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#got it at a con i think literally ten years ago

afewproblems · 11 months

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WIP Wednesday

I'm actually posting on WIP Wednesday, the stars have finally aligned in my favour!

Thank you to @outpastthebrakers for your tag today and @steves-strapcollection for your multiple tags before - its finally lined up today!!

Here is Part Two of my follow up to this Post (Steddie Breakup) hopefully with a Steddie makeup/fix-it future!

(Also! Important to note, season four - specifically the stuff with Vecna- Never happened in this AU)

***

Two Years later - 1987, Chicago, IL

Steve picks up another box from the back of the beemer. This one has, 'Steve's Obnoxious Hair Care,' neatly printed on the side in bold black sharpie --Steve snorts at the sight and vows to never let Robin help him pack ever again.

He walks up the three flights and through the propped open front door to the two bedroom apartment.

It's small, just barely enough for two people, but in downtown Chicago, it's a steal at the price.

And it's theirs.

"Hey Birdie," Steve calls out from the kitchen, he sets the box down on the counter, turning his head to the left slightly to listen for her shuffling. The dull ringing in his right ear makes it more difficult, present ever since he left his parents house for good.

It had gotten even worse since their Russian encounter, but if he's weighing the pros and the cons of that night, he's glad he got Robin out of the deal.

Steve steps into the living room just off the kitchen, "Robin?"

Bright sunlight streams through the curtainless windows bathing Robin in a warm yellow glow.

She stands in the center, facing Steve, with a pensive expression, her eyes scanning the space around her.

"Hush Dingus," she mutters, holding up her pointer finger to her lips, "I'm visualizing".

"Ah, of course," he concedes with a fond smile as Robin walks towards him slowly counting her steps. She lines her feet up as she moves, touching the toe of her right foot to the heel of her left. She wobbles slightly as she makes it to where Steve is standing, he reaches out to steady her with a laugh.

"I told you the living room was more than ten feet!"

"Robin, do you think that a 'foot' is literally your foot?"

Robin sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes, before plucking the measuring tape from where it was clipped to her back pocket, "you have no concept of joy, you refuse to let me live".

"Yeah, yeah, so hard done by," he snorts as she sticks her tongue out at him and leans down to pick up one of the empty boxes.

She sighs and looks around the space again with a contented expression before looking at Steve, "well, Dingus, I think we did good".

Steve nods and tries to smile back but the expression doesn't quite meet his eyes, Robin tilts her head, turning the box over in her hands at the corners.

"What's wrong?" She says softly, anxiously, her blue eyes dart over his face, "is it a migraine? Do you need your meds?"

Steve shakes his head, wincing before he can stop himself, he knows Robin's brain would come up with the worst case scenario first. And, to be fair to her, she had seen the worst case scenarios and after effects of the Russian interrogation, she'd held his hand after spilling his guts from the nausea and halos in his vision, she'd insisted he buy blackout blinds for his room because, 'you never know when you'll need them Dingus, you won't always get one of these at night'.

Steve shakes his head, "no, it's not a migraine, relax Robs," he huffs as she levels him with a disbelieving stare.

"I just," Steve chews his lip for a moment as he drops his gaze to the floor. Robin steps closer, tilting her head to the side as he struggles to find the words.

"I love that you came with me, that we get to be here, but," Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It's longer than it had been two years ago, the gold and copper from his time in the warm summer sun slowly fading back to brown.

"Eddie always talked about leaving Hawkins someday, and I always thought it would be with me".

"This was our plan," he says softly, lifting his eyes to meet Robin's own, her brows pinched in a small frown.

"And I managed to screw that up like everything else," he trails off softly.

***

"I just don't understand why you have to go to this thing, you aren't even interested in his stupid job?" Eddie growls as he tosses the pencil up at his bedroom ceiling, it stays for just a moment before falling back into his waiting hands. Pock marks litter the tile from previous throws and Steve is sure Wayne's told him to knock it off more times than he can count.

"It's complicated," Steve says lowly, he pictures his dad's thunderous face, the same square jaw and straight nose that Steve has, they could be identical but for their ages and the cold grey eyes his father has.

Steve took after his mother in that area, inheriting her large hazel eyes and long lashes.

"No it's not," Eddie says stubbornly, he throws the pencil with more force this time and it hangs in the ceiling between them, "you could tell him to stuff his job up his ass".

"Eddie--"

"No, no, you know we had a show tonight, and you're choosing to go to your dad's fundraiser instead?"

Steve sighs and bites the inside of his cheek, tamping down the urge to argue with his boyfriend.

But, they've never really had this talk before, Steve's never told anyone about his father and his homelife.

Right now he wishes he had.

"It's not like I have much of a choice," he huffs as Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs, "and not all of us have someone like Wayne to encourage us to do whatever we want".

"That's such bullshit and you know it," Eddie hisses ignoring the slight flinch from Steve, "you always do this".

What?

"You never want to come to our shows, you never want to sit in on Hellfire--"

"That's not true," Steve growls, crossing his arms over his stomach, he hunches in on himself slightly but Eddie shakes his head.

"Yes it is! When was the last time you came to a show?"

Steve wracks his brain, trying to remember the name of the bar they had played at, it wasn’t the Hideaway, it had been a bit of a drive to get there. It was a dive bar that had sounded like it was straight out of Robin Hood, The Red Lion?

"See!" Eddie takes his silence as victory and throws his hands up in the air, "what did I tell you?"

"Jesus, it was a bar show just like all of them Eddie, it's not like you guys were playing on MTV or something," Steve snaps, the last threads of his patience wearing thinner and thinner.

"Oh fuck off, MTV is part of the problem, do you not listen when I talk?"

"I always listen to you!" Steve cries out, his voice climbs in volume and his hands shake as adrenaline spikes, "sometimes you just talk and talk and talk and you say nothing important but I always listen to you!"

"Woooow, fuck you," Eddie scoffs as he turns on his heel and opens his bedroom door, Steve follows him, fuming but wary.

"Since everything I say is bullshit, apparently, and you don't want to come to our shows or spend time with me then maybe you should just go!"

Steve halts in his tracks.

Eddie stands by the open front door to the trailer, his cheeks are red and his mouth is a flat line carved in the middle of his face.

Steve feels his heart rate tick up as he stands there frozen.

They've had disagreements before, small petty arguments but this feels big. Much bigger than any fight they've ever had.

"Eddie-"

"Nope, unless you tell me you're coming tonight, we're done".

Oh.

And just like that, it hurts just as much as when Nancy had told him she didn't love him the previous year. It's too much, he needs to leave.

"Yeah, you know what Eddie, I don't need this," Steve says so softly that Eddie leans forward to hear before reeling back as though struck, "I don't," he shakes his head and walks past Eddle towards the open door.

Eddie's hands twitch as though he wants to reach out to Steve, to pull him back into the trailer, but they remain at his sides.

"You're right," Eddie yells after him as Steve walks down the gravel drive to his car, "you don't need us, we don't need you, go crawling back to daddy just like always".

Steve stops walking and looks back at Eddie. The metal-head's wide brown eyes are shiny with angry tears.

Steve feels his own angry tears pooling along his lash line.

He gets in the car and drives away, ignoring the tightness in his chest as he heads home.

***

"Okay, first of all," Robin says sharply as she drops the box at their feet and pokes him in the chest with a rigid pointer finger, "you're damn right you're happy I came with you, I am a catch!"

Steve rolls his eyes as Robin clears her throat imperiously until he raises his hands in surrender.

"Second, he found out about your dads shit, saw you beaten to hell and back, and didn't even want to have a conversation? Fuck that noise".

"Birdy, you weren't there, and you don't even know Eddie--"

"I know you though," she continues, staring him down, "and I know if the roles were reversed, you would have at least heard him out".

Steve holds back a wince, attempting to keep his expression as neutral as possible. He knows she isn’t right, he knows he made a mistake that night walking away, they should have talked, they should have had it out.

Steve should have told Eddie the truth.

Then again, Eddie dropped him like it was nothing so maybe he was better off in the long run.

Strangely enough this thought doesn’t make him feel better.

"Robin," Steve sighs wearily, crossing to the wall of the living room before leaning his back against it to slide down to the floor.

"Tell me I'm wrong," she says softly, walking towards his spot on the floor, she settles beside him and nudges his shoulder with her own.

"Tell me I'm wrong and I'll drop it," she says again, firmly this time.

Steve breathes out a sigh and brings his knees to his chest, looking towards the window.

The view isn't much, just the street and other buildings, but the Chicago skyline seems to stretch for miles ahead of them.

"You’re not wrong," he says eventually, ignoring the crow of triumph Robin makes, "but you're not right either".

She scoffs and leans her head against his shoulder, the soft waves of her hair tickle the skin on his bare arm but the weight and warmth of her is comforting.

"Besides, it was years ago," Steve mutters, "I'm sure he's forgotten all about me by now".

tagging: @strangersteddierthings @flowercrowngods @steddierthings @steddie-there @henderdads and anyone else that would like to participate! (Please tag me with your wonderful creations! Also I apologize if you've already been tagged - feel free to ignore this!)

#steddie #wip wednesday #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #afewproblems writes #steddie breakup #steddie slowburn makeup #lets go get these boys back together people #I can't not write platonic stobin now #how can I write steve without his robin #thats right I cant

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columboscreens · 1 year

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i was asked recently about my top three and top ten columbo murderers who i think most deserved their fate. after wrangling with the tumblr post editor undoing my text changes and fucking up my photo placement, i finally finished the post. everything looked good in the drafts, in the queue, and in the blog preview.

then for some ungodly reason tumblr published the rough draft version of the post i'd written weeks ago anyway. i got so frustrated i yelled expletives and nuked it. so i'm starting anew. without further ado,

here are the top ten piece of shit columbo murderers who absolutely deserved it:

justin rowe & cooper redman, columbo goes to college: truly, i hate these two scum-sucking motherfuckers the most. they're brats, yes, but look at the absolute dogshit stakes at hand. all the other murderers in this show are killing for true love, power, multimillion dollar fortunes, careers of great prestige--usually for that upon which they've staked their entire lives. these two tar pits blow their professor's brains out because they Got Bad Grades, which was their fault to begin with! they bully columbo mercilessly. i can't even look at them without wanting to throttle them

dr. barry mayfield, a stitch in crime: though his reasoning for murder starts out with at least some comprehensible amount of dignity, he quickly devolves into one of the most evil murderers of the series, not only by trying to off his research lead, but for causing so much collateral damage. he kills his nurse for knowing too much, sure, but killing her poor vietnam vet ex who's trying to shake his perc addiction while working at the petting zoo is…almost comically evil. it's no wonder columbo gets visibly fed up with his shit.

commissioner mark halperin, a friend in deed: god this guy is such a huge piece of shit. he's a spectacularly corrupt cop, covering for his friend's manslaughter and then using it as an excuse to drown his own wife for her money--to make it worse, his wife is somehow an absolute sweetheart angel darling who spends all her time working with underpriviliged children and people of color. then he's dumb enough to let columbo, the star detective with a 200% solve rate, work on the case, while also openly disparaging and discouraging him. utterly contemptible.

nelson hayward, candidate for crime: in typical politician style, so plastic and two-faced that he's not even a real human being. cheats on his adorable wife with a 20-year-old floozy and then gets mad at his clearly fantastic campaign advisor for wanting him to get a grip and fix his fucking marriage. then he shoots him about it. then he tries to make everyone think he's in danger--and he's such a rutting, lying pig that his own wife clearly believes columbo more than she believes him.

sean brantley, columbo cries wolf: i'm not sure if there exists a more smug columbo villain than sean brantley. uniquely repugnant in that he uses and abuses columbo to generate a media frenzy, then mocks and embarrasses him on international television. uniquely moronic in that when he actually DOES do a murder he hides his partner's body in…his own wall? with her smart watch still attached to her wrist. actual dirt man

dale kingston, suitable for framing: total piece of shit who always thinks he's the cleverest person in the room. says the absolute dumbest shit about art all the time; as in, literally everything that comes out of his mouth makes you want to curbstomp him. the girl who loves him gets kind of scared about being an accessory to murder, so instead of being reassuring in any capacity, he brains her with a big rock. this man deserved impalement

paul galesko, negative reaction: starts off the episode SO sympathetic when we see how bitchy and abusive his wife is, then immediately vanquishes all sympathy by being the most annoying, insufferable fuckhead at all times. fucked around with yet another 20-year-old floozy, killed an ex-con who was trying to rebuild his life, and planned everything poorly. is terribly mean to columbo…

milo janus, exercise in fatality: a complete fucking slimeball with vanishingly few redeeming qualities. kills a guy with his bare hands for even suggesting cooked books and then taunts his estranged widow about it by...asking her to fuck? (in all fairness--he has to maintain Quality. when he grows? you grow). it's no wonder that columbo loses his shit and yells at him

emmett clayton, the most dangerous match: seldom talked about in these conversations but he is so smug and killed one of the least deserving columbo victims because…he's a massive fucking coward who is incapable of losing. pathetic! get over yourself! plus this guy was like Ooo i am so Extremeley Jeanius but when columbo diverted his attention for like five seconds he lost to a fucking fool's mate. literally the quickest way you can lose a game of chess. real bobby fischer swag you big goofy ass bitch. grow up moron

harold van wick, playback: just the most abrasive fucking asshole the entire episode. insufferable proto-tech bro who is mean to beautiful radiant sweetheart gena rowlands and not even in the smug columbo murderer way, just an old school ableist/misogynist who openly says shit like why should i allow my dumb disabled wife to Make Decisions. doesn't even pretend to be nice to columbo at any point and not in the charming robert culp way. loathsome garbage heap of a man.

honorable mentchies go to jack cassidy nazi magician, evil french chef, pedophile johnny cash, weird italian polycule artist, and both william shatners. fuck you

#this one took me a while both because i had to think about it and also because tumblr blows #columbo #ask #text #longpost #probably shouldve oriented this 10 - 1 vs 1 - 10 but im so done looking at this post i don't care

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dweetwise · 7 months

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[Riconti] The Long Con (part 2/6)

Bitchy Felix my beloved. Rated T | 2k words | ao3 link [previous] [next]

"Oh, really?" Ace said, feigning interest. "An architect? That has to be a really demanding profession."

The man next to him cleared his throat. "Not really."

Ace forced a smile and silently cursed his luck. He'd been trying to break through this guy's facade for nearly half an hour without much progress.

"He's lying!" the woman opposite the table from Ace exclaimed loudly. "Two weeks ago, we stayed at the office for 36 hours straight to finish a project!"

"Wow." Ace whistled lowly. "Now that's what I call dedication. You had to be dead on your feet after, huh?"

A minute shrug from Mr. Antisocial. "A little."

"You drank a quadruple espresso. Black," the woman continued, then turned to Ace. "I thought he was going to give himself a heart attack—I kept screaming 'Don't you dare die before you finish that render!'"

Ace laughed good-naturedly. "Hey, have to keep your priorities straight. And for what it's worth, I'm very happy neither of you succumbed to a caffeine-related early grave."

That got a small twitch of the man's mouth. "I think Americans and the sugary milkshakes you call coffee are more at risk for that."

"Well, excuse us for not wanting to drink bean water au natural," Ace teased.

The joke only earned him another bored glance. Ace took a big gulp of his beer to fill the awkward silence.

This really wasn't going according to plan.

When Ace first walked into the beer tent that Meg had pointed him to, he'd been briefly overwhelmed by the sheer size of the space. The tent looked even bigger than it had from the outside, full of tables and benches and a bar that ran almost the entire length of the room. A good portion of the tables were already occupied and wait staff scurried about in traditional outfits, carrying huge glasses of beer to their eager customers.

Ace had made his way to the bar and ordered the first beer on the menu. The bartender—dressed in suspenders and lederhosen and one of the ugliest pairs of socks Ace had ever seen—filled his glass from a wooden barrel, and Ace had to admire the vendors’ dedication to preserving the old-timey atmosphere.

Unfortunately, tradition also seemed to dictate that the default serving size was one whole liter of beer.

Ace had struggled to even carry his damn beer without sloshing it all over his favorite shirt. In the end, he only made it to a currently closed section of the bar, but it was a good vantage point to take in the sea of people.

While observing the chatter, the unholy amounts of beer being consumed, and the most leather pants Ace had seen since the eighties, he'd spotted a small group sitting at a corner table not far away. Or more specifically, his eye had been drawn to a woman dressed in a seemingly unassuming white t-shirt and a simple silver necklace, gesturing animatedly with her purse as she talked to her friends.

But the shirt looked like an expensive material, the sunglasses pushed up into her hair were from a designer Ace recognized, and the necklace he remembered seeing in a pawn shop—selling for over a grand. The woman's entire outfit radiated the sort of casual luxury that most people wouldn't even notice.

Fortunately, Ace had spent the last thirty years practicing how to do just that. And with the majority of festival-goers sporting identical-looking traditional Bavarian garb that was impossible to appraise, the woman was by far the safest bet when it came to schmoozing up to a wealthy target.

Ace sipped on his beer and kept watching the group out of the corner of his eye. It was only three people—the woman and two men—and Ace waited to see if others would be joining them from the bar or returning from a bathroom break. Larger groups were usually harder to squeeze into and if another woman joined the trio, they were obviously two couples enjoying the festival together who would not be happy about Ace fifth-wheeling.

But after ten minutes and no sign of potentially missing friends or the group even glancing around for anyone, Ace felt confident enough to proceed with his plan. He gave himself a cursory once-over to check for beer stains on his clothes before making a small detour back to the bar, just on the odd chance that he was being watched. He pretended to study the food menu before looking around the tent like a dumb little tourist—which wasn’t entirely an act—and then made a show of noticing the group for the first time and strolling up to their table.

After that, it was the familiar spiel of, "Excuse me, is this seat taken?", followed by a sheepish smile as they turned to look at him, and then, "This is actually my first Oktoberfest and I'm a little lost."

The woman had immediately offered an excited, "No, no, sit down!", the man next to her had smiled and nodded, and Ace turned to the final member of the group who he'd only seen the back of so far—

And proceeded to nearly choke on his spit because holy shit, was that guy a model or something?

One of the most handsome men Ace had ever met frowned at him, his brows drawn together as his icy blue eyes studied Ace. His blond hair was impeccably styled with not a strand out of place and his checkered dress shirt and navy blue waistcoat hugged his broad torso perfectly. Like almost everyone else, he was also wearing lederhosen, though these were of the more form-fitting variety and Ace sorely regretted not ogling his backside while he'd been watching their table earlier.

Ace managed a friendly smile, to which the man just turned back to the table and shrugged unenthusiastically. The message was clear: Ace could stay, but he wasn't happy about it.

Not bothered by the reaction, Ace took his seat and the woman immediately started introducing them all in heavily accented English. Her name was Lauren, the man beside her was Daniel, her husband, and the hottie with a bad attitude was Felix, her business partner slash best friend.

And, really, Ace's original plan had been to simply befriend Lauren—at least as soon as she said "husband" and Ace realized that flirting would probably not go over well. Still, Lauren was sociable, already tipsy, and seemed to like Ace from the get go; it would probably only be a matter of time before she asked her charming new friend to watch her purse while the rest of them got more drinks or something.

But then Ace rolled up his sleeve and reached over the table to shake Lauren's hand, and Felix's gaze immediately snapped to Ace's exposed forearm before roving over his entire body.

Ace's skin felt hot from the obvious once-over and he almost stuttered on his own name as he greeted both Lauren and her husband. When he went to shake Felix's hand, Felix's large palm was a little sweaty and he couldn't quite meet Ace's eye anymore.

And sure, Lauren would have made an easy target. But Felix?

Well, flirting was definitely back on the menu when it came to Felix.

…Or that's what Ace initially thought, but after countless attempts at conversation that Felix shut down immediately, he was starting to doubt his intuition.

Maybe Felix hadn't been checking him out. Maybe he just hated arm hair with a passion, or felt extreme second-hand embarrassment from Ace's shirt choice?

Ace forced down some more of his beer and desperately grasped for another conversation starter. He glanced around the tent and spotted a few rays of sunlight shining in through a transparent panel on the ceiling—surely, small talk about the weather was at least a safe topic?

"Really nice weather for a festival," Ace said.

"I like rain," Felix said, because of course he did.

Ace would have probably excused himself at that very moment. But Felix started unbuttoning his cufflinks—the tent was getting a little warm from the sun—and Ace happened to catch a glimpse of his watch in the process.

Mechanical. Swiss made. Possibly platinum?

Oh, and probably worth at least thirty grand.

Realization slowly dawned on Ace: Felix was likely the wealthiest person in the entire room. Hell, maybe even the entire festival.

Ace straightened his back and put on his most charming grin. The pot had just been sweetened a whole lot, and Ace wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

He'd crack this man's code somehow.

═════════════ ♤ ═════════════

"—And Melbourne was really nice as well," Ace said. "Have any of you been to Australia?"

"Not yet," Lauren said.

"Once, but that was over twenty years ago," Daniel said. "I don't remember much."

Ace nodded, then smoothly leaned closer to Felix. "What about you, blondie? Any exciting travel—"

"What are you doing, dad?" a very familiar and thoroughly exasperated voice butted in.

"Meg!" Ace exclaimed, quickly putting distance between himself and Felix.

He turned to face Meg, who was standing behind him with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. At least she'd had the decency to pretend they were related instead of addressing him as "Hey, asshole" like she did most times.

"I was just getting to know some of the locals," Ace said. "Did you want to join us? I mean, if that's okay…?" He glanced at Lauren in question.

Lauren was already nodding enthusiastically, but Meg immediately shot the suggestion down.

"No," Meg said pointedly. "I just wanted to talk to you. Alone."

Ace smiled at the table. "Be right back."

═════════════ ♤ ═════════════

"What the hell are you doing!?" Meg hissed once they were out of earshot.

Ace shrugged. "Getting into the festival spirit?"

"If by 'festival spirit' you mean Blondie McSnob's pants!" Meg accused. "Just nick his wallet and dip!"

"I'm playing the long con," Ace said. "He's loaded, and he likes me."

Well. Sort of. Maybe.

Meg crossed her arms again and glared. "I remember what happened last time you said that."

Ace winced. "Last time" referred to almost a year ago, when he'd seduced a target and then ended up running through the fancy garden of her estate in the middle of the night, clad in only his underwear while her husband chased him with a shotgun.

That night Meg had been the angriest Ace had ever seen her, patching up his wound from where a bullet had grazed him while screaming in his ear about, "You knew she was a mob wife and you still fucked her! You could have died, you fucking useless piece of shit!"

Ace knew it meant, "I was so scared, please don't ever do that again."

"It's not like that," Ace insisted. "He's harmless."

Meg scoffed.

"Come on, look at the guy," Ace said. "He can barely put a sentence together and he's an architect. The most dangerous thing he's done is probably yachting without a life jacket."

Meg snorted and discreetly looked back to the table. "He does kinda seem like a nerd."

"A rich nerd," Ace stressed.

"Ugh, fine," Meg groaned. "As long as you remember rule number one."

Ah, throwing Ace's own teachings back in his face: one of Meg's favorite pastimes. Rule number one, of course, being, "Never get attached to your target."

"I know what I'm doing," Ace said, then smirked. "You'd better get to work if you still plan on winning our bet, dear 'daughter'."

Meg responded with the middle finger, and then she seamlessly slipped back into the crowd.

Ace sighed and absent-mindedly fiddled with the rabbit’s foot hanging from his belt: one of the knick-knacks he’d attached to it in what the internet told him was an old Oktoberfest tradition. Hopefully one of the lucky charms would work, because god knows Ace could really use some good fortune right now.

Forcing a smile onto his face, Ace ventured back to the table.

#riconti #dbd fanfic #ace visconti #felix richter #dbd #dweetwrites #dead by daylight

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bonesandthebees · 4 months

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Finally free from exams! My last one was English, so it wasn’t too bad (can’t say the same for the other poor people in my class who were actually crying, but I mean they’ve been cheating off me all semester so what do you expect)

But anyways I got to go home and watch the new Percy Jackson show!! I briefly remember reading it as a kid, but I read so much back then I hardly remember it 😅

Have you seen it? Any thoughts?

-🌻

ngl sunflower that made me laugh while I have no moral qualms with cheating it's only if you do it in a way where you're not stealing someone else's work without their consent. if they were cheating off you all semester and now they've failed... ruh roh

I also barely remember reading the books as a kid. I read them when I was... 11? 12? something like that so that was over ten years ago for me. I haven't read them since so I barely remember them. but yes I have seen the show!! I watched the first two episodes tonight and I LOVED them so much

I'll put my thoughts under the cut for spoilers

I LOVE THE KIDS SO MUCH AAAAA I especially love how much focus is given to Percy and Sally's relationship. She's such a great mom and Percy loves her so so much. He's Sally Jackson's son!! I just really loved how much effort they put into showing just how close the two of them are and how Percy doesn't give a shit about his 'real dad' he just cares about his mom and making sure she's okay. This boy is already going "fuck the gods" like they nailed his character so well from what I remember

speaking of characters, Annabeth my GIRL. Although we've only seen a bit of Annabeth in ep 2, I adore how Leah is playing her. I've seen posts saying she really feels like a centuries old soul inside a 12 year old girls body and that's exactly the vibe. You can tell she's constantly weighing the pros and cons of what to say and why, and with every look you can tell she's calculating something. But she's also so fucking weird at the same time and I adore her for it. Girl literally just stalked Percy and straight up admitted to it, and then she used him as bait for capture the flag before pushing him into the water with zero explanation. Percy has had, like, 3 conversations with her so far. I love it.

I also really loved the humor. the one-liners were great but not excessive. the show hit a really nice balance of being funny, but not trying to get a laugh out of you every few minutes.

other things I love: Grover, he's doing great and also shouting "I'm 24!" in the car when they're being chased by the literal minotaur just about killed me. Similar to Annabeth, you can tell he's got a lot more wisdom and years in him than what you would think just by looking at him. Percy, meanwhile, has no wisdom and I also adore him for it.

I'm really enjoying it so far overall and I'm super excited to see the next episodes when they get released

#ask #sunflower anon #pjo #pjotv

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forrestfanfics · 1 year

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So This is Love || Age of Ultron 1: “Prematurely Powerless”

“So This is Love” Masterlist

Important Notes || Next Chapter

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Most of Stark Industries' employees would take one look at me and think I was living the best life.

Having Tony Stark as a dad, residing at the top of Avengers Tower, living in the lap of luxury, and having a guaranteed plan to graduate College by the age of seventeen…

But none of them knew that the one main con of having all that is the dread that engulfed me whenever the Avengers were out on a mission.

There was only one thing worse than having to sit patiently while the Avengers were out risking their lives for our safety.

That was knowing my father was out there with them.

What's even worse was the anxiety I felt every time he said goodbye, hugging me like it would be the last time he ever did. It triggered the dread I felt of not knowing whether he was coming home to me.

It started when I was ten, sitting through my dad's disappearance before he returned with a battery for a heart with the excuse of being half robot sent me spiralling.

And after what happened three years ago with Loki, things have only got more dangerous for the team. Meaning that I've grown more protective of my father.

So when he told me they'd be looking for the location of Loki's old staff, I didn't hesitate to grab hold of his legs and cling to him until he agreed to stay behind and let the rest of the team raid the Hydra base to get themselves killed… Presumably.

But it was to no avail, as he easily dragged his foot along the helipad, shaking me off with a single thrust of his foot into the air each time.

This led me to where I was, pacing around the tower for hours, pulling on the roots of my hair and cursing at my inability to help.

Being literally powerless was the most inconvenient thing about being Iron Man's kid.

I couldn't wait any longer. How long had it been?

Did they say they'd be back soon?

What did they mean by soon?

A few hours?

The next day?

A month?

It was too much…

Luckily, before I could scratch the skin off my scalp, the sound of Jarvis' voice echoed from my computer to my earpiece.

"Miss Stark, they're landing soon."

"How soon?" I asked, not realising the obvious panic in my voice.

"Circling the tower as we speak."

I was out of that room without a second thought.

My bare feet leapt across the floors, hastily rushing through various hallways and staircases.

Greetings from the agents flew over my head as I focused on the open entryway ahead of me.

I could feel my heartbeat pick up just as the Quinjet hovered down on the landing. The tip of its wings curled in on itself as the wheels made contact with the helipad.

"Whoa there!" An arm flew out before me. My feet stopped abruptly, and I stumbled into the outstretched arm of Maria Hill. "Relax, Y/N."

I couldn't.

I watched as the ship's door opened so agonizingly slowly.

I was silently praying that he would step off the ship in one uninjured piece.

And when people rushed to the ship and pulled out Barton on a stretcher, my heart dropped.

I looked up at Maria, who gave me a reassuring smile. "I'm sure it's not who you think it is."

What was that supposed to mean?

She pursed her lips at the sight of my frantic face, sighing before lowering her arm.

I dashed away the moment she did. My eyes eagerly scanned the heads that popped out of the ship, searching like a hawk hunting its prey.

An erratic-looking Hawk with wide, constricted eyes and a severe lack of footwear.

Maria had already caught up, putting a hand on my back and leading me into the ship. A small smile had been sent my way from the passing God of Thunder.

A part of me was excited as I had never been allowed inside before.

But another part of me was afraid I'd get in trouble because I had never been allowed inside before.

But all worry was thrown out the window when the familiar fluff of brown hair peeked out from above the captain's chair.

"Dad!" I smiled so wide I could feel the sting in my cheeks. Maria patted me on the back, giving me the go, and I ran over to him.

The chair spun around, and my father had his arms open wide, catching me as I fell into his embrace.

My arms wrapped around his shoulders as he did around my back.

Just like that, I was at ease. Happy that he was alive and okay.

"Hey, Neoma. What did I tell ya?" He chuckled, using the nickname he gave me when I was a kid.

"You came back," I spoke quietly, savouring the embrace.

I felt his hand move up to my head, running it through the strands of my hair soothingly. "I always do, sweetheart. Like I'd leave the company in the hands of my fifteen-year-old daughter," he teased.

"I think I could do a better job running this place." The words rolled off my tongue smugly as I pulled away to cross my arms over my chest freely.

He tsk'd at me. "I'll remember that when I'm handing Stark Industries over to Pepper."

I tsk'd at him.

From across the ship, Maria cleared her throat. "Lab's all set up, boss."

"Oh actually, he's the boss," my father pointed a finger at Steve who peeked over his shoulder, crouched by some equipment. "I just pay for everything and design everything and make everyone look cooler." He grunted, getting up from his seat.

"Right…" I rolled my eyes and spun on my heels to leave. "I'll be in my room now that I know you're okay- oof!" I gasped when my body was crushed against my father's torso, face first with his arm.

Steve ignored the witticism and pushed himself up off the ground. "What's the word on Strucker?"

"NATO's got him," answered Maria.

"The two enhanced?" Asked Steve.

"Wanda and Pietro Maximoff. Twins," Maria showed him via the tablet in her hands.

I huffed against the rough material of my father's maroon shirt, hitting the sides of my fist against his back as I struggled to breathe.

He only held me tighter. "Hey- hey! Come on. What? Just cuz you know I'm safe, you can go scurrying of? I missed my daughter too, y'know?"

I tried to speak-… Curse at him. Although, all that came out was a collection of incoherent sounds and grunts.

He pushed me off of him, giving me enough space to gasp for air. His hands were still planted on my shoulders. "I beg your pardon?"

"Said I couldn't breathe," I scrunched my nose at him.

"That was way more than 'I couldn't breathe.'" He scoffed before letting me go with a pat on my head. "Stay right here, won't ya?"

He turned away only when I gave a firm nod. He went to fiddle with a bunch of the jet's instruments while I plopped into the captain's chair, watching Maria and Steve exit the craft.

"How's school?" My father suddenly asked, not taking his eyes off the panel for a second.

"Really?" I grumbled, sinking into the uncomfortably hard seat.

"I want to make sure my daughter is as smart as I am if I want her graduating from University at the age of seventeen," he shrugged.

"It's a bit too late for that, pops. I'm already fifteen and still in my supposed senior year of high school," I chuckled. "And I meant 'really' as in like... I'm being homeschooled by a sentient woman who can't teach me Calc for shit," I shrugged.

"Don't swear… And you know risky it is to send you to a normal school," He finally finished whatever he was fiddling with and motioned for me to follow him out.

I hopped out of the chair and tailed behind as we stepped off the ship. "And who's fault is that, Mr. I am Iron Man," I mocked, speaking his name in a low dopey voice accompanied by jazz hands and an eye roll.

"I never sent you to school before that." My feet stopped in their tracks as my dad did the same, turning around to look at me.

"Though, now you've got me thinking that I should've. I can't hand Stark Industries over to someone who doesn't even know what the word 'Sentient' means," he booped my nose with the tip of his index finger before spinning back around and trudging on.

The annoyance had been wiped from my face when my brain processed what he had just told me. "Wait... It doesn't mean extremely old?" I called out.

He simply waved the back of his hand at me. "That's 'Ancient' you're looking for, Nugget!"

I pressed a hand against my forehead and let out a cry. "And to think, that the fate of the world would eventually fall into my hands…"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #mcu #marvel reader insert #marvel #peter parker x stark!daughter #slowburn #sheltered reader

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tobias-hankel · 2 years

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Fic Rec Friday! 🎉

These are some of my fic recs from April 30th, 2022 to May 6th, 2022!

🖤 Past Is Prologue by @gaelic-symphony - WIP, Alex Blake/Erin Strauss, Lovers to enemies to lovers, Workplace Relationship, Office Romance, Angst, Smut, Betrayal, wlw relationship, Grief/Mourning, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Biphobia, Exes, Lesbian Alex Blake, Bisexual Spencer Reid, Lesbian Emily Prentiss, she's only there at the end though, Strauss and Rossi are not an item in this fic, Blake-centric

Ten years ago, Alex Blake’s career was torpedoed by someone she thought she could trust. Since then, she’s kept her nose to the grindstone, slowly climbing her way up through the ranks of the FBI. Now, she’s made it all the way to the elite Behavioral Analysis Unit, but her past will still come back to haunt her in more ways than she can ever anticipate.

❤️ The Silence Drowns by @masterwords- WIP, Aaron Hotchner/Derek Morgan, Stabbing, Gunshot, Established Relationship, Hospital, Graphic Description, Serious Injuries, Major Character Injury, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Protective Derek Morgan (Criminal Minds), Worried Derek Morgan, Attempted Sexual Assault, Gun Violence, Stalking, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Tricksters, Serial Killers, ICU

Morgan interrupts Foyet in Hotch's apartment. Bad times are ahead.

🖤 Out by @justiceforralvez - 2.7k, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s08e12 Zugzwang, Spencer & Maeve friendship, Implied/Referenced Abuse, not really, Feelings, How Do I Tag, Not Beta Read

It's no surprise to anyone that Hotch is stronger than Spencer. Whilst this fact usually makes him feel safe, protected in the strong arms of the other, there is a moment when he only feels weak.

❤️ Owl Night by @empress-of-yaoi - .4k, Jason Gideon & David Rossi, Domaystic 2022, Friendship, Fluff, Soothing Forest, Jason Gideon/David Rossi if you squint enough, Prompt: First Night

When Rossi has trouble sleeping, he calls his best friend to help him calm down.

Tags and smut/18+ recs below cut. Click this link to send a fic rec or to be added to Fic Rec Friday Taglist.

🖤 Hook, Line, Sinker (High on Misery) by @artdecodyke - WIP, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Everyone Has Issues, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drama, so much drama, Post-Episode: s02e15 Revelations (Criminal Minds), Rehabilitation, Road Trips, forced road trips as rehab, Dubious everything, Sex Addiction, Gay Sex, Lesbian Sex, you might call this out of character, but they're addicted to drugs so

The FBI has turned a blind eye to the BAU and their misadventures ever since Reid was kidnapped. With no oversight, every member has slipped into their own ways of handling the job. Until there's one case too many and they can't hide it anymore. Needing to get the mess of a team home, Strauss comes up with the perfect plan: put them all on a bus home so they can arrive at Quantico detoxed and ready again. It goes about as well as you think it would.

❤️ It Never Stopped Being True by @wherethewordsare - WIP, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous Smut, more smut to come, Multiple chapters, Friends With Benefits, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Frottage, almost desk sex, guilty Hotch, Possessive Behavior, but Reid is very much into it, Oral Sex, Oral Fixation, Barebacking, bratty spencer reid, honestly, bratty aaron hotchner too, they're both absolute shits in this, mutual pining even tho they're literally fucking, this got absolutely filthy

There were certain things that Hotch had told himself he was allowed. And the one thing, regardless of what happened that he told himself he couldn’t have was Reid.

🖤 Daughter by @sirmatthew1972 - .9k, Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid, 18+, mpreg, omega Spencer, alpha Aaron, past pregnant!Spencer, alpha/beta/omega universe, nesting, scenting, knotting mentioned, male lactation implied, fluff, cuteness overload (ao3 link)

In which omega Spencer embraces parenthood in the shape of his so precious firstborn pup as he feeds her.

Taglist: @ssa-sarahsunshine, @justiceforralvez, @brillianthijinx, @wherethewordsare, @lizzielovegood-blog, @merpancake, @sparklinspence, @spencersfunkysocks, @spencer-reids-adventures @castielryan

#Maze's Fic Rec Friday #fic rec #fic rec friday #criminal minds #criminal minds fic rec #hotchreid #Alex Blake/Erin Strauss #hotchgan #Jason Gideon & David Rossi #a lot of these ended up hotchreid this time #ship tags for the fics #Criminal Minds Fanfiction

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queen-savilene · 2 years

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Good fiction is just the truth being coy. At least, that's what everyone says. Everyone who reads, that is. The others probably don't read much and they certainly don't write. But there's where we run into a problem:

When all you want is to write what amounts to a philosophical or political parable. Fiction, but discussing modern politics.

A book that's been written every year, basically. Always changing as the hot topics of the day change and as writing conventions change. But at the end of the day, it's still just a book, and if you did a great job writing it then it shouldn't read as much more than an entertaining work of fiction even if your big bad everyone hates took their ideology and actions straight out of history class, a lá Nero or some such.

People miss the point. At least, that second group does, and when 55% of my own mayonnaise-kin of the feminine persuasion decide to vote for someone who masturbates to the idea of being the kind of "strong man" our grandparents stormed Normandy to fight. So, the point is getting lost somewhere in the sauce, or just not read at all.

It feels paralyzing. An entire generation is feeling crippled, right now. How do we even care about our passions when the world is on fire? Roads literally melting in Australia. The rise of fascism. Looming war, both civil and abroad.

But no, just write about some fantasy King who grooms his daughter, hurls insults at statesmen of both his own country and his allies & enemies, and relies on his advisors who are nothing more than sleazy con-men who can't actually lead the would-be king or the country.

I suppose it would make for an entertaining story, but it's one I've lived, and one I've read, and one I've watched. I don't want to write about it. Maybe five, ten years ago before things got so heated. But now we the frog have been boiled, and instead of writing about places other than the boiling pot, maybe let's write about the pot itself so we can think, yea?

It's telling that this personal, non-fiction writing is the most I've done in at least a month. It comes easier. I'm not being coy. I'm not writing some coded message about how the world is ending before our eyes and, while to say that no one is doing anything would be factually wrong, not enough people have emerged from their apathy like a butterfly from the chrysalis.

Maybe talking about the truth, clearly and without obfuscation, is what we need now. Sure, it isn't "entertaining" to talk about these issues. But as a Zillenial, slipped in between the bottom end of the Millenials and top end of the Zoomers like some deliciously Sapphic sandwich, it isn't particularly entertaining to consume the ten thousandth thing written by a panicked writer trying to clue us window kickers in on the dirty little secrets of the world, like that it isn't all kittens and indictments out here.

I've been reading a lot, or at least more than I used to. Currently I am reading Parable Of The Talents, the exceptionally well written sequel to Parable Of The Sower. They're bleak books written in the 90s, part of an unfinished trilogy but work as standalone. I love them.

I also hate them. They're depressing. They are only set in the 2020s and beyond, a look at a collapsing America 3 decades down the line after the author, Octavia Butler, witnessed Reagan's politics start to destroy this country. Now we can trace back the ills contaminating us and find them rooted in Making America Great Again, as Reagan wanted, as Trump wanted.

At one point in Talents, the narrator/pov character talks about how people are turning a blind eye to illegal Christian re-education camps because the camps are collecting vagrants (we aren't told why they're poor and homeless, but it is almost certainly not their own moral failings). These legal land owners are afraid. Not of the vagrants that might steal what little food the landowners have, just so that the vagrant doesn't need to starve. No, the land owners are afraid because the vagrants are a reminder of what the land owner could become.

Talents is that vagrant. Books like Talents are that vagrant. The one I'm afraid of, because they remind me that there's currently a SCOTUS discussing ripping rights away. Making my very existence as a lesbian transwoman, or a transbian as some might call me, illegal. I didn't choose this. Why would I? I may be murdered for the way I was born, why would I choose this depressing existence?

So yea. It can be hard to write when it feels pointless. When any warning would go unheeded, or arrive too late, or just not involve the level of Direct Action we need to survive the looming American Troubles. Because if we avoid that civil war then we're probably not for the miracle-case solution of "Okay let's stop oppressing minorities, give people food, homes, and health care, and stop destroying the planet." Call me a cynic, but if they were going to just stop all that they would have. And asking nicely just tells them we can still be ignored.

I don't want to be ignored, I don't want to waste my time. I don't want reminders of how little we are doing, and I don't want to feel like my "contribution" to mending this fucked up world is the same half-measures that lead us here. We're in a radical new Era, and we need radical new ideas such as actually talking about shit for once.

#Opinion #Thoughts #Feelings #political #politics #writing #fiction #fictional #dystopian #activism #activist #on writing #amwriting

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otptings · 3 years

Text

Double Sided

→Idol; Hendery

→Genre; Possesive Smut

→Word Count; 3.1k+

→Warnings; degradation, thigh riding, possessive, corruption kink, jealous Hendery, dacryphilia, slight dumbification, overstimulation, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving) , daddy (not so much as a kink), calls you his doll, degradation, somnophilia, auditory exhibitionism, breeding kink,

→Synopsis; Who would've known that Hendery would've had such a different personality than the sweet, goofy man that you met a year ago?

→A/n ~ Hope you enjoy this, I had actually cycled through multiple idols from nct and svt before finally setting on my favorite crackhead, Hendrarrrry. If you liked my one shot please like, reblog, or donate to my Ko-Fi. Feedback is wanted, and requests are open for any idol from enhypen, nct, and svt.

Hendery leaned in close to your ear, lips brushing over it as he spoke.

"Such a good girl for me.” A whimper left your mouth, your skin feeling like it was on fire where his hands gripped your waist.

Hendery was full of surprises. Seemingly so innocent when you first met him, flirting with you shyly before you got gestured to the next member by the staff at the fan meet. Somehow convincing a manager to let him talk to you again, quickly sliding you his number before he got pulled back stage to prepare for the concert. It’s been a year since that fateful day and he was constantly surprising you. Whether it was constantly gifting you presents, or taking you on random dates you were definitely well endowed with his attention.

You knew that wasn’t the only side to Hendery, the side that was always joking around, making you laugh until you felt like your lungs were going to burst. You knew that Hendery had a different side, especially after witnessing his duality at concerts.

This was nothing like you had imagined.

Straddling his thigh while he watched you grind against him, only dressed in one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of panties. Hickeys already marking your throat where Hendery got impatient - read jealous - while watching you talk with your flirty coworker. A smirk on his lips as you watched your thighs shake, head thrown back while your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders.

“So pretty.” He cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him so that your chests were touching, placing a sloppy kiss over your jugular. “All mine.”

You could only whine at his possessiveness, loving the way he tightens around your neck before letting go. Your hips start to stutter as you feel your orgasm nearing, fire burning so bright you felt as if it was going to burn you alive.

“N-need c-cum please.” Hendery’s smirk only grew while he restrained your hips, forcing your orgasm to fade away into nothingness. A sob falling from your lips while you smacked at his hands, your fourth failed orgasm of the night.

Hendery tsked as he rubbed his thumb over your bare hip, feeling his cock hardening at the sound of your dry sobs.

“You know you’re not allowed to cum. Need to show you that no one would make you feel like me.” You nodded your head as Hendery tapped your hip, signaling for you to start up again.

God, your stupid fucking coworker. You don’t even know why you agreed to go to the company holiday party. Typically choosing to just go home and cuddle with Hendery, occasionally with Bella also when Xiao had you dog sitting. You shouldn’t have told Lula that you would definitely be attending, what even came over you? Maybe it was the fact that she was the nicest one in the office, constantly joining you for lunch and becoming a workplace friend. Either way you regret it now.

You definitely regretted bringing Hendery as your date, especially knowing his tendency to get jealous. Witnessing it after Lucas got too cuddling after a few drinks, appointing you and Ten as his items of affection for the night. Hendery had dragged you to his room after witnessing Lucas attempt to sloppily kiss your cheek. He handed you one of his t-shirts before pulling you onto the bed, keeping you in his room and out of the eyes of the other guys.

You saw how antsy he was while watching you get ready, eyeing your body con dress, attempting to subtly pull it further down your thighs. His hands roaming your thighs as he watched you apply makeup. You had only sighed before asking him if he wanted to come, hoping that him being with you would calm him, keeping his jealousy at bay.

He knew you didn’t know that your coworker Jaehyuk would get flirty while drunk. Easily sliding into the empty space beside you Hendery had left when he went to the bathroom. A strained smile on your lips as you awkwardly sipped your drink, eyes flitting around to see if you could find literally anybody else to talk to. Jaehyuk didn’t let you go that easily, unwanted compliments steadily flowing from his mouth. Hendery had actually witnessed the whole thing, not trusting an intoxicated man with you. Only gripping his cup tightly, laughing at his poor attempts to flirt. It wasn’t until Jaehyuk reached out to you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. Hendery hadn’t even heard the whimper that left your mouth, didn’t need to see the fear in your eyes before he was crossing the room and yanking you behind him. Saying a few choice words that left your coworker shaking as Hendery led you quickly out of the building.

Hendery didn’t want to risk you thinking about anyone else, leading to his plan to edge you until he was the only thing on your mind, the name on your tongue.

And so far? It was working exactly as planned.

“Aw look at my jeans baby, you're soaking through them.” Embarrassment flooded through you at his condescending tone. His hands squeezing your hips as he felt them start to stutter again, helping you get off.

“You wanna cum baby?” You eagerly nodded your head, hope in your mind that maybe he would go easy on you after all. You are his baby girl after all. That means he’ll be nice to you right? Right?

“Stand up.” Another sob left your mouth, feeling the pain of another lost orgasm. “Right now.” Hendery’s tone was biting, only wanting you to obey him. You stood up on shaky legs, feeling your panties uncomfortably sticking to your folds. He tsked again as he lifted your shirt, revealing the darkening pastel fabric of your underwear. Teasingly tracing around it, laughing at the way you stiffened when he pressed your clit, sensitive from riding his thigh for an hour.

“Bedroom.” The finality in Hendery’s letting you know that there wasn’t room for argument. Quickly heading to the bedroom you wasted time laying on his bed, waiting for his next instruction.

“Do you think you deserve my dick baby? You were awfully friendly with him today.” You shook your head hurriedly, as you tried to get on your knees only for him to push you back down.

“I need you, please Hendery. S’ wet for you. Need you to ruin me.” Hendery’s smirk only grew at your choice of words. Quickly removing his clothes before coming closer to the bed, running his hands over your thighs so he could watch the way that you squirm. Knowing just how much you’ll come to regret your words.

“Mm really? Want me to ruin you?”

“Please.” Hendery’s hand slid up your thighs, squeezing them intermediately before moving to the hem of your underwear, sliding his finger underneath the elastic. Pulling them to the side to admire your pussy that was glistening from your arousal.

“Aw you want me to fuck you like you’re a slut? Nothing more than my dumb little toy.”

You gasped as he blew on your clit, cold air causing you to twitch and grind your hips against the hair. Hendery only repeated the action before licking a line up your cunt, moaning as he tasted your arousal.

“My little slut tastes so good. No wonder Jaehyuk tried to get a taste.” Before you could even show your distaste at hearing that name in such an intimate time Hendery was attaching his lips to your clit. Hands flying down to tangle themselves in his dark hair, hips attempting to grind against his face when he placed a hand on your stomach, keeping your hips pinned to the bed so that you were at his mercy. Only able to pull on his hair and writhe uselessly at the onslaught of pleasure until Hendery got tired of it. And Hendery never got tired of eating pussy.

30 minutes of pure torture. Whenever he felt you clenching around his tongue too much, or a moan would get a little too loud he’d slow down. Blow on your clit, and wait for you to start to sob before going back in. Sucking on your clit even harder before repeating the process, ruining so many orgasms that you felt as if you were going insane. All of your thoughts were of Hendery and your absolute need to have him in you.

“Aw poor little baby. Look at you, trying to hump the air cause I’m not touching you.” Hendery’s condescending tone only added to his constant teasing, and belittling. Hendery loved making you like this, absolutely dick dumb. Your eyes were completely glazed over while your body shook from your dry sobs. Something so alluring knowing that you completely wanted him, hearing the constant begging leaving your swollen lips.

Leaning in he placed his lips on yours. It took a minute for your addled mind to realize what was happening. When the confusion cleared you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him down so that he was flush against your chest, his shirt rubbing almost uncomfortably over your sensitive nipples. His hands went to your waist, squeezing them gently before sliding his hands up under your shirt, cupping your breasts and enjoying the way that you moaned into his mouth. Quickly Hendery went to work, squeezing and flicking your nipples while his tongue slid into your work, licking into your mouth and sliding over the back of your teeth. Fingers dancing down your sides before slipping into your underwear, two fingers circling over your hole before shoving them inside of you, a high pitched moan leaving your mouth at the unexpected intrusion.

Pleads leaving your mouth when he attached his lips to your throat, sucking bruises higher up your throat. So many that you wouldn’t be able to hide them next time you say your ‘flirty’ coworker’. No way that any simple excuse would work for it, everyone would instantly know what happened and who did it. Practically branding his name into your throat, everyone being able to see that you’re his. All his to do whatever he wanted to. His little doll. His slut.

His finger’s steadily massaged over your sweet spot, thumb rubbing over your clit. Your hips were grinding against his hand, whining at the intense need to cum, scared that he was going to pull away at the last minute and cause actual tears.

“You're so close, baby. Cum for me. Cum for daddy.” Hendery drank in all of your moans as you orgasmed, still working his fingers inside of you while placing sloppy kisses along your neck, one kiss for each bruise. Pulling his fingers out and placing them in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste of your cum that coated his fingers. Watching as your eyes slowly fluttered open to look at him, watching him clean his fingers with a content sigh. Fire already starting to burn again, knowing that the only way you would be satisfied is for him to fuck you.

“Kunhang please.” You rarely said his actual name during sex, so this was more than a pleasant surprise. His cock throbbed hearing it roll off your tongue, and he realized while he was teasing you he was also teasing himself the same exact way. Pulling his fingers from his mouth he quickly helped you take off your shirt, throwing it across the room before hastily taking his jeans off, almost falling off the bed in his haste. A quiet giggle left the both of you when he finally plopped back down, pulling you on top of him, swiftly kissing you again. Less dirty than earlier, but just as needy on both of your parts. Hands entangling in your hair before roughly forcing you to sit up, watching you arch back into nothing.

“Come on baby. You want me baby right?” Hendery smirked while watching you eagerly nod your head. “Then ride me baby. Fuck yourself on my dick.”

Hendery released your hair and watched how you quickly moved to sit on his cock, barely bothering to pull your panties to the side. Another loud moan leaving your mouth as you felt your tight cunt stretch around his dick, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself.

“Come on slut. You were begging for my dick right?” A hard slap to your ass punctuated his sentence, causing you to clench unconsciously around his dick. “Then move.”

You started to bounce on him, setting a frantic pace nervous that if you didn’t he wouldn’t let you cum again. You could not handle another lost orgasm. Hendery rewarded you with a deep groan, gripping your hips tightly as you rode him like you were on a mission. His dick sliding over all of your sweet spots, the fire in your stomach growing intensely. You tried so hard to get yourself there, not wanting to disappoint him but your thighs started to shake. Already weak from being edged for almost two hours, and they only started to burn at the intense pace you had set, spreading up your hips and down to your knees.

“Can’t.” You cried out, trying to keep your set pace. Hendery’s fingers dug into your waist. You were certainly going to have bruises of his hand prints all over you.

“Can’t wait. My dumb doll can’t ride dick?” Hendery set his heels into the bed, before fucking up into you as you continued to cry that you can’t.

“You wanted my dick. But can’t even ride my dick.” Hendery grunted as he resumed the pace you set, fucking up into you hard. Your mouth hanging open, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. “So fucking pathetic. My dumb fucking doll.” Hendery slid one of his hands to your clit, rubbing it roughly with his hand causing your second orgasm to hit you, cum squirting out of you and coating his thighs and stomach. At the feeling of you clenching around him he couldn’t himself and came, continuing to fuck his cum deeper into you, only stopping as you started to whine. Wrapping his arms around you, not bothering to pull out as he turned you both to the sides.

“I’m tired.” Hendery laughed at how childish you were speaking, cuddling your head further onto his chest.

“Take a nap doll. Just know we’re not done yet.” You sighed before taking his advice, the room slowly darkening and the sound of his soothing heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

God, you should’ve stayed awake. You knew he was planning something funny when he told you to sleep, but you hadn’t imagined he would wake you up with his slow thrusts, hands on either side of you while you bit the pillow below you, attempting to muffle your moans. The sounds of people stirring in the dorm caused slight fear to flow through you, panic at the thought of Ten coming into the room and seeing Hendery fucking you.

You tried to bury your face further into the pillow but Hendery had other plans, pulling your hips up so that you were on four and grabbing your hair. Yanking it causing your mouth to drop open and a loud moan to echo through the room. You already knew without seeing them that the boys had heard it, the sound of shuffling feet and forks hitting bowls stopping it briefly. You could already imagine Ten, and Lucas’ cocky smirks at the sound, Winwin’s face turning bright red from embarrassment, while Kun just tried to change the topic because of Xiao and Yangyang asking too many questions. It wasn’t the first time that they had heard you, and knowing Hendery it wouldn’t be the last.

“You're thinking about them hearing us.” You tried to deny it but Hendery only slapped your ass, the smack resounding throughout the room and if you didn’t know better you could almost hear one of the boys saying ‘ouch’. “The way you’re clenching around me. Thinking about one of them walking in huh? See me fucking my kids deeper into your messy cunt, still dripping with my cum from earlier.” Another loud moan, and an awkward cough from the other room. White, hot shame flooded your veins, knowing you wouldn’t be able to face the boys afterwards.

Teeth digging into your lip, trying to protect the little bit of dignity you still had around the boys. Hendery didn’t like that one. Grabbing your hands and holding them against your back, forcing your arch to deepen. In this position every thrust hit your g spot directly, and you weren’t able to muffle your moans, only able to helplessly drool at the intense sensations. Your continuous lack of noise was only angering Hendery, wanting all of the boys to know how good he makes you feel. They would never be able to see you like this, dick dumb and drooling, only able to mumble as he fucked into you like this.

“Dumb fucking doll. Feel so good you can’t even moan huh?” Pulling your arms you groaned from the pain as he pulled you back into his chest, free hand sliding around to play with your poor, swollen clit. Abusing it once more as he rubbed sloppy circles over it, pressing his thumb against it harshly causing a scream to leave your mouth.

“My dumb doll. My little fucking slut. All mine.” You felt yourself clench around him, orgasm rapidly approaching along with some pain from overstimulation.

“Cum for me doll, all over my dick just like this.” With one last well placed bite from Hendery at the base of your throat you felt your orgasm wash over you. Warm, tears flowing down your face as he continued to fuck into you, squirting more of his thick, hot cum into your tired cunt. Hendery slowly pulled out, laying you onto the bed before tossing on some sweatpants and heading to the bathroom.

After very thorough aftercare, you were sitting in bed with Hendery, eating noodles while watching some random movie that he had put on, Bella sensing your slightly distressed state was curled up on your lap. Glancing over at Hendery you watched as he laughed before shoving noodles into his mouth, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

No matter how many sides he had to, you loved each one of them.

⇣Random Crack Dialogue⇣

“Should we go check on her? It’s been an hour since we’ve heard anything.”

“I don’t even want to sleep in my bed, they’ve contaminated the whole room.” Ten whined while throwing himself onto Lucas.

“Let them be, we all saw how Hendery grinned at us while getting the food. He’s doing all this on purpose.”

“It is weird to say I’m proud of him.” All of them turned to Yangyang, who only shrugged his shoulders as he went back to stealing Winwin’s chips. “I mean out of everybody I would’ve thought that Lucas would be the first one to do that.”

“Hey! Can you guys believe him?”

Silence ensued, as everybody believed it.

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green-blue-heller · 3 years

Note

Sorry, I am blind as Jared, how is what he said offensive and insulting?

Theres a whole backstory that I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, nonnie.

But essentially because he had a meltdown on Twitter over the announcement they Jensen was working on a prequel.

It was obvious he didn’t even read the article and jumped the gun and got pissy even stating about Sam Winchester not being involved.

When the show is about John and Mary and set in 1972, almost ten years before Sam is born.

Plus, it’s not even a series yet. Right now, it’s just that the network is willing to pay Chaos Machine to provide them with at least one script (the article didn’t say how many scripts they committed to).

The network could still say no, or require changes. Of Jensen didn’t want those changes then he could say no and drop the project.

Plus, my understanding is that the publication is basically used to find investors. So it was their way of reaching out and saying “we have rights to this beloved and long running IP and we want to do something with it” and then investors would be like “oh, yes, I can see how this is will work out nice and I’d like to be involved” and give them money to make the show, for a piece of the profits.

This is a show about family and friends. And then you have the actor who was another lead, and brother to the producer, throwing a tantrum about not being told or given the opportunity to be involved (when there is nothing to be involved in yet, because there is no show and no script yet).

That could be a turn off to investors who then decide to not be part of the show.

Not only that, but Jensen didn’t owe him anything. This is Jensen’s company and Jensen’s future. And it could have just gotten fucked up.

They’d talked about retiring from acting after SPN and I think Jensen was probably hoping to be able to do that in the near future. Chaos Machine, I assume, was intended to be his big ticket item that would generate the most profits for him. And allow him to still stay in the tv and movie industry, while still having the brewery and his band.

The last couple years especially, Jensen seems more like the babysitter than the friend/older brother. And I think he’s been distancing himself.

Idk if the pic Jensen posted at 3 am was him letting out frustration or if it is meant as a nod to what Soldier Boy is going through in the series.

But I think more the former. Jensen talked about in the Gish zoom about how he hasn’t seen his family in 8 weeks (and it’s been a month since that zoom, so now it’s been even longer) and that it was the longest he’s gone without being able to see Danneel and the kids. And that for the first time ever, he has to miss his daughter’s birthday.

So, the announcement comes, the meltdown comes, the forced PR smooth over happens. The next day, Jared, who in their March panel talked about how he can’t be with his kids for more than 20 minutes and said he doesn’t know what to do with “these things” when they want him to play with them, posts a pic of them all in the pool.

I’m not sure if he did it intentionally. But considering he hasn’t posted about the kids really at all, it seems like it was an intentional dig at Jensen.

Then you have Gen and Dee putting up IG stories which seemed to be a dig at the other family. And then Jensen made a post that also could have been a dig back at Jared.

Either way; then Jensen posts about trying to cope with shit and Jared responds about having nightmares about the post.

But at this point, he needs to just step back and let Jensen live his life. They don’t need to appear to be best friends anymore. Jensen already got rid of the house that was down the road from Jared a few years ago.

Now he’s moved to Colorado. And sure, they still have a house somewhere in Austin, but I get the feeling that Colorado will be their main residence.

So, while Jared was the one who thought the show ended in a satisfying manner, knowing Jensen did not feel the same at all, and has mentioned many times about how Dean would be back, Jared seems to be the one who is unable to let go.

Jared is producing and starring in a new show.

So I don’t know why he feels he has the right to be angry at Jensen for wanting to bring back a version of the show that Jensen also starred in. Especially when he’s been vocal since at least comic con in July 2019, about coming back and it not being over for him.

This also makes me think that the show was literally ending so that he go on to do the other show for the network. That Jensen hadn’t wanted to end it after 15, but really didn’t have a choice.

Tl;dr: Jared acted childish and could have ruined Jensen’s first production with his new company. It also paints a bad image for Chaos Machine to investors and to the moose’s stans who have since started attacking Jensen and Danneel over this.

All he had to do, was send him a text or call him.

But then again, he’s known for Twitter meltdowns and sending his fans to attack whoever he has a grievance against.

#anon #j2 fallout theory #j2 fallout #Jared padalecki needs to back the fuck off #he wasn’t owed anything #prequelgate #spn prequel #the winchesters

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onlythebrave-mp3 · 3 years

Text

my top 2020 fics!

okay! so i recently jumped back into this fandom after a couple of years, and started reading fic again, and i wanted to rec some of my favorites that were written this year. there’s ten on this list, and i probably could’ve done like 30 but this is already so long lol. it’s kind of in a general order, so #1 is my fav for this year, but i tried not to focus on the ranking too much because it stresses me out and i don’t need any more anxiety so it’s ended up being a pretty vague system.

1. Our Lives, Non-Fiction (113k) by @indiaalphawhiskey

listen. I’ve reblogged this fic like 10 times. I’ve read it twice already and it came out less than 3 weeks ago. It is an instant classic, right up there with fics like TIF or Wear it like a Crown. It has gorgeous, gorgeous writing, a thoroughly developed plot and well written character development, and such a compelling story. It is a marcel/louis fic, and I usually shy away from that kind of thing, but i’m so glad i didn’t this time because god, this one is so good. Seriously, if anyone ends up reading it, come and rant to me about it and we can cry together. Halfway through the second chapter, I created a note on my phone so I could keep track of everything I loved, and my comment on that fic is essentially a love letter to @indiaalphawhiskey. It's just so good. If you’re going to read one fic off this list, read this one.

2. Loving You's a Bloodsport (106k) by @rosesau

okay i’m pretty sure this one made me cry like four times, which is a feat for me because i’m not usually a crier. Its soulmates with a little bit of a twist, and the plot is so well developed. Harry and louis’ feelings and their progression are written so vividly and i wish i could forget that i read it so i could go and read it again for the first time. It's also got some enemies to lovers, which is my favorite trope, and all of the side characters are beautifully developed as well. Prince!Harry, soldier!Louis, angsty soulmates. What more could you want? Oh and if you’re not convinced enough, here is a quote that fucking follows me around because its so beautiful: “Love and hate are two sharp knives balanced on a very fine line and I’ve cut myself on both because of you.” (ohmygod)

3. Mine Would Be You (114k) by @crinkle-eyed-boo

okay this one is listed at number three but it really should be 1c lol. I started this one at 11 pm like an idiot, and i don’t think i slept that night at all. It's Exes to lovers, and it's so well written. It switches between the past and the present, it's heartbreakingly beautiful, the breakup and resolution are both so realistically written as well, and there's a great ot5 plotline too that i really loved. This one was also an instant classic- i bookmarked it before i even finished reading it. It's also got beautiful art and Louis and Harry are both artists in NYC, which I'm a slut for. Please read this one, it's so good.

okay i just realized how long this got so i’m putting the rest under the cut

4. The Murmur of Yearning (93k) by @mediawhorefics (for some reason tumblr isn’t letting me tag them??) | mediawhore on ao3

I just finished this one, and my goddddddd it's so good. I read it in a day, and it's essentially 100k. Which isn’t that unusual for me except I did skip a class to get through it (an exam prep class. Not my finest moment but I passed. so.) There are tons of original characters that draw you in, and the whole world that is created is so fascinating and detailed. There's also no homophobia, so if you like historical fics but get triggered by that kind of thing, this is for you! Also, if you’re worried about the non-con elements, I'm sure you could message the author but also feel free to check in with me! I’ll definitely be rereading it in the near future and am totally up for discussing and crying over this fic with anyone.

5. Remember Me Fondly by @bluejeanlouis | kiddle on ao3

ahhhhhhh this one made me sob too! It's set in both the present and the past, and I fell in love with all of the characters. This one is also heartbreaking, but I promise there’s a happy ending. Also, they way this fic deals with the fame and the homophobia and tours that harry and louis went through -even if it isn’t actually canon and is set in the 90s- is so vividly painful and realistic. It's written half through a journalist’s eyes and half through harry and louis, yet the switch in pov is so seamless and fluid and adds so much to the piece. 11/10.

6. Nothing But You On My Mind (83k) by @absoloutenonsense | nonsensedarling on ao3

okay. I started this in the middle of the night, and told myself I'd read one chapter to see if I liked it and then I would go to sleep. I'm pretty sure I read like 6. It sucks you in right from the beginning, and there's such a well developed plot. And it's so unpredictable and all of the details are so nuanced and tiny and then you look back at everything after you’ve finished it and go oh. Ohhhhhh. This one is also enemies to lovers. Are we sensing a pattern here?

7. An Invincible Summer (44k) by @twopoppies | Brooklyn_Babylon on ao3

so as you can see this one is only 45k but i just love it so much that i’m rec’ing in anyways. It’s such a gentle, exploratory piece of literal art, and I kind of want to stay in the world that was created forever. Its set in the 1940s on a farm and i know @twopoppies has said that it started off as an excuse for barn sex, but it such a vivid story and its heartbreaking and emotional and uplifting all at once and please please please go read this. The only critique I have of it is that it's only 40k.

8. Somewhere in Between Lightning (99k) by @nauticalleeds, @shiningdistraction, and jassy117 on ao3

So this one's exes-to-lovers as well, and it's written in such a realistic way. Also i’m in love with the concept of louis on love island, despite the fact that he said he hates it. There's a sauna scene that I still think about sometimes. It's got just the right amount of angst and fluff and pining and despite the fact that it's set on a show that is usually pretty dramatic and unrealistic, this is written in a really beautiful but pragmatic way. I love it. i’ve got it downloaded on my phone so I can read little snippets of it sometimes if I have to wait somewhere.

9. You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) (95k) by @harryrainbows | lucythegoosey on ao3

god so this one incorporates some of Fine Line into it, and wouldn’t say it's a song fic so much as it is written as a canon compliant fic that ties harry’s songs into it and its done so fucking well oh my god. Harry and Louis are exes in this one too (lol i'm sorry) and the build up of them getting together and the pining and longing is written really well.

10. At Risk, I Fold (15k) by @bearmustard | clare328 on ao3

so i know this one is only 15k, but I put this in the list anyways. It's canon compliant, and it does mention the stunts (as stunts), but don’t let that deter you. Harry and Louis are written almost exactly as i’ve imagined them, and this one is such a heartbreaking look into the resilience and love and bravery that they have. It made me cry despite the fact that it’s not really a glum fic. The only reason it is last on the list is because it's shorter and i was mostly intending this to be a long fic rec. The love that they have for each other really shines through in this one, and it’s super gentle and soft and sad and happy all at once and just please go read it.

#my fic rec #hoping this doesnt flop lol #if people like this i might do more #we'll see lmao #also #if you ask me who tops/bottoms #in any of these fics #you owe me $10 #reading fics specifically for who takes it up the arse is weird <3

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restapesta · 3 years

Text

gossip never ends

Mickey Milkovich simply just showed up one day at the Old Army, tattoos on his knuckles and a scowl on his face. Lola couldn't help but be intrigued -- nobody lasts here long enough to pique her interest, but there was something special about this guy. The gossip spreads like wildfire, but Mickey's something else altogether -- it's just a matter of time before Lola and her friends figured out why.

OR: How Mickey's coworkers found out about who Mickey really was back in season 10 -- this is more of an outlook on Mickey and his feelings throughout season 10 and how it reflected on his job and altogether his demeanor.

This is based on a prompt by @whatwouldmickeydo which was also even more explored by one of my favorite Gallavich accounts on Tumblr @ianandmickeygallavich -- so, I simply just worked through what they had already created. I hope they don't mind I used their prompt and this is dedicated to both of them! Enjoy!

words: 5.3k

The gossip began almost the exact moment Mickey was introduced to the three workers by the manager.

The Old Army staff was not a stranger to new workers coming and going, some people sticking around longer, working for a couple of months without stop, maybe even sticking around for a full-time position; some just passing through while on trial-basis, failing to meet the manager's demands and simply moving on to find better or more fitting employment -- but the sight of Mickey Milkovich was definitely not something, Lola thought, anybody, not just the curious employees, was used to.

Lola fell into the group of people who had been working at the store for ages now, starting years ago and still sticking around now, subsequently being present for all the biggest changes made to and within the popular store. She saw the interior change, the managers shift, the employees getting hired and fired -- she saw it all. It couldn't be said for many people. Honestly, only three members of the Old Army staff had actually been working full-time here, while everybody else was just a passing face.

She was so used to seeing new faces that it simply did not phase her anymore -- Lola had her own stable position in the store; she had her colleagues which she got along with, and she never paid much attention to the newbies once they came into the store. She knew it was almost always just for a short while, basically until they made a mistake while working and got politely declined for the position, so she usually just remained civil, not engaging in much mingling or bonding -- it wouldn't last anyway.

The staff change happened way too often, especially with security. The store management had no idea how to pick the right person for the job -- they either always chose the gangly, skinny types; the ones who couldn't defend others or themselves from a burglar if their life depended on it, or they chose the fatties who had a donut too many during their break and couldn't chase ten feet after the culprit.

Still, this guy -- this new, weirdly interesting guy -- seemed promising.

Lola had no idea where they managed to find him -- he was kinda hot, and definitely in really good shape with thighs and calves that could probably kill if they wanted to. He seemed crude and unapproachable, and the brooding, mysterious attitude definitely didn't quench anybody's curiosity as to where the hell he came from and how the hell they managed to find him of all the people in the world. A scowl was constantly etched on the newcomer's face -- not just when he was being introduced to the staff by the manager, as Lola thought would be the case -- but literally at every single given moment of the workday.

There were only rare moments Lola and the others saw him smile -- usually every single one of those moments being when he was texting someone during his break, or when he was coming back from having lunch with someone at the food court. Not that anyone would dare ask who, although they definitely speculated.

Mickey was the type of guy Lola was interested in making friends with. She approached him once during their shared shift -- usually, she wouldn't even bother, seeing how these guards come and go, but this one really piqued her interest -- trying to figure out who he was, where he came from, what he was doing here. Was he single? She needed to know for her lady friend considering how he was most definitely a sight for sore eyes.

It came as somewhat a surprise when he gave off clipped answers to her questions, most of them not even answering.

"Did you always work security?" She'd ask with a bright smile.

"You could say that."

Silence.

"How long are you planning on staying with us?" Trial-basis or undefined employment? Lola wondered silently.

"Until Larry finds me a better job."

Silence.

"Who?"

Silence. And then a quick, "Never mind."

Lola had officially given up on her efforts to befriend and find out more about the man once Mickey gave her a sharp, pointed stare after she pointed out he didn't have a ring on his finger, hoping he would reveal his relationship status to her.

She most certainly wasn't that lucky, and she almost shat her pants at the murderous expression on his face. She didn't ask again.

The others tried to pry information out of Mickey too, but they certainly lacked the subtlety Lola had. She honestly couldn't say she was the most discreet person in the world, but she was in the Old Army, considering how she found herself working with the two most non-discreet people in the world. Lola was upfront too -- let's not get that wrong.

But at least she didn't outright ask him if he was in a gang like Jeremy did.

"I wanted to know if the tattoos were gang symbols! They freaked me out!" The skinny twenty-year-old replied when the other workers gaped at him with wide eyes.

Jenna shook her head. "Dude, you can't just ask a guy if he was in a gang."

He wouldn't reveal his age, let alone his gang status if he had one, Lola scolded Jeremy mentally. The guy was as open as a seashell -- you could try and pry it open to see if it had a pearl inside, but you'll most likely fail and, to be honest, probably get pinched in the process, if not careful. It was perhaps best not to even try or, if you did, to proceed with extreme caution. A bunch of seashells didn't even have pearls in them anyway, so it'd all be useless in the end.

It only took a week for the staff to find out how Mickey managed to find himself here at Old Army out of all the possible places in the world. It was a shock, to say the least.

One morning, the revelation came when Larry Seaver showed up to the store, dressed in a nice suit and tie, wearing his casual, perky smile. He asked for the manager and had greeted Mickey immediately once he laid eyes on the man. Larry approached him as Jeremy went to get the manager, placing a firm hand on Mickey's shoulder, smiling widely at him.

Lola and Jenna weren't snooping, but they did manage to overhear Larry asking Mickey if he enjoyed working here; if everything was going well; if he was staying out of trouble -- a question that certainly didn't help stop the gossip -- and if he settled in home nicely.

Mickey responded to most of his questions with short, non-descriptive answers, but not with any malice or disdain. He answered them as if he had to, putting an emphasis on the "I'm not getting into any trouble, don't worry Mr. Cheery," making Lola wonder why the question even needed to be posed.

When the manager finally showed up, greeting the man happily, Larry followed him to his office, leaving the others to get back to the customers -- and some to get back to stopping crime. It was only when Larry Seaver left that Jenna shouted, "Oh my God, he's a parole officer!" at the other two workers while drinking coffee in the break room.

"He's a what?" Jeremy asked, slightly confused.

"A parole officer! I heard him talking to the manager about Mickey and how he's settling in. Mickey is a parolee!"

"Jesus Christ, I knew it! And you told me I shouldn't be scared." Jeremy answered with a sullen look, exaggerating a shudder.

Lola quirked an eyebrow at her friend. "Were you eavesdropping?" She was more amused than surprised if she was honest.

Jenna shook her head at Lola in exasperation. "So not the point. Lola, the guy went to prison!"

"We should all just quit now," Jeremy added.

"Come on, you big baby. The guy keeps to himself. You have literally nothing to be scared of." Lola was rolling her eyes at the man, slightly annoyed at the comments.

It didn't surprise her Mickey was here on parole -- it didn't surprise her he was in prison at all. He seemed like the type, not just because of his sullen look and crude knuckle tattoos. It also had a lot to do with the way he carried himself as if the entire world was against him and he needed to protect himself from the inevitable upcoming battle. It was probably why he never spoke to anybody, why he never had coffee with them, and why he seemed to avoid human contact at all possible times. It was also, now, very much obvious why he was so good at guarding the store -- it takes a criminal to catch a criminal, she guessed.

Honestly, it all just made him more interesting.

"I kind of think it's hot," Jenna admitted sheepishly.

Jeremy's eyes bulged out. "You're kidding me."

She shook her head, smiling like a teenage girl. "He's dark, brooding, mysterious. And he's got a really nice ass."

Lola laughed at her friend and at Jeremy's horrified expression. "You should go flirt with him. Maybe you'll be able to figure out if he's single or not." She was only partly joking. Jenna probably didn't need a repeat of what Lola had gone through.

She sighed sadly. "A guy like that is not single."

"Yeah, sure. An ex-con definitely isn't single and is probably in an extremely committed relationship with somebody who loves him for who he is. And that same ex-con guy totally loves somebody back with his whole, entire heart." Jeremy quipped sarcastically and Jenna pinched his bicep in response.

"Love is love, asshole. People murder for love."

Jeremy nodded in response. "Exactly. That's probably why he was in prison."

Jenna rolled her eyes. "You know what? Unlike Jeremy here, I'm not a pussy. I'm gonna go talk to him."

Lola's eyes widened in response and she smiled widely. If anyone would take the bullet for the team, it'd be Jenna. "You go, girl! Get him. Just make sure to be subtle about it"

Jeremy and Lola watched as Jenna went up to Mickey who was standing next to the Old Army store entrance, looking as bored and uninterested as ever. When he saw Jenna approaching, he grimaced, obviously preparing himself for the confrontation.

Jeremy and Lola locked eyes as Jenna began to audibly flirt with Mickey. They couldn't hear everything she was saying from where they were eavesdropping but they didn't hear Mickey even speak. Based on the disappointed look on Jenna's face when she walked into the break room again, they didn't think it went that well.

"So?" Lola inquired hopefully.

Jenna shook her head. "Completely uninterested. I even made my boobs look bigger in this shirt. Didn't work, obviously."

"What'd he say?" Lola probed deeper.

"Well, I asked where he lived, where he used to work, if he was settling in nicely -- and he just kind of hummed."

"Hummed?"

"He barely even answered the questions."

"Maybe he's gay and in a committed relationship with a dude," Jeremy added sarcastically, once again. "Maybe I should go up and flirt with him instead. See if it works for me."

Jenna rolled her eyes at Jeremy's sarcasm. "You're too big of a pussy to do it. Plus he's probably not gay."

Jeremy didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he just smiled. "Whatever you say, Jenny. Oh, by the way -- I totally am."

Mickey never spent his break with the others. In fact, he was either sitting outside the store, drinking Pinkberry and messing around with his phone, or he was at the food court, presumably meeting somebody for lunch. Lola was dying to know who, but she never dared to ask or to check, although it would have been so easy.

The curiosity extended out of the workplace as well -- Jenna, Lola, and Jeremy had a group chat. It was, at first, formed as a work chat, purely for announcements and work hours, but as time passed -- and as the employees and employers changed -- it evolved into something much more. Now, it was their main gossiping media.

--- old army besties ---

LOLA (9:56 PM): I can't find him anywhere on social media.

JEREMY (9:58 PM): You're obsessed.

LOLA (9:58 PM): Fuck off, Jeremy.

JENNA (10:03 PM): There are a bunch of articles about him escaping prison!!!!!!!!!

LOLA (10:04 PM): NO SHIT

LOLA (10:04 PM): LINK NOW

LOLA (10:04 PM): !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

JENNA (10:06 PM): https://images.app.goo.gl/rzDzCogf1H84QD78A

JENNA (10:06 PM): HEHAGDJADGAIGDAJFGAJFGAJFGA

LOLA (10:08 PM): oh my god

JENNA (10:08 PM): I KNOW

JEREMY (10:07 PM): ya'll are crazy

JENNA (10:08 PM): Is it bad it just makes me even more attracted to him??????

JEREMY (10:09 PM): yes.

LOLA (10:09 PM): NO!

LOLA (10:10 PM): Jenna, same.

JEREMY (10:11 PM): I have a psych ward to recommend you to. Hold up.

JENNA (10:11 PM): Jeremy, stfu

*JEREMY has left the chat*

LOLA (10:12 PM): You wanna add him back in or should I?

JENNA (10:12 PM): Neither.

JENNA (10:12 PM): Let him suffer.

The gossiping continued for a while. It didn't honestly seem like it would stop at all, and nobody really seemed inclined to put an end to the wildfire gossip that spread through the entire Old Army staff. Not that anyone cared much, either, if they were being completely honest.

One day, though, the Mickey who was always grumpy and never without a scowl seemed particularly furious.

He spoke to no one, he didn't check his phone at all, which was a rare occurrence and almost never happened -- he was usually glued to the thing, always texting someone -- and he basically looked like he was ready to kill the next person who dared steal something from the store.

"Anyone wanna ask what crawled up his ass and died?" Jenna asked lowly, observing Mickey from where she and Lola stood behind the cash register. Jeremy hung around in the back, angry that they still hadn't added him back to the group chat.

Lola simply grimaced. "I guess we've been dealing with happy Mickey all this time."

Jeremy pretended not to pay much attention to them, very much bitter. He just muttered, as a side note, loud enough to get even Mickey's attention, "Yo, I guess they found who killed that parole officer."

That piqued Lola's interest. The murder was all over the news the day before -- a parole officer named Paula had been thrown out the window -- and Lola didn't expect them to have found the killer so soon.

"Already?" She wondered, out loud.

"Who is it?" Jenna asked.

"Some ex of hers -- Shelly, I think. They arrested her yesterday."

Lola released a sigh. "That's some good news. Now she can't hurt anybody else." She mentally applauded the police for the good and quick work.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Mickey was listening in to their conversation. She could have sworn she heard him snort when she muttered the last part, the one about it being good news. She saw an opening, and when Lola began to open her mouth and try and include him in the conversation, he had already turned around and left to stand back at his regular spot, expression sullen, pretending as if he never even cared to listen in after all.

Mickey was gone all of a sudden one day -- as the manager had told them briefly, on paid leave. He didn't reveal why or when he'd be coming back, only saying how Mickey had something important come up, and that he'd eventually be back. He didn't seem to be aggravated while talking about Mickey, so Lola guessed he didn't get fired, nor that he was being tested again for his position -- he had honestly been doing great. Better than the ones before him, at least.

Lola was actually somewhat shocked. She was also slightly disappointed he didn't tell her.

Mickey had actually started opening up a little -- not much (when she said little she meant very little) -- but he was finally communicating with them during their shift together, something he most certainly hadn't even tried to do, no matter how hard they tried to push. He also seemed happier, coming in one morning looking the happiest Lola had ever seen him.

It was the first day Mickey made actual conversation with her -- about the ugly clothes in the store, nevertheless -- and she genuinely was starting to like him.

"Maybe he likes you," Jenna told her after noticing them talking.

Lola blushed. "Probably not."

Jeremy snorted and both women turned towards him. "He's probably more attracted to me than you." He muttered absentmindedly while scrolling through his phone.

"Still sticking to the gay theory?" Jenna asked pointedly.

"I may not be dark, brooding, and mysterious, but my gaydar is on point. At first, I was skeptical, but he rocks that pink pastel shirt a little too well." He said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Jenna and Lola shared a look before both rolling their eyes.

"Let's hope he asks you out." Jenna finished and Lola blushed even more. Stupid crush. Jeremy snorted.

She was a little disappointed he was gone but his step-in was a cute guy and the gossip between her, Jeremy, and Jenna was endless -- Jenna and Lola came up with different theories as to where he was which all ranged from family emergencies to crazy prison breaks -- Jeremy would simply roll their eyes at them whenever a new theory came up.

When Mickey came back a couple of days later, it seemed as if he had a spring in his step. For the first time in all the time Lola had known him, instead of a scowl, there was a smile present on his face.

"Holy shit, he's smiling." Jenna pointed out incredulously, and Lola simply nodded shell-shocked. He had a beautiful smile.

It was even weirder when he greeted them when he walked into the store, uttering a simple, "Hey" which neither woman expected.

"So, that's happy Mickey," Lola said under her breath. "Good to know."

The sudden chirpiness didn't disappear throughout his entire shift and Lola began to wonder what type of vacation he had gone on to be this happy. She needed to ask him -- if it could take the stick out of his ass, then it could definitely make her feel like she was in heaven.

The answer came shortly after.

"He's got a ring on his finger."

"What?" Lola and Jenna exclaimed simultaneously, looking at Jeremy like he was crazy.

"The hell are you talking about?" Jenna asked, glancing between Jeremy and Mickey, inconspicuously trying to catch a glimpse of Mickey's hand.

"He's married, guys. He probably got married while he was away. There is a golden band on his ring finger."

Lola and Jenna were surprised they missed it. The ring shone brightly on his left hand, reflecting the shitty lighting of the Old Army store. It looked beautiful and, somehow, it made him look complete. She didn't even realize something was missing until it was there, staring straight at them. That's what the wedding ring seemed like -- a piece of Mickey they were all simply missing. Something that let them know that there was somebody in his life, a single person, who had his heart -- a person who managed to pry open the shell and find the pearl. Perhaps the process was painless; perhaps it wasn't -- Lola supposed there were only two people in the universe who truly knew the answer to that question.

"Well, I didn't see that coming."

Lola chuckled, letting the genuine happiness she felt for him consume her. "Me either."

The next time she passed him, she smiled at the ring widely. "Congratulations! I see the ring." She pointed at his hand.

Mickey smiled softly, gazing at it with a look in his eye Lola could only describe as love. "Yeah, thanks."He seemed a little uncomfortable, so Lola refrained from asking about his wife, and if he had any pictures to show her. She was learning new things about this man every day. The woman who tied him down must have been patient, but also extremely lucky.

"Ugh, I wish he was single," Jenna muttered again later on in the day, gazing longingly at Mickey's ass. "That butt makes the whole ex-con, escaping prison thing worth it."

Lola laughed at her friend, agreeing silently.

It was nearing the end of their shift, and the four people had changed out of their uniforms, getting rid of the ugly pastel pink color, exchanging it with something that was actually fashionable -- Mickey had an especially good fashion sense, in Lola's opinion (he could rock ripped jeans). Mickey had still been in the staff changing room when Lola noticed a guy hanging around the store. A tall, extremely hot redheaded guy, with one of the best bodies she'd seen on a man in a while.

She shook Jenna's arm so she could point out the guy to her, aware that Jenna deserved to gaze at a man this good-looking. He was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt along with skinny jeans that accentuated all of his muscles, from the ones in his arms to his leg ones -- he was ripped, and Lola could only assume there were chiseled abs hiding underneath the shirt. He was drop-dead gorgeous.

Jenna turned around to see what the fuss was about, but her mouth fell open when her eyes landed in the ginger.

"Oh my God, I think just came."

"Me too," Lola admitted. She was genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. "I think we need to get laid."

"Definitely." Jenna's eyes were glued to the man. His hair was perfect too -- slicked back, and just... it was a sort of, ' you simply had to see it to believe it' type of situation. He was beautiful. "Man, how the fuck does God create these men?"

Jenna didn't tear her eyes away. "He must be either really bad in bed or a total douchebag. There's no way he's that hot and nice too."

They suddenly heard Mickey's voice behind them. "Trust me, he's neither."

Lola and Jenna jumped in surprise, but she didn't even have a moment to think about what Mickey said. She was still looking at the ginger, but his green eyes were locked on somebody else though, and he didn't even seem to notice the two women gaping openly at him.

When Lola turned to follow his gaze she was surprised to see it land on Mickey.

"Oh my dear Lord, he's totally eye-fucking Mickey!" She whisper-shouted at Jenna, Mickey being far away not to hear her. Jenna whipped her head around towards where Mickey stood, seemingly unaware.

"Oh my God, he totally is!"

Mickey noticed them staring. He raised an eyebrow at the two women and then as if on a whim, approached them. "You need anything?" He asked, seemingly uncomfortable, but he still paid no attention to the fact a guy was blatantly letting it show on his face that he was imagining all of the things he could probably be doing to Mickey, right now. The redhead had the biggest case of bed-eyes she'd seen in a while.

Lola blinked herself out of her daze. "Um, no. Uh, we just-- we, uh--" She was at a loss for words and Jenna didn't seem to even think about helping.

"Ugh, God." They suddenly heard Jeremy exclaim. All eyes turned to him. "There's a really hot guy outside the store, and he's staring at you." He made a gesture as if saying, 'See, that wasn't so hard now, was it?'. "That's what they're trying to say."

Mickey turned to look forward outside and when his gaze fell on the guy -- the guy he had most certainly already noticed -- his face lit up even more, and his lip curled into a smirk. He turned towards Jeremy and nodded at him. "Glad to see you toughening up."

Jeremy smiled at Mickey as if they were sharing an inside joke, and both Lola and Jenna had no idea what it was. They shared a disbelieving look. "Learned from the best, man," Jeremy replied as they fist-bumped and Lola knew her and Jenna's eyes had to be unnaturally wide.

"So um, so you know the guy outside? He's totally checking you out." Jenna nodded at the hot guy who was still watching them -- watching Mickey, specifically. Lola guessed he was waiting for him, for whatever reason. She guessed hot guys stuck together. If he wasn't a ginger, Lola would have assumed they were brothers and that the good looks simply ran in the gene pool. Lola watched as Mickey locked eyes with the man and smiled. The guy raised his eyebrows in question and Mickey just kept the grin on his face.

"That's Ian, my husband."

Shock couldn't even begin to describe what Lola was currently feeling. If somebody had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water down her back, she would have probably been less surprised. As she was contemplating everything she knew and had been learning about Mickey, the man in question waved towards Ian to join them. Ian made his way inside and Lola could lie and say she didn't swoon.

"Hi." He greeted sheepishly with a smile, previously observing the commotion.

Mickey seemed unnaturally relaxed as he stood close to Ian, wrapping a hand behind his back subconsciously. Lola wondered who the man in front of her was -- it most certainly wasn't the grump Lola had been working with all this time.

"Ian, meet Lola, Jenna, and Jeremy."

Ian smiled politely at all three of them, leaving Lola in a daze -- God, he was gorgeous. She was just about to reply when he nodded at Jeremy specifically. "Sup, Jeremy. Heard a lot about you."

Jeremy smiled back at Ian. "Same, dude. Your husband just can't seem to shut up about you."

Ian smirked, and then turned to look at Mickey, "Is that so?"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Fuck you both. I got married. What am I supposed to do? Just shut up about it? Hell no."

Ian laughed and draped an arm around Mickey's shoulder. "Don't worry, baby. I don't mind."

Ian and Mickey shared a quick look, and Lola wondered if she would ever find a person who would look at her the way these two men looked at each other. She suddenly felt bad for thinking Mickey was straight -- everything about this simple interaction screamed gay.

"We should head home, I know you've been waiting for ages outside."

Ian nodded. "Yeah okay, let's go." He then smiled at the three people in front of them widely. "It was nice meeting you guys."

Jeremy was the only one capable of responding. "You too."

"See ya'," Mickey muttered lamely as a goodbye and the couple was out of the store in the blink of an eye, arms wrapped around each other, talking quietly, their expressions pure happiness.

Lola and Jenna turned around to stare at their friend.

"What the fuck was that?" Lola asked, incredulous.

The traitor in front of them shrugged. "What? While you guys were coming up with conspiracies and weird theories, I actually talked to the guy. He's pretty cool. He was raised and lives on the Southside where he met Ian. He first spent some time in juvie. Got shot twice. Went to prison, escaped from prison, went to Mexico, worked for a cartel, rolled on said cartel be with Ian. They were in prison together and they decided to get married when they got out. He's actually been giving me tips to boost my street cred. We've been working on that shit for some time now."

Lola shook her head in thought. "When did you guys become so close?"

Jeremy snorted. "When you decided not 5o add me back to the group chat, bitches." He smirked. "Revenge is a dish best served cold." As an afterthought, he added, "I'm not dark and brooding, but I guess I can add mysterious to my list of charms."

Lola and Jenna watched him as he turned around.

"Is it just me or did he suddenly get hot?"

Lola sighed loudly. "I think we've been tricked."

Jenna groaned, suddenly. "I can't believe it. Two men that hot -- and they end up with each other. Like, what the fuck? Why can't there be one for me?"

Lola laughed, but, as always, silently agreed.

Everybody lost their jobs when the pandemic hit, and when the Old Army finally went back into business, Mickey Milkovich wasn't there. The gossip moved on to different topics and different employees -- the hot security guard was nothing but a distant memory.

The next time Lola saw them was years later. She was much older, much more experienced, and much more in love. She had met somebody, had fallen deep, and it had changed her life for the better.

Love was an interesting thing.

Mickey was standing at the corner of a street. The sun was shining brightly above him, and Lola realized he still looked as beautiful as ever -- his face was much more relaxed though as if the walls he had spent years putting up were suddenly all down, letting his pearl shine through, and glint in the sun. He was waiting for somebody outside of a store, and somehow, Lola knew it was his husband.

She couldn't remember his name, but she could never forget the look.

So many years had passed, and Lola had gone through so many relationships -- but the look was what always had her looking for more, never settling for anything short of what she knew she could have. What they showed her she could have.

Once she found someone who looked at her the way Ian -- Lola would only remember his name sometime later in the day -- looked at Mickey, and somebody she would look at the way Mickey looked at Ian -- that was when she'd know she had found the one.

Ian exited the store, much to Lola's expectation, his red hair, slightly grown out, fiery red in the Sun. The boy holding his hand was smiling widely, and the smile only grew once he saw Mickey.

The boy dropped Ian's hand and ran towards -- Lola simply knew -- his father, jumping into his arms. Mickey picked the small boy up effortlessly -- he was no older than five -- laughing along with him as the boy dove into, what Lola presumed, a story.

Ian and Mickey shared a look, so akin to the one they had shared that day, years ago, in the store, filled with so much love, adoration and happiness before focusing their gazes on their child. It wasn't just between them anymore -- the love they had was now for the little boy as well, nurturing and taking care of him, allowing him to bask in it. They probably didn't even realize they were doing it.

Lola felt tears in her eyes.

She had once searched for the look.

Now, she hoped she would one day be able to share this look with her own husband and her own child.

Lola patted her swollen belly.

One day.

She watched as the two men and boy pulled away, still listening to the story the boy was telling. Lola pulled her phone out as she watched their retreating forms.

Lola opened the group chat, typing excitedly.

--- old army besties ---

LOLA (12:33 PM): You'll never guess who I just saw.

She was thankful for many things Mickey Milkovich showed her, but the one thing she was grateful for the most was that thanks to him, the gossip never ended.

#gallavich #ian and mickey #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #fanfic #based on a prompt #shameless #ian gallagher #ianxmickey #shameless us

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Young Hearts Divided (1/?)

Pairing: Sirius x reader / James x Female!Reader (this comes later- the tea)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.6k (she short~think of it as an introduction)

Part Summary: Y/N is a fellow Gryffindor Fifth Year with the Marauders. She has always been close with the boys, especially Sirius, but sometimes they can be bad influences...

A/N: as always, thank you for reading! If you guys have any suggestions or requests you’d like to see, let me know! I’m down for anything rn :)

Masterlist

Late! Late! Late! I’m late! I hurry down the steps of the tower into the Common Room. I suppose this is what I get for staying up late listening to muggle music with Marlene. How kind it would’ve been of her to wake me up too when she probably rose like a peaceful princess this morning. I at least would expect Lily to help a friend out! Nope, instead, I’m sprinting through the halls of Hogwarts with one shoe on, my hair disheveled, and my books hardly staying in my hands. I completely missed breakfast and now have to run straight to DADA across the bloody castle!

Professor Flitwick stops writing on the board and peers over his shoulder when I stumble into the room. My peers whip their heads back and stare at me like a fish in a bowl. Sirius and James are sitting right in front of me with childish grins across their faces. Sirius starts giggling and Remus leans across the aisle to swat him on the arm.

Professor Flitwick clasps his hands together with a deep exhale. “Miss Y/L/N, it’s on you to join us. Take your seat,” he instructs, gesturing to your empty seat next to Marlene toward the back of the room.

“Sorry Professor,” I mutter, swiftly sliding into my seat directly in front of Sirius.

As I pull out a roll of parchment and get settled, Marlene begins to bombard me with her questions. “Where have you been?!”

“Sleeping!” I snap in a whisper. “No thanks to you!”

“Dreaming about Bowie?” Marlene giggles, nudging me with her elbow. “Told you he’s stellar! We should listen to him again tonight!”

“And keep me up all night?” I snicker, looking ahead to scribble down Flitwick’s notes.

“You still haven’t heard this one group! My cousin sent me-”

Marlene is cut off as a crumpled piece of paper hits the back of my head. Knowing exactly who it’s from, I ignore the wrinkled ball on the floor by my ankle to catch up on my notes. Marlene picks up the paper, much to my annoyance. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her glance back at Sirius as she unravels the ball. I continue to listen to Flitwick, hoping he doesn’t write me up for being tardy.

“Want me to read it to you?” Marlene asks, all gushy with enthusiasm.

“Does what I say matter?” I sass in a grumble, knowing she’ll read it anyway.

“He wants you to meet him at the tree by the lake after class,” she informs as she scans the sheet.

“Can’t,” I answer plainly. “I have potions.”

Marlene sighs in disappointment, glancing back at Sirius with a frown. On my behalf, she writes down my answer and hands back the note. Turning back toward the front, she fiddles with her quill not even attempting to take notes. I, however, am writing like a lunatic struggling to make up for lost time.

“Oh come on Y/N,” Marlene whines quietly. Her silence lasted about ten seconds. She tugs on the sleeve of my shirt while glancing upfront every so often to make sure Flitwick isn’t looking. “You haven’t missed a day of class yet this term! Skipping one class won’t kill you!”

“You’re right,” I mumble, keeping my attention ahead. “But what if McGonagall sees us or literally anyone else? I can’t get written up again! I’ve been to detention twice now this year because of the Marauders. Friends don’t get friends in trouble.”

She huffs, dismissing my reason as not good enough. “You’re only young once Y/N! It could be fun!”

“Why don’t you meet him then?” You suggest sarcastically.

Suddenly, I feel another tap of a ball of parchment this time hitting my back. I take a deep breath to compose myself. If we anywhere else, even the library, I would probably smack the boy. Taking note of my frustration, Marlene cautiously reaches for the ball resting between the back of my chair and my back. She raffles the paper and skims the sheet.

“Do you want-”

“Ugh, just read it!” I bark under my breath, but loud enough for Lily and Alice to turn around in front of me. I mutter an apology and they face forward again. It takes every bit of me to ignore the stifling laughter of Sirius and James behind us.

Marlene clears her throat, making the duo quiet down. Then, she recites Sirius’s note. “We will not be seen. James gave me the cloak.”

I snicker, shaking my head at the words. “Ha, yeah okay! How does he plan on making Slughorn not mark me inexcusably absent?”

“He… um…” Marlene stutters. “Good point.” On that note, she scribbles down my answer and leans back to hand the paperback.

Sirius won’t have a valuable answer, thus will leave the matter alone. He will enjoy his free period doing who knows what with James while I go to potions. Shall I recall the two times I got put into detention because of Sirius Black? Okay, here it goes...

The first time was really for all of the Marauders. I suppose it’s my fault I’m friends with them. They were out late sneaking around with their stupid map to jot down a hidden tunnel Remus had discovered that day. I played watch and distracted Filch long enough for them to run into the Common Room. What that got me was detention from Filch. The boys felt remorseful and thankful that I didn’t throw them to the wolves, especially Remus and Peter. Sirius bought me chocolates and placed a rose on my bed every day for twelve days until I had a full bouquet.

The second time was after the Gryffindor v. Slytherin quidditch game a few weeks ago. There was a party in the Gryffindor Common Room after the win as per usual. Sirius was drunk and wanted to go for a swim in the lake. I had been rather intoxicated myself, but not enough to jump into a lake filled with all sorts of creatures! Alas, Sirius dragged me from Gryffindor tower and we snuck around the castle to get to the lake. Filch and some of the Prefects were on their rounds, so we had to hide around corners. Sirius would slowly turn the corners first, holding onto my hand to keep me close, just in case. Then, he would glance back at me with a mischievous smirk before booking it down the clear halls. Jump ahead half an hour and we get caught in the Black Lake in nothing other than our underwear by a very disappointed McGonagall, not one of my proudest moments.

I remember her words exactly. “Mr. Black, why must you pull Miss Y/L/N into your shenanigans? Two weeks’ detention, both of you! You’ll be cleaning classrooms until they’re spotless!”

The two longest weeks of my Hogwarts career. Well… at some points. Sirius had his moments when he made the hours slip by. There was the time we were cleaning Slughorn’s classroom and had a water fight. We got all of the textbooks wet that Slughorn left out on the desks. Sprout heard us from the hall and walked in on us dripping wet head to toe. Sirius was standing behind me, holding a now-empty bucket over my head. Her face was priceless!

“Y/N? Y/N!” Marlene pokes my side, snapping me out of my daydreaming. “I’ve been saying your name!” She huffs, holding a new note from Sirius. “What do you want to say?”

I frown, “what does it say?”

She rolls her eyes, “I just read it to you... I guess somebody wasn’t paying attention.”

I mumble an apology and look up at the chalkboard to see that Flitwick has jotted down at least ten more points. I check out for two minutes tops and he does all that?! Forget it, I’ll just copy Lily’s notes later. We all know she’ll have them perfect. James copies her every day during lunch anyway. I sit back in my seat with a sigh of defeat and contentment. I accept my defeat and call it a day. Looking over at Marlene, waiting for her to read me the note again. Impatient, I take the paper for myself and look over it.

Have Lily tell Slughorn you’re not feeling well. I have something I want to show you…”

Thinking it over for a moment, I consider the pros and cons. Cons: I could get caught and three strikes don’t look great on my transcripts. I want a career at the ministry, I can’t risk ruining that. Pros: it could be fun. Whenever I allow myself to have free time, Sirius and I have the best time. I mean, even in detention we had fun. He’s one of my best friends here. In fact, he was one of the first friends I made, after Marlene. Leaning forward in my chair, I pick up my quill and scribble down my answer. Marlene peaks over my shoulder, eager to see.

Okay.

Keeping a close eye on Flitwick to make sure he isn’t looking, I fold up the paper neatly in my lap. When the professor turns toward the board, I reach my arm behind me, handing the note back to Sirius. While I keep my attention, I feel Sirius’s warm hand glide over mine to take the folded parchment. It lingers there for a mere second, his fingertips grazing as far as my wrist unnecessarily. A faint, uncontrollable smile forms across my lips at the feeling of his touch. Marlene is right, we’re young, I should be living more. I think Sirius can help with that.

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hookingminor · 4 years

Text

three lessons - mat barzal

a/n: new series idea I just had, spoiler there is filth and the next parts will be as well also im not the best at writing smut so you’ll have to bear with me here. anyway! let me know what you think! comments/thoughts are always appreciated! also, I know it briefly mentions being the younger sister of a teammate, but I know nothing about the isles so its literally just for plot purposes don’t expect much from that and this isn’t proofread sorry

word count: 4.2k

summary: you’re tired of being a virgin, so you hit up Mat to help you with your problem and strike a deal

warnings (18+): loss of virginity, smut

PART TWO

This was by far the worst idea you’ve ever had.

In your twenty-one years of life, you’ve never had a worse idea. Your initial plan was crazy in and of itself, but adding Mat to the mix? It’s like you were asking to get your ass kicked.

The original thought came to you a year ago when you were sitting on the couch of your friend’s apartment, four glasses of wine into the night. She was complaining about her latest hookup, raging over the fact that he didn’t know where the clit was.

This is how it usually went between you two.

She was the one who got all the guys, the one who could pick up anyone from the bar and spend the night in a stranger’s bed without a second thought. You, however, were the wingwoman, the person who was left behind when your friend eventually decided to leave with a man.

It didn’t bother you that much. It’s not like you felt like you needed a boyfriend, you were secure in almost all aspects of your life, but the nagging thought in the back of your mind kept saying that you needed to get fucked. And soon.

Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your bloodstream or the fact that you hadn’t masturbated in nearly two weeks, but you rolled your eyes at your friend before you finally snapped.

“At least you’ve had someone to fuck the past few months! Be grateful you’re not me and still a virgin at twenty!” You shouted, fed up with hearing stories about how your friend’s sex life was so terrible. At least she had a sex life to begin with.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” you apologized quickly, bringing your hand to cover your mouth in shock, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, it’s just… it’s hard listening to you talk about this when I can’t contribute to the conversation.”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry for always talking about it,” your friend said, eyes softening when she heard how regretful you sounded, “How about we change the subject?”

She didn’t wait for your response before launching into a monologue about how classes were going and her upcoming finals. You tried listening to her, but your mind was still stuck on the previous topic. Of course it was unfortunate that you happened to be twenty and with no sexual experience, but it didn’t bother you before like it was bothering you right now.

Ideas began racing through your head of how you could rectify this, and that’s when the seed was planted.

Now, almost a year later, your carefully thought out plan was almost complete; though, ‘carefully’ could be more loosely translated to ‘reckless.’

You paced outside of Mat’s door, walking back and forth as you fiddled with your hands, working up the courage to knock. This was such a bad idea. You brought your hand up to the door, pausing before your fist made contact before bringing it back down and resuming your pacing.

After another five minutes of deep contemplation, you made your decision. You knocked on the door before you could second guess yourself, now bringing your hands to tug at the strands of your hair.

The few seconds it took for Mat to answer the door felt like a lifetime, and when he opened the door, you were met with a confused look.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked, peeking his head out of the door to glance down the hallway.

“Hi, I know you weren’t expecting me and you have to leave for practice soon, but I needed to talk to you about something,” you explained quickly.

Mat’s brows stayed furrowed in confusion, but he opened the door further to let you inside.

“Firstly, I just wanted to say that Anders doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d really appreciate it if you never mentioned it to him,” you said as he closed the door behind you.

Mat ushered you into his living room, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch as he crossed his arms and waited for you to continue.

“This is going to sound absolutely crazy and you’re probably going to reject me but just hear me out,” you said, taking a deep sigh. He was totally going to shut you down, but there was no turning back now.

“I wanted to ask you if you’d have sex with me. You’d be doing me a favor as my friend. I’m kind of… a virgin… and I really don’t want to be anymore,” you took a breath to watch his reaction which was unreadable, “You’re probably thinking it’s a terrible idea, being that I’m Anders’s sister and everything, but I promise I won’t say anything to him. I just want to get a little experience under my belt… it’s kind of embarrassing. Anyway, I just wanted to ask if you’d give me a few lessons or something.”

You raised your eyes to meet Mat’s as you finished your rant, worrying about what he was going to say. A long silence fell between you two as he processed what you said.

“Uh… I don’t really know what to say,” he started awkwardly, bringing his hand to rub at the back of his neck, “I’m honored, I guess? That you asked me to help, but I’m just a little confused since we don’t really know each other.”

Okay, you could give him that. It was true that you weren’t the closest of friends, but you’d met on a handful occasions. It’s not like you were complete strangers, but other than knowing what you were studying in school and that you were Anders’s much younger sister, he didn’t know much about you.

“That’s fair,” you said, “I asked you because, well, you’re obviously hot which I’m sure you know. Also, not knowing each other is what makes this perfect. I’m not attached to you in any way and vice versa. Honestly? You’re one of the few guys in town that I feel comfortable around, so it was either ask you or find a random Tinder hookup and have to do this speech all over again but ten times as awkward.”

Mat didn’t like the last part of that explanation: the whole ‘random Tinder hookup to take your virginity’ part. He may not have known you that well, but he knew you were a nice girl and deserved to be more than just a notch on the bedpost of someone who didn’t care about you.

“I know you’re probably thinking I’m insane, and I get it. I felt a little insane when I thought about this too. But I really feel like you’re the best option. I understand if you think it’s too weird, though,” you said when he hadn’t replied. Your eyes watched him as he sat still as a rock across from you.

“I… I have to leave for practice soon,” was the only thing he responded with.

You felt your heart drop at his statement. Of course he was going to say no, you were an idiot for even trying.

“Yeah, totally, I’ll get going,” you said quickly, gathering your stuff and making your way to the entrance.

When you reached the door, you turned back one last time to see him still in the same position.

“Can you not tell Anders, please? I know this was a crazy, stupid idea but… just don’t tell him, okay? He doesn’t need to know about my sex… well, lack of sex life,” you added before shutting the door behind you.

Mat had lost his mind.

Truly and honestly, he had lost his mind if he was even considering your proposition. Which he was. He was really considering your proposition, and he wanted to punch himself for it.

He couldn’t possibly agree to this, could he? You were the captain’s younger sister. Sure, you two weren’t the closest of siblings, but the code still applied. And the code clearly said he was not allowed to fraternize with relatives of his teammates in any way. He hadn’t broken this rule yet, and he couldn’t believe he was even thinking about breaking it now.

Inside his head, he weighed the pros and the cons of sleeping with you. Well, teaching you would be a better phrase. If Mat was being honest, he had blacked out after the terms ‘virgin’ and ‘have sex with me’ fell from your lips. He watched you from his spot on the couch, his eyes following your mouth but not processing the words you were saying. Truthfully, he ran over the conversation a million times in his head and he wasn’t sure he was actually processing them now.

You wanted him to take your virginity. You wanted him to give you experience. You called them lessons.

You were, quite literally, asking him to be your sex tutor.

When you left the apartment, he did what he did best. He compartmentalized. Instead of thinking about the awkward conversation he just had with you, he pushed all thoughts of you from his mind and went to practice. For a whole three hours he focused on hockey. He even had the courage to look at his captain despite the weird interaction he’d just had with his sister.

But then practice was over, and Mat was left with nothing to do but think about what you said. Thinking turned into contemplating, and contemplating eventually turned into pulling up your Instagram page.

Mat typed and retyped the message a million times, deleting it before he could accidentally pressed send. He went back and forth between wanting to say yes and throwing his phone as far away from him so he wouldn’t be tempted.

What could be the worst thing that happened? He thought.

A million bad things could happen. He knew this deep in his heart that it was, for all intents and purposes, the worst idea ever to teach his captain’s sister how to have sex, but his head and desire to get laid had other plans.

So, he picked up his phone one last time and composed the same message he’d written a hundred times.

to @yourusername: does your offer still stand? text me 212-203-3849

For the second time in a week, you were pacing outside of Mat’s apartment. You’d received his message almost six days ago, and now here you were.

Your chest nearly collapsed with relief when you’d seen he wanted to take you up on your offer. And then your stomach filled with butterflies, nerves wracking your body as you now had an official plan to lose your virginity.

You eagerly liked the message, dialing his number in your phone so you could hash out the details over text. He promised you two would go over some ground rules in person, saying it felt too weird to have a written contract or something over text. You agreed to his plans and set a date to go over to his apartment that following weekend.

Feeling more courageous than you did a week ago, you knocked on the door with confidence this time. If you were going to lose your virginity tonight, you weren’t going to look like a frightened kitten when you did.

Mat greeted you with a warm smile this time, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. Same as last time, he ushered you into his apartment and directed you towards his couch.

“Do you want anything to drink? I was about to open a bottle of wine,” Mat asked, already moving to the kitchen.

“Yeah, wine would be great. Thanks,” you replied, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

Mat tinkered around in the kitchen for a couple minutes before he joined you, handing you a glass of red. You took a long sip as he settled down, hoping the wine would work fast to calm your nerves.

“So, what did you want to discuss first?” He asked after a moment.

“Well, we should probably have some ground rules. I was thinking that since you’re the expert and all, you should decide how these lessons go. Oh, and I think that we should keep this to a three-time thing. Anything more than that will probably get more complicated,” you answered with ease. Not to say you had spent the past week thinking about what you were going to say, but you definitely did.

Mat nodded in agreement at your suggestions before adding his own.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Also, we can’t tell anyone about this because, you know, your brother and the team and all,” he said. You hummed in response, that much was a given. No one could know about this.

“So, where do we start? Should I take off my clothes or?” You asked.

“No,” he said with a chuckle, “We’re going to watch a movie.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. For now at least.”

You hadn’t known what you were expecting, but it was not a cuddle session on his couch. You imagined that maybe he would’ve just ripped your clothes off the minute you walked in to get down to business, but he was being way more casual than you were feeling. Which was probably a good thing because your heart was beating a thousand beats a minute, so at least one of you had this situation under control.

Mat had told you to dress comfortably as he didn’t plan on leaving the apartment, and he was dressed in a similar fashion as you: gray sweatpants with a dark blue t-shirt. You had thrown on a pair of leggings and a shirt from your college before leaving, making sure to wear at least a nice bralette and pair of panties underneath.

He drank down the rest of his wine before adjusting himself on the couch, moving into a position where he was laying down. Grabbing the blanket folded on the back cushion, he spread it out over his body before patting the spot in front of him. Normally, you would’ve been intimidated by a bold move like this, but the wide smile on his face indicated that he was perfectly comfortable right now, and his ease surrounded you in waves.

Slamming back the rest of your wine, you lay down in front of him, tucking your body against his while his arms pulled your chest closer.

“Anything specific you want to watch?” He asked, using his free hand to grab the remote. You muttered a quiet ‘no,’ allowing him to go ahead and choose. Mat scrolled through the Netflix options before settling on a new action movie.

“So, how much experience do you have exactly?” Mat asked once the introduction credits had finished. It was a good thing he wasn’t looking at you because your face heated up in embarrassment.

“I’ve only ever got as far as making out,” you muttered.

“No one’s ever touched you then?” He prodded.

“No,” you replied, your cheeks on fire. You couldn’t see him, but Mat nodded in response against the back of your head, letting out a quiet ‘okay.’

It wasn’t the first time Mat had been with a virgin, but that hadn’t been since high school and when he also wasn’t that experienced himself. Mat decided to let the movie play for a little bit longer before making his first move.

That time came when there was a particularly slow scene on. Slowly, he lifted up the hem of your t-shirt and slid his hand underneath, tracing small circles on the skin of your stomach. You clenched your thighs together as a warm feeling started to spread throughout your body.

It was happening.

Mat kept his hands there for a few minutes, inching up so slowly you almost couldn’t tell he’d moved at all. When the initial shock of his touch settled, you tried to refocus your attention to the movie.

Another ten minutes passed before Mat made his next move. Almost imperceptibly, he used his elbow to push his torso up before he brushed the hair covering your neck to the side. You felt his fingertips brush your ear, a shiver running up your spine. He brought his lips to your neck a split second later, placing a soft kiss against it.

Your eyes briefly shut for a second, reveling in the fact that Mat’s lips were on your neck. He kissed around your jaw a couple times before the hand on his stomach was shifting you to rest on your back. Your body followed his lead and your eyes met his hazel ones before he was leaning in to kiss your lips.

A heat unfurled in your body the second your lips connected and you eagerly moved yours against his. One of Mat’s hands had moved to the back of your neck to tilt your head at a better angle, the other hand moving further up under your shirt to rest just below your bra clasp. Your body involuntarily arched up into his hands as his tongue slipped out to part your lips. You opened your mouth and his tongue entered immediately, tangling with yours. You and Mat lay on the couch for a good while, making out heavily before you eventually had to break it for air.

“At least you don’t have to worry about kissing. You’re a natural,” Mat commended with an airy chuckle, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his compliment.

Mat’s smile brightened at your laugh before he leaned back in, the heat building in your body at double speed. You knew you were attracted to him, but you didn’t think he would be able to wind you up this fast. Or maybe it was just because you’ve never had a man touch you like this before.

Breaking the kiss, Mat began to trail more kisses down your body, pausing near your collarbone when he heard a particular breathy gasp leave your mouth. Mat continued his path over your shirt until he reached your belly button.

“Can I take this off?” He asked, looking up at you.

“You can take mine off if you take yours off,” you replied with a seductive smirk. Mat pulled back from your body, matching your smirk with one of his own as he tore off his shirt. Less than a second later, he was tugging at the hem of yours, urging you to sit up so he could take it off.

Mat’s hands were back on your body right after he tossed your shirt on the floor. This time, he retraced his path down your torso with his mouth and tongue, leaving no patch of skin untouched. His fingers danced around the edge of your leggings, teasing you until you were lifting up your hips into his face.

“Please take them off, Mat,” you said through gasps, wanting nothing more than to be rid of your clothing. He chuckled lightly against your waistband, his nose tickling your abdomen before he began shimmying off your leggings.

Tilting your hips up, you helped him slide the pants down your legs along with your underwear. Though your cheeks flamed up at the thought of being exposed before Mat, you felt oddly calm (well, as calm as you can be given the circumstances) with him.

“Holy shit, baby. You’re soaked,” Mat noted with a deep groan. He shuffled his body further down the couch into a comfortable position, lifting one leg to hook over his shoulder.

You breathed in shaky breaths as Mat placed gentle kisses on your thighs, working upwards slowly until he reached your core. And when he used his tongue to lick a strip across your pussy, your back arched into the air as you let out a loud moan.

“You gotta stay still, Y/N,” Mat chuckled darkly, wrapping one hand to steady your middle.

“Sorry, never done this before,” you replied in gasps.

Now immobilized, Mat resumed his place between your legs, repeating the same series of licks before he closed his lips around your clit. He flicked his tongue across the sensitive area. God, you would have done this a long time ago if you knew it would feel this good. You weren’t sure if it was too early to feel the heat inside you build up this quickly or if Mat was just too good at this. You hoped it was the latter.

His tongue lapped at your folds, and your hands flew down to grasp his hair in need. You didn’t think you could moan any louder, but then he brought his thumb to your clit to rub in tight circles as his tongue teased your entrance.

“Holy fuck,” you whined out, canting your hips up as much as you could. You could feel his smirk against your pussy at your exclamation, bringing his hand down to slowly enter a finger into you.

You let out a surprised gasp as you felt the first finger penetrate you. Mat kept his attention on your clit, lips sucking harshly at it. You let yourself get lost in the pleasure, focusing on how good he was making you feel.

After a few thrusts of one finger, giving you plenty of time to adjust, he added a second, feeling your walls tighten around them. He moved both fingers in and out of you, alternating the pressure between your entrance and clit. Just when he hit the right spot inside you, your hand tugged on his hair tightly, and he took the hint to curl his fingers against that spot.

“I’m so close, Mat,” you moaned, tossing your head back into the pillow.

“What do you need, baby?” He asked, pulling back for a quick breath. You glanced down to meet his gaze, taking in the way his chin glistened from your pussy. The view made you moan lowly, and his eyes darkened at the sound.

“Your tongue, please,” you begged quietly.

Mat heard the words leave your mouth and nestled his face back between your legs, tongue sliding up your slit in response. In rhythm with stroking your g-spot, he sucked at your clit, and it was mere seconds before your body coiled tightly inside. He kept the same pace and before long, you felt yourself crest the peak and then fall.

Mat removed his fingers slowly from your entrance, his tongue licking softly at your folds until he felt your breathing return to normal. It took you a few seconds to regain your sense of self, stars still whirling in the corners of your vision. When you finally felt yourself grounded on Earth again, you opened your eyes to see a self-satisfied smirk on Mat’s face.

“You’re so hot when you come,” he said when you met his gaze, and had you not been riding high on cloud nine when he said this, you might have blushed in embarrassment. But you weren’t embarrassed right now. The only thing you felt was giddy. Giddy because you were one step closer to your end goal.

And while you were blissed out, you dropped your gaze to notice the extremely visible bulge tenting in his sweatpants. Focused on a new task, you sat up quickly before leaning over Mat’s body so you could return the favor. Your lips crashed against his in a frenzy, your hands clumsily reaching down to grasp his length. However, you only got to feel it for a second before Mat’s hand was tugging it away.

“Not tonight, babe. Tonight was about you,” Mat said with a strained voice, breaking the kiss to look at you.

“What do you mean? We’re not having sex tonight?” You asked in confusion, your head still a little hazy from the orgasm.

“No, we’re not,” he laughed, noticing the wantonness in your voice, “You said I’m in charge, right? This was already a lot for one night, so we’ll put off the sex until next time.”

You nodded your head, though you weren’t really understanding. It made sense. Tonight was a very big step for you, and he didn’t want to give you too much at once. But despite that, your pussy was begging for a repeat performance and you were so far gone you were willing to do just about anything Mat would say.

“What about you, though?” You asked, glancing down to the noticeable tent.

“I’ll be fine, I promise. We still have two more lessons. There’s plenty of time for that later,” he replied, though the bulge between you seemed to say otherwise.

“Promise you’re okay?” You insisted.

“I swear, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle.

A comfortable silence fell between you after that, and you couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across your face. Your eyes sparkled with renewed purpose, and you felt satisfied for the first time in a long time. A smile of Mat’s own slowly appeared on his face as he watched you light up before him. Before you could stop yourself, you threw yourself into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.

“Thank you, Mat. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You said happily, punctuating each ‘thank you’ with a loud smacking kiss on his cheek.

When you pulled back to give him that award-winning smile again, Mat had one thought.

He was totally fucked.

#mat barzal #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #nhl smut #mat barzal imagine #my writing #isles13

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no-droids · 4 years

Text

The Sun on Both Sides

Summary: Cassian Andor is your very close companion. He says best friend, you say pain in your ass—neither one of you are entirely wrong. But then one night you smoke some unfamiliar spice with him, and everything you once thought you knew goes sideways.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cassian Andor/fem!Reader

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: SMUT, sex pollen (therefore DUB-CON by default), recreational drug use, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, dirty talk, oral sex (both male and female receiving), penetrative sex, me just making so much shit up honestly

A/N: All phrases in Festan are taken from other Star Wars conlangs. I don’t even know if that’s the name of the language people from Fest speak tbh. Probably not. None of this is real. Anyways this is Cassian as a young rebel pilot long before the events of Rogue One. This oneshot will likely be deemed obsolete by Cassian’s new Disney+ show but whoooooooops~

—knock knock knock knock knock—

You know that knock. It’s too quick, too rapid and annoying to be anyone else.

“I’m sleeping,” you huff with your mouth full, sitting on top of your mattress in a hoodie and sweatpants, legs crossed.

“I have gifts,” Cassian’s muffled voice asserts from the other side of the door.

“I don’t care,” you return, swallowing and shoveling more slop together with your tiny little biodegradable spork. “S’the middle of the night.”

—knock knock knock knock knock—

“Stop it.”

“Knock knock,” he beckons vocally, as if you didn’t hear it the first ten times. “Come, open the door. Please—I will get into trouble.”

It’s exhausting being Cassian’s friend. Truly exhausting. It doesn’t matter what Maker-forsaken time it is, as soon as he comes back to base from patrols, he’s at your door. You don’t know why he chose you as his sole victim to personally inflict this torture upon, but regardless of reason, he’s called you his close friend ever since you first offered to help the lanky, dark-haired six year old with his Basic and his best friend ever since your junior year of flight training. Apparently with the promotion came the lingering, severe misfortune of his present company, almost always.

“Can I put in for a transfer?” He also technically outranks you.

“Open the door and we will talk,” Cassian bargains. Bantha shit, you and him both know it. He’ll rip the papers in half before you can even finish filling them out.

You let out a dramatic groan just loud enough for him to hear, dragging yourself off the bed and padding over to the door. “If I accept your gift, will you leave?”

“Maybe.” No.

“If I accept your gift and trade it for the rest of this, uh,” you look at the MRE packet in your hands, “rice and shredded tauntaun meat in glockaw sauce, will you leave?”

“Maybe.” No.

“Good call, not as great as it sounds. What if I—”

He says your name impatiently, accented and sharp. You roll your eyes as his knuckles rap on the door once more. “Quickly, quickly—before someone sees.”

“It’s the residential quarters and it’s two in the fucking morning, Cass, nobody’s going t—”

He cuts you off once more. “Open the door and I will submit for your transfer work, yes?”

You throw your spork prong-down into the beige pouch in your hands and pop your hip, narrowing your eyebrows at the thick slab of metal separating the two of you skeptically. “No, you won’t.”

“No, I will not,” the voice behind it concedes immediately. “But for you, I will pretend.”

As soon as you the door slides open and disappears up into the ceiling with a quiet shhhft sound, his dark silhouette quickly slips past you and sneaks into your room, immediately bouncing his bony little butt down on top of your sizable but thin box-spring mattress without a word. You press the button to close the door behind him with a long, drawn out sigh, turning around and resting your back against the wall panel.

Cassian meets your tired, expectant gaze head-on and wide awake, perched on your bed and huddled around something hidden in his thick jacket. “First. You cannot tell anyone. Understand?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “Are we children, Cass?”

“Secondly.” He blinks up at you. Maker, his eyes are so… wide. Dark and warm and bright, framed with thick, long lashes. “If you do not want it, just say. Okay?”

Your expression suddenly narrows. This is new. It’s… still bantha shit, but it’s… new. New bantha shit.

“Because the word ‘no’ holds so much meaning for you,” you tilt your head to gesture at the door to your right, “clearly.”

“Come. Sit here,” he ignores you, patting the space next to him as if that isn’t your own fucking bed he’s inviting you to join him on. “We will look together.”

“I will literally murder you,” you tell him genuinely, though you push off the wall to move toward him all the same. “If that’s not a cute little mini-lothcat in your arms you got me for my birthday, Andor, I will literally murder you.”

“Today is your birthday?” He glances up at you in surprise just as you’re lowering yourself down onto the mattress next to him.

“Two weeks ago, but you were off-base.” You dig around inside the pouch for your handy little spork, not looking at him. “Quit avoiding the subject, my death threat still stands. Where’s my cat, asshole? Who do I have to tolerate in my bed this late at night to push that kind of paperwor—oof—”

The second you catch the hard little end piece of it between your fingers is the second he reaches around you and pulls you into a tight, one-armed hug. You fumble with the packet of food as you’re abruptly jerked forward, trying not to let it get squished it between you.

Stars, he smells good. His parka smells just like him, the fur lining its hood so warm and fluffy and soft as it tickles your nose. It’s still slightly damp from the wet sleet outside, but it smells so good. The smallest undercurrent of clove and spice hidden beneath the sharp, clean scent of fresh snow.

“Happy Year-Over, caraya,” Cassian says next to your ear, quiet and fond. “I know it is late, but I have your gift now.”

“‘Caraya’ better be Festan for ‘here’s your cute little lothcat, birthday girl’,” you warn him, moving to rest your chin on top of his padded shoulder and trying not to sound as breathless or affected by his sweet talking as you feel. He’s never called you that before. Caraya. What does it mean?

It’s… it’s bantha shit, you remind yourself, trying not to close your eyes or lean into his half-embrace. It’s all bantha shit.

“No,” Cassian acknowledges with a small head tilt, pulling his shoulder back but still keeping his long arm wrapped tight around you. “No. Not a… a cat, but…” He slowly opens his other hand between the two of you, finally showing you.

You blink down at the thing in his palm, cradled carefully in thick gloves from the sub-zero temperatures outside. It’s. No, he’s right, it’s not a cat. It’s a… a stick. Reddish-pink, ground up plant matter wrapped in a semi-transparent binding. Rolled up in a nice, even cylinder, a filter secured around one of its ends.

Spice. Hand-rolled. Expensive. Probably swiped off a supply raid, whether by Cassian himself or another rebel fighter he bought it off of. Ludicrous he got his hands on it, much less brought it on base. Here, to your fucking quarters.

“I was wrong,” you eventually say, taking the joint from his open palm and holding it up to examine its strange color in the dim light. “You don’t think we’re children. You think we’re teenagers.”

“I think we are adults,” he corrects, swiping the MRE from your other hand, “with a reason to celebrate.” He releases you and takes his arm back, sitting on your bed and digging two fingers around in your half-finished packet for your spork.

“You’re a bold pilot, Cass,” you tell him, studying the spice. You’ve never seen any strain even similar to this before. “It was one thing to do this during flight training, but now? What happens if we have a piss test tomorrow? Or, well—today, actually?”

“Different kind from before.” He doesn’t sound bothered by the thought, though his mouth is currently full of tauntaun and rice in glockaw sauce. “Only five hours high, not detectable after. Piss tests are expensive, the rebellion has no money.”

“X-wings are expensive, too,” you counter, turning to look at him. “You crash one of ‘em ‘cause you smoked this shit and your ass will be dead before you can even survive.”

“You hurt me.” He uses the utensil to dig around the bottom corners of the packet for more slop, not looking hurt in the least. “Also—you were right. This one is… horrible.”

“Not to mention I have a oh-nine-hundred call.” You both watch each other with matching looks of distaste as he continues to eat your food, clearly neither one of you enjoying it. “You’re giving me barely two hours to come down before I got orange jumpsuits crawling all over me.”

“You did not hear?” Cassian swallows. “Reassigned Dreis during debriefing. I will be leading red squadron tomorrow. Or, today.”

You blink at him. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” he shakes his head exactly once, throwing the spork into the empty packet and flattening it. “No, I would not do that to you.”

“Course not,” you agree diplomatically. “You’d just barge into my room at two in the morning, eat my food, offer me drugs, and then tell me I’ll be taking orders from you tomorrow.”

”Today,” he corrects. “But I could not get our call changed, and for that I am sorry.” He lifts an eyebrow at you, quirking the side of his mouth up and pushing the empty MRE pouch into your hands to throw away. “But only for that. Happy birthday?”

“We’re going to lose this war,” you tell him honestly, sliding off your mattress with a sigh to trash it. “We’re all going to die horribly, and painfully. The Rebellion is fucking doomed. You and I will be but a mere footnote in the Empire’s endless reign of terror, you realize. A footnote. Our names at the very, very bottom of the page, in tiny little six point font, and it’ll link to a one sentence obituary for the both of us. Died horribly and in pain. Did you bring a lighter?”

“Here,” Cassian shifts to one buttcheek and pulls an arc lighter from his back pocket, offering it to you when you come back. “Okay? You will start it then? Birthday girl.”

“You said five hours for one person, right? So that’s two and a half each if we split it,” you reason with a shrug, putting the filter to your lips and talking through the side of your mouth. “Two o’clock right now, nine-hundred call. At least four hours to come down, and thirty minutes to shower if we’re both lucky.”

“We will be fine.” He waves your careful calculations away with his hand as you flick the lighter. “Because we are lucky feetnotes, yes?”

***

You’re not fine.

It’s fucking boiling in here. Maker, you’re on fucking Hoth; why the fuck are you boiling? It’s never even been warm in your quarters before, much less this hot. You feel like you’re sweating buckets through your hoodie, your hair sticking to your neck in thin little curls.

And… and Cassian.

He’s sitting so unbelievably straight on the bed across from you, parka and gloves long abandoned on the floor. His dark eyes flick over to you occasionally, though it looks like he’s trying really hard not to move a single muscle other than that. His hands are clamped tightly between his thighs and he just… holds there. A compact, rigid statue perched upright on the mattress, looking far too still and tense to fit the comfort of his surroundings.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, blinking at how hoarse your voice comes out sounding. Holy fuck, your mouth feels like a desert.

Cassian stares at you, and for some reason, his large, expressive eyes seem even wider now. They’re glassy and a bit red, but also so big and lovely and framed with long, dark lashes.

“This is not.” His accent sounds thicker, words coming out deeper in his throat. It settles down inside you just right and you feel a spark of heat at the base of your spine. He blinks twice. “This is not how it usually feels.”

“Should we stop?” You look down at the half-finished joint in your hand, tilting your head thoughtfully as you consider the drug pulsing through your veins. “It’s… it’s different, but I think it feels good.”

“Yes—I…” He closes his eyes. “Th-that is the problem, I think.”

He shifts a bit on the mattress and bites down on his bottom lip, and you must look so fucking dumb as you stare at him with your jaw slack, watching his lithe body stretch and handle the spice. He’s fucking gorgeous. Stars, you always thought he was gorgeous, but this is something else. He flutters his eyes open to look at you through his lashes, and—

—oh. Oh. You see now. You see what he meant. Warmth pools deep down in your tummy as he looks at you with impossibly dark eyes, slowly drags his glassy gaze down your body. Fuck, you’re getting turned on. You go red and blink softly at him while he stares at you, trying to control your breathing.

“You need to—” your voice jumps, trying to remember the right cadence. How do you speak to him normally? “You can… take—take my pillow, if you want. Lay down. You’re too tall, your eyes are too big. Look like a… like a Kaminoan. Heal any—heal any clones recently?”

Bad joke. Maker, he’s so beautiful. Rich, dark features taking you in, blinking slowly at you and clearly not hearing a single word you said.

You shift your weight and throw him the cushion you’re partially sitting on without waiting for an answer. You both need to calm the fuck down. Hopefully the pillow will help. Even if it’s squished and warm from your butt. “It’s warm ‘cause I was sitting on it, m’sorry. Fuck, it’s warm in here. Do you think it’s warm in here?”

It’s like he still doesn’t hear you. Cassian just takes your flattened pillow in his lap and looks at it for way too long, slowly rubs the fabric on the corner between his fingers and examines it, like if he tries hard enough he’ll be able to see through it.

“Cass,” you eventually call his name in reminder. “Lay down, put that under your head—”

“Do you feel turned on?” He asks quite suddenly, whipping his head to the side to look at you. You almost drop the spice.

“No,” you say immediately, acting on impulse alone and trying to rearrange your face into something… something negative. Something just generally negative, because you can’t even think of a negative emotion specific enough with the way your heart is pounding at the thought of something like this actually happening right now. Holy fuck, you’re sweating. What the fuck is in this shit? “No, of course not.”

“Of course not,” he nods, turning back to look at your pillow. “Me too. Not.” He shakes his head. “Neither. Either?”

“Lay down,” you tell him once more, desperately needing something else to do now, something to distract yourself from the way your lower muscles are starting to cramp up with heat and arousal. “I’ll get us some water. We need water.”

You’re off the bed and setting the smoldering spice on the small metal counter without another word, grabbing two empty cups and beginning to fill them up in the tiny little sink with your back to him.

Stars, he was right. It’s not supposed to feel like this. It feels… it feels like everything is burning inside you, but such a good burn. Like your mind is being seduced by your own body right now instead of the other way around, and the paradoxical sensation is manifesting itself in an unprecedentedly strong urge to jump your best friend’s bones. The urge has always been there, granted, but it’s never been this shameless before. Never arced and pulsed so brilliantly in your veins before, never been steadily fed by such a tempting outside source. Not the drugs—but him. The tangible fuck-me vibes Cassian is radiating towards you right now, staring at your back with those big, gorgeous brown eyes of his, silent and unmoving behind you as he watches you from your bed. He’s never done anything to encourage your desire for him like this before. He’s never wanted anything more than just platonic companionship and playful banter in the midst of war zones from you, and yet you can feel the heat burning from him too, feel it start to intensify your own high.

It’s bantha shit, you have to realize. This whole Maker-forsaken situation—it’s forced; none of it’s real. Cassian is your best friend, and he’s only looking at you like this because spice is chemically altering his hormones right now. You can feel it doing the same to you, just steadily stirring deep in your floor muscles and amplifying your baser desires, but you need to snap yourself the fuck out of it and be the levelheaded one here. Despite the arousal burning hot in your tummy, at least you know your thoughts are still fundamentally sound—in contrast, you have no fucking clue what’s going on in that hard head of his right now. At least one of you needs to buck up, handle your drugs, and be the adult before things get out of hand. If it falls to you, then so be it.

You focus on your breathing and do as much as you can to mentally will the tingling sensation down deep. Taking a second to put a comfortable expression on, you finally turn around and start walking back to him.

When you raise your head and make eye contact with Cassian again though, the look in his eyes almost immediately threatens to undo everything you just decided. Fuck, he looks like he just had an internal pep talk of his own, but in the entirely wrong direction you went. He’s a bit more relaxed now, same as you, but his gaze is now searing hot on your body, tangible enough to stop you dead in your tracks in front of him. It burns through you, and you literally feel the sweat drip down your back as a shiver rolls down your spine.

No. Hold strong. Maker, irresponsibility has always been appealing but never so fucking seductive as this is, has it? Taking such a gorgeous fucking form. You take a few more steps forward, quickly trying to gather composure.

“Should we stop?” You ask him once more and stars, you were aiming for calmer and gentler and with more lung support—not this breathless scrape of a sound that feels like sandpaper in your throat. He hasn’t said a fucking word and your resolve is already wavering. You try not to make eye contact as you carefully hand him one of the cups. “We’re only twenty minutes in, barely halfway through it. We can stop and coast, it’s not a big deal.”

Cassian takes the water from your outstretched hand, letting the tips of his fingers brush lightly across yours in the process. Your heart skips in your chest. “Do you want to stop?”

You absolutely should fucking stop. Just standing here and handing him water without ripping your clothes off is a challenge; you’ve still got half a joint left and you’re not even sure you’ve reached the come-up yet. What if this is just the beginning? What if this is just laying the foundation? What happens when you actually peak on this shit?

“It’s not a big deal,” you repeat instead, keeping your answer as ambiguous as possible and taking a sip of the blessedly cold liquid. At least the water is responding correctly to the frigid environment on this horrible fucking planet. You feel ready to burn up. “Just wanna make sure you’re cool.”

Cassian flicks his eyes over to the joint still cherried and smoking on the metal counter behind you. “We can keep going.”

Your breathing picks up slightly. Does he know what he’s really asking right now? He has to have figured out what that spice does by now, right? But no, he’s so steadfast in the way he looks at you, blinking up at you confidently. Fuck, you should stop. You should stop.

You should… compromise?

“If we keep going, no more of this,” you tell him, gesturing to the way he still hasn’t moved or drank any of the water in his cup. “You need to. Chill out, alright. Act normal.”

Fuck, you’re normally so blunt and outspoken with him, so why is it that everything happening here is so fucking unsaid? Everything is transpiring right below the surface, a conversation taking place within another conversation. You’re telling him to cut the heart eyes, lay back on the bed and spend some rare quality time with his best friend. Regardless of the weird side effects, this spice is still giving you an incredibly strong body high. If he could just stop looking at you like that so you can stop rhythmically clenching and pulsing between your legs, you’d probably be incredibly relaxed right now.

“I will lay down,” he finally agrees, breaking eye contact with you and grabbing the pillow from his lap so he can throw it down next to him. “Go, get the rest of it.”

“Drink.” You stay rooted to your spot.

He gulps down the entire cup of water right in front of you, and something about how sassy and exaggerated it is makes you unwind just a bit and head back for the spice.

This is better, you think. Butting heads with your strong personalities is better than whatever mind games you two were playing before, more familiar and grounding. Cassian sets down his empty cup on the floor as you pick up the joint, and then you sit on the edge of the mattress across from him when you come back.

“So how were patrols?” You ask him, taking another hit of it and studying the strange color it burns as you hold the smoke in your lungs, almost a light pink.

“Not bad,” he says, scooting back to lay lengthwise across the back of the bed. His long legs stick off the end but he looks way more comfortable now, settling back into the pillow and watching you with a calmer, more easy-going look in his eyes.

“Where’d you get sent this time?” You have to lean forward quite a bit to hand him the spice.

“The Lothal Sector,” Cassian responds casually, taking it from you.

“Oh, fuck off,” you snap, already unamused before he’s even started to mess with you. “I will shoot down red leader tomorrow, Cass, don’t you dare fucking test m—”

“A local was trying to sell kittens to the pilots,” he goes on, completely ignoring you and relaxing back down into the mattress with the joint between his fingers. “They were very cute. But then I tell him no, because I did not know of anyone who could care for one.”

“That’s not fucking funny.” Cassian smiles slowly at you as you glare back at him very, very sternly. “This is a no lothcat joking zone, I’m sensitive about this.”

He keeps smiling even as he takes his hit, gentle and fond and lovely on his face, but his eyes eventually go softer and a bit melancholy on the exhale.

“I am sorry I missed your birthday, caraya,” he says to you truthfully, something sincere and tender in the way he looks at you. “But I will get you something better than a cat.”

“What does that mean?” You lean forward and grab the spice from him when he holds it out for you.

“No idea,” he admits during the careful exchange. “Maybe something with less claws and teeth, I think.”

“No,” you shake your head, settling back on your butt once more. “Caraya. What does that mean?”

Cassian quickly opens his mouth to reply, but then pauses and takes a second. As if he’s debating on what exactly he wants to tell you. You inhale from the spice held between your fingers and wait patiently for him. Probably something to do with birthdays, right? Since he only started calling you that after you told him he missed yours.

You end up waiting for his answer so long, you actually feel like you should take another hit. But when Cassian does eventually speak, it’s incredibly calculated and slow, like he’s actively trying to find the correct words to translate its exact meaning into Basic.

“Fest is part of a binary star system,” he finally tells you, breaking the silence. “It is… it is what my people call the times when… when one of the stars sets while the other is rising on the opposite horizon.”

You pause with the joint halfway to your mouth, staring dumbly at him.

“It is rare. I have seen it only twice. Each time, for less than a minute. It is very rare for them to match up perfectly, but when they do.” His eyes go a bit softer, losing himself in his memories instead of concentrating so much on the words. “The sky shines with every color. Reds, yellows, and pinks to the west; blues, indigos, and violets to the east. It is… it is also… something we call the ones close to us,” he continues, blinking his gaze slowly back to you. “Caraya na cotâ vi zas iz’búsdari. To care and be cared for is to feel the sun on both sides.”

You… you just keep staring at him. Blank, unmoving, not really even breathing. Your chest suddenly feels incredibly tight. He looks back at you and stars, he looks so fucking gorgeous; long lashes dusting over his cheekbones at this angle, one hand resting lazily over his abdomen as he relaxes on your bed.

“It sounds…” You sound winded. “Lovely.”

“Yes,” Cassian returns softly, tilting his head on your pillow and blinking at you. “It is.”

You don’t know why the fuck you thought this would be okay, honestly. This whole thing was such a horrendous fucking idea right from the start. You’re surprised you haven’t set the both of you on fire by dropping the lit spice between your fingers. You were a fucking idiot to think you could resist him. You were overconfident, underestimating him the way you did. It’s like… like he’s approaching this in surges, almost. Lulling you into a false sense of security for a bit, and then carefully pushes forward, toeing the line between best friend and person he wants to fuck and seeing how much you’ll let him get away with.

You’re… you’re a weak, spineless little thing.

“Is it—is it your turn?” You eventually ask him, looking down at the joint in your hands. It’s barely above a whisper and it’s vaguely squeaky and it’s probably one of the dumbest fucking things you’ve ever asked in your life. Of course it’s his turn, who the fuck else’s turn would it be?

Cassian would normally rip into you for being such an idiot, but he doesn’t. He just blinks softly at you, pupils dilated and glassy as they take you in.

“Would you like to…” He sounds equally breathless now, swallowing thickly before he speaks again. “You can… come closer, if you want. Here. With me.” He pats his belly. “No more reaching.”

What is… what is happening right now? Is Cassian Andor actually, like—for real making a move on you? His best friend? The one he’s never looked twice at?

“You want me to…?” Your cunt clenches. Stars, you’re so wet already. You can feel it, dampening your underwear as his eyes flutter slightly at the rasp in your voice.

“Come,” he pats his stomach once more. “Lay down with me.”

You slowly begin to shuffle over to him on shaky knees, trying to move normally as he watches you. He stretches out across the back of the bed, giving you a perfect spot along his open torso to relax into. Your heart pounds as you carefully hand the spice to him before settling yourself on your back with your head on his tummy, making a little perpendicular t-shape with him on the mattress, vision slightly blurry but pulsing at the same time.

Maker, he smells so fucking good. He smells like fresh snow and something warm at the same time, so lean and long above you. You’re almost panting now, burning up in your thick layers as you try to get comfortable.

“Maker, it’s so fucking hot in here,” you whisper, using your sleeve to wipe the sweat gathering at your temples. “Fuck.”

“Take off your shirt,” Cassian suggests quietly, and your mouth instantly goes bone dry, your chest forgetting to rise again after it collapses with a quick whoosh of breath. “You have something on underneath, yes?” He adds quickly before you can completely ignite in flames. “Take off the top one.”

You… you have a thin undershirt on, but nothing underneath that. It’s nearing three in the morning, of course you don’t have a bra on right now. And the undershirt is white, and you’re sweating buckets, which means—

“It… it might show some…” You have no clue how to phrase this, but Cassian quickly responds.

“It is just me,” he reassures, carefully reaching his arm around your head to hold the joint up to your lips for you. You inhale the drug deeply, watching the pink light illuminate the tips of his fingers. “We are best friends, and this is your room. You should relax.”

Maker, this is… this is dangerous. He’s dangerous. He’s smart, choosing to go at it from this angle. He’s not toeing the line anymore, he’s just… blurring it until it doesn’t exist anymore. Or better yet, just walking over it and pretending it doesn’t exist at all. Pretending nothing at all is happening between you right now. Trying to see whether you’ll be more willing to give in if he comes at you from the side like this, not necessarily catching you off guard but refusing to outright confront you about it either.

Apparently precedent rules. You’re a weak, spineless little thing, especially when presented with such a compelling out. He’s… he’s totally right. You are best friends, this is your room, and you should relax. Nothing sexual about it at all, right? Furthermore, relaxing trumps overheating any fucking day of the week, so… so that’s why you tell yourself it’s okay to sit up and immediately reach behind your head, grabbing the hoodie and beginning to pull the thick fabric off.

Only, it’s damp and clings to your thin undershirt, dragging both of them up the length of your back as it goes. You stop when the lower hem pulls up just below your breasts, trying to reach back behind your head even further and separate the two materials but struggling with the angle.

“Cass,” you eventually prompt, trying not to flush. Not like he’d be able to tell, though; you’ve been unbearably warm and fidgety this entire time, your embarrassment conceals itself without your assistance. “You wanna help me? Or you just wanna keep watching?”

“Do not ask me such stupid questions,” he tells you plainly, unmoving. “What did I say? We are best friends. Of course I am not going to help you. You are…” he trails off when you lift your shoulders upright just a bit to see if the angle will work better that way. It does, but the fabric drags further up your ribcage from the shift, “…You are nice to watch.”

Your heart pounds, and you’re even clumsier knowing he’s staring at your exposed tummy right now. Maker, this should not be as difficult as it is. You swing your arms back around behind you, arching outwards and trying to separate them from the bottom this time, but gravity doesn’t appear to work in your favor.

Maybe you can do like, some sort of weird, half-and-half thing to get them apart? Maybe? Where you hold the undershirt from the bottom with one hand and pull the hoodie from the top with the other?

Yes, okay—that could possibly work. Cassian inhales more spice as he lazes behind you, getting a front row seat to watch this subsequent genius unfold.

You get into your monkey-like position, beginning to pry the two materials apart from behind like you planned. But then—oh, your undershirt still sticks to your hoodie at the front, pulling up a few inches with it and flashing the lower curve of your breasts to the room before you immediately halt and switch tactics, reaching back down and trying to pull them apart from the front withou—

A large, warm palm comes up to settle on your bare spine, right in the middle of your shoulder blades.

You freeze. But Cassian doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything more than that. He just holds his hand there, steady and solid against your upper back.

Neither one of you move. It’s like… it’s like you’re both trying so hard to get a read on each other that your reactions are equally stunted. Is he doing this to bring you to a still so he can help you? Is he simply as blazed as you are right now and not thinking about things before he does them? Is he—

But then Cassian starts slowly dragging his hand down your spine, carefully riding the gentle curve of it downwards as your breathing subtly picks up. Your arms are halfway caught in the fabric, not able to stop him unless you untangle them and reach behind you. So you just hold there statuesquely as his palm inches down the sweat-slick muscles of your lower back, thumb just barely brushing the hemline of your sweatpants.

Fuck, you feel like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin. Heat pools deep in your tummy, spidering outwards and sending pulsing shocks down your legs when he keeps his hand there for just a second.

Until… until he traces all the way back up and carefully hooks a finger around your undershirt.

Your heart pounds as Cassian gradually pulls it over the top of your head with your hoodie, guiding you to bring both of them around your arms. He pushes against your shoulder wordlessly, urging you to lie back down with your head on his stomach once more, the fabric stretched tight over your upper-body and the entire length of your spine now fully exposed as it touches the mattress.

“C-Cassian,” you breathe, fluttering your eyes up at the ceiling.

“Yes, caraya?” He murmurs, and you completely forget what you’re going to say when he continues to pull the hoodie and undershirt down over your arms, exposing your naked breasts to the open air.

Your cunt pulses between your legs and you hear him throw the thick bulk of fabric carelessly on the floor. “I—I-I don’t—”

“You will stay like this?” Cassian tells you softly, brushing your damp hair back from your shoulder so that your bare chest is completely unobstructed as it faces the ceiling. Your nipples are hard, a thin sheen of sweat covering your entire body, and you can feel his gaze drag down your naked skin, even if he doesn’t actually touch you. No, he just takes another slow drag from the spice in his hand and tilts his head back to rest on your pillow, relaxing into the mattress with a gentle shuffle of his shoulder blades. “If you are too warm, you will stay like this, okay? Be comfortable.”

Is it possible to die from arousal? Your clit is fucking pounding; everything from the waist down is unbearably tight and cramped. Stars, you feel like you’ll cum if you even move wrong right now. He told you to be comfortable, but you’re not—you’re boiling from the sensation, topless on your bed, trying not to close your eyes or squeeze your legs together. It’s too fucking casual and unacknowledged, how he’s going about this. You feel like you’re going to explode.

Cassian gently taps your bare shoulder to get your attention and shifts his head slightly to look down at you. You bite your bottom lip and flutter your gaze sideways to meet his after a second, hoping you don’t look as flushed and tight with burning arousal as you feel. Deep brown eyes look back at you, hazy and dilated. He takes a second to slowly drag his gaze down the length of your half-naked body once more, now that he knows you’re watching him. Your breath comes audibly now, quicker and shallower than it should be after laying flat on a bed for this long.

“Here,” Cassian prompts, holding the smoldering joint out for you to take. His voice sounds raspier now, but still so… casual. Like he’s out here talking about the weather with a mildly sore throat, not because your tits are out while you stare at each other and neither one of you is saying a damn thing about it. It’s like he’s determined to hold onto the splitting tension, drag it out between you as long as he can. “Want more?”

You know what he’s really asking, and it cramps your lower muscles up even harder. He’s asking if you want more of this spice that’s currently getting you naked in front of him. More of this madness, twisting up your insides with need and jumbling your thoughts. More of him treating you like this, like there’s not a damn thing out of place in the universe right now, like you’re still just best friends so that’s why it’s okay you’re both doing this together.

Stars, do you want more? Do you want him to keep winding you up like this? More of this torture, this agonizing foreplay, wondering when he’ll finally give in and touch you? Pretending like this is still completely platonic, like what’s happening here isn’t wildly unprecedented, insanely inappropriate, and so fucking hot?

You can feel your eyebrows pull up in the middle as you look at him, almost pleading with him to… something. To stop, maybe? Stop altogether, or just stop… fuck, stop ignoring the way your cunt feels clamped around itself tighter than a vice between your legs? Stop neglecting your burning desire for him, even when it’s right in front of his face. Stop refusing to acknowledge the way you’re just letting him look at you right now, how you haven’t once stopped playing along with this fever dream just in case you aren’t imagining it? Fuck, but Cassian just looks back at you, his expression completely blank except for the smallest little glimmer in his eyes. A silent, heated glint as he just barely quirks an eyebrow at you.

So you make the decision all at once. You carefully reach over for the spice with your far hand, feeling your breasts shift towards him slightly with the slow movement. Cassian doesn’t even feel like he’s breathing as you gently take it from him. He just stares down at your naked chest and swallows thickly, eyelids dipping slightly as he moves to meet you halfway.

You let your nipple brush up against his knuckles just slightly with the exchange.

When you face back towards the ceiling again and readjust your shoulders flat on the bed, he lets out a slow, shaky breath under your head as it rests on his tummy. The tension rockets up to eleven, weighing heavy and unspoken and ready to snap.

But then like that, the moment passes—it’s just another invisible spark igniting between the two of you, just another thing buried beneath the silence and yet ringing so unbelievably loud because of it. You’re both emitting and absorbing the same buzzing energy, amplifying it back to one another in a slow, endless feedback loop of rising pressure.

The spice comes up to your lips, and Cassian’s fingertips carefully trail along your other arm as it rests by your side.

“This is better, no?” He asks you quietly, the rough tips of his fingers just barely gliding across your skin in small, mindless patterns. They dance down your skin like feathers, tracing a small arch over the ridge of your elbow so lightly you almost feel like you might be imagining it. Your eyes flutter when he gradually skims down the length of your forearm and brushes his thumb in a smooth circle around the bone in your wrist. “Or you are still too warm?”

You bite your bottom lip when one of his fingers carefully stretches all the way up to your hip, running along the hem of your sweatpants.

“Yeah, m’still a little—” you gasp, trying not to stutter when Cassian starts to draw up the length of your waistline, pausing right when his fingers reach your drawstrings. “Little w-warm,” you finish hoarsely, painfully aware of how fucking wet you are, how your nipples are peaked and glistening with sweat as they move with your soft, shallow breathing.

He slowly dips one finger below the elastic wrapping across your hips, dragging it back and forth under the damp waistband.

“This fabric is heavy,” Cassian remarks, just the slightest husk in his voice. “You… you will take this off, too?”

“I-I don’t—” You’re about to say have anything on underneath except you immediately go quiet, because he’s suddenly slithering his entire hand down into your sweatpants and brushing his knuckles along the gentle slope of you.

He pauses once more when his longest finger reaches the very top of your slit.

But then he just holds it there for a second, tracing small arches back and forth along gentle give of it, the slight dip that separates your soft curls from your soaking heat. You tighten up and wait in breathless anticipation for it, before the tip of Cassian’s finger finally comes to a rest over the soft split of flesh.

And then he’s suddenly pushing in, and down—

—fuckfuckfuckfuck—don’tcumdon’tcum—don’t—

You make a soft, vulnerable sound in bliss as he slowly slides his finger through the hot, slick cleft of your pussy.

“You are warm down here, too,” Cassian murmurs quietly. Your eyes roll back when he drags the entire length of it up against your clit, letting you feel each individual ridge and joint and crevice across the swollen bit of flesh. “Is it the spice?” He asks, sinking his finger back down into you once more. “Or are you always this wet between your legs?”

Neither. Both, maybe? Mostly it’s just him. Cassian, whispering softly to you through the hazy darkness, lazily dipping his fingers into your cunt and letting it drench and engulf his skin in its heat.

“Tell me,” he prompts when you don’t say a word. His finger pulls up and begins tracing slow, gentle circles around your clit.

“No,” you breathe haggardly, arching your hips up just slightly as he touches you. “N-No, this is…”

“This is different,” Cassian confirms when you don’t finish your sentence. He keeps circling your clit, and it’s like he’s just casually, carelessly stirring a pot that’s about to boil over and set everything on fucking fire. You pulse threateningly under the tip of his finger, swollen and tight and just trying your best to control your breathing. “So it is the spice. Why you are this hot, this… this soaking.”

“It’s…” Don’t you say it. Don’t you fucking say it. Don’t you turn this into something it isn’t. “Yeah. It’s—it’s the sp-spice.”

His finger follows the hard curve of you down to where you give, where you’re leaking wetness and heat from the source, before he’s suddenly shifting his wrist and pushing the entire thing into you down to his knuckle.

Now you do arch your hips, spreading your legs and helping him go deeper even as Cassian hums, stretching his finger and feeling you clench hot and tight around him. He says something softly, something in a language you don’t understand.

And then he’s pulling out and rubbing circles around your clit again, the tip of his finger steady and firm as he steadily drags the pleasure out of you.

“We need to finish it soon,” he eventually reminds you, and it takes a remarkable delay for you to realize he’s talking about the lingering quarter of the joint still clenched tightly between your fingers. “Take your hit. We have a nine-hundred call, remember.”

Fuck, you bring the spice up to your lips with a shaky hand, trying to remember whether you should inhale or exhale first. Cassian’s finger just keeps circling your clit, winding you up tighter and tighter. His motions are so repetitive and predictable, but they’re somehow still lighting you on fire from the inside, slowing you down spectacularly as you try to take a steady breath in through the filter.

“Stars, you are so wet,” he remarks after a moment. “Are you going to cum soon? You feel like you are so close already.”

You are close. Everything is swollen and slippery and tight, and hearing him say it out loud like that makes the pleasure rocket up even tighter inside you. You don’t even feel him reach around with his other hand and take the spice from you. You just lose yourself in the mindless sensation of Cassian’s finger on your clit, rolling your eyes back and reaching your hands down to fisting the sheets at your sides as he touches you.

“Does this feel good, caraya?” He whispers quietly to you, inhaling deeply from the spice. “You are usually so… mouthy with me. Is this helping? Do I need to rub your clit like this more often?”

“Fuck—Cassian, I’m gonna cum,” you tell the ceiling raggedly, chest beginning to arch up and hips bearing down.

“Do it,” he murmurs, reaching his thumb through your slick lips to pinch and roll the pulsing bud between his fingers. “Right here. All you can.”

And then wild, painful bliss stabs through you, launching you headfirst into a blinding orgasm. A desperate sound tears from your throat as you cum hard all over your best friend’s hand, agonizing pleasure shredding mindless rapture through your veins. It rings white noise through your ears and rips you apart from the inside out, arcing lightning down your spine more bright and explosive than ever before. Fuck, it’s unprecedentedly powerful. You’re drenched but your clit is hard and pulsing and swollen, and he’s able to keep it between his fingers the entire time your hips writhe desperately on the mattress.

Cassian inhales from the spice once more and massages your clit through the torturous, blazing hot aftershocks. He drags the pleasure out of you until you’re a trembling mess, exhausted from the spasms wreaking havoc on your body.

But then… but then you’re still so hot. It’s like your limbs have no energy left but your cunt is still pulsing and wanting more from him. You feel your wetness coating his hand, your inner thighs, probably soaking through your sweatpants, but fuck, you want him to keep touching you like this—you want him to keep doing this.

It’s the spice, something tells you in the very back of your mind. It almost made you black out with a wild orgasm and now it’s quickly preparing your overheated body for another one. Your feet come up to brace against the mattress and your eyes close, jaw going slack as you grind feverishly against Cassian’s hand.

“Again?” He whispers to you, fingers continuing to pinch and roll your clit and then—and then another debilitating wave of euphoria is suddenly slamming through you, pulling your chest up and flooding his hand with another series of wet, powerful contractions. Cassian rasps something in his native tongue and rides you through the second one just as steady as the first, your pussy spasming uncontrollably as he slowly wrings the pleasure from you.

Fuck, it feels so good. You’re worked up and trembling and trying not to whimper for him, desperately wanting him to keep his hand right here forever, buried right between your legs like this. But you also—you also want Cassian to feel it too, feel the way the unrestrained hedonism practically burns you alive when you cum.

So you carefully turn over on your side and shuffle forwards a bit, resting your head on his lower stomach, right in front of the mouthwatering bulge in his trousers. His fingers can’t fully reach your cunt from this angle, but Cassian is resilient. He just drags his hand over your hip and slithers his fingers into your pussy from behind while you start unbuckling his pants with shaky fingers.

He’s unbelievably hard and throbbing and leaking when you pull his cock out of his underwear, the pulsing urgency of his erection not lining up with the way he’s still relaxing on your mattress, still hasn’t moved under you. So you just hold his length up to your lips and open them, slowly sliding your tongue around the tip of him three times before taking his curved head into the hot cavern of your mouth.

Cassian takes a deep, shaky breath as you suck softly on the head of his cock, fluttering your tongue along a bead of precum he leaks from the slit. He drags his fingers through your drenched pussy lips from behind as you carefully move your head down his tummy, opening your jaw wider and letting him fill your mouth deeper.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and you hum softly and lift your back palate slightly, sliding your tongue drift down his shaft and taking him a bit deeper still. He shudders under you and pushes the tip of his finger up against your clit.

And then you shudder because Cassian completely bypasses your hood at this angle, bumping into the swollen bit of flesh without any resistance or protection and just… holding it there. Barely moving an inch while you begin to slowly bob up and down just slightly around his cock, just keeping his fingertip right up against your clit and sparking heat down through your legs.

You move your hand down to cup his balls and start to roll your hips against his fingers. Cassian’s breathing stutters as you lazily suck his cock, rubbing a tight little circle on your clit in silent encouragement.

“We should—” his voice is hoarse now, now that you’ve got his dick in your mouth and you’re gently swirling your tongue around it, almost as unhurried and casual about the act as he was bringing you to your first orgasm. “We should do this. More.”

You slowly pull off him, kissing the tip of his cock and mouthing at the way he’s steadily releasing thick drops of precum for you. Cassian’s finger rolls firmly against your clit in response.

“You just want your dick sucked every time you come back to base,” you counter breathlessly, brushing your lips against him while talking with his cockhead resting on the edge of your tongue.

His hand shifts, and then he’s suddenly pushing two thick fingers deep inside you. You moan around his tip and prop one leg up on the mattress so he can fill you easier, going back to sucking and swiping your tongue over his frenulum.

“I would not mind it,” he admits with a shaky exhale. “You are. Very g-good. Fuck. And wa—” he gasps, feeling you clench tight around his fingers, “—warm. Fuck, every… everywhere.”

Fuck, it feels so good like this. Laying here, topless and being penetrated two different ways by Cassian, feeling him throb in your mouth while you rest your head on his tummy, feeling him stretch your cunt walls with his fingers while you hold your legs open for him.

You pull off him to drag your slick tongue over your palm, coating your fingers in saliva. Cassian groans when you wrap your hand around the thick base of him, and then he lifts his hips slightly as you start to slowly jerk him off into you mouth.

“Fuck—caraya, if you keep doing that, I will—” he whispers after a moment, curling his fingers inside you in warning. You just tighten your grip and add just the slightest twist to your wrist and “Wait—wait—” Cassian grunts, starting to pull his fingers out of you—

You pull off him just enough to murmur the words against his throbbing head. “You’ll want more than one, okay. Trust me. Cum like this, okay? Cum just like this, right in my mouth.”

You wrap your lips around his cock once more and keep jerking him off slow and tight into the heat of your mouth, and Cassian’s abdominal muscles go incredibly tense under your head. And then you squeeeeze your lower muscles around his fingers, and all the tension suddenly snaps.

His cock goes rock hard on your tongue and starts pulsing steadily as he groans out your name like it hurts, fingers stuffed deep in your cunt. You swallow around him and moan, clenching rhymically around his fingers and letting him slowly empty himself into your mouth. Fuck, he takes forever with it, shuddering and gasping and pumping cum down your throat, his orgasm clearly as powerful as yours was. The spice drags it out, makes you both lose yourself in the raw heaven of release for far longer than normal.

The spice also prevents him from softening when Cassian finally stops spurting hot cum in your mouth. You suspected as much—which is why you keep sucking his cock even as he stops throbbing, you keep him in your hot mouth even when he’s laying trembling and exhausted under you. And he still stays rock solid on your tongue, swollen and needing more.

Cassian’s voice sounds shredded when he finally speaks. “I—I am going to crash my x-wing tomorrow,” he tells you hoarsely, fingers finally slipping out of your channel with a vulgar, slick sound. “You were right.”

You pull off him and kiss the tip of his cock one final time, making sure you’ve cleaned up the mess completely. “Today.”

“Fuck. Today,” he acknowledges tightly, adjusting his hips when you lift your head off his stomach. “Fuck. In a few hours. You will make me crash, just thinking about this.”

“Why is it,” you turn around and blink at him, “that after literal decades of my friendship, you only acknowledge my perpetual rightness after I make you cum for the first time?”

Cassian just smiles softly at you, and his fingers are drenched as they rest lazily against your thigh. “Caraya. Two suns. Twice the illumination, no?”

You bite your lip and try not to smile back at him, wanting to blush and roll your eyes in equal parts. Stars, why is he so… so lovely? Speaking to you so sweetly, looking back up at you from your pillow like you’re every single color in his sky. Your heart seizes in your chest, staring at him with the same kind of fondness and admiration his beautiful eyes are shining with. Fuck, you want… you want to…

“Can we… can we have sex now?” You whisper. Not really shy, but… but it almost sounds shy in its quiet, breathless hope.

“You do not want me to taste you?” Cassian immediately asks, reaching out with one hand to offer you what’s left of the spice while the other stays firmly wedged between your legs. “I want to. I have…”

You bite down on your bottom lip and take the nearly finished joint from him, feeling his fingers curl against your pussy lips at the same time and knowing you’re going to regret letting him finish his sentence. He swallows thickly.

“I have thought about it,” Cassian eventually tells you, carefully admitting the words like he never expected he’d ever say them aloud and is completely unprepared. “Sometimes. Sometimes when… when I am about to sleep. I think of… of you. What you taste like. Right here.” He barely slips the tip of his finger back between your folds, fluttering his eyelashes at the way you’re still dripping in his hand. “I bet you are so sweet. Will you let me find out?”

Except. Except you’re suddenly blanking.

He’s… he’s thought about you before? Like this? Fuck, he isn’t just… just saying that, right? Just telling you what you want to hear? Because fuck, it’s almost too good to be true; like everything out of his mouth since you first put his cock in yours has somehow sounded even better than the last. You feel like you’re dreaming, and it. It makes you almost frantic with need, overcome with the desire to solidify your connection with him before it can be ripped away like it always is.

You don’t respond to him. You just quickly wiggle out of your sweatpants and get on top of him, swinging one of your legs around Cassian’s hips. The spice is held in one hand while the other reaches down and aligns his cock right up against your opening.

Cassian grabs your thighs tightly and takes a long, shuddery breath under you. Fuck, he really is a dream, isn’t he? Long and lithe and beautiful, still throbbing and pulsing and ready for you after you already swallowed his first load. You straighten your back and slowly sit down on his cock, letting the thick, hard length of it break you open slowly.

His hands trace up to your hips and then slide along the gentle curves of your sides, measuring the size of your ribcage before eventually grasping both of your tits in his palms. You breathe through the pleasure and the stretch, letting Cassian pinch and roll your nipples between his fingers as you gradually slide down him and come to a rest flush against his pelvis.

Fuck he feels spectacular. You can feel him pulsing inside of you, fitting and stretching the contours of your slick cunt perfectly. You shiver and clench around him, finishing off the last hit of spice as you roll your hips slightly to adjust to the tight fit of his cock.

You twist your shoulders to carefully toss the smoldering roach into the sink when it’s done, really taking your time with aiming it to make sure you don’t miss. The second it lands in the metal basin is the second Cassian grinds his hips up into yours while giving both of your nipples a gentle tug, and a jolt of pleasure rocks its way down your spine.

“Im-impatient,” you whisper, trying to scold him but it comes out sounding all wrong, far more needy and breathy than you wanted.

“I wanted my tongue in your pussy,” he whispers back in reminder, squeezing your tits as you start to circle and grind against him, letting you both enjoy the sensation of each other without any solid aim at the moment. “You could not wait.”

“Later,” you gasp, tipping your head back and just—fuck, just enjoying his cock. Enjoying how it feels, pressing up deliciously tight against something inside you that just absolutely loves the pressure. You scoot yourself back just a bit, just so he is really shoved up hard against that spot as you grind and roll your body. It ignites sparks deep in your floor muscles, makes you clamp tighter around him as you slowly ride your best friend’s cock.

And stars, Cassian just watches you. He drags his hands over your naked body as it swells and rocks back over his hips like waves in the ocean. He’s still completely clothed, and while something inside you wants you to get him as naked as your are, rub your exposed skin against his and make sure he never forgets how you feel against him, most of you is just fucking burning at the eroticism of being so bare and tall above him while he looks at you.

“Later,” he eventually repeats after you, definitively confirming what you said. Cassian’s voice is somehow soft and rough at the same time, quiet but tight and hoarse in his throat. “I will taste you later.”

You jerk a nod in agreement, starting to gain just a little bit of a rhythm on top of him. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean your weight back slightly and begin to pull up when your hips twist in towards him, and then sinking back down on his cock when your hips circle back around again.

“Fuck,” you hear Cassian grit as you keep doing that, relaxing your lower muscles as he’s thrusted into you and then clamping down on his length as it’s slowly dragged out. “Fuck, you are—a-amazing, caraya. You are. You are—fuck—”

A sinful heat starts simmering deep inside you as Cassian cuts himself off with a gasp and squeezes his eyes shut, starts rocking his pelvis up in time with your slow, sensual rotations. Both of his hands clamp down hard over your hips as they continue to undulate in slow circles around his cock.

“Maker,” you whisper, trying to focus on your rhythm instead of the terrifying, building sensation inside of you. Fuck, you can literally feel the threat of your orgasm start to carefully wind itself around the base of your spine, simmering and sparking with dark pleasure as it gradually spreads its electric claws outwards. It’s huge. You can already feel it gathering together inside you, culminating into something monstrous and fierce.

Cassian says your name, and you suddenly blink your eyes open at the unexpected urgency and tightness in his voice. Your vision takes a second to focus on his gorgeous face, and when you immediately see the same exact storm of swirling desperation in his eyes, your jaw goes slack as you speed up, trying to chase him as Cassian all but hurtles towards the blinding explosion nearing its detonation.

“Fuck, I—” he gasps, and then he’s suddenly going rigid under you and cumming deep in your slick heat with a desperate sound, shuddering and gasping for you as his thumbs dig into your thighs. Fuck, you grind harder, trying to find and focus on your favorite angle now as Cassian whimpers through the bliss and writhes under you, throbbing and pumping in steady, helpless jolts.

You whimper, too—fuck, you’re almost there, you’re gasping and trying to surrender to the swelling sensation, but it’s so intense and overwhelming and you’re close to tears because you’re fighting it just as much as you’re seeking it out, and��

And then the breath is suddenly knocked out of you when Cassian reaches up to grab you and flip the both of you over, your back coming down hard against the mattress. He kneels between your legs, hooks both of your calves over his shoulders, props his arms next to your head, and then he starts thrusting.

You sob brokenly, slapping an open palm against his chest. Fuck, his cock is still so hard and it shreds up achingly deep against that blinding spot so perfectly, you can’t focus on anything anymore. The dark, evasive build immediately twists up sharp and impending as Cassian fucks you steady and deep, and you start to muffle your cries and gasps into the back of your hand.

But then, oh—words are coming, too. Oh Maker, you can feel the urge to say them rise up along with the ferocious stirrings of your orgasm, clawing its way out of your throat before you can do anything to stop it.

“Fuck—” you tear your hand away to sob brokenly, not being able to stop yourself as the tsunami begins to peak, “oh, fuck—I love you. Oh, fuck, I—I love you, Cassian—I love you, I—IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou—”

His cock splinters up against sheer euphoria inside you as you cum with a desperate wail of his name, pussy clamping down hard as it erupts into searing hot ecstasy around him.

—and then suddenly Cassian is lurching against you and bringing his lips down to yours, licking into your mouth and cumming deep inside you once more. Maker, you nearly scream at the sensation, your tight cunt milking the throbbing length of him with endlessly wet, hot contractions as he grinds you both through the aching bliss. He kisses you like he’s wanted to do it for years, bites your bottom lip as you whimper and spasm wildly around him.

Fuck, you can hear the mess you’re both making. It’s obscene, filling the room with the slick sound of your desperate coupling. Cassian eventually pulls his mouth away to look down at where he’s rocking into your drenched cunt, the evidence of his own pleasure slicking up hard lines of his erection.

Your eyes roll back when he doesn’t stop thrusting.

***

You lose track of everything.

Time, direction, responsibility—nothing matters, because Cassian goes on like that. For hours, taking you apart every single way you can imagine. You fuck the effects of the spice out of your body until nothing exists but him—Cassian’s cock stretching you, his tongue gliding along your skin, his whispered words of broken praise murmured against your neck.

Strangely, your body feels absolutely amazing when you finally manage to gain the slightest bit of awareness of your obligations again. You feel like you’re floating above everything, almost dreamlike in how unbelievably satisfied you feel.

You slowly blink up at the ceiling, and then suddenly remember the nine-hundred call you have to make. You’re both naked, sprawled out on top of your mattress, and Cassian—

“Cass—” you rasp, pulling on the thick waves of hair tangled between your fingers and feeling his hot tongue slip out of your pussy. It’s still slightly dark in your room, but that could just be the horrendous weather blocking the sun. “What—what time is it? Did we miss—?”

“Almost eight,” Cassian rumbles low against your thigh. “We still have some time before we need to get up.”

You lurch into startled awareness, getting go of him to prop yourself you on your elbows. “But that’s—no, we have to shower, and—”

“A ten minute walk to the hangar from here, yes?” Cassian reasons, pressing a lazy kiss to your thigh and not sounding bothered in the slightest. “Twenty minutes to shower together, ten minutes to get dressed. We have at least ten more minutes before we need to think about getting up.”

You shudder and blink down at him, naked and relaxed as he mouths over your skin. Maker, how can everything change and yet still be so familiar at the same time?

“I think I might crash my x-wing today,” you finally breathe out, dropping your shoulders back down to the mattress once again.

“No,” he returns, turning his head to kiss your other thigh. “You will not. Because I checked my holopad earlier, and they sent the coordinates for red squadron’s patrols.”

You narrow your eyebrows at the ceiling. What does that have to do with anyth—?

And then you suddenly go shock-still under him, trying not to let the blind, overwhelming hope surge up inside you.

“Bring extra credits, caraya,” Cassian murmurs, lowering his head back down between your legs. “We are going to Lothal.”

#Cassian Andor x reader #Cassian Andor x you #Cassian Andor #Smut #fanfic #no-droids

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