to-know conversation just yet.

We played some games, lowkey had chit-chats, until we all settled down into one table, sitting in front of each other. I was damn surprised, he's different when he's drunk. Totally.

He started becoming so extroverted, really noisy, in good words, the life of the party as he claimed, and he wasn't wrong at all. It was all fun and games until I started becoming a bit tad quiet, my social battery running out, same goes for the others, but not him. We had our fair shares of laugh, high fives and damn he's funny as hell, not gonna lie at all!

Conversation shifted into something debatable, he called for my attention, "Ashley, what would you rather choose? Hypothetically, a random girl taking good care of your drunk boyfriend, or just letting him pass out on the streets?" I answered, "It depends, the girl should know her limits, why would he even drink that much when he can't go home on his own?" He then replied, "Just answer between the two options." and I was like "Huh? Why are you asking this?" and he said, "Wala, I just want to get to know your personality given your answer" and damn, he didn't get the answer he wanted from me, or did I answer it wrong? saying "This is why I'm single" to his friend. It got me off, lowkey ruined my mood and clouded my thoughts.

I tried to let it go, maybe he was just too drunk to react that way, but my thoughts consumed me, fuck what if he judged me and thought I wasn't eligible of being a girlfriend cause of that. Well then, fuck right.

It's now 2:30 AM and I'm in my room ranting this shit out. This shall pass anyway. Maybe he's right, my mentality isn't fit for a relationship or maybe this early, I knew he wasn't my type.

[nightseeye]

Bro its now tag rant hours

Warning for cancer ment. and overall anxiety/panic

[bi-bi-buckleydiaz]

deep breath, do your job | owen joyner

requested; yes! - Could you do a Owen x reader where the reader is Owens personal assistant while filming JATP and while they are filming the reader starts catching feelings for Owen but Owen is in a relationship. Owen and his girlfriend breakup and the reader comes over to comfort Owen and Owen confesses that the reason him and his girlfriend broke up was because of the reader.

word count; 6.4K ... yeah kinda got away from me there. longest fic i’ve ever written

warnings; language, implied sexual content but no actual sex or description thereof

a/n; lol, so i just wrote from 1AM - 4AM because i’m procrastinating my child dev. project thats due today that’s worth a quarter of my grade. i really didn’t mean for this to be so long so it’s probably not this good and the ending is a lil’ rough, but oh well. hope whoever requested this likes it. i kinda do even though it’s long and only slightly proofread.

“Owen Patrick Joyner! Get your ass into hair and makeup before - oh, um, okay oops. Sorry ‘bout that. Should have knocked. I’ll just - yep, i’ll just go.” 

You thought he’d be sleeping. It’s nap time for him anyway, so he should’ve been sleeping. Instead, your technically boss and definite crush, was on his trailer couch with a girl you’ve never seen before. Kissing her. Without a shirt. Yeah, you definitely need to get out of there. 

You’re quick to close his door and begin to walk back to the hair and makeup trailer to tell them Owen will be a minute. 

“Y/N! Hey! Wait up! It’s um, it’s not, well it is, but -” He grabs your arm, causing you to turn around and face him, which, big mistake. Abort. Abort. Turn around. His post make out face is something you did not want to see. Liar.  

“It’s fine Owen. What you do in your free time is not my, well, actually it is since i’m your PA, I just mean who - WHAT, what you do in your personal time, in your trailer, is not my concern. Just, you’re needed in hair and makeup like, an hour ago. So, yeah, just, get there.” You stumble over half your words and watch his face fall as you near the end of your spiel. When he lets go of your arm you’re quick to turn around and leave him alone, walking right past hair and makeup and to set where you can curl up in your chair and eat your weight in brownies, if Madi hasn’t taken them all that is. You hope he goes to get his hair done. You know you should walk with him there because if you’re not practically dragging him to where he needs to go he never gets there on time, as just witnessed. But it’s usually because he’s goofing off with Charlie, not sucking face with a random girl. 

You don’t notice the brownie in your hand has crumbled until a whistle comes from behind you. You turn around a little too quickly, sending the brownie bits flying to the floor. 

“Shit.” You kneel down to begin picking it up, another hand coming into help. Charlie, based on the rings adorning the fingers. 

“Is Owen’s keeper okay?” You huff a laugh at the name the cast gave you a week into filming. You’re the only one who has managed to keep Owen in line since filming started, the only reason he’s ever on time for anything or actually has real food in the apartment or has his drumsticks when needed, etc. etc. 

The boys didn’t want PA’s when Kenny proposed it during bootcamp, they were young adults, they didn't want to boss someone around, it felt wrong. But having more experience than the boys, Kenny vetoed how they felt and told them PA’s would help tremendously, especially on a project like this. That’s where you came in. You were trying to get into the directing and producing scene in Hollywood, you’re dream to be as good a director as Steven Spielberg or, well, Kenny Ortega. But you knew you had to start small, so you applied for a PA job on an upcoming Netflix show, getting hired within the week. Now here you are, a nineteen year old being in charge of another nineteen year old who acts more like he’s five. 

In the beginning, it was purely professional. You were nothing more than his PA who got him from place A to place B in a timely fashion. But then he started to rope you into pranks with the rest of the band. He started inviting you to movie nights, and adventures to the grocery store, and ice skating with Charlie and Madi, and somewhere between helping him keep his life in order and watching him fall on his ass at the ice rink, you fell for the blonde. You know it’s a mistake, falling for him. You work for him. He’s your friend. That’s all he sees you as, but you couldn’t help it. But you’re good at compartmentalizing, so you took all the inappropriate feelings, shoved them in a box, locked the box, and hid it deep in your unconscious. You were doing well with ignoring the box, until you walked in on Owen kissing someone that wasn’t you. 

“I’m fine Charlie, just, stressed. Owen was an hour late to hair and makeup so I kinda feel like a shit PA right now.” Charlie chuckles and hugs you as you both stand up. 

“Please Y/N, you’re the best PA. If it weren’t for you, Owen would never know where anything is, including his head.” You laugh into his shoulder, reveling in the hug for a few more seconds. When you part, you see a flash of blonde enter the set and sigh in relief. He made it. He’s ready. You’re not fired today. 

Just incredibly confused and upset. 

But not fired.

“You better go, I know you’re in this scene with Owen.” Charlie nods and squeezes your shoulder once before running after Owen onto the set that holds Julie’s shed. Taking a deep breath, you try to push whatever the hell you saw ten minutes ago into your box, and get ready for the day ahead. 

Four hours, six brownies, and two cookies later, Owen is officially wrapped for the day, meaning you can go home and continue to eat your feelings in ice cream. You’re quick to grab your binder full of Owen’s schedules to drop tomorrow’s off at his trailer before he sees you. You’re not really in the mood to talk to him about what happened earlier, so you fast walk to his trailer, fully intent on just leaving the paper on his counter where he’ll see it, but a brown haired, green eyed girl throws that plan right out the window. 

You’re so stupid. You should’ve known she would still be here. Waiting. 

“Oh, um, hi.” She says. She sounds nice. She looks nice. But when you look at her all you can see is her hands in Owen’s hair and his lips on hers. 

“Hi.” You don’t know how, but you managed to put on a smile and put a little pep into your voice. “I’m Ashley. I’m waiting for Owen. Is he done?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you stand awkwardly in the doorway, one foot on the step the other in the trailer, hand outstretched ready to place the schedule on the table. 

“He just wrapped for the day. Should be here in a few.” The girl - Ashley - nods. 

“You’re Y/N, right? His personal assistant?” How does she know that. She giggles, “He talks about you all the time. Says the only reason he’s not fired or dead in a ditch is because of you.” OH, you said that aloud. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoo-

“Y/N! What are ya doing just standing in the doorway?” Fuck. You put a smile on and turn around. He’s smiling softly at you, still in Alex’s clothes, twirling those damn drumsticks around his fingers. 

“Um, just dropping tomorrow’s schedule off. Here. Okay...bye.” You walk down the steps, letting the door shut behind you, fully intent on leaving, but Owen grabs your arm again, just like earlier, causing you to stop and turn to look at him. 

“Wait. Can we talk real quick. About...earlier?” No. No absolutely not. 

“Um, I really have to go. I have a lot to do tonight for tomorrow.” Owen sighs and lets go of your arm, face contorting into that of a sad puppy. 

“Just, one minute Y/N. Please. Let me explain.” Screw him and his perfect freaking face. 

“A minute.” His face lights up and grabs your hand, leading you back into his trailer, smiling even wider at seeing Ashley sitting pretty on the couch. 

“Y/N, this is Ashley, my girlfriend.” Ashley smiles and waves, standing up to stand by Owen and grab his hand. A rock settles in your chest at the word. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

“Nice. I’m Y/N. But you knew that. Just like you also know I’m in charge of getting him to places on time. Which didn't happen today.” Owen’s face flushes at that while Ashley terribly hides a smirk behind her hand. 

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that Y/N. She surprised me today. We weren’t supposed to see each other until Thanksgiving but she finished classes early and flew out to surprise me. Kinda got, caught up in -” His face is beat red so you’re quick to cut him off. 

“It’s fine. Just, try not to get ‘caught up’ tomorrow, yeah?” It’s harsh and full of hostility, but you want to leave, the word still bouncing around in your head, swirling around the scene you walked into earlier. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

Flushed face. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

“I have to go. See you tomorrow on set at 5 Am. Got it? Five A M. Don’t make me break into your apartment again. I almost got arrested for that.” Owen is still reeling from your harsh words said a second ago to laugh at the memory. Ashley however, has no qualms about speaking up. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he’s here on time.” She smiles and wraps around his arm like a koala. You hold back a scoff, throwing up a fake smile before turning and leaving. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

Girlfriend. 

It’s almost midnight.

It’s 11:48 PM and someone is knocking on your door. 

Who the fuck is pounding on your door at near midnight. 

You shuffle to the door wrapped up in your comforter, wiping the sleep out of your eyes. You don’t bother looking through the peephole, too angry at the person behind the door to bother, just wanting to yell at them and get back to bed. 

“What the - Charlie?” He looks exhausted, hair ruffled and eyes puffy. He’s in joggers, a random band tee and his denim jacket. You’re pretty sure his shoes are on the wrong feet. 

“Can I stay the night?” He doesn’t wait for your response before walking into your apartment, flinging his shoes and jacket off and walking to your room. You sigh, ignoring the way he just threw his stuff around and instead follow him to your room before he takes your side of the bed. You walk in just as he chucks his shirt off and woah. You were so not expecting that. An explanation as to why he’s here at midnight? Yeah. Him taking your side of the bed? Definitely. But not Charlie taking his shirt off and crawling onto the right side of the bed and curling around a pillow. You take a moment to collect yourself and your thoughts before crawling into bed next to him, making sure to drape the comforter over him as well. He hums in content and turns around to face you. 

“Sorry for barging in like this. Just, ugh, Owen and that girl are not quiet if you catch my drift.” And it’s like the rock in your heart is now a boulder and it’s crushing your ribcage. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You’re frozen, staring at Charlie’s half asleep face. “Like I get it, you’ve missed each other. But c’mon bro I’m there too.” He keeps talking. Keeps pushing the boulder until all the ribs crack and puncture your lungs. “There’s somethings in this world I never wanted to hear, and Owen moaning was one of them.” He won’t shut up. Charlie shut up. You’re entire chest is fracturing, breaking at his words and he needs to shut. up.

“I didn’t really know where else to go, but I remembered how comfy your bed was last movie night so, here I am.” His voice is raspy, words slurring as he’s trying to fight sleep to explain to you why he’s here. But you can’t focus on him right now. Can’t think about a shirtless Charlie in your bed. There’s only one thing you can think about right now. 

Girlfriend. 

Shirtless. 

Girlfriend. 

Kissing. 

Girlfriend. 

“Thanks for letting me crash by the way. I’ll try not to kick you in my sleep.” He chuckles, then finally opens his eyes when you don’t laugh back. You don’t know how you look right now. You know you’re frozen. But is the panic and pure sadness showing on your face? It must be, because suddenly Charlie is wide awake and leaning up on his elbow to look at you fully. “Y/N are you okay?” He’s worried. You want to tell him you’re okay. It’s fine. Everything is fine. But you can’t move. You can’t talk. Because reality is crushing you. It’s ripping up your heart, suffocating you, consuming your mind. 

Owen isn’t yours. 

Owen will never be yours. 

You’re just a friend. 

You’re just his PA. 

That’s when the tears finally start. They come slowly, one trailing down your cheek, then another. Then all at once your sobbing into Charlie’s chest, no doubt getting snot all over him. But he doesn’t seem to care. He just starts to hum some random song while he repeatedly runs his hand over your hair, the other holding you close to him. He keeps humming, his chest vibrating and giving you something to focus on that isn’t your depressing thoughts. It’s almost soothing, the petting and the hug and the humming. 

You don’t know how long you sob into him, but when you stop, his humming stops too. He still holds you close, just lets go of your head so you can lean back a little and look up at him. He’s brows furrow in concern and he pouts at your post-crying face. 

“Are you okay? Am I really that bad of company?” He tries for funny but you can’t bring yourself to laugh with him. Just pout and push his semi-wet chest. “Seriously Y/N, i’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong?” Those two words. 

What’s wrong?

What’s wrong? I fell for my boss and now he’s doing it with some girl and I can’t stop thinking about them and it’s killing me because before I could live with being his friend and PA because at least there was some sliver of a chance but now there’s nothing because he has someone and I have no one and I can’t breathe because oh my god I love him. I love that stupid fool and i’m nothing but his personal assistant. 

It’s quiet for a minute, too quiet, and that’s when you realize you said all that out loud. You look up at Charlie, which was a mistake because his face is full of pity. It’s all sad puppy eyes and “Shit Y/N i’m so sorry.” A fresh wave of tears make their way out of your eyes, but Charlie is quick to wipe them away. 

“Y/N I didn’t know I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have said all of that, God I was so stupid.” And then it’s like a whole new flood gate opens, this one full of laughter though. You start with a chuckle, but soon it’s full out belly laughing. Because Charlie isn’t the stupid one here. “I’m the stupid one. I mean, how idiotic does a PA have to be to fall for the one they’re in charge of? Never mix work with pleasure. It’s PA-ing 101, don’t fall for your boss. I’m so fucking stupid to ever fall for him or think he’d like me back because i’m just his stupid PA who has no talent what so ever, never has a good hair day, can’t go a day without eating their weight in sugar, and will never see him again after filming is wrapped.” Your laughing dies down by the end, and then ends completely when you see the look on Charlie’s face. It’s not exactly pity, but it’s not exactly sadness either. It’s hard to describe what exactly it is, but it’s not good. 

“Y/N. Babes. I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again, okay? I swear to God next time I hear anything like that come out of your mouth again, I’m hitting you with a pillow.” You giggle, but he stays serious. “Dead ass Y/N. Listen, was it probably not the smartest to fall for Owen? Yeah. But you didn’t know he had someone. I didn’t even know he had a girl and I’m his roommate. But, we can’t help who we like. It’s all brain chemistry and heart palpitations and whatever else. It’s something we can’t control. So don’t say you’re stupid because of something you can’t control.” 

“You’re being really smart and caring for twelve am.” You both chuckle, a real smile gracing your face for once in the past twelve hours. 

“I’m sorry for the breakdown it’s just, there’s a lot in my head right now and what you said really didn’t help.” Charlie sighs and pulls you in close. 

“I’m sorry babes. You should’ve slapped me or something.” 

“I probably would’ve had the breakdown at some point tonight anyway.” Charlie pulls back a bit to look at you, confusion on his face. “I kinda walked in on them making out earlier when Owen was late to hair and makeup.” 

“Is that why you crushed that brownie earlier?” You sigh and nod. 

“Y/N, i’m sorry. I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” 

“It’s fine Charlie. It’s, well, it’s not but, I’ll get over it. I’m a big girl. Besides, I have you to get my tears and snot all over right?” He groans while you giggle, but he isn’t really mad if the way he pulls you close and rests his face in your hair is any indication. 

“Always babes.” 

The next day you drive to set with Charlie who didn’t have to be on set at five like Owen, but joined you nonetheless. Taking his duty as your new ‘heartguard’ as he called it last night, you walk to hair and makeup with his arm around your shoulders. It’s comforting, even though he’s putting most of his weight on you because he’s exhausted, the coffee you gave him this morning clearly doing nothing to wake up. 

“Charlie, you could’ve stayed in bed until you were actually needed.” You laugh as he trips up the steps to the trailer, nearly face planting if it weren’t for you wrapping your arms around his waist last minute. 

“Char you good?” You hear BooBoo ask. Charlie grumbles something incoherent and shoves his face into your neck as you lean against the arm of the couch. BooBoo laughs, so do you, but quickly sober up when Owen walks in, Ashley on his arm. Charlie must have ESP or something because, without looking up at who walked in, he wraps his arms around your waist and murmurs in your ear, “Deep breaths. I’m here.” You do as he says, shooting Owen a friendly smile, but dropping it as he frowns at you. 

What is that about? 

“Glad to see you on time Owen. I wouldn’t have been able to break in this morning anyway because an octopus decided to break into my own apartment last night.” You ruffle Charlie’s hair as you say that and he grumbles some more, playfully biting your neck as well. “Ow. Asshole.” Owen frowns even deeper at that, while BooBoo chuckles. He get’s scolded a second later for moving. 

“So that’s where you disappeared to last night. I was wondering why you weren’t home this morning.” Owen’s voice is tight while he says it, Ashley noticing as well if the tightened grip on his arm is anything to go by. Charlie squeezes your waist as a way to say, ‘prepare yourself’ before he moves his head to lean against your shoulder so he can talk. 

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t have had to if you and your girl weren’t so freaking loud.” You tense up, mind starting to reel again, but a squeeze to your waist and a warm breath on your neck manages to bring you back. The trailer goes quiet, even the hair and makeup ladies tensing up and sensing the tension. Charlie, ever the wrong place, wrong time type of guy, grabs your hand and places it on his hair, then moves it back and forth. 

“Pet me.” Despite the tension in the room, you can’t help but giggle at the stupid Canadian boy wrapped around you. Apparently that’s all the rest of the people in the trailer needed to go back to what they were doing. That or they just didn’t want to get involved in young adult drama. You shoot a look at Owen, his jaw tense and hands clenched into fists. Completely ignoring the way Ashley leans up to kiss Owen’s neck, you open your phone and begin to read off his schedule for the day, your left hand still running through Charlie’s hair. 

“Hair and makeup at five AM, sit your butt down and let Shelly do her thing, costume fitting right after. First scene at six-thirty with BooBoo, you guys are doing the scene at the Orpheum where you talk about what’s been going on, you’re going to be sad so this whole frowny face you got going on? Keep it. A break after that then rehearsal with Charlie, Jer, and Mads for Stand Tall. Fitting for the Stand Tall suit is after that, but no actual filming for that scene yet, just getting the measures right so after that, you’re done for the day.” You take a deep breath after all that, BooBoo whistling at you from his seat. 

“You could be an auctioneer with how fast you talk.” You smile and bow your head at him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment Boo.” He shoots you a smile and then raises his hand to high five Owen as he sits next to him. Owen ignores him. In fact, he stays silent throughout all of getting his hair and makeup done. Only smiling occasionally when Ashley shows him a meme on her phone. You watch them, the boulder in your chest rolling around as you do so. But not for jealousy, no, for concern. Owen is acting very unlike himself. You may be upset right now, especially with him, but it doesn’t mean you still don’t see him as a friend; still don’t worry about him. Something is wrong, and you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault. 

“So did it work?” You jump in surprise at the voice behind you, the cookie in your hand crumbling and falling onto the table. 

“Charlie! What did I say about sneaking up on me?” You turn to look at the boy who is smiling too wide at you for you to think this is about to be a completely innocent conversation. 

“Did it work?” He’s practically vibrating where he stands.

“Did what work?” 

“The cuddling this morning? Didn’t you see Owen? He was totally jealous.” And - what? That’s why he was so touchy this morning? 

“I just thought you were tired, that was - you were trying to make Owen jealous? Charlie what the hell? He has a girlfriend!” Charlie rolls his eyes and loops his arm around yours, dragging you away from the cookies and towards the costume room. 

“Yeah, but we both know she shouldn’t be. And the way he was acting this morning? I think he’s starting to realize that too.” There’s no way...right? No, the way Charlie described last night...no. 

“No, okay, he was probably just tired and angry about having to be here so early.” Yeah, that’s it. He was not jealous of the friendly cuddling you and Charlie were doing. Totally...not. Holy shit. You hear Charlie giggling in your ear as you enter costume. 

There, in front of you, is a very shirtless, very toned, very pretty Owen Joyner.

“You’re welcome.” Then Charlie is off to God knows where. Leaving you alone with Owen. Well, not really alone since Soyon is here too, running around looking for different fabrics and textures to throw on Owen. A still very shirtless Owen. 

“Oh, hi Y/N. What are you doing here?” Owen asks, looking at you though the floor length mirror in front of him. He’s not smiling at you, but he’s not frowning either, so improvement from this morning. 

“Oh, um, just making sure you got here on time. And look at that. You did! Good job.” You clap, who knows why, but it makes Owen laugh, which, whew, okay. 

“Yeah, I reminded him.” A voice behind you says. You turn and look at Ashley walking in, coffee cup in hand. She bounces up to Owen, ignoring Soyon and placing a big, wet kiss onto his lips before moving to the couch off to the side. Owen seems shocked by the PDA, which makes sense, you know he’s not big on that, remembering one late night conversation you both had a few weeks ago. 

“Anyway, Y/N, how does this one looks. I think the ruffles are nice. And then when he’s performing Stand Tall we can,” and then she begins to unbutton the shirt all the way down to mid chest and okay, seriously Soyon, now you just want to torture me. 

“I like this.” Owen says, twirling in the mirror like a ballerina. This causes the shirt to fling open more, showing his chest more in the process.

Deep breaths. 

Be a friend. 

You’re a big girl. 

“Yeah. It’s good,” you say, walking over to him to tuck to the sides back together somewhat. “Are you going to keep with the pink theme for the jacket?” Soyon smiles and nods, walking away for a minute leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley. 

“Should it really be unbuttoned that much? I mean, it is a kids show? I don’t want to share my boy with fangirls.” Ashley says. You can’t stop your eyes from rolling or the scoff that leaves your mouth. You watch Owen’s Adam's apple bob as he gulps. 

“Please, Charlie is sleeveless for a majority of the show. Owen showing a little chest isn’t gonna hurt anyone. Besides, Soyon chose good. The way the shirt fits and settles it’s never going to open all the way. Unless, ya know, he twirls like some Carolynn Rowland wannabe.” You smile up at Owen and inhale sharply when you see he’s already looking down at you. “And with the jacket on it’ll stay put pretty well.” You’re still holding the shirt in your hands, looking at Owen’s face as you talk. For a second, it’s just you and him, looking at each other, smiling. Then Soyon comes back and clears her throat. The trance breaks and you back up. You wipe your sweaty hands on your jeans before backing up and standing next to the mirror. You feel eyes on you and look over to see Ashely glaring at you. 

“Here we go. One pink jacket to match.” Owen slides it on and smiles wide. You have to say, it looks good. Professionally speaking of course. 

“Soyon, have I ever said how freaking amazing you are. I mean, this is really good looking. Very Alex.” Owen praises. He’s smiling and it’s a nice sight after this mornings debacle. 

“Alex is going to be the best looking one on that stage.” Owen looks over at you, his smile still there, and the boulder shrinks three sizes. 

“Still think the shirt should be buttoned.” Ashley mutters. But everyone ignores her, even Owen, who does another twirl in front of the mirror. 

“Well then, you’re all set Owen. Go ahead and change and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Soyon leaves, going off to do costume designer things, leaving you alone with Owen and Ashley again. Owen takes the jacket off, then looks around not knowing what to do with it. You sigh and smile softly, taking it from him.

“Here, just give me all the clothes and i’ll take them back to your rack.” He smiles thankfully at you, before frowning again and looking down at his outfit. Getting what he’s thinking, you chuckle and cross your arms. “Bub I just saw you shirtless it’s not a big deal. Now c’mon, give me the clothes before Soyon thinks you’re stealing them.” Owen looks up at you in a way you’ve never seen him look at you before. It makes you take a sharp breath in.

“Maybe you should go. I can give the clothes to Soyon. Don’t you have assistant duties to do?” Ashley is right next to you as she says it. It makes your ears hurt and hands clench. You’re quick to unclench though, not wanting to wrinkle the nice pink jacket. Ashley moves forward to unbutton Owen’s shirt all the way, but he grabs her hand before she can begin. 

“Actually I need Y/N to stay. I have to talk to her about some, ya know, assistant stuff. And besides, she knows where Alex’s rack is and that’s where the clothes have to go. Why don’t you go wait for me in the trailer, I’ll be there in a few.” 

I need Y/N to stay. 

That shouldn’t make you feel as warm and tingly as it does. 

Ashley scoffs and looks away, clearly trying to guilt trip him. Owen sighs and kisses her cheek.  

“Trailer. Ten minutes.” Ashley sighs before nodding and finally leaving. He watches her go, then turns back to you when she finally disappears. You clear your throat and he looks back at you, face a bit red. 

“Um, hey.” You chuckle. 

“Hi.” He nods, and you sigh, walking so you’re right in front of him. “Seriously, O, you need to get this off because if they’re not on the rack for Soyon to fix up by the end of the day it’s my head on a stick, not yours.” Then you’re unbuttoning his shirt. 

You’re unbuttoning. His shirt. You don’t realize you’re doing it until you hand grazes his navel when you untuck it from his pants. You hear him suck in a breath and you immediately take two steps back. 

“Sorry, um. Sorry that was not, um, -” 

“It’s okay. You were just, doing your job. Making sure I get stuff done on time, right?” But his voice is wobbly as he says it and his face is as red as a tomato. You couldn’t have made him that flushed, not you? 

“Right. Yeah. Um, so, pants?” Owen looks at you with wide eyes. “I need to take the pants back too.” It’s quiet, but you know he heard you because he nods his head and begins to unbutton them. You suddenly feel very hot, very suffocated. You should’ve left when you had the chance, just let Ashley do this. You shouldn’t be here, watching as he pulls the velvet pants down his legs. Watching as he steps out of them and - oh God he’s falling. You grab his hand to help him but it’s too late, you both tumble to the ground. You’re on top of him, smushed up against his bare chest, faces centimeters apart, sharing breaths. 

“Sorry.” You mumble. You watch him gulp and look down. Down at wha - oh. 

“It’s, it’s okay. I’m the one that fell and pulled you down.” You nod, causing your nose to brush against his. You’re close, so freaking close that if you were to move not even a full centimeter, your lips would touch.

So. 

Close. 

“What. The. Hell!” SHit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

You’re quick to scramble away from Owen, butt scooting across the floor to get as far away from him as possible. Owen jumps up, kicking the pants away then realizing that was probably not a smart idea because now he’s half naked in between Ashley and you.  

“Ash I -” 

“You were taking forever, wanted to know why. Thought you said there was nothing between you two?” She’s practically screeching. You know within minutes there will be a crowd. A crowd Owen will not want, his anxiety will not want. Ignoring his stuttering and the conversation in general, you push away the heat in your belly and the tingling in your spine and take a deep breath. 

Deep breath. 

Be a friend. Do your job.

You grab Owen’s clothes and put them in his hands, ignoring his speaking and Ashley ranting, you grab his hand and then hers, and shove them towards the back exit. 

“This is a trailer conversation, not a wardrobe fitting conversation. Leave, now.” 

“No, I have a lot to say -” 

“Listen to me, I’m trying to do my job and not get Owen in trouble. If you really care about him, you’ll take this conversation to his trailer. Now.” Then you shove them out the door before Ashley could screech some more. 

Deep breath. 

Do your job. 

You go back to the fitting area, only to see Charlie, Jer, and Madi standing there, looking confused. 

Deep breath.

Do your job.

“Hey guys. Owen just left. He and Ashley are having a date night.” Charlie gives you a look, but Jer and Madi nod, going to accept it, but Charlie has to open his big dumb Canadian mouth. 

“Why’d we hear screaming then?” Charlie questions. Jer and Madi look at each other, then back at you. 

“Oh, uh, mouse. I saw a mouse. Yep. Mouse. Anyway, I have to get this clothes hung up before they wrinkle, so excuse me.” 

Deep breath. 

Do your job.

You walk around the trio, gathering the suit and shaking everything out as you walk over to the Alex rack to hang them up. You hear the door to the room open and two sets of feet walking out. 

“Charlie, everything is fine okay? Just a little misunderstanding.” 

“Like?” You sigh and turn around from finishing hanging up the clothes. 

“Like...Owen kinda fell and when I went to help him I feel too...on top of him.” There’s silence then, 

“OH MY GOD! Y/N THAT’S LIKE FANFIC SHIT THAT WAS THE MOMENT! DID YOU KISS OH MY GOD TELL ME EVERYTHING!” He’s jumping up and down as he makes his way to you. 

“Ashley walked in.” All excitement stops.

“Oh shit.” You nod, walking past him to settle on the couch, pulling a pillow to your chest. 

“Yeah. And she started screeching and I knew Owen wouldn’t like to attention so I shoved them out the back door to his trailer.” Charlie’s arm goes around you, pulling you close. He goes to say something, but your phone ringing indicating a text from Owen stops him. You pull it out, opening it as Charlie watches over your shoulder. 

My trailer plz. 

Charlie starts shaking your shoulders, smiling like a maniac. “This is your chance Y/N go go GO!” you shake your head at Charlie’s antics, but leave nonetheless. 

Anxiety creeps up on you as you get closer and closer to his trailers, not knowing what you’re going to walk into. Him firing you? Saying you can’t be friends anymore? Ashley ready to claw your face off? 

Deep breath.

Be a friend.

You knock on his door. It opens a second later to a frantic looking Owen. Now you're anxious about him. Why does he look upset? Is he okay? He grabs your hand and pulls you into his, oh, empty trailer. Ashley is nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey, thanks for coming.” You nod, still looking around expecting her to jump out and slap you. “Um, sit. Sit, I have to talk to you about something.” You go to sit on the couch, but then remember what occurred there yesterday and instead lean against the counter. He notices but doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah okay. What’s up?” You try to act nonchalant, but the anxiety is too high for that. ‘I have to talk to you about something’ never ends well. He walks over and sits on the bed pats the spot next to him. God, this can’t be a good conversation if he really wants you to sit. 

“Ashley and I were never...on here.” He mumbles. You walk over and sit next to him, blushing that he caught on to why you didn’t sit on the couch. 

“Must be serious if you need me to sit.” Owen takes a deep breath, another, another, and then there’s lips on your. They’re soft and nice and taste like carmex chapstick. 

“Mhm, Owen, what, what are you doing?” Your faces are still close together, both of you not wanting to back away yet. 

“I’m gonna talk. Okay I’m gonna talk and I want you to listen and not crawl inside your head too soon okay?” You nod, knowing in this moment you’d do anything to keep him this close. 

“I knew Ashley from high school. She started texting me a few weeks back and one thing led to another and she was calling me her boyfriend. I didn’t want it but it happened and I let it because it got my mind off a girl I shouldn’t like because it would ruin so many things. I didn’t know she was coming to visit and when she knocked on my trailer she jumped me and just kept going. And I just went along with everything yesterday because I’m supposed to be her boyfriend and I’m supposed to think about those things with her and I’m supposed to want those things with her, but I don’t Y/N. I don’t want those things with her I never did. I, I want them with you. I’ve wanted them with you from the moment you finally stopped being shy around me and dragged me from crafts by my ear to hair and makeup. You’re so amazing Y/N and I thought if I did anything I’d ruin this and ruin your career and I didn’t want that. I never wanted that so I went along with Ashley but I shouldn’t have because the whole time I was thinking about you. It’s always been -” You kiss him. You grab him by the cheeks and kiss him. It’s a passionate kiss, an ‘about time’ kiss, an ‘i’m never letting you go’ kiss. 

You only break away when you can’t breathe, and even then you only pull away enough to breath in each other’s air. 

“She left. She’s gone. She knew I was never 100% in.” You nod, but you’re not really listening. You can’t hear anything other than your heartbeat. 

He likes you. 

Owen likes you.

Owen kissed you. 

“It’s always been you, Y/N.” You smile. It’s a big one that you have to hamper down by biting your lip. Owen smiles back, then you’re kissing again. 

And again. 

And again.

[y0itsbri]

Falling for You

ballet au one-shot for @gallavichthings 's a.u.gust

summary: dance instructor mickey! ian keeps messing up the lifts with the dancers, and mickey cannot have his girls injured because of this himbo, even if he is hot. he makes ian stay after class to practice on him -- and he swears there's no ulterior motives. but they're so close and his hands are all over him and he can feel his breath and it is so unprofessional but fuck it.

words: 2k

Mickey had a new guy in his class that wasn't doing... well... by any standards. Alright, the dude sucked. Mickey had been a ballet instructor for several years and not once has he met a dancer as uncoordinated and unbalanced as Ian fucking Gallagher.

Somehow, Ian had managed to not only rip the ballet barre off of the goddamn wall in his attempt at a grand plie, fallen flat on his face after pas de chat gone wrong, but he also managed to launch his fellow ballerinas onto the floor instead of the air.

He was a disaster.

Mickey had better shit to do with his time at the studio than patch up his dancers, and studio, after Gallagher's classes. Svetlana's father would have his ass if she got injured on his watch. And Ian being the only guy in their class, there was no way for him not to share the front-and-center spotlight with Svetlana.

Yeah, Mickey wasn't letting Ian any-fucking-where near Svet if he could help it. At least in his current state. Dude was a piece of work.

Mickey figured he would be a lot more upset about all this if Ian's apologetic puppy dog eyes weren't so goddamn convincing.

Fucking Gallagher.

--

"Ayo, Mands! Come help me with this!" Mickey called, echoing in the studio, now nearly empty besides the Milkovich siblings and a six-foot-tall ginger man looking both utterly clueless and utterly terrified. Mickey was utterly hopeless.

Mandy popped in the doorframe, sliding her shoes on but leaving them untied.

"Can't! I got actual shit to do! I don't live and breathe the studio like your sorry ass. No offense, Ian, my brother is great, please stay. Full offense, Mickey, get a fucking life!"

Mickey was left speechless and slightly embarrassed by Mandy's outburst and only managed to flip her off before she was out the door.

"Charming sister you got there," Ian let a quiet laugh slip before schooling his expression at Mickey's lack of amusement.

Mickey sighed and rubbed his hands down the length of his face for a moment. Ian and Mickey held eye contact a bit longer before Mickey abruptly straightened up and clapped his hands together. The noise startled Ian from his own amused trance.

"Alright, Clifford, how do you feel about private lessons for a little bit until you're not tripping over your own feet?"

Ian stepped forward to argue, but, proving Mickey's point, stumbled over the shoes on the floor in front of him. He didn't miss the way that Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side.

"Can't afford extra classes," Ian shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"It's on me," Mickey swiped his top lip. He didn't miss the way that Ian's gaze lingered on his mouth,"Kinda need you..." really want you, "to, uh, look good..." as if he doesn't already, fucking red-headed alien-looking motherfucker, "on the floor..." of my bedroom, goddamn it, Mick, get it together! "the, uh, dance floor."

Ian paused, considering the way that Mickey was stumbling over his words in a way that one might call endearing, another might call the-worst-fucking-experience-of-his-life.

"I'll do it."

Do me. Seriously, go drink some water, oh my god.

Mickey literally took a sip from his water bottle, hoping that it would at least calm his nerves. He was a professional!

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You free after class?" A pause, "To work on some skills, I mean."

"It's a date," Ian smirked, leaning down to pick up his shoes from the ground in front of him. By the time he was upright again, Mickey had already started walking away, but the blush on his cheeks and the back of his neck could be spotted from a mile away. He was utterly fucked.

--

Mickey yawned and got up from his stretching position on the floor. He walked over to the stereo, systematically knocking his dancer's feet on his way over until they were all turned out and pointed.

"No Orange Boy today?" Svetlana asked, meeting Mickey's eyes with a challenging stare.

Mickey ignored the chorus of "He's so hot!" "Have you seen his arms?" and "Ian's the nicest!" from the rest of the girls.

Svetlana raised her eyebrow in question and Mickey's defenses flew out the window. This goddamn power dynamic was going to be the death of him.

"I put him on private lessons until he's no longer a disruption to the class," he shrugged.

"Aww," one brunette pouted.

"Disruption to class or disruption to tiny bulge in your pants?" Svetlana smirked, earning some scandalized gasps from the other dancers.

Mickey flipped her off, "The fucker made me take out a greater insurance policy with all his accidents, don't be fucking absurd."

A blonde nodded understandingly from the back of the class, "My ankle is still a little funky from the last lift we tried."

Mickey held his arms out in a display of I-told-you-so and Svetlana rolled her eyes.

"Great!" Mickey clapped his hands together, earning the full attention of his class as they hurried to their feet, "Now that all the hot drama is outta the air, let's do a quick warm up combo across the floor. Chasse step pas de bourree double pirouette step arabesque, in 5, 6, 7, 8..."

--

Ian had been waiting outside the studio for the last ten minutes of class, more-so watching his instructor shift around than paying attention to what the dancers were actually doing. That's probably what got him into his current predicament, and he couldn't decide whether that was a curse or a blessing. Mickey's arms flexed as he pointed across the room to call out someone's weak spot.

Yup, it was a blessing.

Oh shit, Mickey was looking his way. Was this a double sided mirror? No, of course not. Why would there be a double sided mirror? Oh, Mickey was definitely staring at him. Fuck. Wait, did he just wink? No way, he must've just blinked. With one eye. Yeah, totally normal. Nothing to overthink, Ian.

Get it together!

--

Mickey dismissed his class five minutes early and it had nothing to do with the Jolly Ginger Giant standing outside his studio.

While most of his dancers wordlessly accepted the easy out, Svetlana stayed back to taunt. "Have fun with private lessons," she sneered, jerking off an invisible cock.

"Choke on it," Mickey retorted tossing her warm-up jacket at her face, which she swiftly caught.

Svetlana turned and made a show of looking Ian up and down, his cheeks turning pink under her intense gaze. She faced Mickey head on, "You will be vegetable stew by the time this man is done with you."

The fuck does that mean?

Sometimes Mickey thought that Svetlana spoke in riddles just to mess with him. He blamed it on the Russian accent, never mind he was part Ukrainian himself. The languages were similar, but not identical, fuck you very much.

But, damn, forget that, Gallagher looked good. He was wearing his usual white tank top and grey sweatpants, but Mickey never got the opportunity to openly ogle in class. Not that that was what he was doing now.

Ian returned the long look appreciatively before stepping closer and Mickey snapped back into professionalism, well as far as professionalism goes, Milkovich-style.

He turned his back on the bane of his pathetic existence and snapped a quick but polite, "Get your shoes on and we can get started."

"Oh, right."

That seemed to be enough to get the gears in Ian's head going again as he dropped his bag to the floor, echoing in the truly empty studio, and dropping down onto the floor himself to secure his ballet shoes, which may as well be clown shoes for as big as his feet were. Mickey fit into the same brand as the girls, but he had to order special for Gallagher.

"Thanks for doing this, Mickey."

Mickey. The way that this man said his name was making him feel all sorts of flustered that he would most definitely deny.

"Mandy said you don't usually make exceptions."

"Gotta catch you up to speed or you're gonna be dancing with the 5 year-olds, man."

Ian tilted his head considering.

Mickey frowned, "Don't do it."

Ian smirked and Mickey had to look away as a grin and blush creeped up on his own face.

"Alright, so we'll start you off with the basics."

Mickey went through their normal class routine, but broke it down slowly, pausing to explain certain positions in details he couldn't afford to spend time with in class, specifically how not to fall. It should have been fairly obvious in his opinion, but Ian still managed somehow. The first few times, he was on the floor before Mickey even knew he was going down.

But the third, Mickey made a mistake. Mickey instinctively reached out to catch him.

As soon as he realized where his hands were, he pulled them off like he'd been burned, which he may have well been. He pulled his gaze to his feet, studying the floor while he composed himself.

"Mickey," Ian waited until he looked up, and then he spoke so quietly, "You can touch me."

And what made things worse was that Ian's dazzling eyes left little to the imagination. They both knew where this was going, and the moment was too intense too quick. The longer their eyes held, the hotter Mickey felt his neck grow.

"Ya know," Ian stepped closer. "To fix my positions..."

Mickey swallowed, "Uh, I think we're done for today."

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. He never meant them to begin with. But if Ian stayed any longer, Mickey was going to climb him like a tree and that really wasn't under his personal code of professionalism, no matter how loose those terms may be to begin with. It was getting late anyways, he reasoned with himself.

"What about the lifts? That's the important part, right?" Ian questioned, eyes pleading like he would die without this one skill being taught to him by his oh-so-unprofessional instructor.

Mickey sighed. Ya know what? Fuck it.

Mickey sauntered over to Ian, pressed his back to Ian's front, and grabbed one of Ian's massive hands and placed it on his own waist.

Ian gave an experimental squeeze and Mickey softened in his grip.

Ridiculous.

"We're not doing the lift are we?" Ian murmured breathily, hot air making the hairs on the back of Mickey's neck tingle.

"What do you think, Firecrotch?" Mickey pushed his weight back into Ian's chest, which would be the second mistake of the day.

Ian toppled over backwards, landing with a painful sounding thud and sending Mickey down on top of him before he rolled off the the side with a groan.

Ian started laughing and Mickey was concerned. Was this idiot actually fucking concussed this time? He wasn't sure how he would explain this to his insurance company.

Mickey straddled Ian's lap, gently slapping his face, "Are you good, man? Alive?"

"Never better." Ian was still smiling like an absolute goof.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in concern.

"Seriously, I just can't play things cool," Ian raised his hips to grind against Mickey's ass, "Obviously."

"You're an idiot," Mickey rolled his eyes, and all Ian could do was grin and reach up towards Mickey's neck, pulling his down until their lips almost touched, sharing breaths and excitement.

"Maybe," another breath, "But I still got you to fall for me."

It was Mickey's turn to laugh, more of a raspy exhale than anything. His "fuck you" was almost lost between them as they fell together at last.

(side note: this was the lift that they were going to do, so i feel like the hand on the waist makes sense -- gotta have a visual lmao)

[winterscaptain]

inherited.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this popped into my head fully formed. when i thought too hard about it, i cried. It’s sweet. enjoy! tell me what you think! this takes place in au!october 2022

words: 2k warnings: language, tooth-rotting fluff

summary: “i don’t have stepchildren, i have children who happened to be born before i met them.” – unknown

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You’re laid out flat on the bed, tooling around on your phone, when Jack comes in, gets a running start, and flops onto the bed beside you. His feet hang off the opposite side yours do, your heads close together. 

Elliot and the girls are napping the early afternoon away, Jack had an early-release day from school, Aaron’s taking a half-day, and Isaac’s still stuck on that 750-piece puzzle on your office floor. You left one of the baby monitors in the nursery and one with him, just in case. The faint, staticky sound of him talking to himself grumbles through the little speaker on Aaron’s bedside table.

Jack doesn’t say anything, but pulls his phone out and starts doing whatever newly-minted seventeen-year-olds do on his phone beside you. 

You, on the other hand, need to take care of an email from Aaron.

To: hotchner2@fbi.justice.gov From: hotchner@fbi.justice.gov

CC: prentiss@fbi.justice.gov

SSA Hotchner, 

See attached for your quarterly performance evaluation from your supervisor, BAU Unit Chief SSA Emily Prentiss, cc’d here. Please direct any questions or concerns to SSA Prentiss. 

Best, SSA Aaron Hotchner, J.D. Northeast Investigations and Operations Support Section Chief Quantico, VA

P.S. Leaving the office in 30. See you soon xx

You draft a quick reply and send it. 

To: hotchner@fbi.justice.gov From: hotchner2@fbi.justice.gov

Received. 

Thanks, Hotch. 

Best, SSA _______ Hotchner Behavioral Analysis Unit, Quantico, VA

P.S. Come in quietly thru the garage - C, S, E are still out.

With a roll of your eyes, you put your phone down and take a moment to look at Jack. 

He’s nearly a man, the baby fat falling from his jaw and cheekbones, getting taller by the day. Much to Aaron’s chagrin, they’re about the same height now. 

Jack’s eyes flicker from his phone and meet yours for a split second. “What?”

“Just lookin’ at you.”

A little puff of a laugh leaves his nose. “Why?”

One side of your mouth lifts. “I know you’re tired of hearing this, but if you ever have kids of your own, you’ll get it.” 

He hums, tossing his phone onto the pillow behind him. “Well, yeah. I got that, but why?”

You roll onto your side, curling your legs fully onto the bed. It’s a good question, and one for which you’re not sure you have an answer. Thinking for a moment, you sigh. “So, with you, for example. I can’t really put it into words, but you’re a bit of a miracle.” 

He squints (just like Aaron) and you continue. 

“I have the privilege of being your mom, which is a title that isn’t really mine.” You tuck the inside of your lip between your teeth, trying to figure out how to articulate it. 

It’s not that I don't want to be your mom but in the world where I’m not your mom, Haley is still here.

But there are some days I miss her so much I wish I didn’t have to be your mom. She was always going to be ‘mom.’

But then it’s the best thing in the world to be your mom and I wouldn’t want it any other way…

Fuck. 

You start slow. “It’s a bit of a bittersweet thing. I never expected to be ‘mom’ to you while Haley was alive. No matter what would have or could have happened between your dad and me, Haley is your mom. So, the knowledge that we’re here - you and I, in this house with your brothers and sisters and your dad, the way we are - is very much grounded in Haley’s absence.” 

You shake your head, realizing you’re getting off topic. “All this to say, it’s a bit of a miracle that I get to be your mom, and not just mom to those other little gremlins infesting this house.” 

You both smile. 

“And sometimes, I just need to stare at you, make sure you’re real, and sit in that kind of...feeling that I can’t quite articulate.” 

Jack’s been listening the whole time, his brown eyes soft and open. “I think I get that. It makes sense - even if you and Dad still got married and had more kids, Haley would be ‘Mom’ and you would be...something else.” 

You smile a little. “I guess you could say I inherited the title, in some ways.” 

“That’s a good way to put it.” His eyes wander up to the ceiling, pensive. 

“You know, I can’t remember a time when you weren’t around. Like, not every memory has you in it because you weren’t always there, but...there isn’t a single, like, phase of my life when you weren’t in it.” 

It's your turn to listen. 

“And I don’t remember my mother very well. You and Dad always made sure I knew who she was - I feel like I know everything about her, but like…” He trails off for a second before looking back at you. “She still feels like a stranger, a little bit.” 

You nod. “Someone distant, maybe?”

“Yeah. Like I feel connected to her and everything but you’re my mom. You’ve always been that person for as long as I can remember. I can’t imagine anything else.” He shakes his head a little. “It wouldn’t be right to call you anything else.”

A shaky breath leaves you through your mouth, unexpected tears springing into your eyes. Since you’re on the deep end of the conversation pool, you switch gears a little. “Is it ever weird? Having the little ones around? Your dad and I having more kids?” 

He immediately shakes his head. “Nah. I can really remember when it was just the two of us - me ‘n Dad - and then then three of us after that one Christmas. But I don’t really miss it? Like, sometimes it gets so fucking loud in this house -”

“Language,” you chastise. It’s weak, at best. 

He snorts, revising. “Sometimes, it gets really loud in this house and I have those moments of like, ‘oh my god why are they so loud why can’t it just be me and Mom and Dad again,’ but they never last long.” He laughs a little. “Like right now, they’re just in the other room napping and I miss them.” 

“You know when you laugh like that you look just like your mother?”

That sunshine smile breaks across his face again. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You reach out to him, brushing the apple of his cheek with the side of your finger - just a second, just an affectionate little bit of contact. His smile gets wide enough that you’re treated to one dimple. “But those,” you poke the little indent by the corner of his mouth and he screws his face up. “Those are all your dad’s.”

Jack grows pensive again. “Dad said he’d tell me about the divorce if I wanted to ask.” 

Many of your conversations bounce around like this. Fifteen years of life together make up for seemingly contextless non-sequiturs. You know, just like you do with Aaron, he has more to say. 

You wait him out.

“If I asked, would you tell me?”

With a sigh, “I can tell you how it was for me as their friend, but I won’t speak for Dad or Haley.” 

Jack nods, understanding. “What was it like? Like, the...actual divorce? Did you get caught in the middle?”

“It sucked. It really sucked, but no, I never got caught up in it that way. Sure, they vented to me about each other after it was all over - which,” you add, “by the way, was its own form of comedy.” 

That gets a smile out of Jack.

“But they never asked me to tell them they were right or made me feel like I had to choose a side. I would have hated to become a carrier pigeon for their bullshit.” With a chuckle: That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Ah yeah, miscommunication as a plot device. We covered that in English last semester.” 

You laugh. “Exactly. Even then, though, they loved each other so much and they both tried their hardest to make it work, but couldn’t.” 

Jack’s thinking again, looking more and more pressed by the minute as he stares at the ceiling. 

“What?” You ask. 

“I just -” His mouth presses into a thin line, revealing a dimple, and you thank your lucky stars you love Aaron as much as you do because right now, you’re looking at his clone. “I just...I’m trying to think of something that could, like, break you and Dad up...but I literally can’t think of anything. You guys just work.” 

He’s thinking out loud, finding the question as he goes. You let him. “Even as mad as you get at each other sometimes, I’ve never been afraid. Even when you’re upset with each other you’re still...I dunno...like, two parts of the same person?” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, my love, it does. Your father and I…” 

You sigh, knowing you’re exposing yourself for the person you are, instead of hiding behind your role as a parent.

“...we need each other too much, perhaps to a fault. He’s my favorite person and my biggest weakness. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for him, and I know he’s the same way about me.” You pause. “We don’t really know how not to be a team.”

Jack’s seen that in them almost all his life. It doesn't surprise him. He’s not sure he believes in soulmates, but he’d imagine you and Aaron are pretty damn close. 

His mouth twists. “I’d imagine a lot of people feel that way until the shit hits the fan.” 

You nod, your head wavering from side to side. “Well...yeah. Not everyone feels that way about their spouse, though.”

“Sure,” he relents, looking a bit like a lawyer. “But if they do, how do you get to that place where you call it quits, you know? How do you decide you don’t need each other or love each other? And how do you know who’s wrong?”

Good question. 

“I mean, it’s less about who’s wrong, and more about who’s right that causes all the trouble, I think, at least from an outside perspective. With your parents, they were both right in a lot of ways.”

You think for a minute, changing directions a bit. “When there are two right answers that are mutually exclusive, there’s not much you can do. Nobody’s wrong - everyone just wants what they want, and there isn’t a clear compromise. Sometimes, the compromise is too much...So, you can still love each other but not be married, like your dad and Haley.” 

“Your mom left,” you continue, “because she reached a breaking point. Her needs and your dad’s needs were mutually exclusive - no compromise existed. And, again, in a lot of ways, they were both right.” 

You shrug, admitting, “They both made bad choices and mistakes in that process, but nobody was the bad guy. In some ways, that’s harder. You love them, but you can’t have them in your life in that way.”

His face clears up. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. Like, I’m thinking about friends and stuff - how some friends are really great outside of school but I would never want to do a group project with them - but for...you know, marriage.” 

You laugh. “Yeah, it’s a lot like that. And you were just about the only thing your parents could agree on at any given time.” 

“Really?”

“Yep. They love you, and always want what’s best for you.” Your eyes flicker to the photo on Aaron’s dresser - the one of you and Haley and Jack nearly fifteen years ago, sandwiching his cheeks in kisses. “When you’re a good parent with that kind of mindset, it’s easy to work as a team for your children.”

“Like you and Dad.” 

“Like me and Dad.” 

Jack quiets for a minute. “Can I tell you something?”

You turn toward him, reaching kind of up and away for his hand. Your clasped fingers end up between your faces. “Always, my love.”

“Sometimes...Sometimes, I wish I looked more like you.” 

Your brow pinches. “Why?” The question is soft, all curiosity. 

“I dunno? I think I just like, want to resemble you because you’re my mom, you know?”

You let out a laugh. “Jack you have no idea. You should ask your father how much you resemble me.”

He shakes his head, a confused little smile on his face. “I don’t get it.” 

“You have picked up eighty percent of my mannerisms and it drives your dad up the wall.” You sit up, releasing his hand and ruffling his soft dark hair as you pretzel-cross your legs. “So if we’re going by his book, you inherited plenty from me. In fact, more than enough.”

“Alright, see, now that makes sense.” Jack sits up across from you right as the door from the garage opens. 

You both wait, quiet, with little smiles on your faces, listening to his car keys hit the kitchen counter (and slide a little - he tossed them), the short walk to his office where he sets his briefcase down and removes his suit jacket (to be hung up later, if he remembers). You can hear him travel to your office, checking on Isaac and looking for you, before taking the stairs two at a time to the baby’s room. 

Jack looks over his shoulder and you follow his gaze, tuned into the baby monitor. There’s a shaky kind of sigh that crackles through the speaker, and you can almost see him reaching into the crib. 

“If he wakes that baby up,” you say, dead serious, “I’ll kill him.”

Jack sniffs, all business. “I’ll grab the shovel and trash bags and you drive, yeah?”

You offer your hand. Jack shakes on it before dissolving into a fit of conspiratorial giggles. He falls into you, turning so his back is against your chest and his head tipped back against your shoulder.

It’s moments like this where he feels five years old again. 

As big as he is and as much of a shit as he can be, he’s still the same boy.  

The pair of you are so caught up in your own private joke that you don’t hear Aaron as he crosses the house and leans on the door jamb. When you both catch sight of him, it only makes you laugh harder. You wrap your arms around Jack, trapping him close to you as you hook your chin over his shoulder. 

He’s examining you both, brow a little furrowed, mouth a little open in an almost-smile. He’s seen the Mom and Jack Show before - it’s a series that started about ten years ago with about a thousand episodes and no cancellation in sight. “What on earth are you two doing in here?”

Jack drops into a deadpan. “Hypothetically plotting your demise for the hypothetical instance that you hypothetically wake Elliot and hypothetically deprive Mom of her hypothetical peace and quiet.”

Aaron nods, as if deeply considering it. “I see. Well, luckily, we’ve narrowly avoided that hypothetical scenario.”

You smile at him. “So thus, you live another day. Congratulations.” 

Aaron breaks with a smile, his commitment to the bit evaporating in the presence of two of his favorite faces. He toes off his shoes and crosses to you both, still all wrapped up and letting little laughs escape. He kisses Jack on the head and you lightly on the lips before flopping down on his back with a satisfied sigh.

You share a devious glance with Jack. Aaron throws a pillow over his face, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah, alright, you two. That’s enough.” 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @cevanswhre @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @spencerelds @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43

[goldenlaquer]

oh shit I didn't mean to press send so early

uH Abuto breeding kink but uh reader's been trying to flirt with him all day but he couldn't get out of work because of The Menace, Kamui?

man oh man, it’s been a long while, hasn’t it? lemme me pour all the repressed feelings for Mr. A here. AFC meeting, start!

Abuto NSFW Headcanons: 

Abuto doesn’t remember picking up another brat along the way. 

Brat #1 was his fault, he can readily admit. The mile-long stacks of paperwork that precariously perch on top of his desk now? He had it coming. It’s a punishment of his own making that started all those years ago, from the first moment he stuck his meddling nose in between something that ought to have made its natural course. The overtime of today (and the many other days that will surely succeed it) is his penance, and Abuto, though indirectly (and rather unwillingly actually, but hey, who’s keeping track?), had signed up for it.

But Brat #2. No matter how much he scratches at his mug, he sure as hell didn’t ever sign up for a second one to come pattering into his office like she owns it, his shirt and nothing else hanging loosely over her shoulders like a trophy and a jaunty smile on her lips like no one else’s business. You demand (your exact words) that he gets some rest, that the work can wait (it really can’t) and that he must return himself back to you (shit, he wants to). 

The first time, it’s adorable. It makes him break out into a grin and chuckle. It gives his tired geezer eyes a reprieve from black and white and numbers as they sweep down from your wiggling toes up to the where your naked thighs disappear under his shirt. It stirs his dick with interest, however: Tempting as it is, sweetheart, Abuto regretfully shrugs at you, humorously wagging his brows to soothe the no, but these papers don’t do themselves. 

The second time, it’s still adorable. You pop your head in, playfully licking your lips, and tell him that you want his tender love and care, please, and while he wants nothing more, nothing more, to take you on that offer, the work is never-ending, and if he does them now then he’ll have so much more time to spend with you later. Surely you’re not that antsy to waste time with an ossan right? Abuto jokes. Patience!

Your wishes for him gradually grow more humble in the third, fourth, and fifth. You walk in, ask him to indulge in you, let you take care of him like he needs to be taken care of, or at the very least, maybe you can give him something to eat? And the every time that he has to double down and say no to that... well, it might just make him go and give Brat #1 a deserving knuckle-sandwich. 

The sixth is where everything cracks. Makes him snap his pen and make the ink run down his fingers. It ruins a document as he watches how his rejection all day has given you no choice but resort to desperate measures. 

You brace against the closed door, shaky legs spread wide apart as far as it can go without compromising the support. His shirt bunched up and cinched by the side of your arms, showing off the view of your sopping cunt, three fingers snugly buried in, a thumb rubbing frantically at your swollen clit. 

“Y-you promised, “ you stutter off into a gasping mewl, jerking your chin further in, dew clinging to your lashes as you move your trembling hand. “Y-y-you p-promised. You, you said only t-three, three more h-h-hours—” 

Yes, Abuto vaguely remembers that he did promise something like that, three hours ago. A promise he’s failed to keep, because there’s so much he has to do still. 

Your hands speed up and your knees begins to dangerously buckle. A wretched cry spilling past your lips. You’re so, so close. He can tell. You’re about to finish what he couldn’t, taking matters into your hands because he was too busy and you were too impatient to simply wait. You do it in front of him as a punishment, trying to give yourself a good time  while he’s working his ass off for you. 

Abuto doesn’t raise his voice in anger often and he doesn’t do it now either, but the “Don’t.” that hisses out between his teeth has all the impact and intensity of it. The harsh sound hangs in the air between you. Mercifully your hands still, the chase to a paltry orgasm forgotten. Your eyes widen in surprise, shiny and doe-like. 

The desk is perfectly split into two. Wood and paper rain down, hours of meticulous, hard work littering the ground. And Abuto walks through the carnage; he’s past caring. 

Sweetheart, Darling, Doll. Brat. The petnames that he uses for you, breathed hotly against your mouth while he backs you up further against the door, easily swinging your legs around his waist and pushing your hips up and up until your quivering pussy is dragged against the front of his open pants, his thick length catching on your soft lips. Your hands scrabble across his chest, breathing hard in excitement, kneading as his shoulders. There’s a flash of emotion across your pretty face. Victory. Abuto growls, inflamed by the audacity. You really have too much time on your hands, don’t you? Must be nice. Maybe he’s been spoiling you too much, readily giving in to what you want, whenever and wherever you want it. Because the moment that he directs his attention elsewhere, you suddenly don’t know how to act right. 

Or is it because of something else? Is this what it is? His cockhead bobs against your clenching hole, and he has to quell the faint surprise as he’s practically sucked in. He bends his head to look at where you connect, at the absolute mess of a state your cunt is in, folds dripping and your clit red and engorged. You can’t even keep a squeeze on him more than 2 seconds, your walls anxiously contracting around him like it’s afraid that he’ll leave. He hasn’t done a single thing to warrant this reaction and you’re already desperate. Too desperate. Somehow, Abuto tells you, he thinks that this goes way beyond you just missing him. 

I-it’s just... it’s just... I don’t know. You’ve been caught, and you try to avoid answering by thunking your head against the door behind you, struggling to keep yourself from bursting around the seams as you adjust to the delicious throbs of cock in you. 

Ah, no. He’s sure that you do know. A big hand slithers under his shirt, palming your sensitive tummy. What’s the matter? What’s got you acting this way? Abuto, damn him, takes a softer approach, beguiling his tone and rubbing his thumb in comfort on your skin. He can take care of it. You know he can always take care of you.

Of course, it works. You can’t help the shaky jolts of your hips as you disclose the reason, burrowing his cock in deeper as you tell him how you’ve been worked up all day, thinking about just how much you wanted to be full with him, how much you wanted to spread your thighs for him as he takes his reward for all the hard work he’s been doing for you, reaping his benefits again and again, round after round, until you’re dripping his seed down your thighs, and until your tummy feels full. 

“A-a-and...” You make bashful eye-contact with him then. “M-maybe... after.... I-I’ll be full with something else too.” 

oh. fuck.

Abuto is completely stopped in his tracks. Not his first time with you, honestly. But the shy confession that you’ve been trying to get him to stop work just so he can fuck a baby into you, make you all nice and soft and plump with his kid, is something— something else. 

Abuto wasn’t lying when he said he can take care of it, of you, but it’s not you that’s been spoiled, it’s him who was slacking. Clearly, he was doing something wrong if you’re the one who has to come forward and ask him for something he already should’ve been doing in the first place. 

You whimper in panic as his cock swells up further, pushing against your tight hole beyond what it’s usually put through. His grip on you tightens to almost-pain, and you feel a hot tongue lick at the sweat misting your temples. He starts moving again, shoving up deeper into sensitive flesh that your previous weaker attempts couldn’t reach. 

Abuto apologizes. For the lost time. And for making you wait. He’ll make it up to you, with Brat #3. 

[whenimaunicorn]

The Split

The Mandalorian x female Reader

(gif contributed by @bennskywalker​) (much love and undying gratitude to @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ for constant cheerleading, support, and beta services, and saving me every time I felt stuck on a scene; and also to @cptnbvcks​ for indulging the Big Meat headcanon and guaranteeing it’s happening in all my fics)

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: choking, spanking, dominance/submission, threats during intimacy, rough sex Words: 8478

Summary: The Reader is a fellow Nevarran bounty hunter, working with the Mandalorian to catch a quarry and splitting the reward. They keep renegotiating the split until passions spark and other, kinkier interests start slipping out.

Full Fic:

There’s one thing you can appreciate about working with the Mandalorian: he sure knows how to be terrifying to his quarry. It’s not about bluster with him, or wild threats that can make a hunter seem unhinged; it’s in his sheer presence. He’s caught up to the quarry you’ve been tracking together, and now he looms over his prey like he’s inevitable.

‘Course, you’d never let him know he even made you shiver. “Enough with the dramatics,” you say to him, coming up behind the cowering bounty and yanking her arms together behind her back. “I’m the one that got her blaster out of her hand, and that’s the hardest part. Once they’re disarmed it’s all over. That ups my cut to 70%.”

A frustrated little hiss emanates from your business partner. He points that looming mask more squarely at you. “Fifty-five was what we agreed,” he says, words clipped. “And that was only because you had the specific location—”

“Without which your schedule wouldn’t have been worth shit,” you finish for him, pressing the binder around your quarry’s wrists. At least, the metal cuff clicks shut around one of them…

Suddenly the woman is whirling around, slamming the solid metal of the binder, hanging off just one wrist, right into your stomach.

You try to grab her but the momentum is not in your favor, especially with the wind knocked squarely out of your gut. You brace your hands on your knees, willing yourself not to fall completely down as you fight the pain, not in front of Mando, and manage to suck in a decent breath as you look up with involuntary tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

Just in time to see the Mandalorian grab the woman by the throat, stopping her escape in its tracks. He shoves her to her knees, bristling with frank irritation, and presses the muzzle of his blaster to the side of her skull. “Stay down.”

You stagger one step in their direction. Your gut hurts just about as much as your pride.

You can’t see a smirk on that cold metal face, but you know there has to be one as he looks over at you. “What were you saying about the hard part of the job being over? I’ll take that seventy.”

“This gets you maybe an extra five,” you wheeze, stomping to the quarry kneeling at his feet and jamming her other hand into the binder where it belongs. “And you’re forgetting that I was the one that noticed her sneaking out that hatch in the back.”

Another one of his annoying silences follows, the one where he stands so still and makes you wait, just guessing what thoughts might be bouncing around inside the helmet. “And she’s going back in my ship. My fuel, my carbonite. I’ll take sixty.”

You huff.

“You’re the one that started this. I would have been fine with the original agreement.”

You roll your eyes. “We’ll talk about it after she’s loaded in.”

“Up,” the Mandalorian barks at the quarry, digging those orange-tipped fingers into the cloth covering her shoulder and hauling her to her feet.

The woman complies, looking defeated, and you all start walking across the plateau toward where the Razor Crest has been hidden. Mando’s been in the game too long to pay docking fees at an official spaceport on a planet so chaotic that you can get away without.

Soon enough, the quarry says what everyone with a price on their head says, once the binders are tight around their wrists. “You know, you two really don’t have to worry about your split. Just let me get back to my guys, I can pay you each as much as that whole price on my head.”

You snort. “If that were true, we wouldn’t have found you working in such a shit-hole. No way the syndicate values you that much.”

“I seem to recall a story about you taking up a quarry on an offer like that once,” Mando’s modulator emits at you. He slows his pace so he can see your face as the three of you trudge across the uneven ground. “Didn’t it end with another Guild member finding you stripped and tied up in a cellar? That would have been a sight to see.”

“I heard that story too,” you shoot back. “Wasn’t me. But if you want to see me like that, Mando, maybe you can try to play your cards right a little later…” you force your mouth to close. Not the most well-thought-out comeback. Nor the kind of thing to say if you want a fellow Hunter’s respect. Which you do. It’s just that there’s something about the Mandalorian that’s damned enticing, that makes you wonder if he ever loosens up even a little, lets anyone touch the warm body that’s gotta be somewhere underneath all that armor.

“I know a good hotel in the East Quarter,” the quarry pipes up before Mando gives you a response, “soft mattresses, and real good soundproofing in the walls. Maybe you two need to work out some of this sexual tension before taking me back to the ship? You can just stick me in another room until you’re done.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d just twiddle your thumbs and wait real nice for us.” You stick your blaster into her ribs and prod her to move faster, just for being annoying. “Sweet of you to be so generous, but don’t worry. He and I’ll have plenty of privacy while you’re stashed away in carbonite for the ride to Nevarro.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet turns toward you sharply.

“What? It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mando, but I always collect in-person. I’m riding with you.”

  Mando’s ship is a real bare-bones operation; it’s not much more than a cargo hold and a cockpit. It’s almost enough to make you regret insisting on coming along. You can’t find a spot to get comfortable in, and there’s nothing to do. Mando’s not helping; he’s been sitting at the controls of the ship, back perfectly straight, since take-off. The course has already been set; the eerie lines of hyperspace are streaking by, and there’s nothing in this cockpit that actually requires his attention unless something goes wrong.

“So… what do you usually do while you’re in hyperspace?” you finally ask, slouching against the cockpit wall.

Mando’s hands turn palm up. “This.”

“You serious?”

He shrugs. “Good time to meditate.”

You look out at the rushing stars. “You have got to be kidding me. I’d go completely crazy in about five minutes.”

“You probably would,” he says. So calm, so matter-of-fact.

You look down at him sharply. He hasn’t moved a muscle, though he could be looking at you sideways through his visor and you’d never know. Infuriating. You plop down into the seat behind him. “You don’t think I’m capable of being quiet?”

“I’ve never known you to be.”

You flip your hair. “Some of us have a thing called ‘people skills.’ But it doesn’t look like they cover that in Mandalorian school.”

Now he turns his face toward yours. “Is that what you think you have.”

You nod, stifling the quick words that heat up your tongue so you can prove how quiet you can be.

“I’ve seen you try to get free drinks from soldiers that haven’t had shore leave in months, and still not be able to seal the deal.”

Mando? Teasing you? That’s new. You scoff at the accusation. “You just left too early. You would have seen where that night went. Try loosening up a little sometimes.”

Another silence. Then he swivels away from you, back to his perfect posture. “No thanks.”

“What are you jealous?”

The stack of armor in the pilot’s seat gives you no reaction at all.

You exhale loudly. “You know, I always thought you must have had some other kind of life to go back to, the way you drop those pucks off with Karga and never stick around.” You glance down the ladder at the empty cargo hatch, thinking of the junky little cot you saw crammed into a closet down there. “But you really live like this? Nothing but work for you, huh. Is that what it takes to be the best hunter in the sector?”

His helmet moves a fraction in your direction. “At least you can admit it.”

Your face gets hot. You did not mean to give that to him. “Some people say that about you.” You cross your arms, trying to get more comfortable by throwing your feet up on the control panel to his left.

He rolls his neck, beskar facing pointedly at your feet until you huff and move them.

Your frustration cracks into all-out mockery. “Ooh,” you blurt out in a sing-song voice, “I’m Mando, when I’m not hunting I sit perfectly straight and stare into space; my capture rate is near-perfect because I never sleep and guns are my religion.”

His helmet tilts above his metal-encased shoulder, dangerously close to actually looking at you again. “If you’re going to keep running your mouth like that, I can think of a few ways to make you shut up.”

It takes you a moment to recover from the rush that shoots through your body, a confusing mix of adrenaline and frank arousal as he speaks to you with the tone he usually reserves for quarries. Then you bark out a laugh. “Mando! Did you just make a dirty joke?”

Slowly he swivels the chair toward you, until he’s facing you squarely with his legs spread and fists on his knees. “I suppose you could take it that way.”

And then he just sits there, staring at you, as you decide which way to take it. Was he trying to say he hadn’t meant it as a come-on? That you’re the only one here with a dirty mind, that immediately imagined him shoving his cock down your throat? Fuck. Or does he want you to take it that way, to climb into his lap and sit your ass down on the battered metal plate covering his thigh…

You have to shake your head a little to make the thoughts stop. That is so not what he means. “You’re just mad that we make a great team,” you say, standing up and grinning, trying a new tactic. “That after almost bungling the hunt today,” the helmet cocks sharply at that accusation, “you realize that you need me. I’ve got skills you can’t even come close to.”

It’s hard to determine what sound comes out of his modulator, but you think it’s a snort. “What are you talking about.”

“My aforementioned people skills, for a start. Don’t forget I was the one that took in that warlord on Strigoth by getting him to follow me out to the edge of town without any of his guards. Not everything has to be a shootout. And I knew the quarry today was going to run before you did.”

Mando crosses his arms over his chestplate. “Keep telling yourself that. I’m still not raising your percentage.”

“I can hack any security system since the final Imperial update release, which is most of them in the Rim, and on top of all that”—you swing your left hand in like you’re going to slap him upside the helmet, and when he lifts his arm to block, you smack him over the ear with your right—“I’m faster than you.”

You jump back instantly, not sure how he’s going to react. His body tenses up into a fighter’s crouch, starting to come up out of the chair toward you. Then he sits back down, body language deliberately relaxing. He adjusts his helmet with one hand. “You’re a child.”

“I call it playful,” you shoot back, the adrenaline rush of what you just did almost making you giggle. “Another asset you seem to be lacking.”

He only shrugs in response, then swivels back to facing the oncoming stars.

He’s given you an opening that’s impossible to resist. As soon as his back is turned you swing your open hand forward. He’s ready for it, which you basically expected, and he knocks your arm away before you can make contact with his helmet this time. And ouch, that gauntlet of his jars your forearm all the way to the bone. You make a frustrated little noise. “Well, if you want to stick to business, we still have to talk about the final terms of the split. We can go back to 55-45, if you admit that today I had the superior skills.”

“With you taking the forty-five?”

“Hell no.”

He pauses, and you think he’s about to say something mature and reasonable, like he always does. Instead, he comes back with a very calmly-worded: “I could put you out the airlock right now.”

You swear there’s a wry little tone to that modulated voice. “You’d have to catch me first”—you slap the bucket on his head again—“and we’ve already determined I’m faster than you.”

“Stop that,” he growls, finally standing up. His cloak swirls dramatically and you try to suppress the primal feelings that make you a little weak in the knees when he comes up to his full height in such close quarters.

“Make me.” The words are out of your mouth before you can decide if they’re really such a good idea.

The Mandalorian’s helmet tilts. Now it’s his turn to try and work out what you may or may not be implying. When he finally speaks, there’s a new tone in his voice, one that catches something deep in your belly and drags. “You think you can take me?”

…Can you? You may be as good a Hunter as he is, but you couldn’t say unarmed combat is one of your strong suits. And you don’t even want to think about how much he out-weighs you, especially with all that armor on. But how can you possibly eat your pride and back down after you’ve provoked this?

You look around the tiny space of the Razor Crest’s cockpit. Mando’s helmet stays squarely aimed at your face.

“A lot of expensive equipment in here,” you say casually. “Wouldn’t want to damage anything throwing down right now.”

“Mm-hmm.” His skeptical hum makes the modulator crackle. Did he just lean in closer?

At this point the sexual tension is thrumming like a mis-firing engine in the space between you. If he had a face you could read, a mouth you could tilt your face up and kiss, you’d know what to do, but this? Even your renowned ‘people skills’ are failing you now.

You look away from the impassive, dark lens that covers his eyes, and that’s when he retaliates. One heavy gloved hand whips around your side and thuds a stinging strike right into your ass. The impact knocks you forward, almost into his chest, but you stop yourself before your hands touch his breastplate.

You suck in a breath and freeze, wide eyes drawn like a magnet back to that beskar face. Mando just spanked you. Hard. Mando… just… The pain ignites an arousal so sudden and strong that you’re worried you’re about to start trembling. It would absolutely kill your reputation if any Hunter found out that your sexual tastes ran submissive, that a deep secret part of you wanted nothing but to be overpowered and forced, to be used by someone stronger than you, better than you…

You can’t think of anything to do but flee. “I… uh…” His helmet tilts again, watching your face closely as you stutter. “Yeah, I guess I was being a little too childish. I’ll stop…stop trying to make you lighten up.” Your eyes slide away from his helmet’s eye slit, unable to handle even the imagined eye contact. “I’ll leave you alone to do whatever it is you do up here. Meditate. I’m gonna go down and…” you make for the ladder to the cargo hold, “and clean my blaster.”

He just watches you go. You can still feel the impact of his hand on your ass, with every movement of your leg as you climb down the rungs of the ladder. Fuck, it’s making your pussy tingle just a badly, too. Your head has just dropped below the hatch when Mando’s modulated voice follows you down with a suggestion that sounds suspiciously like a command. “Why don’t you clean mine, too.”

You feel your face and chest getting hot as soon as you get down to the relative privacy of the ship’s lower level. If you were trying to maintain control of the conversation, you’d say something sassy back to that, not let him win an inch of dominance, but you’re not in control anymore, are you? Not of yourself, not of whatever this is that’s going on between you. And it’s so dangerous. How would you keep his respect, if your top competitor in the Guild knew this about you, what you wanted him to do to you…

Mando’s weapon rack is set into the wall across from the ladder. Certainly there’s cleaning supplies stashed somewhere in that section, but you’re too shaky to get right to work. Instead, you walk down along the racks of carbonite, idly inspecting his cargo as you try and pull yourself together.

Four of the racks are currently occupied; the Mandalorian has been busy. Each one is tagged with a bounty’s chain code. You recognize two of them from Karga’s list. Quarries that you had passed on, that seemed too difficult to be worth their price. Bastard was about to show you up again when he unloaded these trophies.

You take a deep breath when you reach the end of the line. Your ass still tingles in the most tantalizing way, but you grit your teeth and tell yourself to ignore it. Maybe if you just stay down here, avoid your traveling companion until the ship reaches Nevarro, everything else will go just fine. No more bruises to your pride, no dirty secrets revealed. Yeah. That’s smart.

You turn and Mando is just there, boxing you in between the racks of carbonite carriers. How can a guy covered with so much metal be this stealthy? You try not to let shock show on your face; which only means you end up freezing like a prey animal.

“You liked that.” He makes the accusation solidly, with the weight of heavy interest bearing down behind it.

“What are you talking about.” You know, but you don’t want to answer for the heat that surely showed in your face when Mando spanked you. You try to wiggle past him, but he doesn’t acknowledge your intent, makes no move to make way for you.

“You know.” He’s just staring down at you.

You twitch in irritation and decide if he’s ignoring personal space, so can you. Your chest and thigh slide against solid armor as you force your body through the gap between him and the carbonite. “Get out of my way.”

His helmet is the only thing that moves, tracking your labored progression. “Make me.” He echoes your earlier challenge with an amused little tone.

“Fine.” You use your entire body weight to slam him into the rack on the other side. But he recovers too quickly; when you try to step away, into the center of the ship’s hold, he gets an arm around your chest.

As if your adrenaline wasn’t spiking already; now your combat reflexes kick in and you pull him in tighter, squatting low and grabbing that arm for leverage. With a quick burst of effort from your legs, you flip him over your shoulder.

You follow him down, taking advantage of the way a fall inside all that metal has to stun him, and climb on top of his body. “Fifty-five percent.” You also attempt to change the subject.

He reaches up and it’s a struggle to control his arms. He’s kriffing strong, and you’ve already taken off your combat equipment with the hidden tricks you usually use to deal with opponents that are bigger than you. He twists underneath you, in some way that you don’t expect, and with a rough shove and a brief crushing sensation along one leg you find yourself flat on the deck beneath him. “Are you really going to pretend you don’t like this?” his modulator purrs down at you.

Subject not changed. Every one of your nerve endings is in high gear now, and there’s a powerful urge inside you that wants to mewl and spread your legs apart for him right here, like a bitch in heat acknowledging the alpha male. You push the image back with a growl between your teeth, and use your thighs only to try and throw him off you.

Mando responds to your offensive by smothering you back down with his hips. Something solid crushes into the apex of your thighs, and you remember his armor does not have a codpiece.

A feral little moan escapes past your lips. Mando stops, lifting up just a little off your body and cocking his helmet to the side where it hovers only a hand’s breadth above your face. “What was that?” he asks, voice pleased.

And just like that, the whole game has changed. You were so worried he was trying to embarrass you, get one over on you. But if he likes it like this too… You reach your hand down boldly and throw his question back at him. “What’s this?” you ask as your palm makes contact with a delightfully solid bulge straining against the thick fabric of his pants.

A deep rumble purrs out of his modulator. “If you can manage to behave, maybe you’ll find out.”

How does he know exactly what to say to make you squirm? Your body floods with heat as you inwardly flail around to find a non-submissive answer. “And what happens if I don’t behave?”

“Then, maybe things get really interesting.”

Oh. Fuck. Now there’s an option. Maybe you don’t even have to submit to get the kind of tumble you want from him. You bare your teeth in a ferocious, challenging grin, and take advantage of the way he’s pulled his weight back to twist out from under him, knocking his helmet one more time with your elbow as you go.

You scramble across the deck out from under him, but a heavy hand catches your belt before you can get very far. You kick but Mando’s already inside your reach; your heel glances off his armor without even slowing him down.

He tugs on your belt, harshly, and climbs over the backs of your legs to force you down. “Where do you you think you’re going?” His voice is tight with the effort of getting himself positioned on top of you, squishing your belly into the deck.

“Mmf” is the sound you make in response, because now he’s pressing a forearm into your back and putting most of his weight on it.

“Hold still.” You give him a little token resistance, but mostly you let him get settled how he wants, holding you down to the floor evenly with the left side of his body. Leaving his right hand free. “So. What happens when you don’t behave.”

He spanks you, solid and centered and sharp.

You expected it just enough to hold your breath, and make sure you don’t cry out. You may be face-down on the floor under the Mandalorian, but you still have your pride. The first smack is followed by two more, and he grunts when you still don’t make a noise.

Heavy fingers smooth over the sting in your flesh. His hand feels amazing as it covers the swell of your ass, a slow, deliberate drag that feels warmer than it ought to and much more soothing than you expected.

“What’s it going to be, Y/N?” he asks. When you don’t answer fast enough for him, he swats at your other cheek, lazy and powerful.

Maybe he got a little noise out of you with that last one; it’s just too hard to stay quiet and not flinch both at the same time under the strength of that arm.

His helmet comes closer down to your face. “It’s okay to let go.” He speaks with such confidence, such seductive calm. “I can tell you want to submit. You don’t have to keep fighting it.” He shifts on top of you. “Though I do like it when you struggle.”

Your body rolls enticingly underneath him, without your brain’s permission. “Don’t you dare tell anyone you got me like this.”

“Of course not.” His answer is immediate. You remember how he’s always been an honorable man, that part of his reputation impeccable. Perhaps you really can trust him with this side of you. He sticks to the Code, he honors his promises, and lives by the Way of the Mandalore.

That last one begs a certain question, of course. “I wasn’t sure that Mandalorians could even have sex.”

A throaty noise makes the modulator crackle. “We have our ways.” A pause. “Is that what you want?”

You lift your head a little higher. He doesn’t give you much freedom, but he shifts just enough to help you feel comfortable breathing again. “If that’s what you’re offering, yeah, I wouldn’t be opposed to things ending up there.”

His hand gropes over your ass, fingers diving to tease more sensitive flesh between your legs. “After we… resolve a few things.” He grips tightly, almost cruelly. You agree in a sound that comes out much more high-pitched than you intended as he palms your ass and kneads it boldly. “Like whether you’re ready to start behaving like a good girl now.”

You still can’t bring yourself to just say yes, as hot as his words are making you. But you curl into his hand, just a little. To encourage him.

He growls something in a language you don’t know. It sounds like a curse and his weight is pressed down on you again as he scrambles with your belt, loosening your pants just enough to shove everything off the curve of your hips, baring you to mid-thigh in the ship’s cool air. When he spanks you now it’s sharper, the sting lighting up your tender flesh under every open-palmed strike that just keeps coming and coming. “Rubbing your ass on me does not count as an answer.” Smack. “I want to hear you say it.” Smack. “That you submit.” Smack. “That your ass is mine tonight.” A few involuntary cries squeeze out of your throat before he relents and rubs you again, the leather of his glove singing over your overstimulated skin.

You slow your panting breaths before you speak up, endeavoring to match his even tone. “Maybe I’ll play along for a little while.” You twist further, until you can stare up into his silver mask. “What do you want me to do?”

He pulls back, sitting up on his hip. From the angle of his helmet you’d guess that your answer does not really count as the submission he was looking for. Nor did you mean it to be. Someone’s gonna top you, they’ve got to earn it. Even if they are already, physically, on top of you. His moment of thought ends. “Take off your clothes.”

His hand squeezes at your ass one more time as you shift, like he’s loathe to let go while you comply with his command. You make as quick of work with your boots as you can, then push your bottoms off after them. Mando’s sitting beside you, leaning up against a large cargo crate, helmet fixed on your slowly-revealed body.

You’re so self-conscious that your skin feels like it could be glowing, as you bare it for him inch by inch. There’s nothing to read in that cold helmet, but its angle never wavers, riveted on you.

Once you’ve gotten yourself completely naked, he beckons you to come to him with two curling fingers. It’s amazingly erotic to move toward him with nothing on, while every inch of the Mandalorian warrior is still covered in battle-scarred plates.

He reaches out, palm up for your hand. You place your hand in his and he draws you in, until you’re kneeling right beside him. His fingers trail up your arms, over your shoulders, coaxing you closer. His touch is lighter than you expected. But you can hear him breathing through the mask. He’s struggling to stay this calm. To savor this.

His helmet tips down as his fingers knead harder; he watches himself press and squeeze the flesh of your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. The modulator translates another buzzing hum. Does it fascinate him, to see so much bare and vulnerable skin, when he can show none?

You feel your nipples tighten, a silent craving for contact. This feels good, but you want so much more. You look right into his eye slit. “I won’t break,” you say, twisting yourself tighter into the grip of his hands.

The Mandalorian growls and rises up to his knees, helmet filling your vision as he presses himself close and rakes his fingers down your back. He’s looking down at your panting chest and squeezing your ribs, watching the way your pristine tits are so close to brushing against his dirty metal chestplate. He clutches you in, pressing your belly against his, betraying a desire for closeness that he just can’t achieve.

Your hands come up to his shoulders, burrowing through the cowl wrapped around his collar, trying to make contact. Your fingers curl up the column of his neck, where the thinner fabric lets you feel a hint of his body heat. He stiffens when you come close to the bottom of his helmet.

“Leave it,” he snarls, just as you’re telling him “Don’t worry, I wasn’t—"

He scoops you up tightly and sets you on top of the cargo crate he had been leaning against. Your legs open and wrap around him of their own volition as he presses between them. You cross your ankles underneath his cloak, locking his body in close. You let your hands rest on his shoulders, just inside the pauldrons, but don’t attempt to slide under anything again.

Leather-clad fingers rake up your ribs, dragging up the sides of your body before they close over your breasts. Finally. You arc into him and let your eyes close, feeling the texture of his gloves across sensitive skin, the hungry twisting and tugging against your nipples.

“Open your eyes,” he demands, voice breathy with as much arousal as you’re feeling. “I want you to look at me, keep looking at me, let me see…”

He trails off, but you can guess what he means. Let him see what it feels like to be touched. You tip your chin down and lock your eyes on that T-shaped window in his helmet. His fingers pinch around both your nipples at once and your jaw drops. He tickles around the edges, then grabs up the full swell of your tits and squeezes. Your eyes try to flutter shut; it’s already hard to remember his instruction.

He settles into an entirely delicious rhythm, kneading your peaks, watching every crease of your brow, reading every gasp and twitch of your lip so that he can tweak at your nipples just right, until the pleasure is almost unbearable. You don’t even realize your eyes have fallen closed until his hand disappears from one of your tits and slaps at your cheek.

It’s not hard, just a slight sting, the corrective swat of a playful alpha. “Eyes,” he reminds you, then goes right back to his blissful torture.

Your core is warming almost unbearably. Every tug at your nipples is drawing a tingling line of pleasure right down between your thighs, taking the heat that had already awoken there during your spanking and fanning the flames, until the need for more is almost unbearable. “Mando,” you moan, tilting your hips forward on the crate, “please…”

A pleased little sound comes out of the modulator. “Please what?”

“Urmmm,” you moan at him, twisting your body, trying to scoot your hips a little closer to him. “I need more.”

He responds by pinching your nipples harder, just enough pain to make you gasp and curl. You pout up toward his helmet. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But you like it.” He does it again, and this time you cry out. A stabbing ache deep between your legs reminds you you’re still not getting what you want.

Fingers tickle down your belly, brushing across your inner thighs. Then they slide around behind and pinch you hard on the ass. You wail in frustration.

Mando tips his helmet closer to your face. “Tell me again how I don’t know how to be playful.”

“Fuck!” you cry through gritted teeth.

“Fuck what?”

Your hands scramble down his armored chest, aiming for his belt to just reach down and show him what you want.

“Uh uh.” He grabs your wrists before you can do more than pop the buckle on his utility belt. “Hands stay on my shoulders.”

You immediately comply, too far gone now to be contradictory. “Fuck me, Mando.”

“Oh yeah?” He straightens up a little, his posture cocky as he stands there wrapped in your naked legs. “You ready to say it?”

“I’m yours.” You don’t even hesitate. “Do whatever you want with me.”

He takes his belt the rest of the way off with one hand, lets it drop to the floor. The other hand is busy squeezing your ass, then traveling around your hip. He pushes your legs open a little wider, then his thumbs come running down your inner thighs, pulling at your labia, spreading you even more. You lean back, curling your hips up, to give him a better view.

His breath hisses out from under the helmet. “You want me to fuck this little pussy?”

“Yes,” you moan, as his thumbs stroke up and down, just around its edges.

He pulls you open wider. “You ready to be a good girl, and do exactly as I say?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Exactly,” he repeats, and a ghost of a chill runs down your spine in the midst of all this heat. He takes one of your hands from his shoulder, and turns it palm up near your mouth. “Spit.”

The thumb of his other hand is still sliding up and down next to your opening, not touching your wetness. You appreciate that he’s not about to let his dirty gloves make things unsanitary. You gather up saliva to the front of your mouth and carefully coat your first two fingers.

Mando keeps his grip on your wrist, and pushes your hand down to your entrance as soon as he’s done watching your lips and tongue work over your own fingers.

You smooth the spit over your slit, Mando’s grip still guiding you, making sure you do a thorough job lubricating yourself. His other thumb creeps down over your clit, rocking across it carefully, steadily, his helmet angling back up to watch your face.

It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open against the pleasure of that pressure, finally right where you need it. But you remember his rule. You keep your gaze locked on the beskar as your own fingers find a rhythm underneath his, the gloved hand locked around your wrist urging you to press into yourself deeper, faster, in coordination with his rolling thumb. You find yourself clutching at the back of his neck just to keep your balance as the needy pleasure explodes. “That’s it,” his voice soothes over the modulator, “get yourself ready for me.”

You’re doing more than getting ready. Even just this much touch from him is sending you straight toward a spiraling orgasm, now that all the wild pleasure built up by every slap and struggle and pinch finally has somewhere to go.

He sees it coming, the way your eyelids go tight at the effort to keep them open and looking at him. “Don’t,” he warns. “Save it.”

He stops moving his thumb, though he doesn’t release its pressure. He swirls your hand inside of yourself one last time before drawing it out, then setting it back onto his shoulder in line with the other one.

You can’t help but roll your hips against his thumb while Mando starts loosening his own clothing. You want to call him cruel when he removes that hand too, bringing it up to caress your neck, but you have no ability to talk back anymore. Especially when his fingers curl up underneath your jaw. “Now. The most important thing.” You can feel him pulling himself out of his pants, though he’s brought his body in closer and you can’t see that far with your head tilted up in his hand like this. “Don’t look down.” His fingers squeeze tighter around your jaw, the heel of his hand pressing into the top of your throat. “If you look, I’ll have to kill you.”

He could be exaggerating, just to make this hotter for you, more intense, but you remember what he said to some over-curious bitch at Karga’s tavern once. No living thing has seen me without my helmet. Apparently The Way is preserved if violators quickly become only the formerly living.

“Yes,” you say quickly, voicebox buzzing against his wrist, words mumbling together against the unrelenting pressure in his fingers, “I understand.”

A few more quick movements down where you can’t see, and then you feel something warm and thick pressing up against your core. You both moan together as he slides his head up and down your slick folds, only fumbling a little before he finds his aim. Fuck. This is what you’ve been craving. You brace yourself against the cargo crate as best you can, squeezing your legs around him to invite him in.

You think you're ready to take him, but you're not. He crushes in bigger and wider than you’re used to, and you wail up into that impassive beskar face and try in vain to remember how to relax and take a dick like this one.

His breath is catching in little straining grunts; apparently this is pretty overwhelming for him, too. When he’s halfway in he removes his guiding hand from his own shaft and returns his thumb to your clit; that helps. The more familiar pleasure of his pressure helps melt your walls into the stretch of him. “You’re so. Fucking. Tight.” His hand never wavers on your jaw as he starts to pump, in and out, getting a little bit deeper into you with every thrust, groaning a little louder with every inch he gains.

Fuck. This position has every muscle in your body straining, which is probably why it’s so hard for him to fit in, but you don’t even care because the intensity of it is everything that you’ve been craving. “Fuck—” he adjusts his grip just a fraction, so you can talk a little easier, “fuck me just how you want, Mando, I can take it.”

He groans and takes his thumb off your clit, bringing that big hand around to grab onto your hip and brace you for a wilder pace. You only bemoan the loss of his thumb for a second, because the new angle slides his cock against a wicked spot deeper inside you.

“Ahh!” you wail, and wrap your arms tighter around his neck, needing him to hold you up as he fucks up into you at an angle that destroys the precarious balance you had been maintaining on the edge of this cargo crate. His controlling grip on your neck is choking you just a little, a sensation so erotic that you can feel your impending orgasm sizzle and tighten all around his cock the more you focus on it. “Mando, I—Can I?” you pant, your face so close that your breath is fogging up the beskar.

“Yes, fucking come for me,” he orders, then presses into you harder, his grip momentarily cutting off your airway completely. A second later your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, spasming every muscle in your core, your thighs, in your silent, breathless chest, and Mando just keeps fucking you through it all.

As soon as the heel of his hand slides off your throat you’re screaming through your teeth, the sound bouncing along with his thrusts. His pace is relentless until your orgasm finally peaks, and the stiffness of your body starts to melt against him. You realize that you’ve wrapped your arms fully around his helmet, getting as close as his controlling grip on your jaw would allow.

His pace slows, but it does not stop. From the aching deep inside your belly, you know that he’s still fully hard, just giving you a brief moment to recover yourself.

You sigh into the side of his head, a long, lovely sound. Your body shivers with aftershocks around his solid shaft, keeping your pleasure brimming, not letting it fade. That hand controlling your jaw pushes you back, gently, until he can see your face again.

His grip spasms on your ass. He must like what he sees. “Close your eyes.” You do, and he starts to pull away. “Keep them closed. I’m turning you over.”

You unlock your ankles from behind his back as he draws his length out of your body, both of you gasping and shuddering as he withdraws. Your legs come down to the ground rather stiffly, and you’re glad of the way he manhandles you along, until you’re bending over the crate with your thighs pressed into its edge. You’re not sure your legs would have held you up without his help.

Mando wastes no time lining his cock back up again. You hold onto the edges of the cargo crate as he presses in eagerly. A gasp rips from your throat as your head lifts up in an involuntary bend of your back; this position lets him drive in deeper, forcing you to adjust to his size all over again.

A split second after your head comes up, Mando’s fingers squeeze through your hair at the base of your skull, using that grip to hold you steady and facing forward. You really weren’t trying to turn and look, but you suppose he can’t risk it. He keeps control of your head, pulling your hair a little in time to his thrusts, as he groans out a deep, pleasured sound. You give voice to how you’re feeling, too, letting little sobbing moans spill out in time to his insistent thrusts. He can’t see your face anymore, and you barely have the leverage to move your hips against him, so this is the only way to keep the connection.

“Oh, keep making those sounds,” Mando pants, then the modulator keeps crackling with more of his soft grunts as he plumbs your depths. “You take me so good.” When he flattens his hips against your ass it definitely hurts; he’s reached the end of you, and is trying to stretch past it, deep inside. But even that pain is erotic; you wail and submit under his praise and his smothering need.

His grunts and his thrusts both start coming faster, and just as you fear that you’re hitting your limit, that you can’t take any more, some new dimension of release and submission open up inside you, and all that suffering transforms into a pleasure so fierce that your walls are clenching and your mind is wiped by an orgasm that turns the rest of your body to jelly.

When your mind clears you find your cheek flush to the surface of the cargo crate. Mando’s hand is pressing it there, with his fingers wrapped across your eyes, and he’s groaning through his teeth as he smashes himself as deep into your body as he can get. He shudders and bucks, roaring through his orgasm, the modulator translating the sound with an almost musical edge.

When he’s done he sags partially on top of you, his belly resting on your hips while his arms keep his chestplate from digging into your back. His cock is keeping you plugged, a thick presence that makes you feel stretched even when it’s going soft. One of his hands is still resting over your eyes, but all the tension has gone out of it. You wonder if he’d feel the flicker of your eyelashes against his glove if your lids accidentally parted. You keep them closed.

He hums, fingertips running softly up your back. You wonder if he’s looking down, admiring your bare skin once again. Your entire body is thrumming, the satisfaction spreading to every muscle fiber. You know things will feel awkward soon, but for now you really don’t want to move.

Eventually Mando pulls himself gently out of you. A spurt of warm liquid follows, running thickly down your leg. Fuck, how backed up was he?

“Don’t move,” he warns, lifting his body up off of yours.

You give him a contented little murmur and stay perfectly relaxed. “Eyes still shut,” you reassure him. You’re not even annoyed at the lack of trust these constant reminders might convey. This is something he has to control strictly. Certainly it’s a great privilege that he even took the risk with you. You listen to his footsteps retreat and return, as you lay draped over the cargo crate and enjoy the bliss that is only just beginning to fade.

“You can open them now,” he says softly once he’s standing over you again. One hand slides over your ass, pausing at a spot that feels surprisingly sensitive. “I’ve given you a welt or two here.”

“Souvenir,” you grin up at him, twisting your spine while keeping your hips relaxed under his hand. “Thanks.”

Mando nods his helmet back at you. He’s got a cloth in his other hand, dampened from the fresher, and he wipes up the mess he’s left between your legs with careful, steady dabs. “I should be the one thanking you,” he says softly, maybe even a little awkwardly. “That was…”

“Overdue?” you quip, as he’s wiping all the way down to your ankle to clean up the enormous load he had for you.

“Maybe just a little.” He steps away to trade the towel for a thin, precisely-folded blanket, which he shakes out and spreads over you. You stand up in his arms as he does, guiding him to wrap it around your shoulders. You hold it tight and lean in toward him for a snug embrace. The blanket makes pressing your bare body against his armored plating much more comfortable. “Come here,” he mutters, and draws you to sit on the floor with him, leaning up against the cargo crate and each other. Even the afterglow of wild sex with the Mandalorian doesn’t make his spare ship any less uncomfortable, but you focus on the way his arm holds you tucked in tight against his body, the way you can feel him breathing against your ribs.

“That was good,” you breathe.

“Yeah.”

You lean your head tentatively against his shoulder, wondering how much intimacy he’s going to allow now. His arm shifts, helping you get more comfortable, and his thumb is dragging back and forth, idly, along the top of your thigh.

There’s one question you have to ask.

“Would you really have had to kill me, if I looked?”

He holds his breath for a moment, then lets it blow out with a soft glottal sound. “Most Mandalorians would. But honestly? To me, that wouldn’t have made a difference. Even if you didn’t live to tell the tale, my honor would still be smirched. I’d know I’d failed a central tenet, and from every day after I’d be living a lie.”

Your brow creases, and you turn to look up at him even though you can’t read his face. That was kriffing serious. “So it’s not just about the helmet.”

His beskar mask nods. “Not the way I was raised.”

You turn your gaze away, idly looking across the cargo bay. “Wow.” You’d never seen him not covered head to toe, and you never would.

“But I think…” he trails off as his hands burrow under your blanket, coming around to meet each other in front of your belly and fumbling with something. “I think this is acceptable.” His hand finds one of yours, and air rushes into your chest in a silent, measured gasp as you realize the fingers winding between yours are his, warm skin, completely bared to the wrist.

You sit together in silence for a long time, feeling the twin pulses of living palms pressed together, the small twitches of muscle and the sparkle of nerve endings when a finger softly strokes across the back of a hand. The more you imagine how much this must mean to him, the more it means to you, until your head is spinning and you can barely handle the intimacy of the kind of touch you’ve always taken simply for granted.

You’re afraid to ask what this means. This whole encounter was so unplanned; you don’t even know what you want from the Mandalorian, much less what he wants from you. Is he doing this just because of the afterglow rush of soft hormones, or does he think you and he could be something more?

And when you feel awkward, you talk. People skills, remember? You squeeze his hand and restart an old conversation. “Told you we make a good team.”

He grunts.

Maybe you should just shut up and enjoy the cuddle. But his non-answer does not help your racing mind to still. The urge to tease him starts taking over again. “You know, we’re still not done negotiating that split.”

Mando groans softly. “The only split I want to think about is how far I can split open your legs.”

A new thrill runs up your spine, but you stay on track with only a small giggle escaping your throat. “How about we round it back up to sixty percent for me, and as soon as that big dick can get hard again, I’ll throw on a blindfold and give you the best head you ever had in your life.”

Mando’s fingers card through yours, and his other hand comes up to play with your hair. “Tempting.” There’s a rumble deep in his throat that makes your aching cunt tighten. “But let’s just call it 50-50, and we can fuck all the way to Nevarro.”

Part Two here

My Mando Smut Masterlist

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[maiyami]

ℍ𝕠𝕥-ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: 𝒦𝒶𝓉𝓈𝓊𝓀𝒾 𝐵𝒶𝓀𝓊𝑔𝑜𝓊 𝒳 𝐹𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑜

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: 𝕊𝕞𝕦𝕥, 𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗, 𝕃𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕦𝕒𝕘𝕖, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕖.

ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝟙𝟠+

ＡＬＬ ＣＨＡＲＡＣＴＥＲＳ ＡＲＥ ＡＧＥＤ ＵＰ！ １８＋

During your time at UA, many of the other students found you scary. Either it being the resting bitch face you always wore or how powerful your quirk was. Everyone was nervous to approach you, too worried to say the wrong thing too you. Granted you weren’t the easiest person to talk too, you were a bit of a hot-head. Sometimes the littlest things would set you off, one of those things being Katsuki Bakugou. You two always seemed to butt heads when it came to just about everything. You didn’t mind it though, it was fun pushing his buttons, until he pushed them back on you.

That didn’t change much when you both graduated, or when you decided to work for his agency. Whatever possessed you to work with him was beyond yourself, but you enjoyed it. You may bump heads but everyone could tell how attracted you both were to each other. Katsuki doesn’t give praise at all, but it seems as so that you’re the only one who is worthy of it. It wasn’t a secret that you’ve had a crush on him ever since your time at UA, but you let it slide due to professional reasons. Who wants to be known as the person who fucks their boss?

You had returned from patrol, bruised up and bloody. You went up to Katsukis office to give in some paperwork, you opened the door to find him speaking to Kirishima. He had stopped by to see if he could catch some lunch with his best friend. You must have looked worse than you though because they both stopped mid-conversation when they saw you. Looking over you, mouths half open. Just stared back at them, no expression on your face.

“What the hell happened too you?” Katsuki asked, his eyes haven’t left your body since the moment you walked in. You shrugged, throwing some papers onto his desk. “Nothing, I’m alright.” You said back. Kirishima came running over too you, putting his hands on your arms. Katsuki was practically shooting daggers into his best friends back when he started to touch you. “Don’t lie! You look horrible, did you see a doctor yet?” Kirishima questioned you. You pushed him off, annoyance coming to your face. “I’m fine. I already said that.” You repeated yourself. Kirishima backed off, he knew he didn’t want to push you. As you were walking back to the door, the sound of Katsukis voice stopped you. “Where are you going now.” He questioned. 

You looked over your shoulder slightly, rolling your eyes. “Back on patrol, what else?” You snapped back. He ‘Tsked’ at you. “No you’re not, you need to go get checked out.” He said back. You fully turned around, completely annoyed at this point. “What do you both not understand? I am FINE. Stop worrying dumbasses.” You practically yelled back, then you were out the door slamming it behind you. Katsuki sighed, rubbing his eyes as his best friend turned to look at him. “Stubborn fucking woman.” Katsuki muttered under his breath. Kirishima laughed a little, sitting back down to face his friend. “Kind of remindes me of how you used to be.” He said with that big goofy grin on his face. Katsuki muttered something under his breath, grabbing the papers on the desk. “Whatever, we can get lunch another time, I have to go over these papers now.” He shot back at him. As Kirishima started to leave, he said something at the door way. “Bro, just admit it. You love seeing that fire in her eyes when she talks too you.” 

Katsuki looked up at him, his eyes narrowed in on the red head. “What?” He hissed back at him. Kirishima laughed, something soft but it was still a laugh. “Come on, man. I know you’ve had something for her since we were in school. It’s kind of obvious, you always want to make sure she’s okay. You never do that with anyone else. You act like she is frail, and want to protect her.” Kirishima said back. Katsuki was taken back slightly, he knows he treats you like an equal. He only pushes when he knows you are actually hurt, or way over your head. “What part of her is frail? She is one of the toughest people I know, but she goes overboard sometimes.” Katsuki snapped back. Kirishima just smiled, waving goodbye. “Exactly. You care.” He said then he was out the door. 

“I care?” Katsuki thought. Well of course he cares, you were there for him through the most shittiest times in his life. Also not a lot of people can put up with him for as long as you and Kirishima have. Obviously he likes you around, shit when you actually smiled at him it made his heart beats a little harder. He just tried to not let it run his life, you do work for him after all. Maybe that thought is for another day, Katsuki didn’t want to ruin what was going on with you both. He started to go over the paperwork you had left him on his desk. Damn, did you have a hard time dealing with these villains. There was a bit of damage done to a few buildings, and many citizens were moved out because of the villains. But you came out on top, but as Katsuki looked through the report he noticed something. You broken your wrist in the fight, and you still didn’t get check out? He groaned, knowing that you were just going to further hurt yourself if you didn’t go to the hospital. So he got up, going out to your favorite patrol spot to get you. 

You were on top of a building, wrapping your wrist up while still having your eyes focused on the street. You whined a little at the pain but you’ve had worse, you can get through it. You heard the door open behind you, you turned around to find Katsuki there. “What are you doing here?” You asked him. He didn’t say anything, just came up and grabbed you by the arm. Pulling you with him back to the door, you were confused. You pulled out of his grip, looking at him. “I said what are you doing here.” Your voice sounded like venom. Katsuki hissed back at you. “I’m bringing you to the hospital, you’re wrist is broke and you’re done with work for today.” He said back. Before you could return fire, he already beat you too it. “I already sent one of the extras to take your place, no fucking arguing.” He said back.

When he says “one of the extras” he means he sent Denki. Not that you were complaining about leaving work early but you didn’t see how this was such a big deal. But you were tired and didn’t want to argue with him at this point. You spent all of about an hour that the hospital, they healed your wrist up pretty well. You didn’t even need to wear a cast this time, just some bandages. While you were about to leave to go home, Katsuki held onto your arm and pulled you with him. “Excuse me, I was going to go home.” You said too him. He just rolled his eyes at you, pulling you along. “We are getting something to eat.” He said. You tired to pull away but his grip was tight. “I don’t need anything to-“ you started to say but then you were cut off.

“I know you haven’t eaten, stop being stubborn and come have dinner with me.” He shot back. You rolled your eyes, then you felt your stomach grumble a little. Damnit he was right, you completely skipped lunch while you were fighting that villain. Whatever, no harm in having dinner. “Fine.” You said back at him. Everything in Katsuki told him to smile but he held back. You both made your way to the restaurant. It was a cute little place, plus it was barbecue your favorite. The meal was great, you both just talked about your days. Yours more crazy than his today, drinks were flowing it was nice. It was one of the few times that you just enjoyed each other, not arguing.

The night didn’t stop there, you both ended up back at his place. The conversation was flowing just as much as the drinks were. Both sitting on the couch, the tv on for background noise as you both just listened to each other. “You’ve come a long way, King Explosion Murder.” You teased at him. He laughed back, nugging you with his arm. “At least I’ve gotten better than you, y/n.” He said back. It was pretty rare when you got to see this side of him. The spark in his eyes, soft pink blush across his cheeks, and that smile. God that smile could have all your troubles washed away. “I’m not THAT bad.” You laughed back.

Katsuki couldn’t get over how sweet you could actually be, he knew you could but he just barely saw it. He loves when you get that fire in your eyes, don’t get him wrong but he enjoyed this side of you more. Soft giggles coming from your plump lips, joy in your y/c/e, and how pink your cheeks were from the drinks. It was just something he loved to be around, you are that something. You were a hot-head like him, but your sweet side was something he could never compare too. As you spoke a piece of your hair fell in front of your face. Katsuki doesn’t know why he does this, but he leans forward to push it behind your ear.

You just look at him, the content in his face as he did this. His eyes never leaving yours, while you looked back at him. You don’t know if it’s the booze or just the way the air was feeling around you both but you leaned in. Katsuki followed, moving his hand to the side of your face. He pulled you in closer, your lips were almost touching. You both waited to see who would make the first move, it was him. He fully leaned in, connecting your lips to his. It was breathtaking, his lips were soft. He leaned back to look over your face, this time you were the one that wanted more.

You let your hand slip behind his neck, pulling him back. This kiss was more intense, more passionate. Katsuki pulled you so you were straddling his lap, gripping onto your hips. Your parted your mouth slightly, a soft moan escaping yours lips. Katsuki took that opportunity to let his tongue slip past your lips. His tongue danced around with yours, you held on tighter to his neck. You caught his lower lip between your teeth, pulling on it slightly before letting go. He groaned at the feeling, pulling you so you were right up against his chest. What a time for the booze to ware off.

You came to your senses, noticing what you were doing. You broke the kiss off and just kind of stared wide-eyed at him. It must have wore off for him too because he was looking back at you the same way. You quickly got off his lap, fixing your clothes a little before standing up. “Thanks for dinner, Katsuki. It was really great, I should get going.” You said quickly, fumbling over your words. “Y-Yah, I had a good time. See you tomorrow.” He said back and you were quickly out the door. Katsuki sighed loudly, hitting his hands onto the couch. “Damnit.” He said to himself. He put his hands into his lap, only to find that he was completely hard. “Fuck.” He said to himself once more, getting up to get into the shower.

You were just standing outside his house, your back against the front door. You let her fingers trail your lips, committing the way his lips felt on yours to memory. How the fuck are you going to face him at work tomorrow. You hit your head on the door, looking up at the sky. Shit, might as well try to put what happened tonight behind you. However your heart just couldn’t calm down. This is what Katsuki Bakugou does too you, and you don’t think this feeling will ever go away. “Damnit.” You said under your breath before you started your way home.

As the days pasted, You and Katsuki tried your hardest to avoid each other. Not even giving each other passing glances as you walked by each other. Kirishima even noticed that Katsuki was more on edge than usual. You sighed as you stopped at his office, calling in to let him know you were going on patrol. Katsuki said alright, not even asking where and then you were off. Kirishima gave him a weird look, seeing the tension in his friend. “What’s going on, man?” He asked. Katsuki let out a sigh, burying his face into his hands.

“I fucking kissed her.” He said to Kirishima. Kirishima eyes widened and a smile came to his mouth. “No way! How was it?” He asked his friend. Katsuki sighed once more, picking his head from his hands. “Fuck, it was the best thing that could have ever happened. But I freaked her out! She won’t even talk too me.” He said in a huff. Kirishima just laughed a little, leaning back in his chair. “Dude, you have to talk to her. I know you care for her, man. Just tell her.” He said back. Katsuki just rubbed the back of his neck, looking at his friend. “I don’t know.” He said back. Kirishima laughed, a big laugh at Katsuki. “I know you, I know you never back down. Fucking tell her, bro.” Kirishima said back.

Kirishimas phone rang, it was one of his employees that called. “I got to go, I’ll talk to you later. Tell me how it does, alright?” He said before he was out the door. Katsuki was going over paperwork, letting the day just pass him by until he got a call from Kirishima. “I haven’t talked to her yet, dumbass.” Katsuki boomed over the phone. There was a lot of background noise, sounded like fighting. “That’s not why I’m calling! You need to come down! Y/n, got hurt and I need back up.” He yelled over the phone. Katsuki was quick, getting up to rush out of the office. “Where are you.” He asked sternly. Kirishima gave his location, told him to hurry it up.

Once Katsuki got down there, the buildings were destroyed, some are on fire, and there was bricks everywhere. Kirishima had just finished off a villain, running over to Katsuki. “Where is y/h/n!?” Katsuki yelled at him. “She’s under the ground with another villain, I think she’s trapped. I was trying to get her but they just keep coming.” Kirishima explained. Katsuki was quick, taking a few villains out before heading under ground. It was dark, but he could hear you yelling. He followed your voice, seeing that you were partly trapped under some of the street that fell under. Your left arm and leg were caught under, while the villain was laying next to you. He was knocked out.

“Hey I’m here, it’s okay.” He said calmly too you. You had fear in your eyes, there was pouring down ontop of you. “Help, please- I don’t want to die down here.” You said too him, tears coming to your eyes. Katsuki had never seen you so scared, let alone cry. He looked over the rock, then he leaned back down to you. “This is going to hurt, alright? Just he prepared, I’ll be here no matter what.” He said. You nodded at him, closing your eyes tightly. Katsuki got to work, pushing rocks off of you. Damn did it fucking hurt, you could feel the rock scraping up your skin. Both your leg and arm were broken but you could still feel it. “Fuck!” You yelled out.

“I know, I know!” He yelled back to you. “One more rock then I can get you out.” He said again then moved the big rock off your leg. You let out a scream, feeling your eyes flutter a bit from the pain. Katsuki gathered you into his arms, getting out of that dark hole. Kirishima had finished off the last villain when Katsuki came out of the ground. You were practically lifeless in his arms, just barely keeping your eyes open. “I’m bringing her to the hospital, everything all set here?” Katsuki yelled to Kirishima. He nodded back at him, waiting for the cops to come up. “I’ll send them your way if they need to talk with you.” Kirishima yelled back. Katsuki nodded at him.

It was a few hours later until you woke up, your body hurt. This time you had casts, the rocks might have really fucked you up. You looked around the room, it was dark, only lights coming in were from outside. Then you saw Katsuki, he was sitting in a chair next too you. He looked peaceful sleeping there, his head hanging a bit. You laughed a little, then reached out to tap his arm. He stirred a little, slowly waking up until he looked you in the eye. “Hey.” You said softly too him. Katsuki leaned forward, taking your hand into his. He just stared at you, you half expected him to call you a dumbass for rushing into something you shouldn’t have.

Instead he kissed your bruised knuckles, sighing softly. “Please don’t do that again.” He asked you. You were slightly confused, seeing the pain in his eyes. “What are you-“ you started to say but he cut you off. “Jumping in without thinking, I don’t want to get a call that you’ve died. Please, for me. I don’t want to lose you.” He said softly, he now had tears in his eyes. You just listened, tightening your own grip in his hand. “I didn’t know I meant that much too you.” You said back. He picked his head up fully now, looking you in the eyes. “You mean more than anything. I’ve liked you since UA, I just pushed those feelings down because I wanted to focus on being the best hero. Then you started to work for me, I didn’t know how to tell you.” He said back.

“Katsuki Bakugou, did you just confess your feelings for me?” You asked in a slightly teasing tone. He couldn’t help but have a soft smirk on his lips. “Oh shut up, dumbass.” He said back. You smiled, there’s the Katsuki you know and love. You pulled his hand, making him move so he was now sitting on your bed. “I feel the same way. I always have.” You said back too him. You let go of his hand to softly rub his cheek. “I’ll try to be more careful, okay?” You said too him. He smiled at you, leaning down to kiss you. You returned it, kissing him back. After the kiss he rested his forehead against yours. “Not going to run away this time?” He questioned. You laughed softly. “No, I’m not.” You said back.

As the months pasted, you only got closer the Katsuki. More dinner dates, more time spent with each other, and he even went out on patrol with you. A “proper” relationship as Kirishima liked to call it, which you were both happy with. It wasn’t long until you started actually dating, sure some people said things at the agency but you shut them down very quickly. Your resting bitch face said it all, you were pleased with yourself. Soon after, you had moved into his house. It was the real thing, you couldn’t be happier.

It was late, it was your day off so you decided to surprise Katsuki when he came home. You got some things ready, then you heard the door open. “Welcome home.” You yelled to him from the bathroom. He dropped his bag at the door, then took his boots off. “Thank you, Princess. How was your-“ he started to say then he saw you standing in the door way. You were dressed in this sexy two piece lingerie set. It was a dark red, see through bra and the straps of the thong high on your hips. Damnit you’re beautiful too him. His smirk said it all, he was completely pleased at how you welcomed him home. “Just waiting for me to get home, huh?” He asked as he made his way too you.

You smiled, nodding at him. “Of course, I know you had a long day. Wanted to make it better.” You said then slowly dropped to your knees in front of him. Katsuki laced his fingers through your hair, smirking down at you. “Oh ya? How are you going to do that?” He questioned. You slipped your hands up to his waistband, slowly pulling it down along with his boxers. Once they were past his crotch, his erection popped out. He was fully hard already and you hadn’t even touched him yet. You kept your eyes on his, looking up at him. “Like this.” You said then licked up his shaft. Katsuki let out a little groan, feeling his cock twitch from the sensation.

You swirled your tongue around his head, then you let his length disappear inch by inch into your mouth. You took him fully until your nose was at the base of his crotch. He shuttered above you, head lolled back as he felt the warmth of your mouth and throat. You started to work him, bobbing your head along his shaft. Your hand came up to cup his balls, slowly massaging them. He pulled you off his cock with a loud pop, looking down at you. There was saliva connecting the head of his cock to your lips. What a fucking sight he thought to himself. “Let’s go to the bedroom.” He said breathless. He leaned down to lift you into his arms, you could feel his length brushing you a little through your panties.

Once you got into the room, he placed you on the bed. Quickly slipping out of his pants and shirt. You followed, unclipping your bra to throw it on the side of the bed. Before you could pull your panties off, Katsuki was already taking care of that for you. He threw them next to your bra, looking over you. He lifted your legs to part them, seeing how wet you already were. “So fucking wet for me.” He muttered, before leaning down to lick a broad stripe up your entrance. You moaned at the feeling, then threw your head back once he started to lap at your clit. He let two fingers slowly slip into you, pleased by how easy they went in. “Princess, what got you so horny. Tell me.” He asked.

You bit your lip, feeling him work his fingers in you. “You know what did.” You half moaned at him. “Tell me.” He said back. He pumped his finger in you quicker, making your legs twitch. “Sucking your cock!” You moaned too him. He was pleased with that answer. “Good girl.” He said back then went back to licking and sucking your clit. You were a moaning mess under him, but you wanted more. “Fuck me...please.” You moaned too him. He slipped his fingers out of you slowly, giving your clit one last peak before hovering above you. “Since you asked so nicely.” He said back, rubbing the head of his cock against your opening.

You smirked, holding onto the back of your knees for him. He guided his length into you, slowly letting it disappear in. He groaned at the feeling, you were so tight for him, so wet. You bucked up into him, you wanted to feel him deeper. It made him moan, bringing a hand up to grip your throat. “Someone’s impatient.” He teased. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Just fuck me already, Katsuki.” You whined. He just gripped your throat tighter. “Don’t beg, you know what that does too me.” He said then started to thrust hard into you. That’s exactly what you wanted, to feel him deep inside you. You let out a muffled moan through his grip.

It egged him on more, thrusting harder and deeper into you. You let go of your own legs, letting them grip onto his hair instead. You tugged on it, he let out a moan himself. He took his hand off your throat, letting his hands grip the sheets by your head. “Fuck, you feel so good Princess. Like your pussy was made for my cock.” He moaned too you. You pulled him down for a heated kiss, all tongue and teeth. You broke off the kiss to moan, feeling your release coming. “You’re going to make me cum.” You moaned too him. It just made him thrust hard, sloppy since he was close too. “Fuck! Cum on my cock.” He moaned too you. After a few more pumps, you came undone on his cock. Clamping down on him, as he shot his own release.

You were both breathless, panting messes as he slipped to lay next too you. But the sex didn’t stop there, he pulled your back to his chest. Letting your leg hang over his hip as he guided his cock back into you. His hand took up camp on one of your breasts, teasing your nipple with his fingers. You moaned, letting your hand slip in front of you to toy with your clit. This was Katsuki favorite part when he had sex with you, you become even tighter after the first time you cum. The lust that builds up in you was something he could get drunk on. He let his hand slip from your breast back up to your throat.

“Fuck you’re so fucking tight for me.” He moaned into your ear. His thrusts were slower, he wanted you to feel every bit of him as he pushed his length inside of you. Sure as shit you did, this was probably your favorite position with him. “You’re going to make me cum again, fuck Katsu.” You moaned too him, pushing yourself back on his cock. Katsuki leaned in to leave little love bites on your neck and shoulder. “Mhmm..cum for me Princess.” He moaned out, then released himself again. If your walls weren’t painted white before, they sure were now. It pushed you over the edge once more, coming down from your high.

You rested your head back on his shoulder, while he softly rubbed your side. “I love you, y/n. I hope you know that.” He said softly against your hair. It was the first time he had ever told you he loves you. It almost brought tears to your eyes. You got everything you wanted in life. “I love you too.” You said back. A smile as bright as the sun on your face.

ᴛᴡᴏ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ:

You were pregnant, holy shit you’re pregnant. How were you going to tell Katsuki, you thought of the ways to let him know. They all seemed a little corny but who fucking cares. You decided to just leave the tests out on the counter in the bathroom. That will sure get the hint across too him. You made him his favorite dinner, and waited for him to come home.

The sound of the door opening was music to your ears, looking at your handsome man walking through. “Welcome home, babe.” You said too him from the stove. He laughed softly. “Thank you, Princess.” He said back, walking to the bathroom. You knew he always liked to shower before coming to eat. Once you heard the door shut, you just waited.

It didn’t take long for him to bust out of the bathroom, holding up the two tests too you. “What’s this?” He questioned, his eyes a little wide. You laughed, looking over him. “I think it’s pretty obvious, don’t you?” He said back. He smiled so big at you, walking over to take you into his arms. “You’re pregnant.” He said breathless. You nodded at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He leaned down to kiss you, a soft tear rolling down his cheek. He couldn’t be happier, he had everything he wanted in his life too.

[bebepac]

Falling For You

I am participating in @wackydrabbles​ Prompt # 94 courtesy of @rookie-ramsey​  “I’m giving you one last chance.” which will appear in bold.

This is also chapter 4 of The Meet:  To catch up on what you’ve been missing, please click:  The Meet

The Book:  TRR

Pairing:  Liam x Jilian (Liam x F!OC) / Leo x Bebe? (Leo x F!OC)

 Warnings: profanity, I think.   Fluff.  I really think Drama Whore is locked in a basement somewhere.  

Leo, Liam and Maddy belong to pixelberry.  Jilian belongs to my friend @queenjilian​ , and all others are my own characters to help support our story.

Summary:  Jilian and Liam celebrate their six month anniversary.  Leo shows up to Bebe’s apartment unannounced.  

A/N:  This took a different turn than originally anticipated.  Thank you @dcbbw​ for giving me an idea to rework a section, and @queenjilian​ as I feel we talk about this series daily.

This keeps taking a turn on me guys.  I’m sorry I don’t outline.  But I guess that is part of the magic here too.

Word Count: 1496

ORIGINAL POST DATE: 05/11/21 at 12:15PM EST.

He couldn't help but stare.  She was so beautiful, even while she was sleeping.  

"Liam, don't be creepy."

Jilian opened her eyes looking at him.

Liam’s mannerisms turned incredibly bashful.

"I can't help it.  You're a vision.  I am completely enamored by you, Jilian Winchester. Happy six month anniversary.   I have something for you.”

Jili gasped. Her work schedule the past few weeks had been so hectic she had totally forgotten the date. That night was the first time in several weeks they had actually been able to see each other.

Jili was panicked.  

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t realize the date.. Work has been so crazy. I know that’s not an excuse.”

He held out his gift for her.  She felt guilty.

“I don’t have anything for you Liam. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the reason you give a gift to someone Jili."

He pulled the small perfectly wrapped jewelry sized box out of the dresser.

Jili sat up in bed, the covers drifting a bit revealing bare skin, to which Liam's eyes quickly fell upon.

"Jili, your body is present enough for me.  You are absolute perfection."

She opened the box.  Inside was an adorable charm bracelet.  

The charms on the bracelet were all medical inspired.  There was a medical bag, a stethoscope, a little ambulance, and she took particular time with the caduceus.  

“This is a beautiful gift.”  

“I see you’re staring at the Caduceus. Did you know….”

“It’s Greek.  The symbol goes back to Greco-Egyptian mythology.”

Liam’s eyes flashed in interest.

“Greece has always been on my bucket list, Liam.  I’m going to make it to Santorini someday. What I’ve seen of it in movies and in books,  I have to see that in real life.”

“And you will.  Maybe I’ll make it there with you.”  

“Maybe. Thank you for the beautiful gift.”  

“Anytime love.”

His lips met hers again in a sultry kiss.  Jili melted in his arms, falling back into the pillows. 

 She could be late for work once.  

Liam at dinner that night couldn’t be more sweet and romantic.  The flowers, the music and the dancing.  He just made her feel like she was the only woman in the world when he looked at her the way he was at that moment.      

“How do you do it Liam?”

“Do what?”  He questioned her.

“Make me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world?”

“That’s easy Jili.  You are.”

Liam paid for the check and Jili booked the rideshare back to her place.   While Liam was in the restroom she got a text from the driver saying they had arrived.

“Shit!”  Jili ran out of the restaurant, texting Liam “Silver Honda accord “

She jumped into the honda.

“I’m sorry!  My boyfriend will be out in a second.”

“Jaiden Brooks?”  

“No.”

Jili glanced at her phone.

“I was sure it said silver honda accord.”  

“It is.. But there’s also one behind us.”

“And you’re not Chloe.”  

The man chuckled.  “I’ve been called a lot of names in my life,  Chloe is not one of them.”  

Jili jumped out of the vehicle barreling head first into a guy.

“Whoa, moonlighting as an offensive lineman?”  

“It’s how I went pro.”  Jili flexed her muscles.

He laughed, his soft brown eyes twinkled.  

“You take it easy now.”

“Likewise.”  

She smiled as she walked to the second Silver Honda Accord.  

Still in earshot she heard a woman come up next to him.  

“Are you serious Jai?”

“What?”  He seemed genuinely confused.

“You’re flirting and looking at some random chick right in front of me?”

Jaiden looked exasperated.  “Carmen, I wasn’t looking at her!!!!!  She ran into me, I was polite to her, that’s all.”

“You would say that now that you’ve been caught.”  

She pointed her manicured finger at him.

“I’m giving you one last chance.”  

“I WASN’T LOOKING AT HER!!!!  Carmen, you're my girlfriend!!!!”  

They climbed into the car, and Jili was sure their argument was far from over.

Liam joined her a few moments later, pulling her into his arms.  

“I’m glad we have such a healthy relationship.”

“What brought this on?”

“I just saw this couple.  I ran into the guy by accident.  The girl immediately accused him of cheating.”  

“Well…. Maybe he gave her a reason to, in their past.”  

“He really didn’t seem like the type.  He cracked a corny joke.  Seemed really kind.”

“We’ll never know Jili.”  

Author’s note:  Ohhhh But we will.  We’ll know all about Jaiden Brooks at a later date…

Bebe was out in the bar with Leo.  Something they did from time to time.  They have been a wing man/woman for each other  several times now.  That night  she had been a wing woman for him. He was chatting up a cute blonde.  Things looked to be going well for him.  He gave Bebe a wink.

She gave him a thumbs up, studying the two continuing to flirt.   The girl was cute and petite, and appeared to be hanging on Leo’s every word. He seemed interested, and they looked cute together.  

Her stomach grumbled.  Was it the foreshadowing of her monthly monster coming to wreak havoc on her life for the better part of the week rearing its ugly head early?

Bebe winced at the pair.  Tears filled her eyes.

What was that feeling?  She didn’t like it.  Had to be the cramps. She shrugged it off.

Her work was done for the night.  Leo had settled her tab, and would be leaving shortly with Ms. Blondie.  

Bebe headed for home herself, the weird feeling still tugging at her heart, her stomach still feeling a mess.

She didn’t hear from Leo for a few days.  

Until he texted her late that afternoon.

‘Sup Girl?’

‘Nothin’ much.’

‘Can I come over?’

‘Not in the mood.’

‘I didn’t ask for that. You know we have emojis for that.’

She laughed.

‘Not tonight Leo.’

Thirty minutes later there was a knock on her door.  Bebe dragged herself off the couch.

Leo had two bags of goodies.

“I got you your favorite.  Mint chocolate chip, some chocolate syrup, and your white chocolate kit kats you love, and there’s a meat lovers pizza on the way, and I got root beer and Funjuns.”  

“Leo?”  

“How did I know?  As much as I’m around, I kind of know when you go M.I.A, and why. So can I come in?”  

Bebe glanced down at herself.   She was in a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a Hartfeld Heels tee shirt.  

“You look fine, now let me in! This ice cream is going to melt.”

It was the first time Leo had been over to her place, not for sex.  

“So what are we watching?”

“The Time Traveler’s Wife.”  

“Ahhh chick flicks. Bring it on.  I’m going to put this in the freezer unless you want it now?”

Bebe took the mint chocolate chip ice cream, and syrup away from him.  

“We’re doing dessert first, I can dig it. So am I.”  

Leo liked butter pecan and had brought himself a carton as well.  He put the rest of the items on the table until the pizza arrived.

“I’m getting comfortable then alright?”

“That’s fine.”  Bebe shouted when he walked into her bedroom.  

Leo came back after a minute in her pink leopard print robe.  

She shook her head at Leo.

“What?!?!?!  I see why you bought it.  I like the way it feels on my skin.”

Leo was truly something else.

“That’s probably the pizza.”  He went to the door in the robe zero fucks given. Bebe roared in laughter.  Leo just didn’t give a damn about anything.  

Bebe found herself fishing for details.  “So I thought you’d be hanging out with Miss blondie.”

“Meh. Maddy was alright.  But she really didn’t have much of a personality.  I won’t be seeing her again. Why were you jealous?”

Bebe shrugged it off in a nonchalant way.  “No. Not at all.”  

“Trying to keep Mr. not all of him is fun sized for your own personal enjoyment?”

She hit him laughing.   She nudged his shoulder.  

“Thanks for coming over and hanging out with me.”  

He nudged her back.  “Anytime.”  

He put his arm around Bebe and both focused on the movie.  Later she relaxed to resting her head in his lap.  He softly played in her hair.  

She heard Leo sniffling towards the end of the movie. 

She glanced up at him.

“Leo, are you crying?”

“No.”  He quickly wiped his eyes.  

"The tin man really does have a heart."

"It's a sad story okay. Why couldn't they just live happily ever after?"

"That's not the way life is."

"It should be. You should be able to be with the one you want.  That wants you."

She sat up looking at Leo.

Bebe giggled. "When did you become such a hopeless romantic?"

Leo softly stroked her cheek.   

Bebe stopped giggling abruptly as she gazed into his eyes.  

There was so much fire and passion in Leo’s eyes, that Bebe gasped.

Leo’s signature smirk crossed his face, as he leaned in and claimed Bebe’s lips that were in a seductive pucker for his own.  

Tags in the comments!

[avintagekiss24]

Night Shift [3] > Andy Barber

PAIRING; Dark!Andy Barber x black!reader

WORD COUNT; 4,349

WARNINGS; SMUT, SEX, SHOWER SEX, MENTIONS OF MURDER, PANIC/ANXIETY ATTACK

► PART FOUR | SERIES MASTERLIST

NOTE; Another Sunday, another story. Hope you like :)

Gif credit goes to captslock

It’s dark. The moon bleeds into the room through the curtains covering the windows, splashing over the bed. Andy lays on his side, blinking slowly, breathing easy as he watches you sleep. His eyes wander over your frame, tucked in underneath the blankets. You’re a wild sleeper - flipping from your back to your stomach, then to your side facing away from him, and then facing him. Arms above your head and then crossed over your stomach before shoved underneath your body as you flip onto your stomach. He wonders if you’ve always had trouble sleeping; or if it’s something new. Something he brought on. 

He inhales deeply as his eyes drift down your body - those long, slender arms and delicate hands and fingers. You’ve moved so much the sheets don’t even cover most of your torso anymore. Your nipples are hard from the cool air kicking on minutes earlier. Your flesh jiggles with each little movement, each hard breath, each little murmur as your lips part and you turn your head. You’re supple, and soft - everything about you is just so soft. Your skin, your thighs, your hair, your cunt. So damn soft. 

He’s not used to soft anymore. He’s forgotten what it’s felt like, even the definition. But now, lying here, watching you, feeling you - he remembers. Laurie’s body folding into his at night was soft. Jacob’s hair when he brushed his hands over it in the morning was soft. That was so long ago. So long.

He blinks again, pushing all the thoughts of them away, returning them to you. This sad girl laying next to him in his bed. He feels bad he’s been so rough, he doesn’t mean to be, it’s just - it’s hard to be trusting. It’s easier to just sink inside of himself and lash out. It’s just easier.

Maybe you’re lashing out too? In your own way? Against that invisible force that brought you back to Boston. Maybe that’s why you’re with him right now, in his bed. Maybe you don’t sleep at all when you’re alone in your apartment. Maybe he’s helping you sleep? That could be why you’re tossing and turning - you’re not used to sleeping anymore. Same with him. 

Andy reaches out slowly, so slow that he’s not even sure his hand is moving. His fingers hover over your mouth, centimeters from your plump lips. He can feel your warm breath on his digits. His lips part when he rubs your bottom lip softly with his index finger. So fucking soft. He drags his fingers across your chin, down your throat and across your clavicles, his touch so gentle. It soothes him - brings him a little peace as he touches you. You’re so nice. 

He pulls his hand away from you and tucks it back underneath the pillow that he rests his head on. He inhales again, deep, and pushes it out through his nose as he blinks at you. He’s not sure when he falls asleep. 

----------

It’s light. The sun creeps into the room through the curtains that cover the windows. You blink over at Andy as he sleeps. He’s on his back, his arm crossed over his torso, his hand resting right in the middle of his chest, rising and falling with each breath he takes. His pink lips are slightly parted, his long, dark eyelashes spread out over his cheeks as he snores very gently. He looks peaceful - something you aren’t really used to thinking about him. Sure, you’ve spent all of two nights with the man but he’s been erratic during both - unsettled. Seeing him calm for longer than a few minutes at a time is slightly scary. 

Your mom’s boyfriend was erratic. He could go from the nicest guy on the planet to a raging maniac within the blink of an eye. Maybe that’s why you’re still here - with Andy, in his bed. Maybe it’s comforting for you? Because you’re used to it. You actually slept last night. That’s… new. You try, of course, but after about an hour, you’re awake again, your eyes fixed on the ceiling. You usually try and catch a nap in the afternoons, finding it a little easier to sleep in the daytime, but even still, just a few hours is all you can manage. 

Last night was different. It was like the past ten years of being tired just finally caught up to you. Is that because of him - Andy? Is that… a good thing? You blink as your mind races. It can’t be a good thing, he’s.. He needs help. You’re not in the position to help anybody, shit, you need help. 

He feels so good though. So strong and masculine - it’s nice. His large hands sinking into your flesh, his hard kisses, his dick - spreading you open, spearing you deep. The connection, no matter how strange, is nice. It’s been a while since you’ve had something like this. 

You reach out and place your hand on top of his, the one centered on his chest. Yours looks so small in comparison to his. It makes you smile a little - but then you get a thought, a glimpse of whose bed this used to be. How maybe she used to do the same thing, watch him sleep. Then you think about the teenage boy who would be moving around in his, getting ready for another school day just down the hall. Then you think about your mom - where she’d be, what she’d be doing right now.

You pull your hand away. 

She would get up so early in the mornings. You could hear her in the kitchen, humming along with the radio as she started the coffee. You’d hear the laundry machine kick on, and then start to smell her pancakes and eggs as the radio got just a little louder so she could dance. 

You inhale sharply - your eyes darting around the opposite wall as the invisible, overwhelming sadness suddenly fills your body. It starts at your toes and spreads through you quickly, so fast in fact, you have to sit up to keep it from choking you.  

You close your eyes as your body gets shaky, and you try and push the thoughts away. Goddamn it. Today started off so nice. You whimper as the tears start to fill your eyes, your chin shaking, and you throw your legs over the side of the bed, standing quickly. You rush into the bathroom, covering your mouth with your hands to try and stifle the sobs that threaten to escape. The tears start to fall, hard and fast as you slam your eyes shut and squeeze your hand over your mouth. 

Embarrassment flushes through you next, adding to the sadness. Here you are, in a strangers bathroom having a complete meltdown that came out of thin air. Fuck, why can’t you just be fucking normal? Don’t let him hear you, fuckin’ freak. You run into the shower as your brain scolds you, turning the knob before you fall to the floor. You bring your knees into your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you drop your head and just cry.

Today started off so nice.

----------

Andy stretches out his limbs as his eyes start to flutter. The sun is harsh, making him cover his face with his hand as he drags his brain out of it’s sleep state. He rolls over, wanting to block out the intrusion, but to also get another look at you as you sleep. He opens his eyes only to find you gone. His face falls. Maybe you- 

He hears the water running in the bathroom and then, sobs? Crying? He sits up, staring into the bathroom as he tries to really make out what he’s hearing. His eyes shift to the floor, still finding your clothing and shoes scattered around. He throws the sheets back and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, moving quickly into the bathroom. He stops at the threshold. 

He swallows as he spots you on the floor in the shower, the water cascading over you. You’re curled into yourself, your head cast down as your shoulders and back shake with the emotion flooding from you. His lips part as he looks away, half tempted to just ignore it. To put his pants on and just go downstairs and act like he didn’t see a thing. Something won’t let him leave though - something pulls at him to stay, to even comfort you. He’s been there. In that exact spot on the floor, with nothing but the warmth of the water keeping him alive. 

He moves deeper into the bathroom, his steps soft. He kneels down at the edge of the walk in shower, glancing down at his feet before he lifts his eyes to your small frame. You don't even know he’s there. He reaches out slowly and slides his hands along your shoulder - slowly - not wanting to scare you. You turn your face away from him, twisting your body so that he can’t see you, but you don't stop crying; you can’t, it seems. 

Andy stands and moves into the shower, right underneath the water. He reaches for you again, hooking his hands around your slumped shoulders and lifts you from the floor. Nobody was there for him, but he can be there for you, even if it’s just to be a body to lean into as you cry. That means something, right?

He pulls you into his chest and wraps his arms around you, running his hands up and down your back as you push your face into his chest. He rests his head on the top of yours and stares at the wall as he just lets you cry.

“There’s people that think I did it, you know.”

Your voice is small - scared. Andy glances down at you, “Did what?”

“Killed her. My mom.” She answers flatly, sniffling, “There's a website, a forum about me, about the case.”

“You shouldn’t look at that stuff.” Andy says, shutting his eyes as the memories of him finding the Bloody Barbers chatroom one grim afternoon, “They’re fucking sick, all of those people.”

“They think that I seduced him and talked him into killing her so that we could be together.” your voice breaks, and he hugs you tighter, “I was fourteen years old. How could I-”

“Listen to me,” Andy says, pulling your face into his hands. His eyes bounce back and forth between yours, “You didn’t do anything wrong, okay? You were just a kid.”

Your eyes fall from his but don’t really focus on anything. You just blink and stare, your head twitching a little every now and again as you zone out, sinking back into yourself. Andy rubs your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes moving back and forth between yours. He wants you to come back.

“Come back.” He whispers, tilting his head as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, “Come back.”

----------

“Come back.”

You don’t really hear him, but at the same time, you do. It’s like you’re in a tunnel and someone is screaming at you from the other side - you hear it, but you can’t make it out until they start moving closer. You only hear him, really hear him, when his lips start to press against yours softly. Your eyes flutter when they press again, a little harder this time as his hand slips around your side, flattening on your lower back.

“Come back, I’m here.”

You blink furiously, focusing in on his eyes as your mouth falls open. Your breath starts to rush faster as the water from overhead falls on the two of you - down his cheeks and chin, down to his chest and through the thick, dark hair that’s splashed over his pecs and stomach. You spread your fingers out on his chest, pushing them into his flesh a little, watching as they cause indentations. I’m here. He’s here. Right here, in front of you, trying to pull you back. 

Come back. I’m here. Come back.

He kisses you again, this time deep. This time, you respond. You let him kiss you, let him drag you back into the present. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back, moaning into his mouth as your tongue breaks through his lips. You’re lifted from your feet with ease. Your legs are wrapped around his waist as he holds you to him, one hand spread out on your back, the other cupping your thigh. 

You pull away and stare at him as he stares back at you. You watch as he swallows and then drops his eyes from yours, his head falling a little, “I miss them.” He says suddenly. 

You nod quickly, acknowledging his pain - and yours, “I miss her too. It doesn’t go away.”

“It doesn’t.” He answers. You run your hand down the side of his face as he shakes his head, “It won’t.”

I’m here. Come back.

You kiss him this time. This time, it’s needy. It’s a fast, messy kiss - all tongues and lips and loud smacks. You push your body into his, rocking your hips against his lower half, sliding your clit against his skin. You press the side of your face against his as his mouth travels to your neck. You hold onto him tightly as you let out a hum when his tongue slides across your clavicle. You keep pushing your hips against him, rubbing your clit against his slick, wet skin, getting a buzz. 

He’s hard. You can feel it pressing into you and you want it. You want him - inside of you, around you, suffocating you, blinding you, taking you away. You want it all. You want it all from him. You wrap your wet hand around his cock and stroke  him, your eyes wandering the side of his face as a purr rumbles against the back of his throat. You suddenly want to make him feel good too. Maybe he wants you around him, suffocating him, blinding him - taking him away. 

Maybe he wants it all from you. 

He presses your back up against the cold wall of the shower. You jump from the stark contrast of heat and cold but are soon distracted by his lips and tongue sucking your nipple and breast into his mouth. You rest your head against the wall and arch your back, pushing your chest into him as you whimper.

He pushes his cock through your folds, teasing your slit - poking at your entrance, “God,” you groan as you push your hips along his length, “Andy, please.”

He releases your breast and rests his forehead to yours, “Tell me what you want,” he pants, “Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you answer, your voice breaking again as a new onslaught of tears rush down your cheeks, “Please, I want.. I want you to take it away. I want it to go away.”

“I’m gonna take it away,” he groans, grabbing himself in his hand, “I’m gonna,” he slams into you and you both let out a noise - him hissing, you shrieking, “I’m gonna take it all away. I’ll make you feel good.”

You start to slide up the wall as his hips start to move. You dig your fingernails into his back as you bounce with each of his thrusts, “Ah- fuck! Take it all away.” You slur, “Please. Baby, please.”

You bite down into your lip, closing your eyes as he fucks into you against that cool wall. His head falls to your shoulder. Quick nips and kisses against your skin from his teeth and lips. His muscles flex beneath your fingers as he pushes into you, all the way to his hilt before he drags back out of you again. He grunts as your cunt envelopes him, your muscles clamping down on him as you clench your body tight. You want him to feel good too. 

His large hand snakes up your side to clasp over your mouth. You love how large his hands are - how just one can cover your entire face and then some. His fingers find their way into your mouth and you welcome them. Sucking, licking, nibbling on them as you grab handfuls of his wet hair to pull on. He sounds when you pull on it, grunting as pain ripples through his scalp. You love those too - love that you can draw them out of him. 

He pushes into you again, but instead of pulling out, he pushes deeper, wiggling his hips so that you can feel him in the innermost parts of your body. He kisses your neck. His tongue sweeps over the sensitive skin before he sucks. You hear a hungry moan, feel it rumble against your skin, and you shudder. God, it feels good to be full of him. 

You sink your fingers into his hair again and pull, craning his head back so that you can bask in those blue eyes again. You cup his face in your hands, tilting your head just a little as the hurt and the pain, the sorrow, the sadness in them register with your own hurt. You bounce your eyes between his as you sweep your thumb underneath his right eye before you let your fingers drop down his cheeks, to that little brown beauty mark just above the start of his beard. 

His lips part, his pupils dilate as you lean in and kiss the spot, the small brown one. It’s tender - understanding - the kiss. One that surprises him. You can see it in his eyes when you pull away. He looks at you like he doesn’t deserve it, the understanding, the tender. 

You pull him into your chest again, wrapping your hands around his neck, hugging him to you. You nuzzle your face against his and pull your hips back before you sink down on him, wanting him to move once more. He follows your lead, but it’s different now. Slower, sweeter. He pushes a hand into the wall, grounding himself as the other arm slinks around your waist, grabbing your flesh, digging into it with his fingernails. 

You hook your ankles together, your heels bouncing off of the small of his back as he fucks you against the wall of the shower. Your wet skin slides against one another, the heat from the water steams up the glass walls and the large mirror that hangs over the dual sinks. His lips are on yours again, pulling, sucking them into his mouth before his tongue skims along your bottom one.

He rests his forehead to yours again - your noses rubbing along one another - your mouths stealing each others breaths as you push them out. You feel that dull ache in the pit of your stomach as he starts to massage it, coaxing it out of hiding. Your toes start to curl with each shove of his hips. Your thighs start to shake. You feel him feel it too - his muscles tense suddenly, his hips hitch unexpectedly. 

Within minutes, you’re writhing against him. It’s so close, like a name that is right on the tip of your tongue. You almost have it. You are loud -  panting, mewling, damn near crying as your heart thumps in your ears and throat. All you can hear is your blood rushing through your veins. All you feel is his rippled muscles flexing, straining in your hands and that wonderful sting at your clit. 

You slip your hand between your wet body and just the slightest touch from your fingers against that little bundle of nerves sends you right over the edge. You throw your head back as you come, your body tensing and jerking with each ripple of your orgasm. You scream out, your voice muted by the water as you drag your nails down his broad back, doing all you can to push your hips into his for more, more, more.

Andy grows louder. His body, unable to take the heat of your cunt, your clenched, convulsing muscles around him any longer. Then you’re hot, your insides, as he ruts into you hard and fast, spilling his seed into you. You take every spurt, every pump of his hips, letting him fill you up. You love being full of him, all of him. You kiss him, eating every grunt, every hiss that leaks from his perfect, pretty mouth. 

Then, it’s over. You’re just heavy breaths, heaving chests, closed eyes, and pruned skin. He doesn’t pull out of you right away like you expect him to. He stays buried inside of you for a while, until his breathing has calmed and the rush and adrenaline of it all is gone. Only then, does he retreat from your tight warmth to stand you on your feet. The water starts to cool but it’s welcomed as the humidity starts to make you dizzy. Andy keeps a hand around your waist as he steps behind you and reaches for his loofah. He squeezes a dollop of body wash onto it and starts to clean you. 

You lean back into him, resting your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as he washes you - taking his time. Every inch of your skin is cleansed - stripped of yesterday’s dirt and grime. Underneath your breasts, the bottoms of your feet, the back of your neck - nothing left untouched. 

You return the favor. You take the loofah from his hands and turn him around to start with his back and shoulders. You feel him physically relax, watch as his shoulders slump a little as you brush over them. Reaching around to his chest and stomach, you press your lips into his shoulder blades, kissing him sweetly as you wash yesterday away from him. You rest your free hand to his chest as your wash the thick hair at his navel and below, paying special attention to his now soft sex. You didn’t realize how long his legs were until now. How firm his thighs are. He’s beautiful. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you finally exit the shower. Andy wraps you up in a fluffy towel before he exits the bathroom, rubbing his own towel over his wet hair. When you move out into the bedroom a few minutes later, your jeans, t-shirt and hoodie are laid out on the bed, along with an old, faded college t-shirt. 

You glance over at him as he pulls a shirt over his head. He shrugs, “If you want to wear it. You don’t have to.” He clears his throat as he pulls his eyes from yours, “I have some boxers too, if you don’t want to-”

“Thank you,” you offer gently, holding out your hand. 

He plucks a clean pair from his nightstand and hands them to you before he moves back around the bed, brushing past you to move into the bathroom. You dress quickly, slipping into his underwear and shirt before you pull your jeans up, having to jump a little to get them over your butt. You feel his eyes on you from the bathroom, but you know why. He probably used to watch her dress in the morning too. 

You move into the bathroom with him. There is a brand new toothbrush, still in the packaging sitting on the counter. You don’t make eye contact as you rip the thin cardboard open and turn on the sink, wetting it quickly. You brush your teeth as he runs his fingers through his hair and trims his beard. Once you’re finished and he’s finished, you both move down the stairs and into the kitchen, where you lean against the counter as he moves around. 

“Hungry?”

You shake your head, “Not really, no. You?”

“Not a big breakfast guy.” He clears his throat again, “Do you um, do you have school today?”

You nod, smiling a little as you keep your eyes cast towards your feet, “Yeah.”

“Okay. Do you want me to uh, do want me to take you, or do you feel more comfortable getting an Uber or something.”

“You can take me. That’s fine.”

“Now? Or-”

“Yeah, I need to hit the library. Didn’t get to study last night.”

He chuckles at your dry joke. You smile at the fact that you made him chuckle. 

The drive is quiet, neither one of you being big talkers. It’s okay though, you don’t need to talk, not after what you shared. The emotion. The understanding. If you never see each other again, it’ll somehow all be okay. 

He stops right in front of the library, in the exact spot he plucked you from the day before. You don’t get out immediately. You sit together, twirling the strap of your bag in your fingers before you turn to face him, “Thank you, for the ride and for um, last night and this morning.”

“Don’t thank me. You had a lot to do with it too.”

You laugh a little, “Yeah. Maybe um, you know, maybe we can-”

“Sure. Sure, sure.” He nods quickly, “You want my number or?”

“Yeah, I don’t need you stalking me anymore.” You smile, making him laugh again. 

You program his number into your phone before slipping it back into your bag. You open the door and go to step out before he grabs your wrist, pulling you back into the car. Before you can speak, he crashes his lips to yours in one long, sweet, sweeping kiss - taking the air right out of your lungs. 

He pulls away, leaving you yearning for more, your lips swollen. You stagger out of the car, swallowing hard as you try and catch your breath. He pulls off without another word or even a second glance. You stand there, almost stupid from the culmination of the last twelve hours or so, watching as his tail lights get smaller and smaller and then disappear. A breeze whips around you as you turn your head to the side, blinking slowly. What is going on?

[captaincravatthecapricious]

I Thought I Could Trust You- Prompt Fill

 CWs: panic attacks, mental health issues, suicidal thoughts kind of? (Jon wishing that if someone is going to kill him that they would just get it over with), paranoia, insomnia, season 2 Jon and all his issues. Yes basically same as last chapter.  Oh and Food and asthma.  

This is basically a follow up for It Was My Job to Protect You

For Someone on Ao3 whose name escapes me because I haven’t slept well or recently and I am so sorry.  If it’s you please let me know!

LAST BINGO! FINALLY.  I am taking "things you said" prompts, come drop me one of those prompts for Jon, Martin, or Tim!  I am very tired and can't remember if I proofread, so sorry in advance, or in past tense I don't know anymore time is fake and so is the order in which we perceive events.  Have a lovely stretch in your existence.  Card by the wonderful @celosiaa​!  Also very much inspired by @janekfan​

Jon can hardly keep his eyes open.   The stairs were almost too much for him.   Wavering before his eyes and pulling on his heavy limbs, aching and shaky from his earlier panic attack.   

It’s not like he can ask for help.  And even if he could, Martin is just as badly off.  And Tim... Tim scares him.  

Tim is loud.  Tim is angry.  Which is Jon’s own fault.  If he hasn’t been following Tim, Tim would be boisterous, not shouting.  Jon wouldn’t have learned to flinch when he talks.  To flinch when he moves.  

And he wants to trust him but he’s afraid.  And if Martin didn’t kill Gertrude, that makes it all the more likely that Tim did.  

But no.  No.  Tim is his friend, right?  Was his friend.  

But all worry of letting him into his flat vanishes when the climb steals his hard-earned air from his lungs.  Leaving him swaying and gasping on the landing.  

Tim’s speaking and Jon flinches away.  Almost teetering down the stairs, before he’s caught.  By Tim.  

“Oi, steady on, boss!”

Almost drown out by his breathing.  Narrow chest heaving with effort and none of it reaching his brain.  

“Hey Jon, could you maybe hold off on passing out on me until you give me your keys?”  

Is that what Tim had been talking about?  

Keyes, he can do that.  Right?  

But enervated fingers fumble with them in his pocket and he can’t grasp them.  To his unending shame, he feels tears on his cheeks.  

At least Martin is too out of it from his own panic attack earlier to notice.  Much as the comfort would be welcome.  It would also be stifling and even more embarrassing.   

“Jon?”   Still too loud.  Tim’s too loud too close still steadying him physically which is still sending him further off balance.  “Never mind, I’ll use mine.”  

Because right.  Tim had a key.  Which Jon has been regretting because too loud too angry Tim could slit his throat while he sleeps but he doesn’t have it in him to change the locks so he’s been putting wedges under all of his doors.  Ugly old wooden things that scuff the floor but that’s fine if it keeps him alive a little longer.  Warns him early enough to arm himself.  Although.  Dying quickly without any fuss sounds... like a luxury.  

Tim guides an overly pliant Martin to Jon’s understuffed and threadbare sofa.  He tries to guide Jon to the bedroom before Jon’s knees buckle but Jon doesn’t want to be put to bed.  He doesn’t want Tim in attended.  He wants to trust Tim.  But he can’t.  

Much as Jon wants to sink into his bed and make up for all the sleep he’s missed over... well over the course of his whole life, he can’t leave Tim alone.  Unsupervised.  

Can’t let Tim kill him.  Or poor, exhausted Martin on the couch.  Or risk some other person breaking in and killing them all.  

Jon isn’t sure if it would be better to be killed by someone he knows and once called a friend.  

He isn’t sure.  

But when Tim goes to the kitchen to make them all some food which Jon’s lackluster supplies, Jon follows. 

Jon can’t keep his eyes open.  Hyper vigilant to the sounds of the kitchen.  But he can’t keep his eyes open.  And… it might be welcome if Tim’s curry ends up killing him.  So long as the poison does its work quickly.  

He doesn’t want to die, not really.  He’d very much like to survive, but surviving is exhausting, and maybe he wouldn’t mind too much if he just… wasn’t.  He doesn’t want to be a mystery, but he doesn’t want to be afraid anymore… to Hurt anymore.  And he is so exhausted that he does Hurt.  Endlessly.  Not to mention the ragged holes in his skin, still inching ever closer to being ugly scars… or they would be if he could stop worrying them… making them bleed.  

But as tired as he is, it doesn’t stop him from being afraid.  Afraid of dying?  Or maybe just the fear of not knowing When the end is coming.  If he only knew, then he could relax until it was actually imminent.  Not just remaining alert every moment.  

Christ he wants to sleep.  

And… he does… in a way.  He dozes while Tim cooks.  

But he’s afraid that it’s poisoned.  He is afraid Tim will be angry if he can’t make himself eat it for fear… then again it probably won’t be dangerous because Tim and Martin will presumably also be eating…

He wakes up to a clatter of something.  He wakes up with numbed arms and a pounding pulse.  He wakes up with Tim too close holding a knife.  

And later he can parse out, Tim is only too close because he is picking up the cutting board that fell off Jon’s cluttered and diminutive counter, but all he sees is Tim with a knife, Tim cursing loudly.  And he can’t even scream because his chest is too tight.  

This is it.  This is the end of Jonathan Sims.  

He’s going to die.  He is certain he is.  

He shrieks.  And aborted, choked off sound.  Pathetic.  

And he almost thought he could trust Tim.  He almost thought he could trust him.  Almost.  

When Tim drops the knife and makes his posture as non-threatening as possible, Jon hates himself.  Still unable to draw a full breath, and he Hates himself.  

He’s broken Tim’s trust again by not trusting him.  Again.  Not even the first time today.  He wants to tear himself up from the inside out, flacking little bits of old and poorly preserved parchment.  Wants to make those lines appear and send tiny flakes of paper and dust flying and have no more of himself.  Nothing left.  Just this gaping chasm.  Which is all he deserves really.  Leaving nothing but a mess, just like always.  Horrible… wretched… selfish… guilty… pathetic…  What is WRONG with him.  This is Tim.  Tim.  His first friend at the institute.  Tim who has always been there for him.  Until Jon went and Fucked it up.  Properly fucked it up, with no way back.  And.. And… FUCK.  

He’s crying again.  Making a proper fool of himself.  

“Jon?”  

He can’t look at Tim.  Can’t catch his breath.  Catching and wheezing in a way that is pitting the asthma against the panic and making them both all the worse.  

Tim isn’t as gentle as he can be when he shoves the inhaler at Jon for the second time today.  But Jon’s been sitting at the edge of a panic attack for weeks, and this time, it had been his fault.  Not his fault that Jon’s been a jumpy paranoid wreck, but his fault for being loud and angry and threatening and waving a knife around in front of the nervous wreck that used to be his friend.  

“Jon, you’ve got to use the inhaler.  If you don’t breath, I’m gonna wake Martin from his nap.  And he’s gonna be pissed at me, and if he gets pissed at me, I’m gonna get pissed at you, and you don’t want that.”  

Probably a mistake to threaten the person afraid of you, but he can’t fix his anger in one day.  Not until Jon puts in the work too.  

Okay he gets it.  Jon can’t exactly help being paranoid.  He isn’t gonna shame Jon for having shit mental health.  That would make him a bloody hypocrite.  But… Jon did not handle it well.  You’re supposed to reach out if you’re having a breakdown!  (Yes he knows… he’s still a bloody hypocrite but Less of one).  So… Jon’s gonna have to make an effort, and Tim… will try to be less …threatening?  Loud?  Big?  

Jon stops stalking him, Tim takes a good snoop around his flat, they take turns keeping watch for monsters so maybe they can get some goddamned sleep.  Simple enough!  

If Jon can stop having a panic attack while he’s trying to cook!

No… No.  Not gonna be angry at Jon for having another panic attack.  Hardly even came down from the last one.  Still too paranoid to leave Tim alone in the kitchen, stubborn bastard.  And what kind of an idiot only has a few withered vegetables in his fridge?  

(The kind who is too paranoid to eat non-packaged food, Tim does NOT think to himself).  

Still.  Jon should have reached out.  should have said something before it got this bad!  This isn’t Tim’s Fault.  He didn’t help, sure, but it isn’t his Fault!  And he isn’t going to apologize and he isn’t going to forgive Jon.  (At least for now).  

Jon has to be better.  Try to be better.  Tim will meet him halfway, but Jon has to make the first step, and use the goddamn inhaler.  But the threatening just made it worse.  

Jon looking frail and skinny and tired, hands over his head again, bracing for an attack.  Just like in his office, just like on the stairs.  Crumped up in such a way that even if he weren’t having an asthma attack and a panic attack, it would probably still be hard to breathe.  

“Boss, you’ve got to breathe.  We did this earlier, I didn’t kill you then.  Not gonna kill you now.”  Tim moves slowly so Jon isn’t surprised, and guides him a little straighter in his chair, holding the inhaler for him, as Jon’s finger tips (and lips) are going blue.  

And Jon’s still fighting him, although quickly losing what little strength he had to begin with.  

It takes some soothing before Jon lets him near enough to get the inhaler in his mouth.  “That’s good, boss.  That’s it, bud.  Now breathe with me.”  

He has a hand on Jon’s narrow chest now.  Sticky with cold sweat, heaving unevenly.  And Tim can’t believe how fragile his friend(?) has become.  

But as soon as Jon has breath in his body, the apologies start flowing out.  

“Hey, now.  None of that now.  You can apologize until you’re blue in the face once you’re not, ya know… literally blue in the face.  I do want those, but not until you’ve gotten some sleep and you eat some of this damn fine curry that I am somehow making from your truly pathetic supplies.  I’ll take the first watch, then we can talk about it, and you can actually start doing better.  Because that’s what I want.  I want you to stop hiding from us.  I get it, you can’t trust right now.  Fine.  But what you’ve been doing isn’t okay.  You don’t trust me.  That’s …well not fine, but I get it.  I do.  But stalking us, and yelling at Martin, and hiding from us isn’t how to deal with that.  You don’t trust us, so tell us how to help.  How can we prove to you that we aren’t gonna hurt you?  So you can’t help being a paranoid wreck, that’s understandable, but you can’t take that out on us.  That isn’t okay.  So first curry, then sleep.  Then we’ll talk.  Okay?”  

And Jon nods.  Allowing himself to be helped to the couch while Tim finishes dinner.  

[keroujack]

aside from opening up/sharing his feelings, what do you think billy struggles with the most when he transitions from being an island (always alone, untrusting, etc) to being part of a loving relationship w steve?? I can't imagine it's easy and I am interested in hearing if you have any hcs about little behaviors or things he has to adjust

ooF THIS IS A GOOD ONE, and ig this sort of goes along with what you’re saying but

i think one of the things that billy doesn’t understand, that takes the longest to adjust to, is that he has somewhere to go now. when things go wrong at home

he doesn’t want to bother steve and he doesn’t want to look like a sob story and even though he does go to steve’s more often than not, sometimes he doesn’t. doesn’t want steve to see the bruising on his cheeks, the blood on his mouth, the red rings around his eyes

doesn’t want to be a burden

so nine times out of ten, he’ll go to steve’s, but that rare One (1) Time, he’ll sleep in his car. will sneak into school early to catch a shower in the locker room and walk around all day in the hoodie he keeps in the trunk of his car because it’s clean (he specifically keeps it clean for days like this)

only, one morning, before he can get out of the car and run to the locker room before anyone can see him, he hears the wrap of a fist against the window

wakes with a gasp and opens his eyes, sees steve’s staring back at him, through the glass. brow knitted tight, with concern, confusion

billy runs a hand through his hair, blinks the sleep out of his eyes, gets out of the car and goes for casual even though he knows his lip is split, that there’s gotta be a stain of purple somewhere along his jaw

he stands and shoves his hands into his pockets, leans with his shoulder against the camaro. smiles even though it’s going to reopen the cut and knows he’s right when he runs his tongue over it and tastes copper

steve’s not smiling, though. not like he is. doesn’t look happy to see him. like he normally does

billy tries to play it off, drags his eyes down steve’s body, the sweater he’s got stretched across his shoulders, his chest, the dark jeans that always make his legs look long and the white nikes that are so well-worn, the bottoms are starting to look a little brown

says, “morning, pretty boy,” all lazy. easy. like he does on mornings when they wake up in bed, in steve’s bed. together

but the words don’t make steve smile, don’t make steve’s cheeks go red like billy wants

“were you out here all night?” his voice is pinched, pained, and billy hates it. doesn’t understand why exactly it’s pulled so tight like that

tries, again, to play it off with a half a shrug, brings a shoulder up towards his ear and lets it go. “just a couple hours,” he says, keeps the smile on his lips so that steve’ll know that he’s okay, that he’s fine, it’s fine. “don’t worry about it”

he isn’t expecting the way steve’s face falls. 

the way his eyes widen, the way his mouth drops open

the way the words leave his mouth with something like a gasp. “don’t worry about it?” billy’s got another shrug ready, a nope waiting on the tip of his tongue, but steve doesn’t give him the chance to say it. keeps going. “i get a call from max at two o’clock in the morning that you left and never came home and i’m not supposed to worry about it?”

billy hesitates at that. breathes. swallows. understands that steve’s upset, but doesn’t want him to be. doesn’t want to be another thing steve has to worry about all the time

“i didn’t ask her to do that,” he says, and the way steve narrows his eyes tells him it was the wrong thing to say

but it’s the truth, and billy’s not a liar. he could’ve said a million different things, could’ve told a million different lies to play it off, but he doesn’t do that

not with steve. he’s always been a little too honest with steve 

steve, who says, “that’s not the point and you know it,” without a shred of doubt and sends billy’s heart to sit heavier in his chest, an anchor that holds him in place, that keeps his eyes locked in steve’s, is looking right at him when he asks, “why didn’t you come over?”

wants to look away, but can’t. blinks, to try and fight it. shakes his head, brings his shoulder back up, less to shrug and more to protect himself. to hide himself away

“didn’t want to bug you,” he says, and only just keeps his breath from catching when steve takes another step closer

closer than he normally does, in public, but it’s still so early that they’re the only ones in the parking lot, will be the only ones there for a while

billy can see the pink, the morning flush hidden high in his cheeks. the dark warmth hidden in his irises. the disbelief hidden in his mouth, his voice, his tone

“why would you be bugging me?”

“i don’t know,” and billy finally does lose steve’s eyes at that. lets them drift low, focuses them, locks them on the three little moles that dot steve’s cheek, that billy likes to trace his thumb over, likes to trace his lips over. “it was kinda late”

“max said you left around ten.” 

he did, and he doesn’t try to deny it. tries instead to hide some more

“didn’t know if you were asleep,” he says, which is technically the first lie he’s told all morning

knows he’s caught when all steve says is, “billy,” because billy knows for damn sure that steve doesn’t sleep right, that the earliest he goes to sleep is one or two and that the only time he actually sleeps through the night is when billy is there in the bed next to him

is powerless to the finger steve hooks under his chin, the one steve uses to tilt his head up, to make him look him in the eyes

to send the truth to come spilling out

“you’re gonna get sick of it,” billy says, and maybe it’s not the whole truth, but it’s closer, and if the way steve tilts his head is anything to go by, he knows that, too

even if his voice is pitched up. even if it’s soft. the thumb he runs along billy’s chin, even softer

“gonna get sick of what?” 

“you know,” he says, and reaches out, hooks two fingers through one of steve’s belt loops. needs to touch him somehow. to ground himself. steady himself. "dealing with me. with all this shit”

“i’m not dealing with anything,” steve says, serious. even. honest. “whether you like it or not, i actually like. give a fuck about you.”

billy feels his fingers tighten in steve’s belt loop, feels the way the air leaves his lungs, his nose when he sighs. “steve-”

“and what i’m gonna get sick of,” steve starts, and taps on billy’s chin to make sure he’s paying attention, that he’s listening, as if billy’s ever paying attention to anything else, to anyone else, “is you pretending like you gotta go this alone.”

and he pauses there. holds billy’s eyes and lets the air, the silence settle heavy around them. lets it rattle in billy’s skull, fill the empty gaps in his chest. 

“i don’t care what time it is or even if you gotta sleep over every night of the week,” he says, and slides his hand over so that he’s holding the side of billy’s neck, palm warm and wide and sure. “you know i got room for you.”

and the way he says it, slow and confident, lets billy know that there’s more hidden in the words than steve wants to give away

that he’s not just offering billy a place to stay, but a place in his life, in his heart

“i know,” billy says, because he does, hopes steve can hear the me too and the i got room for you, too he’s got hiding in them, just below the surface. “i know.”

“okay,” steve says. tilts his head forward and leans his forehead against billy’s for a second, doesn’t kiss him because they’re still too far in the open. they might be alone, but alone doesn’t exactly mean safe in a place like hawkins, but billy knows he wants to, knows he would, if he could, and for right now, for right here, that’s enough. “you’ll come over next time?”

and billy nods, knows it’s enough when he says, “yeah,” but tacks on a, “promise,” anyway, so that steve knows he’s serious

that next time, he’ll be there

next time, he’ll remember he doesn’t have to go it alone

that there’s room for him in steve’s life just like there’s room for steve in his, and can only hope there always will be

[amelialincoln]

The Way Life Goes

This is my post finale fic. Will def be 2+ parts. Hope u enjoy

TW: substance abuse

The look he wore on his face was a mixture of confusion and betrayal and it made her want to run away and hide. She found herself wondering how he could feel betrayed. She had told him exactly what she wanted and it was exactly the opposite of what was happening at this very moment. If anything, she should be the one looking at him like that. She couldn’t bring herself to glance in the direction of her nieces and nephew. She found herself wondering how many people were in on this, how many people she was going to disappoint yet again. Link had always told Ellis she’d be their flower girl and Amelia couldn’t imagine how excited she was when Link had told her that they were going to get married. She blinked hard, wondering for a moment if she was going to throw up.

When she opened her eyes again he was standing on both feet, collecting the tiny boxes, that she refused to look at, from the kid’s hands. Were they supposed to go dance now like everything was okay? This was supposed to be Maggie’s day, why would he make it about them? She felt that familiar impending feeling, in the pit of her stomach, that she had just fucked everything up. Still, she was stuck frozen in place. She wanted to say something to him to fix this. She wished she could just say yes. For the sake of him, Scout, and for everyone who works at the damn hospital and is tired of putting up with her shit.

The kids ran off and it was the two of them. He was kicking sand with his feet, dirting up the shoes he’d spent so much time polishing the night before.

“So what now then?” He questioned bitterly.

“I don’t know,” she choked out, the only thing she could think of to say. He shook his head and let out a sour chuckle. He muttered something that she felt grateful not to hear before pushing past her and storming back to the after party. She found herself guiltily wondering if he was going to find Jo, who always seemed ready to give him shitty advice whenever they were having a fight. Maybe they’d decide that they had actually loved each other the whole time. That idea felt like a knife to the heart but she also felt a sense of relief, knowing that at least he’d have found someone who deserves him. Someone who can be all the things that she can’t. Someone who can make him happy.

The tide was coming in and water was lapping gently against her ankles. It was cold but she couldn’t really feel it. The music had died down and she could see people vacating the reception. The after party would be held at Meredith’s. She was supposed to be helping host it. She sat down, her dress clinging to her small frame as the bottom half became submerged in the clear water. She’d wait until everyone was gone. Until every person that would offer her sympathy or judgment had driven away. Not until, most likely, the sun had dipped into the glittering water that shone in the horizon and until the beach was surrounded in darkness.

He had taken the car, she’d realized, as she stood shivering and soggy in the empty parking lot. Why the hell would he take the car? The answer was simple, he’d assumed that she would’ve caught a ride with Meredith, to get to the house early. That was the plan even before he’d pulled out that ring box. But the whole situation made her even more pissed. Her phone was at 8% and she opened the maps app quickly, eyeing if anything was around. It was the park, less than a kilometer away, that caught her eye. She knew exactly what happened in that park. She recognized the name since it had been brought up in almost half of the addicts at her meeting’s backstories. That park had exactly what her entire body was craving and suddenly it overcame all of her thoughts.

The thing was that she had already fucked everything up. She couldn’t go to Mer’s. She couldn’t go to Link’s apartment. She had nowhere to go. No one to talk to who wouldn’t express some form of judgment. Unlike every person she was now close with, the people at the park wouldn’t care. If anything, those people understood her more than anyone else. The comfort of being surrounded by people who also needed to escape from their unbearable and insufferable lives was intoxicating.

The first bonfire was filled with teenagers. She grimaced slightly before realizing she was in no place to judge. Since when had she become so judgmental? It was her coworkers, her brain was screaming at her. She was becoming one of those egotistical people she used to hate, who had the idea that they were better than everyone else. The type of people who had convinced her that something was wrong with her. The type of people who couldn’t mind their own business for once in their life. She pulled her hoodie tighter around her wet dress as she approached the next blaze.

“Hey,” a woman greeted her gruffly, probably only a couple of years older than her. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here?” The woman was giving her a look of resentment that only Amelia could really understand. She wanted to laugh but instead gave her an uninterested shrug.

“What do you have?” She asked, pulling out her wallet.

“Come take a seat and I’ll show you.” She reminded Amelia of one of her dealers in California except without the little toddler who would always be following his drugged up mother around. There was a strange comfort that this woman provided though, Amelia realized as she settled onto the log between her and a man she’d probably sleep with, by the look of him, if she wasn’t in a relationship. Was she still in a relationship? She passed the woman whatever bills she kept in her wallet and turned to the man beside her.

“What do you recommend?” He looked as if he was having the best trip of his life. He eyed her softly, his vision slightly glazed over before nodding to the syringe the woman was offering.

“Well, what do you like?” He asked simply, scratching his prickly beard with his index finger and eyeing her wet dress with confusion.

“Oxy,” she replied, her eyes glancing over to the little bags and boxes in the women's impressive stash. Watching as he smirked slightly and opened his palms up to the warmth of the fire with a shake of his head.

“You’ll like this then. Camilla's got you.” he confirmed. “If you can handle it.” There was a small kind and teasing tone to his voice and it relaxed her slightly.

“Alright,” she shrugged calmly as she stretched her arm out in the direction of the women and waited for the world to fade away.

Find part 2 here

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Rudy Pankow x reader

Requested by anon // Summary: You and Rudy play the Maybank siblings on the Outer Banks and are good friends off set. Rudy comforts you after your boyfriend cheats on you. 

A/N: This is my first Rudy Pankow x reader... Leave some feedback?? I would love to start writing for Rudy, Drew, Chase, and JD. 

I hope you guys enjoy it! Also, if you’re still waiting for a request, i’d like to apologize for taking so long and ask you to be patient. I promise, I will get to them:)  My mental state hasn’t been the best the last week and I’ve been taking some time to myself. 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

“Damn it JJ, don’t be stupid!” Your character huffs as she follows her brother in the yard.

“He touched you y/character’s/n, I’m going to kick his ass!” JJ, or Rudy, faces you. It takes everything you have not to laugh and not break character.

“and.. cut! Great guys, that’s a wrap for today!” The director announces.

You let out a laugh as soon as he says cut. Rudy shakes his head at you, starting to laugh, “Seriously, y/n? Again?”

You nod, “I can’t help it. You do this thing with your face and I lose it.” You hold your stomach in laughter.

“I will give you something to laugh about.” He holds his hands up, ready to tickle you.

Your face goes serious and you point a finger at Rudy, “Don’t do it.”

He smirks, “Imma do it.” He then attacks your side in tickles.

You erupt in laughter, “r-rudy please! Stop!”

He chuckles, stopping, “fine. Only cause you said please.”

~

The two of you head back to your trailers, “You want to go out with us tonight?” Rudy asks as the two of you walk up to your trailers, which were side by side.

“We got done early, I think I’ll head home and surprise Brad.” You smile, opening your door, “Thank you though!”

Rudy nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “Well, you know where to find us.” He gives you a small smile. He was disappointed you wouldn’t be tagging along to the dinner. He loved spending time with you. However, you were taken, and he didn’t have a chance. Doesn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy being your friend and hanging out with you.

~

“Surprise! I’m home early!” You announce opening the door of your apartment. As you started to slip off your shoes, you could hear a commotion coming from the bedroom. You frown and head that way when you heard a woman’s voice, “Where is my underwear!”

You didn’t even hesitate. You threw open the bedroom door. There was a half naked woman and your boyfriend scurring around the room, picking up clothes around the room.

“B-babe.. uh what are you doing home early?” Brad, your boyfriend stutters.

You laugh, shaking your head, “Get the fuck out!”

“Babe come on.. it was a mistake!” Brad says, coming near you.

You put your hands out in front of you and push his chest, sending him stumbling back away from you, “I said get the fuck out!”

~

You didn’t want too, but you had a job to do. You had to pull yourself out of bed and head to work. It was your job, even if you felt and looked like shit.

You sat on your couch in your trailer, already crying as you wait for make up to come in. You jumped a little at a knock on the door.

“y/n?” It was Rudy.

You grab the tissues off the couch and wipe your eyes, “come in!”

He slowly opens the door and immediately knows something is wrong, “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He shuts the door behind him as he steps in and walks over to you on the couch. He’s already dressed in his JJ Maybank attire. 

“I um.. I caught Brad cheating last night.” You laugh a little, wiping your eyes.

“y/n.. god I’m so sorry.” He whispers, slowly sitting next to you.

“It’s okay. I mean she was prettier than me anyways.”

He shakes his head and pulls you into his arms, that’s when you break into sobs again. “I can bet money she was not prettier than you, y/n.”

You sob into his chest as his arms tighten around your frame, “Why did he do this to us?”

“Cause he’s a fucking idiot.” He breaths out, “A fucking idiot for thinking someone was better than you.” He rubs circles along your back, “You are the most beautiful, talented, kind and smart woman and any man would be lucky to have you. He obviously didn’t know what he had.”

“How is it you always know the right things to say?” You laugh a little, wiping your eyes with the tissue in your hands.

He chuckles softly, “Guess, I’m just good like that.” He reaches around you and grabs another tissue, handing it to you.

“You’re a really great guy, Rudy. I mean it.” You lay your hands in your lap, looking at him, “You’ve been my person ever since we met.”

He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, “My person huh? You’ve been watching way  too much Grey’s.”

Both of you begin to laugh as you nod. Slowly, the laughter begins to die down and there’s a comfortable silence fallen between the two of you. “I love you, Rudy.” You reach and take his hand in yours, giving a light squeeze.

“I love you too.” He knows your I love you has always been in a friend way and it may always be that way, but his, it’s never been. He’s loved you more than a friend for months and he wished he’d told you before Brad so he could have saved you this heartbreak. However, he knew in a way, the world was giving him a second chance to tell you.

It wouldn’t be in this moment, but when the moment was right, he’d confess his love for you.

Obx taglist: @poguestyleskye , @alexa-playafricabytoto , @kaelyn-lobrutto24 , @prejudic3 , @turtlee-says-rawr , @outrbank , @k-k0129 , @annedub , @rockyyc77​ , @ilovejjmaybank​ , @treestarrrrrrrr​ , @thedarkqueenofavalon​ , @write-from-the-heart​ , @eclecticpuppyhollywoodhumanoid , @lasnaro​ , @kiarasgold​ , @normatural​ , @kaylinfayezink​ , @lordsagittarius​ , @moose-squirrel-asstiel​ , @thelovelydreamer17​ , @chasefreakinstokes​ , @fanficscuziranout​ , @diverrdown​ , @tregua-oca​ , @junkiemuppettxx​ , @afterglowsb-tch13​ , @hardyxlove​ , @cinnamon-roll-seth​

(I hope it’s okay I tagged all the JJ Maybank people and the OBX taglist! I figured you guys would enjoy being tagged in Rudy as well:) 

JJ Maybank taglist: @thatweirdblonde​ ,  @saltwatercowb0y​ , @popcrone818​ , @thee-sex​ , @coni-martina​ , @pm-my-hubbies​ , @timotaychalabae​ , @katiaw2​ , @maybebanks​ , @sataninsatin​ , @obx-beach​ , @fangirlvoice​ , @lolitstiana​ , @teamnick​ , @danicarosaline​ , @losers-club6​ , @bananasfromtarget​ , @jasminesuperstar123456789​ , @fratboystark​ , @notmcchkn​ ,

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​