#WookieTales

[kikis-writing-world]

Whole Enchilada

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Words: ~2k

This is a silly, self-indulgent drabble. I got one of those delivery meal kits and it came with enchiladas. I fucked them up. They were edible, but they weren’t good. Well, in the few days since The Incident, this formed in my mind. I was just excited to be writing anything again. Hope you enjoy it.

Also, while I don’t think I say so much in words, I usually write Frankie with Chilean heritage for obvious reasons. I know enchiladas aren’t Chilean, but I wanted to pay tribute to the dish that started it. That’s also why I start with Santiago bringing them up. I just don’t want anyone coming at me about mixing up cultures :)

Not proofread or betaed. I don’t believe there are any warnings but read on at your own risk.

Frankie felt reinvigorated as he pulled into the driveway, the fatigue of a long day at work making way for the excitement and relief of making it home. He couldn’t stop the soft smile from appearing as he thought about it. He’d spent years of his life chasing a home, never quite finding somewhere that felt right enough to set roots. His teen years were spent at friends’ houses and roaming the city, never quite feeling at home after his mother passed away. Enlisting after graduation had him traveling the world, fighting for Uncle Sam with nothing to show for it except a meager pension, a collection of scars, and a broken mind. He slid easily into drug use after he left the army, using to quiet the echoes of war that hid in the shadows of his mind. With the white powder in his veins, the need for a home didn’t feel so oppressive.

It wasn’t an easy hole to dig himself out of and he never would have gotten there without help. His brothers in arms kicking his ass back into shape, the VA and their therapy for veterans struggling to return to civilian life, and more than one stint in a rehab facility. The memory of the withdrawal was enough to make him shiver in real life. The sensation helped him shake the memory of his time in that sterile environment - the shakes, the pain, the all consuming need to use - and brought him back to the present. To his home. To you.

It took him almost 40 years to find what he was looking for and when he did, it hit him like a slap in the face. He had never found home because home wasn’t somewhere. It was someone. Meeting you had been like stepping out of a dark cave and seeing the beach for the first time. The musty, stale air replaced with refreshing ocean air, the bright sun warming his chilled, dull skin. He was a moth drawn to the bright light you introduced to his life and as long as he stayed in that light, home could be anywhere.

He pushed open the creaky door to his old, brown truck, giving himself the same mental reminder he always did to oil it one of these days. The thought was fleeting and likely to be forgotten as it had been millions of times before. As the door slammed shut behind him, his focus turned back to you, to home, just on the other side of the recently painted blue door.

The scent of chili powder hung heavy in the air, almost enough to make him cough as he crossed the threshold. It tickled at his nose and pricked at his eyes, mixing with the scent of other spices and something that smelled a little too much like something burning. Worried, He called your name through the house.

“It’s fine, it’s okay, I just-” your voice rang through the house, panicking until you cut yourself off with a loud, frustrated groan. The tap in the kitchen turned on. Frankie kicked his boots off carelessly, leaving them lopsided on the floor in favor of hurrying to your side.

The kitchen looked like a disaster in progress. A baking pan sat on top of the stove, smoke billowing up from the charred remains of… Frankie couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be. The hood above the stove was running full speed, pulling as much of the smoke out of the house as possible. A pot was sitting in the sink, water running into it and overflowing down the drain. A pan of roasted veggies sat, seemingly harmless amid the chaos. Evidence of the prep work was strewn about the counters: cutting board, knives, various spice jars.

You were a fair cook. You had a few favorite recipes you knew how to nail every time and some bigger recipes you made for potlucks or parties. Frankie had never seen you struggle to cook, which made the scene all the more shocking.

Finally, his eyes fell to you. You were sitting on the floor in front of the sink, leaning back into the cupboards behind you with your knees pulled up. Dried tear tracks cut through the flour dusted across one cheek as you picked at a loose thread on your jeans. Frankie saw the set of your jaw and the wobble of your bottom lip as you fought to keep it together.

First, Frankie reached over you to turn off the faucet. He slowly kneeled, groaning quietly as his knees popped and cracked, until he was on the floor with you.

“Mariposa, qué pasó?” He asked, resting his large, warm hands on your knees. “Are you okay?”

You nodded but avoided eye contact with him as you kept picking at the thread. He stared for a moment, wishing you’d meet his eyes. He watched as tears gathered anew along your lash line before cupping your chin softly in his hand. He lifted your face to his, leaving you with no choice but to make eye contact with him.

“What happened?” He asked again, patient as his thumb brushed away the first tear to break the dam.

“I- I was trying…” You mumbled, your voice hitching as you fought against your emotions. You took a breath and swallowed around the lump in your throat. “It’s stupid,” you shook your head as you rolled your eyes. The motion made more tears slip down your cheeks.

“It’s not stupid if you’re upset. Dime.” He prompted, brushing away more tears as they came.

You mumbled something quietly, stubborn and embarrassed. It was too low for Frankie to hear, so he quirked an eyebrow and leaned in closer, hoping you’d say it again.

You groaned, throwing your head back to thump against the cabinets. The sound echoed through the mostly-empty cabinet under the sink, making Frankie wince.

“This is all Santiago’s fault!” You cried out in frustration.

Frankie felt a wave of ice surge through him. Santiago was one of his oldest friends, but he was also one of the most reckless. Memories of Colombia flashed through his mind before he could stop them. “What did Pope do?” He asked, losing the fight to keep his voice level. His tone dropped, a dangerous, low timbre of warning.

“No, no, it’s not…” You rushed to put Frankie’s mind at ease. “It’s something he said… It’s so stupid, it shouldn’t be.”

As you rambled, Frankie stood with a long groan. Once he was at full height, he offered his hand to you. You bit your lip for a moment before accepting his help off the floor. He pulled you up easily, guiding you into his waiting arms. With your body tucked against his, he could feel the tension running through you. You gripped his flannel shirt, anchoring yourself as he ran his hand up and down your back in a comforting motion.

“What did Santiago say that made you burn…” Frankie trailed off, eyeing the pan on the oven. It had stopped smoking, so that was a good sign. He decided to play it safe, not trying to identify the mess. “Made you burn dinner?”

You didn’t answer right away, but Frankie gave you time. He nuzzled your hair as he waited for you to get your words together, smelling the scent of your shampoo under all the burnt spices in the air.

“Don’t laugh.” You finally muttered into his chest.

“Never.” He promised.

“Last week, at Benny’s place, for the barbeque…” You trailed off.

He nodded once, humming affirmatively that he remembered that night. He racked his brain, trying to remember what Santiago said that night. Nothing stuck out to him.

“He said... Hesaidthathednevermarrysomeonewhocouldntmakegoodenchiladas.” You spat out too quickly for Frankie to understand.

“Say that again?” He asked.

You pulled out of the hug, pacing as you ranted. “He said he’d never marry someone who couldn’t make good enchiladas and I realized that I don’t know how to cook enchiladas. Even worse, I don’t know how to cook empanadas or papa rellena or cazuela or anything you grew up eating and you’ll never marry me if I don’t learn how to cook something for you. You’re going to leave me for some beautiful latina who makes sopaipilla every Sunday and-”

Frankie had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, but he promised. He caught your arm as you crossed the kitchen, stopping your pacing. He held you at arms length, rubbing your arms.

“Woah, tranquila, deep breaths.” He instructed, releasing one arm to brush your hair away from your face. He took a deep breath, trying to get you to follow. You blinked up at him as you inhaled, trying to match his pace.

“Please don’t leave me for-”

Frankie silenced you with a kiss, hoping that he was silencing Santiago’s voice in your mind along with any other doubts you held. You froze against him before returning the kiss, letting him lead as he caressed your lips with his own. He wrapped his arms around you, tangling one hand in your hair while the other rested on your back, keeping you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his back in return, fisting the soft shirt across his shoulder blades.

When he pulled away, he stared down at your still closed eyes. You were breathing deeply and slower than you had been (even if it wasn’t as slowly as he’d like.) You were clearly no longer panicking.

Your dazed eyes blinked open, meeting his. You stared up at him, lips parted and kiss swollen as you caught your breath.

“I’m not leaving you. At least not over empanadas.” He grinned.

Your eyes widened, your dazed look turning into shock followed quickly by annoyance. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.” You pouted.

“And I’m not,” he pointed out, although he couldn’t stop himself from smiling over how silly you were being. “First of all, don’t listen to Santiago. He would have settled down with Alicia if she’d let him, and she couldn’t make enchiladas. She couldn’t boil water without setting something on fire.”

You couldn’t help but snort at the reminder of Alicia, a woman Santiago dated a few years back. She was fine but all wrong for him. He was blinded by love. Well, love and her body.

“Secondly, I’m not going anywhere unless you’re coming with me.” He promised. “I love your cooking, and if you want to learn more dishes, then we can learn together. No more crying over burnt empanadas, okay?”

“Okay,” you chuckled, your skin heating bashfully as Frankie leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“How about I order us some burgers and I help you clean this up?” He suggested, looking over the mess of the kitchen again.

“I would kill for a burger.” You groaned, snuggling up to Frankie as you tucked your head against his shoulder.

Frankie glanced over at the brick of charcoal on the stove - now identified as enchiladas - and fought back a laugh. “Oh don’t worry, they’re dead.”

A gasp from you was his only warning before you swatted him in the chest. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing at your affronted look. You laughed with him, even as you grumbled about him under your breath as you turned to deal with the pot in the sink.

Frankie pressed a kiss to your temple, muttering “love you too,” on his way to deal with the pan on the stove.

General Taglist @generalfoolish @harriedandharassed

P*dro P*scal Taglist @ilikechocolatemilkh @spideysimpossiblegirl @eli-the-thinker @seasonschange-butpeopledont @slightlyobsessedwithissues​

Frankie Morales Taglist @sugarpunch-princess​ @slightlyobsessedwithissues​ @mrsxreeves​

#Frankie Morales drabble #Frankie Catfish Morales drabble #Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales imagine #Frankie Catfish Morales #WookieTales #Triple Frontier Imagine

[kikis-writing-world]

My Eyes Only

Summary: What starts as pillow talk and getting ready for a night at the club, ends with a reminder that Blue doesn’t like to share.

Pairing: Blue Jones x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating/Warnings: SMUT - there is no “active” sex in this, but there is talk of it plus foreplay. Shaving (plus a quick mention of pubic hair,) anal play, mentions of plugs and lube. Possessive!Blue gets it’s own warning, especially when reader is being a bit bratty. Mentions of mental illness and institutions. Mentions of past violence. No editing/beta. If I missed anything, please let me know.

A/N: I’m not sure where the idea truly stemmed from, but I wanted to write a “slice of life” of lying in bed with Blue, tracing the scar from when Babydoll stabbed him. It evolved into this. He may come off a little OC (at least at first,) but I like to imagine he’s changed a bit since getting stabbed - plus love makes people act crazy, right?

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ’creator chooses not to use warnings’. You also agree that you’re the right age to be consuming anything here.

The dual panting for breath had long since ended, sweat cooling on your skin and sticking your bodies together as your heart rates returned to normal. The steady, soothing thumping echoed through Blue’s chest, nearly lulling you back to sleep. You fought to keep your eyelids open, knowing your time laying together was going to come to an end sooner than you’d like.

Blue’s hand trailed up and down your bare back, making you squirm occasionally as he brushed against a ticklish spot. You could hear his breathing change into an amused puff every time you moved and you could imagine the lazy, pleased smirk that accompanied it.

With your head rested against his rising and falling chest, your fingertips skimmed across the discolored skin of the large scar on his shoulder. An incident from before your time at the club. A myth traded between dancers before you and Blue had gotten close, confirmed now by the evidence across his pale skin.

“What happened to her?” You asked, breaking the serene silence of the room.

“Hmm?” Blue hummed, oblivious to your current train of thoughts.

“The girl. The one who did this.” You clarified, resting the palm of your hand over the jagged scar.

“Lennox House.” He answered simply. The two words made you shudder as you thought of the foreboding building on the outskirts of town, full of mentally unstable women. “Probably there for life.”

You could feel him tensing beneath you as he thought of the attack. You wondered how much of the stories you had heard were true. You were sure that even Blue’s account was exaggerated to some extent, and you knew that the stories the girls whispered to each other were even worse.

You tilted your head up, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. The growing stubble prickled at your skin, a treat that you usually didn’t get with Blue. Aside from his clean, thin mustache, the man preferred a clean shave, always wanting to look put together in front of clients.

He cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to kiss you. His plush, warm lips slid easily against yours, still tender and kiss-swollen from earlier. You sighed into the kiss, sliding your hand from his shoulder to his neck. You caressed his jawline with your thumb, feeling a spark of desire break through the sated, satisfied feeling in your gut. You shifted against him, getting more comfortable as you licked his bottom lip. He groaned softly, but pulled away instead of granting you access.

“We need to get ready.” He reminded you sadly, moving his hand to tangle in your hair. You leaned into his touch.

You pouted up at him, batting your eyelashes exaggeratedly as you slid your leg over his thigh. His eyes fluttered as you pressed your core against him, a combination of earlier’s arousal and your new growing interest pressing warmly against him.

He bit back a groan, letting his hand fall to your ass for a quick squeeze. “I know, cupcake, but money doesn’t make itself in this place.” He teased as he started to sit up, making you move with him. 

You disentangled yourself from him, sitting on the bed as he stood. He groaned as he stretched, rolling his shoulders and arching his back. You watched as his pale skin rippled with the movement, your eyes inevitably falling to his bare ass. God, the man had an ass…

Blue paid no mind to your ogling, heading into his ensuite bathroom. He left the door open, but you couldn’t see him from your spot on the bed. You heard him turn on the sink, beginning his usual routine.

You dragged yourself out of the bed, humming quietly as you felt your muscles protesting. You took your turn to stretch out the tension in your back, your hips, your legs. The pleasant ache between your legs would no doubt be with you all night. You smiled softly at the thought.

You entered the bathroom behind Blue, watching him in the mirror as he applied his shaving cream. He winked at you through the mirror, but left you to your privacy as you lowered yourself onto the toilet.

You watched him as he examined his own face, slowly dragging the straight razor over his cheeks and jaw. The only break he gave in his concentration was when he shifted to the side, letting you have access to the sink to wash your hands after you had finished.

You leaned your hip against the sink, watching as he finished his left cheek. He brought the razor down to his towel, wiping off the hair and cream. Before he could lift the razor back to his face, you held your hand out for it. He paused, looking down at your hand before turning to look at you directly, not through the mirror.

“Let me help?” You asked, your confidence wavering under his gaze.

He dropped the razor carefully into your hand as he quirked an eyebrow. “Do you know what you're doing?”

“You think my hair naturally grows in this shape?” You teased with a grin, pushing away from the sink to stand closer. You could feel the heat coming off of his chest, your breasts barely brushing against his skin.

He matched your grin with his own, his palm finding your hip. His thumb traced over your skin, the tiny movement so close yet so far from where you wanted him…

With two fingers under his chin, you pushed his face upwards. The skin of his neck stretched with the movement, pulling taught for you to shave. You held your breath, keeping your hand steady as you made the first swipe through the foam. His hand on your hip tightened as stilled for you.

The two of you were silent as you carefully dragged the razor over his skin. You were concentrating while he was avoiding unnecessary movements. You could practically see his pulse jumping under the thin skin.

As you moved to his chin, you couldn’t help but watch his lips as you worked around them. You remembered how they felt against your own, on your chest, your thighs, between your folds. Your bare nipples pebbled as the ache in your core throbbed anew. You couldn’t help the soft sigh as you exhaled, finishing a long swipe of the razor down the side of his neck.

He swallowed hard at the sound, his Adam's apple bobbing as you pulled away to wipe the razon clean. You nearly jumped as you brought the razor back up to his face, feeling his hardening cock brush against your lower stomach. You looked up at his eyes for the first time since you started shaving, seeing him watching you with dark, hooded eyes. Desire shot through you once more.

You forced yourself back to the task at hand, trying not to squirm under his heavy gaze as you shaved the skin of his right cheek. When you moved to clean the razor again, he broke the silence.

“What costume are you wearing today?” He asked, voice low and gravelly.

You left the razor against the towel as you met his eyes once more. You smirked, tiling your head in thought and hummed. “I kind of like the one I’m wearing now.” You teased.

Blue’s growl was the only warning before he pushed forward, invading your space and pressing you against the wall behind you. You gasped, dropping the razor to the floor as your hands automatically found his shoulders. He gripped your waist hard - not hard enough to leave bruises though, those were from the night before.

“Don’t tease me.” He hissed into your ear, nose pressed against your temple. You could feel the remnants of the shaving cream smear between you, but you hardly cared.

“Who’s teasing?” You asked coyly, the heat in your eyes betraying the cool demeanor you were attempting. “I bet I could empty a few wallets dressed like this. All eyes on me.” You drawled out slowly.

He gripped your chin tightly, grunting in annoyance. You gasped, not expecting him to move so quickly.

“Only I get to see you like this.” He snarled dangerously. “I don’t share.”

You pressed your thighs together, whimpering.

“You’re off tonight.” He ordered, making your eyes widen. “You’re going to stay just like this,” he paused to grope at your ass with his free hand. “For my eyes only.”

“Yes, Blue.” You preened, arching into him.

A finger pressed itself between your cheeks, making you jump and whimper. The pad of his finger brushed against your puckered hole. You shivered against him.

“Oh, that’s what I’ll do,” he muttered to himself, grinning wickedly as the plan came to mind. He continued to circle and tease at your ass as you squirmed. “Stretch you out, plug you up.” He pressed harder into you, not yet breaching you. Your breath caught as your muscles tensed in anticipation. Your hips rolled, unsure if you wanted to push back into him or try to escape.

“Make you wait all night, plugged and aching for me, before I come back and remind you who you belong to.” He finished, a dangerous grin on his lips. “Would you like that, little girl?” He asked, mockingly.

You nodded frantically, your mouth too dry to speak.

“Good.” All at once, his hands were off of you. You nearly fell without the extra support, your knees buckling as you leaned heavily into the wall behind you.

“Well?” He prompted casually as he turned his attention away from you. If not for his straining cock, you would have thought you had imagined the whole thing. He lifted the towel to wipe his face clean. “The more time you waste, the less time I’ll have to prep you. Some of us need to work tonight.” He warned in the same casual tone. “I’d go get the lube, if I were you.”

You rushed past him, back into the bedroom, as his filthy laugh followed.

General Taglist: @generalfoolish​ @vonschweetz​​

“Other Characters” Taglist: @ilikechocolatemilkh​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​

Join my taglist here​

#Blue Jones x Reader #Blue Jones x F!Reader #Blue Jones x You #Blue Jones imagine #Blue Jones fanfiction #Blue Jones Sucker Punch #Blue Jones drabble #Blue Sucker Punch #Blue Jones smut #Oscar Isaac Character Fan Fiction #wookietales

[kikis-writing-world]

Attraction and Other Subjectivities

Summary: You try to be a good friend for Jonathan as he deals with the separation, lending him an ear when he needs to talk. The two of you have had a few drinks when he starts telling you some of the things Mira said to him before leaving. You want to prove them wrong.

Pairing: Jonathan Levy x AFAB!Reader (I tried to make the character very blank canvas so anyone could enjoy. Please let me know if I missed anything so I can improve!)

Word Count: ~7k

Rating/Warnings: SMUT (PinV, fingering and oral (f receiving,) unprotected (pull out method,)) questionable consent due to alcohol consumption. Alcohol consumption being it’s own warning. Spoilers for ep 2 of Scenes From a Marriage. Canon compliant talk of marriage separation, cheating, abortion. A brief vertigo-esque moment brought on from heights.

You watched Jonathan as he topped up your glass of wine. His cheeks were rosy from the alcohol and you were sure yours weren’t any better off. It was his first weekend in the house alone since Mira had left for Tel Aviv. He’d told you the broad strokes of the story - she left him for another man practically overnight, had her “new life” all planned out with no room for conversation. You didn’t pry past what he was willing to tell you. Your heart broke for the man you considered a close friend, not simply a coworker, his world turning upside down all at once.

Ava was spending the weekend with her mother at the hotel room she had booked. Coming back every second weekend from the other side of the world seemed crazy to you. You could understand a mother doing anything for her children, including an 11 hour flight, but wouldn’t it have been easier to stay in the country in the first place? You didn’t understand, but you offered Jonathan your support the best you can.

He had called you shortly after Ava left for the night, asking if you wanted to come over for a drink. You weren’t surprised. You were sure that he was going crazy in the house alone, left with the shattered pieces of his family. Everything was new enough that signs of Mira were all over the house. Her preferred coffee creamer still in the fridge, her toiletries still in the shower - you couldn’t help but think how cruel it was that she had just left Jonathan to deal with the fall out.

“The house is just… it’s so quiet.” He mumbled, taking a sip of his white wine. You followed suit, sipping from your refilled glass - how many had you had already? You’d lost count - as you gave him the space to talk. To vent.

“Just a few weeks ago, all three of us were here. We were- well, I thought we were happy.” He huffed, shaking his head. “We were over the…”

He trailed off, seeming to be lost in thought. You knew about the abortion. He had already confided in you, needing someone outside of the situation to talk to as he came to terms with it. You could tell from the way he spoke about it that he would have loved a second child, even if he respected Mira’s decision to terminate. You hadn’t said as much to him, but you wondered if the child was even really his with the new information coming to light.

You reached a hand out, placing your hand on top of his in a comforting gesture. “I know. I was so happy you were bouncing back.” You told him, truly meaning it. It had taken a few months but the exhaustion had faded from his face, his usual demeanor returning as the two of them seemed to reconcile. “But… this isn’t your fault. You have to know that, right?”

Jonathan laughed, a bitter huff of air puffing through his lips. “I keep trying to tell myself that but-”

“No buts, Jon.” You interrupted, squeezing his hand. “I don’t care what she said, what kind of lies she told to make herself feel better. You’re the victim in this.”

He took a long drink of his wine, draining over half of the glass at once. “I should have noticed,” he mumbled.

“How were you to notice? You can’t read minds.” You chuckled, trying to lighten the dark mood that had fallen over the kitchen.

He turned his hand over with a sigh, clasping your hand in his. You knew the gesture was in thanks, but you weren’t sure exactly what for. For lightening the mood, for being there for him, for being on his side - you knew mutual friends of his and Mira that had either taken her side outright or by proxy of “staying out of it.”

“She told me she wasn’t attracted to me anymore.” He admitted quietly, staring at the counter top between you.

Your mouth dropped open in surprise before you could stop yourself. He continued talking, luckily not seeming to realize your reaction.

“Right before she left. I was trying to fix it… asking her to stay so we could work it out, try therapy, something. Anything. Then she told me she wasn’t attracted to me anymore.”

Your mind struggled to accept the strange concept. You had always found Jonathan attractive, but it was something you kept hidden. He was already dating Mira when you met him so there was no reason to broadcast that you found him handsome. The attraction had never faded, quite the opposite: it grew as you got to know him better, as he aged. His once inky curls sporting streaks of grey. The laugh lines around his eyes growing deeper. He stayed fit, even if his body filled out slightly with age.

It wasn’t just a physical attraction either. You could debate with him for hours, picking apart his points to understand his thought process. He was so in love with his family, a devotion that shone through his eyes anytime he spoke about them. His absolute dedication to both Mira and Ava was something you longed for in a partner - high standards, you learned through your many failed relationships over the years. There was no one quite like Jonathan Levy.

“That’s fucking ridiculous.” You scoffed, taking your hand back so you could cross your arms angrily. “”Not attracted to you anymore,” what does that even mean?”

Jonathan removed his glasses to scrub at his face with a sigh before replacing them. “She showed me the new guy.”

“What?” You balked, leaning forward to brace yourself against the corner of the kitchen island.

“I asked her to.” He explained, resting his hand against your arm to pacify your anger. “He’s young. Not even 30 yet.”

“A fucking child.” You scoffed.

“Guess I’m too old? I don’t know.” He took his hand back to sip his wine, draining the glass again.

“That’s bullshit, Jon. She’s old. I’m old. We’re all old!” You leaned back, shaking your head in disbelief. “Mature, maybe not. Globetrotting and cradle robbing…” You grumbled under your breath, but Jonathan must have heard you by the way he stifled his laugh into his wine.

“Don’t listen to a damn word she said, you hear me?” You urge, reaching forward for both of his hands the moment his wine glass is safely on the counter. “She’s going through… whatever it is, I’m not going to waste my time justifying her actions. This isn’t your fault, and you’re a damn attractive man.”

Jonathan laughed, turning away from you. “Thanks,” he mumbled half-heartedly.

You didn’t let him go, seeing the doubt on his face. “I mean it. You were hot when you got married and you’ve aged like good whisky since. If she isn’t attracted to you, then that’s something wrong with her.”

He tried to pull his hands away once more, grumbling your name with a fond eye-roll. “I’m not… It's fine.”

“What? Not hot?” You questioned, watching as Jonathan’s face flushed even more - and not from just the alcohol this time. “I know you grew up shoving all those desires down and all, but do you seriously have no idea how the female students look at you? And some of the male ones.” You added with a laugh.

“Really?” Jonathan asked, looking honestly surprised. He slipped his hands easily from your grip as you laughed, his palms growing sweaty against yours.

“Really.” You confirmed, taking a sip of wine. “Just because some people aren’t attracted to intellectualism,” you spat bitterly, “doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t.”

Jonathan pondered it for a moment before shaking his head once again. “Students crush on faculty all the time. It’s not- It’s not looks or their minds, it’s the unattainable. It’s the power dynamic. Hell, for some of them, it’s a kink. It’s circumstantial.” He argued. “You say young people find me attractive, but it’s not… it’s the idea of me they find attractive.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You knew there were mirrors in this house, you had seen them. The man thinking it was “the idea” of an older, mature man in power being the reason people fawned over him was crazy. You tipped back your glass, drinking back the rest of your wine, ready to counter-point his idiotic thoughts.

“You’re my age, and I’m not attractive to you.” He stated conversationally, making you nearly choke on the last of the wine. You were ready to laugh at him when you saw the serious expression that told you he wasn’t joking.

“How would you know that I’m not attracted to you?” You challenged, setting your glass down and giving him your full attention.

“We’ve been friends for a decade, give or take,” he explained. “You’ve never said anything, never acted…” He trailed off, searching for the words.

“What, slutty?” You filled in. “Just because I haven’t thrown myself at you does not mean I don’t find you attractive.”

Jonathan waved his hand between you, like he was batting your point out of the air like a fly. “Skewed data. My wife just left me, as my friend of course you’re going to-”

“Jonathan,” you cut him off, grabbing his hand out of the air. You pushed it down so you could stare him in his eyes as you spoke. “I am attracted to you. You are attractive.” You spoke slowly, annunciating each syllable.

“You’re just saying that.” He defended.

You couldn’t pinpoint the deciding factor for your next action. The defeat in his voice, the hurt on his face, or the alcohol in your veins. Keeping his right hand captured in yours, you leaned forward, having to slide off the stool and round the counter to properly crowd into his space. Your free hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him forward as you pressed your lips together.

His lips were soft but firm against yours, though unmoving. His beard prickled against your skin not unpleasantly. The smell of the wine you’d both been drinking mixed with the cedarwood and aloe in his beard. You were close enough that you could feel the warmth of his chest just inches away.

The moment dragged on, lips pressed together with an awkward stillness as your mind caught up to your actions. You were kissing Jonathan - something you had admittedly thought about before, but not like this.

You jerked back, pulling your hands back to your sides as you opened your eyes. Jonathan stared at you with a look of shock, eyes wide behind his glasses as his lips parted slightly. The lips you had just felt against your own. You took several deep breaths, trying to calm your heart as it threatened to beat right out of your ribcage. The silence dragged on between you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I shouldn’t have…’ You mumbled, too stunned to focus on the words coming out of your mouth. You looked around, looking at anything but Jonathan who still hadn’t moved. You grabbed your phone from the counter, sliding it into your pocket. “I should go. I think I… I proved my point.”

You turned, speeding towards the mudroom where your coat hung. You would wait outside while you called a car. If you were drunk enough to force yourself on Jonathan, a man grieving the dissolution of his marriage, you were definitely too drunk to drive. You tried not to think of how awful of a friend you just became. You could wallow in your poor decisions once you got out of here.

Your fingers brushed the soft fabric of your coat as a hand wrapped around your wrist, spinning you around. You gasped in shock at the sudden movement, stumbling backwards into the wall behind you on unsteady feet.

The pressure on your lips was back. The smell of chardonnay and cedarwood was back. The warmth of his chest, crowding you into the wall, was back. His lips moved against yours, this time you being the one shocked into stillness. His lips were damp, like he had licked them just before kissing you…

He was kissing you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as you began to kiss him back. You felt the hum of satisfaction in his chest as your lips moved with his. His left hand slid between your head and the wall, his right gripping at your hip. His beard prickled you as he nuzzled against you, trying to perfect the angle of the kiss.

You trailed your hand up the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his curls. They were soft, just like you had always imagined them to be. You tightened your grip lightly and he sucked on your lip in response. It made your knees weak, stealing the breath from your lungs. He shifted closer, pressing against you from his shoulders to his thighs. 

You whimpered his name, rolling your body against his. You wanted to feel him, all the parts of him that had been off limits to you for years. He quieted you by licking into your mouth, pressing forward with drunken need.

Your tongues tangled, sharing the taste of the crisp wine, mixing with your own unique flavors. His tongue dominated your mouth, sending jolts of pleasure down your body. You could feel the heat pooling at your core, your slick collecting between your folds. The hand not tangled in Jonathan’s hair slid across his shoulder blades and upper back, feeling the way the muscles there moved as he devoured you, as he pushed to get closer than was possible. You fisted the fabric of the soft sweater in your hands.

The hand on your hip slid up your body, tracing your curves as it settled just below your breast. You arched your back, pressing your chest into his hand. You wanted him to touch you, wanted to feel his strong hands on you. He obliged, cupping you through your shirt. He groaned into your mouth, kneading insistently.

You whimpered in response, your head tilting back into his grip. His lips left yours, kissing your chin, your jaw, your neck. His mouth never left your skin as he kissed and sucked his way down to your collarbone. You panted, trying to catch your breath from the onslaught, each inhale pressing you harder into his hands. Your lips tingled, kiss swollen and spit-slicked. You tugged at his sweater, trying to pull it upwards. You untangled your hand from his hair, using it to rumple the fabric at his shoulders. You tilted your head to grant him access to your neck as you pulled the sweater higher up his back.

He groaned your name as he pulled away, a slick popping noise echoing in the tiny room. He took a step away, putting enough distance between the two of you to pull his sweater off his body, taking the worn undershirt with it. The motion knocked his glasses askew on his face. He took them off, placing them haphazardly on the table near the door that housed junkmail and car keys.

Your arms fell back to your sides, pressing against the wall to help keep you upright. You felt light headed as you watched his chest revealed to you. You had seen him shirtless before, but never under circumstances like this. Not when you had the taste of his lips on yours or knew the way his beard felt against your skin. You eyed the thin trail of hair that disappeared under his jeans, leading to the tent forming under the zippered fly.

You couldn’t take it, being separated that long. You pushed off the wall, opening your mouth to his once more. He stumbled backwards as he caught you, the warm skin of his bare arms wrapping around you as the two of you fell into the wall of coats. Your hands found purchase on his chest, feeling it heave as he breathed you in. Your hands dragged downwards, trailing over his bare skin. He moaned, pressing into you and making you walk backwards. One hand on your lower back held you to him as the other navigated the doorframe into the rest of the house. Your lips, your tongues never stopping the heated kiss as you followed his lead, prepared to go anywhere he wanted to take you.

The two of you stopped abruptly as you hit the banister of the stairs. You grunted, the air being forced from your lungs as you fell into the wooden frame. Jonathan’s hand left your back, sliding down to feel the sliver of skin between your shirt and your pants. His touch left goosebumps across your skin. Your own hands wound around his sides, feeling him flinch as you brushed a ticklish spot. You giggled breathlessly into the kiss, pulling him harder into you.

He chuckled in return, both hands grabbing the hem of your shirt. You had to arch yourself, pressing into him and away from the bannister, to get your shirt free. His lips left yours only at the last moment that they needed to, pulling the shirt over your head and dropping it to the floor. He didn’t resume the kiss, instead pressing his face into your cleavage with a quiet groan. You tossed your head back, holding his head in both hands as he licked and kissed your breasts.

You whimpered and squirmed, trapped as he wound his arms back around you. He nipped at your skin, soothing the spot with his tongue soon afterwards. His warm, wet tongue followed the line of your bra, dipping lower between your breasts.

You released your hold on him, reaching back to unclip your bra. You let it fall to the ground between the two of you, forgotten and useless as Jonathan moved lower. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he sucked your nipple into his mouth.

“Oh my god…” You breathed, watching the top of his head as he showered your chest with attention. His tongue flicked across the hardened peak, making you shiver. He kept one strong, warm arm around your waist as he cupped your other breast. As he closed his teeth around your nipple, he pinched with his fingers, making you moan.

“Jonathan, please.” You whined, pressing your thighs together in search of friction. You didn’t know what you were asking him for, just more.

His hand stayed put, massaging as he kissed you once more. His beard was damp from the messy attention he’d been doting on you. “I’ve got you.” He murmured against your lips, punctuating his promise with another pinch to your nipple.

You gasped into his mouth, pressing into him. You felt his hardened length against your hip, making you ache even more. He shuffled backwards, letting you follow him away from the banister that had you pinned in place. Your feet bumped into his awkwardly, both of you reluctant to stop kissing each other to move.

You jolted backwards as you tripped over his feet, somehow catching yourself in a sitting position on the stairs. You panted for breath, staring up at him as he towered over you. You licked your lips as your eyes trailed down his bare chest, all the way to where his pants barely hid his erection.

You reached forward to unbutton his pants, but he caught your hands, stopping you. He knelt in front of you, staring into you with dark eyes. You couldn’t even see the brown of his eyes, his pupils so wide with lust as he knelt in front of you.

“Let me...” he mumbled under his breath, releasing your hands to reach for your own pants instead. He flicked the button open easily and tugged the zipper down. You lifted your hips from the stairs as he yanked them down, leaving you in just your panties. You bit your lip, feeling the cool air against your flushed skin as he pulled your legs free. He released one leg from his grip, lifting the other to kiss your calf.

You leaned back against the stairs, using your arms to brace yourself as he kissed and bit his way up your leg. His shoulders pushed your legs apart as he climbed higher, getting closer and closer to where you desperately wanted him. 

You were so wet. You could feel the damp patch on your panties as you squirmed for him. You knew the minute he spotted it, a strangled groan building up from his chest. You received no other warning as he dove forward, inhaling deeply as he pressed his face to your core.

You called out in surprise and arousal, your head falling backwards as you felt him kissing and licking you through the garment. He whined at the taste of you, gripping your hips tightly to hold you in place. He found your hardened clit through the fabric, making you whimper and buck into him despite his hold. The wet fabric dragged against you, making your toes curl. It was exquisite, but still not enough.

“Off.” You demanded, hooking your thumbs into the elastic waistband. Jonathan obliged, leaning back and letting you close your legs in order to get them off. He dropped them to the stairs, pulling your legs apart and diving back into your core as he propped your legs over his shoulders.

You couldn’t have stopped yourself from crying his name if you tried. His hot tongue assaulted your bundle of nerves as his beard scraped your sensitive folds. His hot breath puffed against you as he licked and sucked, the filthy sounds invading the space.

“So good,” he groaned against you before licking into your fluttering hole. Your hand shot to the top of his head, trying to hold him in place as he collected your slick on his tongue.

“Don’t stop.” You begged, rolling your hips against him.

His free hand found yours where it was splayed against the stairs, keeping you upright. He tangled his fingers with yours, squeezing his reassurances that he wasn’t stopping anytime soon. He drank down every drop he could find as his nose and mustache tickled your clit. You felt the tight ball of pleasure forming in your gut, your body climbing closer and closer to release.

You dropped your chin to your chest, looking down at Jonathan as he drank from you like a man parched. His dark eyes met yours with a burning intensity as he pressed his tongue inside your pussy, seeking more. You swore, fisting his hair as you clenched around him. He kept his tongue rigid as he pressed it in and out of you, making you buck up to meet it.

He pulled off of you with an obscene slurping noise. You didn’t have time to complain about the loss as a single, thick finger quickly replaced his tongue. “So tight baby,” he praised as you moaned. 

He sucked your clit back into his mouth as he pumped his finger in and out of you.

You felt your legs starting to shake on either side of his head, your back arching against the edges of the steps behind you as you grew even closer to your peak. “A-another one.’ You stuttered, pleading for more.

He hummed, the vibrating coursing through your body as he pressed a second finger in alongside the second. They pushed in and out slowly but steadily as he hummed around your clit. You panted and stammered, warning him you were close, so close. He didn’t relent, turning his hand and changing his angle, pressing even deeper inside of you.

His name left your lips in loud moan as you came. Your toes dug into his back, thighs clenching around his head as you threw your head back in ecstasy. He kept pumping, your walls desperately milking his fingers as he groaned his approval against your heated skin.

You collapsed back into the stairs, panting as your orgasm faded. The edges of the steps dug painfully into you but you couldn’t move as you lay there breathless. Jonathan slowed his ministrations, eventually pulling his fingers from you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling yourself twitching around the emptiness he left behind.

You rolled your head onto your shoulder, watching through heavy eyelids as he sucked his fingers clean of you. You moaned quietly at the sight, his beard already covered in your juices.

“So sweet,” Jonathan sighed around his fingers, releasing them from his mouth with a pop.

You reached your hand out to him, wanting off the uncomfortable stairs. He took your hand in his, pulling you up to standing. You wobbled slightly as his arms came to wrap around you, helping your balance.

His lips were back on yours, the taste of you coating them. The smell of your own arousal was heady in his beard as he licked into your mouth like he had been licking into your cunt just moments before. You fought to keep up, his passion overtaking your haze. He was still thick and wanting, pressed into your hip as he slid his hand down your back to palm your ass.

“Think you can make it up the stairs?” He asked against your lips.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, nodding slightly. The response earned you a squeeze to your ass, making you press even closer to him.

He kissed you a moment longer, seemingly fighting with himself whether or not to let you go. When he finally pulled back, he gently ushered you to start climbing the stairs ahead of him. He kept a hand on your hip, although you didn’t know if that was to continue touching you, or to make sure you didn’t fall. Or both.

At the top of the stairs, he pulled you back into him, wrapping his arms around your middle as he kissed your neck. You sighed, letting your head fall out of his way as he caressed your skin. You reached back to tangle a hand in his hair again, trying to feel connected to him. His chest was warm and sturdy against your back.

The two of you shimmied forward towards the bedroom, your steps awkward as you tried not to trip but not wanting to separate. As you walked, Jonathan’s hard cock pressed into your lower back, the swell of your ass rubbing into him as your hips swayed.

“Tease.” He growled into your ear, sliding his hand up to pinch your nipple.

You jerked with a squeak, pressing your ass harder into him and making him groan. You pushed far enough away that you could turn to face him, the bedroom door now standing a few feet behind you. You eyed him up and down, reveling in his disheveled hair and all around debauched look.

“Wouldn’t be teasing if you weren’t overdressed.” You breathed, walking backwards slowly. “You could have started fucking me on the landing if your pants were already off.”

Jonathan growled, pressing back into your personal space as he backed you into the door jam of the bedroom, his lips pressing harshly into yours. You were sure you’d feel his lips on yours for days. You’d remember it for the rest of your life.

“Careful what you wish for,” he grinned into the kiss, his hands leaving your body to start working at his pants.

You responded with your own grin, sucking his lower lip between your teeth to nip at it teasingly. He moaned in response, slowly pulling back until his lip was released from your hold. Once he was free, he bent down to push his pants the rest of the way off his legs. You took the opportunity to run your hand through his hair, appreciating the way the greying streaks caught the light.

Instead of standing right away, he gripped your hips, kissing your lower stomach and working his way back up to your chest. He pawed at you needily, nipping and leaving tiny red love bites on your skin as he went.

“C’mon,” you whined, trying to tug him into the bedroom.

“Oh no.” He laughed, standing to his full height once more. He pulled you out of the bedroom, making you frown with confusion. He turned you towards the railing, pressing up against you from behind. “You want the landing, you get the landing.” He purred, running his hands over your shoulders and down your arms. He took your hands in his, placing them on the rail.

You shuddered, looking down the two flights of stairs to the ground floor. The rail felt sturdy under your palms, but the height made your stomach drop.

“Jonathan-” you started to argue but he was behind you, pressing himself against your ass.

“It’ll hold.” He panted, fisting his length and dragging it between your cheeks. 

The complaint died on your lips as you arched your back in anticipation, trying to buck your hips in such a way to get him closer to where you wanted him.

He kicked your legs further apart before pressing you down with a hand splayed between your shoulders. You bit your lip, wiggling your hips as you tried to entice him to hurry up. You felt the blunt head of his cock between your lips, making your eyes flutter closed. You hadn’t even gotten a proper look at him, but the thick tip teasing you had you feeling his girth as it caught at your slick entrance.

“Please, Jon.” You moaned, looking back at him over your shoulder. His eyes were trained down, watching as he ran his dick over your folds. You were sure you were dripping by now, slicking up his length as it slid back and forth.

“You ask so pretty,” he sighed, notching himself at your hole. The hand on your back slid to grip your shoulder, pulling you backwards as he pushed forward slowly.

Your mixed moans of pleasure filled the space as he breached your sensitive pussy. He moved so slowly, letting you feel every ridge and vein as he entered you. Your hands tightened around the railing in front of you, your body taught with pleasure as you stretched around him.

You could hear Jonathan cursing under his breath as he bottomed out, barely able to tell what he was saying over the blood rushing through your ears. You felt his thighs press against you before he leaned over you, blanketing you with his body.

“So tight, honey.” He breathed into your ear as he caught his breath. He nuzzled into your shoulder, kissing any skin he could reach.

You wanted to reach back for him but couldn’t bring yourself to let go of the railing in front of you. It felt like the smooth wood under your hands was the only thing stopping you from either falling or floating away - you weren't sure which would happen first.

You whined, asking him to move as you rolled your hips. He groaned as you tightened around him and stood back up. Both hands gripped your hips as he pulled back, leaving some of his length inside of you before pressing back in. 

A pitiful whimper bubbled up from your chest as he started fucking into you, the breath being pushed from your lungs with each thrust.

“‘S’at good?” He huffed.

“So good.” You drawled, nodding frantically. “M-more. I can take more.”

Jonathan answered with a low hum before he picked up his pace, thrusting quicker into you.

‘Yes,” you moaned. “Like that.”

“Got you,” he panted. “I got you.”

“Don’t stop.”

The wooden bannister started creaking with the back and forth motion as you pulled on it, pushing back into each of Jonathan’s thrusts. You hung your head between your shoulders, seeing the ground of the first floor through the slats of the railing, making your stomach swoop as Jonathan fucked you.

“Oh god-” You moaned, feeling yourself shaking from the mixture of pleasure and unease.

“‘At’s it honey,” Jonathan answered you, panting heavily behind you. “God, you feel so good.”

The sound of skin on skin, feeling the way his pelvis smacked into your ass with each thrust and pushed you forward, it was more intoxicating than the bottle of wine you’d shared. You could get drunk off of this. Off of him.

“Tell me.” He grunted. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fu- fuck me.” You cried, looking back over your shoulder at him. The muscles in his arms and neck were taught. He was gritting his teeth as his messy hair flopped back and forth. He looked like a feral god. “Jona- don’t stop!”

He slowed his pace with a growl, making you whine until he thrust forward harshly. You cried out as he found a tender spot inside of you, prodding it with each rough thrust.

“Wanna touch you.” You whined, moving to take a hand off the bannister. You quickly gripped it again when you felt how off-kilter you were without it bracing you.

Jonathan pulled out of you suddenly, nearly making you fall forward with the loss. He slapped your ass, the sound echoing through the hallway. “Bedroom.” He ordered shortly, grabbing an arm and helping you to stand.

Your hands were cramped from how tightly you had been holding onto the rail. You wiggled your fingers to relieve the tension as Jonathan dragged you into his bedroom. Before he could pull you onto the bed, you pushed him down onto his back. He bounced on the mattress, watching you with an amused look on his face. His legs were bent over the edge of the bed, his cock glistening against his stomach.

He was thick, you already knew that from how he felt inside of you. His average length led up from the thatch of dark curls to the straining, dark red tip. The urge to taste him was strong, but your throbbing, empty pussy’s need was stronger.

You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. His hands fell to your hips immediately as you reached beneath you, holding his hard length in your hand for the first time. His eyes fluttered shut as you stroked him, hand gliding easily from your own juices coating him. You could hardly believe the vision before you.

“Please,” he groaned, tossing his head back.

You leaned forward, licking up the column of tight muscles in his neck as you kept stroking. You felt his adam’s apple bob against your cheek as you scraped your teeth over his skin. He shivered under you, tightening his grip on your hips.

You bit into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, making him buck up into your hand as he moaned. The sound was music to your ears, prompting you to do it again.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “C’mon honey.”

You licked over the two pink marks you’d left on his skin before sitting up. You lifted yourself, holding him steady as you lowered back onto his cock.

You didn’t pause the way he had with you. You didn’t give him time to adjust to the return of your warm heat. You bounced on him right away, rebuilding the high that had started fading in the time it took you to move to the bedroom. You braced yourself on his shoulders, letting your nails barely dig into his skin. He seemed to like the bite of pain from the nips you had left him and you wanted to give him more.

He lifted his head to look at you, his hands still gripping onto your hips. His eyes scoured your form, taking in your bouncing breasts, the look of ecstasy on your flushed face as you moved, down to where your bodies were joined, watching as his cock disappeared into you again and again.

He licked his lips, glancing up at your eyes. In the dim lamp light of the room, his eyes looked pure black. No warmth of the deep brown remained, only a dark intensity of lust. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” He groaned.

“Touch me,” you ordered, although your breathless voice made it sound like a request.

Jonathan wasted no time in obliging. One hand slid between your bodies, cupping your mound. He pressed his thumb between your folds, finding your aching clit. You moaned, high pitched and needy, as he started to rub circles around the bud.

“Yes!” You hissed, clamping your eyes shut as you revelled in the pleasure. Your pace faltered as your body tensed and shook.

Jonathan picked up the slack, thrusting up into you. Your broken moan pierced the room as you pushed back into him, trying hard to meet each thrust.

“P-please,” he panted. “Need you to-”

“‘M close.” You confirmed, nodding and meeting his eyes once more. You could feel your slick along the insides of your thighs, your frantic motions smearing it across the both of you. It was filthy in the most amazing way.

Jonathan thrust harder, pinching your clit gently. The sensation made your body jerk, falling forward against his chest with your mouth hanging open in a silent cry.

He huffed a satisfied laugh, rubbing your clit with both fingers as he continued thrusting.

“D-don’t stop. God, don’t stop.” You rambled, pressing your face against his shoulder. The smell of sweat and sex clung to his skin, surrounding you as you fought to breathe through the growing pleasure.

Another pinch had you toppling over that edge. Your stomach quaked with spasms as your walls clenched around him. Mouth wide open as you cried out, you could taste the salt stuck to his skin as you came. He was everywhere. Inside you, under you, all around you.

He grunted near your ear, his voice but no words making it through the fog of your orgasm as he chased his own release. His thrusting grew frantic, his rigid cock pushing deep inside your pulsing hole. You clung to him, unable to do much else but let him take what he wanted.

You felt him slip from your warmth at the last second, his hot release hitting your thighs and lower stomach. You whined softly at the loss as your own body came down from your high. He thrust his hips as he came, his cock pressed between the two of you as it spurt out hot seed.

Your eyes were closed, a blissed out smile on your face when he stopped moving. His hand moved from your hip to the back of your head, gently caressing your scalp as he took a moment to catch his breath. The soft gesture made you hum in contentment, the cooling, sticky mess between you momentarily forgotten.

“Fuuuuuck.” Jonathan groaned out, slipping his other arm out from between you. You opened your eyes, watching as he threw his forearm over his eyes. His face was flushed, forehead matted with sweat as his hair stuck up at odd angles. You couldn’t look away, wanting to remember forever how blissed and fucked out he looked in this moment.

“Yeah.” You agreed with a breathy chuckle, brushing your thumb over the flushed, sweaty skin of his chest.

The two of you fell into silence, the sound of your heavy breathing feeling so soft compared to the raucous noise you had been making mere moments ago. Your eyelids felt heavy, the alcohol and orgasm working together in a drowsy concoction of sedation.

Jonathan tapped your hip, his voice hoarse and deep when he told you to roll off of him. You did as he asked, wincing as you felt the cooling mess between you trying to stick the two of you together.

You stared up at the ceiling, despite how tired you felt, and wondered what to do next. Should you leave? Did he want you to stay? It had all happened so quickly, you weren’t sure where either of you stood now.

Jonathan sat up with a long, drawn out groan. You watched as he stood, dragging his feet across the carpeted floor. You felt an anxiety bubbling in your chest as you waited for a sign from him. Leave or stay?

He grumbled, scratching his beard as he rounded the bed. “I’ll get a towel.”

You stayed put, as he seemingly wanted. Your eyes fell to his ass as he disappeared through the door to the ensuite. You pushed yourself further up the bed, positioning yourself in a more comfortable way as you heard the water turn on.

Jonathan reemerged, wiping his face with a damp cloth as he handed you your own. You sat up slightly, trying to keep any of the spunk on your stomach from getting on the duvet under you as you took the cloth. You wiped yourself down, grateful to get the cold, sticky mess off of your skin.

Jonathan turned down the covers on the side of the bed as you finished, holding a hand out and offering to take the soiled towel from you. You handed it to him with a murmured thanks, watching as he threw it haphazardly into the bathroom. You could hear it land on the tiled floor with a soft splat.

“Deal with it tomorrow.” He chuckled as he climbed into the bed.

He held the blankets up, making room for you to shimmy your way underneath them as he nonverbally answered your questions about whether you should leave. He pulled you to his side, giving you no choice but to snuggle into his side in a way you had only dreamed of. It took a moment of adjustment, finding the position where your bodies fit together comfortably, before you two settled. It only took a few slow blinks until you fell asleep in his arms.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @dihra-vesa @anaaaispunk @vonschweetz​ (the moment I notice I have a very short Oscar Isaac taglist lol)

#Jonathan (Scenes From a Marriage) #Jonathan Levy #Jonathan (Scenes From a Marriage) x Reader #Jonathan Levy x Reader #Scenes from a Marriage imagine #Lemony Fresh #WookieTales

[kikis-writing-world]

Every Pilot Needs a Wingman

Summary: You have been pining quietly over your neighbor for months. He hasn’t noticed, but apparently his friend has...

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Rating/Warnings: Smutty thoughts - grey sweatpants should be their own warning. Fleeting mentions of masturbation and sex toys. Swearing. Santi gives the reader tips on how to impress/pick up Frankie, I don’t know if that might come off as shady or triggering to people so I want to mention that. Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

You grabbed your keys from the hook beside the door on your way out, making sure to check that it was locked behind you. It was warm out, especially given the time of day. Walking out of your air conditioned house into the humidity felt like walking into a brick wall. Luckily you had checked the weather, dressing in a pair of shorts and a light t-shirt. You didn’t have to wear anything fancy just to run errands, so you made comfort the priority.

You heard your neighbor’s door open and even before looking, you wished you’d done something nicer with your hair. The humidity made it a little unmanageable so you hadn’t bothered this morning. You turned to see if it was the owner of the house next door stepping out into the midday sun, or a guest, but there was Frankie in all his glory. All of it.

You’d lived next door to Frankie Morales for just over a year, and most of that had been spent pining silently over the man. He was attractive, that you had noticed the first time you had seen him, but getting to know him since moving had made him all the more appealing. Those warm brown eyes that crinkled with laugh lines as he smiled. His big, strong hands that he used on his woodworking projects and home renovations. His broad shoulders that he would happily sit his daughter on for rides when he had her for his shared custody. He was not only devastatingly handsome in a fittingly “boy man next door” kind of way, but he was just so kind and funny. God you wanted him.

It took a conscious effort to keep your eyes from bulging out of your head when you saw him. Hair wild, dark framed glasses perched on his nose - that was a treat in itself, he often opted for contacts over his glasses. His lack of shirt let you see the sprinkling of hair along his chest and the darker treasure trail that started just below his navel, running down over the dip of the small tummy he’d gained with age. He often complained about being out of shape compared to his younger years but you loved any glimpse you got of it. The line of hair grew thicker until it disappeared under the waistband of his grey sweatpants. Taking him in, you didn’t know if the powers that be were rewarding you or punishing you.

“Hey Frankie,” you greeted politely. You’d more or less been staring at him, so you couldn’t play it off that you hadn’t seen him.

He greeted you back, his voice hoarse as he squinted in the bright sunlight.

“Rough night?” You guessed with a knowing grin. You knew the signs of a late night as easily as the next person, plus with Frankie usually being an early riser his disheveled appearance definitely had you thinking he’d been into some kind of mischief. You bit your lip, trying not to frown if you wondered if a woman was part of the mischief, a spark of envy flowing through your veins.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, running a hand through the mess of chocolate curls atop his head. Oh lord, his sweatpants dipped lower on his hips as he did. “An old buddy of mine had a fight. Went out with the guys after to celebrate.”

“Oh, that’s… Billy?” You attempted, trying to remember the name of the friend he had told you was into boxing.

“Benny.” He corrected lightly.

“Benny. Sorry.” You nodded.

When his back turned, reaching into his mailbox to get his mail, you allowed yourself the moment to check him out properly. The muscles in his back flexed softly as his arms moved. The dimples in his lower back called out to you. The curve of his ass just barely hidden beneath the elastic waistband. Staring at his ass, you wondered if he was going commando before you stopped yourself from following that train of thought. Stop being perverted…

He turned back around, shuffling the envelopes in his hands. You were lucky he was looking through his mail since your eyes were still aimed on his lower half as he turned. You’d sacrifice something to the gods of grey sweatpants as a tribute later. After the errands, and after spending some time with your battery powered friends as the image stayed in your mind. The pants were thick enough fabric that they didn’t bare all, but damn if you couldn’t tell he had a decent length to him.

You had fantasized about the man more than you’d care to admit. He was such a goodhearted man, you knew he would be a kind, gentle lover, but he also had this underlying masculine energy that made you wonder if he would go a little wild. Your favorite fantasies involved both, and now that you’d caught more of a glimpse of what he was working with, you could add even more context to your thoughts. How he’d prep you gently, sweetly, making sure you were ready to take all of him but once he’s inside he would lose himself to the pleasure and fuck into you nice and hard-

You forced your eyes back up to his face as you swallowed hard, knowing that you’d have to stop somewhere to get a cool drink as you drove around town.

“Anything good?” You asked, nodding towards the envelopes in his hand. It wasn’t any of your business but you wanted to keep the small talk going a little longer. A few more minutes in his presence.

“Junk and bills. The usual.” He chuckled, his usual laugh sounding even lower, raspier from the late night of drinking. Even with the glasses on, you could see those laugh lines you loved sprouting at the corners of his eyes.

“Damn. Being an adult sucks.” You laughed with him.

“Tell me about it.” He sighed. “But it does have its perks.”

“Like drinking all night and napping all day?” You suggested.

“Like that.” He agreed with a grin and a nod. “Just gotta kick some pendejo out of my house first.”

Your easy grin became forced at that. So he had brought someone home from the bar. “Another perk to adulthood, right?” Your laugh was a little strained this time, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Huh?” He frowned, his hungover brain taking a minute to figure out your meaning. “Oh, oh, yeah, I guess.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head bashfully. “Not last night though. Just my friend. He crashed on my couch.”

“Oh!” You hated yourself a little bit for the relief that you felt. He can sleep with whoever he wants to and it would be none of your business. “Not that I should have- it’s not really my business.” You mumbled, running a hand over your own hair to make sure it was behaving in the heat.

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved you off. “I’ll let you get going though.”

“Alright.” You were equal parts disappointed the conversation was closing and relieved you couldn’t dig yourself into a deeper hole. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, you know where I live.” He teased.

“That I do.” You smirked. “Feel better.”

He didn’t respond verbally, waving a hand at you as he turned to walk back up the path to his home. You moved around your car, stopping once you were at the driver’s side to watch him for another fleeting moment. You hated to see him go but you loved to watch him leave...

Forcing your mind out of the gutter, you focused on the mental to do list you had for the day, climbing into your car and starting the A/C as soon as the engine was on.

Frankie closed the door behind him, relishing the dark and cool of inside.

“Who was that?” Santiago asked him, making him jump. He was standing in front of the living room window, facing the street.

“Neighbor. Nice girl.” Frankie barely explained as he dropped the envelopes onto the side table for later.

“Just a neighbor?” Santi pushed with a grin. “She’s cute.”

Frankie shot him a half-assed glare, not having the energy yet to deal with Pope’s libido. The coffee he’d put on before stepping out was brewing so he instead followed his nose to the kitchen.

“She’s really into you, too.” Santi continued, following Frankie through the house.

That caught Frankie’s attention. “What?” He scoffed, turning to stare at his former teammate.

“Seriously?” Pope deadpanned, lifting an eyebrow at Frankie’s grumpy, confused grimace.

“She was just being neighborly. Making small talk.” Frankie brushed it off, turning to pull two mugs out of the cupboard.

“Neighborly staring at your cock.” Pope grumbled under his breath, in disbelief Frankie could be this oblivious. “Remind me again how you ever got far enough with a woman to knock her up?”

“Why are you this way? Who hurt you?” Frankie sighed, rubbing his creased brow to ease the pressure of the hangover.

“I’m serious, hermano. You wouldn’t know a woman was flirting with you if she gave you a fuckin’ lap dance.”

“She wasn’t flirting.”

“Maybe not with her words, but she was eyeing you like a damn buffet.” Pope teased. “Sausage buffet.”

“Get out of my house.” Frankie huffed, no real bite to his words as he leaned against the counter, holding his head in his hands.

Pope ignored him, picking up the coffee pot and pouring it into their mugs. He slid one towards Frankie before picking up his. The two men savored the first few sips of the piping hot coffee in silence, letting it erase the pains of the night before.

“Seriously though,” Santiago broke the silence. “You should ask her out sometime.”

“You’re still here?” Frankie shot back, eyes locked straight ahead as if no one was in the room with him.

Santi sighed, shaking his head as he took another sip of his coffee. If Frankie wanted to be difficult, then he’d just have to play dirty.

Later on in the week you were still thinking about the encounter. You couldn’t remember exactly what the two of you had talked about, but the image of Frankie stuck in your mind. Despite knowing that he was nursing a hangover at the time, you couldn’t help but imagine he’d look a bit similar after sex. Hair mused, under-dressed, a light exhaustion. He was missing that post-sex glow: the relief that shines through your skin, mixing in with the sheen of sweat that covers your whole body. That part you’d had to add in yourself in some mental editing.

You imagined Frankie walking through your kitchen looking that way. Like he’d thrown on the nearest pants he could find after sliding from the bed, scavenging for something to eat after working up an appetite with you.

God, I need to go out and get laid… you thought to yourself as you realized just how much of your mental capacity was taken over by the handsome man next door.

A knock on your door had you frown softly. You weren’t expecting anyone, you didn’t think you had any deliveries scheduled. You looked through the peephole to find out who was there. 

You didn’t recognize the man standing on your stoop. You looked him over, trying to gauge if you should open the door or pretend you weren’t home. He kept looking off to the left, towards Frankie’s house, which didn’t help ease your mind, but after making sure your chain lock was secured you decided to open the door.

“Hi?” You greeted cautiously, looking at him through the small crack the chain lock allowed.

“Hey! I’m Santiago. I’m a friend of your neighbor. Frankie.” He introduced with a smile.

Your stomach dropped. “Is everything okay?” You blurted out, worried. Was he okay? Was his daughter?

“No, no! He’s fine! Everything is fine.” Santiago was quick to reassure you. “I’m actually here to talk to you.”

Your frown returned as your brow creased in confusion. “Why? What did I do?” Your mind started racing, wondering what you had done to make Frankie send a friend over. Oh god, had you made him uncomfortable and now this Santiago was going to tell you to back off?

“Nothing. Wow, you’re nervous.” He laughed.

“A man I don’t know is knocking on my door.” You pointed out with a wry grin.

“That is true. I didn’t think about that part. Damn.” Santiago grumbled to himself. “I’ll cut to the chase then and you can decide if you want to talk to me or not. I know you like Frankie, but he’s an idiot. He doesn’t know you like him, but I saw you flirting with him a few days ago. I was inside, saw everything.”

You felt your face heating up in embarrassment as he explained himself. You briefly considered closing the door in his face and moving to Bora Bora.

“Since ‘Fish is never going to believe me and make a move, I thought I would come over, give you some pointers, help you make the first move?” He offered, voice pitching up as he questioned your interest.

You glared at him for a moment, considering the request as you tamped down your fight or flight instincts. Frankie had mentioned a friend stayed the night, and you had definitely checked him out hard.

“Give me a sec,” you mumbled, closing the door so you could unlatch the chain. When you opened it fully, you stood to the side and gestured for Santiago to come inside.

As you knocked on Frankie’s door a few days later, you started second guessing yourself. Would any of this even work? You didn’t know Santiago from a hole in the ground, what if he’d told you things to make you seem like an idiot? Or what if he told you things that Frankie hated, just so he would be sure not to ask you out? This was so stupid. You were about to turn around and walk away when the door opened.

Frankie’s eyes widened when he saw you standing on his porch. His eyes immediately fell to your bare legs before flickering back to your face. The small action gave you confidence in the plan as you started to believe what Santiago had said.

“Frankie loves a woman in a sundress. I know, who doesn’t? But he really likes it. Wear a dress that shows off your legs, and if you have any kind of strappy shoe, the kind that will make him notice your legs… yeah, that’ll get his attention.”

“Hey, what’s up?” Frankie asked as he leaned against his door jam.

“He likes feeling useful, likes helping his friends out. Ask him for help with something, something he needs to fix, use his hands. That kind of thing.”

“I noticed you’re pretty handy,” you started hoping he would take it as the compliment it was. “Fixing your fence, building the porch. Are you any good with plumbing?”

Frankie seemed to puff up a bit at the question, your confidence growing even more. “A little. I’m no plumber but... depends on what you need.”

“My garbage disposal isn’t working right. I don’t know if I did something or if I need to call a professional. Would you mind coming to take a look?” You asked, fluttering your eyelashes at him a little.

“He’s oblivious. I mean it. You could smack him over the head with a board and he probably wouldn’t notice. Don’t be scared to lay it on pretty thick.”

“Sure! Want me to come over now?” Frankie was already stepping out onto the porch before you could answer him. “My tools are in the garage, I can grab them and follow you over.”

“That’d be great,” you smiled brightly at him. “Thanks!”

You trotted down the steps ahead of him, heading towards his garage.

“Any chance you get to turn around, take it. He’s an ass man, and in a sundress… he’ll be looking.”

You resisted the urge to look over your shoulder to make sure he was watching you as you crossed the yard. You didn’t want to give-up the game, let him know you were onto him. If you caught him, he might get shy and draw into himself instead of being bolstered up into asking you out.

It took no time at all for him to grab his basic toolkit and follow you into your house. You led him into the kitchen and showed him the problem..

“Did you want a drink while you take a look? I’ve got beer.” You offered as he used a flashlight to peer down the drain.

“Once you’ve got him on the hook, get him a nice cold beer.”

“Th-that sounds great, actually, thanks.” He leaned up to grin at you before his attention turned back to the sink. You smiled triumphantly, fighting the urge to skip to the fridge. Grabbing two bottles, you took a moment to appreciate the sight.

He was leaned over the sink a bit, emphasizing his ass and his waist, but that wasn’t the part that appealed to you most… he was fixing up something in your house, and you’d be lying if you weren’t attracted to a man who could get the job done. Who wasn’t scared to roll up his sleeves and use some good old fashioned elbow grease. Before you could walk back over, he crouched down with a quiet groan, looking under the sink.

It was the perfect moment to return, standing next to his crouching form as you offered him the beer. He turned, face to face with the skirt of your dress. You couldn’t tell from this vantage, but it looked like actually licked his lips as he took in your legs from such close proximity before slowly looking up.

“Thanks.” He took the beer, taking a swig immediately. You hid your smile by doing the same.

Frankie sat his beer on the counter and turned back to the pipes under the sink. You set your beer next to his before hopping up to sit on the sink, letting your legs dangle.

“If you need anything, just let me know. I’ll be your runner.” You offered, waiting patiently as he inspected everything.

“Honestly, it looks like it’s just some loose connections. Easy fix.” He explained, setting his hat on the floor next to the toolkit before sliding himself under the sink. You grinned at the memory of Santiago helping you to loosen them.

“Really? That’s great.” You mocked relief at the news. “I didn’t want to have to wait for someone to come in and take a look then charge me an arm and a leg for some putty or something stupid. It definitely pays to have a neighbour who knows his way around a toolbox.”

Frankie chuckled in agreement, but didn’t respond otherwise as he worked at tightening all the joints you and Santi had messed with. It didn’t take him long before he was shimmying out from under the sink.

“All done.” He declared as he sat up, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Thanks Frankie, you’re a lifesaver.” You gushed, crossing your legs at the ankles.

The motion caught his eye and he turned, coming face to face with your legs. You watched as he once again checked out your legs, eyes trailing from ankle to where your knees just barely disappeared under the hem of the dress. He chewed on that full bottom lip of his for a moment before seemingly remembering himself, smiling up at you. “It was nothing.” He pulled his cap on, hiding under the bill as he finished tidying up his things.

“Still, I want to thank you somehow.” You insisted, hopping off the counter.

“You don’t have to.” He shook his head. “The beer is enough, I promise.” He reached up for the bottle, taking a few gulps to prove his point.

“Okay, it’s a bit of a thank you and a little bit another favor then,” you confessed.

Frankie’s eyebrow quirked up in confusion, setting the bottle back on the counter and sealing up his toolbox before standing back at his full height. You had been standing close enough to give him a view of your legs, and now that he wasn’t crouched down, he towered over you.

“And what’s that?” He asked.

“Fish doesn’t talk about it a lot, but he loves baseball. Doesn’t have a favorite team or anything, but this guy goes as much as he can. He likes the slow pace and the strategy to it. It’s relaxing after all the shit we’ve gone through.”

“I have an extra ticket to the ballgame next week. Decent seats, nothing crazy though.” You shrugged. “I was going to offer it to you, if you wanted to join me.”

His eyebrows shot up into his bangs, stuck still under the hat. “Really? The Rays game?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded coyly.

“I-I’d love to.” He admitted, face flushing. “I love baseball.”

“Really?” You pretended not to know.

“Yeah. Great way to spend a day.” He shrugged bashfully. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take the ticket if you let me drive.”

“I’ll allow it.” You teased, feeling emboldened enough to wink at him. You were pleased that it seemed to make him blush more.

“Great. It’s a… plan.” He hesitated, fiddling with the hat atop his head nervously, lifting it to smooth down his curls before repositioning it.

“A plan?” You repeated, grinning. “Sounded like you were going to say something else for a second.”

Frankie hid his face from you as he bent to pick up his toolbox, opening it once more to make sure he didn’t forget anything first. “I uh, I almost said date,” he admitted, and you could see the blush creeping up his neck. “I didn’t wanna be too forward.”

You waited patiently for him to stand back up, watching him avoid eye contact with you. You thought it was adorable, how sweet he was that he was worried about seeming too forward when you’d spent the day carefully leading him like a horse to water.

“A date it is.” You declared, smiled widening as you watched Frankie’s embarrassment make way for his own happy grin.

Bonus scene:

[4:23] Fish:  Idk how you do it but you were right [4:24] Pope:  I know [4:25] Pope:  About what? [4:26] Fish:  I’ve got a date with my neighbor next week [4:26] Fish:  She invited me to the Rays game [4:26] Pope:  Really? Nice! [4:27] Pope:  You sure thats a date? [4:27] Fish:  100% [4:27] Pope:  You’re the man 🐟 [4:28] Pope:  Half man half fish [4:28] Pope:  🧜🏻‍♀️🧜🏻‍♀️🧜🏻‍♀️ [4:32] Pope:  Fish? [4:36] Pope:  You ignoring me? [4:42] Pope:  Hello? [4:45] 🧜🏻‍♀️: HOW DID YOU CHANGE MY NAME?! [4:46] 🧜🏻‍♀️:  PUT IT BACK!

Tagging  @wickedfrsgrl​​ @din-damn-djarin​​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @kesskirata​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @vonschweetz​ @insideafictionaluniverse​​ @driedgreentomatoes​​ @computeringturtle​​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​

#Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales imagine #Frankie Morales drabble #Frankie Morales fanfic #Frankie Morales x You #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fic #triple frontier drabble #WookieTales

[kikis-writing-world]

Please may I request # 29 on the soulmate prompt list with Din pretty please?

Im getting bounty Hunter vibes for that prompt 🥰💗

I got this prompt from a few different anons, so thank you all! I hope this does it justice. I feel like this could easily be fleshed out into a longer, slow burn relationship fic, but as I'm only doing dabbles it got a bit condensed. I hope you like it! Also, I did no editing - sorry lol Soulmate AU prompt list here can be found here!

Din Djarin x Bounty!Reader Soulmate AU where you cannot say your soulmate's name.

The first thing you noticed about the man was that he was a Mandalorian. How could you not, when he seemed to be more shining beskar than man? The second thing you noticed was that he was a bounty hunter, which was terribly unfortunate and led to your third realization: He was there for you.

You tried to slip out the back door of the cantina, thinking there was no way the large, clanging metal man could sneak up on you. You’d been wrong. You gave chase, because who wouldn’t, but damn he was good. He caught up to you like it was nothing, wrapped some kind of grappling line around your ankles, and dragged you across the ground right back to him.

You stared up at him, breathing heavily. He made no move and with that helmet you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He’d caught you. Fighting at this point wouldn’t make him go any easier on you.

“Now what, Mando?” You sighed, giving in.

“Done running, Bounty?” He asked.

“Can’t seem to get away now.” You joked dryly, letting your head fall back on the dirt behind you.

Something heavy hit the ground next to you, dusting up the dirt in a small cloud. You turned, seeing a pair of binders.

“Put those on.” He ordered.

You did as you were told, securing the restraints on your wrists. Before you could ask for his next command, he released the line from your ankles, grabbed you by the wrists, and hauled you up to standing.

“Ship’s this way.” Was all he said as he pushed you forward.

He was a man of few words, this Mandalorian. You tried to make small talk on the way to his ship, but he rarely responded. If you were lucky, you got a grunt that may indicate a negative or positive response to your question. You let it be, again trying to stay on his good side.

It wasn’t even until you got back to his ship and he led you towards the carbon freezing unit to the back of the ship that you started to fuss.

“Look, I’ve cooperated. I came willingly. Once you caught me, I’ve done everything you said… you don’t have to do this.” You pled. You’d heard awful stories of hibernation sickness. You had no idea how long he planned to keep you in there or just how sick you would get when you came out. “I-I can clean, I can cook… please, I’ll behave just don’t freeze me.”

His helmet titled to the side. You assumed he was considering the offer. Eventually he walked away. You wondered for a moment if you were supposed to follow him or not, but eventually you did. He handed you a rag, a small pot that smelled of citrus, and removed his pauldrons.

“Shine those.” He ordered, turning towards the ladder to the cockpit.

You sat there dumbly for a moment before your brain kicked in. He was giving you a chance.

You shined them the best you could with your hands still restrained, which honestly was a damn fine job if you said so yourself. When he came down to check on you, after putting the ship in hyperdrive, he nodded in approval.

“Sleep. I’ll probably freeze you tomorrow, aruetii.” He warned.

The days went on like this. Every day, he would give you a task and every day you would complete it. After a few days, he even took the binders off while he was awake, replacing them when it was time to sleep or if he was leaving the ship. Every night he said the same thing.

“I’ll likely freeze you tomorrow, bounty.”

He never did.

“I’ll likely freeze you tomorrow, cyare.”

You travelled with him, waiting behind as he captured more bounties. Slowly the back room filled with carbonite-frozen criminals, the threat always looming.

“I’ll likely freeze you tomorrow, mesh’la.”

Day after day, until the last chit was tracked, captured and frozen. The only thing left to do was return to the guild and turn them in. You expected him to say something new on the eve of your arrival on Nevarro. Something about turning you in or a thank you for the help you’d been around the ship. However, you weren’t expecting him to say what he did.

“Good night, mesh’la.”

That was all. No threat of freezing, no mention of your destination or what he would do to you when you arrived. Just good night and one of those stupid Mando’an words he knew you didn’t understand. You assuredly did not have a good night, tossing and turning with the proverbial sword hanging over your head. You had no idea what would become of you the next day.

You were sitting in the cockpit with him when he brought the ship out of hyperdrive. Hands twisting in your lap as you nervously watched the incoming planet. When the anticipation grew too strong, you finally asked..

“What are you going to do with me, Mando?”

He was silent for a moment. If not for the subtle tilt of his helmet you’d grown so used to, you would have thought he didn’t hear you at all.

“Din.” He replied.

“Huh?”

“Din. That is my name.”

You paused in confusion. Obviously not an answer to your question at all, what were you supposed to do with that information?

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because what happens on that planet is up to you, cyare.”

You waited for fim to explain, but of course he didn’t. “Since when do you speak in riddles?! Just tell me!” You cried, thinking it was unbelievably cruel of him to play with your fate like this.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“My name.

“D-” you couldn’t.

You physically couldn’t. You pushed, mouthing the word before trying to add your voice but nothing came out. It was like the word didn’t exist.

“I can’t.” You admitted. Din nodded his head once, still looking ahead as he piloted the ship closer to Nevarro.

“You can’t say mine either.” It was a statement, not a question. Your mind was finally snapping the pieces into place. “That’s why all the nicknames. The Mando’a.”

He nodded again.

“So we’re…”

Another nod.

You were so confused. How long had he known? Why hadn’t he told you? Was this some sick game to him?

His metallic voice snapped you out of your thoughts when the planet was much closer. “I can land on the other side of the planet. There’s an outpost there, I can give you some credits. You can earn the rest and get a ride wherever you’d like. Or, you can hide in my bunk while I offload the bounties.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. Emotions were swirling through you faster than you could pick one to settle on. Anger, embarrassment, worry, fear-

“And then what?”

“Whatever we want, I suppose.”

You contemplated the offer. The man had captured you, held you on his ship, lied to you the whole time - you could hardly see the beskar through the red flags - but also during that time, you had gotten more than accustomed to him.

“No freezing?” You asked with a hopeful grin.

You barely recognized the sound of Din chuckling under his helmet. It was a sound you could get used to.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @vonschweetz​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @computeringturtle​ @spideysimpossiblegirl

#Din Djarin #Din Djarin imagine #Din Djarin drabble #Din Djarin fanfic #Din Djarin soulmate au #The Mandalorian imagine #The Mandalorian drabble #Din Djarin x Reader #The Mandalorian x Reader #Wookietales

[kikis-writing-world]

Soulmate prompt 26 for Agent Whiskey where it's impossible to lie to your soulmate! ✨✨✨

Thank you so much for the prompt! I love the idea of Whiskey not being able to lie because... well, he would have to do a lot of it in his work! I hope you like it! Soulmate AU prompt list here can be found here!

Jack Daniels x F!Reader

Agent Whiskey kept his eyes subtly trained on the VIP table in the corner of the bar. His target, James D’Aquino, was sitting in the middle of the booth. Friends of his sat on either side of him, each with a girl in their laps. The man’s body guard stood next to them, scanning the crowd for trouble. Jack averted his gaze to avoid locking eyes with the guard, taking a drink from his tumbler.

He was no stranger to places such as these. Gentlemen’s clubs, strip clubs, brothels, bath houses - all places he had gotten accustomed to fitting in. Even the reputable ones drew in the crime world, and this one was definitely a high end reputable business. The women never stripped fully, only offering tantalizing strip teases and dances that left them in fine lingerie. Beads, feathers, gossamer fabrics adorned their bodies, enhancing and emphasizing their curves. Even more than the beautiful women he was being paid to share company with, he appreciated the fine liquor in stock, including Statesman Reserve.

“Don’t you look like a lonely cowboy.” A sweet voice sang from behind him. A hand appeared on his shoulder, trailing down his arm as the woman attached circled him.

He turned slightly to watch as you circled him, eyes trailing down your form. The cinch of the bustier around your waist, the sway of your hips, the thigh high stockings and the garters - had he been a weaker man, Jack would have given into the spark of lust that shot up his spine. Somehow, he kept his cool and avoided making a fool of himself as you perched on the edge of the table in front of him. You smiled coyly, leaning forward to give him an ample view of your cleavage as you asked him for his name.

“Jack Daniels, at your service.” He answered in a slow drawl.

Your face lit up as you laughed, eyes crinkling shut in amusement. “And what exactly are you doing alone in a place like this, Jack Daniels?” You purred, voice giving away that you didn’t believe the name for a second.

Jack grinned, ready to tell you he was looking to spend some time with a lovely lady. It wasn’t odd for a single gentleman to appear alone in an establishment such as this. It was an easy, perfect cover but for some reason, those weren’t the words that came out of his mouth.

“I’m tailing one of the guys in your VIP booth.”

His eyes widened, his grin falling as he almost dropped his drink. Why did he say that?

You laughed again, tossing your head back as you did. Jack couldn’t even enjoy the way it bared your neck to him, your shoulders and collarbones… he was fighting the internal panic as he wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

“If you want me to leave you alone, you could just say so.” You giggled, standing up.

“Wait!” Jack panicked, gently taking your wrist in his hand to stop you from leaving. He still wasn’t sure what had caused him to share his mission with you, but there was no way he could let you leave now. You knew too much.

In the back of his mind, Jack wondered… even let himself hope a little… Why hadn’t he been able to share his cover story with you? It couldn’t be...

Spurred on by his touch, you instead sat on the arm of the chair he sat in, leaning closer to the southerner. “Alright, I’ll stay.” You promised with a wink. “I was worried I wasn’t your type.” You didn’t take it personally when men were interested in other girls, but there was something charming about this man. Something drawing you to him, wanting to know him better.

“What’s your name, sugar?” Jack asked, still holding onto you.

You fluttered your eyelashes at him, prepared to give him your stage name…

Your jaw dropped as you heard yourself tell him your real name. You’d never done that with a customer. Your stage name had even been what you were thinking of, so how did you fumble? You took a steadying breath as you tried to keep your cool demeanor. There was no going back now, so you’d just have to play along.

Jack noticed the falter in your seduction. He had seen your face fall, had felt your pulse quicken.

“You didn’t mean to tell me that, did you?” He asked, trying to squash down the hope that was growing in his chest.

Your eyes met his, wide and alert as you considered his question. You hadn’t, but how had he realized that, unless he’d already said something to you that he hadn’t meant to as well.

“You’re actually following that guy, aren’t you?” You whispered, leaning in closer to keep the conversation quiet.

“Darlin’, I don’t think I could lie to you if my life depended on it.” Jack admitted, releasing his hold on your wrist to take your hand in his own.

“A-are you sure?” You stuttered, biting your bottom lip as you felt the way his large, calloused hand fit against yours.

“Not yet, but I’m gettin’ an inkling.” He admitted, running his thumb along the back of your hand. “I’m supposed to tell anyone that asks that I’m in town for a conference, but I just told you why I’m really here. I don’t go spillin’ my secrets to just anyone.”

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dried out. You tried to think of a question to test him, something that someone would lie about, but you were drawing a blank.

“Tell me a lie,” he prompted. “Anything you usually tell your Johns, or just outright say something that isn’t true. See if you can.”

You bristled at that, sitting up straight as you pulled your hand away. “They’re not Johns. I don’t sleep with any of them.”

Jack held up his hands between you, in surrender and apology. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just want you to try lying to me. See if you can.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, scowling down at Jack as he waited, watching you patiently. His suave facade was gone, leaving a younger looking boyish charm. His sly grin was replaced with something more wholesome, his brown eyes glittering with a touch of hope.

“I wanted to go to school,” you told him, even if you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. “I was going to work here for a bit to save up some money until I registered but I never did. I was too scared to even apply. I… I’ve never admitted that to anyone.” You shook your head, resting a hand on your chest to ground yourself. “Even my friends, I just tell them I like working here. I hate it. These outfits are so uncomfortable and my feet are killing me.” You gushed, unable to stop yourself now that you were talking.

Jack chuckled at your admission, believing every word you said. If you were feeling what he was, he knew you couldn’t stop yourself from admitting that. He stood, grunting softly as his knees groaned in protest from sitting too long. “I think you and I need to talk some more.” He spoke as he offered you his hand.

You wanted to go with him, that unexplainable sensation of being drawn to the man was only growing. The flare of doubt in your mind faded just as quickly as it had sprung up, and you put your hand in his as he helped you stand.

“What about the guy?” You asked.

“Darlin’, you think I give a shit about some low life gangster wannabe when I just met my soulmate?” He teased.

The giddy feeling consumed you as he admitted what you were both thinking. You couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up from your chest.

“No. I don’t think you do.” You agreed, knowing there was no point even trying to lie.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @vonschweetz @insideafictionaluniverse @driedgreentomatoes @computeringturtle @spideysimpossiblegirl @thottiewinemom

#Agent Whiskey #Agent Jack Daniels #Jack daniels imagine #Jack Daniels drabble #Jack Daniels fanfic #Agent Whiskey imagine #Agent Whiskey drabble #WookieTales

[kikis-writing-world]

Pregnancy Announcement HCs

Drabbles under the cut for how Pedro boys would react to your pregnancy, and how you’d share the news. Trigger/content warnings: Pregnancy (both planned and surprise,) mention of abortions as an option, talk of contraception, smut (including cum play, cock warming,) mentions of PTSD and past drug addiction, mentions of dead former partners, blood, periods, doctors/obgyns, single parent/father not wanting to actively participate. If I missed anything, please let me know! Lack of editing as usual... 

Pics are for inspiration, not always an exact replica. All take place in a sort of modern AU where there might be a social media to post pictures to.

Dave York

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Dave already has a family and he made it very clear that he wasn’t leaving them for you. When you found out, you were terrified he would demand you terminate the pregnancy - heck, you considered it briefly yourself. You thought long and hard about your options even before telling Dave.

His first reaction was about as bad as it could get: he said nothing, got up and left. He returned a few hours later when you had already cried yourself hoarse. He held you in his arms as he spoke clearly and carefully. He asked if you wanted to keep the baby, and when he said yes he almost seemed torn. You don’t know if it was wishful thinking that he was excited to have another child, but you swore you saw a sparkle in his eye… of course, it wasn’t that simple.

He told you it wouldn’t be easy for you since he would never be with you like that - you were just the nanny he was fucking. If you wanted to go it alone, he would help financially and support you as much as he could, but he couldn’t claim the baby as his and risk losing his daughters.

You were going to have to go the single mother route, and if anyone asked you’d have to either say it was a fling or the father wasn’t interested in being in the picture.

Din Djarin

In all honesty, you were surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Din loved to cum inside of you. He’d lay with you, his softening cock still inside you to make sure nothing slipped out. When he finally did, he’d watch with amazement as your body twitched as it adjusted to emptiness. Gently, he’d push any dripping cum back into your fluttering hole. His deep, gruff voice was laced with exhaustion and lust as he would talk about filling your pretty pussy, not wasting a drop…

When you started getting ill, you at first thought it was just a passing bug. It was inevitable with all the travel that you would fall under the weather. Two weeks into the churning stomach, you realized you missed a period. 

When you brought it up to Din, he changed all travel plans - the bounties could wait, he had to get you to the nearest clinic ASAP. The test coming back positive had him glowing with pride. It was hard to convince him to wait until further along to announce the pregnancy, knowing anything could happen in these early stages. As soon as you gave him the all-clear, he did everything but shout it from the rooftops. By the time the picture was posted -your headgear, his helmet, and a tiny helmet between - everyone already knew anyway.

Ezra

It was a surprise, but not a shock. You and Ezra, although you tried to be safe, definitely had a habit of being caught up in the moment and forgetting certain precautions. A walk through the forest that led to a beautiful field of flowers, a picnic on a moonlit beach - there were times Ezra was so overwhelmed by your beauty and the beauty around him that he just got swept up. It was hard not to get swept up with him.

He was ecstatic when you told him you thought you might be pregnant. He could hardly wait for you to take a test. His knee bounced anxiously as you waited the 2 minutes, holding your hand tightly in his. The positive result brought tears to his eyes as he embraced you close but gently, already scared of hurting the baby. He saw it as nothing less than a blessing. He dropped to his knees as soon as he let you go, already talking to the bundle of cells, calling them his little shining star. The nickname sticks throughout the pregnancy, leading to a beautiful space-themed nursery and all events leading up to the birth, including the announcement.

Frankie Morales

You’re absolutely terrified to tell Frankie. You knew he wanted to be a father, but the two of you had talked so much about the fears you shared about being parents. Mental health, substance abuse, financial stability - it made the concept of “starting a family” overwhelming.

Your stomach rolled the whole time you waited for him to get home from work, little plastic test taunting you from the table. What if it set him off? He’d been sober for years, but you knew every day was a new battle. You were so consumed by your own thoughts, playing out how he might react in your head, that you didn’t even hear him come in.

“Are you…” He half-asked the question, eyes darting between you and the test. You couldn’t find your voice, only nod. The facial change in him was immediate: broad smile and wonder in his eyes as he laughed, scooping you into his arms. You clung to him just as tightly as he started laughing, too much joy coursing through him. As he started crying “holy shit, I’m going to be a papa,” how could you have possibly doubted he’d be anything but ecstatic?

You each tell your closest friends and your families, but you manage to keep it under wraps for the first months until posting your announcement and shocking everyone. Toes in the sand at the beach of your favorite camping spot, imagining the sandcastles and other games you’d be playing in the near future - it was everything you could ever want.

Jack Daniels

The two of you were religiously careful. You had talked about a family, but had agreed that until Jack was ready - which may or may not happen - you were going to prevent it. But life finds a way…

You find out much later than you would have liked - nearly 3 months in, you missed the whole first trimester. Looking back, there were obvious signs of pregnancy but you just didn’t think it was possible. You and Jack find out together at a doctor’s appointment. You leave the office shell shocked with a stack of pamphlets to consider your options and an appointment for next week. When you get home, Jack doesn’t even talk about it. You try to bring it up a few hours later, but he ignores you.

Finally, 3 days later, you can’t take it anymore. You feel like you’re in this completely alone at this point as you yell at him “ignoring it won’t make it go away!” Jack breaks down and tells you he’s so damn scared. He cries in a way you’ve never seen him cry, talking about how he wants a family with you but he can’t go through that kind of loss a second time. It nearly killed him the first time and he wouldn’t be able to handle it again. You talk long into the night about all of it - both of your fears, worries, dreams, thoughts - nothing is off limits as you talk about all the possibilities lying in front of you. Even through the fear and trauma, one thing is clear: you both want this.

It’s not easy, but your doctor helps relieve some worries. She speaks frankly to you about the development of the baby along the way and suggests a therapist that might be able to help, as well as classes you can take on parenting. It doesn’t take long for the worried “what ifs” to be paired with excited “whens.”

Javier Peña

When Javier Peña walked into your small town police station, you thought you were dreaming. Sent to help with a case that your rural forces didn’t have the experience to handle, he was only supposed to be in town as long as the case took. You never imagined you, just a lowly admin, would catch his eye.

It didn’t take long for you to tumble into the bed of his hotel room. And your bed at home. And your car. And his truck. And just about any possible surface in between. What you thought was a one night stand turned to three, then four, and soon into a full fledged fling. You knew the expiry date hanging above your heads, so you kept your feelings for the charming (if a little gruff around the edges) agent locked deep away. The case took about two months, and then he was gone just as suddenly as he arrived.

A month after his departure, when you found out you were pregnant, you didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t even left you his number, so you were sure he had no plans to see you ever again. Should you track him down and let him know, or just carry on with this on your own? You spent night after night talking to the growing baby, asking what you should do.

Javier ended up answering the question for you, when he unexpectedly walked into the station once more. He asked to speak with you privately before admitting he had missed you. He told you about trying to forget you, only to spend most of his evenings telling his father about you. Eventually you cut him off with a kiss, telling him you’re glad he came back. You take his hand, placing it on your stomach when you tell him you had been thinking about him too.

Javi helps you secure a transfer to Laredo and even though you technically have your own place, you’re spending practically every night with him anyway. If anyone wondered why the move, well the recognizable mustache on your announcement answered their questions.

Marcus Moreno

Marcus doesn’t believe you the first time you tell him “I think I’m pregnant.” He remembers his wife’s pregnancy with Missy, and you haven’t shown any of those signs. You roll your eyes and tell him that every woman and every pregnancy is different, but he still doesn't believe you. It isn’t until he’s staring down at three tests, all positive, that it clicks in his head he’s having a second child.

He’s excited, but he admits he’s scared. He’s older now, what if he can’t keep up with a baby? More than that, he’s worried about Missy.

You both know you don’t want Missy to feel left out or replaced by a new sibling. The two of you have a good relationship, but of course there were speed bumps to get there. She understood you weren’t trying to replace her mother. Would she be as understanding, knowing that you weren’t trying to replace her?

You and Marcus sit her down and tell her together. Before you can even start on your planned spiel about how the family is growing and no one is getting replaced, she is talking a mile a minute about having a little sister. You and Marcus share a relieved breath and lock eyes before you have to remind her that it might be a little brother. This seems to dampen her mood a little bit, but overall she’s still excited… even if she is adamant she isn’t touching any stinky diapers.

Another way you make sure to include her, is how you announce it to your friends and family. You’re sure, with Marcus’ status, it will get out to the public eventually, but you start by sending close friends and family a picture of Missy wearing a shirt calling her a “Big Sister.” She loves the photoshoot, making all kinds of faces as you snap away on your phone. Happy, sad, pouting, crazy… they all go in the baby book.

Marcus Pike

It was only a few months after your wedding that you and Marcus were ready to start a family. You didn’t “start trying” as much as you “stopped preventing.” There were a few false starts when your period would be late or the time you caught the stomach flu, but a few weeks short of your first wedding anniversary, you were pregnant.

Marcus spent many nights laying next to you in bed, hand on your stomach as he just stared at you - to the point where you actually started to get annoyed by it. He was amazed at your body changing, at the growing child inside of you, that he was finally getting the “happy ever after” he’d been looking for all his life.

The announcement was hilarious to shoot. Marcus and you were covered in paint splotches, laughing with love shining in your eyes. You held a palette Marcus knelt in front of you with a paintbrush, painting “Masterpiece coming soon” on your stomach where the bump had just started showing with the right angle.

Max Phillips

Max knew before you did, even if he didn’t put it all together. He started complaining that you tasted different, smelled different. Not just your blood, but as he spent hours trapped between your thighs. His keen senses had him identifying a change, but neither of you knew what change it was. After all, as far as you knew, a vampire couldn’t get a human pregnant.

Max whined when your period was late - he loved your time of the month. “Best of both worlds” he would say as he feasted on you for as long as you could stand it. It had happened before, your period being late due to stress or illness, but this time it wasn’t just a day or two. A few weeks later nothing had happened. A quick trip to your gynecologist confirmed it.

“I thought you said there was no way you could be pregnant,” she teased as she showed you the results.

Max was shocked, scared, and then proud as a pig in shit. He was terrified to be a father, but he hid that behind a swagger and a “yeah, I knocked her up. Not even death can stop these swimmers.”

Even if you did try to hide it for much longer, the vampires he worked with could smell the change in you too. Put together with Max’s protectiveness over you being ramped up even more than it had been… it was easy to figure out.

You took the picture as a joke - it was supposed to be a compromise that if you took this photo, he’d take the cheesy ones you wanted - but damn if it wasn’t your favorite of the bunch.

Maxwell Lord

You know that Maxwell had a bad history with family. First his parents weren’t as supportive as they could have been, and then his ex-wife had all but used Alistair against him anytime she could. You knew he may be nervous when you shared the news, but you didn’t expect him to turn into Maxwell Lord, television personality instead of your Max.

The first question out of his mouth was “is it mine?” Which broke your heart and set a fire in your gut. You threw anything you could get your hands on at him screaming at him for accusing you of cheating on him. You had just started to calm down when he mentioned lawyers and set you off again. You knew his past, but you truly thought he loved you and that you were his future.

You left, booking yourself in at a hotel. You didn’t leave the room - not only had you not packed anything and knew the paparazzi would devour a picture of you looking so disheveled, but you just couldn’t find it in you to go anywhere. You stayed in the room, ordering room service, watching TV, and crying. In a fit of rage, you had thrown the bottles from the mini bar across the room, needing to channel your anger and knowing you couldn’t drink your sorrows away anyway. 

He showed up a few days later, having followed the credit card charges to the hotel, looking remorseful. He apologized for the way he reacted, and you heard him out despite still being upset. There was a long talk in which you reminded him that you’re not his ex or his mother. You’re not trying to screw him over or get anything from him by having his child. It takes him a long time and a lot of groveling for you to truly forgive him, but you go back home that night.

A few months later, as the two of you take a picture on his yacht, both of your hands holding your growing bump, you can hardly tell the fight had happened at all.

Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand

Ellaria noticed before you did. A mother herself, she picked up on the glow in your skin, the change in your body, and the complaining about aches in your back or your breasts. When she pulled you aside and suggested you were pregnant, all you could do was blink. The three of you didn’t use protection with each other, only when others were invited into your bed. You’d never gone out of your way to prevent pregnancy, so while it shouldn’t have been shocking, it still caught you off guard. Ellaria brought you to her doctor, sitting with you while you found out for sure.

You were nothing but excited to share your news with Oberyn. You knew how he felt about you, about love and passion, about the children he already had. You had no doubt that he would love your child just as much as the rest of his daughters. The night you told him was spent making love while he waxed poetic about you, your body, your child... If you hadn’t already been pregnant, you’re sure you would have been at the end of the night.

With sand snakes spread across Dorne, you struggled for a way to tell them all. Sending letters didn’t seem to do the moment justice. This may be Oberyn’s 9th child, but it was your first and you wanted an extravagant way to share the news. 

Ellaria helped you to plan gathering all the children together. It wasn’t easy, but a month and a half after finding out, you had the whole, huge family together. You posed them all for a picture with you, Oberyn and Ellaria front and centre. You were handed a sign to hold for the picture - supposedly showing the family crest. However as soon as the picture was taken, you turned to show them.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ ​ @din-damn-djarin​​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @kesskirata​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @dihra-vesa​  @vonschweetz​ ​ @insideafictionaluniverse​​ @driedgreentomatoes​​ @computeringturtle​​ @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @thottiewinemom​ @mrschiltoncat​ @anaaaispunk​

#Dave York #Din Djarin #The Mandalorian #Ezra {Prospect) #Jack Daniels #Agent Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Frankie Morales #Frankie Catfish Morales #Javier Pena #Marcus Moreno #Marcus Pike #Max Phillips #Maxwell Lord #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand #pedro pascal character fanfiction #drabbles #WookieTales #Pregnancy HC

[kikis-writing-world]

Hi! Are you still doing the soul mate au requests? Could I humbly request #22 with Poe Dameron? Because I feel inmy soul the other end of that soul connection would be terribly bemused all the time :)

Thank you so much for the request. I really wasn't sure where to take this one at first, especially with fandom!Poe's reputation as a bit of a flirtatious playboy. I really do like how this drabble turned out though. It doesn't focus quite so much on Poe in a weird way though... I hope you like it anyways! Soulmate AU prompt list here can be found here!

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Soulmate AU where you cannot feel lust or sexual desire until you meet your soulmate. Trigger warning: allusions to sex, but nothing hardcore spelled out. It's a fade to black drabble, more or less. Also super unedited because I'm exhausted today.

You nervously adjusted your clothes, picking at invisible lint and smoothing out non-existent wrinkles. You had nothing else to do, nothing to focus on and it made your anxiety grow. All you could do was sit and wait- or drive your squad members on the ship crazy, but they were all nervous too. Rightfully so.

You ran a small squadron of resistance fighters. Too small in numbers to do monumental damage, but doing what you could to sabotage The First Order whenever possible. At least until recently. A small sabotage mission set to delay supplies to a First Order destroyer had gone wrong - or incredibly right depending on how you looked at it. The destroyer took heavy damage. Not enough to take it out completely, but it disabled it for the immediate future.

Apparently word of this mission had gotten back to the real resistance. They found your squad and you were being personally invited to their main base to meet with General Leia Organa. The General Leia Organa. Everyone was nervous, wanting to make a good impression, and you felt it ten-fold as the leader of the ragtag group. You had heard stories of General Organa. Her time with The Rebels in the time of The Empire, her place with the current resistance. Her leadership throughout the years as her home planet was destroyed, as she lost friends and loved ones. She was an inspiration to you, and now you were going to meet her.

You stared ahead at the ground in front of you, not sure if you would be able to keep your composure if you locked eyes with your crew. You felt the ship touch down on the ground, followed by the engines powering down. You took a steadying breath before standing, knowing you were expected to lead the squad out onto the hangar. The smoke hissed as the ramp lowered, blocking your view. You stepped forward, letting the smoke mask the moment between nervous and confident, making sure than when you stepped foot on the ground of the base that you looked like a true leader.

The hangar was busy, pilots and mechanics here and there, but you kept your eyes trained ahead on what you assumed to be your welcoming committee. Standing in the middle of it all, next to a golden protocol droid, you had no doubt was General Organa. The woman held such a grace and poise to her, you were sure it could be no one else. She began walking towards you and your crew, the group following her dutifully.

“General Organa,” you greeted, bowing your head respectfully. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Commander.” She assured in a kind voice. “Welcome to the base.”

“Thank you. The team and I are excited to be here.”

“And we’re excited to have you.” She looked past you, making eye contact with the members of your squad to ensure they all felt welcomed as well. You heard your squad mumble their thanks in turn.

“I’ll let you go to settle in in a moment, we can start with the formalities once you’ve all had some time to refresh-”

Movement over her right shoulder caught your eye, your eyes flickering to the person who had been hidden a moment before. Your eyes locked with his brown.

Heat.

Want.

Need.

It knocked the breath out of you. You nearly stumbled backwards with the force of it.

“Commander, are you alright?” Leia asked, a soft hand on your arm. She sounded so far away.

The man’s confident grin faltered as his jaw dropped, lips parting so slightly. You could see the way the pink flush crept up his neck. His long neck, leading to a strong jaw covered in dark stubble. You bit your lip, wondering if it would tickle or itch your skin if you pressed your lips to his. His lips. His pink, pouty lips- you nearly moaned out loud as his tongue smoothed over his bottom lip.

“Maker,” you sighed, deaf to the worried voices around you.

Strong hands on your shoulders turned you around. The burning desire faded, leaving only a light fog on your brain as you looked at your second in command.

“Commander, can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah.” You stuttered. “What… what just happened?”

“If I may,” a robotic voice behind you made you want to turn, but the hands on your shoulders kept you firmly in place. “My name is C-3P0, human cyborg relations. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication and I believe that The Commanders have just soul-bonded.”

“Huh?” You were confused, and the lusty fog in your brain wasn’t helping matters.

“Oh dear,” Leia sighed.

“Soul-bonded?” A male voice behind you repeated. He spoke slowly, like dripping caramel. Your eyes fluttered closed at the sound, a punch drunk grin on your face.

“Yes Commander Dameron. My databases suggest that when soulmates meet for the first time-”

“Save it for later, Threepio. Am I to assume you’re in charge when your Commander is… otherwise unavailable?” Leia asked.

“Yes, ma’am.” Your number two nodded.

“I think it’s best we push formalities for a day or two.” Leia’s voice was kind, soft, unpanicked. It was soothing in your confused state, but not nearly as soothing as the man’s voice. You wanted to see him again. You tried to turn once more but you were still being held in place. “I don’t think either your Commander nor mine are in any state to discuss strategy.”

“Should we send them to the medbay?” Your second asked.

Leia chucked. “No, that won’t be necessary. They just need time to…” Leia cleared her throat. “Get to know each other.”

“Are you sure-”

“I was there once myself. I promise, she’s in good hands. Commander Dameron is… he can be impulsive, but his heart is in the right place. He-.”

“Hey!” The caramel voice was back, making your knees weak. “Why are you touching them? You shouldn’t be touching them.”

You watched as your second’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the growl from behind you. You wanted to go to him, tell him everything was okay, soothe the anger in that sticky sweet voice...

“It’s okay.” Leia encouraged and the hands fell away from your shoulders. You were finally free to turn back to him.

His brown eyes were darkened, face flushed. He looked sinful. You wanted to see more. More of that sinful look, more of him. His clothes fit well, accentuating his lean body. You wanted them gone.

“I have to admit, it’s a treat to see Dameron so flustered.” Leia teased.

Dameron. That must be the man you wanted to ravish, be ravished by - Maker, you were so uncomfortably hot…

Leia cupped Dameron’s cheek, turning him to look at her. A possessive growl developed deep in your abdomen, somewhere in your sternum. Your fingers twitched, wanting to get her away from him.

“Try to make it to your dorm before you get carried away.” She sighed before releasing him. The possessiveness immediately abated. Leia turned to your crew, but you didn’t hear her words as she began to lead them farther into the base.

---

You couldn’t remember leaving the hangar. You couldn’t remember how you got to this room - you assumed it was Poe’s dorm. Honestly, you couldn’t even remember the exact moment he told you his name, the moment lost in a haze of pleasure, giving and receiving. How long had you been in this room? In this bed? In his arms?

You felt like you could breathe again. The need, the want was still there, but it was dulled. Pushed to the back of your brain. The same way you knew you needed to breathe, needed to eat, drink and sleep to survive, you needed him.

The room was stuffy around you, making the smell of sex hang heavy in the air. Your sweat slicked skin stuck to each other anytime you got too close, not that it deterred you from getting close by any means.

“That was… something.” Poe breathed, running a hand through his hair. It didn’t tame the mess of curls at all. The sweat, the heat, the amount of time you had spent tugging on it- only a shower would settle those soft curls now.

“Yeah.” You agreed, just as breathless. You weren’t sure what else to say. You’d never felt this before, and now you couldn’t imagine living without it. Without him.

“Did… did you growl at Leia? Back in the hangar?” He asked, a grin forming on his tired, flushed face.

“I think I did.” You admitted, feeling your face heat up in an entirely different way. With the deep-rooted need gone from your very soul, the embarrassment of your actions flared through you.

Poe took your hand in his, playing with your fingers before lacing them between his. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Great first impression.” He teased.

You whined, hiding your face in his chest. All the worrying, the effort to look presentable, all for nothing. None of it mattered when you and Poe locked eyes.

“Do… do you regret it?” He asked quietly.

You lifted your head, watching those beautiful brown eyes shine with worry. Of all the emotions you’d seen portrayed in those strong eyes in the short time you’d known him, worry was a new one.

“No.” You shook your head. “Do I wish I could have met you after meeting the General? Absolutely.” You chuckled, kissing him. “But I don’t regret meeting you.”

You felt the man relax under you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You dropped your head back onto his chest, yawning. You were exhausted.

“Get some sleep.” Poe murmured against the top of your head. “You can apologize for growling at her tomorrow.”

You pinched his side, too tired to argue.

Tagging @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @vonschweetz

#Poe Dameron imagine #Poe Dameron drabble #Poe Dameron fanfic #Poe Dameron soulmate au #Poe Dameron x Reader #Poe Dameron x you #Poe Dameron x GN!Reader #WookieTales #Yes I promise I'm still working on these #and the requests are currently still open too! #if you're willing to wait for me to fill them all lol #Also can you tell how much I love Leia? #Did that come through in this fic? lol

[kikis-writing-world]

Showed Up in Boots

Summary: Years ago you left Jack, unable to handle sharing him with  Statesman. Now that he’s retired from fieldwork, he’s coming back to see if he has a chance.

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Female Presenting Reader (she/her pronouns, wearing a dress. No name or Y/N used.)

Word Count: 3.2k

Rating/Warnings: A little bit of swearing. Touch of angst, bit of fluff. All that good stuff.

A/N: This kind of came to be by picturing Whiskey as the narrator of Friends in Low Places by Garth Brooks, but... well, you’ll see. Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“What’y’a mean?”

“This, Jack. The secrets, the days- weeks on end without seeing you, no word if you’re dead or alive. Out seducing god knows who with god knows what diseases-”

“June bug, you know I’m safe, and Statesman-”

“It’s not just that, Jack! It’s… it’s all of it.”

The silence hung heavy in the air, like the tears that clung to your lashes, sticking there before streaming down your cheeks.

“I… I don’t know how to fix this.”

“There’s nothing for you to fix. It’s my problem.”

“So what do we do then?”

His large hand was warm in yours. You could feel the calluses against your skin, further proof of the tools and the weapons he used to make a living, just reminding you of the heartache you were trying to force down. Just keep it in check long enough to make a rational decision, not an emotional one.

You gripped his hand in yours, lifting it to your lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “When… if you ever get out…”

“June bug, no-”

“I don’t see any other way, Jack.”

A deep sigh as your hearts beat brokenly, together despite the growing chasm of hurt between you.

“Will you wait for me?”

“I can’t promise that. You might never leave. You might never make it out alive.”

“You know I will. Especially if you’re waiting.”

“If that was true, I wouldn’t be leaving.”

The air was sucked out of the room. You both knew what was happening, where this conversation was leading, but that was the first time it was said out loud. You were leaving him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Blame it all on my roots I showed up in boots And ruined your black tie affair

The last one to know The last one to show I was the last one You thought you'd see there

Jack was nervous, and Jack Daniels was rarely nervous. Something about you had always managed to catch him off guard, throw him off centre until he was stumbling and clinging to anything he could while the world righted itself. Even after all these years, he felt the same.

He’d checked in on you from time to time. Misusing Statesman resources - not that anyone would dare mention it to him - to look you up, make sure you were okay. He watched you through grainy surveillance footage as you walked alone at night, waiting until you were safe indoors. Peered at the carefully edited social media feeds, wondering what was really happening behind the quotes and selfies. He kept his distance, but always made sure you were safe. As safe as you could be, without him.

He knew you still lived in the little bungalow. It had been your dream home once upon a time and he wondered if it still was. It had never gone up for sale or rent, and he may have pulled some strings in the background to keep taxes to a reasonable level. Even so, he double and triple checked the database before navigating his old Bronco down the suburban streets.

The tree in the front yard had grown, but the fairy door you had attached to its trunk remained. You’d redone the walkway, changing the crumbling paving stones to whimsical chalk walkway. It fit the tiny, picturesque home perfectly. He wondered what else had changed. If you had changed.

He knocked on the blue door, noticing the paint peeling a little around the door knob. You always said the spring humidity caused the paint to peel, making you touch it up every year. You must not have gotten around to it yet.

He knocked again, removing his hat and holding it in front of him. He picked nervously at a stray thread of the hat. Better to focus on that than the things you might say to him once you answered the door. He could only rehearse this conversation so many times before he went mad.

He knocked a third time.

“She’s not home, dear.”

He turned, seeing your older neighbor watching him from her porch. Mrs. Margetson. She was thinner than the last time he’d seen her in person, hair more white now than the medium grey it had been. He wondered if she remembered him or he just looked like another gentleman caller. Had there been a long list since… he stopped himself from following that train of thought.

He stepped off your stoop, moving closer to the woman. “Do you know where I might find her?”

“They must be at the church by now,” she offered. “I think the wedding is due to start about 1.”

Jack nearly dropped his hat. He could hear the blood rush through his ears, it all moving god knows where and leaving him in a cold dread.

“They were here maybe 30 minutes ago, getting their pictures in front of the garden. Beautiful.”

“Which church?” Jack asked.

“St. Peter’s, over on the rock.” She pointed in the general direction, but Jack was already gone. He barely had the mind to thank her as he raced back into the truck and threw it in gear.

The dashboard clock told him it was 12:50. That gave him 10 minutes to get there, if the wedding started on time. He’d never been to one that started on time. His own hadn’t, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Would yours?

The thought stole the air from his lungs. You were getting married and he was rushing to the church to… what was he going to do? Stop it? Sit down and watch? He’d gone over this day so many times in his head: what he might find when you answered the door, what he would say and how you might react. None of the options he’d thought up led him to where he was now, going at least double the speed limit and using all of his Statesman driving training to avoid rolling the Bronco or hitting anything.

The spires and bell tower of the church came into view ahead. It was quiet outside, no stragglers coming in late and the door was already closed. Glancing at the clock only for a moment, not wanting to take his eyes off the road at these speeds, he saw it was only a few minutes after 1.

He pulled up to the large, imposing Church - not at all the kind of place he imagined you getting married, but that was a thought for another time when he wasn’t trying to catch you before it was too late. There were no parking spaces, the front of the church taken up by a large black limo with the classic “Just Married” painted in the rear window. It made his stomach churn.

He pulled up onto the curb between the front of the limo and the back of the blue hatchback in front of it, smashing his right hand mirror on the way by. He didn’t care, he could deal with it later.

“Sorry, girl.” He grumbled to the beloved car as he spun her around in the grass. Turf and soil kicked up behind the car as he threw it into park as quickly as he could. He didn’t even bother to turn it off, let alone take the keys out of the ignition, as he jumped up over the door. The second his feet hit the ground, he ran.

Jack could hear the last few notes of an organ processional as he climbed the stairs. With the silence left by the ending music, the creaking of the door echoed loudly in the quiet antechamber. He hurried up the carpet-lined stairs to the second door, hoping it would lead to the cathedral. He pushed them open with all his might, barely stopping moving.

There was a collective inhale from the crowd as they all turned to see who was bursting into the sacred, special event. Jack slowed to a jog, panting as he ignored all the eyes on him to look at the altar. At….

Not you.

“Jack?”

The way your gasp echoed through the hall it took him a second to locate you, standing next to the bride.

The bride, which he recognized now as your sister.

It was your sister’s wedding.

Not yours.

You were the maid of honor.

He would laugh if he wasn’t suddenly overcome with just how awkward it was that he just ran into your sister’s wedding.

“‘Lo everyone.” Jack waved with one hand as he took his hat off with the other. “Sorry I’m late.”

Your sister glared at you and you floundered under her gaze, passing off her bouquet to the next bridesmaid in line. You picked up the skirt of your coral gown and rushed down the aisle to him.

“What are you doing here?” You hissed in a hushed tone, keenly aware that just about everyone you knew was staring at the two of you.

“I came to your house, lookin’ for you-”

“Why?”

“We need to talk.”

“I’m a little busy.” You pointed out impatiently.

“Yeah, uh… Sorry.” He grinned bashfully, nodding at an older couple nearby still eyeing the two of you.

“I can’t do this right now.” You shook your head, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “Today, of all days-”

Your sister called your name, reminding you exactly why you couldn’t talk to him right now.

“Go,” he gestured to the front of the church. “I’ll wait.”

You were torn. You wanted him to leave. He was the last person you were trying to think of today, with all the talk of love and romance and a fairy tale “happy ever after.” Yet, he was all you could think about when you had those fleeting moments to yourself. Now, almost as if your thoughts alone had summoned him, here he was.

You said nothing as Jack slid into the nearest empty pew, setting his hat respectfully on his lap. You turned your back on him, taking a steadying breath as you tried to ignore the eyes on you for the second time today - for all the wrong reasons this time - as you made your way back to your sister’s side.

As you walk back down the aisle behind your sister, the crowd clapping and cheering for her new union, you nod at Jack to meet you in the antechamber once the processional has finished. He nods his understanding, leaving you to finish walking with the rest of the wedding party.

The group of you head outside, sending the newlyweds away in the waiting limo. A few people are looking and pointing at the mess made on the lawn by the glaringly familiar black and white Bronco. You flush in embarrassment all over again, seeing the mess Jack had made.

With the limo gone, the guests start to disperse and make their way to their own vehicles. The reception will begin shortly and they’re all headed to the hall for a night of dancing and celebrations. You head back inside to find Jack.

He’s waiting to the side of the doors to the cathedral, hat still in hand as he seems to pick at it nervously. You use the moment to take him in, noticing the little things about him that have changed over the years. More wrinkles, mostly around his eyes. A new scar on his neck - you wonder how many more are hidden under his clothes. You shake the thought away, not wanting to think about Jack Daniels undressed until you get to the bottom of why he’s here.

“Jack,” you call, his name on your tongue feeling so familiar but so foreign at the same time. He looks up from his signature Stetson, taking a few steps forward to meet you in the middle of the room.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Margetson said wedding and-”

“You were at my house?” You cut him off.

Jack nods. “I was lookin’ for you.”

You sigh heavily, shaking your head as you look away for a moment. “Why?” You ask finally.

“I’m done. Done with the missions.”

Your eyes tear up at his admission. It’s what you had wanted to hear all those years ago, even if  you understood why he couldn’t. Your jaw sets as a hot flame of anger licks up your spine.

“So you thought you’d come back, and I’d just be waiting for you? What if I was getting married today, Jack? What if you were too late?” You bit.

He shakes his head, his face falling. “Then… then I’d let you go.” He admitted, swallowing past the emotion in his throat. “But I had to try.”

You turn away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself, almost to protect yourself from the man who still held your heart in his hands. Just because you still loved him didn’t necessarily mean he deserved your love, deserved to hold your heart.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” he continues. “But there’s younger agents comin’ up the ranks now, Statesman is in good hands so I know I can step back. They’ve asked me to stay on with the Distillery, and as a consultant to the new agents, but I’m done with the field work.” He takes a deep breath and you hear him take a step closer to you.

“I’m sorry turnin’ up outta the blue like this.” He apologizes, his warm hand touching your bare arm. It makes you shiver, your skin pebbling with goosebumps “Tell me to fuck off-”

“Language, Jack.” You admonish, keenly aware you’re still in a church.

“Tell me to leave if you don’t want me, June bug, and I’ll go. I’ll do what I’ve been doin’ all these years, but I’ll go.”

You couldn’t help but take the bait, looking at him over your shoulder through misty eyes. “What’ve you been doing all these years?”

“Missing you like crazy.” He chuckles sadly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Keepin’ an eye from afar, makin’ sure you’re safe, you’re healthy, you’re… happy.”

“You’ve been watching me?” You breathe.

He nods once. “Just to make sure you’re okay. I promise, nothing untoward.”

“I should have known you would be.” You huff under your breath, shaking your head with a soft chuckle. “You’re shit at letting go, Jack.”

“Language.” He teases, a small grin making his dimple pop. “But you’re right. I am.”

You bite your lip, turning your eyes upwards - both to stop the tears from falling and ruining your make-up, as well as searching for some divine sign of what to do. There is none: tears or signs.

“Me too.” You admit quietly, turning to face him.

Jack hesitates visibly, a far cry from the confident, cocky cowboy you were used to, but he settles a large hand on the side of your neck, his thumb sweeping gently over your jaw. “Am I too late?” He whispers.

You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed and the familiarity of it. You can smell his cologne, the same one he’d been using since the last time you’d seen him. You’ve missed it.

“No.” You admit softly, opening your eyes. You cover his hand with your own as you stare at those beautiful brown eyes, watching a glimmer of hope overtake the worry. “But-”

You hate the way that light snuffs out, but you need to protect yourself. “We can’t just pick up where we were.”

“I understand.” He nods with a sigh. He starts to drop his hand, but you hold it firm. He quirks an eyebrow questioningly.

“But we can start again. If you’re up for it.”

The smile spreads across his face faster than wildfire. It makes your heart flutter to see it after so long without him in your life. He pulls you close, resting his forehead on yours. “Whatever it takes, June bug.” He promises, his breath fanning lightly across your face. “I made you wait, and I’ll atone for the rest of my days as long as I get to do it by your side.”

You can’t help but giggle, your own smile matching his. Your nose brushes against his, your breath hitching in your throat as your lungs constrict. “Oh, I’ll be taking advantage of that offer.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less.” He agrees. He’s so close, you can smell the mix of coffee and mint on his breath.

“You can start-”

He cuts you off with his lips on yours, an insistent pressure built from years apart. You gave in, returning the kiss immediately.

You hadn’t been celibate while separated from Jack. You had dated, had a few flings, but nothing stuck. No one made you feel the way he did. You relish the kiss: the way his mustache tickled your nose, how his plush lips enveloped yours even as you both smiled into the kiss. It was everything you had been missing. Your hand naturally finds its way to the back of his neck, playing with the longer strands of hair at his nape.

“You were gonna say “start with a kiss,” right?” He jokes when you separate, leaning his forehead against yours.

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up. “No, I was going to say you can start by explaining to my family why you crashed my sister’s wedding.”

Jack groans, letting his head fall back as he remembers his entrance to the church. “Surely I’ll get points for enthusiasm when I explain I thought I was losin’ my girl.”

“Your girl, huh?” You challenge, but the smile you can’t wipe from your face gives you away. “Mighty presumptuous of you.”

“Try tellin’ me you’re not mine when I can’t taste your lip gloss, sweetheart.” He whispers conspiratorially.

You toss your head back, laughter echoing in the hall. Jack joins in your laughter, burying his head in your neck as he wraps you in his arms. You feel him take a deep breath against your skin, settling in like he’d finally made it home after being gone for years. You suppose he was.

You tangle your hand deeper into his hair, pulling him away to see his face. Sure enough, the pale pink glitter on his lips gives him away. You rub your thumb against his bottom lip to remove it, but he grips your hand in his, holding it still as he kisses your knuckles.

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupts the moment between you. You turn to see Clara, the older woman who works in the church office. “Sorry to interrupt, but do you happen to know whose jeep is parked on the church lawn? Is it one of your guests?”

You turn a scrutinizing gaze to Jack, watching as he tries not to argue that his beloved classic is not a Jeep.

He bites down his comeback, hanging his head as he admits that it belongs to him. “Bit of a misunderstandin’ ma’am. I do apologize. I’m happy to pay to get the lawn fixed.”

She hums, crossing her arms in front of her as she sizes Jack up.

Jack hands you his hat. “I’ll go square this away, then we’ll get you to the reception. I’ve got some groveling to do. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’ll be right here.” You promise softly, sealing it with a kiss.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @dihra-vesa @vonschweetz  @insideafictionaluniverse @driedgreentomatoes @computeringturtle @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @thottiewinemom​

#Agent Whiskey fanfic #Jack Daniels fanfic #Agent Jack Daniels fanfic #Agent Whiskey x Reader #Agent Jack Daniels x Reader #Kingsman the Golden Circle fanfiction #Agent Jack Daniels #WookieTales

[kikis-writing-world]

#12 with Frankie or #23 with Marcus Moreno (your choice) for the soulmates thing

Hello Anon! I'm so sorry this took so long, but I'm still working on the remaining requests in my inbox! This one is very short and a kind of angsty, but I like it as a little drabble. I hope you like it too!

Frankie Morales x Reader, Soulmate AU where you can feel when they’re in grave danger or emotionally distressed. Frankie's addiction is mentioned in a past-tense way, but is still something he struggles with.

You couldn’t sleep. Not well, anyway. Short busts. Half an hour here, an hour or two there. No dreams - thank god. You knew the things swirling through your mind while you were awake. You didn’t want to be living through them in your dreams too. It was like your own personal brand of torture.

It was supposed to be a few days. Fly down. Recce. Fly back. He called and said they were taking a bit longer. Then nothing. Just the bond throbbing, aching, twitching, burning.

You know something went wrong. Felt the pain hit the moment he felt it, you were sure. Felt the panic rise. A flash of light, like a migraine taking over your vision, gone in a second. And regret. So much regret. You could picture the way his hand would be twitching at his side. Could think of the way he would shake. Adrenaline pulsing, not enough. He’d want a fix, want to not feel this way- you wanted to hold him. Hold him close and help him through it. Distract him with jigsaw puzzles or a hike or a drive or sex or just lay in bed and talk through it-

But then it calmed, and you could breathe again. At least for a bit...

Until you woke up in a flurry of worry and pain and fear. You clutched at your chest, trying to catch your breath. You cried out, reaching for reality through the emotions and the sleep. The sleep crept away, leaving a dry fatigue in its wake. The emotions stayed.

You lost count of the hours, of the nights spent sitting up and clinging to that fear. The worry, the sorrow. The pain. It killed you to think about. Where was he? Was he cold or hot or dry or wet or alone or with the team or surrounded by enemies. You didn’t know. He didn’t call.

But you clung to it. The fear. The anger. The absolute gut-shattering sadness. You felt them all along with him knowing something went horribly, horribly wrong in Colombia, but feeling it all meant one thing. The most important thing. The only bit of solace you got as you breathed through the panic attacks, shaking on the floor, pulling at your hair.

If you could feel him, he was alive.

And as long as he was alive, he was coming back.

You just had to hold on until then.

#Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales x You #Frankie Morales drabble #Frankie Morales Soulmate AU #Frankie Morales imagine #Frankie Morales angst? #frankie catfish morales #WookieTales

[kikis-writing-world]

Passing the Test

Summary: Marcus finds a used pregnancy test in the bathroom trash... but it isn’t yours.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader, heavily familiar relationship between teenage Missy and Reader.

Word Count: 2.6k plus ~500 bonus scene

Rating/Warnings: Non-explicit talk of sex (parent/child safe sex discussion,) Pregnancy scares, discussions of having children, mentions of birth control, pills and doctors. Fainting. It’s tame in the sense of content rating, but I know these can be triggering topics to some. Take care of yourselves <3

It was a simple, normal Sunday morning… right up until it wasn’t.

Breakfast was wrapping up. Missy was picking at her plate, slowly finishing up her waffles as her teenage brain woke-up. Marcus had finished quickly, starving after his early morning run. You’d already eaten and were already started on washing up. Marcus dropped his plate off with you at the sink, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he thanked you for breakfast before taking off towards the bathroom to shower.

You didn’t hear the shower turn on as you expected, instead hearing Marcus making his way back down the hall to the kitchen.

“Uh… sweetheart? W-what’s this?” Your brow furrowed as you looked over your shoulder to see what your husband was talking about. His voice was small, almost panicked, and you didn’t know what would cause him to have that reaction. He was the one in the house who killed any bugs that showed up and you’d never had a rodent problem. You were wondering what he could have found in the bathroom until you saw the plastic stick he was holding.

Your breath caught in your throat, immediately recognizing the pregnancy test. As a woman, you’d taken them before. Accidents happen, sometimes stress or illness delays nature’s flow, you’d been there. However, you hadn’t been there recently.

You glanced at Missy, seeing it written all over the girl’s face. She was frozen, mortified. She looked like she’d forgotten how to breathe. To be fair, you felt like you’d forgotten how to breathe too. You looked back at Marcus, but his eyes had never left you. The loving, doting father hadn’t even considered the other option in front of him and honestly you didn’t know if you could break the news to him.

“Oh, uh.” You stuttered as you tried to wrap your brain around all the new information thrown your way.

Missy was sexually active. She was 17, it wasn’t surprising, but she hadn’t brought it up. You weren’t sure you had expected her to but you had tried to make it clear as she grew that you would be there for her if she needed a woman to talk to instead of her father. Not only was she having sex, but she’d had a scare. Was she late? Did the condom break - please lord, you prayed, let her be using condoms. Was she… You were too young to be a grandmother. A step-grandmother. Was that even a thing?

As you processed everything, Marcus crossed the kitchen to you while Missy had slunk down in her chair about as low as she could go.

“Did you think... “ He trailed off, his voice soft. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You opened and closed your mouth, looking for the right way to answer this. You hadn’t said anything because you’d had no idea someone in the house had taken a test!

“I wasn’t sure.” You mumbled, mouth going dry as you didn’t correct his assumption. One step at a time.

First, find out what the result of that test is.

Second, have a long, long, long talk with Missy about many, many things. Safe sex and hiding things we don’t want to be found among them.

Third… make brain work again? You had no idea where to go from there, but you supposed step three would become clear from the results of steps one and two.

Then, there was the issue literally staring you in the face. Marcus. The two of you had talked about children earlier on in the relationship as things grew serious. He told you that he wasn’t ready for more and you accepted that. You loved Missy and loved having a piece of her to share as you three became a family unit. The topic never came up again, so you just assumed Marcus didn’t want another child. You’d stayed on the pill and that was that. You always thought that if he changed his mind, he’d bring it up. It wasn’t something hidden. He saw your pack of pills on the nightstand that you took daily, and you’d even mentioned aloud a few times when you needed to get them refilled. There was plenty of opportunity for him to bring it up if he thought maybe you should go off them.

“You still could have talked to me. I would have sat with you or something.” Marcus told you, setting the test down on the counter to take both of your hands in his. 

You stared at the little piece of plastic, mentally thanking whoever was listening that Missy had splurged for the digital type. The word “negative’ sprawled on the screen, and you didn’t have to try to subtly decipher whether you were hoping for one line or two. You felt like you could breathe again.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” You shook your head. “Just late, wanted to make sure.”

You saw Missy gaping at you out of the corner of your eye, clearly surprised you were taking the fall for her.

“How did you feel? About the result?” He asked gently, this thumb stroking the back of your hand. 

“Maybe we should talk about this later,” you suggested, letting your eyes shoot in the direction of the teenager at the table, hoping Marcus would get that you’d rather talk in private. You’d also rather have a bit of time to wrap your head around everything that was just dropped on you.

Marcus’ eyes moved with yours, seeing Missy slumped in her seat making herself as small as possible. “Okay. We’ll talk later.” He promised, kissing your forehead.

You nodded in agreement and he squeezed your hands before letting them drop. As he left to take that shower, the tension in the room was palpable.

Missy started to speak but you shushed her, raising a finger in her direction while still watching down the hallway. “Wait til he starts the shower. Then we’ll talk.” You instructed quietly, glancing her way. 

Part of you felt bad for the girl, she looked absolutely mortified - and you’d seen her look plenty embarrassed before by her father’s helicopter parenting and bad jokes. On the other hand however, if she was old enough to need that test, she’d have to take this talk like an adult.

Neither of you moved until the shower started. As soon as you heard the water in the pipes, you marched to the table and sat next to her.

“I’m sorry-”

“What’s going on, Missy?” You interrupted the girl’s plea. “Don’t you dare lie to me after I covered for you with your dad. Why did you take that test?”

She stared down at the tabletop, blinking rapidly as she fought the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m late.” She admitted.

“How late?”

“Just a few days.”

“And how long have you been having sex for?”

She looked up at you, face turning red.

“No, no, no.” You chided. “You want to act grown, we’re gonna talk like you’re grown. How long?”

“Couple of months.” She mumbled, shrugging as she avoided looking you in the eye.

“Are you being safe? Condoms, birth control?”

“Condoms.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh, I beg to differ.” You huffed. “If you were smart you would have hidden that test so your dad didn’t find it.”

“I’m sorry!” She cried, tightening her grip on herself. “I was just so relieved it came out negative, I didn’t think...”

You took a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of your nose. You knew you needed to be smart about how you talked to Missy. If you were too harsh, she wouldn’t come to you in the future. If you were too lenient, she’d think a pregnancy scare at her age was no big deal and she might continue to be careless.

“Missy,” you started. “I really wish you would have come to me about this.”

“I didn’t want you to get mad. Or tell dad.” She admitted, still staring down at the table.

“You’re lucky he’s a definition himbo.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

She shot you a look, brows furrowed. “Nobody says that anymore.” She grumbled, making you sigh. Teenagers.

“That’s not the point.” You shook your head. “Missy, I wouldn’t have gotten mad. I probably would have asked questions, but I would have been there for you, helped you through it. I’ve been there, I know how scary it is.”

Missy nodded as you saw a tear roll down her cheek. You reached over and took her hand in your own.

“Did you only take one test?” You asked, which she answered with a nod.

“Okay. I’ll go out later today to get another, just so we can be sure. Then Monday I think we should make an appointment about getting on you some form of birth control.” You planned.

“There’s more than one kind?” Missy mumbled.

“Oh hon, yeah there’s a few.” You smiled gently, trying not to make fun of the girl for her lack of knowledge. “I can see if my doctor has an opening if you want, she’s really great.”

Missy nodded. You reached over with your free hand to rub her arm comfortingly. “Until we get that sorted, can you try to… hold off for a bit?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” She rolled her eyes, wiping away her tears. “This whole thing kinda scared me off of... it.”

“I wish that would last,” you chuckled, “but it won’t. Teenage hormones suck.”

The silence that settled between you two wasn’t wrought with the same tension as before. The tension this time was of nerves, you scared for your step-daughter and Missy shaken up by her whole ordeal.

“Do you have any questions, anything you’re confused about?” You prompted, trying to open the floor to her.

“Are you gonna tell Dad?” She asked quietly. So quietly you almost didn’t hear her.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you tried to think about it. One on hand, you didn’t want to be keeping anything from Marcus, especially when it came to his daughter. On the other hand, you knew you were lucky your mother had been around to deal with this part of your life. You would have been mortified having to go to your father for sex stuff.

“I won’t tell him,” you decided. The relief in the teen’s eyes was palpable, and she looked like she was going to cry again. “But you have to promise me that you’ll talk to an adult about things like this. You can always come to me, but if you’re not comfortable with that-”

“No, now that I know you’re not gonna tell dad-” Missy started, but you cut her off firmly but gently.

“Let me finish. I’m glad you’re comfortable talking to me now, but if you ever aren’t, please talk to your Abuela or the doctor, or a counsellor at school, okay? I know you’re 17 and you think you know everything. I was the same way, everyone is at your age, but an adult can help you with this stuff, okay?”

Missy agreed as the two of you heard the shower shut off. You fought the urge to sigh as you remembered the other side of this coin: the conversation you had to have with Marcus now.

“Why don’t you go clean up?” You offered, wiping away the rest of Missy’s tears with your thumb. “I’m already lying to your father for you, I don’t need to explain to him why you were crying too.”

Missy laughed a little at that, a small pitiful laugh but a laugh all the same. She stood, wrapping her arms around you. You were surprised, but you returned the hug.

“Thank you.” She whispered before running off to her room. The door closed behind her and it didn’t take long for loud music to start playing.

You slumped down, resting your head in your hands as you took several deep breaths. You gave yourself a pep talk in your head, convincing yourself you’re doing the right thing by keeping this from Marcus, and encouraging yourself that you handled the situation well. You went over the plan again in your head, pretty sure you had your bases covered to take care of Missy in light of the scare. Once you’d gotten her in with the doctor, you’d have a more in depth talk with her about safe sex and being responsible with her body.

You heard Marcus’ footsteps, soft against the carpet of the hallway carpet, before he paused at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked, coming up to rest his hands on your shoulders.

“Yeah, I think I just feel a headache coming on.” You told him, which wasn’t untrue. You could definitely feel the beginnings of a stress headache prickling at the edges of your consciousness.

Marcus’ large hands started massaging your shoulders, making you groan softly in delight.

“Is it because…” He trailed off, but he didn’t need to continue for you to know he meant the test. He’d probably been thinking about it the whole time he was in the shower, and it was probably best to get this conversation out of the way rather than to let it fester. You nodded, letting him know it was - which wasn’t a lie.

His hands stopped massaging your shoulders, running up and down your arms a few times before he sat next to you in the chair Missy had just vacated.

“I’m sorry you went through that alone,” he started, taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. It made you smile at his sweetness.

“It was my choice. I’m sorry I kept it from you.” You knew at this point the two of you were having two different conversations, you were apologizing for keeping Missy’s secret from him but you did truly believe it to be the right decision. At least for now. Maybe someday when she’s older and out of the house, you’d tell him and laugh.

“We’ve never really talked about it. Not since the beginning.” Marcus got a faraway look in his eyes and you knew he was remembering the date you two had been on when the conversation was had.

“Yeah, but that’s okay.” You squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the now. “I like what we have.”

Marcus frowned, his deep brown eyes filled with worry not unlike Missy’s had been minutes before. “Are you sure? I saw the test and… I just suddenly felt like I was holding you back. If that’s something you want, we should discuss it.”

“And if it was something I felt strongly about, I would have brought it up.” You promised him. You knew right from the start of your relationship he was worried about holding you back. You were younger than him with the world at your feet. He was a widowed single father with a young daughter and a career in fighting supervillains and aliens. He didn’t just have baggage, he had a storage locker of issues.

“Alright.” Marcus sighed, but you could still see the trepidation in his eyes. You smiled at him, pulling him into a kiss.

“Don’t worry babe, I don’t think I could handle another teenager.” You teased. Today was probably one of the most difficult moments you’d had as a step-mother aside from the initial growing pains of your relationship with Missy, but you’d all survived it.

Marcus laughed and you were happy to see a joyful sparkle replace the worry in his eyes. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He glanced towards Missy’s room where her loud music was still blaring. He shook his head before standing, picking up Missy’s abandoned plate. You expected him to take it to the sink but he stopped behind you, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Although, they’re really stinkin’ adorable when they’re babies.” He confessed, shocking you into silence. He kissed the side of your head and moved to the sink to wash Missy’s plate.

Or it could have gone something like this...

You were sitting at the edge of your bed, stretching as you woke up for the day. Marcus had opened the curtains a crack before he left for his run and you could see it was going to be a beautiful day out. You stood slowly, unrolling your spine as you got your balance.

You heard the front door open and close. You must have slept in later than you’d meant to since you usually had breakfast ready by the time Marcus got back from his run. Or he’d left earlier than usual. Either way, that just meant he could shower while you were cooking. You blinked your bleary eyes as you crossed to your dresser for some lounge clothes to wear. You were in one of Marcus’ old t-shirts and your underwear and figured you’d at least put some pants on before leaving the room.

You could hear him through the hall as he made his way to the bathroom, his footsteps falling a little heavier on the carpet after exerting himself, still panting lightly. You yawned away the sleep, struggling to keep your balance as you pulled a pair of plaid shorts up your legs. You’d just gotten them over your hips when the door opened.

You looked up, seeing Marcus still sweaty and flushed from his run. He was staring at something in his hand looking completely confused. You furrowed your brows, trying to focus on the small object as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

“Uh… sweetheart? W-what’s this?” He asked, holding it up for you to see. It took you a moment to register what the thin stick of plastic was.

“That’s not mine.” You defended. You were on the pill and hadn’t had any recent scares. If you had, you would have shared that with Marcus. But if it wasn’t yours...

Your eyes widened as your sleep-addled brain caught up to the real world. It felt like your heart stopped. Marcus seemed to have made the connection just before you did as he stared down at the test in terror.

“Marcus sweetie, it’s probably not what we think,” you tried to calm him as he turned bright red.

“No. N-no, no, no.” He stuttered, unable to take his eyes off it as his breathing started coming quicker and quicker.

“Marcus, you need to breathe. Relax.” You begged as you watched the emotions crossing his face at a dizzying pace. Fear, anger, confusion, hurt, anger again-

“Missy?” He squeaked pathetically, looking up at you in panic.

“She’s not a kid anymore, Marcus.” You offered pathetically. You knew Marcus would always see Missy as his little girl despite the fact that she was in her late teens. You’d had no idea she was sexually active but if she’d taken a pregnancy test that pretty much spoke for itself.

“But she-” He whimpered, shaking his head as he stared at the test. 

You bit your lip, searching for the words to help him accept this. You hadn’t even seen the test result yet, so you had no idea how big the problem was about to be.

You watched as his eyes unfocussed, nearly crossing before they rolled back. If you were awake, you would have anticipated what happened next. Since you weren’t, you watched helplessly as Marcus face planted in front of you, passed out from the shock of his teenage daughter taking a pregnancy test.

So much for a relaxing Sunday.

A/N: I ended the “first ending” there so that each reader could decide if the conversation that followed would be “wait, we want kids? Let’s go!” or “Haha, babies can be cute as long as they’re not mine!” So feel free to let your imagination wander.

Tagging @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @dinthisisthe-wayson​ @vonschweetz​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @computeringturtle​

#Marcus Moreno x Reader #Marcus Moreno drabble #Marcus Moreno fic #Marcus Moreno x You #Marcus Moreno x F!Reader #Marcus Moreno imagine #WookieTales

[kikis-writing-world]

Soulmate prompt for Frankie

“You have dreams of your soulmate as they were in a past life, giving you hints that lead you to them in present day”

:)

Thank you for the prompt! I have a few different requests for this AU, so I took this one of the two ways I can see it going: your soulmate’s past life acts almost as a guide. You can interact with them, but they only have so much knowledge they can share with you. I kept Frankie’s past life description a little vague, only due to my onw lack of historical knowledge, but I picture him as having fought in the Chilean War of Independence. I hope you like it! Soulmate AU prompt list here can be found here!

Frankie Morales x Reader TW: mentions of blood/injury. A tiny, harmless fender bender.

You were surrounded by darkness, but you were far from scared. So many of your dreams started like this. Dark, dense nothingness surrounded you, but you knew the light would come… and there it was. You walked towards the flickering fire, drawn to it like a moth. But no, it wasn’t the fire you were drawn to, it was the person you knew would be sitting fireside.

The closer you got to the flame, the more details were noticeable in the darkness. Trees. Tents. A familiar horse. It was always the same. The man, dressed in an unfamiliar uniform with his hat set on his knee, was waiting for you just as you knew he would be.

“There you are, dulzura.” The man greeted in his thick accent, smiling up at you as you reached the ring of light.

“You’ll have to tell me eventually what that means.” You teased, sitting on the log across from him. You wanted to get closer, wanted to feel him next to you, but you already knew he wasn’t real. Trying to touch him was like trying to grab a handful of mist.

“He will tell you when the time is right.” He answered cryptically.

“But… How long is that going to take?” You asked, frowning as you focused on the fire. “I’ve been looking so long.”

“Now, now, mi corazon. We both know these things happen when the time is right.” He tutted, his voice soft despite his appearance. You knew if you looked closely enough in the dim lighting, there was dirt and dried blood on his uniform, belonging to him and to others. Injuries littered his body, most noticeably a scrape on his left jaw and a stab wound below his right shoulder. The shoulder was what had ended this version of his life, you knew. He wasn’t able to tell you the significance of the injury to his jaw.

“Can’t you give me any more information?” You begged, leaning in closer to the light, to him.

The man sighed, running a hand through his hair, once coiffed but having become disheveled in battle. You didn’t know exactly how it worked, what information he could actually give you. You knew he wasn’t holding out on you for fun. It was almost like he didn’t have the answers either.

“Look to the cielo. The sky.” He explained before turning his eyes skyward. You followed his gaze, looking up at the twinkling stars. “I don’t understand but… he can fly.”

“Fly?” You wondered aloud. “Like, in a plane?”

“I don’t know, dulzura. Lo siento.” He sighed. “I’d tell you more if I could.”

You nodded. “I know. It’s okay.”

“Your time is coming, amor. It will be soon.” He promised.

“You always say that.” You rolled your eyes with a teasing smile.

He chuckled, the dimple on his right cheek showing through his boyish grin. “And every minute is a minute closer, so I’m not wrong.”

---

The newest hint from your dreams stuck in your mind for days. You wondered over and over what the man had meant when he said your soulmate could fly. You spent hours, lost in your own mind as you tried to think of ways man could fly. He could work in aviation, or be an astronaut. He could be a magician who levitates, but you really hoped that wasn’t the case. Knowing he was a soldier in a past life, you had to wonder if he had gone down that path in this life as well. Did he jump out of planes, parachuting down into enemy territory? Was he a fighter pilot? Was the man by the fire full of shit?

Stuck in traffic was probably not the place to get lost in these thoughts. Sure, it was slow moving, but keeping your eyes on the road was important. You knew this, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Hearing the helicopter overhead, reporting the traffic back to news stations, only made your mind wander more.

“He can fly.”

Your car lurched as you bumped into the truck ahead of you, not realizing it had stopped. Your seatbelt locked and you gripped the steering wheel, shocked from the sudden jolt.

“Shit! Fuck!” You cursed, rubbing your forehead. It was your own damn fault from keeping your head in the clouds instead of on the road. The truck put on it’s turn signal, signaling they were going to pull onto the shoulder of the road. You followed suit, knowing you had to take responsibility for you stupid mistake. 

It took a minute for the traffic to move enough that the two of you could make it all the way over. You put on your hazards before carefully stepping out of the car, being cautious of the moving traffic.

“Shit, I am so sorry-”

“Is everyone okay-”

The two of you started talking at the same time, but you both stopped short just as quickly. Your jaw dropped, as did his, as you locked eyes. It was him.

Same face, although maybe a bit older and scruffier. Same hair, stuffed under a ballcap. Same brown eyes, same strong nose. The beard was new, but that was likely due to the style changing over time. Still, the patch where his hair didn’t seem to grow was exactly where that scrape usually was.

“It’s you.” He breathed, breaking out of his stupor first. His slack-jawed look of shock gave way to a grin, that familiar dimple showing.

“Oh my god…” You gasped, slapping both hands over your mouth in shock. You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you looked him over. He was so familiar, yet so different.

“Are- are you okay?” He asked, remembering the accident that had you two meeting in the first place.

“I’ve never been better.” You admitted with a laugh.

He chuckled, taking a few long strides towards you. With his long legs, that’s all it took to close the gap between you. He held his hand out for you, introducing himself. “Francisco. Uh, most people call me Frankie.”

His hand was warm in yours, callused from hard work. It was jarring after years of trying to touch the man in your dreams, to finally feel his hand in yours. You were so in awe of the feeling that you almost forgot to give him your name in return.

A car honked nearby, reminding you that you were still parked on the shoulder of the highway. Frankie flushed, seemingly remembering himself as well.

“Can I take you to dinner?” He asked, gently ushering you closer to your vehicles and away from the traffic.

“Of course. When?” You agreed immediately.

“Um, are you busy now?” He grinned shyly.

You smiled, shaking your head. “No.”

“I think I know a place not too far. Did you want to follow me?” He suggested, gesturing to your car.

In all honesty, you wanted to say screw it and hop into his truck. You didn’t want to spend another second away from the man you’ve been searching your whole life for. The man from your dreams - Francisco, you supposed - words rang through your head. “Every minute is a minute closer.”

You nodded. “Drive fast.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @vonschweetz​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @computeringturtle​ @spideysimpossiblegirl

#Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales drabble #Frankie Morales imagine #Frankie Morales Soulmate AU #frankie catfish morales #Francisco Morales #francisco catfish morales #WookieTales

[kikis-writing-world]

Doing Business

Summary: You really want to go shopping with Maxwell’s credit cards, if only he would listen to you long enough.

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Rating/Warnings: SMUT! “Daddy” and “Baby” are both used quite a bit, in a sugar daddy/sugar baby sense. Oral sex (M receiving.) Is there a warning for being on the phone while being serviced? Is that a thing? No beta/editing as usual.

I’ve never really written the “daddy/baby” kind of thing, but I just feel like it fit here. Sorry if it’s not your cup of tea. Reader and Maxwell are in a consenting Sugar Daddy/Baby relationship (although I think they have feelings way deeper than just that, but that’s just me.) Enjoy! This is for the anon that came into my ask box weeks ago (sorry eek) talking about Sugar Daddy!Maxwell.

You push open the door to Maxwell’s home office, peeking your head inside. He’s sitting behind his big mahogany desk, phone to his ear. He’s hunched forward in his chair, clearly stressed by the phone call he’s currently taking part in. You know he probably doesn’t want to be disturbed by his posture, but at the same time you really wanted to go shopping.

“Daddy?” You coo, batting your eyes coquettishly at him.

He glances up at you, your request having clearly pulled some of his attention from the call. You rarely call him that unless you want something. When it came out of nowhere, it usually meant you were horny or needed money.

He pulls the receiver away from his mouth, covering it with his hand just long enough to utter “I’m on the phone, baby” before returning to the call.

You can’t help but pout. You step into the room and close the door behind you, leaning back against it. He isn’t looking at you, his attention drawn back to the person on the line, but you try to look as appealing as possible as you wait. Biting your lower lip, watching him through your lashes, tugging the skirt just a touch higher over your thighs.

He doesn’t notice. Instead he begins to yell into the phone about stocks. You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. This wouldn’t do.

You cross the room, placing your palms on his desk and leaning forward, trying to give him ample view of your cleavage. You even use your arms to push your breasts together enticingly. “Daddy, I’ll make it worth-”

He shoots you a glare and the words die on your tongue. You plop backwards into the chair on the other side of the desk, pouting once more at being ignored. You sigh, playing with the hem of your skirt as you wait.

You try to wait patiently, you really do, but you never were good at patience. Something Maxwell knows very well with how quickly you start to beg and plead when he teases. You grin as an idea comes to mind, slipping down off the chair and out of his sight. You’re sure he doesn’t even notice as you crawl around the desk.

You’re positive you’re right when you touch his thigh and he jumps, not expecting you to be on the floor next to him. Instead of a glare, he looks surprised. Curious almost. You smile at him as you massage his thigh through his soft trousers.

“One moment,” he instructs through the phone before giving you his full attention for the first time since you walked into the room. “I told you I’m on the phone, baby.” He warns, his tone almost melodic.

“I know, but-”

“Whatever it is can wait.” He leaves no room for argument as he returns to his call. You’re getting annoyed now. In the time he’s telling you to wait, he could have easily listened to and fulfilled your request for one of the many plastic cards in his wallet. You wished he kept it in his front pocket. It would be so easy to slip out without bothering him.

You continue massaging his thigh, which he steadfastly ignores. You shimmy closer and closer to him, and while he’s making a point of not looking at you, at not rewarding your bratty behaviour with any attention, you do notice that his tone is growing softer with whichever employee was receiving his wrath today.

You’re close enough that it’s impossible for him to hide the twitch of interest hiding in his pants as your fingers sneak higher up his thighs. It’s all the motivation you need to continue on your path, eeking closer and closer to his zipper.

Your tongue sticks out in concentration as you unzip his fly slowly. Painfully slow by your standards. You hold your breath, hearing each individual tooth as it releases from it’s other half. You chance a glance up in his direction but he’s still ignoring you.

You grin triumphantly when the zipper is low enough. You can see the way his briefs are tenting, hear that his breathing has gotten deeper. You resist the urge to giggle as you slip your hand inside his zipper.

His hand is in your hair suddenly, pulling your head back to look up at him. You gasp at the sudden pull, your hand frozen on his stiff cock. You feel it jump under your palm at the noise you make as you blink up at him in surprise.

“Jones, hold please.” His tone betrays nothing of what is happening on this end of the line. With the hand still holding the receiver, he presses a button on the phone before dropping it to the desk.

“I told you,” his voice is deep and dangerous. You can’t help the shiver it causes to roll through your body. “That I was on the phone.”

You take a deep, steadying breath as you resolve to stick to the role you’d created. It would be easy to give in now, apologize and ask for forgiveness for interrupting his business - but that wouldn’t get you any closer to your goal.

“So stay on the phone.” You shoot back, squeezing his length. He groans, his fingers twitching in your hair. “I’m not stopping you.”

You see the conflict in his eyes, debating whether to stop you or let you go. Before he has a chance to make up his mind, you try to make it or him by slipping his erection out of his pants. It’s hot and heavy in your hand, and you break eye contact with Maxwell to look at it. You can’t help but lick your lips as you see the bead of precum dribble out of the tip.

The hand in your hair pushes you forward, towards him. Your grin is short lived as you start licking his shaft, not wanting to waste time and have him change his mind. You hear him moan, feel him shudder at the first contact of your warm, wet tongue.

You trace the vein along the underside of his length. You lave the curves of his frenulum. You swirl around the head before flicking your tongue against the slit. He hisses as you moan, the taste of precome coating your tongue.

You’re pressing your lips to the head, wet kisses along his skin and not quite taking him into your mouth, when you hear him return to his phone call. You pay his words no mind, focusing on pleasuring him. Listening for the minute hitches in his breath or changes in his tone.

Taking him between your lips, you suck at his head as your tongue twirls. His fingers tighten in your hair as he pushes you farther down his length. You hollow out your cheeks, sucking on him as your head bobs up and down, taking more of him each time.

Your hands knead his inner thighs as your saliva drips down his cock, the fabric of his pants turning dark with the wetness. You pull off of him, only to let a slow dribble of spit fall from your lips and add to the sloppy mess you’re making. His hips cant up against you as you take him back into your mouth.

You feel him pulsing against your tongue, making your own hips wiggle in excitement. Ulterior motives aside, this was definitely turning you on. You could feel the wetness pooling between your own thighs, and the sale at your favorite store was the only thing stopping you from climbing into his lap right here and now.

How voice is growing louder as he shouts over the phone, but you can hear the strain to it. Can feel the way his hips thrust slightly to meet your motions. You know he’s close.

You take him as deep as you can, choking slightly as your throat accommodates his girth. You look up at him through your lashes, seeing his eyes squeezed shut, his grip so tight on the phone his knuckles are turning white. You ignore the tears pooling in your eyes, swallowing around him.

He shudders, a long drawn out sigh leaving his lips as he explodes. His hot cum shoots down your throat and you struggle to swallow it all down. You close your eyes at the tangy, salty taste, focusing on not wasting a drop.

When he’s done you pull back enough to gasp for air but are resolved to lick him clean before putting him away. His cock twitches, his blood leaving the organ after his release and the nerves on the verge of over stimulation. You don’t stop until his hand loosens in your hair, sitting back on your haunches as you gently tuck him back inside his pants. The only evidence you were even there is the dark patch your drool left around his fly.

Maxwell is humming negative and affirmative responses to the man on the phone, and you can’t help but feel pride that you reduced him to nonverbal answers. You nuzzle his thigh, trying to silently connect with him as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm. His hand falls to your hair, not gripping this time but lovingly caressing.

He taps your head once he’s caught his breath, and you sit back up. He leans over in his chair, digging into his back pocket and pulling out his thick leather wallet. He opens it, pulling out his platinum card and handing it to you.

You take it, smiling broadly as you bounce up onto your feet. You kiss him on the cheek and turn to bound out of the room but he catches your wrist.

“Just a moment,” he tells the man on the line. He moves the phone away from him for a moment and pulls you into a searing kiss. It makes your toes curl against the plush carpet as his tongue dominates your mouth. You whimper into his mouth, nearly dropping the rectangle of plastic you’d been after all along.

He pulls away too soon, your lips swollen now not from the blow job but also from the bruising kiss.

“Get something pretty to make up for this interruption.” He orders, sliding his hand down to squeeze at your hip briefly.

You jump lightly, smiling as you giggle. “Yes, Daddy.”

He grins up at you before releasing you with a swat to your ass. He watches as you leave the room, grin on his face as he returns to the phone call.

Tagging @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @dinthisisthe-wayson​ @vonschweetz​ @insideafictionaluniverse​ @driedgreentomatoes​ @computeringturtle​ @mrschiltoncat​

#Maxwell Lord x Reader #Maxwell Lord x You #Maxwell Lord smut #Maxwell Lord drabble #Maxwell Lord imagine #Maxwell Lord fic #Maxwell Lord fanfic #WW84 fanfiction #Lemony Fresh #Dirty Writings #WookieTales #how bout some midnight smut for y'all?

[kikis-writing-world]

The Reason

The Reason

Summary: You can’t sleep as you near Moff Gideon’s ship, but neither can Din. He wants to tell you about what happened on Morak.

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Rating/Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 15!!!! Other than the spoilers, it’s all fluff and no editing lol. But seriously, if you’re avoiding finding out what happens in Season 2, Episode 7 / Chapter 15 of The Mandalorian, don’t read this yet. It takes place after, and there’s talk of what happened during the episode.

A/N: It seems like every freaking week I watch the episode and tell myself “don’t write something. Everyone will be writing something, you don’t need to add in your silly fic too.” (Not to say I don’t enjoy reading them, but I just always feel like I won’t be adding anything new.) Well, this week I said fuck it and cranked this little ditty out this morning after the new episode. I hope y’all like it.

Edit: Follow-up drabble here

You sat silently beside Din as the ship - not the Razor Crest that had become your home over the past months, but Boba Fett’s ship Slave I - travelled through space. If the coordinates were right, you were heading into what was sure to be a hard-fought battle but it would be worth it. It was all to get Grogu back.

You willed yourself not to cry as you thought of the little green child you’d come to think of as your own. What he must be feeling right now. Alone and scared while they did unthinkable experiments to him. You’d cried several times since he’d been taken from your care, sick with worry over him. You were sick of crying. Soon would be the time for action, for getting him back.

Fennec and Dune were both sleeping on the opposite side of the bay. You tried to sleep, knowing you’d need your wits about you when you reached Moff Gideon’s ship, but sleep wouldn’t come. Sleep was hard to come by lately.

A whisper to your left surprised you. The low, modulated voice speaking your name. You had thought he was also asleep, reserving his strength for the battle to come. You should have known he’d be struggling to sleep too.

He nodded his head to the side as he unbuckled the harness keeping him secure in the seat. You nodded as you unbuckled your own and followed him to the darkened corner of the hold. You waited for him to sit in the corner, knowing he liked to have his back secured and a view of the room. Instead, he gently led you into the corner and sat with his back to the others. You were too surprised to ask, you followed his lead and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

He hadn’t said much of what happened on Morak, but you hadn’t been expecting him to. You’d learned long ago he wasn’t one for unnecessary chatter. There were times he tried, for you and the kid, helping to fill the silences as time passed on the ship. Hearing him strain, pushing the boundaries of his usual comforts to ease the minds of you and his foundling, was one of the ways he snuck into your heart.

It wasn’t easy loving The Mandalorian. He was so used to being alone, both physically alone and having few people to trust. It took a while, but you earned that trust. You knew you had. You also knew he cared about you in his own special way. He would take your hand in his larger gloved hand to avoid losing you in a crowd. His hand would squeeze yours when you were visibly anxious. A hand on your shoulder, your back, or your hip as he passed you in tight quarters. Leaning his forehead against yours anytime the two of you parted.

To most these fleeting moments wouldn’t look like much, but you knew the stoic Mandalorian didn’t give these touches lightly. That his keldabe kiss was just as precious as any lip-to-lip contact.

You didn’t fully understand his creed. He answered questions when you asked, but a lot of it didn’t make sense to you, an outsider. Even so, you never pushed him to break it or put him in a position that made him feel like the creed was in danger.

“I know you’re worried,” his voice was quiet. The crackling of the modulator even more prominent as it tried to broadcast his hushed tone. “We’ll get him back.”

“I know.” You nodded, looking down at your crossed legs. If anyone could rescue Grogu, it was the man sitting across from you.

That large gloved hand entered your vision, resting lightly on your knee. A small smile broke through your worry at the man’s attempt at comfort. You placed your hand over his, feeling the warmth of him through the smooth leather.

“I-” He started to speak before stopping himself. While it wasn’t unusual for him to search for his words, he usually did so before starting to speak. By the time he spoke, he was confident and sure in what he had to say. That short, clipped syllable caught your attention in how different it was. He was trying to tell you something, but still wasn’t sure how.

“What is it?” You gently prompted, squeezing his hand with your own.

“On Morak…” He sighed.

“What happened on Morak?” You asked after a beat.

“I did what had to be done.”

His answer confused you. You knew that already of course, but it also sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as you.

“I know that. You got the coordinates. We’re going to find the kid because of you and Mayfield.” You smiled at him, praising him for the success. It was easy to overlook the triumph when it was just a stepping stone to a much larger problem.

“I had to…” He looked away from you as he once again searched for the words. Your smile dropped a fraction with his unease. “I had to take off the helmet.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to reveal, but it hadn’t been that. You knew that he had taken the helmet off months ago, but that had been a life or death situation. No one had been around, just the IG droid who had treated his wounds and saved him. This was a mining refinery full of people. Full of imps.

“Are you okay?” You asked, moving your hand from where it was resting on top of his so you could grip his hand fully. “What happened?”

“I-I had to.” He stuttered. “The terminal had to scan my face to get the coordinates.”

“Mando,” you didn’t dare speak his name - something he had shared with you in confidence - with others around. “Are you okay?”

He nodded once. Relief filled your body. You foremost worry had been for him, and how he would have felt to have broken his life-long creed. You supposed with the explosions, anyone who would have seen his face was likely dead. Unless Mayfield had seen him.

His hand slipped from yours as he brought both of his hands up to the sides of his helmet. He started pushing it up and your eyes widened as a sliver of skin was revealed. You surged forward, covering his hands in your own to stop him.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to. To show you.” He explained. His voice came in this awkward mix of his natural timber through the bottom of his helmet and the modulator still trying to pick up his voice. You could see his chin move as he spoke. Your heart was racing. It was the most you’d ever seen of his face.

“You don’t have to.” You told him firmly.

“I think… I think there are reasons to keep it on, and reasons to take it off.” He spoke slowly, like it was something he had been thinking about. You thought of the Mandalorians on Trask who claimed the creed was outdated. You thought of Boba Fett in the cockpit, who wore his newly-polished armor with the pride of a mandalorian despite being without it for years. Thought about him revealing his face for the information needed to save his foundling.

“I want to show you my face.” He told you, his voice unwavering. It was the surety, the confidence you had grown used to from him. “I want to show who I am to the one I love.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission. You knew it in your heart, but he’d never said the words aloud to you before. You bit your lip as you felt the tears welling in your eyes again, this time from happiness instead of grief and worry.

“Okay.” You breathed, barely able to find your voice.

With your hands still on his, he lifted the helmet, revealing his face inch by inch. You held your breath as he was slowly revealed to you.

The scruff covering his jaw. His plush lips. The mustache over his mouth. His aquiline nose. His deep brown eyes. His shaggy dark brown hair. He set his helmet in his lap as your eyes scanned his face.

Wow.

You hadn’t realized you had said that out loud until his eyebrows furrowed. That was new. You were used to guessing his emotions through his body language, his tone of voice. Now you had facial expressions to read. He was waiting for your reaction and you hadn’t given him much to go by.

“You’re gorgeous.” You told him. It was the only way you could think to describe the ridiculously handsome man sitting in front of you. You were almost mad at him for hiding his face away for this long.

His lips quirked up in a lopsided grin, a single dimple appearing in his cheek. Maker, you thought he’d already taken your breath away and then this-

“Come here.” He ordered. His natural voice was deep. Rich. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Huh?” Your brain wasn’t processing. It was in some kind of overloaded state. Din’s face. Din’s voice. Din’s beautiful brown eyes that you could simply drown in.

His hand was on your cheek, pulling you into him. You gasped, holding your breath as his lips brushed against yours. You had dreamed of this, but not a single one of those dreams lived up to the real thing.

He was hesitant, clumsy even as he kissed you. His lips were chapped against your own, the stubble on his cheeks tickling your skin. He smelt of sweat and blaster fire, of fresh air and leather. Maker, you could melt into the floor of the ship never to be seen again and you would have been happy with the life you had lived.

“I love you.” You whispered against his lips. You felt him smile in response.

You brought your hand up to his cheek. Feeling the lines of his face with your hand, you trailed your hand to his hair. It was damp with sweat but so soft. It felt amazing between your fingers.

“Where’s Mando?” A voice across the bay shocked both of you, the two of you shooting away from each other as if you’d been burned. You felt like a teenager who had been caught making out by your parents. You looked over Din’s shoulder as he pulled the helmet back into place - his strategic placement of the two of you making sense now. Not only did he not want them to see his face, but he trusted you to have his back. That thought made your heart speed up even more than it already was.

You saw Fennec shaking Cara awake. Luckily she hadn’t looked in this direction yet. Had Cara woken first, she likely would have seen the two of you.

“Sorry, we’re over here.” You admitted, trying to calm the heat in your face. It was dim in the hold, hopefully they couldn’t tell. “We were talking, didn’t want to wake you.”

“You should be sleeping.” Fennec told you,  leveling you with a gaze that truly did make you feel like you’d been caught doing something wrong by a parent.

“I should be sleeping.” Cara grumbled, cranky for having been woken up for no reason.

“Come on. We’re all gonna need to be at our best.” Fennec said, ignoring Cara.

“She’s right.” Din admitted, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, letting him help you to stand. “Let’s try to get some sleep, cyar'ika.”

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @thisisthe-wayson​ @insideafictionaluniverse​

#The Mandalorian spoilers #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x GN!Reader #The Mandalorian x Reader #Din Djarin drabble #The Mandalorian drabble #Din Djarin imagine #The Mandalorian imagine #Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction #WookieTales

[kikis-writing-world]

Whiskey Straight - The Mirror (7)

Jack Daniels x F!Reader

Something has changed, and Jack can’t quite place what it is. He thinks you’re still upset about the cancelled weekend plans but the more he tries, the more he uncovers. The more he uncovers, the less he likes what he finds. (Jack’s POV, Part 2)

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Kidnaping scenario, kind of (Jack’s POV of chapters 4-5) threats, gunshots, talk of infidelity, swearing, dancing, stripping, talk of lying to your partner, violence. Nothing out of the ordinary for this series so far, I think.

A/N: I’m so happy with how this came out, and the fact that I was able to get it done in a reasonably timely manner! I’m not going to jinx anything by guessing when I will have chapter 8 up, let’s just enjoy this chapter. Divider graphics by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist  -  Prologue  -  One  -   Two  -  Three  -   Four  -   Five  -  Six  -  Seven

Jack’s leg wouldn’t stop bouncing as he waited for news that you’d woken up. His emotions were running at an all time high and he was glad to be sitting alone to wrap his head around everything. There was adrenaline from the op, bursting into the little trailer as the helicopter roared overhead. Anger, seeing you under that piece of shit car salesman. Worry for you, after seeing you collapse when the other agent had hit you over the head to prevent you from escaping - Jack knew he shouldn’t have punched him afterwards, but he couldn’t help it. He had been strangely proud as you fought to break free from his hold. His arm still held an imprint of your teeth.

Underneath it all was a fear, stronger than he’d felt since becoming a junior agent. Fear of what you were going to reveal, fear of finding out just how unhappy you were with him, fear that his marriage is over.

He tried not to replay the scene over and over knowing it was doing nothing to calm him down, but honestly it was the only thing stopping him from marching right into the room they had left you in and checking on you. He knew your head would ache something fierce when you woke up. Waking up alone, in pain, in a dark room… would you think of him or Francis first?

The door opened behind him, Colt speaking before he even thought to turn around to check who was joining him. “They’re on their way.”

The little room was dimly lit as the door closed behind him. Stacks of equipment lined the walls and the desk ahead of them: monitors, recorders, microphones - all tools used to collect information from perps and criminals, detect lies or mask identities. Knowing you were about to sit in the concrete room on the opposite side of the two-way mirror made him wonder if he’d taken this too far…

“Is she okay?” Jack asked, not taking his eyes from the low-light monitor on the desk. The interrogation room was dark and empty, but soon he would be able to see you in the green tinted picture.

“Didn’t ask.” Tequila admitted as he started booting up the equipment they would need. “That junior agent though, Brock? He’s a little annoyed with you.” Jack could hear the grin in the younger man’s voice, but he was in no joking mood. He’d gladly clock him again if he hurt you.

Tequila seemed to read the room, keeping quiet until you appeared.

Jack watched you fumble in the dark, beating at the closed door with everything you had. Your fingers trailed the seams, you hit with fists, even threw your whole body weight into it.

“Showtime.” Tequila mumbled to himself as he hit the button for the lights, illuminating the room.

The monitor Jack had been watching washed out as the low-light camera adjusted to the suddenly bright room. He looked up, instead watching you through the two way mirror as you glanced around the room, backing yourself into the corner.

Leaning forward, Tequila pressed the button on the microphone to speak, ordering you to sit down. Over his voice, the echo of the distortion tool could be heard in the large, concrete room. When you didn’t obey quickly enough, he repeated himself.

“You sure you want to do this?” Tequila asked with the microphone off, staring at Jack.

“Too late now, isn’t it?” Jack snapped, already feeling guilty. He didn’t need his partner making it worse.

Tequila held his hands up in surrender, turning back to the microphone as he asked “who do you work for?”

You answered honestly, if a little vaguely, prompting Tequila to ask again and again until you snapped. 

“I don’t know what you want!” You wailed. “I work an office job, data entry! I’m just a secretary!”

“Sure, Mrs. Daniels.”

Jack watched as you blanched, freezing at the use of your married name. His gut churned as he considered your reaction. He grabbed the microphone away from Colt, some of his quiet resolve snapping as he took over. “What was a secretary doing in the woods with an international terrorist? Taking dictation? How long have you been part of The Vulture’s faction?”

“F-faction?! I don’t know anything about a faction!” You gasped, shaking your head. “I-I’ve only known Phil for a few weeks, maybe a month and a half. I don’t know any Jackal.”

“Phil,” Jack sneered, fighting the urge to scoff. “Is that who he said he was?” Jack sat back, crossing his arms as he thought back to the way Francis had spoken about you, about how he played women for fools to trick them into bed.

“Y-yes. Phil Strickland. I barely know him!” You cried.

Colt grabbed the microphone, sliding it back towards himself. “That’s not what it looked like when we found you.” He quipped, earning a hard glare from Jack for the reminder.

Your soft sob brought his attention back to you, cutting through the anger he was feeling. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to go to you in the room and explain everything, but it was too late for that. Instead, he slid the microphone back over to himself. “How did you meet him?”

The agents were quiet as you relayed your first meeting with Phil. How he sat next to you at the restaurant, asking you to look after his briefcase. The whirlwind suddenness of it all. How you worried about what you had gotten involved with, how you picked the lock of the briefcase - Jack could hardly hold back his smirk at that.

You continued, telling them about your second meeting, wanting to give the briefcase back to him and be done with him and the gun and all of it. Jack rubbed his bottom lip as he pictured it all, letting your words paint the scene for him. He hadn’t noticed Tequila taking the microphone back, too engrossed in your story.

“He said he needed my help.” You answered the question Jack hadn’t heard.

“Not because you were attracted to him?”

Jack’s jaw set, fist clenching as he fought back the need to punch Colt for asking that, but he couldn’t take his eyes from you. He needed to know the answer.

“No!” You practically shrieked, looking disgusted. Relief flooded Jack’s body as he took a deep breath. It felt like the first deep breath he’d taken in weeks.

“You weren’t attracted to him at all?” Tequila questioned again.

“No!” You repeated, just as much vigor in your voice and posture as the first time. “He’s not my type, and I’m happily married!” 

That was enough for Jack. He let his eyes slip closed as he relished your answer, letting it play over in his head. Happily married to him. He had gotten worked up for nothing. He’d feel foolish later, maybe even laugh in the years to come about how grossly he overreacted, but for now he embraced the calmness that ran through him.

“Maybe a little.” You admitted quietly, shattering his calm. Jack’s eyes snapped open, his heart breaking all over as you wrung your hands in your lap, head hanging guiltily. He had to swallow hard around the bubble of emotion in his throat, not sure if he wanted to scream or be sick or cry.

“Is cheating on your husband common for you?” Colt asked, not bothering to hide the venom in his tone.

“What?!” You gasped. “No! I’d never!”

“So this was the first time then?”

Jack reached over and yanked the microphone away from Tequila, shutting him up with another glare. Without a target to concentrate his anger towards, his partner was quickly becoming in danger of a beating.

“I wasn’t cheating!” You wailed, having no idea of the storm brewing behind the mirror.

Tequila shrugged, face apologetic as he gestured with his hands around the room, silently pointing out that it was Jack’s idea to interrogate his wife about an affair, not his.

Jack ignored him, asking the next question for himself despite being nearly terrified of the answer. “Tell me about your husband, Mrs. Daniels.”

He watched you frown, brows furrowing with confusion. “Jack? What do you want to know about Jack?” You paused, seemingly in thought. “What can I say about him? He works for Statesman Distillery, runs the division…”

Tequila leaned into Jack’s space, speaking into the microphone. “So sex with him isn’t doing it for you anymore?”

He barely released the talk button before Jack walloped him on the arm. The younger man yelped, jumping back as Jack shook out his hand. “What?” Tequila huffed.

Both agents missed your answer as they bickered, the words lost on them but the outraged tone of your voice carrying through. The men glared at each other for a moment before Tequila slowly reached for the microphone, gesturing that he would behave.

“You’re in a lot of trouble, Mrs. Daniels. I suggest you cooperate.” He kept his voice firm but considerably gentler than his previous demand. “If we want to know about the most intimate details of your life, you had better tell us if you want to get out of here.”

Jack begrudgingly nodded at him in approval before turning his attention back to you. He watched you wilt in front of his very eyes, curling in on yourself as you bit your lip. He knew that look, he’d seen it plenty over his years with you. You were trying not to cry.

“Jack is a good man.” You whispered.

“But he doesn’t exactly ‘take you to church’ anymore-”

Jacked moved in a sudden flash of fury, his annoyance with Tequila, his urge to protect you, all his emotions finally breaking the dam. One hand smacked Colt’s hand away from the microphone and off the talk button. His other hand cupped the back of Colt’s head, forcing it down to meet the desk. His forehead bounced off the wood with a low thud, the younger agent crying out in surprise and pain at the assault.

“‘The fuck?” He whined, stunned.

Jack smoothed down his shirt as he turned back to the mirror. Honestly, that had helped a little bit. He felt a little better. “Why did you go to Francis’ hideout?” He asked, ignoring Tequila’s grumbling.

“Francis?” You asked in confusion.

“Francis Steinruck, legal name of The Vulture. Also goes by Phil Strickland.” Jack recited. He had made up “The Vulture” part, but the fake name he’d made up had been easy enough to find out. He waited as you spoke the man’s true name, taking the time to test it out. Clearly, you’d never heard it before. He’d only ever called himself Phil in your presence.

“He wanted me to go with him to Paris. For a mission. He needed a cover and he wanted me to… pose as his wife.” You admitted.

Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a million thoughts racing through his head. He had no idea you wanted to go to Paris. He would have taken you himself…

“And she agreed?” Tequila grunted, sitting up in his chair once more as he held his head.

“And you agreed?” Jack parroted the question into the microphone.

You nodded shamefully.

“Why?” Jack had to know… he had to know what pulled you to this man, how to fix things.

“I don’t know.” You admitted with a shrug. “I… I guess I just needed something. Something… more?”

Jack’s voice shook as he asked what you needed. He hoped it didn’t carry through the vocoder. He watched as you shrugged once more, shaking your head.

“To feel alive? I just wanted to do… something outrageous. Something that was just for me… And it felt really good to be needed. Wanted.” You admitted with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling and blinking back the tears.

Jack felt like he’d been shot at close range with a buckshot. His breath was stolen from him, his heart ached, his stomach dropped out- you didn’t think he wanted you? God, he had failed as a husband. He closed his eyes, rubbing at his forehead as he forced himself to listen to what you had to say.

“He trusted me. When I talked, it felt like he was listening. He noticed things… He made me feel special.” You paused, taking a steadying breath. “I-I’m not getting any younger, you know?

There’s so much more out there in this life and I didn’t want to miss it. I wanted to be able to look back one day and say ‘yeah, I lived that life. I was wild once! I was reckless and did something exciting!’” You sniffled.

Jack took a steadying breath, making himself look at you again. He could see the few tears that had slipped past your lids, the tracks they left behind glimmering in the harsh lighting. He opened and closed his mouth, a rare moment as he was completely lost for words.

“Shit…” Tequila breathed. Jack could see the younger man staring at him, wondering what he wanted to do next. Honestly, he didn’t know.

You must have gotten tired of the silence, of waiting for the next invasive question as you began talking again. Jack watched as you squared your shoulders and wiped your face, something he’d seen you do plenty. You had just picked yourself up and were ready for war, and you were gonna fight anyone who got in your path. Jack had been both on your side and against you at times when you transformed into this warrior. You looked beautiful, and he hated that he apparently hadn’t told you that enough.

“I don’t care if you understand or not, okay?” You scoffed. “I made a decision for myself, and maybe it wasn’t a good decision, and maybe I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. I don’t know. The point is I made it for myself, and you don’t have to understand that. I have to answer to myself, and to my husband, but certainly not to you.”

Jack was speechless, his heart aching with love for you as you became the lion instead of the lamb. You were being held against your will by strangers, no idea where, and you were ready to give them a piece of your mind.

As Jack admired you, Tequila took control of the microphone. “This Phil… did you sleep with him?”

Jack looked at him, realizing that they still didn’t have a straight answer to that question. Tequila flinched under his gaze, his forehead marred by a big, red welt. Jack nodded once, showing his approval of the question, and he saw his partner visibly relax.

You sighed on the other side of the mirror, admitting a simple “no.”

Jack had to be sure. He took the microphone back, asking as clearly as he could, almost in disbelief that after everything he had heard today you had still stayed true to your vows. “You mean you did not have sexual relations with him?”

“If you’re going to ask me every goddamn question twice, this is going to take a really long time and I have to get home.” You laughed bitterly, standing from the stool.

Tequila jumped back in, telling you that you weren’t going anywhere. You lost your composure at that, yelling at them to let you go, but the younger man just pressed once more.

“I already answered your fucking question!” You screamed, picking up the stool and swinging it into the mirror.

Jack and Tequila both jumped out of their seats, taking a few steps back from the surface separating you from them. Neither of them had been expecting your sudden outburst. They watched as the two-way mirror shattered in spiderweb patterns, but never fully gave way. You continued to scream at them, repeating that you didn’t sleep with Francis.

The shock wore down and Jack leaned forward into the mic, telling you to calm down. You didn’t listen, at least not right away. They watched you attack the mirror over and over, the material shuddering with each hit. Jack knew it wouldn’t give way, but he almost believed it might for a moment.

When you finally stopped, you looked like you were about to collapse. He fought the urge to run to you once again. He wanted to take you home, tell you it was going to be okay, and start working his ass off to prove to you just how much you were wanted and loved and cherished. That was what you still wanted, wasn’t it?

“One more question, Mrs. Daniels.” He spoke slowly, nearly scared to ask the question on his mind. He didn’t know if he wanted the answer, more than anything else they had asked tonight. Everything else he could find a way to fix, but this... “Do you still love your husband?”

He watched you carefully, tapping into his training to look for any kind of emotional tells. Looking for anger or sadness. Instead, you smiled. It was a small, sad smile, but it was a smile all the same.

“Yes. I love him.” Your voice was scratchy, ruined from all the screaming. Jack swore it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

Tequila clapped him on the back, quietly congratulating him, although he wasn’t sure for what. He had a lot of ground to cover, a lot of repairing to do. He dropped back into his chair, elbows braced on his thighs as he hung his head. 

“Now what?” Tequila asked from behind him, leaning against the back of his chair.

Jack lifted his head, rubbing at his eyes - the other man didn’t need to see how much he’d teared up from your confession. He took a deep breath, resolve setting in as he knew he could fix this. He looked over his shoulder, grinning at his partner before leaning in for the microphone. “There’s only one way to fix all this, Mrs. Daniels.”

Colt dropped himself into his chair beside Jack, asking him what the plan was. Jack ignored him, continuing to talk to you. “You will work for us.”

Jack could see the double take from Colt out of the corner of his eye. His partner leaned over, covering the microphone with his hand. “What are you doing?” He hissed. Jack waved him off, nodding that he had it under control. Tequila relented with a sigh, leaning back in his chair and letting his partner take over.

“I am offering you a choice.” Jack explained. “If you work for us, we will drop the charges and you can go back to your normal life. If not, you will go to federal prison and your husband will be left humiliated and alone. Your life as you know it will be destroyed.”

Jack gained his confidence the more he spoke, despite the man’s helpless gestures beside him. He even swore under his breath as you agreed to the proposition. Jack nearly laughed at him.

“You will be contacted with the assignment. The code name of your contact will be Whiskey, and your code name will be Bourbon.”

“Christ on a cracker, Jack!” Tequila hissed. “You can’t give her your actual name.”

“Too late.” Jack dismissed.

“Bourbon is a whiskey, dumbass.” You interrupted the men. “You remember the part when I told you my husband runs a distillery, right?”

Jack laughed as you sassed him. All the proud moments he’d held tonight had been tangled in with his guilt. This one shone a little bit brighter than the others.

“What the fuck are you thinking, Whiskey?” Tequila demanded as they closed the door behind them, making their way through the sterile halls of HQ. The outburst had the man groaning, clutching at his aching head.

“Relax, I’ve got a plan.” Jack waved the man off.

“That’s what worries me.” His partner hissed, struggling to keep up with Jack’s purposeful strides as he tended to his growing migraine. “Are you at least gonna fill me in?”

“Later.” Jack promised. “I’ve gotta get home, and you should probably go lay down.” Jack couldn’t stop himself from grinning, still firmly believing Colt had deserved the knock to the head.

“I’ll take some tylenol. We’ve still got Francis to deal with.” Colt reminded him.

Jack stopped in his tracks, Colt nearly bumping into him. The two men shared a wide grin as Jack nodded. “I’ll tell them to hold her a little longer before they drive her to her car. You pop some pills and meet me at the van.”

Jack kept a hand firmly on Francis’ shoulder, keeping him standing in place as he pulled the hood off of his head. It only took the man a second to start blubbering as he realized he was standing on the edge of a long drop. The view of the concrete dam and the lake far, far below him made his whole body tremble as he tried to step backwards to safety, but Jack held him firm. The wind coming off the lake, jetting up the slope of the dam, swirled around them. Francis’ dirty hair whipped in the cold breeze. All the hair on his body stood up on end, easy for the two agents to see as he’d been stripped down to his boxers and a white undershirt.

“You son of a bitch,” Jack growled, shooting a grin backwards where Tequila stood. Both men wore the balaclavas they had donned when storming the trailer, hiding their identities. “Think you could hide from us forever, Carlos?”

“C-Carlos? No, no! You’ve got the wrong guy!” Francis pleaded, turning as much as he could in Jack’s tight grasp. “My name is Francis. L-Let me go, you don’t have t-to do anything crazy! N-no need to kill me! I don’t know you, I won’t tell an-anyone…”

Jack reached up, pulling the balaclava over his head, an unamused expression on his face. He heard the wool rustle over his shoulder as Tequila did the same, unmasking himself.

“Aww, no!” Francis screeched, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to avoid seeing them. “I didn’t look! I d-didn’t see!”

Jack rolled his eyes, looking over at Tequila who looked just as unamused with the coward.

“W-wait…” The men looked to Francis, seeing he was looking up at Jack. “I-its, it’s you!” Francis laughed, relieved to recognize the familiar face. “Still interested in that ‘Vette? She’s still on the lot! If this is you trying to knock down the price, I’ll do what I-”

Tequila cut off his rambling, tired of listening to it. “Carlos, it’s over, man. Your career as an international terrorist is over. We’ve got so much dirt on your name-”

“No! No, please!” He begged.

“Yeah, oh yeah!” Tequila mocked

“I sell cars! That’s all! I’m not a terrorist!” Francis snivelled. “I’m a coward, I'm a flea! I’ve never even seen a real gun!”

Jack kept his scowl in place as he reached into his holster, pushing his favorite revolver into Francis’ face, pressing it just between his eyes. The man didn’t need to know it wasn’t currently loaded.

Francis’ eyes widened and crossed as he watched the gun settle against his skin. “Oh god! Oh no!” He whimpered, the trembling returning to his body ten-fold as he started begging for his life.

Jack had to look away, a grin cracking onto his face as he thoroughly enjoyed watching Francis make an ass of himself. He nodded at Tequila, who nodded back in encouragement. It was a healthier way for Jack to take out his anger than smashing his face into another table.

Francis continued to plead his case, admitting his wrongdoings like he was confessing before he met his end. He called himself shit on the bottom of a farmer’s boot, admitted he was no one, that he had to lie to women to get laid, even admitted to having a little dick - which made Tequila snort with laughter.

Jack made a show of pulling the hammer on his revolver. Francis squeezed his eyes shut as his whimpering grew. Despite the sounds of water coming from the dam, both agents heard a sudden dribbling of water as Francis cried. Whiskey and Tequila shared a look before glancing down, seeing Francis was wetting himself right in front of them.

“W-would a sp-spy piss hims-self?” Francis wailed. “I-I’m n-not even w-w-worth a b-bullet.”

Whiskey rolled his eyes and pulled the gun from Francis’ face, tucking it safely back in it’s holster. “Get the fuck out of here.” He ordered, turning the two of them around and shoving Francis ahead of him.

Francis stumbled, turning back to watch the agents as they walked away from the ledge. “N-no way, man! The second I turn, y-you’ll shoot me!”

Jack and Colt ignored him, walking towards the van as Francis followed, making sure to keep his eyes on the two. Jack made his way around to the driver’s side as Colt closed the back doors of the van. Before moving around to the side, he shot at the ground at Francis’ feet.

“Get lost, dipshit.” He jeered as Francis shrieked, hopping around to avoid the shots.

Francis stood there dumbly as Colt climbed in the passenger side. Once he was inside, Jack let the wheels of the van spin, spitting gravel back at the man. After a moment he pulled away, leaving Francis in the dust, alone, on the side of the dam.

Jack entered the recording studio at Statesman, seeing Colt sitting at the audio mixer. Inside the clear glass of the recording booth, Agent Ouzo read out the script Jack had put together. The man puffed on a cigarette between lines, claiming it helped him get into character. Ouzo specialized in accents, helping other agents like a dialogue coach would if they needed to disguise their voice. That was one talent that Jack had never quite gotten the hang of, his southern twang too powerful to mask.

“How’s it going?” Jack asked, standing behind Colt.

“Almost done. I gotta say, not the most inspiring stuff.” He scoffed.

“I know my wife, okay? It’ll work.”

“Who wrote this crap?” Ouzo grumbled before taking another drag off his smoke. Jack frowned as Colt laughed. The man couldn’t hear them from inside the booth, so the interjection was purely inspired by the script in his hands.

“Told you.” Colt teased.

Jack hummed dismissively. “It’ll be ready for tonight, right?”

Ouzo’s voice came through the speakers, interrupting the conversation briefly. “Dance sexy. Imagine your hands are the hands of your lover, let them touch you the way your lover would.”

“Yeah, I’ll have it for you in about an hour.” Colt nodded, reaching over to tweak a few dials. Once he was satisfied, he turned one finger in the air as a signal for Ouzo to read the line once more.

The line was repeated, sounding clearer through the speakers. Tequila seemed happy with the recording and he gave Ouzo a thumbs up. 

Sensing a small pause in the recording as Ouzo took another drag, Jack cut back in. “And you’ll call with the instructions-”

“At 7:30, I know.” Tequila rolled his eyes at Jack’s worry.

“Sorry, I just need this to work.” Jack sighed.

“It will.” Colt did his best to reassure him, clapping him on the arm. “You tell Champ you’re using the suite yet?”

“Nope, and he doesn't have to know.” He grinned.

Ouzo’s voice came through the speakers once more, saving Jack from anything his partner might have said next. “Now lie on the bed and close your eyes.”

Colt faked a gasp as he adjusted the mixer accordingly. “You filthy animal,” he teased. “You should write for porn.”

Jack shook his head, deciding to walk away and let him focus on the work instead of engage. He had other things he needed to prepare for the night that deserved his energy more than his partner.

Jack had to play the long game all evening. He faked disinterest in you and your plans as you told him you had to go out. He pretended to take a shower to give you the space to prepare to leave. As soon as you were gone he was racing through the backstreets, knowing which would keep him off police radar as he broke speed limits the whole way. He made it to the suite in record time, double checking everything was ready before placing himself in the chair..

He spent the next 20 minutes glancing at his watch.

He knew you got the call, he had been there. He knew you left the house, he had heard it. He wondered about the other steps of the plan, thinking about which ones could have gone wrong for you to be so late. Sitting in the darkened bedroom by himself, he wondered if you’d backed out.

He’d been contemplating leaving his post, going to look for you or call Colt when the door to the suite opened. He forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath as he felt something stir in his gut. Something that felt a lot like nerves, except that Agent Whiskey didn’t get nervous. Especially not on an op. No, it had to be something else.

He watched you carefully as you moved through the suite, seeing you pass the open door to the bedroom at first. Your shoes clicked loudly as you moved through the room, helping him to locate where you were heading in the dark. When you finally made it into the bedroom, he couldn’t help but drink you in.

Pressing the play button on the device in his hand, Ouzo’s smooth accent filled the room. “Help yourself to some Champagne.”

As you stripped for him, each inch of skin being revealed, it felt like he was seeing you in a new light. He had to consciously remind himself of what he was doing, why he couldn’t get out of the chair and take you into his arms. His need to atone for everything he’d done. All the pain he’d caused you was an ache settled deep in his chest. He’d crawl on hands and knees through glass to you just to grovel for your forgiveness. He pushed back that thought, remaining cool and stagnant in the chair. He’d give you the excitement you longed for. He’d finally come clean about what he did for a living.

And then you started dancing for him. Eyes closed, lost in your own fantasy- he hoped you were thinking of him. Your red-painted lips parted as you started breathing heavier from the dancing, running your hands over your naked skin. Moving in ways he didn’t even know you knew how… he was completely and utterly mesmerized by you. So bewitched, every muscle in his body calling for you, that he lost his grip on the tape device, letting it clatter to the floor.

The noise felt so loud in the silent room and he scrambled to pick it up before you noticed. If you did, it didn’t stop you from dancing. He could hardly take it anymore. His jeans were so uncomfortably tight, his chest ached with want- no with need for you… his hand was shaking when he pressed the button for the next track.

“Now lie on the bed and close your eyes.” Ouzo’s silken voice commanded, gently but firmly.

He felt your confidence shift. You held yourself differently. Your whole posture went rigid at the order, not the loose, free dancing you had been so engrossed in. The near electricity of passion had faded from the room, leaving a dull, quiet nervousness.

Just a little bit longer, darlin’, he thought.

“I… I thought you liked to watch.”

He fumbled with the recorder, glad your back was to him, needing to replay the command once more. He waited until you were laid on the bed, so still and vulnerable, before finally standing from the chair.

He took the rose he’d left on the table to his right, twirling the stem in his fingers as he approached slowly. The anticipation was killing him, but it hurt too good to cut it short. He watched you as he rounded the corner of the bed, seeing your face flinch ever so slightly, your eyes move with the sound of his footsteps. You were listening for him, nervous about what was to come.

He sat next to you slowly, letting his weight gradually dip the bed. Slow, careful movements to avoid spooking you. He let himself take you in, trailing his eyes from your hair, slicked back but slightly askew from the dancing, down over the swell of your breasts, the curves of your stomach-

He stopped himself, instead bringing the rose up to travel the path he’d been taking with his eyes. You flinched as the rose made contact with your forehead. He stroked it softly down the bridge of your nose, trying to let you acclimatize to it. Your lashes fluttered as it passed your eyes, over the tip of your nose, and to your lips.

He heard you inhale, smelling the rose as your chest rose beside him. He lifted the rose, moving it from your chin to your cheek before trailing it down along the slope of your neck. He watched your throat constrict as you swallowed, a soft sigh escaping you. He grinned at the sound, feeling it draw him to you even more.

Further down, he let the rose tease over the swell of your breasts. He traced the hem of your bra, appreciating the shine of the dim light from the windows as it highlighted your skin. Down between your breasts, watching your abdomen muscles jump and twitch as he tickled them with the flower.

He licked his lips, trying to bring some moisture back to his suddenly dry mouth. You were so beautiful, ethereal even in the dim room. He found himself leaning in, drawn in to you like  his own personal siren. He moved slow, as slow as he was able while under your spell, not wanting to frighten you as he finally pressed his lips to yours.

He felt you freeze under him, only for the briefest of moments as he kissed you gently. As he tried to pour all of his love, his apologies, his heart into the kiss. He worshipped your lower lip, massaging it with his own. You relaxed, kissed back, although it still wasn’t right. You kissed him like a stranger, like you were unsure, like you didn’t know him.

Well… you didn’t. Not like this, anyway. He was a stranger to you, about to come clean. He’d tell you everything, all his secrets. He’d explain the job, what he really does, that he isn’t flying down to Georgia or Tennessee or Florida every weekend, but Stockholm, Rome, Paris- he would take you to Paris if that’s what you wanted-

The hand you’d placed on his shoulder pushed him back, catching him off guard. He stared down at you, not having enough breath in his lungs to speak, to identify himself, before he was clocked in the side of the head.

He fell over from the force of the blow. Groaning in pain, he clutched at the side of his face. He couldn’t size up the hit, examine if you’d knocked any teeth loose, before he was hit again in the back of the head. Flares of pain whited out his vision. Another groan as he rolled off of the bed, trying to catch his breath.

You cursed at him, jumping off the bed and rushing past him. He tried to get his bearings, to say something, anything at this point to stop you. He got to his knees just to meet a hard kick to the ribs. He’d met mules with weaker kicks than that.

The pain seemed to jumpstart his breathing, making his gasp in gulps of air as he found his voice.  “Shit, darlin’. Wait!” He panted. “Who taugh’ya to kick like that?”

You froze, staring at him from the doorway as he looked up at you, head tilted onto his shoulder as he reconciled the pain.

“Jack?!” You gasped, mouth agape as you stared at him in shock.

He nodded, still trying to catch his breath. One hand held his head, the other gripping his ribs. “Yeah. It’s Jack.” His bitter chuckle turned to a groan as it jostled his side. You continued to stare down at him, emotions flickering across your face as they fought for control. Anger, confusion, hurt…

“I know it looks bad, darlin’,” He admitted with a helpless shrug. “I can explain-”

Tagging  @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell @vonschweetz @insideafictionaluniverse @driedgreentomatoes @computeringturtle @spideysimpossiblegirl @sheerfreesia007 @and-claudia @weirdowithnobeardo @massivecolorspygiant @mrstaekim @chibi-liz05 @adrieunor @ilikechocolatemilkh @thirstworldproblemss @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @eli-the-thinker @justanotherblonde23 @bbuckysbeardd @generalfoolish @reader-s-cantina @littlemissoblivious @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @maghellah @ironbabey

#Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x Reader #Agent Whiskey x F!Reader #Agent Whiskey fanfic #Agent Whiskey imagine #Agent Jack Daniels #Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction #WookieTales #AU: Whiskey Straight

[kikis-writing-world]

Picking up the Pieces: Poe Dameron

Summary: BB-8 tells Poe he’s worried about you: You’ve been working late and he’s pretty sure you were crying. Poe sets out to check on you.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Droid Mechanic!Reader (GN, no Y/N) (largely platonic, but could be read into with future romance)

Word Count: 2k

Rating/Warnings: Sadness caused by (ambiguous, GN-named OC) breakup. 

A/N: I just really love the relationship between Poe and BB-8 because who doesn’t? I totally imagine on their “slow” time - when they’re just waiting for someone to show up or anything like that, Poe is coming up with silly code names for things. Credit for divider: @firefly-graphics

Poe plopped himself down to sit on the edge of his cot, rolling his stiff neck back and forth a few times before reaching down to unlace his boots.

“Ready for bed, buddy?” He asked BB-8, not looking up from his task.

BB-8 beeped back at him, making his fingers pause mid-task.

“Yeah, sure.” He confirmed as he sat back up, brow creasing as he took in his companion. “What’s up?”

BB-8 went into a tale of beeps and whistles, eventually showing a quick recording he’d taken the night before. The blue-tinted image hovered in the middle of the room, backing up BB’s story.

The footage was shot from inside the droid workshop (Poe had sent him the night before for a nice oiling) and Poe could see you hunched over your usual work table. You were poking a prodding at a piece of tech in front of you but it was impossible to miss the way you paused mid-work, looking up towards the ceiling as you took several deep breaths. You rubbed at your cheeks before turning back to the piece of tech in front of you.

“This was last night? What time?” Poe asked as the recording stopped, the glow from the projection fading from the room.

He rubbed at his jaw, contemplating what BB-8 was telling him. “Do you think they’d be there now?”

Poe was already retying his boot before the droid could answer, admitting that he didn’t know.

“Well, c’mon. Let’s go check.”

Your hands were shaking as you pressed the soldering gun to the motherboard in front of you. The shaking would fade, it had already lessened in the past few days. It would take time. Time you wish you could skip ahead to when you were okay again and it didn’t hurt to sit alone with your thoughts. At least the shaking in your hands had gone down to the point where you could work on some of the smaller pieces that needed careful detail. It forced you to concentrate even harder on the task at hand.

The noise of the workshop whirred around you. The buzzing of charging batteries, the hum of the air compressor, the zapping of the tool in your hand. The strange symphony of electronics, making beats and rhythms that flowed and ebbed just enough to keep you on your toes. You couldn’t quite settle into the unpredictable rhythm, stopping it from simply fading into the background of your mind. The almost-music and the work on your table kept you from having to think.

The door sliding open made you flinch, sitting upright and pushing the magnifying goggles up your forehead so you could see who was visiting your workshop in the middle of the night. Seeing Poe Dameron and BB-8… you weren’t entirely sure if you were relieved or saddened that it was the person you were trying so hard to get off your mind. The duo entered the room, Poe greeting you with a soft murmur of your name.

“Poe. BB-8.” You acknowledged the two, your grip twitching on the soldering gun. “Is everything okay?”

Poe walked with a nonchalance that was only betrayed by the hour on the chronometer. He glanced around the workspace at the range of droids and parts in various states of repair. “Why don’t you tell me?” He asked.

You frowned, biting your lip as you dropped your attention to your desk briefly. You weren’t ready to talk about it but you knew word would start getting around soon. You inhaled through your nose, hoping Poe didn’t hear the way it caused you to sniffle. The latest bout of crying had left you with a tinge of a runny nose. “I don’t know what you mean.” You shrugged, looking back at the pilot as you lied through your teeth.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at you as he continued maneuvering the cluttered space. “So there’s no reason why you’re here, working instead of relaxing or sleeping, or spending time with-”

“I could ask you the same thing. Why are you here?” You cut him off before he could finish. Before he could say their name. You pushed the goggles back down over your eyes, hoping they would hide the way tears built up at the implication of just who Poe expected you to be with tonight.

“Well, since you asked,” Poe rested his hip against your table, either ignoring or not noticing your change in demeanor. “BB-8 here tells me you’ve been working pretty late the last few nights.”

“And?” You tried to shrug off the line of questioning, instead looking back at the malfunctioning motherboard. It took you a second, in your fatigue, to remember just where you were in the repair before you had been interrupted.

“He thought it might have looked like you were crying.” Poe added softly. You almost missed it over the other noises in the shop. You kind of wished you had.

You looked up at the droid, it’s image distorted through the goggles. BB’s headpiece was titled to the side and he had stayed a few meters back from Poe. He almost looked like a sheepish child, hiding behind their parent.

“Snitch.” You grumbled under your breath, clenching your jaw before you turned back to your work.

You heard BB beep in surprise at the insult.

Poe slid down from his perch at the table, crouching so he was more level with you in your seat. He rested a hand on your forearm, trying to get you to pause in your work. “We’re friends, right? You know you can talk to me.”

You hated the way that made your heart hurt. You’d been pushing away your friends for the last few days, but you hadn’t thought they noticed. You had hoped for another day or two to wrap your head around everything before having to talk about it.

“Of course we’re friends.” You sighed, fidgeting with the soldering gun to avoid looking Poe in the eye. “It’s just…” You trailed off, letting your head hang as you worked up how to tell him what was bothering you. Poe, to his credit, was patiently silent - two things the flyboy was not particularly known for.

“Sam broke up with me.” You admitted, speaking as quickly as you can to just get the words out into the open before you chickened out. “The promotion is taking them off base, and apparently it’s best if we...  aren’t [“we” anymore.” Your voice was shaking by the end and you thanked the stars that you had the goggles on to hide the tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Poe offered quietly, squeezing your forearm lightly.

“Sam’s already out of our bunk- decided since they’re leaving base soon, they might as well take the temporary quarters. I just hate being alone in there right now.” You sniffed, betraying your attempt at stoicism, although you had a feeling Poe was seeing through the facade.

“So, you’ve been hanging out here at night?” Poe asked, filling in the gaps.

You nodded. “I c-can’t sleep. I lay there in the dark just… wondering if I could have stopped it. If I was… more… or less… Should I have fought more to move off base too, so we could stay together. How… [kriffing unfair it is that I have to stay here and explain to all of our friends while they get to move on and start a brand new life.” Now that you had started talking, it seemed you couldn’t stop. Your fatigue and emotional state had basically disabled the brain to mouth filter and all of the anxieties that had been plaguing you were rushing out.

Poe carefully took the tool out of your hands, setting it down on the desk as he hushed you. “Hey now, it’s okay. Take a breath with me, alright?” He prompted as he lifted the goggles off your head. You hadn’t realized how worked up you were getting until you tried to match the rise and fall of his chest and found you were breathing much faster than he was.

“That’s it.” He praised, wiping the tear tracks from your face with his thumbs. “Just like that.”

You followed him, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. Your breathing began to steady, even if the tears continued to silently fall.

Once he was satisfied your breathing was under control, Poe asked, “when was the last time you had a decent sleep?”

You shrugged, not entirely sure. Your sleep schedule was screwy on the best of days.

“C’mon.” He took your hands, pulling you to stand. “Beebs, operation Yellow Gundark.”

BB-8 beeped, seemingly just as confused as you were as his head tilted.

“Yellow Gundark.” Poe repeated, staring down his droid.

BB-8 chirped argumentatively as Poe’s eyes widened. Your own eyebrows shot up into your hairline as you wondered what the hell the pilot was up to for BB-8 to point out they were nowhere near a swamp...

“What? No, that’s Operation Purple Sarlak, Yellow Gundark is- you know, we’ll sort this out later, just go to the kitchens for snacks.”

BB-8 sounded just about as sarcastic as you’d ever heard in binary before he rolled out of your workshop. You watched the exchange, your brain scrambling to keep up with the two of them. You were pulled out of your confusion as Poe started to lead you out of the workshop behind the droid.

“Poe, what are we doing?”

“Movie night.” He filled you in with a grin. “We’ll put on a holodisc, eat some food, and hopefully pass out somewhere in the middle of all the action.”

You didn’t want to impose, you were sure Poe had other plans for the night, but at the same time- that sounded really nice. You chewed your lower lip as you debated selfishly accepting the offer or retreating back to your workshop.

“Nu-uh, none of that.” Poe warned, reading the indecision on your face. “This is happening. I already sent BB-8 to the kitchens and you know he’ll get more than I can eat on my own. Really, you’re saving me from myself at this point.” Poe chuckled.

You had to hand it to him. Poe could sell sunscreen to Tuskens. He had a way of making it seem like you were doing him a favor here, the sneaky rascal.

It took no time at all for Poe to guide you through the halls to his room. He invited you to make yourself at home as he unlaced his boots. You sat on the edge of his cot, drumming your fingers along your thigh as you looked over the room. It wasn’t cluttered, but it was filled with mementos from Poe’s life. His family, his friends, his accreditations and awards. There was an old, worn, wooden X-wing that sat on his bedside table, the paint mostly faded. You could only imagine it had been his as a child, and you smiled at the thought of a young Poe Dameron, racing around his home as he held the toy aloft in the air, dreaming of being a pilot someday.

It didn’t take long for BB-8 to return, dragging a tray from the mess hall behind him. You laughed at the sight, seeing the various foods and drinks he had managed to sneak out of the cook droids all rattling precariously as they threatened to fall off the pile.

“If droids could have crushes, I’d definitely say one of the cook droids has it bad for Beebs.” Poe teased with a grin. You laughed as BB-8 seemed to whistle in embarrassment. “That’s why he’s always on snack duty.”

A few minutes later the three of you were set up: BB projecting the movie in the darkened room as you and Poe leaned against each other in the small cot, food splayed over the blanket covering your laps. Your eyes grew heavier as you tried to follow the plot, your head slowly slumping onto Poe’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, letting you slowly fall asleep against him in what he hoped would be the restful sleep you needed.

Tagging:  @wickedfrsgrl @din-damn-djarin @seasonschange-butpeopledont @kesskirata @phoenixhalliwell​ @vonschweetz​ 

#Poe Dameron x Reader #Poe Dameron x You #Poe Dameron imagine #Poe Dameron drabble #Poe Dameron fluff #Poe Dameron fic #Poe Dameron fanfic #WookieTales #AU: Picking up the Pieces