#bobafetts Princess writes

[bobafetts-princess]

What Were You Thinking?

Summary: After saving civilians on a mission, Logan is furious that you almost died. (You didn’t almost die) He reminds you that he needs you in the most Logan-esque way possible.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Logan gets rough. Hair pulling, ass slapping, biting, Logan doesn’t handle his woman getting hurt very well. Dirty talk. Scott is annoying. Logan goes soft after he finishes.

A/N: If you’ve seen this on ao3, I’m the same person! I edited this so it’s a little different from my ao3 version. I like this a little more tbh.

The mission was successful. Everyone made it out alive and with minimal scratches. Well, everyone except you. You’d thrown yourself on top of civilians, trying to shield them from harm. You were a bontanokinetic, the ability to control plants, but you also had advanced healing. So even though you sustained major injuries from the bomb that went off 20 feet from you, all the civilians were safe and you were almost healed. You’d covered the civilians with plants and tree roots but only had time to cover your upper body before the blast went off. You took some debris full force, leaving you with deep cuts. Most of the them were healed by now, only the deepest still scars.

You weren’t sure that the civilians safety mattered to your boyfriend, Logan, as much as it did to you though. He always had so much adrenaline after a mission. He usually dragged you to the back of the plane and fucked you senseless to work it off. He would fuck you double when he got ahold of you this time, his fear taking the forefront. He wanted to fuck you to make sure you were real. Make sure you were safe in his arms and stuffed with his cock. He did the same when he had nightmares about you hurt or killed. He usually woke you, cock nudging at you, until he was sure you were awake. He’d plunge inside, fucking you until he was sure it had been a dream. Just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. Being buried deep inside you was the best way for Logan to bring himself back to reality. And boy, you’d fucked up this time. You were in for the most animalistic version of Logan there was.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked, hand soft on the inside of your elbow. You nodded at him, appreciative of the concern in his voice. They all knew what was to come and while they knew Logan would never hurt you, they always checked on you, to be sure you could handle him.

“LILLY.” You heard a deep voice shout your moniker and you turned towards it. Logan was striding towards you, lit cigar hanging out of his mouth. You rolled your eyes, you were fine, no one dead, the big bad in custody. He didn’t speak again until he reached you, grasping you roughly by the arm.

“What were you thinking?” He snarled, animal inside him beginning to take over.

“I was thinking I was saving some civilian lives.” You responded dryly, annoyed at his reaction. This was your job. Saving people from evil. There was always a risk with it. He needed to get over it. He began tugging you towards the helicopter, all the other mutants clearing out of your way as he thundered along.

“You could have gotten yourself KILLED.” He growled, spinning so that you were chest to chest. Even in your irritation with him you still reveled in the feel of his hard body against your softer one. He looked down on you, hazel eyes hard but laced with concern.

“I’m fine Logan, I heal nearly as fast as you do. It’s a scratch now.” You assured him, placing your hands on his chest. You moved his hands to your tattered jumpsuit leg, showing him the pretty pink scar that would disappear within the hour. His fingers trailed the puckered flesh, still sensitive from healing.

“You could have DIED.” He reiterated. His mouth crashed to yours, cigar in his hand now. His other hand grabbed the back of your neck to anchor you in place. A fire started to burn in your body and you couldn’t wait to get back to the plane. To let Logan work his frustrations and fears out, using you. You decided not to argue this time, to let him take what he needed. “I’m not losing you.” He said, his voice softer, but still a low and threatening rumble throughout his chest.

“Hey good job Lil!” A voice shouted at you from across the wreckage. “You saved the day out there. The way you handled all that debris being thrown at you? Amazing. You almost died! It was an intense moment.” Scott laughed, clapping you on the shoulder even though you were still chest to chest with Logan. The motion knocked you into him and it broke the calm over the two of you. Logan hardened, features distorted with annoyance and anger. He shot Scott a glare, mouth curling into a snarl. Scott knew that you were a sensitive spot for Logan so he’d take any opportunity to dig at Logan. Scott had never gotten over Logan’s little crush on Jean, even after the two of you had gotten together. So when the opportunity to push Logan’s buttons arose, Scott would always take it.

It didn’t make sense, he wasn’t reaping any rewards, except for keeping Logan away from Jean. Which hadn’t been an issue in at least a year and if you were being honest with yourself, wasn’t entirely Logan’s fault in the first place. The feeling had been mutual between them but Scott had a tough time seeing it that way.

Logan hauled you over his shoulder, cigar back in his mouth as he stalked towards heli-carrier that housed the X-Men on their trip back from a mission.

“Don’t you think you’re being dramatic?” You asked and only got an angry grunt in return.

“Don’t you think nearly getting yourself killed is a little dramatic?” He snapped as he walked up the ramp.

When Logan got dominant like this, it brought out his animalistic side and you ended up covered in his marks. He found your room, a shared one, and shut and locked the door behind him.

He flopped you down on the small bed, releasing himself from his uniform quicker than usual. He always went commando so he was standing before you completely naked before you even had a chance to blink. You moved to get yours off but he beat you to it, tearing the uniform with his bare hands. Charles was not going to be happy about having to replace yours, again. Logan did the same with your bra and underwear and while you thought he was being a touch ridiculous, it was also hot.

You were in for it rough this time. He was high on adrenaline, pissed, and worried. He didn’t hardly take any time to prep you, but it didn’t matter. You were so wet at the manhandling that when he thrust two fingers in you it wasn’t enough, you needed more. He replaced his fingers with his cock giving you enough time to adjust so he wouldn’t hurt you. You could hear his heavy breathing from above you, his nostrils flaring as he exercised every inch of his control. When you were ready for him you told him so and he gave you a few sharp thrusts to make sure. Logan wasn’t a small man in that area, thick and long, so he had to make sure you were ready.

Once he decided you were he started a brutal and relentless pace that only Logan could keep up with for an extended period of time. Your body heated at his dominance, the way that he chased his own release without worrying about yours. But that’s because he knew you would come either way. Your hand traveled down your body, reaching for your clit to give yourself a little extra pleasure. Before you could, your hands were pushed away, stretched out above your body as Logan’s fingers circled around it instead. His body was warm against yours, his thrusts hard and unending. His thumb circled the nub, his teeth marking your breasts. The pressure he put on your clit was intense and you pushed closer and closer to orgasm. His grunts and groans were increasing in volume and he sounded like a wild man, a caged animal. Your body ached for your orgasm, you could almost taste it, so when he bent to bite on your nipple you lost it. Screaming and clenching around him, your hips met his thrust for thrust until it was over.

Once you came down, he pulled out, flipping you onto your stomach. He crawled up your body, entering you again this time, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking your head backwards. The arch in your back allowed him deep, his balls slapping your clit with each thrust. He bent to bite his way across your neck and shoulder, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm.

“Think again, little girl, before you try to sacrifice yourself when I’m around.” He grunted, smacking your ass to emphasize his point. His name was falling from your lips, punctuated only by your groans. His words were the only reminder about why he was fucking you like this. Even though you didn’t sacrifice yourself, it felt like it to him. Your hands were braced on the bed, but he grabbed them one by one, not releasing your hair. He pinned them behind your back and held them down. You were at his mercy, you were his toy. You didn’t have the strength to get him off of you but you didn’t want to. You loved when he pinned you. Made you helpless for him. This was your favorite way to get fucked by Logan, hard, rough, and fast. Your second orgasm was building, and when Logan bit down on your right shoulder you fluttered around him. His bites got rougher when he got closer and he usually broke skin when he came.


“Fuck. I’m gonna come in this sweet pussy.” He told you, teeth catching your ear and smelling your hair, his secret kink. He loved the way you smelled when you were turned on. His sense of smell was so strong that your sex pheromones always pushed him over the edge. You always knew he was close when he did this and you knew if you wanted to come a second time you’d have to work for it. But you were surprised when he let go of your hair and moved to focus on your clit instead. His circles the little bud, increasing his pressure with each pass. Before you knew it you were screaming your release, clamping down on his cock. It triggers his own orgasm and he roars, thrusting to the hilt and sinking his teeth in your shoulder hard enough to break skin. He empties himself into you, cock twitching in tune with your pussy pulsing.

“Fuck. That was fucking good.” He growled in your ear, rubbing his face against your hair to soak up your scent. He releases your arms, pulling you upright against him. “Don’t scare me like that again. I don’t want to lose you.” He admits. You nodded, your body aching from the marathon his body had put you through. He spun you, kissing you gently. “I love you.” He grunts, letting his softer side show. The two of you get dressed, stealing kisses and touches between layers of clothes. When you walk out to join the others, the bite marks Logan had left on you were only small scars, save the one that broke skin. It was red but healing, barely visible under your top.

Everyone eyes Logan warily, wondering if he’d worked out all his anger. He lays a hand softly on your hip, kissing your temple and you could feel the welcome sigh of relief from everyone else.

“Are we ready to go?” He asks, strapping you into your seat before he straps himself in. Charles nods at Scott and Storm and they start to take off.

[acatalystrising]

At long last, I have retuned!

My “brief” hiatus ended up being much longer than anticipated, it’s been a year 😅 but I’m happy to get back on here, and most importantly, back to writing! I have so many Boba stories planned, both current (Moth to a Flame) and new! The first one I’m working on is based on a song, here’s a snippet of the lyrics so you get the idea…

“You put a spell on me

I'm losing my mind

You better stop things

It's a matter of time

Before I hunt you down

Grab your chin

And kiss your lips…”

It’s SO Boba-coded I can’t help but write something inspired by it, so stay tuned…

I genuinely am excited to be back on here and interacting with all of you again! Here’s to many more stories to come, and for those who celebrate, Happy Thanksgiving!

(Tagging the Boba besties so you all have been warned of the spicy things coming…): @daimyosprincess @ceapa-mica @rexxdjarin @maybege @bobafetts-princess @bobathirstaccount @deewithani @die-herzlos-engel @thirsty-boba-fett-posts

[firstofficerwiggles]

Space Husband 🥰

Really wish I could be writing more about the Space Husband and not having to do so much writing for my actual career. Anyway here's my favorite picture of Din right now to cheer myself up.

Now you share a pic or gif of your favorite Space Husband with me

No pressure tags: @grogusmum @moonstrider9904 @acourtofsnakes @boomtowngirl @zinzinina @oonajaeadira @bobafetts-princess @mandos-cyarika @imabeautifulbutterfly @startrekkingaroundasgard @ladykatakuri @becks-things or anyone else who sees this and wants to play

[ladykatakuri]

Falling

A/N: Well hello there! This is a little Tech drabble I just had to write after watching the TBB season 2 finale. It has been a while that I have been very active and I am planning on being active again soon, more active that is. If you have not watched the S2 finale of TBB, then this does contain spoilers! As always, all likes, shares and especially comments are more then welcome!

Character: Tech

W.C: 349

TW: Implied serious injury

Darkness. A deep darkness now seems to surround him completely.The last thing he saw were Omega and Wrecker reaching for him.  At first there is a distant sound of the mountains and the surrounding terrain that provide him with some comfort. All too sudden that too fades into nothing. Now, all that is left is the sensation of actually losing all of his senses. Where there used to be sounds, silence remains. Not even the beating of his own heart can be heard. The feeling of the wind blowing across his skin and his muscles contracting after eventful times have slowly numbed. Taste was the last sensation to go. The taste of bile that found its way into his mouth when he realized the situation he and his brothers and sister were in, the decision he immediately made. “I am falling.”

He is left with his thoughts as he falls. “I have failed and so I fall.” He waits and it seems to take forever to reach the end of itl. Suddenly, all sensations return , all at once. His body overwhelmed by the sudden shock of their return, the last thought before his mind completely shuts down is for his family, all of them. “Be safe.”

When the stormtroopers reach him, what stands out is his little smile.

Hemlock observes the medic through a transparisteel window before he taps it once, gesturing for the medic working on the person lying on the cot to come to him. “I will be taking those goggles now.” Taking the goggles from the side table, the medic takes a quick look at its owner now lying in a deep coma, hooked up and well monitored. “I will be offworld to collect a new specimen. Comm me as soon as he is awake and bring the other one to the medical trials.” Hemlock moves away, goggles in one hand as he looks at a message he received not too long ago speaking of the female clone he will soon have control over and thus over the Kaminoan scientist currently in a holding cell.

Taglist: @imabeautifulbutterfly@chaoticvampirejedi@hellothere-generalangsty@cyroku@reluctant-mandalore@uponrightful@zinzinina@saradika@galacticgraffiti@ashotofspotchka@dindjarindiaries@dinbeskarbaby@djarrex@djarinsbeskar@rowansparrow@photogirl894@rigelmoonshine@rigel-the-moonstrider@nahoney22@loth-wolffe@neon-junkie@bobafetts-princess@cyarbika@charnelhouse@zoeykallus@kin-rokku@jgvfhl@honestly-shite@here-comes-the-moose@dindjarindiaries@firstofficerwiggles@fictional-men-ruin-lives @ladysongmaster @lozalot @moonstrider9904@lorjukka@m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @rain-on-kamino @monako-jinn-stories @middimidoris @wild-karrde @cross-my-heartt @arctrooper69 @eyecandyeoz

[boozeandbaddecisions]

Woo another month down. Just like before let's talk about the homies

@burningfieldof-clover - Welcome for round two homie. Placed here due to her blog being 18+. Go show her some love.

@ghostlythunderbird - Spice dealer just posted her first A/B/O fic and boy...it's gonna be fun. If you need some new COD content, go bug her. Send thots. You'll be surprised what she might send back.

@rain-on-kamino - Go bug her. She's great. Send her all the cute Howzer and Echo stuff you can find. Also her Shades of Dates Fic ain't too shabby ;)

@tech-deck - If you want some good soup on Tech, they are who you go find (psstt, I'm also waiting to meet your OC one day. No pressure, but I'm excited)

Writing

Barracks Bunny Request - König x F!Reader - @devilanon

141 + König x Fem! Reader Going Down on Them - @starstruckmiraclekitty

Enough - König x F!Reader - @saltofmercury

The Imperial Bad Batch x Fem!Reader - Dangerous Seduction HC's Part 4 Of 5 (Wrecker) - Imp!Wrecker x F!Reader - @zoeykallus

König Request - König x Reader - @ghosts-bandwagon

Kinktober Day 8 - Creampies - Paz Vizsla x AFAB!Reader - @bobafetts-princess

Love You Want - Wrecker x F!Reader - @eyecandyeoz

Mäuschen - König x F!Reader - @namedlunagoddess

Meet Me in the Afterglow - Imp!Wrecker x F!Medic!Reader - @starryevermore

Nachtisch - König x Reader - @daisies-daydreams

[starlightrows]

Things I’m Proud Of 2021

I started this blog in November 2020. So I’ve had this blog for a little over a year, effectively just the year 2021. I feel like I’ve come a long way, and I know many of you have too. So here are some things I’m proud of from this year, and I invite everyone to either reblog with things they’re proud of or just take a minute to privately be proud of yourself.

I am proud of:

Finding my own voice and style in writing

Writing my first smut fic after over ten years of reading other’s work

Starting my big multi series writing project I’ve been dreaming of since I started this blog

Let go of some of the things I knew were dragging me down

Graduating college

Getting my first big girl job

Tagging some mutuals, friends, people I admire… but all are welcome and encouraged to participate!

@thefact0rygirl @maybege @beskarprincessjenny @samrubio @hdlynnslibrary @princessbatears @bobafetts-princess @soclonely @lilhawkeye3 @ortizshinkaroff @firstofficerwiggles @escapedthesarlacc @catawampuscorner @clonewarslover55 @2clones-1kamino

[queen--kenobi]

Thanks for the tag @rain-on-kamino, @galacticgraffiti, @book-of-baba-fett, and @spaceydragons !!! I’m so late on this 

Rules: Write the latest line from a WIP and tag as many people as there are words in the line. Make a new post!!

“We’ll worry about that when we get there.”

@purgetrooperfox @thefact0rygirl @sith-lord @canichangemyblogname @wild-karrde @laserbrains @bobafetts-princess @ashotofspotchka 

[bobafetts-princess]

Logan Loves to Bite

Summary: This is quite literally an homage to how I feel that Logan Howlett fucks and that’s all there is to it.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: Established relationship, Logan bites sometimes hard enough to break skin, hair pulling, ass smacking, choking, oral (fem!receiving) rimming (fem!receiving), no condoms on this blog

A/N: Welcome to my most popular AO3 fic! If you’ve seen it there, I’m the same person! This one is my favorite Logan fic, it makes me unhinged every time I read it. I hope yall like it here ✨

It was just in his nature as a feral mutant. He bit. He bit when he was nervous or scared, and he bit when he got off.

He was lucky you had a great healing factor, while it wasn’t as quick as his (no ones was), it was still fast and your ‘love bites’ disappeared in a matter of hours. His mouth was always on you when the two of you fucked and Charles even had to sound proof your room because Scott and Jean kept complaining about all the noise.

His favorite way to fuck you was from behind, either his hand wrapped in your hair to give him leverage, or your body pulled up against his so he could bite his way along where your neck and shoulder met.

He was animalistic like that, wanting to take you from a position where he had the most power, the most control. He’d pull your body up so it fitted against his and wrap a hand around your throat, nose buried in your hair as he pounded up into you. His increased sense of smell was his secret kink. He could smell your arousal from rooms away and sometimes you would see if you could get yourself off before Logan found his way to your shared room, sniffing the air and taking over.

Every once in a while he would let you ride him, but it wouldn’t take long for him to pull himself up to you, sinking his teeth into the soft spot where your jaw and your neck meet. He would turn your head, whispering dirty words in your ear as he fucked up into you. He said he loved the scent you released when he was fucking you. He would bury his nose where you released the strongest scent, between your breasts or behind your ears or along the hairline on the back of your neck.

He loved to go down on you too, burying his nose in the crotch of your panties, inhaling deeply and telling you how fucking sweet you smelled. He was always leaving marks on the insides of your thigh as he worked his way towards the apex of them.


He’d grunt and groan, eating your pussy for all it was worth, pausing only to bite your inner thighs or dig his fingers into your hips. He always said he loved to bite the skin on your inner thighs the most. The part where it always seemed to be soft and pliable, no matter how hard you worked to make it go away. The bruises always faded faster than the bites, but he loved seeing you covered in them anyways.

Then he’d flip you over, smacking your ass and leaving red marks before he’d sink his teeth in the soft flesh. If he was feeling especially dirty, he would work his tongue towards your puckered hole, massaging the tight ring at the same time his hands did the same with your cheeks.

Logan would slip inside you, pressing until he was fully seated and you felt him in your throat. He’d give you a couple sharp thrusts, relishing in the way you’d gasp when he’d hit that spot. He’d pull your upper body backwards, fitting it against his hard chest as his teeth scraped along the edge of your ear and he would tell you how fucking good your pussy felt clamped around him. Logan liked to fuck and he liked to fuck dirty. He loved to get you so fucked out so you just fell asleep on his chest when he finally came, spent from hours worshipping your body. He loved to make you scream his name, loved when the only logical thought you could come up with was “Logan, Logan, Logan.”

He loved seeing the way your pussy looked stuffed with his cock, the way he stretched you as you gripped him. He loved the whimpers and whines you let loose when he had your hair fisted in his hands, or his fingers wrapped around your throat. He loved getting you so worked up you were begging for him to give it to you, begging for it harder, rougher, dirtier.

You’d long since given him the okay to bury himself in you if he woke up from a nightmare and you’d lost track of the amount of times that you’d been woken from Logan pushing into your wet heat, hands gripping tightly at your hips as he used your body to drown out his nightmares. He’d pin you down to the bed, needing the control as he pounded into you, teeth scraping along your shoulder blades until he finally bit down, grunting against your skin as he spilled himself into you.

He loved the little sigh of pleasure as he drove home for the first time, filling you completely. He loved the little gasps you released as he nibbled his way across your shoulders, the way you arched in for more. He loved the way that you arched when you came, highlighting your breast’s and making him all the more ready to nibble on them. He especially loved the way when he finally came, biting down hard enough to break skin, you would always let loose this throaty groan that shot straight to his groin. Because when it came down to it, you loved to be bitten as much as Logan loves to bite.

[ladykatakuri]

Alright! This is a really awesome idea and I think there are a lot of amazing people who can write, create art in some way for this. I might give it a try, if my muses will actually get off of their lazy, collective asses and actually help me write more! Might not be for every day, but hey! Even one story would be fun right ?

I am going to tag my taglist because there are amazing people on that list who I know create awesome things and others who might want to keep an eye out for this because ... it feeds our hunger for more....

Also... Perhaps an idea could be to do crossovers / AU`s for people who are in more fandoms or currently writing in different fandoms and might want to put the fandoms together with this ( just throwing it out there )

Taglist:  @imabeautifulbutterfly@chaoticvampirejedi@hellothere-generalangsty@cyroku@reluctant-mandalore@uponrightful@zinzinina@saradika@galacticgraffiti@ashotofspotchka@dindjarindiaries@dinbeskarbaby@djarrex@djarinsbeskar@rowansparrow@photogirl894@rigelmoonshine@rigel-the-moonstrider@nahoney22@loth-wolffe@neon-junkie@bobafetts-princess@cyarbika@charnelhouse@zoeykallus@kin-rokku@jgvfhl@honestly-shite@here-comes-the-moose@dindjarindiaries@firstofficerwiggles@fictional-men-ruin-lives @ladysongmaster @lozalot @moonstrider9904@lorjukka@m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @rain-on-kamino @monako-jinn-stories @middimidoris @wild-karrde @cross-my-heartt @arctrooper69

I'd like to propose something!!

I wasn't in this fandom last December but now I am and I'd like to do something fun!

So we know that they have Life Day in Star Wars, which I've assumed is the equivalent of Christmas? A lot of you guys did stuff for "Kinktober" so now I'm going to propose something if it's not already been proposed?

25 Days of Life Day! (Yes like Freeform's 25 Days of Christmas Lol)

Each Day you choose something that is in the Holiday Spirit. Here is my list that I will be sticking to if you want to go off of it. If you want to do something different, that's alright too! Especially if you don't celebrate Christmas! I just feel like it would be a lot of fun no matter what holiday you celebrate, and perhaps something neat to do for the holidays! Heck, if you wanna do the same character for all 25 days, that's fine too! PLEASE let me know what you think!

If you’re wondering what Life Day is, you can find out with this article! ALSO: If Any artists wanna participate, please feel free to do so! I would LOVEEE to see your work! <3

REBLOGS to signal boost would be really really appreciated!! <3

My 25 Days of Life Day under the cut!!!!

25 Days of Life Day:

Commander Cody - Tree Decorating

Captain Rex - Hot cocoa and fireplace cuddles

Gregor - Sledding

Commander Wolffe - Decorating the House

Hunter - Taking Omega skating and then making a snowman 

Tech - Making Fudge while he gives you the history of Life Day

Wrecker - Going to see the Life Day Light Displays

Echo - Decorating Gingerbread House

Crosshair - Decorating Firepuncher as a joke

 Fives - Cookie Decorating

 Howzer - Buying Matching Holiday sweaters

 Fox - Seeing a Life Day Ballet *Ex: Nutcracker

 Boba Fett - Decorating the Palace

 Din Djarin - Snowball Fight, getting Grogu gifts

 Free Space - Whatever you Want

 Sinker - Making Mulled Wine and Cider

 Thire - Wrapping Life Day Gifts for the entire Corrie Guard

 Thorn - Life Day Tree shopping

 Obi-Wan - Going to a Life Day Market

 Kix - Volunteering at a Food Bank

 Tup - Warm Bath together after going for a walk in the snow

 Dogma - Sucking on a Candy Cane and teasing him.

 Anakin Skywalker - Making snow angels

 Rebels Rex - Life Day Eve, Watching Life Day movies

 Your Choice - Life Day ( Mine: Wholesome Bad Batch opening presents)

I'm going to tag some people who may be interested!

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rexxdjarin @book-of-baba-fett @grievouus @dumfanting @madameminor @rain-on-kamino @sleepingsun501 @moonstrider9904 @wild-karrde @tecker @thebitchformerlyknownaskenobi @thefact0rygirl @neon-junkie @saradika @cyarbika @djarrex @literallydontlook @pinkiemme @fett-djarin @arctrooper69 @amyroswell @maulslittlemeowmeow @ladykatakuri @seriowan @zoeykallus @damerondala @space-girl-and-droids-art @kohtoyah @samrubio @obixwan @ashotofspotchka @gigilhermite @shyranno @art-of-the-twistedstitcher @cobaltbeam @amikoroyaiart @ethiobirds @lornaka @littlefeatherr

[bobafetts-princess]

Nightmares and Daydreams

Summary: Logan has a nightmare and he needs you.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Smut. Logan has nightmares and they’re violent. PiV (unprotected) (no condoms on this blog) fingering. Logan loves to bite. Logan has a pain kink.

A/N: This went opposite how I expected it to when I started writing it. It’s so much softer and sweeter and one of my current favorites. I hope you like it 🫶🏻

Logan has nightmares, almost every night. Sometimes they’re violent nightmares, ones where he’ll wake screaming and ready to attack. Ones where he’ll relive the horrors he’s committed and think about all the lives he’s taken. He’ll wake with his claws out, drenched in sweat as the guilt courses through him. Then the guilt will course through him again as you watch him from across the room, fear etched into your features. (He doesn’t realize it’s fear for him, not fear of him)

The guilt eats at him some more as the two of you make your way back to the local store and buy even more bed sheets because his claws tore them to shreds. But Logan is a selfish man and he loves you too much to release you from himself. And that makes him feel even guiltier.

Other nights, they’re paralyzing nightmares. He imagines what it would be like if they tried to take you from him. He can’t keep the thoughts of what Stryker would do to you out of his mind. If Stryker knew that you were the key to getting Logan to do almost anything, it would be his worst nightmare come to life. Thinks about the pain deep in his chest that your death, your torture, would cause him. He doesn’t want to, of course, but he can’t stop the racing thoughts as images of your mutilated body flash in his mind.

Those nightmares are the worst kind because he can’t move. He can’t break the spell himself and he can’t wake you and ask you to break it for him. He silently prays for you to wake and release him from the torment. It usually doesn’t take long but any amount of time to be trapped in those nightmares is too long.

Other nightmares aren’t paralyzing but he still gets flashes of your death. At least he’s not pinned in his agony, but they’re still horrific. He wakes with a gasp, reaching across the bed to make sure your body is still there, warm and soft. He breathes a sigh of relief as his fingers skim your skin, warm and soft. The need hits him almost immediately after he realizes it was just a nightmare. He imagined all those horrible things, they didn’t happen to you. You’re here with him, snoring softly, spent from your activities before bed.

It’s a common occurrence for Logan to wake and need you so desperately that he can’t do anything until he’s buried inside you. He’s long been given the authority to wake you in the middle of the night if he needs you.

He tries not to let the guilt eat at him that he’s waking you for his own needs. He tries so hard. He almost always fails.

So that’s what happens tonight. Logan wakes with a sharp gasp, trying to clear the image of you impaled on his claws from his head. He takes a few breaths as the image of Victor’s claws drawing across your throat flits into his brain. He hears a heavy breath from your side of the bed and relief floods his veins as he reaches for you.

Your skin is so soft under his rough fingers, the calluses that decorate his skin such a contrast to the smooth softness of you. The sheet has dropped while you sleep, exposing your back and Logan trails a finger down your spine. You jerk, only slightly, but it’s enough for him to know you’re waking. His lips brush the skin of your shoulder, a palm reaching around to cup your breast. A soft sigh leaves your lips when his thumb brushes your nipple and you reach back for him.

“A nightmare?” You ask.

“Yeah,” is all he gives you in return.

Rolling, you pull his face down to yours, running your fingers through his hair as he grabs at you. His knee spreads your legs, one hand slipping down to brush your clit. You arch up into him, gasping, and his mouth trails across your neck.

“Need you,” he says before his mouth finds a nipple. His fingers press into you, savoring the feeling of you gripping his fingers.

“Want to talk about it first?”

“No.”

That was always his response. When he woke you like this he never disclosed his nightmares, even after he’d worked out all his fears and desires. You thought it was because he didn’t want to scare you with the thoughts he had. You also thought that he didn’t want to relive them anymore than he had to.

You were right about both.

“Logan,” you sigh out as he presses two fingers inside you and curls them so you see stars. “Logan!” His teeth sink into your shoulder as you arch up against him. He’s so needy when he wakes like this and you’re happy to let him take, take, take, from you. You’re soaked, your pussy aching for more as he works another finger inside you.

When Logan wakes you up in the middle of the night like this, he usually never speaks. At least he doesn’t use words, he speaks with his body. Which is unlike Logan, who is usually a vocal lover. He loves to grunt and growl in your ear as he rails you. He’ll tell you every dirty thought that pops into his head. When he finally comes he usually gives you this deep growl that sounds almost beastly before he sinks his teeth into your skin.

But on nights he has nightmares he’s the exact opposite of that. He flips between needy and desperate, two sides of the same coin. Some moments it’s like he can’t get enough of you, his mouth covering your entire body in his kisses. Other times it’s like he doesn’t want to live another minute without being inside you and if he doesn’t take you right that second he’s going to burn up.

That’s the point he’s reaching currently, less lips and more teeth with his kisses. It won’t be long before the head of his cock is pressing into you and you gasp when you feel him.

“Logan,” you cry out, fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders. He grunts, he likes the feeling of pain even if it doesn’t last, and snaps his hips forwards to enter you fully. His lips twist into a snarl before a nightmare passes in front of his vision and he softens. He leans down to kiss you, full of need and desire. His thrusts are still strong but not as sharp when breaks the kiss to breathe heavily in your ear. That’s almost the only noise you’ll get from him until morning, the strained breathing in your ear as he savors the feel of you. The feel of you under his hands. The feel of you gripping his cock. The way you taste on his tongue.

“I love you, Logan,” you whisper, pressing kisses along the beard on his jawline. Just because he doesn’t talk during times like this doesn’t mean that you can’t fill the empty space. He gives you a soft grunt, his hand running down your leg to hike it up his back. This new position gives him an opportunity to go deeper and he does. His hips are snapping up against a spot that makes your eyes roll back into your head every time he thrusts forwards.

He’s calm, quiet, very unlike himself so you know this nightmare must’ve been bad. Or the flashbacks, or whatever images he’s seeing when he sleeps are still happening right now, even though he’s inside you.

“I love you,” you whisper again in his ear and he presses his face against your neck, breathing in your scent deeply. “I’m here,” you tell him, thrusting your hips down onto him, taking over from the bottom as best you can. “I’m safe,” you say, “I’m fine. I’m here with you.”

His hands haven’t left your body, gripping at you as if he’s trying to make sure you actually are underneath him. Taking him. He gives you a small nod as you speak, you feel it, you don’t see it because his face is still tucked into your neck. Your hands traverse his back and shoulders whispering sweet nothings as the two of you fuck. It’s not really like fucking, it’s closer to making love, but it’s not that either. There’s too much need to be considered making love, but there’s too much adoration and passion to be considered fucking. Either way, the two of you move like that for what feels like hours, Logan pressing up into you and you pressing down onto him. You talk the entire time, telling him how much you love him, how you’re safe and happy to be here in his arms.

Eventually, his thrusts pick up speed and you know he’s getting close. His lips find yours again, his hand curling around the back of your neck to keep you in place but also to anchor himself. His breathing gets heavy as he shoves his tongue in your mouth.

“I love you, Logan,” whisper to him when he breaks the kiss, arching up as his thrusts get sharper and more powerful. You’re close, you’ve been staving off an orgasm for a good while now so that you can come together. Logan growls deep in his chest, the barest hint of your name can be discerned from the sound and when he reaches between your bodies to stroke your clit, you both break.

“Oh my god, Logan!” You shout, body tense as he fucks you both through it, his teeth sunk into the skin of your shoulder. It hurts but it toes that beautiful line between pain and pleasure. You don’t even realize it until Logans eyes roll back into his head that your fingernails are gripping his broad shoulders so hard that you’ve broken his skin. It doesn’t take but seconds to heal of course, but it helps Logan draw out his orgasm just that little bit longer.

The two of you lay there together, panting and connected for quite a while, just enjoying the presence of one another. Eventually he rolls off you, moving to the bathroom to gather a washcloth and clean you both up before he curls back into bed with you. His body, long and strong, curls around yours and you tangle your fingers together.

“Was it a bad one tonight?” You ask, thinking about how needy and off he seemed. Logan only gives a nod, his eyes far away. “I’m safe sweetheart,” you tell him and he nods again. “Nothing is going to hurt me as long as you are around,” you tell him, bringing his hand to your mouth and kissing the tips of his fingers. “Not while these are here to protect me,” you smile, turning your hands over so you can press soft kisses to the knuckles where his claws come out. He gives you a soft smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and leans in for a kiss.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he says but you shake him off. “Go back to sleep,” he kisses you again and then tucks your face into his shoulder. You can still sense the fear on him but you don’t press your luck and do your best to fall back into a fitful sleep, tucked against the love of your life.

Logan never falls back asleep.

[bobafetts-princess]

Stranger and the Bear Pt1

Summary: A handsome stranger has been warming a stool at the bar you work at. What happens when ghosts from the past make an appearance?

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: drinking, a touch of Logan smoking the cigar, abusive relationship mentioned (no abuse shown), I think that’s all for this chapter

A/N: if you saw this on ao3, I’m the same person! I’m deep in a Logan crisis and have been thinking about moving my Logan fics over to tumblr so his resurgence has given me the boost I need!

Part 2 can be found here

“Hey stranger!” You shout to your newest bar customer, tossing a coaster in front of him before turning around and grabbing his usual.

“Hey Bear,” he responds, his deep voice silky and rough at the same time.

“I can’t believe you still call me that,” You laugh, “it’s been like, three months.”

“You mentioned it first, so I ran with it.” He smiles and winks playfully at you, the most lighthearted you’ve ever seen him. The tall and handsome stranger had first come into the bar you work at a few months ago, ordering a whiskey neat and a beer.

You’d given him your name in the hopes that he would give you his in return, but no luck. “My childhood classmates called me care bear though, they claimed I was as sweet and cuddly as a care bear,” you tell him, smiling at the old memory.

“Care bear, huh?” The stranger had said, deep voice rumbling through his chest. “How about just Bear?”

“Ooh! I like that,” you say before asking him what he would like to drink.

The two of you had fell into an easy camaraderie, always some light flirting, at least from your end. You’d never asked his name and he’d never offered. Your stranger was a good looking man, neatly trimmed facial hair and sideburns, usually in a leather jacket and form-fitting jeans. He was the definition of ‘hate to see them leave, love to watch them walk away’ and you looked forward to the one or two days a week he would come in. He was always respectful, drank the same thing, and left a decent tip.

The evening passed in a blur, patrons coming and going but your stranger stayed where he was. You refilled his drinks at the exact moment he was finishing the last, that was your routine. You’d refill his drinks and he would hang out for a few hours. He watched you work, sometimes from behind dark sunglasses, sometimes through hazel green eyes.

“Hey Bear, c’mere.” Your stranger asked, cigar hanging from his mouth. You made your way towards him, thinking about how no matter how much he drank, he seemed perfectly sober. “You from ‘round here?” He asked, no sunglasses today. You could see his pupils were blown and for the first time in two months you wondered whether he was actually buzzed. He smelled like good worn leather and the cigar he was smoking. You had to prevent yourself from closing your eyes when you inhaled his scent.

“Uhh, sorta kinda. Why?” You told him, shocked at the personal question, and also embarrassed.

The truth was that you weren’t from here, you’d moved here to be with an ex-boyfriend and it had ended badly. You’d gotten home from work one night to find the locks had been changed on the apartment as well as his phone number. Come to find out, he’d been sleeping around on you since you started dating and decided he liked his side piece more. So you’d called your boss, Sally, begging for somewhere to stay and she rented you the studio apartment upstairs. You struck up a deal, the apartment for half price as long as you closed the bar down every night.

When your ex’s side-piece decided she didn’t like him as much as she'd originally thought, he’d begun stalking you and things had gone downhill. He tried to get physical with you once but Sally had threatened him with a shotgun and he hadn’t shown his face again. That was ABOUT the same time your stranger had started coming to the bar, and for some reason you felt safer when he was there.

Apparently Sally did too because on nights he showed up, she took off early and let you close down by yourself.

“So I presume you know that guy in the corner over there? He’s been watching you most of the night.” He told you, clamping the cigar between his index and middle finger. You began to turn your body in the direction of the person he was talking about but a warm hand a-top yours stopped you. “Don’t make it obvious, Bear. Don’t want him to know.” His eyes raked down your body as he was speaking, drinking you in. You weren’t wearing anything fancy, fitted jeans and a black cropped tank with the bars logo on it, but the way he was looking at you made goosebumps cover your skin.

Forcing your mind back to the issue at hand, you glance in the corner, keeping your body facing your stranger. When you caught sight of the face in the corner, you paled. It was your ex, and Sally was gone, her shotgun locked in her office.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Your stranger asked, noting your expression, his hand rubbing back and forth across your knuckles. If you hadn’t been worried, you would have blushed at the way his hand held yours and the nickname he called you.

You forced your voice to sound normal when you spoke again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just ghosts from the past.” You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes and were surprised to look up and find your strangers face held concern and a touch of tenderness.

“I’m gonna stick around late tonight, Bear. So keep ‘em comin’.” He told you and you felt a bit safer.

You worked the night away, one eye on your next drink ticket and one eye in the corner where your ex sat, unmoving. Your stranger did the same, only he kept one eye on you and one eye on your ex. At ten till close your voice rang out into the emptying bar, “last call!” The few that were still hanging out left not too long after, leaving you, your stranger, and your ex in the bar. You chose not to acknowledge that you knew it was him, hoping that the dark shadows of the bar would convince him that you didn’t notice who he was. After a few tense moments he stood, heading towards the front door so you turned to your stranger.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, Bear.” He said, the sultry tones of his voice soothing you. You took a glance at his retreating back before turning around and starting your wipe down of the back bar. A rough hand grabbed your wrist, pulling and making your body spin. It happened so fast that you didn’t get a good look at the face until it was the only thing in your line of sight. It was your ex, which shouldn’t surprise you but somehow it did. Your voice caught in your throat and you couldn’t attempt to shout for help from your stranger, your fear paralyzing you.

“I thought your miserable ass left this fucking town.” He snarled in one ear, face pressed against yours.

“You would think that when I left you, you’d have tucked that tail and ran back to mommy and daddy. Why are you still fucking here??” He sneered and you could smell the alcohol on his breath and when he pulled back, your wrist in his hand, you could see that his pupils were blown wide. He was high too, but you didn’t know what on. You didn't know why he was so obsessed with you, it wasn't like you had a great and powerful love. You thought his feelings were just hurt because you didn't take him back. “You stupid. Fucking. Bit-“ But he didn’t get a chance to finish because his body was ripped away from yours. You blinked and saw your stranger standing over him as he lay on the floor where he’d been thrown.

“Attacking a woman while she’s alone?” He snarled, that deep vibrato now a growl. He picked your ex up by the front of his shirt, his strength shocking you. “You piece of shit. Picking on a woman half your size while she’s alone?” He growled, shaking your ex while he was holding him up in the air. “What kind of an asshole gets off on that?” Your legs were shaking so bad that you sunk to the floor, the butt of your jeans wet from the beer and liquor that had been spilled during the course of the evening.

Your ex looked terrified, used to always being the bigger in a fight but he looked like a teenager next to your stranger. His mouth was moving wordlessly, almost like he was trying to make sounds but was too frightened.

“I’m not gonna hurt you tonight, but I swear to god if you come back, I’ll rip you limb from limb. And I’ll be here every night to make sure she stays safe. Get outta here before I change my mind, you piece of shit.” He snarls, dropping your ex unceremoniously on the floor in a heap of fear and embarrassment. He scrambles to his feet, sprinting towards the front door, letting it slam behind him. You see your stranger following behind him to lock the door before your vision starts to swirl with the beginnings of a panic attack.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.” You repeat over and over to yourself when you feel a large, warm hand on your shoulder and a low gravelly voice speaking in your ear.

“Bear. Bear. Are you alright?” You continue your breathing, adding a small nod to ensure your stranger you were fine.

“I’m gonna pick you up. You live upstairs right?” He asked and in the back of your mind you wondered how he knew that. But thoughts left your mind as strong arms wrapped underneath your legs and behind your back. Your heart rate was slowing, and your panic attack subsiding, so when he asked you which way the stairs were you were able to answer. His strong body carried yours up the stairs and into the studio apartment you resided in, slowing as he crossed the threshold.

“I’m okay to stand. You can put me down.” You told him, but he seemed hesitant and you swore he clutched you even tighter to his body. “Really, Stranger, I’m okay.” You said, smiling up at his kindness.

“Logan.” He whispered as he lowered your legs onto the ground, arm staying around the small of your back until he was sure you were okay on your own two feet.

“What?” You asked, not sure of what he said.

“Logan. My names Logan.” He repeated, fingers digging into the exposed flesh of your hip, biting slightly.

“Okay, Logan. It’s nice to not refer to you as Stranger in my mind.” You giggled. You stepped reluctantly away from his embrace, heading towards your ‘kitchen’. “Would you like a drink, Logan? All I have is beer and water.”

You heard him clear his throat and when you looked at him, he looked like he was warring with himself.

“Uhh, ya, sure Kid. Bear. I’ll have a beer.” He said and for the first time since you’d met him, there was a twinge of uncertainty in his voice. You popped the top on two, handing him one before heading to the small couch you had, a mere 10 feet from your bed. He followed, sitting next to you and doing his best to make sure he wasn’t touching you, but the area was so small that your knees touched anyways.

“So that was my ex. He was stupid enough to try and get physical with me once. Sally threatened him with a shotgun. I didn’t think he would be stupid enough to try it twice.” You tried to explain without going into the entire sordid story.

“I’m going to tear him in half.” He answered, taking a long pull of his beer and you felt ashamed at what the dominance in his voice did to your lady bits.

“I don’t think he’ll be stupid enough to try this again so hopefully I don’t ever have to worry about him again.” You assured your stranger.

“Logan.” You mused aloud, a small smile crossing your face.

“Ya, Bear?” He answered, thinking you were going to ask him a question.

“It’s such a normal name.” You snickered.

“What’s wrong with my name?” He asked, faux defensiveness in his voice at your teasing.

“I’ve wondered for WEEKS what your name was and it’s Logan. It’s so normal. It suits you though. I like it.” You smiled at him, hitching one knee up on the couch and turning your torso towards him.

“I’ll be comin’ by more often and stayin’ until the bar is locked down. Just to make sure that moron doesn’t come back.” He told you, venom in his tone, but in a way that had you suppressing a shiver. You wondered what he sounded like first thing in the morning, his voice filled with sleep. “What’re you thinkin’’ about, Bear?” He asked, almost knowing your thoughts. You flushed, embarrassed to be caught in your thoughts.

“Nothing, just how you manhandled him. I think you humbled him.” You lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t realize you were thinking about HIM manhandling you.

“He’s a lightweight. Pushin’ people around that are smaller than him.” He told you, eyes skimming over you. You heated at his gaze and wondered to yourself how long it had been since you’d gotten laid. When you couldn’t remember immediately you’d decided it had been too long. “People like him always need to be manhandled, otherwise they don’t learn their lessons,” You glanced at his beer, bartender habit, and stood to get him another. Yours was still half full, so you only popped the top off of one and brought it back to him. You felt his eyes glued to your frame as you walked and tried not to let it go to your head.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He told you, even though he took the beer from your hands when you stretched it out to him.

“Thank you Logan. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there. How did you know I lived upstairs though?” You asked, the memory hitting you quick.

“I’ve heard you speak to the woman about rent. Sally? And I’ve stayed after a few times when I come by to make sure you get to your car, and you never come out of the building. The lights go out though.” He told you, unashamedly. You were struck by the kindness of this stranger. He was looking out for you and you hadn't even known. He watched out for you and all you'd ever offered him was a warm smile and a cold beer. Your breath hitched in your throat as you muttered out a small thank you to him, but he simply shrugged and took a long pull.

"I don't know how to thank you." You admitted to him but he waved you off.

"Don't worry about it, kid." He said, finishing his beer. You decided it was better off to just thank him in a different way, probably with free booze. You decided in that moment that this man would never pay for another drink in the bar again, and you felt that Sally would agree. You would speak with her about it first thing in the morning, after you filed a restraining order.

[bobafetts-princess]

Stranger and the Bear Pt2

Summary: Logan has literally tossed your ex out of the bar and taken you upstairs to your apartment. Sexy stuff follows 👀👀

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut. Lots of it. Oral (both receiving). PiV. Condoms don’t exist on this blog (use them irl, pls). Hair pulling, Logan talks dirty. God I want him to blow my back out.

A/N: If you’ve seen this on ao3, I’m the same person! I have Logan brain rot 😩

Pt. 1 can be found here!

“Thank you, Logan. I really mean that.” You said, trying to interject as much appreciation into your voice as possible.

“There’s nothing you need to thank me for,” Logan said, glancing over at you. You finished your first beer, getting up off the couch again to get another. You heard the couch shift and heard Logan ask where the trash can was but when you turned to tell him, he was right there. Logan was close enough that you were almost chest to chest, the only time you’ve ever been thankful for a small kitchen. He’s tall, definitely taller than you, and when you glance up at him you can see the desire in his features. You aren’t sure which one of you makes the first move, you just know that one second he’s in front of you and the next second his lips are on yours. Their softness surprises you, but the way he grabs at your body is anything but soft.

“God, please tell me you want this,” he groans, his lips sucking at a soft spot on your neck. “I’ve wanted this for weeks,” he says, large hand cupping your ass.

“I want this. I’ve thought about this so many times over the past couple months.” You admit, gasping at the feel of his mouth on your skin. And you had, countless nights you’d envisioned what he’d be like in your bed. Would he be rough? You thought so. Would he be vocal? Definitely, you felt like. Was he dominant? Did he like to pull hair? You definitely felt like your questions were going to be answered soon and you couldn’t wait.

“Fuck, Bear. I’ve thought about this so many times. Do you understand how much I've wanted to bend you over the bar top?” He told you, running his hands up and down your sides, kissing you in between his words.

“Me too.” You admitted, hot at the fact that he thought about you in that matter.

“You’re gonna look so fuckin’ good stuffed with my cock.” He said and his words made something hot shoot through your body as his hands worked their way into your hair, pulling your body against his. Vocal was definitely a yes. His lips seal over yours and you lean into him, hands on his strong shoulders.

“Fuck Bear,” He grunts, breaking the kiss to work his way down your neck. Suddenly, his hands grasp under your ass, lifting you and settling your core against his hardening length. You gasp, arching, and his lips find a sweet spot on your collarbone, making you groan. He walks through your apartment, but his legs were so long and your apartment was so small that it only took him four large strides to make it from the refrigerator to the bed where he laid you down. Your legs were still hooked around his hips, but he stood as straight as he could and looked down at you. His hand cupped your cheek and he slid it around to grasp your neck. "I'm gonna fuck you so good tonight." He promises and you shiver, grinding down on his cock through your combined sets of jeans.

His hands reach behind his back and unlock your legs from his hips, placing your feet on the floor. You whimpered at the loss of contact but Logan chided you.

“I gotta get these off, you impatient brat.” He said, his tone affectionate. He undoes the button on your jeans with a flick of his wrist. “And this,” He says, shifting the material of your top up. “As much as I love it, it’s gotta come off for all the things I’ve got planned for you.” His promises make you pant with need and excitement. His strong hands pull your jeans down your legs, admiring the little pink panties you had on. His fingers tug at the little bow on the front before his attention switches and he’s taking your top and bra off.

“God,” he says, cupping your breasts. “They’re as perfect as I thought they would be,” you flush and gasp when his rough fingers find your nipples and pinch. He takes his time worshipping your body, finding all the spots that made you arch, groan and let out breathy moans tainted with his name. His mouth works across your body, sucking on some spots and nibbling on others. His hands cup your breasts, his teeth pulling at your nipples and you found yourself already heading towards the edge. His hands finally work their way into your panties, covering the tips of his fingers with your slick before moving up to circle your clit. You gasp his name and he pulls back from your breast to look at you. “Can I take these off?” You nod and he strips you of them as he drops to his knees.

“What a pretty pussy,” he whispers, almost to himself as he presses two fingers inside you and It feels so good that you can’t even get a full sentence out. You need more but your words are stuck in your throat.

“Please,” you choke out, making Logan’s ears prick.

“Ask me again.” He demands.

“Please. Please more,” you tell him, voice stronger. His other hand comes down to touch your clit and you cry out his name.

“You like that, baby?”

“Fuck. Yes Logan.” You tell him, rocking your hips down on his fingers at a steady pace. He lets you take what you need, keeping the pressure steady. Fuck, you’re so close to the edge but you need something more. You don’t even have the chance to ask for more because Logan senses it. He shifts so one hand is inside you, one hand is pulling at your nipple, and then he leans down to give your pretty, neglected clit some attention.

“You’re going to taste so good,” he says before he leans down to get a taste. He groans before increasing his pace, pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you can’t hold off any longer. “Cum for me,” he tells you, “please,” and it’s his need to see you get off that finally pushes you over the edge. He works you through it, talking to you the entire time but everything sounds like you’re underwater so you couldn’t recall what he said even if you tried.

“Fuck.” He says once your breathing returns to normal, “you look so pretty when you come.” He kisses his way up your body before reaching your lips, this kiss full of passion and need. His clothes are still on and you make it a personal mission to get them off. You push the jacket down his shoulders, refusing to break the kiss. You toss it in a corner of the room before lowering your hands to work his belt buckle and jeans.

You get the belt off and the button popped, using your toes to get his jeans pushed down his well muscled thighs. He steps out of them, kiss becoming more rough and needy as he does. You slide your body off the bed, breaking the kiss, but when your hands go to pull off his underwear, you’re surprised to find he isn’t wearing any. He smirks at you then his pulls his white tank off, leaving him completely naked. You take a moment to enjoy the view, his hairy and well muscled body standing before you. You move and take Logan’s cock in your hand. He hisses through his teeth at your touch, his muscles rippling with restraint. He was thick. Thick thick. Not uncomfortably long, but definitely big enough to stuff you full. You take his head into your mouth, swallowing him down. His hands dig into your hair, the slight tug sending jolts down to your pussy.

“Ah. Fuck.” He grunts as you wrap your hands around him, swallowing his thickness inch by inch. “Fuck. That mouth is as good as I imagined.” He tells you, spurring you on. The hands surrounding him worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, eliciting more moans from him. You did your best to deep-throat him, going until you gagged. You started a good pace, taking as much of him in as you could, his hands in your hair encouraging you along. The longer you sucked, the rougher he got, pushing and pulling for you instead of with you. You loved it though, it turned you on. You let go, allowing Logan to work your mouth up and down his cock, hands stroking what you couldn’t fit. His grunts and growls became louder and louder as he raced towards his end but before you knew it, he was pulling you off. He grabs you by the elbow, roughly but carefully, and tosses you face down on the bed.

“As fuckin’ amazing as that mouth is, I wanna come inside this.” He said, two finger stroking down your pussy before plunging inside. He thrust into you roughly and you meet him stroke for stroke until he pulls out. You whined, close, but the head of his cock lined up with your entrance instead.


"Don't worry princess, you'll be full in jus' a second." He begins pushing inside, the stretch deliciously painful, Logan taking it slow so he doesn’t hurt you. He feeds you inch by inch until he bottoms out with a feral grunt.

“Fuck. Bear. This pussy will be the death of me.” He tells you, hand finding your hair and pulling you backward, asking if you were okay. When you tell him that you’re fine, you like it, he pulls a little harder. Your back arches, and he starts a rough pace, the angle allowing him deep with each thrust. You’re so keyed up already that it doesn’t take you long to reach the edge again. You reach between your legs to circle your clit, clamping down on Logan’s cock as the pleasure shoots through your body. “Fuck,” he grunts, “that’s right baby girl, touch your pretty pussy for me. I want to know what it feels like when you come all over my cock.” His words send you spiraling and you come again, crying out Logan’s name as you do.

When you come down, he let go of your hair and lets you fall naturally onto the bed, his hands digging into your hips as he holds you in place. He’s giving it to you, snarling his pleasure as he thrusts in and out of your ‘sweet pussy’ (his words).

Eventually he pulls out, flipping you over onto your back and sliding back in. One hand finds your breasts, pinching and pulling your nipples while the other finds the back of your neck, holding you in place so that he can kiss you as he fucks you. Your hands found his wrist instinctually, but you weren’t worried, you had a feeling that your stranger, your Logan, would never hurt you. His breathing is heavy in your ear as he sucks an earlobe into his mouth, biting down on the sensitive skin. It makes you gasp and tug at the hairs on the back of his neck, where your own hand was. His hips sputtered, his consistent pace breaking and you knew he was close. You fluttered your walls around him, and the hand that was around your neck moves to stroke your clit instead. You come undone for a third time, screaming your pleasure as you squeeze around him.

“Can I come inside you? Do you want me to pull out?” He asks and you think you’ll die if you don’t feel him coming inside you. So you tell him to come inside you and he groans, dropping his head to the curve of your shoulder.

He buries himself to the hilt and lets out an animalistic snarl as he reaches his end. His upper body collapses onto yours, his heavy build a nice pressure to ground you. He lays there for a moment, slowing his breathing until it was normal. He wraps both arms around your lower back, lifting the both of you as he locks his lips with yours. He starts the short walk to the bathroom and you wish it was longer because the man could KISS. He fumbles around the sink, grabbing the washcloth on the edge and running it under warm water, kiss never breaking and Logan never setting you down. He walks out of the bathroom, but turns, pressing your back up against the wall. He was still hard and you were still wet, so he slipped in easily and thrust lazily into you, never breaking the kiss.

“Fuck. This pussy is so good.” He says, thrusts becoming stronger and deeper as he finally broke the kiss. “I’m sensitive. I won’t last long.” He admits, teeth catching the shell of your ear as another orgasm built inside you.

“Me too.” Was all you could manage. His fingers plucked at your nipples and his teeth nibbled around where your shoulders and neck met. His thumb circles your clit, his thrusts hard and rough now, his hips moving at a relentless pace. Your orgasm hits with a vengeance and you clench hard against him, triggering his own orgasm. He roars, driving himself upwards and biting down on your shoulder, harder than any bite before this but god, it feels so good. Sated, he walks back to your bed, but he’s more exhausted than he’s letting on because once he lays you down gently, he collapses next to you.

“You okay?” He asks and your hand cups his cheek as he rolls to face you.

“I’m great,” you smile. “How about you?”

“Never been better,” and you get the feeling he’s being completely honest. After a few moments he takes the washcloth and wipes you clean, then himself and tosses it into the hamper.

He settles back in next to you, the both of you naked but Logan is warm and his natural heat wraps around you as he does. It doesn’t take long for the exhaustion to hit you and once Logan covers you up with the blankets, you’re quick to fall asleep. Logan, for the first time in years, sleeps soundly next to another human being.

[bobafetts-princess]

Good Luck Charms

Months 1-6

Summary: A nasty case has taken over the FBI and LASD headquarters. You’re paired up with Detective Magalon and it doesn’t start out well.

Pairings: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Benny and reader don’t get along and say some mean shit. Canon-typical sexism.

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this one for about a month and I think it’s ready to be posted. I hope yall like it!

Months 7-12 can be found here!

A file slaps down on your desk labeled ‘confidential’ and you look up to see your boss, Mike, standing there, brows furrowed. It’s a case you’ve been working on, suspected crime circle specializing in the trafficking of teenage girls.

“Bad news,” he starts and you stifle a groan as he sets down another file. When your boss says bad news it always leads to worse news than he’s letting on. “LASD already has a case going on this guy and his affiliates, so you’re going to be working with them to get him,” you flip open the file and skim the new file before you register what he said.

“LASD?” He nods at you and your stomach drops. “Which precinct?” The grimace he gives you confirms your worst fears.

“Uhhh,” he starts, pulling a little at his collar. “Nick’s precinct….” You stifle another groan and try to remain professional. Big Nick and his guys are the worst. Unless you’re talking about police work, then they’re the absolute best. There’s been many rumors through the grapevine over the years about their off-the-books parties after a big case or a load of passed of drug tests. You’d also heard that their police work was so solid that higher ups let these off-the-books parties slide. Big Nick himself has run off at least three female agents, unable to cede any ounce of power to a woman.

“Magalon,” Mike is saying but you missed the start of the sentence.

“Hmm?”

“Benito Magalon,” he says again, “goes by Benny or Borracho,” he repeats, glancing at his own case file. “He’s the lead on this.” Of course the lead on this case would be a guy whose nickname means drunk. Just your luck.

“You’ll go there through the week, but Fridays you’ll stop in and give me or Bob a brief of what you’ve done,” he was explaining and you nod. Today was Monday so you’d probably spend the whole week over there.

“Friday here or Friday there?”

“Friday there this week. You’ll need the time to build team trust, they’re a tight-knit group. Their last new member,” he glances at his file again, “Connors, joined close to 7 years ago. They’re wary of newcomers,” he explains. “Head on over there now, introduce yourself, and get settled. See you next week,” he grimaces again before taking off and heading back to his own office.

Figures. He’s not gonna introduce you or help you get settled, he’s probably just as terrified of Big Nick as all the other agents who know him. You gather your things, instructing your secretary to send over all the necessary files and head out.

***********

“Borracho!” Big Nick shouts and Benny’s head gives a thump.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Feds incoming. Gonna help you with that case,” he says, holding out his hand. Benny opens his drawer and passes over the bottle of Pepto. “Some dude named Mike? Said he was sending over his best. He’ll be here in 30,” Nick tells him in between swigs of Pepto. “I’m putting his desk next to yours,” he sets the bottle on Benny’s desk and meanders off, probably to tell someone else to move the desk.

Benny rubs at his temples. The feds are probably going to be more of a hindrance than a help, with their rules and regulations. He hates when Big Nick does this, passes off a big case to Benny cause he doesn’t want to do the legwork. And because Benny is the most organized of the group. It should be a compliment him but it feels more like Big Nick is simply pushing work into his lap.

But this case? This case is a goddamned nightmare. Every time he thinks he’s going to break it wide open, he ends up finding another sect of this guys operation. It’s huge, so far stretching from trafficking to coke to heroin to guns and bank robberies. There’s going to be so many agencies involved, so many fucking reports, so many goddamned trials. And Benny, Benito Magalon of the LASD, gets to be in charge of so much of it. He’s drowning in work, reports to siphon through, files to skim. He doesn’t even notice when a woman pops up in the bullpen, his head down and pen in hand as he makes notes.

He does, however, hear the low whistle coming from behind him. Zapata. Dumbass. Benny glances up and has to do a double take at the woman standing in the door. She’s gorgeous, but prissy looking. Her pantsuit and silk blouse probably cost more than his entire wardrobe and the only defining thing he can discern is that she’s stunning.

“How can I help ya?” Nick booms, crossing his arms across his chest as he looks you over. The whole bullpen has eyes on the interaction and Benny doesn’t see the point in not being a pair of them. You give your name, tell Big Nick that you’re fed, give your supervisors name and Nick laughs.

“You’re one of Mike’s best?” He laughs again and Benny feels a heat in his chest. One of annoyance and….anger? Is he angry on your behalf? He finds that he is. They’ve worked with women before, found them perfectly capable of doing their jobs. But here Nick is, acting like you’re not.

“As a matter of fact,” you snap, your voice coming out icy and professional. Benny feels a shot of sympathy for you. “I am his best.” Big Nick booms another chuckle and Benny sees your face tighten.

“Borracho!” Benny groans internally, he wishes they’d let that fucking nickname go. One time, years ago, he got hammered at a fancy event and had to be helped out by Nick and his first wife. The guys started calling him Borracho and it. Never. Fucking. Went. Away. He stands and takes the open space next to Big Nick. “Looks like this is your new partner,” he claps a hand on Benny’s shoulder, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. Benny knows his jaw is ticking, knows he looks frustrated, but he can’t make it stop. Some days, he gets so frustrated with Nick and his stupid macho act. Especially with this case trying his patience and exhausting him. “Least you got something pretty to look at while you work,” Nick snipes and Benny sees your eyes narrow, but they’re narrowing at…..HIM?

“Where am I putting my things?” You ask, lifting the box in your hand. Nick chuckles again, sweeping an open hand to the desk that’s directly across from the only other open one. Borracho’s desk, you assume. The man in question gives you a hard head jerk and shows you to your new desk, home for the foreseeable future.

You’re damned determined not to be the first one to talk, so you set your things down, unpacking. A nameplate with your rank, a small potted cactus, a couple framed pictures, and an armload of files. The activity in the bullpen resumes like you never appeared and Big Nick, still chuckling, heads back to his office. “A fucking chick,” you hear him mumble and there’s rage coursing through your veins. So when Benny asks you a question, something related to the case, you can’t help but snap at him.

“Detective,” you snap, fixing your cold hard gaze on him. “I’m sure I don’t want to be working alongside you every bit as much as you don’t want to be working alongside me. But we have a job to do and I intend on doing it. Whether you like the fact that I’m a woman or not.” Magalon’s lips curl up into a sneer as he responds.

“I don’t give a fuck about what’s in your pants as long as you can make my job easier.”

It’s bullshit. All men in this field care about what’s in your pants. Care if they can sweet talk you enough into taking them off. Care if you’re ’too emotional’ to get the job done. Care if your period is going to set you back a week in workloads. So, you sneer right back.

“I will not be taking shit from you and your crew. I will not be run off like the previous female federal agents that have worked here,” you tell him, raising your voice enough that you’re heard by everyone else except Nick.

It sets the tone for the beginning of your relationship.

*************

MONTH 1

Month 1 is rough. Neither of you speak to each other and when you do, the tone is downright nasty.

“Borracho!” Connors shouts as he comes in that morning. The man in question is sitting across from you, buried in files with tired eyes and slumped shoulders. It’s only 8 AM, how could he already be tired? Probably one of their infamous parties last night. (What you don’t know is that he was here until 2 in the morning and then back at 7)

You sneer at the stupid fucking nickname and Borracho glances up and sees you. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?”

“What’s with the stupid ass nickname? Can’t handle your alcohol?” You taunt him, piercing him with a nasty gaze.

“Maybe a good drink or two would make you less of a bitch,” he sneers right back but it doesn’t have the same venom that yours did. (What you don’t know is that Benny doesn’t hold anything against you, but he also isn’t going to sit there and take your shit either)

The guys exchange a glance, equal parts concerned and entertained.

“Borracho!” Yells Big Nick as he comes out of his office. There’s that stupid fucking nickname again and you roll your eyes. “Come talk to me, man,” he says as he shoots a glance, more like a glare, in your direction. They both look at you when the door shuts and you know that the conversation is about you.

Inside, Nick asks Benny if he wants to run this chick off.

“Nah, man. She’s just defensive. She’ll lighten up,” Benny assures him.

“We can’t have that shit if we want to solve this case,” Nick points out but Benny shakes his head.

“She does great work but she’s heard some shit about us. She thinks we’re gonna be awful to her so she’s keeping us at arms length,” Benny explains. He does like you, at least likes how you don’t take their shit, and your work is rock solid. But LASD and the FBI don’t have the best working relationship and you’ve probably heard bad things about his precinct. Nick likes to party hard and he doesn’t like to do it alone.

“Well, let me know if it gets out of control. I’ll handle it,” he assures him and Benny has no doubts that he would indeed, handle it.

********

MONTH 2

Detective Magalon, as you’ve decided to call him out loud, (dickhead, as you’ve decided to call him in your mind) never asks if you want food when he calls out for lunch. Or dinner. Or a midnight snack. He doesn’t ask you if you want some of his leftovers, doesn’t care if you’ve eaten that day. You barely speak, as a matter of fact, unless it is directly relating to the case. Shelley, your assistant, sends over the files a couple weeks later and they arrive just as you’re planning to be done for the day. Detective Magalon already has several boxes of files you’ve been sorting through so you haven’t needed them yet. It’s a day that you’ve been there for almost 12 hours and only had a protein bar from the snack machine. Benny had a burger and fries for lunch, Chinese for dinner. You can still smell the leftovers of General Tso’s and house fried rice wafting from the containers on his desk.

An agent wheels the boxes in and you peek a glance at Detective Magalon to gauge his reaction. There’s nothing except a tightening of his eyes and a small drop in his shoulders. You can almost predict he’s thinking ‘another long night’ because it matches the echoing thought in your head. You give your thanks to the man, whose name you don’t know, and then stand to grab the box on top. Your stomach gives a nasty rumble, loud enough that Detective Magalon looks at you and furrows his brows. He looks like he’s thinking, then opens his mouth to speak before closing it again. The next time he opens his mouth, he does speak.

“Hungry?” He asks but of course you say no. “I’ve got extra,” he offers waving a hand toward the Chinese.

“No,” you say, giving him a tight smile. The last thing you need is for him to think you’re a helpless creature that can’t feed herself. “I had lunch while you were out.” Not true. You shoveled a protein bar in your mouth in between witness phone calls. He nods like he doesn’t believe you and when you get up 20 minutes later to use the restroom you hear him shuffling but don’t look back. When you get back to your desk, the food is sitting on your desk with a note attached.

‘Tasted like shit anyways’ it says in a slanting scroll that’s neither sloppy or neat and you have to smile in spite of yourself. You wait for Detective Magalon to come back so you can refuse the food but when 15 minutes pass and he hasn’t appeared, you can’t help yourself. You open the containers and absolutely wolf down the food, and you know what really pisses you off?

It doesn’t taste like shit.

Not even 5 minutes after you’ve finished, he’s sitting back down in his chair. He doesn’t acknowledge what he did anymore than you do, and the two of you let a sleeping dog lie.

But you get to the office before him the next day, (and let’s be honest, every other day too) and leave a note on his desk, written in your neat, cramped style were the words ‘thank you’.

**********

MONTH 3

Things have warmed considerably between the two of you after that first two months, especially after that first time he shared food with you. The two of you can ask questions without getting their head bit off. Things aren’t exact cordial, but they aren’t ice cold anymore either.

You’re pretty sure he’s keeping track of days you eat and days you don’t because even though he never asks you what you want, on days you don’t eat, there always ends up being extra of whatever Detectice Magalon ordered. He doesn’t directly offer it to you though, he waits until you’re up from your desk and puts the food down, often disappearing for 20-30 minutes afterwards. You assume he wants you to be allowed to eat in silence without saying thank you (at least aloud) and you’re thankful for it.

The only time he mentions the food is when he gets burgers one time. It’s been a helluva day, so many tip calls coming in as well as reports from surrounding police precincts and being grilled by the district attorney about individual testimonies in a related case. Neither of you have eaten that day and when Detective Magalon dips out around 8:30, you pray he comes back with food for you.

He does, a greasy-looking bag that smells fucking divine. You get up immediately, hoping he’ll put the food on your desk while you’re ‘in the restroom’ and by the grace of the heavens he does. He’s sitting at his own desk when you get back, burger in one hand and a pen in the other. A matching burger and fries sit on your desk and you dig into it eagerly, not even ashamed to be eating basically with him.

Except, you take the first bite and spit it back out. Fucking mustard. The absolute worst condiment. One that shouldn’t even exist if you were being honest. Detective Magalon looks up at you, his eyes amused and a smile twitching at his lips.

“Everything okay?”

You give him a tight smile and nod, pulling the bun off the burger and reaching into your drawers for a napkin. Of course, there aren’t any.

But a stack of napkins lands on your desk, along with a ketchup packet. You grab one and begin to wipe off the offending substance from your sandwich and dropping the napkins in the trash. Grabbing the packet of ketchup, you dump the entire thing onto the burger before you put it all together and glance up.

Detective Magalon is smirking slightly at you from underneath his mustache and you resist the childish urge to stick your tongue out at him.

“I don’t like mustard,” you say, feeling like you have to fill the void. One corner of his mouth ticks up as he responds.

“Noted.”

Your burgers never have mustard on them again.

**********

MONTH 4

Month four brings with it witness calls. It’s time to start tracking down the people who have seen, heard, or experienced weird shit. Your main perp, code name Reaper, legal name Jimmie Smith, keeps cropping up all over LA either right before or right after a crime scene. He’s got lackey’s that do the dirty work, you and Detective Magalon are both convinced of that. But he likes to be there. Likes to watch the chaos unfold. But there’s nothing solid, nothing yet.

You and Detective Magalon are working to change that.

The bullpen is different too, the guys have been working with you for almost 4 months now. They know what they can and cannot get away with when you’re around. They know they can joke about not passing their piss tests but they cannot talk disrespectfully of their latest girlfriend/fling/one-night-stand. They know they can rib you endlessly about your ‘relationship’ with Detective Magalon, but you refuse to answer personal questions. Henderson got stoned on his weekend off? That’ll pass without comment or even an eye raise. Big Nick snorted two lines and fucked his way through 5 escorts? Nope, leave that one an inside thought. Or a group text thought.

You know they gave a group chat, of course they do. They’ve been working together 7 years and partying together every minute of that.

And it doesn’t bother you.

Really.

A call comes through to Detective Magalon’s cell and he’s on his feet within 30 seconds, grabbing his jacket and coffee. You glance up, hoping it’s something to do with the investigation and he nods at you, acknowledging your interest.

“New crime scene. You comin’?” He asks, and you nod, standing and grabbing your own coffee. Today’s outfit isn’t exactly crime-scene-friendly. A pencil skirt with the accompanying jacket and soft-red silk blouse you got from the nearest goodwill. It’s cheaper than buying it new and rich folk don’t give a shit about making money back on their clothes. At least you’re used to wearing pumps, the red of today’s pair matches the red of your blouse.

You dig in your drawer to grab a notepad and for some reason, have no luck. You’re sure that you had one in there yesterday so where did it go? It doesn’t matter because a pad of paper slaps down on your desk and Detective Magalon is standing beside you.

“C’mon. Body is still warm.”

“I’m coming. We’re taking my car,” you tell him, grabbing the keys to your fed-issued SUV. You don’t see his eye roll or the money exchange hands behind you.

What they don’t see though, is you handing the keys over once you hit the parking garage because you still don’t know LA that well. And driving in LA traffic makes you rage, so it’s easier to let Detective Magalon drive.

**********

MONTH 5

More witness statements. More time spent in a car with Detective Magalon. It’s rare you don’t ride together now, and most of the time he drives. He’s more familiar with the streets and traffic, having lived in LA all his life. You know because it was in the file that was given to you when you started working at Major Crimes. You make him take your car, it’s bigger and nicer and the fed pays for gas. You definitely refuse to notice the way he looks, one hand on the wheel and the other up against the window. The way his jawline looks so sharp when the sun—-

Nope. No. Not going there.

Before, when there was full hatred instead of bare minimum cordiality, you never rode together. Even if you ended up talking to the same witness, inspecting the same crime scene, and one time y’all even drove separately to the fed headquarters for the same debrief. But after that time he invited you to a crime scene, you don’t go to mutual places separately. It works fine for the both of you, he doesn’t talk, you don’t ask questions.

One time, only one time, does he ask you a question.

“How long you been in LA?”

“A bit,” you answer, being purposely vague. It’s been about 6 months since you’ve been in LA and the last five have been with LASD Major Crimes. Honestly, you’ve seen more of the city driving around with Detective Magalon than you have off work. You’ve tried more food places from his leftovers than you have for your own meals. He hmm’s, not deterred by your lack of response and you have a feeling that he would’ve given a similar response if you’d asked him that question.

Things aren’t frosty, but they aren’t friendly either.

************

MONTH 6

Month 6 is more of the same, except now when Detective Magalon orders food, he asks you what you want instead of guessing.

And sometimes you order food too, asking politely what he wants to eat. You eat at the same time, passing files back and forth or sharing new information from the case. You never eat out a restaurant, of course. Only in the car in between stops with witnesses or crime scenes or after briefings with the FBI. No pleasantries are exchanged while you eat and to be completely honest, no pleasantries are exchanged ever.

You don’t say good morning or good night, a simple head nod in place of words. You don’t leave at the same time, usually Detective Magalon leaves first and you follow shortly behind. For some reason he’s always in his car when you find your own and pulls out right after you do.

The guys are more comfortable with you, constantly peppering you with personal questions that you steadfastly refuse to answer.

“Gotta boyfriend?”

“Where ya from?”

“Do you drink?”

“When’s your birthday?”

It’s never ending and you do your best to ignore them and give short responses.

“No.”

“Not here.”

“On days when you people are exceptionally annoying.”

“Not today.”

You wonder why all the other female agents were run off from here and you can’t help but think they might’ve been a little too straight-laced for this group. Which makes sense, considering they’re fed and they kind of have to be. Yeah, you’re fed too, but you’re not in fed headquarters. Things are different here and you’re on their turf so you have to have a little acknowledgement for their rules.

To be fair, you don’t really care that any of them smoke weed on their days off. Or get blasted when they aren’t on call. You don’t love the way they talk about their hookups but in the larger scheme of things, it could be worse. You call them out on their shit when the time is right and let things slide when the time isn’t. In fairness, you have a feeling that if these guys find a crack in the facade or think something might bother you, they’ll latch in. They’ll put their hooks in and dig down into that opening until you lose your mind.

Which is why you don’t show them any cracks.

[bobafetts-princess]

Good Luck Charms

Months 7-12

Summary: After things have become a touch less frosty between you and Detective Magalon, you find that you actually like the man quite a bit. Maybe more than you bargained for.

Pairings: Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: cursing, canon-typical sexism, mentions of substance issues (pain meds), someone gets shot.

A/N: This is slow burnnnnnnnnnnn

Months 1-6 can be found here!

MONTH 7

Month 7 is when things change.

It’s a raid. You’ve all been on one before but never together and the guys have never seen you this dressed down. They’ve only ever seen you in work clothes; pencil skirts and jackets, power suits, wrap dresses, slacks and silk blouses. You never have a hair out of place, it’s always styled with the perfect work makeup.

But today your hair is braided, you’ve got on jeans and a pink button down and brown boots, with a bulletproof vest over the top. Not an ounce of makeup. It’s a different side of you and the guys don’t know what to make of it.

“Fed? Is that you?”

“What’ve you done with the chick that comes to the office every day?”

“Well damn I didn’t know you owned a pair of jeans!”

You roll your eyes at all of them, flipping them the bird which makes them cackle. Detective Magalon doesn’t say anything, but it doesn’t bother you.

Really. It doesn’t.

But the raid goes sideways, only a little. One of the ATF guys doesn’t clear a room completely and you get shot.

Well, not really shot. More like grazed. It rips a hole in arm of your shirt and slices you deep enough that you think you’ll need stitches, but you’re alive and that’s the important part. You’re just lucky it was your non-dominant arm so you can still pull the trigger.

Detective Magalon takes the guy down and checks on you, but you wave him off. It’s not the first time you’ve been shot and in your line of work? It won’t be the last either.

“I’m fine. Finish the raid. Suspect is in the center,” you yell over the sound of gunfire. Big Nick finds him and tackles him down, wrestling with the gun and managing to get it away from him. You’re next in, jumping on the suspects back and getting cuffs on him before he has a chance to get away.

You’re running on pure adrenaline and haul the suspect up, it’s the head of cocaine sect of the organization. Catching him alive was the number 1 priority of this mission and you and Detective Magalon (with the help of his team) have succeeded. You shove him out, handing him off to Mike to be booked and turn, looking to the team. They’re exchanging high fives and cheers and Detective Magalon smiles at you. Henderson comes to high five you and you raise your arm to give him one back. You’re smiling and relieved until a shot of pain goes through your arm and you have to drop it.

Benny knows you got shot. He was there when you jerked, grabbed the spot and yelled at him to keep going. He knows you got shot even though you cuffed the suspect and marched him out. He really knows you got shot though when you move to give Henderson a high five and gasp in pain. Medical doesn’t arrive quick enough (in his opinion, at least) but they end up patching you up. They’ve gotta strip you out of that pretty pink button up, leaving you in a white undershirt and jeans as they give you stitches in the back of an ambulance. Benny notices a tattoo along your collarbone that he hadn’t seen before and he wants to get a closer look.

“You good?” He asks, stepping over after being checked himself. You glance up at him and Benny is surprised to see a light dancing in your eyes, the after-effects of an adrenaline rush no doubt. The guys are behind him, checking in on you at the same time he is. He catches some words and a date, something he definitely can’t see when you wear your buttoned up power suits and those fucking pencil skirts.

“I’m good, Detective,” your eyes are flicking between them all and you turn your body, wincing slightly as the needle punctures skin and he reads what the ink says. ‘How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard’. Benny wonders if it’s about an ex but shakes the thought away before it can take root. Why would you get a tattoo about an ex anyways? Stupid thought. But then you’re speaking again, drawing Benny’s attention. “It’s not the first time I’ve been shot. At least this one didn’t require surgery.” You quip and Benny’s eyebrows raise at the insinuation. He knows the group chat is gonna blow up about this little insight into your life in a while and Benny already wants to put his phone on mute.

************

MONTH 8

With month 8 comes…..coffee? You’ve found this little hole in the wall place by your government issued apartment that serves fantastic coffee. They open at 5:30 in the morning, so when you get there at 5:45, the coffee is hot and fresh. They know you by first name at this point and know what time you come by in the morning. It’s easier than making drip coffee and it tastes better too.

Well one morning your alarm doesn’t go off. Or you shut it off. Or you sleep through it. You’re not really sure what happens. But you do know when you open your eyes and check the clock and see 7:30, you’re flying out of bed. You dress and clean up in record time and are out the door by 8:15, to your coffee shop by 8:20 and ordered before 8:25.

It’s 8:45 before you get a coffee in hand.

“I’m so sorry honey!” Shouts the owner, a stunning woman in her late 60’s. “One of my girls has the flu and one of our coffee machines broke!”

“It’s okay Mrs. Akron,” you assure her but god you are so late. You’re never late. Ever.

“Here darling,” she says, out of breath and frazzled. “Take a large black coffee, on me!” She thrusts your caramel macchiato at you as well as the large black. You start to protest but she won’t let you. “I insist! You’re running late and probably overslept, so you might need an afternoon boost. Take it,” she says, closing your hand around the cup. You nod at her, stopping to stuff a $50 in the tip jar before you make it to work. You roll in at 9:00, three hours late. The entire office whips their heads up and watches you walk in but you refuse to let it bother you.

“You good?” Detective Magalon asks and doesn’t press when you nod.

“Do you drink black coffee?” You ask before you lose the nerve. He’s bought you so much food, the least you can do is give him your extra coffee. “My coffee shop gave me an extra and….” You trail off, setting the coffee on his desk and taking a seat without an answer.

“Thanks.”

You simply nod but a couple times a week you bring him a large black coffee.

*************

MONTHS 9&10

Months nine and ten brings a trial and it’s a long trial. The examination and cross examination and evidence and witnesses take nearly 6 weeks. You and Detective Magalon spend nearly every waking hour together, working with the district attorney to make sure all goes the way it should.

You’re both emotionally, mentally, and physically drained and by the time the jury is sent off to make their own decision, you feel like you can nap for hours.

In fact, you do.

The couch in the district attorney’s office is so dammed comfortable and you’re sitting next to Detective Magalon, whose body is just radiating heat. You’d both just finished testifying, his took 3 hours and yours took 4. You’re silent next to each other, too drained from all the information you had to recall and all the talking.

The next thing you know, you wake up. Your head is resting against Detective Magalon’s shoulder and you might (you’ll deny if anyone asks) have drooled on his shoulder. You push off him and get some distance between your bodies.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry. This case has taken it out of me. How long did I sleep?”

“Three hours.” He says, clicking his phone shut and looking at you.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re kidding? I’m so sorry,” you tell him but he waves you off.

“It’s been a long trial. I don’t blame you for being tired,” he says, standing. You hear his knees crack when he does and see a wince of pain cross his face as he makes his way to the restroom.

Oh my god, he let you sleep even though he had to piss? There’s no way you’re unpacking that right now.

Benny never tells you that he fell asleep too.

When the verdict comes back a few weeks later and the suspect is found guilty as sin, you celebrate. It’s only one person, only one head of the hydra you’re dealing with, but it’s something.

The guys get a couple packs of beer and one Friday after work, you drink together.

“Fed! You have to hang with us for a little while. You just had your first successful trial with us,” Connors insists and you agree to stay.

“One beer!” You tell them and they laugh and wave you off. It’s the first time you’ve ever drank with them and you’re so damn careful not to overdo it. They shoot the shit, swapping stories and peppering you with questions you refuse to answer.

“Still no boyfriend?”

“Is it hard working around such attractive dudes all the time?”

“Ever smoked weed? Does smoking disqualify you from being a fed?”

“You seem like the type to own a cat”

“Got a hot sister?”

Benny notices the last one makes you wince and he wonders why. Then he tells himself that it’s none of his business. But then he thinks of your tattoo and he can’t help but try to put the pieces together.

“Even if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I wouldn’t know, all y’all are ugly.”

“No it doesn’t disqualify you.”

“That’s a weird statement.”

You swallow hard before you answer the last one.

“Doesn’t matter if I do, none of you are meeting her.”

Benny can see you’re uncomfortable and he doesn’t want the guys to latch on. So he takes the reins of the conversation, asking Big Nick about his latest divorce. Of course he launches into a huge speech about how it’s not his fault that he likes pussy so much and blah blah blah.

Benny shoots you a glance and notices you looking at him. You give him a small nod and raise your bottle in thanks.

At least, Benny thinks it’s in thanks.

********

MONTH 11

Month 11 earns you a nickname.

It’s another raid. Another head of the hydra that you’re looking for. You wear basically the same outfit, only this time the button down is army green instead of soft pink.

“You ready?” Magalon asks you, standing next to you and you wonder if he’s thinking of the last raid where you got shot. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black shirt with a grey LASD beanie over his hair. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and you see the strong salt-and-pepper there. It makes you twitch, low in your belly and wonder if he has-Jesus. A raid. You’re wearing a goddamned bulletproof vest and are getting ready to charge into a building where you might potentially get shot. Tamp that shit down.

“Yeah. I don’t think anyone is ever fully ready but I’m as ready as I can be,” you tell him, twisting your neck to look up at him.

“Try not to get shot this time,” he chuckles, looking at you. You nod, smiling as well and promising to do your best.

You get shot.

You actually get fucking shot.

It happens in a flash, one second the LAPD is declaring the room and by extension the building clear. The next second, you’re on the ground absolutely gasping for air.

“What the fuck?” Connors yells, pointing his gun that direction as Magalon covers your body with his own.

“You’re like a fucking magnet for bullets,” Magalon grumbles at you, grabbing you by the shoulder straps and moving to haul you out.

“Stop,” you gasp. “I’m fine, got the wind knocked out of me,” you tell him, pushing him off. The last thing you need is him getting shot in the back because he’s worried about you. “Get the suspect,” you tell him, pushing him off and finding cover behind a couple barrels off to your left. There’s a few more shots and a small shout of pain, hopefully from someone that isn’t on your side, before everything stops.

The barrels are moved out of the way and your gun flies up before you see who it is. Magalon. You never thought you’d be so happy to see him. “He’s cuffed. Connors shot him in the shoulder too but he’ll be fine. Unfortunately. Come on, you need a hospital,”

“No. No hospital. I’m fine,” you insist.

“Bullshit. Can you walk or do I need to carry you?”

“I’m fine. Seriously.”

“I guess I’m carrying you,” he says, handing his gun to Big Nick and moving to take off his own bulletproof vest.

“Damnit, I can walk,” you say, moving to stand.

“Good. Walk yourself to the ambulance so we can go to the hospital,” his jaw is set and you know that you’re going to end up at the hospital whether you like it or not.

“Fucking stubborn ass,” you snipe at him as you pass your own gun off to Connors.

“I’m going to get you a four leaf clover for luck, maybe then you’ll stop getting shot,” he shoots back and you can hear the frustration laced in his tone. As well as something else? Fear? Surely not.

“Ha!” Big Nick laughs and everyone turns to look at him. “That’s the perfect nickname for our fed. Clover,” and you groan because you know it’s going to stick. There’s no way it’s not going to stick. You don’t even get a chance to think about them calling you ‘our’ fed until you’re in the waiting room of the hospital.

—————————

“It’s two broken ribs and a nasty bruise,” says the ER doctor, sticking your x-rays up. “Desk duty for the next two months,” she tells you and you groan. Magalon hasn’t left your side yet, the others have, reports to write and debriefs to be held. “I’m going to give you some pain meds, I think the adrenaline hasn’t worn off yet and that’s the reason you aren’t feeling much pain.” You have been feeling pain but downplaying it in the hopes of fooling the doctor. Unfortunately for you, x-rays can’t fool a doctor. “I’m also going to insist that you take the next four days off, bed rest.”

She stares you down and you have no choice but to nod and agree. She turns to Magalon and says “as her partner, I fully expect you to keep her from over-exerting. And absolutely no sex until those ribs are healed,” she wags her finger at the two of you and you both splutter at the same time.

“We’re no-“

“It’s not like-“

The poor woman is confused and you can see why because Magalon introduced himself as your partner when they brought you back to the waiting room.

“I’m FBI,” you explain.

“I’m LA County Sheriffs Department. We’re partners on a case,” Magalon finishes the explanation.

“Ah, well. Regardless,” she points her fingers at you, “you’re on bed rest for four days.” She turns to Magalon, “I don’t know if you can make that happen but I expect you should try.” He nods and she moves to leave the room. “And I know you’re not being truthful about how much pain you’re in,” she points at you again and your face heats. Her finger swings to Magalon, “make sure she takes a pain medication. Take it with food. It’ll probably put you to sleep,” she warns before she heads out.

She must decide that either you aren’t going to take one or Magalon isn’t going to be able to convince you to take one because a nurse makes you take one before you’re allowed to leave.

“She’ll need another one in four hours,” she warns before she takes off. And of course, it takes almost 45 minutes to get out. Between filling the script and getting discharged, by the time you make it to the parking lot you’re a zombie. It’s been a long day and you’re sore, exhausted, and grouchy.

“I had the guys bring your car,” he tells you and you nod. “What’s your address? I need it to get you home,” he says. His voice is soft, like one you would use around a skittish dog as he helps you into the passenger seat but your tongue is thick and heavy and you can’t form words.

By the time Benny makes it back to the drivers seat, you’re asleep. Passed out against the center console and Benny can’t help but smile. You look so soft and peaceful and not at all like a woman who just got shot.

Benny decides to take you to his place since he doesn’t know how to get to yours. He bridal carries you up the stairs to his apartment and manages to get you inside without waking you. Benny settles you down in his bed, unsure of whether to leave your clothes the way they are or try to change you into something comfortable and decides to go with the latter.

He removes your shirt, hoping you’ve got a tank underneath it like last time and is relieved to find one. He slips one of his t shirts over your head, pulling it down across your body before reaching under to pull down the tank. He refuses to look at the tattoo, knowing it’ll kick his brain into overdrive if he does. When he removes the undershirt, Benny must brush against your bruise because you groan in pain but he manages to get it off without waking you. Remembering an old trick from a previous lifetime, he unsnaps your bra and pulls it out the arm holes of the shirt, tossing it with the tank. Jeans are last and he makes sure to keep the shirt pulled all the way down as he blindly unbuttons and strips you. Finally, he tucks you under the covers and grabs a pillow to take to the couch. He sets an alarm and passes the fuck out.

The thing that wakes you is the aching pain in your ribs. You groan, doing your best to sit up but god, they hurt so bad. Glancing around the room you expect to see your collection of plants and pink sheets, but are surprised by bare walls and black sheets.

“Where the fuck-“ you start but then Magalon appears in the doorway. It’s that moment that you realize you’ve been changed into clothes that aren’t yours and you narrow your eyes at him.

“I didn’t see anything. I closed my eyes,” he tells you, crossing the room. “I had to take you to my place because you fell asleep before you could give me your address,” he explains. He’s got a protein bar in one hand and a cup in the other and he hands the cup to you first. “It’s time for your next pain med,” he drops the little pill in your hand, “I know your ribs hurt,” he gives you a pointed look. Grimacing you take the pill and chase it with the water.

“Thank you,” you say when he hands you the protein bar. Scarfing it down, you glance up at him as he nods. “I’m sorry I fell asleep. God, you probably had to carry me inside, didn’t you?” Magalon chuckles and nods.

“I need to tell you that I’m not leaving your side until you can go back to work,” and you open your mouth to protest. “Nope. No arguments. I’m more than happy to take you back to your own place if that would make you more comfortable, but you are stuck with me,” he says and you can tell he isn’t going to argue with you about it and you don’t have the energy to try either.

“Fine. How did you get me changed without ‘seeing anything’?” You smile as he explains, careful not to laugh because you know that it’s going to hurt. “I need to shower. Do you think I’ve got enough time before this kicks in?”

“Not sure, but I think it might be safer to wait until you’ve rested a little more,” you can’t help but agree because as he leaves the bedroom again you feel the deep weight of exhaustion overtake you again and before you know it, you’re out.

—————————

The next time you wake, Benny is already there and waiting for you.

“No, I want to try to shower first,” shaking your head at him and trying to sit up. Goddamn, your ribs hurt. He gives you a hand and leads you to the bathroom.

“I’m sure I don’t have the right…anything. But feel free to use anything in my shower,” he says. “But leave the door unlocked just in case you need me. Do you want me to try to make you something to eat?” Your stomach gives an aggressive grumble at that exact moment and he laughs. “Fried egg sandwich? Coffee?” Nodding at both he takes off to his kitchen. Heading into the bathroom, you flip on the lights and take a look at yourself in the mirror. You look like absolute shit. Red eyes, dark circles, your hair is a mess and a half. You haven’t washed your face recently and you know that the shower is going to dry your skin out. Of course Magalon doesn’t have any body lotion either.

Stripping off the tshirt, one of Magalon’s no doubt, you inspect the large bruise on your right side. It takes up almost your entire ribcage, stretching from under your breasts to almost touching your hipbone and it’s a nasty deep purple. It’ll only worsen over the next couple days too, turning brown to green to yellow. When you turn on the shower, you realize you don’t have a clean towel.

“Magalon?” You call out and hear his answering response. “I don’t have a towel, can you bring me one?” There’s silence, then he calls back that he’ll do it in just a second. Locating a brush, you step into the shower and groan at the hot water on your skin. Magalon has a nice shower, a cool grey tile with glass doors. And he has several body washes to choose from. And an actual shampoo and conditioner, not a 4-in-1 combo. You wash your hair with one hand because it hurts to raise the other and skip washing your feet cause you can’t bend over to reach them, but damn do you feel better.

The towel and a pair of sweats is right outside the bathroom door when you get out. You try to rip a brush through your hair, but the exertion makes your ribs hurt too much. So instead, you dress and head to the kitchen. Magalon is in there, plating a sandwich and setting it next to a cup of coffee. Your damn ribs are absolutely aching but right now? You’re more hungry than you are anything else.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know. But you’re my partner and I’ve got your back.” Swoon. No-wait. No swoon. Swooning is bad.

“Can I ask you for a small favor?” He nods and you hold out the brush. “It hurts too much to try and brush it.” He takes the brush and looks at it a little funny before he moves to stand behind you. He’s so gentle with it, afraid to put any tension on your head and hurt you. He gets through it as you sip on the coffee, (black, gross) and it doesn’t take him much time and you feel so much better when he’s done.

“Do you want to take your pill now or after you eat?” You opt for now and he hands it to you with a cup of water. “Still tired? Did showering hurt? Do you need to nap?”

“A little but not like I was. No, I feel a lot better being clean. I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Do you want to head back to yours or stay here for now?”

“I’d like to go back to my place, but maybe food first,” Magalon nods and you suppose you should be calling him Benny now. “Clover is gonna stick, isn’t it?” He looses a chuckle and grabs his phone, pulling up a text thread.

Big Nick: How’s Clover?

Benny: Fine. She’s resting. Pain pills took her out.

A couple hours later.

Z: Clover still out?

Benny: Ya. Long day for her. She’s at mine.

Big Nick: Damn Borracho, how did you get that to happen?

Z: OooOOooooHHhhhhh

Connors: Apparently only drugged women go home with you.

Henderson: Y’all are obnoxious

Benny: Fell asleep before I could get her address.

A couple hours later.

Connors: Clover good? Still out?

Benny: Ya. And ya.

Henderson: You know Borracho, my favorite thing about you is how conversational you are.

You snort a laugh and immediately regret it, grabbing at your ribs.

“Are they always like that?”

“As long as I’ve known them. They’ve taken to you though, more than any other person we’ve worked with. Man or woman.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“They’re used to other departments being straight-laced and talking shit about us. You haven’t done that. You call the guys out when they need it and let shit slide that doesn’t. They respect that,” he says, shrugging.

“Is that what happened with the other female agents that worked with you guys?” And he nods.

“By now you know how they are and if they think they’ve found something that’ll bother you, they dig in. And they don’t know when to quit.”

Nodding you ask, “is that how you got the nickname Borracho?” It’s a far cry from how you made fun of his nickname all those months ago. He sighs heavily and you know it’s a story that irritates him a little.

“One time, back when it was Big Nick, Henderson and me, we had a work event. It was fancy and an open bar, so I naturally got shit-faced. Nick and his first wife had to help me out and make sure I didn’t vomit all over myself. Nick started calling me Borracho and I never got rid of it, especially once they realized I hate it.” Your sandwich is gone by now and you move to go put the plate in the sink but Benny stops you. He takes the plate and puts it in the dishwasher before coming to sit next to you again.

“That’s a horrible way to get a nickname,” you smile at him and he smiles back.

“Tell me about it.” A pause. “Getting shot is a much cooler way to get a nickname,” and you shoot him a small glare. “Do you want to try and nap again or are you alright?” Between the shower and the conversation, you’re exhausted again so you opt for another nap. “While you sleep I’m gonna run to the office and grab some files so I can get some work done while I’m out,” he tells you and you nod, drifting back down the hallway to his room. Pulling back the sheets and sliding in, you don’t even hear the front door shut before you’re asleep again.

—————————

You’ve forgotten how much you hate being on bed rest. It’s been years since you last were but good god it is awful. At least there’s company. Once Benny got back from the office with a box in the SUV and some get-wells from the boys, you’d finally felt rested. You got Benny to take you back to your own apartment and he chuckles when he walks in.

“This is the girliest place I’ve ever been in.”

“Leave my decoration choices alone,” but he’s not wrong. Everything is soft and feminine, a grey couch with pink and grey pillows. A baby pink sheets and comforter set and plants everywhere. “Thanks. Seriously. I appreciate you staying with me to make sure I’m okay.”

“No coffee machine?” He asks in lieu of a response.

“I only get coffee from that one place,” you remind him. “It’s easier and it tastes better than drip coffee from a pot.” He laughs and says whatever before he sets the files on your counter.

“Two more days, then you can go back to work,” he reminds you and you stick your tongue out at him when his back is turned. Your ribs still ache but you can at least take a pain pill and not pass out within 20 minutes, so that’s an improvement. “Do you want to sift through these files with me?” He asks and you groan. You don’t, you’re too foggy. “Okay okay, we don’t have to,” he chuckles and turns to you. “What do you feel like doing?”

Truth be told, you want to watch a show. Your favorite romantic show just released a new season last week and you want to get caught up. But it’s steamy and not a show to be watched with a coworker so you say, “is there a game on?” Benny quirks a brow at you and you sigh. You like sports but you just aren’t in the mood for them.

“What do you actually want to watch?” When you give him the name of the show he belly laughs and says “let’s watch it. Cmon. I want to see what it’s like.”

Two hours and several spicy scenes later, Benny is deeply invested in this show. He keeps asking questions and insisting things don’t make sense, but that’s only because he hasn’t seen the first couple seasons. If it didn’t hurt so much to laugh, you would be in absolute tears by now because who knew that Detective Magalon from the LASD would be into regency romances?

“Who is that man?”

“They’re in the garden alone. Don’t they have to get married now?”

“He touched her tit, they definitely have to get married now.

“Who is this entire family?”

Finally you get tired of answering his questions and suggest that you start the whole series over, so he can be caught up. He gives you a side eye, but you ignore it, starting from Season 1 Episode 1 and let it play. The two of you get through the first four episodes before it’s time for another pain med, you’re trying to stretch out the time you need them so you can wean. After you take it you curl into the couch, Benny at one end and you at the other. It doesn’t take long for this one to knock you out and eventually you’re stretched out, your head in Benny’s lap as he finishes the season by himself.

He picks you up as gently as he can, walking you down the hall to settle you into your own bed. He takes the time to examine the pictures hung up in the hallway when he heads back to the couch. He notices a girl in your pictures, one so similar in a way that’s more than just a sibling. You both look about the same age and share the exact same smile, often the both of you holding matching Winnie the Pooh plushies. The pictures of the two of you stop when you reach late teens, Benny guesses somewhere between 17-19. It’s just you now, you and your parents, you and another sibling, a brother. Benny starts taking the pieces and putting them together. A memorial tattoo, a refusal to talk about your family. A decided sensitive spot about your sister, or lack of? Benny doesn’t want to make assumptions, he knows what they say about assuming. But he’s a cop, a long time cop, and he knows how to make an educated guess.

You wake in your own bed, surrounded by your fluffy pink comforter and a deep ache in your ribs. It’s not time for more pain meds, so you decide to ice them down instead. Sneaking past a sleeping Benny and you take the time to study his profile. Strong nose and jaw, salt and pepper in his beard, eyes that have a capability to be soft. He really is an attractive man, if you were being honest with yourself, which you try not to be. He looks so peaceful when he’s sleeping, so much different without the deep furrow between his eyebrows. You try to be as quiet as possible as you make a bag of ice, but it doesn’t take him long to follow you into the kitchen.

“In pain?” He asks, leaning up against the counter. His beefy arms cross his chest and you have to avert your eyes quickly.

“Yeah. The sharp pains are gone but the aching pains won’t budge.” He nods before glancing at the clock.

“It’s early,” you glance at the clock yourself and notice it’s only 6 am. Old habits die hard. “Want to get out of the apartment for a while? We can go grab breakfast?” He offers. “Does that coffee shop you like serve a full breakfast?”

“Actually it does. I’ve never eaten breakfast there before though.”

“Are you willing to try it?”

“Anything to get out for a bit. Just let me finish icing my ribs first. It should take about 30 minutes. Do you need to go home and shower?”

Benny shakes his head, “nah, I took one in the guest room while you were sleeping. Want to watch your show while we wait?” Obviously the answer is yes and you can’t stop watching mid-episode so it’s after 7 by the time you leave the house. Benny orders literally only a cup of coffee and you side eye him a you order blueberry pancakes, bacon, and hashbrowns with a French vanilla cappuccino.

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” He shakes his head at you.

“Nah, not much of a breakfast eater,” he says, taking a deep drink.

“Breakfast is the best meal of the day,” and it sends the two of you into an argument about which meal actually is the best meal. (Benny says they’re all the same, which leads you to believe he doesn’t eat much outside of work.)

This silly argument lasts nearly the entire time you wait for food and when it does arrive, you dig in. You’re so hungry that you almost don’t notice that Benny steals a piece of bacon off your plate. “Hey! Get your own food!” You cry, moving to stab him with your fork, but he manages to dodge. He laughs, a full belly laugh, and the sound is delicious. “You should’ve ordered something,” you warn, covering your food with your arms. “I don’t share food.”

He laughs again and flags down the waitress, ordering a side of bacon and some toast. You glare at him until it arrives, and the waitress chuckles as she fills his coffee. “I don’t share food with my boyfriend either,” and before you can argue that Benito Magalon is NOT your boyfriend, she’s gone.

————————-

Benny stays with you the next day and a half, until Monday and you’re allowed to return back to work. He offers to drive you but you refuse, telling him you go in much earlier than he does. “I can stay on your couch again. I’ll wake up when you wake up,” he says and you finally relent. So the next morning, at 6:30 you head into the kitchen, only to find Benny showered and holding coffee. “Hey. I grabbed coffee,” he lifts said coffee. “Want me to drive your car?”

It’s so bright in the office, much more bright than the low lights of your home, and it makes you wince.

“Clover!” Comes the cry from your office mates as they see you. You can’t help but smile and then it widens when you see what’s on your desk. A tiny pot with something green in it, which upon further inspection turns out to be…..clover.

“You guys have to be fucking kidding me,” you laugh, gently so not to upset your ribs. There’s a loud ruckus of laughter from them, as if it’s the funniest practical joke they’ve ever pulled. “You know this won’t live, right?” Examining it, you notice that it looks like they literally dug it up from the front lawn and stuck it in a pot. “It needs a lot more light than it’s gonna get sitting on my desk,” you explain before thanking them for doing something so thoughtful.

Big Nick steps out of his office to welcome you back, reaching over to slap a hand on your shoulder. You brace, waiting for the impact to jar your ribs but a sharp ‘don’t’ from Benny stops the hand before it connects. “Those ribs are still broke, Nick,” he says, barely lifting his eyes from his files to acknowledge Nick. Nick grunts, turns, tells you how good it is for you to be back, then disappears.

Lifting your eyes, you notice the same stunned expression on everyone else’s face and exchange of glances with one another. And glances with you.

That Monday is one of the longest of your career. you barely get anything done and all you want to do is go home and rest, but you can’t. It’s nearly midday when your patience snaps because Henderson looks at you funny when you grunt in pain.

“Got something to say, Henderson?” You snap and he gives you a wide, nervous glance before his eyes snap to Benny. “No. Don’t look at him, look at me. Do you have something to say?” Benny, you see him out of the corner of your eye, checks his watch and then pulls his phone out.

You’re so annoyed because you know they’re texting their little group chat. And you know they’re texting about you. Especially when four phones go off at the same time, more than once.

Borracho: it’s her first day off pain meds. Cut her some slack.

Nick: been there.

Henderson: same.

Z: does she need anything?

Borracho: food. And a coffee.

Z: what does she like?

Borracho: get her General Tso’s and house fried rice. And a caramel macchiato.

Z nods, getting up from his chair and heading out the door.

“Y’all texting about me?” You snap, eyes sharp as they bore holes in Benny’s head. He gives you this soft, pitying look that absolutely makes you rage and stand up suddenly before you double over in pain. Stupid fucking ribs. Stupid fucking perp that shot you. Stupid fucking pain meds. Wait-pain meds. Oh goddamnit. That’s why you’re so grouchy, you haven’t had any today and you’re sore and shaky.

“Are you alright?” Benny asks, standing. You wave him off, heading to the back of the bullpen where there aren’t any eyes and take a couple deep breaths. After four days of basically living together, you recognize the sound of Benny’s feet as they come up behind you. “Hurtin’?” He asks and you nod your head. “Want to head home?” You shake your head, but you really like the way he uses home like it’s somewhere the both of you are going.

“Nah, I just need a little bit of food and probably some coffee,” and you’re confused when Benny smiles.

“That’s where Z went. He’s grabbing Chinese and a caramel macchiato.” And you know that it was 100% Benny’s idea.

“Thanks Ben,” you smile at him, placing a soft hand on his forearm. There’s a moment there, in the back of the bullpen, between the two of you. You’ve been toeing that line all weekend, really for the last two months and this might be the turning point in your relationship. Benny feels safe. Benny feels like comfort. Someone you can trust. Someone you can count on.

Which is amazing to you because it’s such a far cry from where you started, nearly a year ago. Which makes you think, then makes you apologize.

“I’m sorry for how I acted when I first got here.”

“It’s fine. I think you had the right to be, these guys are a tough nut to crack,” he says, gesturing to the bullpen behind them. “They don’t take very well to others, especially fed. The ones we usually deal with are snarky and uptight. They make fun of us or judge us.” You understand, really you do. It makes sense, how defensive they are and how they treat new people. “Are you sure that you don’t want to head home? I can work from there,” he offers and it makes your chest tight. But his phone dings and it’s Z, letting him know that he’s back and that makes your chest tight again. These men care about you, your physical and mental well-being, and they want to make sure you’re okay. So, you shake your head at Benny and head back to your desk, lobbing an apology to everyone for your behavior, and sit down. Grabbing a file, you start to flip through it, but before you even have a chance to look at it, a bag and a coffee are set in front of you. You glance up and smile at Z, thanking him and apologizing to him in the same breath. He waves you off and sits down, but you can’t quite let it go.

“Z, what’s your cashapp. Or your Venmo? Let me pay for this, you didn’t have to go get it for me,” you tell him but he waves you off again.

“Nahh, Borracho already paid for it. Don’t worry about it,” and when you look at Benny, he refuses to look at you.

*************

Month 12

Month 12, you’re added into the group chat. Your phone buzzes one morning with one text from Big Nick and you notice that there’s a bunch of numbers there that you don’t recognize. Benny’s you do, but no one else. After about a week he stopped sleeping on your couch but he still gets to the office early and the two of you spend your mornings in companionable silence, sharing breakfast.

Big Nick: Anyone up for grabbing donuts this morning?

Big Nick: Also, drop your names so Clover knows who’s who.

Clover: Isn’t being a bunch of donut loving cops a little cliche?

Big Nick: Rude. No donuts for you.

You laugh a little out loud, noticing the ache in your ribs has almost completely disappeared, nearly two months after you got shot. You know Nick well enough now to know that he’s joking and he’s not being the rude, brash, asshole you initially thought that he was.

Zapata: It’s Z. Can’t this morning, gonna do a witness call.

Connors: This is Connors. I’m already at a crime scene, so I can’t. Save me some though!

Henderson: This is Henderson. I’m gonna be late as it is, I don’t have time.

Benny: Borracho can grab some from the usual place.

Clover: Don’t get any jelly filled ones, they’re the worst.

Zapata: Uh oh.

Clover: What?

Connors: NO JELLY FILLED? THAT’S UN-AMERICAN. I’M GOING BACK TO THE OTHER GROUP CHAT.

You laugh out loud again, the idea of Connors taking jelly-filled donuts so seriously honestly tracks for who he is as a person.

Clover: I’m sorry! Get all the jelly filled that you want, but get me long chocolate donut. No jelly, please.

Connors: Borracho, get a dozen jelly-filled just to spite Clover.

Clover: Awe, Connors. You’re hurting my feelings.

Big Nick: It’s too early to be reading this many messages.

Clover: You texted us first.

Benny: Chill or I won’t get donuts.

Henderson: You started the group chat.

Connors: You text first?!

Zapata: Speaking of, what should I name the chat?

Big Nick: Why does the group chat need a name?

Zapata: Our other chat is called The Regulators. We need to name this one too.

Connors: How about the FEDulators? It sounds the same!!

Clover: That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard, Connors.

Clover: How about Clover and the Four Leaf’s?

Zapata: OoOoOoOhHhHhH!!!!! I like that!!!!

Zapata changed the group name to 🍀Clover and the Four Leaf’s 🍀

Big Nick: Y’all are fuckin’ idiots.

You’re already in the office and lift your head at the sound of someone coming into the bullpen. It’s Benny, carrying two dozen donuts. He smiles at you and it makes something go slippery in your chest and Jesus you’re an adult.

“Welcome to the group chat. It’s hell here,” he laughs, holding out an open box for you to grab one. The two of you sit in silence, eating donuts and sharing files.

[bobafetts-princess]

Alright yall, it was time for a name change! We’re shaking off the shitty year I’ve had and bringing good vibes and a healing 2022 with a new name. And also gearing up for TBOBF bc ya girl is READY!

The-Siren-Writes-It —> BobaFetts-Princess

Tagging some mutuals under the cut 🥰

@ashotofspotchka @thesithformerlyknownaskenobi @milf-thrawn-nuruodo @milf-obi-wan-kenobi @keeper-of-the-sarlacc-pit @parchmentandpetticoats @mysticalgalaxysalad @zinzinina @thefact0rygirl @beskarprincessjenny @ahoeformando

[firstofficerwiggles]

Wiggles!! I’m so proud of you!! You deserve 500 and MORE! Congratulations!!

I know who I’m gonna ask for. You know who I gonna ask for. It’s no secret.

May I pretty pretty please get a love letter from the scariest bounty Hunter in the galaxy?? Mr. Boba F-cking Fett? Thanks and I appreciate you!!!

@bobafetts-princess ❤️❤️

Thank you so much!! That's very sweet of you to say! Boba is thrilled to write to his princess 🥰🥰🥰 Be on the lookout for his letter!