#marshall matters hard knocks

[smutty-books]

There he is, no make-up, no air brushing most definitely no botoxing or cosmetic surgery! Still looks gorgeous, sexy and hot as hell.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“So… what happens if Walter buys us out?” Timothy asks, a confused squiggle in his brow that hasn’t lessened for the entirety of the conversation.

“Well, we won’t be out on the street,” your mother says, “and your father will be taken care of. We can send him to The Gardens. He’ll be comfortable there… we can visit.”

You bite on your knuckle, gnawing anxiously. Timothy frowns and rubs his chin, a sparseness of new stubble there. He sniffs as he tries to unravel the riddle.

“Does that mean he’s my boss?”

“Well, more of a landlord,” your mom explains, “he’ll help with the farming and take his cut. If he does this, he’ll have to cut back at the mill. It’s a big sacrifice. For everyone.”

Timothy nods and drops his hand to twiddle against the table, “it sounds like a good idea.”

“Yeah… it’s our only idea,” your mom murmurs.

“What are the terms?” You ask suddenly, hiding the ridged marks in your finger left by your teeth. “He’s going to let us pay rent? On a whole farm?”

“If the bank gives him good news,” she rubs her palms together, “I don’t know. We need more information but we can hope.” Her voice quavers as she brings the tissue back to her nose, “I only ever want to do what’s best for you two.”

“Ma,” you reach out to touch her elbow, “we can help. We’ll pull together. All of us, with or without Walter.”

“I hope we can,” she snivels and begins to weep again.

You look at Timothy. He looks gaunt. He’s absolutely terrified. No matter how hard you try, you can’t see him doing it himself. He isn’t ready to take over for your dad. You don’t know if he ever will be.

You turn back to your mom as her shoulders shake. She looks little better than Timothy and you bet, if you glanced in a mirror, you would be much the same. This can’t all fall on her. She’s had to deal with so much so far.

“Tim, what’s wrong with the truck?” You ask suddenly, your mother and brother flinching at the same time.

“What?” He stammers.

“What’s wrong with it? Is it running?”

“Yeah, kinda, it stalls out but you just gotta give it a few.”

“Ma, how long?”

“What?” She rasps.

“How long do we have? Without Walter, just us. How long do we have to figure this out?”

She lowers her head and takes a deep breath. Her voice cracks, “six months.”

You cringe and try to show the impact as her answer threatens to knock you over. You lay your hands gently on the table and stand. You leave them and go into the living room where your father sits, staring and still. You pull up the short footstool from in front of the couch and sit by him.

You’re silent as you watch him. His eyes are glazed, his features are slack and emotionless, he doesn’t even know you’re there. He is a ghost. You put your hand on his, begging him to smile, begging him to crack a joke. Your heart swells then shrinks down so small it hurts.

“Dad,” you whisper and squeeze his hand, “I love you.”

You stand and kiss his cheek. He doesn’t react. You see your mother in the doorway. She watches with arms folded but doesn’t say a word as you cross the room. Neither do you.

You pass into the hallway and march down to the front door. You slip your feet into your shoes and snatch the keys off the hook. Your mom always said you were a daddy’s girl and your dad always told you that no matter how shitty it is, you do what needs to be done for the family. At the end of the day, it’s the only thing you can count on.

You leave without looking back. A tremor rolls through you as you open up the garage. You just need the truck to make it there, that’s it. You climb in the front seat and twist the ignition, chanting desperate pleas until it catches. The engine rumbles and you hit the gas, surging out before you can think better of this.

Your mother watches through the window as you steer away from the house. You lean over the wheel as the headlights shine over the dark country landscape. You’ve never been up that way but you know where you’re going.

Tap, tap, tap. At first you panic, thinking the engine’s sputtering out. Then the droplets turn to rivulets and the rain pours down, streaming over the windshield as you flip on the wipers. You’re at the edge of the seat, clutching the wheel tight as the belt strains across your chest.

The tires suck in the mud as the countryside turns boggish. You rock with the truck as it chuffs over the slickening earth, slowing with the incline of the next hill. Not much further. Almost there.

There’s a sudden pop and a chortle that rattles the truck. You yipe as the engine putters out and the headlights dim. You feel the world rolling backwards. You yank on the emergency brake, the old Ford lurching to a halt. You slam your hands on the thin steering wheel and lean your head against the cool leather.

Just a little further.

You raise your head, looking forward at the black road then at the rearview at the void. You’ve come this far. You take the keys and pull on the handle, letting yourself out in the whipping rains. The cold shower soaks through you in an instant as you slip through the mud, arms pumping as you take the last of the hill in a half-sprint.

You’re gulping and gasping as you come in sight of a single light. A rectangle of yellow, the only beacon amid the storm. Your teeth chatter as you will yourself onward. Your feet splash and you tumble over the bumpy ground, staggering and stumbling towards the dark house.

You fall against the stairs and heave, shaking as you fight for air. You put your feet under you and push yourself up. You stamp onto the first step, then the next, and the next. You catch the door frame and heave as you hear noise from within.

You grip the handle of the screen door but before you can pull it back, the door within opens and amber light spills into the blackness. You stare through the mesh as Walter’s broad silhouette towers over you. You gasp up at him and touch the screen.

“I’m sorry,” you eke out through a shiver.

[mwolf0epsilon]

A Disgraced Trooper's Last Resort

Corrie moonshine has the kind of punch that can knock your teeth out. It's bootlegged with whatever they can find that won't outright kill them if it settles in their stomach, but definitely strong enough that it would sooner be considered outright gutrot than an actual FDA approved drink.

Not something your run of the mill liquor license or health insurance would cover.

Not that Fox really concerns himself with either of those things as he takes a swig from his lucky flask. To him a drink is a drink, especially when he feels like he needs it most. And he did need that extra push of liquid courage tonight more than he ever had before.

To put it simply, he was between a rock and a hard place. Relations between the GAR and the Guard were at an all time low. And, despite his Corries saying otherwise, it was all his fault.

He'd stumbled and made some terribly misguided mistakes. Grasped at tantalising straws that he'd hoped would be his and his men's salvation, only to fail time and time again. Burying himself and his troopers deeper and deeper in a grave that had been prepared for them since arrival. Eagerly applauded by the man who'd made them all his fools and jesters.

He'd botched Commander Tano's capture and then shot a brother dead. And not just any brother either. He'd shot one of Rex's boys. The only surviving one that he'd claimed from the defunct Rishi Moon outpost.

The heat was on high and everyone he loved and cared for was suffering terribly for it.

From his commanders to the shiniest of shinies. All because he couldn't win against Palpatine. He was in too deep and had no allies that could get him and his men back out of this deep dark pit. At least not any allies that had any real power.

Fox was playing a game that he simply couldn't win. But maybe he didn't have to...

Taking another swig of the flask, Fox contemplated the only logical conclusion he'd reached in the last couple of months, as he'd noticed just how much things had deteriorated. Contemplated this rather outlandish plan of his that was very much a last desperate call to set things right.

It all came back to flimsywork and the world of bureaucracy. Things he hated but was much too intimately familiar with. He'd submitted the performance report a month ago before settling for another round of the waiting game. Detailed what needed to be scrutinised, and omitted what most definitely didn't. His idea was a little out there but not unheard of, especially with the observations he'd dutifully jotted down to back up his decision.

And then there was the matter of tempting the Chancellor with something he couldn't quite resist, which he thought he'd done so beautifully. If he was good at anything besides suffering through logistics and political nonsense, it was nicely baiting a trap of his own.

As soon as Fox made his next move, a few things would change. Hopefully for the better. Not that his men would understand. At least not at first... But it had to be done. He'd made the assessments and he had certainly done his homework. As soon as the report was called in for review to pick his successor, they would very easily concede to his wishes.

Due to the current losses and supposed number of decomms, there were simply not enough skilled guardsmen for it to justify promoting their most veteran commanding officers. Thorn would be barred the position of marshal commander due to both his position as head of the prison force, and his constant requisitioning for escort missions. So would Stone, who was far too proficient in his senatorial guard duties to be pulled aside as a glorified secretary to the Chancellor. And Thire would need to take time off to train a replacement officer to guide the patrolsmen due to having the best knowledge of Coruscant's layout, making him the most effective patrol co-ordinator they had ever had.

And time was not something anyone could spare on Triple Zero.

And, with no one else nearly as experienced or simply far too important in their current positions, that left only one option should the position of marshal commander ever open up: Requisition a trooper just as skilled as Fox himself from another battalion.

Which is exactly what he'd done when he'd submitted the report. Should he be incapacitated or destroyed, command of the Guard would fall to the only person he trusted to be capable of leading them. Or, in Fox's true motivation, that had the actual power to put an end to Palpatine's sick little games.

And the best part? No one would call into question his choice on the matter. He'd waited more than enough after he'd submitted the report for it to register as valid on record, even after he did what he was about to do.

Which is why, as Fox finished emptying his flask as he stood on the very roof of the Senate building, he couldn't help but smile. Smile and wish Cody the best of luck. The bastard was going to need it, especially when Fox knew Palpatine would rejoice at taking something, anything, from General Kenobi who he seemed to so greatly despise.

The neon lights and smell of chemicals and pollution greeted the disgraced marshal commander as he stood at the very edge of the roof. Ready to make a spectacle of this. Ready to set his own twisted little game into motion. Palpatine had won the first few rounds, but he would not be able to best Cody. Not with the reputation he had, nor the esteem he'd earned. Which was exactly what Fox was counting on.

And, as he flung himself forward towards his inglorious demise, he hoped against all hope that Cody's fondness for his general was a mutual thing and not once-sided. If just so his little brothers in the Guard could finally have a chance.

He was, quite literally, taking a leap of faith.

[dw19791967]

That Type of Girl Part 3

Pairing: Dean x reader (Eventual), Sam x reader (Platonic)

Warnings: language, unrequited love, angst, mentions of torture, mentions of self-hate.

This is the third fic I have ever written, all mistakes are my own. Please be gentle on me!

______________________________

What does one wear to church? I wouldn’t know since I never really went as a kid and as an adult well, once you know who God really is, it can be hard to get past that. 

I decided on a long oversized maroon sweater, black leggings, and boots. I never really was a heels girl. Sure, I could handle a wedge or boots with a chunky heel, but I definitely wasn’t the type to wear six inch heels. I decided to leave my hair in its natural state, but I did twist my bangs together and pinned them back. I can’t braid, no matter how many times I have tried to learn. So twisting two pieces together is my go to, especially to get hair out of my face. I applied my regular makeup routine. I do it for me, not to impress people. I may be overweight and unappealing in other aspects but my makeup is something I am proud of. Years of practice have helped make it easy, and quick.

I walked out of the bathroom ready to go. “Alright boys, let’s do this.”

__________________

When we arrived at the church not a ton people were there. There was a small group gathered. A few women, they seemed to be in their late 20’s and a couple of men who seemed to be around the same age.

“Ok Y/N you ready? Remember, Dean and I will be here if you need us. We are going to try to scope the place out a bit” Sam looked at me. I am glad he was confident in my people skills, cause right now I am not. I do fine talking with people I know and even strangers. But the pressure of trying to force a conversation can be a struggle sometimes. And since Dean didn’t seem too confident in my skills earlier, I have been dreading this. How is it that the man who is supposedly my best friend, doesn’t believe I am capable of doing something I have done a hundred times before. 

“I guess.” I started heading towards the group of people.

__________________

We just arrived back at the motel. Sam sat down next to me “Well we found nothing, we checked all over the place. Nothing suspicious, no sulfur or EMF.” 

“Yeah and all the single chicks were a bust too.” Dean smiled.

Of course he would be worried about chasing tail.

I sighed. “Ok, I talked to a group of people at the church. They mentioned a guy Sarah worked with, his name was Ryan not sure on last name (Sarah was the most recent victim). They also mentioned Sarah had a crush on a dude at the church, Marshall. And last one, she had talked to Rick quite a bit at the church. One of the ladies said Rick has just been in town the last 2 weeks. Something seems off with Rick, but I’m not really sure what.” I looked over the case files again. I always like to make sure I am not missing anything.

“Well since we are at a stand still, I say it’s time to hit the bar. We need a break from researching and thinking.” Dean stood up.

“Maybe you're right, we can take a break and come back to it later.” Sam looked at me. “What do you say Y/N?”

“I think I’m going to stay here, try to figure out what is happening. Something is wrong in this whole equation.” I kept reading the files. I am also not in the mood to see Dean flirt tonight. But I will keep that thought to myself.

“Well party pooper, call if you need us.” Dean patted my shoulder. 

Maybe a break from the boys will do me some good.

I had just changed into a t-shirt and took my makeup off when there was a knock at the door. I figured one of the boys was back and forgot their key.

“I swear you guys can’t survive without me.” I headed for the door.

I cracked the door open. Rick. What the hell is he doing here?

“Hi Y/N, I hope you don’t mind me stopping by. I just wanted to check on you and see if you maybe needed anything.” He rubbed the back of his neck. A nervous tick maybe.

“Um, I appreciate that. How did you know I was here?” This is weird for sure.

“Oh my aunt owns this motel, so I checked with her and she said you were here. She also mentioned you had two guys with you. Are you going to let me in?” He smiled at me.

“Uh, I guess.” I grabbed my knife and stuck it in the back of my leggings. A girl can never be too safe.

“So who are the guys here with you, brothers?” Rick made his way into the room.

“No, just friends. They came to be supportive. Can I get you a beer or water?” I had told the group of people at the church I was a cousin of Sarah’s, since she had no family in town it was an easy lie.

“I’ll have a beer, thanks.” I handed him the drink. “So where are your friends?”

“Out, they should be back shortly.” I was getting nervous. Something was not right here. 

“Oh I doubt that Y/N. You know Dean always enjoys working on his night moves.” Rick's eyes flashed black. Next thing I know everything went black.

Oh I am so screwed.

_______________

“Wakey, wakey sunshine. God, I can’t believe how stupid you are for a hunter. Who the hell lets someone they barely know into their hotel room?" Rick poked at me.

We were in an abandoned warehouse. I was cuffed to a chair. This wasn’t exactly how I planned on my night going.

“Well, what can I say? I’m prone to making stupid decisions. So why don’t we just cut the foreplay. What do you want? ” I smiled.

Whack. Damn. I almost had forgotten what it was like to get the shit knocked out of me.

“You know, all of the women I took. There was nothing exciting about them. I mean they wonder why they are single. Maybe it’s because they are so damn boring. But you, I mean besides being overweight and homely, there's a certain spark to you. And once I found out you were a hunter, well you had to be my next victim.” He smoothed my hair out.

“So are you doing this for shits and giggles or is there a bigger agenda you are playing into?” He made his way over to a table and brought back a knife. Great.

“Oh sweet Y/N, of course I am doing this for me. You see, I have played by all the rules and followed the main man's plan. But it’s time for me to shine and this is just the beginning. So whatcha say, are you ready to have some fun?” Rick started to slice into my arm.

Lucky for me, I have a high pain tolerance.

“You see, you were an easy target. Your self esteem is so low. Plus can’t forget your little crush on the elder Winchester. What makes you think he would ever look at you twice?” Rick now started slicing my thighs. “I mean you have a pretty face for sure, but you know Dean prefers his women slim. You will never be that type of girl ya know?”

“Screw you. You don’t know the first thing about me. I mean you do realize anything you say to me, I have either heard or said it to myself a thousand times before? Way to be creative.” I laughed. I have always been stubborn. I’m sure as hell not going to stop now.

“You know, you are really starting to get on my nerves. How about I find a way to shut that pretty mouth up. I doubt the Winchesters would even miss your annoying ass.” Rick punched me in the face.

I spit blood out of my mouth. I hope he gets this over with soon.

Tag List:

@hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Caine Coming To You After Facing John

Caine X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injury, mentions of death, angst, stitching wounds, fluff, and spoilers

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested by @the-marshals-wife​

(A/N:) It has been soooo long since I’ve gotten to write for the John Wick universe! It’s hard for me to get ideas for franchises that I adore as I don’t want to ruin them or the characters. Soooo that’s why I haven’t been writing more John Wick stuff though I really want to! So I am sooo glad that you requested something for Caine, cause it gave me the push to write something and I’m really happy with the way it turned out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Spoilers for John Wick 4 below!!! Do not click if you haven’t seen the movie!!

Seriously spoilers!!!

Caine stumbled while trying to staunch the blood flowing from his wounds. He gritted his teeth trying his everything to ignore the pain. He never wanted to face friends as their killer but he had so much to lose that he had no choice in the matter. He would have cried and begged if it would have changed anything, but it didn’t. So he took his orders with little complaint and now he had to face the consequences. Before he realized he wound up at your doorstep, blood seeping through his fingers and barely conscious. Fumbling around for his cane he knocked twice upon the door he collapsed at. He could hear you fumbling around trying to get to the door, it was still really early and he knew he’d wake you up if he came. At the moment he just wanted to hear your voice again as it was the one thing in his life that could soothe him.

“Coming,” your muffled voice called still full of sleep. Your slippered feet padding against the floor before the door opened.

“Morning,” Cain grinned at your gasp. In seconds you were at his side not worried a bit of the blood staining your morning robe.

“What happened to you,” you choked dragging Caine’s weak form inside.

“I faced John in a duel,” he coughed. “Watch out for your rugs.”

“Screw the rugs,” you argued placing him down gently. “You can’t even see them I don’t know what you’re worried for.”

Caine laughed, grimacing as it tugged at the bullet wounds that were still seeping blood. “Just because I can’t see them doesn’t mean everyone else can’t.”

“They make new ones I can assure you,” you retorted. Before he could answer, he heard you leave him alone in your living room. You returned moments later, your hurried footsteps telling him how worried you were. Caine also heard the sounds of your first aid kit rattling in your hands.

“I’m still bleeding out on your rugs,” he called when he knew you were close enough to hear.

“Shut up about the rugs,” you huffed. “If it’ll make you feel better I’ll let you buy me a new set. I’m picking them out though you have no sense of style.”

Caine grimaced in pain but couldn’t help the smile that came to his face, “It’s hard to tell which color is which.”

“Oh yeah,” you snorted, “did you suddenly become colorblind?”

“How did you know?”

“Woman’s intuition.”

When you first met Caine his sense of humor had made you feel awkward as you didn’t want to offend him for his lack of sight. But despite his line of work, Caine didn’t take much seriously around you and he liked to joke around to keep things light. It had taken you some time to get used to his form of humor. But now as you had gotten to know him more you played along.

Caine quietly touched your knee as you prepared to patch him up the best you could. It reminded him much of the first time you both met. A woman such as yourself taking pity upon a man bleeding out in the street, despite not knowing that he could possibly be dangerous. In return you had found a new friend and Caine found someone who he could share a little of himself with.

“You do know that the only thing I sew is holes in my clothing right,” you asked, shattering his train of thought.

Caine reached for your wrist holding it tightly as you trembled at the thought of hurting him worse. But the thought of him dying in your floor, scared you more.

“I trust you,” he replied with conviction laced in his words.

“You really need to go to the hospital Caine,” you whined.

“Can’t afford the questions they would ask.”

You sighed, “Whatever. Just promise me not to die on my watch okay?”

Many grunts, tears (mostly yours), paper towels, and swears you had Caine patched up once more. You had guided him carefully to your couch where you made sure to get him comfortable. Now he laid there listening to you clean up the mess he had caused. Your humming was wobbly and he could hear your fingers shaking against each other as you had a hard time grabbing the soiled bandages and cotton balls from your floor.

“Are you okay,” he asked turning his head in your direction though he couldn’t see you.

“Getting there,” you answered.

Caine always liked how truthful you were with him and yourself. You never hid a thing from him and he found it refreshing. His life revolved around lies and secrets that he was finally free from. His thoughts circled to his daughter and he wanted her to meet you. As you had been his only friend for a long time now, Caine wasn’t willing to let that disappear now that he no longer had any obligations to the High Table. He breathed deeply, his skin pulling taut against the stitches you had carefully put in him. He grinned to himself until you came back again, finally done from cleaning up.

“Are you hungry,” you asked taking a seat on the floor beside him.

“Maybe later.” 

“Okay.”

Silence settled back in between you both and for the first time in a long time you felt awkward around Caine. He could tell that you were wanting to talk more, you just didn’t know how to start the conversation. Nor did you want to pry too much into something that you didn’t need to know. Caine hated when you felt this way and he hoped now that he had found his freedom once more that you would find the freedom to talk to him more. Ask him questions you normally wouldn’t due to his life he had hidden from you. You had been his oasis, a hidden one in the desert that he wouldn’t let the High Table even lay eyes upon. Now he had you to himself and you were always there for him no matter what.

“You can ask me (Y/N),” he said searching for your hand. You offered it to him and he held it with a firm grasp. You sucked in a breath at the feeling of his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“What happened,” you asked finally. It had been bothering you and while you didn’t want to pry into matters you had no right to know, you couldn’t deny the curiosity eating you inside.

Caine sighed but refused to release your hand, “I gained my freedom but I had to kill one of my friends to earn it.”

He was glad in this moment that he couldn’t see your face or the expression that had to cross it. He could imagine it though and it tore his heart to shreds.

“I’m sorry Caine.”

“What are you sorry for,” he asked. “You didn’t pull the trigger.”

“I know,” you sniffed. “I just can’t imagine the hurt you’re going through right now.

Wordlessly Caine cupped your cheek, his other hand never leaving the grip on your hand. He traced your features with the rough pad of his thumb, finally allowing himself the moment to ‘see’ your face. Your skin was flawless beneath his touch, your lips soft, and the outline of your jaw round. Though he couldn’t see you visually he found you beautiful all the same. Your breathing quickened and you found yourself losing to his touch. He had taken the life of his friend and by the way he said it many others. You couldn’t imagine what Caine was going to have to live with for the rest of his life, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to abandon him. You suddenly didn’t care about his sins, what mattered to you most was that he was here. He was finally free and now you could see the man Caine was actually, the man he didn’t want to hide. You remained still, letting Caine do what he needed. You couldn’t deny that feelings had grown after that first encounter, you just never made them known or want to push him in anything. Caine just didn’t open up to outsiders and you didn’t want to be the woman who cut off his only escape from the daily life he lived. You were always his confident and while you longed for something more you never wanted to push your feelings upon him. But now as he smoothed his fingers across your features you couldn’t suppress the excited shiver. He grinned at the emotions he was making you feel. The thoughts of John on the back burner as he was now free to acknowledge everything he couldn’t before, and one of those things was how he felt about you.

While you didn’t believe so, to him you were absolute perfection and he wanted to spend the rest of his days making you believe it. He leaned in closer, ignoring the pain that the tugs on his stitches created. You were more important, this was your time, and this was the moment that he was going to make you his. You pressed closer seeing what Caine was trying to do. Mere seconds lapsed and the distance closed, his lips upon yours. He moved gently caressing you with all the pent up emotions, the salt of your tears dancing upon his tongue, while the sharp tang of disinfectant filled his nose. It couldn’t have been a more perfect moment to him as he found his new beginning laying on your couch, wounded, tired, and still sad. But there was brightness ahead and he couldn’t wait for you to meet his daughter. Caine smiled once he parted from you, laying back to finally relax, did he fall asleep while you remained at his side.

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

Challenge Accepted (Why you calling me tonight part II)

Ex!August Walker x POC!Reader

Walter Marshall x POC!Reader

Summary:

Determined to get what he wants, August darkens your door.

Warnings:

Exes, Smut, Shameless Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Possessive Sex, August Walker Lives (Mission: Impossible), Light Angst, Love Triangles

Notes:

Hello Heathens, I originally wrote this as a quick one shot. I had no intention of making a follow up. The response I got to this fic surprised me and I felt compelled to write another part. So thank you to everyone who liked, shared and left comments. This is for you! I hope I don't disappoint. Happy Reading!

Divider @firefly-graphics Banner @cafekitsune

I’m going about my business in the shop. Unpacking our new shipment of books, and updating our inventory on the computer, when I hear the bell above the door jingle. I look up, ready with a greeting on my tongue, to welcome them to the shop. The words die on my tongue as I watch August’s large frame stride with purpose towards me. I should have expected it, after the way the other night went, but to actually see him in the flesh is a shock to my system. All the feelings I had suppressed, the hurt, the betrayal, the rage all come flooding back.

“Get out.” I state, deathly calm. “You have no business being here, August. No matter if my heart still has a beat left for you, I’ve moved on. You witnessed that in full 1080p, in fact.”

“I think our time apart has messed with your head a bit, Sugar. I’ve searched the world for you, for five long years. Intending to bring you home, and rectify the situation. You were, and always will be mine. No low level local detective could hold a candle to the level of possession, and love I have for you.” August confesses.

“Is that right?” Walter challenges as he comes out from the back room. “To me it looks like you fucked up royally, and just can’t stand to see someone else not only having what you perceived as yours, but doing a better job to keep her.”

“You don't want to go there with me Detective.”

“You have no power here, Agent.” Walter stands his ground, placing a hand on my hip. “Unlike you, I actually listen, and care about her needs. If she wants you to leave, then you leave. How the task ends up completed, is all on you.”

“I’d like to see you try and remove me. We have unfinished business, her and I.”

Walter walks up to August until they stand toe to toe. “I won't disrespect the shop, and all of her hard work by getting blood on the floor or breaking furniture. She deserves better than that.” He looks over to me and winks before returning his gaze to August. “But your ego seems to need to be knocked down a peg or two. So here is my offer. My buddy Syverson, owns the boxing gym down the street. We head over there and settle this the old fashion way, with gloves.”

“You’re not literally fighting over me Walter.” I exclaim.

“Oh, honey. I’m just going to teach him a lesson. I already know where I belong with you. He’s not fighting me to win you. That prize is not on the table. You’re mine. I’m just making sure he understands that.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone and makes a call, “Sy, yeah it’s Walt. Tell me, how full is the gym right now? Only the morning regulars?” he asks, pausing for Sy to respond. “Perfect. You mind helping me settle something?”

“Is he serious?” August turns to ask me.

“Walter is not really the joking type. So, yes. He is very serious.” I respond. 

“Just need to remind someone of their place. Don't want to mess up the bookshop in the process, that’s all,” Walter continues his conversation with Sy. “Great, see you a minute. Can you grab my bag from my locker, I believe you still have the spare key.”

He hangs up the phone, returning to me. Pulling me in close. “I’m going to head over to Sy’s. You’re welcome to come spectate. But I’ll leave that up to you. I’m sure Mikey will film the whole ordeal.”

“I’m not going to stay here, racked with anxiety. I’m going with you. It is my honor you're fighting for afterall.”

“As you wish, sweetness. Go ahead and lock up. I’ll see you over there.” He bends down and lays one whopper of a kiss on my lips. I swear I’m swooning as my knees get weak.

“August.” He turns to the glaring agent. “You’re heading over with me. Hopefully Sy has some gym clothes around your size you can borrow.”

“And if I refuse this challenge?”

“You won't. Your pride wont let you.” He smugly proclaims.

August just growls in annoyance. His eyes give me a final once over, as Walter holds open the door for him to walk out. 

This can only go one of two ways. But no matter the outcome Walter is coming home with me.

Primal Physique Gym…

"I looked into you." August calmly states as he emerges from the locker room where he went to change. Sy, having been informed by Walter of what was going on, had provided him with a set of shorts and a t-shirt with the gym’s logo on it.

Not phased by August’s admission, Walter begins to wrap his hands. "Figured you would. You Feds love to dig up dirt."

August takes a seat on the bench across from where Walter is leaning against the ring. He looks for a set of tape to start wrapping his own hands. "Ex wife and daughter huh. Does she know? Do they?"

Hoping to catch the man off guard, Walter tosses the tape in his direction. Narrowly missing his face as August catches it with one hand. 

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but yes. They all know each other. Pretty well, in fact.” He pushes off the ring, turns to grab the ropes and pulls himself inside. Shaking out his limbs and bouncing on his feet, warming up.

August just murmurs to himself in a growly tone. This is not going how I planned. This Detective seems un-bothered by my presence. His confidence is irritating.

The gym doors open and both men turn to see me making my way over to the ring. Stopping to hug Mikey along the way. He helps to lighten my mood, making me laugh out loud and squeeze his arm to keep balanced.

She is way too comfortable with all of these men. 

“If it isn't our resident Bell gracing the menfolk with her presence. Just as her Beast faces off with Gaston.” Sy hollers from the ring.

“Oh, hush Sy.” I shake my head at his antics. Walking up to the ring, I take careful note of the state of my boyfriend and my ex standing in their respective corners. “Is Little Red around? I could use her special brand of support?”

“She’s in the office. I won’t let her work the floor much anymore.” Sy replies.

“I’m sure she’s loving that.” I laugh.

“Oh Little Red!” He shouts.

August watches on as a petite woman with bright red unruly curls walks out from the office in the back. Slightly waddles out is more like it, as she is very clearly pregnant, looking as if she is smuggling a medicine ball under her shirt.

A smile spreads across my face as Sy’s wife approaches me. “He really did ya dirty didn't he? Those genes couldn’t make a tiny baby if they honestly tried.”

“He’s lucky I love him, the big oaf.” She complains, rubbing her round belly. “What brings you to our little gym in the middle of the day?”

“That would be Walter and my ex’s fault.” I point towards the aforementioned individuals.

She quirks a brow and eyes the men occupying her ring along with her husband. She takes an extra beat to examine August from head to toe. He stands up straighter as she inspects him.

“That super villain looking asshole with the mustache is your ex?” She asks.

“Mmhmm.” I confirm.

“Looks like a dirty cop.” She blurts out.

“He’s CIA actually.” 

“So he’s a dirty cop for the government.” She tilts her head. “Gotta say, you’ve got a type girl. Why is he here?”

“That would be my doing Red.” Walter raises a gloved hand. “He showed up to the shop this morning. Mostly to try his luck at getting her back. Apparently the message of her being taken wasn’t clear enough when he called last weekend.” 

“So, what, you’re fighting over her like Neanderthals'?” 

“No. Like I told her, she’s not a prize to be won. I’m just making sure he understands where he stands in her life now. That lesson just so happens to involve our fists. Verbally and visually it didn't seem to take.”

Red looks to me. “You ok with this babe? I can put a stop to this nonsense with a snap of my fingers.”

I nod my head. “I’m good with it. Walter’s right. August is stubborn and hard headed. He still feels entitled to me because my heart is stupid enough to still hold a place for him. He’s not good at sharing his presumed toys.”

“You’re not a toy damnit!” August shouts. “I fucking love you. Just because you left doesn’t make you any less mine as it did before.”

“Sure. Even if that is true. I’m not just yours anymore. I am very much Walter’s. He’s put in the work and helped me heal from the damage you caused August.” I point an accusatory finger at him, “You did that!”

“Oh yeah, he’s such a fucking gentleman. With his preteen daughter and an ex wife who left him for working too much. Oh and that psychologist he slept with that he works with. Somehow he’s better than me?” August grits out.

Walter bounces from leg to leg, resisting the urge to punch August in his smug face and get this over with. He looks to me to calm the rage building inside. 

“I don’t fault him for his past.” I confidently state. “Just like I never did yours. Only difference here, is that he’s not hiding it from me. He takes into consideration my feelings and needs without assuming he knows what’s best. He’s not trying to best you, August. This is no competition. He’s coming down to your level, to get you to see the reason why it is that way. Sometimes fists are more effective than visual aids.”

“And if I win?” August asks.

“I’m not giving him up, August. I thought I wasn’t a toy?”

“You’re not.”

Walter chooses this moment to speak up. “Then stop trying to make her a prize to be won. Let’s get this aggression out of our systems and then we can tackle what happens next. I can’t and won’t speak for her on how this all will affect her. I just think cooler heads will prevail once our anger has settled.”

“You may regret those words shortly.” August retorts.

“I’m not afraid of you, August. I welcome the challenge to best you. So let’s get on with it. Three 5 minute rounds. The gym decides the winner.”

“You’re on.” August agrees. 

They tap gloves and head back to their respective corners as a bell rings. The fight is under way.

The next 15 minutes seems to fly by as I watch the ruthless aggression being displayed in the ring before me. Walter and August are pretty evenly matched. They're about the same size and height but where August lets his anger take control, Walter is more calculated and intentional with his punches. 

They’re both getting good licks in. There will definitely be some bruised torsos as well as a cut or two to the face of them both. Just as the clock is ticking down the last 30 seconds of the final round, August goes in for a left jab. Walter dodges it in the nick of time and follows through with an uppercut while August is open and off guard.

He makes perfect contact with his chin. With a heavy thump, August falls to the mat, out cold. Walter has won by a knockout. I expect to see triumph and a fist raised in the air coming from Walter. What I witness instead, is him getting down on one knee to check on August.

When he opens his eyes, Walter offers his arm to get him to his feet. “Good fight. You almost had me there for a minute. I got lucky with that last hit.”

Shocked by the display of kindness, August takes a moment before taking the offered hand. “Looks like the better man won.”

I run into the ring as both men get to their feet. “Shit, August are you okay?”

“Just fine, Sugar. Your man here is built like a brick house.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, agent. You're a tank yourself.”

“Did that hit knock some screws loose?” I wonder aloud.

“Not at all. I think it cleared some things up for me actually.” August replies.

“Oh-kay.” I look at him suspiciously. “Let’s go get everyone cleaned up and looked after. Red, can we use the private locker room?”

“Of course, love. Sy, hand her the keys. Take as much time as you need.” She winks at me conspiratorially.

I take the offered keys and lead the men into the private locker room.

I quickly attended to both men’s various cuts and bruises. I’m no stranger to patching up a wounded grump. August received that far more than Walter had had to, but nevertheless my knowledge was appreciated.

Once each man was assessed, we all headed over to the large open shower to clean the grime and dirt away. Thankfully Sy had installed benches in his private locker room that allowed for August to rest as he cleaned up.

Walter made use of them in a far more sinful way. He allowed me to wash his body as I stood on the bench to help with the height difference. Once the last sud was rinsed from his skin, he had my legs wrapped around his waist and his fingers deep inside me.

I gasped as he stretched me out around his thick digits. Making sure I was ready to take his cock. Eyes closed, I released a moan as he entered my slick channel. He held me there, impaled on his cock. Letting me catch my breath, as my body acclimated to his size.

Peering over his shoulder to the bench on the opposite wall I spot August. He’s watching us with rapt attention. His hard dick in hand, stroking himself, as he enjoys the show.

Walter whispers in my ear, “Look at how badly he wants you, baby girl. Seeing us over the phone must have been bad enough. It drove him to come here after all. I must imagine losing to me and having us show him kindness afterword stung as well. Having you writhing against me, pinned to this wall must be fucking torture. Think we should extend our kindness further, sweetheart?”

I whimper as he grinds against my pelvis, teasing my engorged clit. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m not giving up this tight pussy tonight. But I am feeling generous. If you're feeling up to it, I’m okay with you helping him get to the finish line. Looks like he’s not far away as it is.”

“But I’d have to stop fucking you.” I pout.

“Who said anything about you getting off my dick? I’ll pound this sweet little pussy as he comes down your throat. I’m not going anywhere. It’s all up to you baby. Whatever you choose, I’m game. I told you you weren't a prize to be fought for. I’m secure enough to share when needed.” He winks.

“Then I’m going to need you to move us down to the floor.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m going to ride you while I give August the blow job a lifetime. Make him regret having run me off. Leave a memory that haunts him for the rest of his days. Another woman will never be able to compare to me. He’ll be chasing a ghost forever. This will be my parting gift.”

“Fuck. Who knew you could be so ruthless.” He ravages me with a kiss. “It’s fucking sexy. We’re going to have to play around with that later. For now let’s close the chapter on your ex.”

“With pleasure.”

He lifts me off of his length and lowers himself to the floor. Laying on his back as I move to straddle his thighs. Placing my back to him, I grab his cock. Making sure to face August, I then proceed to sink down Walters thick girth, maintaining eye contact with the agent.

I crook two fingers in his direction. “Come here, August. I need you to stand before me.”

“Letting me join in on the fun this time. I knew you couldn't resist me.”

“That’s not it at all, August.” I look up at him as he settles before me. “In fact this will be the last time you'll ever see me in this position for you. This is the last time my lips will ever touch your skin. The last time your seed will ever fill me.”

He quirks a brow.

“I want you to take it all in. The feel of my mouth around your cock. How my throat constricts around your thickness. How I’m taking what I want from you as I ride the man I’m falling for. Taking from him what he is willingly giving me. Watch the pleasure cross his face as my walls squeeze around him while I turn you into a whimpering mess.” 

A devious smile illuminates my face.

“Remember it all, August. Because it is all you will ever have of me after today.”

“What?!” He grits.

“Once this is over. You will leave. You will go back to wherever it is in the world you're currently called to and you will never darken my doorstep again. You will not call. You will not write. This is my parting gift to you. A kindness I need not bestow. Be wise in your decision.”

“You’ve changed, Sugar.”

“For the better. I’ve always known my worth, but with you, I had my doubts sometimes. It’s not like that with Walter. I’m giving this relationship a chance. I’m jumping in head first. I can’t do that with you lurking in the shadows, August. This is it. So what will it be?”

Walter gives my hips a little squeeze, comforting my trembling frame. Proof that my words may be said in confidence but my body is riddled with anxiety.

“Fuck it. I man knows when he’s truly been bested. I’ll take whatever crumbs you’ll give me and hold on to them until the end of time.” He states. “But if I find out he has hurt you or you split up. I’m coming back for you. I’ll honor your request, but I’ll never stop keeping tabs on you.”

Instead of responding to his declaration with words, I lean forward and wrap my lips around his leaking tip. The time for words is over. Action is all that is needed. I put everything I have into that final blow job. Swallowing him deep and humming out a familiar tune. All while I undulate and ride the grizzly man beneath me. 

The locker room fills with the sounds of moans and groans echoing off the walls as the hot water of the shower beats down on the porcelain. I have no idea how much time has passed but I can feel myself nearing my end. 

Every swivel of my hips has me closer to losing control. I double my efforts on the cock lodged in my throat. My head bobs up and down with vigor as I race to bring August over the finish line. I look up into his cerulean blues, locking eyes as I reach a hand up to squeeze his heavy balls.

August grips my hair as his hips thrust erratically against my face. We maintain eye contact as he releases a roar, shooting rope after rope of his seed down my throat.

When his cock gives its final twitch, he removes himself. We hold each other's gaze for just a beat more before I’m spun around to face Walter. He pulls himself up into a seated position and grabs my hips for leverage as he moves me up and down his cock. 

He kisses me with fervor. Uncaring that I still have the taste of my ex freshly lingering on my tongue. It’s possessive and powerful. Full of love and possibility. I break the kiss. Coming up for air as our foreheads rest against one another.

“I’m right there with you, baby. I’m just waiting for you to come undone all around me so I can fill you up. Gonna have you walking around with me slowly leaking out of you the rest of the day. But I can’t do that until you come first. You will always come first.” Walter grunts out.

His words are my undoing. The conviction in his voice snapping the tightened coil in my core. I come with a cry, writhing and clawing at his back. Feeling his cock swell as he loses control himself and begins to paint my walls creamy white.

My hips slow as we come down from our respective highs together. Sharing sweet kisses and gentle caresses. 

“Time to get cleaned up, baby girl.”

“I thought I was to be leaking you all night?”

“Oh, you will be. I’ll clean every other inch of your skin. But your pussy is exactly how I want her. Full of me.”

As I proceed to stand up and head back towards the water; my eyes scan the room. August is nowhere in sight. I hadn’t noticed that he had slipped out. Lost in the throes of my earth shattering orgasm.

A sense of peace settles over me as I take in that he honored my request. I know he will still remain in the shadows, watching, waiting patiently to pounce at the first sign of trouble. But I vow to live such a full life with Walter that that chance never happens.

Here's to hoping.

[somedaylazysomeday]

Misbehaving - Part Three

Commander Cody x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Rating: Explicit, NC-17, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: angst, slight dubcon in an established relationship, spanking, underprepared piv, rough sex, use of a safeword, hurt/comfort, slight AU

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Cody was an even-tempered man.

You supposed that was part of what made him such an excellent commander. A marshal commander, at that - one of the highest-ranked men in the entirety of the Grand Army of the Republic. Everyone trusted Cody to do his job, from his generals to the men who served under his command. He made the right choices, that was as indisputable as the position of the planets in the galaxy. You had never seen Cody less than professional.

Until you did.

You hadn’t expected him to come to you on Coruscant when he did. He couldn’t always tell you exactly when he was going to be on-planet for security reasons, but he tried to keep you reasonably in the loop. A vague idea of when to expect him was better than knowing nothing at all, and you loved that he did that for you.

You had been shocked to answer a firm knock on your apartment door and find your boyfriend standing on the other side. The circumstances surrounding his presence were strange, something about being called away on urgent business that ended up being less urgent than the communications had insinuated. In fact, Cody confided, he couldn’t understand why he had needed to accompany General Kenobi back to Coruscant at all. The Jedi was left running circles around the Senate with his old padawan while Cody waited to receive updates on the total planetary takeover the 212th and 501st were attempting.

In any case, you were happy to have him around. Without the presence of his men on-planet, Cody had taken to staying with you most of the time rather than sleeping in the barracks. For nearly a week, you had lived together, half-pretending that Cody was a normal military man stationed on Coruscant and that he wouldn’t be shipped out again with only hours of notice to fight in the galaxy-wide war.

You slept by Cody’s side, kissed him goodbye in the morning before you both left for work, then you came home to share a meal together. It was bliss, especially since his distraction at the odd mission hadn’t extended to the bedroom. No, Cody was hyper-focused when it came to your pleasure, no matter what else was going on. He was always attentive to your needs, no matter what they were.

Which was why you were surprised when he didn’t come home one night.

Part of you wondered if he had been called back to the front with no notice at all… but that didn’t make sense. Cody had always managed to get some kind of message to you, even if it was something small and subtle, or originating from an unfamiliar comlink, or passed through his men.

There had been nothing of the sort this time. He just… hadn’t come back.

You were a frazzled mess by the time the sky had darkened. Should you contact Cody’s general? Technically speaking, Cody wasn’t supposed to be in a relationship and could get in trouble for it, but General Kenobi hadn’t seemed like the type to care overly much about the particulars of GAR regulations. And at least you would know if Cody was okay. 

It seemed that you had reached for your comlink a dozen times and pulled your hand away a dozen more when you heard the noise of someone tapping at the keypad outside of your door. 

You had surged to your feet by the time the door slid open to reveal Cody. Your handsome commander stepped inside, his face blank and his motions sharp as he entered the apartment. He didn’t speak, and you caught the way he was clutching his helmet so hard that his knuckles were pale.

“Cody?” you asked gently. “I was worried when you didn’t come home. Are you- Is everything okay?”

Cody’s face turned toward you, his eyes lacking all of their familiar warmth. That was the least concerning part, though - you were stricken by the way he didn’t seem to react at the sight of you, like you were some stranger he had never met and never would.

“Cody?” you asked again, stepping a bit closer but stopping when you noticed the speed of his breathing.

His gaze caught on yours. That horrifying blankness faded slightly, but his eyes were bright - too bright. There was an edge of something in them, something that looked like desperation and the beginnings of hopelessness.

“Cody, talk to me,” you pled. “What happened?”

Cody shook his head slowly, but the motion didn’t stop. “I can’t- can’t talk about it. I need you. I need… to be in control.”

You nodded immediately. “Whatever you need, just tell me.”

“Strip,” he ordered. “Then get on your bed, hands and knees.”

“Yes, Commander,” you replied, more worried than ever when that failed to elicit a response from him. Still, you did as he said, retreating to your bedroom while you fumbled at the buttons of your shirt and pushed your comfortable lounge pants away. When you had made it to your room, a trail of clothing in your wake, you climbed onto the bed and balanced on your hands and knees before you glanced back.

Cody was standing just inside the door, watching you intently. He was still wearing his full, orange-painted armor, but his hands dropped to undo the piece of plastoid that covered his crotch. It was the only piece he removed before he stepped to the edge of the bed behind you. 

“Down to your elbows,” he told you, voice still strange.

You obeyed, widening your knees to grant him better access to your core. Unfortunately, you weren’t anywhere near ready for him. You hadn’t exactly been thinking sexy thoughts that evening and it was only worse with your lover there. This mood was something you had never seen from Cody and you were too worried to be aroused.

His hand cupped your mound, thumb stroking over the delicate lips of your sex. You shivered at the feeling of his warm hand surrounding such a sensitive area and made a small sound of pleasure when the pad of his thumb pushed closer to press against your clit.

Your body began to relax, blooming for the man you loved, but slower than you would have liked. Cody apparently felt the same way, because his other hand cracked solidly against your ass cheek. You gave a surprised grunt at the unexpected contact. Cody always liked to warn you when you were getting a spanking because he wanted to be thanked.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, Cody sighed. “Forgetting to say ‘thank you’? You’ve already lost your manners. That’ll be five more and a pussy smack.”

That seemed like a steep punishment considering he had forgotten to warn you. “But-”

“We could make it ten and two if you’d rather,” Cody said sharply.

“No, sir, I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“Good girl. Count.”

And that was the only signal he gave you before his tensed palm rained down again and again on your cheeks. You kept up with the first two or three, but got lost in the ‘thank you, sir’s and fell behind. Your efforts cut off entirely when Cody’s palm connected between your spread legs with a wet smack, leaving you squealing and trying not to writhe.

There was a typical swell of sensation with a spanking. You had learned that much over the course of your relationship with Cody. The collision between hand and cheek left your skin, muscle, and fat rippling in the wake - a process that was mirrored by the way the sensations rippled over your skin. Spankings built heat slowly, spreading until it eventually gathered in your core. A properly delivered spanking left you trembling, wet, and begging for your commander.

A spank to your pussy was different. Instead of allowing the sensation to build, it was forced into your nerves, direct and immediate in a way that was overwhelming more often than not. It was meant to be overwhelming, the most pleasurable punishment Cody could deliver… and the most punishing pleasure.

The five spanks hadn’t been enough to build a slow heat in your core, but the feeling of his hand clapping against the lips of your sex pushed the intensity immediately to a level you weren’t quite ready for. Instead of scraping together your shuddering brain cells enough to thank Cody as he wanted, you were left gaping blankly at your pillows as you tried to process the sheer amount of sensation stemming from that single action.

“Ten and two it is,” Cody bit out.

Another five spanks hit your heated ass, the tenth connecting with a sharp noise so loud that your neighbors probably heard it. You got to nine, broke off to fight back a grunt at the hit, and made it halfway through counting the tenth when he spanked the rapidly swelling lips of your sex firmly and you cut off to catch your breath.

“Still not counting?”

You frowned, the expression going unseen since it was aimed at the mattress rather than at Cody. “Sorry, but-”

“But?” Cody repeated, voice filled with mocking. “But you’re not trying hard enough. No excuses, nothing to hide behind. You don’t have to count these last five, but you’ll feel them.”

“Wait-”

The first spank took your breath away. Cody was a strong man. He claimed it was because he had been engineered that way, but he also spent time in the gym, working to increase that strength even further. He had never used that strength against you, though, especially not in the bedroom.

This probably wasn’t his full strength, either, but it was enough to push more weight onto your elbows, rocking you forward and back until your cheek was planted against your bedspread. The last hit was hard enough that your knees briefly left the bed, your body suspended between your elbows and the force of his hand against your ass.

“Easy enough without the counting, huh?” Cody asked. “And that seems to have done the trick.” Two of his fingers pushed into your wet core with no warning, forcing your breath out in a surprised huff.

You were adventurous in the bedroom, especially with Cody there to encourage and support you. Even so, this was riding the line of what you considered acceptable, but that last set of spanks had filled your mind with a pleasantly buzzing numbness. You were wet, you could feel that much, and what he was doing felt good, if a little overwhelming.

As Cody’s fingers scissored in your heat, you struggled to ride the pleasure without letting it crash over you and destroy you in its wake. Those sensations grew tenfold as he began to pull his fingers out and plunge them steadily back into you. It didn’t feel bad, even if it was starting to not feel entirely good. You were certainly wet enough to allow him inside, but you were concerned about non-physical parts of this.

You lifted yourself back up onto your elbows, preparing to glance back at Cody and ask him to move a little slower, but the question died in your throat as Cody gripped your hips and sank his length inside of you. 

Over your strangled cry, you heard Cody give a hoarse grunt of his own. He didn’t give you a moment to breathe, moving immediately into a punishing rhythm that left you gasping and trying to move enough to make the angle something less sharp and stabbing.

“Cody-”

“Commander,” he reminded sharply, slamming his hips into yours.

Impossibly, his pace picked up from there, knocking you from your precarious perch on your elbows until your cheek was pressed against the bedspread once more. The fog from the spanking was starting to fade and you were growing steadily more aware that this session wasn’t working for you. You liked rough sex, but you had to build up to it and you just… hadn’t. It was too much, too sudden, and you needed him to slow things down.

“Cody,” you said, trying to sound more firm even through the way his pounding impacted the flow of your speech.

Cody snarled behind you. “Commander.”

He reached forward, gripping your wrists. For a moment, you relaxed, thinking he was going to drape himself over you, your fingers laced together while he breathed praises in your ear. That was one of his favorite things to do at the end of a rough session, and you always enjoyed it. Somehow, that made you feel just as treasured than you did when he used his mouth on you or spent hours teasing you to an overwhelming climax.

That beat of relaxation on your part was enough for him to lever your arms behind you, press them against your back with one hand, and pull your hips back toward him with the other hand. The pressure on the small of your back pushed your ass up further, letting Cody’s hard cock thrust even deeper and your mouth fell open into a shocked gasp.

“Cody - Red.”

The time it took Cody to process the safeword was long enough that he had driven himself back into you and your inner muscles spasmed around his length. It was not a pleasant feeling and you gave a small, pained grunt.

Cody froze there for an impossibly long moment and you could almost feel the way he was processing the best way to proceed from there. He released your arms and you immediately brought them back in front of yourself, trying to push up off the mattress.

One hand pressed against your ass and you flinched - something you were sure he noticed with how his touch lightened even further. “I’m going to pull out of you now, okay?”

You nodded.

The thick slide of Cody’s cock through your folds was one you had always enjoyed, but it was thoroughly unpleasant now. You shuddered when his swollen head finally slipped out of you, trying again to lever yourself up with shaking arms.

Cody’s hand pressed against your hip. “No, stay there.”

You were reluctant to follow any more orders, but your nerves were still buzzing with overwhelmed input, so you did. The only movement you made was to shift so you were lying on one side. You let your eyes close, mostly to disguise the tears that were welling in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush.

“Mesh’la,” Cody said from the doorway an instant after a tear had rolled down your cheek anyway. You opened your eyes to see him looking stricken, that haunted desperation almost solid in his eyes again. He was holding a glass of water, but didn’t make any move to get closer to you. “Are you-? I’m sorry. Kriff, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s-” You cut yourself off to fight back the pinched sound in your own voice. You wouldn’t do either of you any favors if you started crying in earnest. At the same time, you wouldn’t do either of you the injustice of lying and telling him it was fine.

“What can I do?” Cody asked, his voice low and soothing. Even his body language was soft and nonthreatening, his broad shoulders curling inward in a way that made him look smaller than you had ever seen him, even with the armor he was still wearing.

“Water,” you replied simply. 

He started for the bed eagerly, but checked his pace before he got too close. By the time he reached out to hand you the glass, he had been moving at a pace that was slow enough to be nonthreatening. You took the glass without any of your earlier hesitation. You had cooled down slightly and knew Cody wasn’t going to do anything to hurt you. Also, you were incredibly thirsty.

In only moments, you had drained the glass and set it gently on the bedside table. Cody was watching you, scarcely hidden fear in the depths of his eyes. 

“Cody,” you murmured, your voice hiccuping awkwardly between one syllable and the next.

“What is it, cyare?” he asked tenderly. “What can I do for you? Anything you need.”

“Take off your armor and hold me?” you requested. 

After such a short hesitation that you barely noticed it, Cody started to work at the plastoid plates, stripping them away and setting them gently but haphazardly on the floor of your room. He was clearly aiming for softness of sound rather than neatness - a rarity for the fastidious commander.

When he had finished and was dressed only in his black body glove, he hesitated again at the edge of the mattress, but when you held out a hand in his direction, he took it immediately. Cody had laced his fingers through yours by the time he settled on the bed beside you, reaching slowly with his free hand as he wrapped it around you. 

Cody wanted to talk. That much was clear as his breathing paused and caught occasionally, only to be released in a heavy sigh. He never spoke, but it didn’t take long for you to realize that he was carefully tracing every mark he had left on your skin:

The tender flesh of your forearms where he had anchored them behind your back.

The finger-shaped bruises rapidly forming on your hips from where he had held you.

The aching fullness of your cheeks from where he had delivered those brutal spanks.

“I’m so sorry, mesh’la,” he murmured over and over until your heart was aching at least as much as anything else.

“I won’t lie and say it’s okay, Cody,” you told him, feeling momentarily worse when his breath whooshed out like you had hit him. “But what matters more is that you stopped when I asked you to. That’s the most important thing.”

Cody relaxed slightly against you, but tensed again when you amended, “Well, the second most important thing.”

“What’s the most important?” he asked, voice careful. 

“Are you okay?” you returned, your suspicions confirmed when his gaze skated away immediately and decisively. “You never come on that strong, especially without building up to it first. You told me you needed control and I told you I could handle it. I couldn’t and I’m sorry about that.”

Cody was shaking his head before you even finished speaking. “I should never have given you the option, little one. I knew better and I did it anyway. There’s nothing you need to be sorry about.”

You hummed skeptically. “But can I ask why? I’ve never- never seen you like that.”

Cody’s warm body shuddered against you and your eyes whipped to scan his face. Sure enough, it had crumpled in a way you had never seen before as tears streamed down his face in pained catharsis. In a moment, he had gone from your stoic commander to a broken man aged beyond his years. Your heart shattered for him.

You sat up and wrapped yourself around him before you could even register that you were planning to move. Cody - strong, stubborn Cody - let you tuck his head against your chest while you rocked him back and forth, murmuring soothing nonsense until the hot tears stopped flowing and he was left shaking like a man freezing to death in your arms.

“My- my men,” he gasped eventually, rushing the words out between painful shudders. “I left them and- and they-” 

He broke off, making a sound of pain so profound that it sounded harsher than anything a human should be capable of producing. Your arms tightened around him just as his did the same around you.

“Shh, shhhh…” you told him. “If it’s too much, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

Cody shook his head. In choppy bits and strangled pieces, he told you what had happened, outlining a tragedy on a far-off planet called Umbara. Even as he offered the explanation, you got the picture of a Jedi doing the unthinkable, men forced into a horrible position, and a universe-shaking betrayal of trust and the chain of command, along with a disregard for lives so reckless that you were trembling just as hard as Cody.

“I understand now,” you assured the man you loved. “You needed to feel in-control of something. It’s okay, Cody.”

“It isn’t,” he disagreed. “I betrayed my men, abandoned them when they needed me. And then I came here, falling apart, and tried to use you to glue myself back together. I almost shattered you at the same time.”

“But you didn’t,” you reminded him firmly, silencing his budding protests with a kiss. “Even facing something no one should ever have to - and taking on guilt that was never yours to carry - you stopped when I needed you to. You recognized our safeword and then did what you could to make things right.”

Cody’s arms tightened another fraction before they loosened. You watched his eyelids flutter closed, his dark lashes only drawing attention to the circles beneath them.

“And you cannot blame yourself for this, Cody,” you insisted, loathe as you were to disturb this moment of peace. “You are just as much a victim of this situation as any of your men. Maybe you weren’t on Umbara when things went wrong, but you were following orders just like every one of the 212th.”

“If I had been there-”

“You weren’t there,” you interrupted. “You weren’t there because you were doing your duty and standing by your general. There’s no way of knowing whether anything would have gone differently if you were there. Stars, that Jedi may have killed you if you didn’t go along with his orders.”

Your grip tightened involuntarily as you thought over your own words. Yes, that was an extremely likely outcome. If your brave boyfriend had been on Umbara as the tide began to shift, he would have said something and - if it came down to it - why would the rogue Jedi have cared about one more clone’s life if he was ordering them to die by the thousands?

“When do you leave?” you asked instead of voicing any of those very unhelpful thoughts.

“Oh-five-hundred,” he said. “It’s the earliest the general could get jump clearance. The men are holding the planet right now, but we need to get there as soon as possible. There’s too much chance that the locals will rise against them or that the trauma will be too much for the survivors… We need to get there. I need to get there.”

You kissed Cody’s furrowed forehead. You knew better than to tell him to sleep. There probably wouldn’t be any sleep tonight, not for either of you. But for the next few hours, Cody was safe in your arms and you were safe in his. 

It was enough for the night.

---

Author's Note - I know Cody and Obi-Wan were both on Umbara when things went wrong. This is a slight AU imagining that they were both pulled from the planet for fear of interference.

Thanks for reading and sorry about the angst! Feel free to let me know what you thought!

I don't offer a taglist for NSFW fics, but you can check out other works on my masterlist!

[shaevilux]

I'm really fucking behind but here's the day 1 story for #yeehawgust

I'm literally making the story up as it goes along but I really wanted to do a wizard western. I'm scampering to catch up

Gather the Posse

The sign above the Marshall's office had been defaced. It now read 'Marshill' in glowing, animated letters that even emanated a recording of a conversation the marshall seemingly had in private with a nearby cattle baron. About business dealings he should not be able to afford. As he stood outside on the street and glared quietly at it, the sheriff stepped up behind him.

"Marshall Willems..." He started.

"It's a lie. A fabrication. That may be my voice, sheriff. But I never said those things." Willems grumbled.

"Be that as it may, Marshall. That sign still needs to be taken down. We'll need her help." The sheriff had his hands on his hips as he looked up at the sign.

The two men stared quietly at it as they felt the eyes of the townsfolk on them.

"When did it happen? Did no one see it?" The marshall asked.

"Well, it could've been a delayed effect, see. They might have come in in the wee hours, did their modifications, and then set it so that the effect takes place after a set time." The sheriff theorised.

"I don't know, Bill. Ah, hell. Get her, then. But keep her out of my sight. I'll be in the saloon." Willems grumbled, and walked off.

The sheriff sighed, looking at the marshall walking away with his slight limp. He then looked back at the sign, and shook his head.

——

"Boomika." The knock on the door was urgent, and the witch closed her book. She recognised the voice, and the hard rapping. Billy.

She got up and crossed the threshold to the door and opened it.

"Boomika, I—What on god's—" the sherif barely got his words out before Boomika pulled him inside of her hut.

"Whoa!" He shouted as he stumbled in.

"You're marked, Billy." She explained, her hands caressing his face, pushing it this way and that as she pulled his brow up to get a better look into his eyes.

"Marked? What?"

"It's not an easy task. Who have you been with?"

"My wife. And no one else. And get your hands off of me, woman." He shook her away and took a step back.

"Apologies. It is not often I see magic not my own around these parts."

"Yeah... That's why I'm here. The marshall..."

"Imbecile of a man. What of him?"

"Well, err... We think some teenagers are trying to mess with him. Tarnish his reputation."

"That needs no tarnishing."

"Come on, Boomika."

"And he needs my help to deal with teenagers?"

"Well, one of them is magically inclined, you see."

"Ah, so that's why needs of me."

"It's... It's his daughter." Bill said, after a pause.

Boomika turned around, her robes swaying slowly as if affected by a directionless breeze.

"Do tell." She said, not bothering to hide her glee.

"Now, come now, Boomika—"

"Why is this the first I'm hearing of his daughter being 'magically inclined?'"

"You know why." The sheriff sighed, quietly.

"Forgive me, I don't. She went back to her book, opened it to her page, bookmarked it and closed it again.

"Look, it doesn't matter. She's being imprudent. She has some resentment for her father but her antics are getting out of hand."

"The magic mark on you is crude, but effective nonetheless. Where did she train?"

"Train?"

"Her witchcraft."

"She did not. Listen, can we retrace our conversation to the beginning? The marshall—"

"Is the least of my worries. Where is the girl?"

"That's the least of your worries. We need your help to 'demagic' the sign she vandalized."

"What did she do to the sign?" Boomika asked, sauntering to her fireplace, stoking the flames that seemed to recoil at her touch.

"Animated it, gave it some kind of audio relaying capability. It glows now, as well."

"What does it say?"

"Marshill."

Boomika chortled, "I like her."

"I don't like that you like her. Can you come down and fix it? The people are uneasy."

"Those are some complex spells to line up the way she did. I'm guessing the effect was delayed. And any who witnessed it up close were to be marked? Fascinating." She ignored him completely, thinking aloud.

"What does this mark do?" Bill asked, touching his face where she had touched it.

"Just lets the caster know where exactly you are until the effect is over."

"Did... Did you dispel it? Just now? When you were molesting my face?" Bill asked.

"Did you want me to?"

"Yes! Yes, please!" Bill balked.

Boomika twirled her fingers and said some words under her breath, and Bill felt a cool breeze wash over him.

"Done. And she did this with no training, you say? That's impossible. She has been trained somehow."

"That is fascinating. Will you come?" Bill was getting impatient.

"Oh, that is hardly appropriate."

"What? Oh!" Bill went red, and Boomika laughed at his expression.

"Do not joke that way, woman. It is very unbecoming. I am a married man."

"You look pretty when you blush."

——

She felt the eyes at the windows as she approached the Marshall's building. She could hear his voice echoing through the mostly empty streets. Not his voice, she realised. It was a very convincing facsimile. The words, the cadence, it all seemed like something that was truly spoken. A recorded conversation.

But it was not. The marshall had not said those things. Or even if he did, the sound playing now was not the same conversation he had.

No matter.

She stopped in front of the sign and took the magic in.

No doubt about it. The girl was a proper mage.

"You sure it's her? The daughter?" She asked Bill, who stood a few paces behind her. He did not get too close to her out in public.

"Well, besides you and her, no one else around these parts have any shred of the arcane in their veins." He drawled.

She waved her hand at the sign, almost dismissive, and the echoing voice disappeared. And the glowing letters faded, and the letters stopped dancing.

The 'I', however, remained.

"It still says Marshill." Bill pointed out.

"That I can't do much about. You need to cut a new wooden 'A' and put it up there." She lied.

"Uh huh." Billy was not buying it, but he did not press further.

"How is your wife? Still barren?" She asked.

"Alright, then. See you around, Boomika." He said through gritted teeth before turning to leave.

"I apologize. But I do have a potion for that. I meant to say that first."

"We don't need your potions." He did not look back.

"Sorry! You know how I am with words! And please, do continue to visit! I'll have a batch in stock just for you!" She called after him. Billy did not reply.

She truly had not meant to offend. She liked the man. He was the only one who did not fear her like the rest. And for that she was grateful, and wanted to aid him in the ways she could.

She looked at the saloon, and decided to get a drink.

The townsfolk did not take too kindly to her ilk, that much she knew. But they also knew she liked to ruffle feathers.

So, she sauntered on over.

The batwing doors swung open and the conversations came to a stop as the patrons took a look at who entered the building. Boomika continued walking, and the eyes followed her as she stepped up to the bar.

"Your strongest." She said.

The bartender grunted, and went to fetch a glass.

She turned and looked around the bar, and now that she was the one doing the looking, no one would meet her eyes.

No one but the marshall, who held her gaze with a slight frown.

She magicked a hat on to her head, and heard some of the patrons gasp. She then tipped this magicked hat towards the marshall, who rolled his eyes, stood up and came over.

"Don't use that vile witchcraft in a place of public like this." He said, quietly.

"It is a harmless—"

"No magic is harmless. Thank you. For fixing the sign. You did fix it?"

"I dispelled the magic as I was asked to."

"Thank you. Enjoy your drink." He said, sitting down on the stool beside her.

"How is your daughter?" She asked.

"So, you've known?"

"No. Your sheriff only spoke of her arcane prowess today."

"Someone's been teaching her."

"That's what I'm saying."

The marshall looked at Boomika, his eyes searching, his lips pursed as if stopping the words that wanted escape.

"You don't need to ask me yourself." She said, turning away.

"What?"

"Send the sheriff, as you always do. Send him to me and ask him to tell me to find your daughter." She said, draining her glass.

"How dare— No. I'm riding at dawn. With Susie. We're both going to find her. I was about to ask for your help. But—"

"Who's Susie?"

"The naturalist from Washington."

"Naturalist?"

"She offered to help. She's a learned woman. Apparently a good tracker."

"And who will protect the town when we're away? Every town needs a—"

"We? You're not coming."

"You just said you wanted my help."

"No, I said I was about to ASK for your help. But—"

"Who'll be protecting the town while we're away?"

"What? Billy will."

"Billy doesn't know magic."

"He doesn't need magic. He has a gun."

"Billy should come with us."

"Billy and I are the only two lawmen in this town. We can't both leave."

"What about Bowlegged Bill?" She asked, looking to the stout man who sat with his peers at a far table, seeming to strain his ears to catch the conversation happening between the witch and the marshall.

"What about him?"

"He used to be a deputy in some other town, didn't he?"

The marshall looked over as well, and Bowlegged Bill's curiosity got the better of him. He stood up and walked over to the two of them.

"Heard ya both say my name. Anything I can—"

"How long were you a deputy, Bill?" Willems asked.

"Deputy? Back at Redford? Years. Close to a decade."

"State still recognise ya as one?"

"Sure does. I maintain it. Though, I don't much care for the duties. Living a much quieter life now."

"Can you hold down the fort. For a day or so. The sheriff and I... My daughter, you see." The marshall was trying to formulate the words, but Bowlegged Bill put his hand on Willem's shoulder.

"We can hold the fort, marshall. Go find your daughter. And witch, if you so much as—"

Boomika laughed, cutting him off.

"Are you married, Bill?" She asked.

"No."

"Before you threaten me, reflect on why you aren't." She said, standing up and adjusting her robes.

"Four of us, then?" She asked the marshall.

"Yep. We ride at dawn." He said, sighing.

[smutty-books]

Lol, he looks like a coach. Love that jacket and that shirt and the skinny jeans. Totally would borrow those with dubious intention of him getting them back. My 17 year old said ” He looks like such a dad!” when he saw these pictures.

[burnwater13]

Grogu didn’t blame his dad, the Mandalorian, for taking such a hard line with Gor Koresh. The Abyssin mob boss had tried to kill Grogu’s dad and had even tried to kidnap Grogu. That was just wrong. 

Apparently he wanted the Mandalorian’s armor. Beskar was valuable and would fetch a lot of credits. But was it really worth the lives of all those people? The Gamorreans? His other guards? His own life? The Mandalorian didn’t just kill him, but Grogu didn’t think hanging upside down in a dark street in dangerous part of town was really going to be good for Gor Koresh’s health.

Grogu didn’t like that his dad ended people from time to time. But he was beginning to see the wisdom in the old Mandalorian teaching that people who took arms against a Mandalorian warrior had chosen how and when they would die. Mandalorians didn’t just stalk people like an assassin would. You brought your fight them and they ended it. Mostly.

It hadn’t really worked that way with the Imps. But then having the a galaxy wide (more or less) enterprise decide that your planet was surplus to requirement was pretty hard to defend against. Grogu didn’t like to admit it, but he wasn’t sure, that even if Din Djarin had been on Mandalore, that his protector would have been able to stop the Imps from doing their terrible work. 

At least as a bounty hunter, the Mandalorian was going after people who had broken the law. The civil authorities authorized his actions. He was sort of like a Marshal, with a very specific area of focus. Like with Gor Koresh, Din Djarin was certainly stopping a whole host of other crimes from being committed, as well as the ones the cyclops had just committed. Grogu was pretty sure that provided some balance to the whole situation. 

The Jedi believed in peace and strived to find it, support it, and protect it using the Force. Balance was very important for that work according to Grogu’s masters but Grogu wondered now how they had ever managed that. How could you respond to the awful things that one group did to another in a balanced manner? 

He’s asked Master Kelleran about that once, when he was still at the Jedi Temple. Master Kelleran had told him  a story* about a person who was running on the street and another person chased them and knocked them down and began to hit them. Grogu was outraged. That was awful. Then Master Kelleran told him that the person who was running was on fire. Someone had spilled fuel on their clothes and it caught fire. Oh. That was different. 

Master Kelleran asked him why it was different. Grogu replied that the person who caught them wasn’t bad, they were good. They were helping. But Grogu hadn’t known that until all the information was available. True. 

‘That is why balance is important, young one. Tilt too far one way or the other and you are sliding into conclusions that are not correct, are not the truth of the situation. Balance demands the time to understand the whole matter and take appropriate action.”

Grogu remembered nodding his head as if he understood. He understood the lesson far better now than when it had been originally delivered. After all, if you saw the person was on fire, you’d have that information you needed, right? But so much of what he knew was what other people told him. What if they left out key information? What if they were bad or greedy or Sith? They’d never tell you about the ‘fire’. That would change everything. 

In this case, Grogu had seen the fire and the person who lit it.  It wasn’t hidden and the facts were pretty plain. So, the Mandalorian’s actions had been balanced. At least by that measure. 

Still he wondered if they should have let the cyclops go… he’d given Din Djarin the information the Mandalorian had requested. Or was there something else that Grogu was missing? Maybe Gor Koresh liked being upside down while wild critters gathered nearby?  Or maybe someone else was on hand to help the mob boss and Grogu just couldn’t see them or feel their presence through the Force? 

But then Gor Koresh had taken arms against a Mandalorian. Perhaps this was the day he planned on saying good-bye?

*This story within the story is courtesy of a sci-fi story I read many years ago. Sadly I couldn’t find the story to credit the author, but the story itself, of how information changes understanding, has stuck with me through the years and I thought this was a good place to share a tiny piece of it. If you recognize it, let me know. 

[mywifeleftme]

296: Jay-Z // The Blueprint

The Blueprint Jay-Z 2001, Roc-A-Fella

At the time of his “retirement” in 2004, it was basically settled law that Jay-Z was the greatest rapper alive, if not of all time. Even in the moment, the case should’ve felt sketchier. In sales terms, he was very consistent, but he’d never moved the kind of units Eminem or even Nelly did. In terms of acclaim, he’d had perhaps four albums that could be considered classics, none of which had quite reached the level of namedrop ubiquity of an Illmatic, a Ready to Die, a 36 Chambers. He’d dropped a number of albums where the clunkers threatened to overwhelm the bangers, and his 2002 stab at a magisterial double-album landmark (The Blueprint²) had barely moved the needle. Most people didn’t even think he’d won the war of diss-tracks he’d started with Nas. (He did though.) And yet, if you were there at the time, something made it hard not to take him at his word when he said (with ever-increasing frequency) that he was the greatest to ever do it.

Despite his “Takeover” claim of having only been in the game five years, Jay’d been on the fringes of the rap biz since the late ‘80s, a time when every rapper worth his salt wanted to crown himself king. By the late ‘90s, most major label emcees were more concerned with shoring up their street bona fides and stacking up cash than claiming lyrical supremacy, and Hov was happy to play that tune too. He got the hits, money, and connections, but despite his hyper-capitalist hood mogul outlook, he still wanted the prize he’d grown up watching Kane, Rakim, and Kool Moe Dee fight over. Once Biggie died, a lane to that throne opened up, and Jigga bent all of his will toward snatching it.

The Blueprint isn’t Jay’s audition for the title of Best Rapper Alive. It’s his assumption of it. He posits that greatness and success are synonymous, and Success is Jay-Z’s whole brand. The album is his demonstration of what Success means in rap: having the hottest, most timeless beats; your own label, your own clothing line; spitting the slickest braggadocio; being the smartest, most ruthless guy in the room. When he takes down his rivals, he knocks their heights, bank accounts, and degree of apparent washedness, but most of all it’s their lack of savvy he zeroes in on, how he’s made himself an emperor while they’re still wannabe thugs squabbling over pop corners. Even when those shots prompt a contender as fearsome as Nas to fire back with his hottest record in years, the simple truths Jigga lays out remain uncontested: Who has more money? Who has more hits? Who sounds more like a boss?

Jay understood as no other rapper of his time did that being considered the G.O.A.T. is a matter of perception, not statistics. Arguing against his claim to greatness while The Blueprint’s rolling feels like arguing water isn’t wet or Warren Buffett isn’t wealthy. Track by track he makes his case, drawing together threads from golden age rap and the vintage soul that inspired it until the story of hip-hop itself starts to seem like it was always bound to culminate with Jay-Z. (A fiction he’d continue to promulgate over the years.) The portions of the record helmed by Kanye West, Just Blaze, and Bink! are as pure a distillation of what makes rap great as you’ll find, but even the less critically acclaimed tracks (“Jigga That Nigga”; “Hola Hovito”) find him flexing his command over a pop realm where neither Nas nor Mobb Deep ever seemed truly comfortable.

The only time Jay ever seems remotely out of his element, “Renegade,” comes down to battlefield exigencies: scoring an Eminem feature amounted to a huge coup, but by 2001 Marshall was already becoming a creature of habit. He wasn’t going to be coaxed onto Jay’s turf, where he might’ve had to adapt his whiz kid white boy flow to the soulful lushness of The Blueprint’s other productions. In order to get his man, Jay has to make do with one of Eminem’s own thin, battle rap-friendly beats. Hov acquits himself well, but it’s unquestionable that Shady steals the show. Though Eminem’s career-best verses add to the album’s embarrassment of riches, it's revealing of Jay’s mentality that even on an album intended to position himself as the Best, he was still willing to kiss the ring of rap’s real kingpin for the extra 200 or 300,000 in sales Shady’s name guaranteed.

I didn’t expect to write so much about business when it came to covering one of my three or four favourite rap albums of all-time, but both on record and as a public person Hov frequently compels you to: it’s the frame of reference he’s most confident with. You can’t really put the dollars and cents aside with him. Despite that, The Blueprint is a one-of-a-kind document of the man’s genius for rhyme, his ear for great music, and his ambition to make everyone in the world give a damn about Shawn Carter. Its very success is what makes it his masterpiece.

296/365

[notladylikes]

creaming matches between her mama and daddy were becomin’ something of a regular occurrence now and again. rebekah put on a pair of headphones, tried to drown out the noise, but the vibrations were another story entirely. things being thrown around had her jumping out of her skin, nerves set alight and on edge. she buried her head underneath the pillow, tears stinging in the corner of her eyes. it wasn’t like this before, never used to be like this.

she slips out of the back door of the trailer, starts walking. it’s dangerous to be out at night alone, but she doesn’t care, much rather end up on a stranger’s path than the one of destruction of her family. fisting away lingering tears, she sniffles, shoving her hands into her pockets. fingers gently press into the blade she carries for protection, a pocket knife she stole from her father.

he still doesn’t know she has it, and if he did, boy would he tan her hide somethin’ fierce for her taking it. doesn’t matter if the thing that she needs protecting from in the past few years is him.

rebekah’s been the problem child since day one. can’t count how many times she’s snuck out - most of the time just to be alone with her own damn thoughts.

this time though, she’s got purpose behind the stride, and she makes her way a mile or two til she’s just shy of the silt stone ranch. backpack on her back, she makes her way to the front door and gives it a knock. she knows that it’s late, but colton’d be up - he always seems to know when she’s coming.

the screen door creaks when it opens.

“can i stay here tonight?” she asks, and before she knows it she’s being ushered in, the couch is being fixed up and for the first time all night, she feels safe.

it’s not four months later when she runs away for good and seeks out the marshall ranch for a place of solace. and just like always, colton grants her that favor, asks for nothing in return. he’s always been there to lend a helping hand, and she can’t imagine going through life without him.

one day she’ll work hard to repay him for all the kindness he’s shown her over the years. she’s gonna make sure of it.

[twinterrors29]

once the dust finishes settling on Mandalore, Bo-Katan gets word of the annihilation of the Jedi by the GAR

she’s immediately concerned about what happened to Ahsoka, no longer a Jedi, who would have been either still on her way back to Coruscant on a Venator full of clone troops, or already arrived, where there would have been even more threats, but can find no official confirmation of her status

(not to mention, she was transporting MAUL, one of the more serious threats to Bo-Katan’s fledgling government, and he’s not officially accounted for either)

so she sends her nephew Korkie out into the galaxy for his first solo hunt, asking him to bring back word of what happened to their ally (his friend, who taught him why it’s so important to pay attention to your government, to search for corruption like what’s taken over her people’s Senate)

since it’s hardly safe to be openly seeking Jedi, he conceals his search by claiming to be looking for Commander Rex, who was last seen boarding the Tribunal at Ahsoka’s side

however, no matter how much he scours the military records he can get his hands on (both legally and, well, less-than-legally), he can find no sign of Ahsoka or Rex, but there are some vague references to a missing ship, a Venator, that had apparently been containing very dangerous cargo

although he was far from discouraged, Korkie knew he would have to try something a bit more extreme if he wanted to get answers:

he’ll need help from a high-ranking Imperial officer

he spends some time considering his options, researching who has the most access to this sort of intel, who’s least likely to be missed right away, and stumbles upon CC-2224, who Aunt Satine once mentioned working with during her trip to testify before the Senate

not only is this someone familiar to his family, but this former GAR Marshal Commander was also supposedly working closely on that assignment with then-Captain Rex, he’d be sure to have the best intel on what happened to the Tribunal and those on board!

Korkie starts by trying to just walk up and ask him for help, but Cody keeps trying to arrest him for ‘being in restricted areas’ and ‘asking about classified information’

so Korkie improvises!

knocks him out! drags him back to Mandalore, where Aunt Bo-Katan can help interrogate him!

at first, they think that Korkie accidentally hit him too hard and damaged his brain, because all he seems to be able to say is ‘good soldiers follow orders’, but when their medics do a brain scan to locate the damage, they instead find a suspicious-looking tumor, which they immediately operate on

so now Korkie has a dechipped and pissed-at-the-Empire Commander Cody, who remembers all-too-clearly everything he’s done in the past few months, but who also has no clue what happened to Rex and Ahsoka, just that the Tribunal went dark right after Order 66 went out, and never made it to Coruscant

they search intermittently for years, but they find no further leads until almost two decades later that the new Mand’alor, Sabine Wren’s alliance with the Rebellion brings Korkie and Cody into contact with a pair of very familiar intelligence agents from the Fulcrum Network, who are shocked but only too glad to be reunited their long-lost friend and brother

[beckyh2112]

when I call myself a shell I mean- (1/3?)

Fix, Pup, and Thunder belong to @one-real-imonkey and are used with permission. Everyone else is either canon or one of my own OCs.

You can and should blame @commander-codys for this being typed up.

tw: suicidal ideation in the last scene.

Behind a cut for length.

---

The war was over. The Chancellor was a Sith lord who had been playing both sides.

Not that anyone had told Fox that until after he'd broken into the Chancellor's office, ready to shoot Generals Kenobi and Vos for assassinating the man. ("I am dreadfully sorry, Commander, but we couldn't trust that Palpatine wouldn't learn of our plan through you.")

For the first time since the war began, all of the surviving commander and marshal-commander CCs were in one place. Thorn had cajoled Fox into coming to the party, an edge of desperation in his cheerfulness turning it forced. The war was over. The Chancellor was dead. They could reconnect.

"Suprised you didn't notice your boss was a Sith."

I did, Fox still couldn't tell them. Why do you think I have Sith sigils scored into the insides of my thighs? Why do you think Thorn's knotwork tattoo goes around his throat?

He knocked back his drink and tried to feel like he was with people he trusted.

-

"I'm so glad you're safe, vod'ika."

Pup leaned into his ori'vod's embrace. Thunder had always made him feel safe. Even when he'd just been-- been reassigned and Thunder hadn't chosen himself a name yet.

It had been a long, long time since he'd felt this safe. No matter what the vode in the Guard did, nothing could ever make Coruscant safe for them. The natborns had taught them that lesson, and vode learned their lessons fast.

"You didn't mention your vod'ika was such a runt," one of Thunder's squadmates said. "Good thing you got sent to the Corries, kid. You wouldn't have lasted on the front."

Pup stiffened, knew Thunder felt it. He heard his ori'vod snap something at the other trooper while he just curled himself closer to Thunder.

I wasn't safe, Pup wanted to tell them. I was tortured and maimed, and I had to thank my torturer for being merciful. But the words got stuck in his throat, in a way he hadn't felt since Kamino. They blocked all his other words about how glad he was to see Thunder alive and well.

-

Commander Azure ("for your eyes?" - every karking natborn alive) only had so much tolerance for listening to other ship captains talk about the battles they'd been in or bemoan the stupid things their groundpounders did to amuse themselves between mission.

He'd worked so damn hard to show the longnecks his mutation was purely cosmetic. He'd topped every class, beat every simulator, set a few records with atmospheric smallcraft. He'd been one of the best of the vode selected to command a venator. Everyone expected he'd wind up flag captain under a Jedi High General.

It had all been a waste of time. Coruscant was the heart of the Republic, and the heart of the Republic couldn't fall. So the best vode had to go to Home Fleet or the Coruscant Guard. So Azure wound up flag-captain under a natborn admiral who didn't know his arse from a hole in the ground.

He'd never even gotten a fight, unlike some of the captains attached to his command. The admiral couldn't be bothered with "ferrying Jedi nuisances", so diplomatic attempts like taking General Yoda to meet with the Toydarian king were assigned to his subordinates.

He should be grateful, he knew. His crew was virtually the same one he'd had at the beginning of the war. He'd never even lost starfighter pilots.

Instead he was resentful. All his misery as a cadet had just gotten him more misery.

So Azure only had so much tolerance for listening to other ship captains before he had to excuse himself. He wasn't going to pick a fight just because everything they said felt like another twist of the knife.

-

Hound had liked animals better than people even before he was assigned to the Coruscant Guard. Then the war killed all the people he liked outside the Guard. (His favorite squadmate died on Geonosis. His second favorite squadmate got promoted and died on Ryloth. His third favorite was assigned to Pong Krell's battalion.)

By the end of the first year of the war, there was no one left in the GAR who cared about him the way the other Corries did.

-

Jazz walked into medbay for his shift and stopped dead. "Why the fuck are all these GAR in my medbay?"

"Jazz," Fix, the Guard CMO, called warningly.

"Why the fuck are all these GAR in Fix's medbay?"

He'd known there was a metric shit-ton of GAR on Coruscant because of the end of the war. He'd been doing his level-best to avoid them; it helped that he pretty much never got assigned off-base and definitely never got assigned to deal with 79s.

"Anti-Jedi protest got out of hand," Dee, one of the junior medics, said disgustedly. "These idiots couldn't resist starting a brawl, then put up a fight when Thorn's riot troopers came down on their heads. You know. Like morons."

"You didn't hear what they were saying about the Jedi-" the GAR trooper under his scanner started to say before Dee interrupted him.

"Didn't hear it and don't care about it. They're civvies. You're not."

"Shabuire," another GAR trooper hissed, this one waiting for a free medic to patch him up. "What, you suck so much natborn cock-"

Jazz knew the fucker just meant it as a general insult. He knew the front-liner didn't realized he'd walked straight onto a land-mine.

He didn't care, either. Jazz had held together too many vod'ike forced to do exactly that. Because they were clones, they weren't people, they had to do what they were told. And the Guard didn't even fight the Separatists; they had to earn their keep somehow. (Fix couldn't prove Jazz had murdered that particular natborn. He didn't need to, either. He knew what his senior medics were like.)

Jazz pinched the idiot's earlobe and dragged him towards an exam table. "Your turn to get treated, fuckface."

"Ow, ow, motherfucker, let go!"

-

"They want to stay on Coruscant?" Thire said dumbly.

"They want to join the Jedi," Stone corrected. "Same end result."

Thire felt sick. He'd thought that with the war ended- Well, he didn't know what he had thought would happen.

Not staying on Coruscant, for one thing.

He was five seconds away from a panic attack, and he knew it. But he couldn't stay on Coruscant a day longer than it took to fulfill his duty to the Guard. (The day Palpatine died had nearly shattered the Guard. Not because they'd liked the Chancellor, but because of how brutally it had revealed that he was mind-controlling them. So many Guards found themselves on the edge of suicide from the physical, mental, and emotional abuse they had suffered, when the day before they had been merely miserable.

Turned out the Sith had been keeping their morale up.)

There was a way out of this. He just had to figure it out.

Most of the Jedi High Council had GAR commanders. But Master Yoda didn't. And he'd shown a marked preference for working with Thire after that first mission together.

Master Yoda had a lot of sway with the Jedi. Maybe if he asked nicely, Master Yoda would let the Guard not stay on Coruscant. They could be attached to one of the service corps; if Thire remembered that discussion about the Jedi as an organization with Jek and Rhys correctly, both the ExplorCorps and the EduCorps could probably use highly-trained soldiers to protect them.

He managed to explain that to Stone without sending himself into a panic attack. Score.

"Don't waste your influence with him," Stone advised. "Master Yoda isn't the Chancellor. He can't override the entire rest of the Jedi High Council. The GAR is going to want to stay with their Jedi, and their Jedi are attached to the Temple. If we're lucky, we'll get attached to the Temple too."

"If we're lucky?"

"They could leave us where we are. We're effective."

"I'd eat my blaster," Thire said bluntly. "If we're never getting out of this post, then I'll make sure I get out of it."

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.4

Summary: Penny is going to see her professor for the first time again after they kissed.

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 5.1k

Warnings: Thunderstorms (?)

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

The next day it’s time for my criminology class, the first one I’ll have after our kiss. I haven’t spoken to Walter since the kiss, because a) it was literally yesterday and b) after I told him I was going to bed, I actually went to bed and fell asleep.

To make matters even worse, our meeting isn’t even gonna be in a private setting.

It’s in lecture hall setting.

Despite me falling asleep not long after I arrived home, I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back to sleep. Since I was hungry, I decided to have some late night snacks, but I am incapable of eating normally, because I totally spilled some sauce on Walter’s sweater.

In other words: I had a little early morning laundry moment.

With Walter’s sweater neatly folded in my backpack, I take a deep breath for some encouragement, as I walk into the lecture hall. There are already around ten other students in their seats and Walter sits on the edge of his table, as he reads through his notes. He looks up, but his expression barely changes. Emphasis on barely. There is a slight shift in his eyes, but it’s hardly noticeable if you don’t know him that well. ‘Morning, miss Townsend.’

Like nothing ever happened between us.

‘Good morning, sir,’ I say, before walking up to my assigned seat. I should not let out a sigh of relief, but I still do. I tell myself I shouldn’t be this nervous, however it’s an impossible task. My leg moves up and down in a restless pace and my jaw is painfully clenched.

I try my best, but it is out of question to focus on the entire class. Thankfully, Walter must’ve noticed that my brain is everywhere but in this class, because he doesn’t call out my name once. For the first time in forever I don’t have any questions about the assignment, so when a few other students hang around after class, I manage to sneak passed them and make my way to the library.

My brain really is malfunctioning, because I keep staring at my screen, unable to do anything slightly productive. I look into my backpack, to see Walter’s sweater. About an hour has passed and maybe… Maybe I could bring it to him now?

I grab my phone and decide to just send him a text. I can take the first step after yesterday, right? I’m a big girl.

Me: Can I come over to your office now?

I don’t get an answer straight away, which is only fueling up the doubt that has been brewing inside my heart. Not quite the big girl after all.

What if he thought this was a mistake? Oh shit, the kiss was terrible, he hated it and I should therefore never ever kiss again!

My breathing stops when I see his answer.

Walter: Of course, princess 💕

I swallow hard. This is a good sign, right? The heart emoji and the nickname that led me to internally screaming all night indicate he didn’t think the kiss was terrible, what we did wasn’t a mistake and that we should totally kiss again.

Right?

The hallways are empty, as a lot of people are already back at their dorms due to the bad weather that is forecasted for later today. Normally, I would do the same, but I think I lingered around campus, so I had a chance of talking to Walter. I walk towards his office and knock on his door. I hear a deep and annoyed: ‘Come in’ and I take it as my cue to open the door.

‘Hello,’ I say, ‘you sure I can come in?’

He looks up from his desk and smiles. Small crowfeet appearing near the corners of his eyes, a tiny bit of evidence that he is genuinely happy to see me. ‘Of course Penny,’ he says, standing up from his seat. He walks towards the corner of his office, lifting some stuff up,  to reveal a chair. He places it on the other side of his desk. ‘Please, take a seat,’ he says, holding out his hand.

All of this trouble for me? ‘I wasn’t planning on staying long.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he says, waiting for me to take place on the chair and I quickly do so. When he sits on his own chair again, he asks: ‘How are you?’

That’s such a sweet and darling question of him. ‘I’m okay. I just came by to give you your sweater back.’ I pull it out of my bag and say: ‘Thank you for lending it to me.’

He nods. ‘Of course.’

‘I washed it,’ I add, ‘since I kinda dropped some hot sauce on it. I hope you like my laundry detergent.’

I hand it over the table to him and he presses his nose against the fabric. ‘It smells great, thanks.’

I smile at him, since I can’t really stop it. He is so different around me, then he is when he’s a professor. There is no annoyance, no boredom. Only adoration if I’m correct. It feels good to be on the receiving end of it. ‘That was all actually. For once I don’t have questions.’

‘I see,’ Walter says. ‘You got a lot of work to do?’

I shake my head. ‘No, not really. Just your class.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Anyways, I should go. I have a few things I have to pick up from the grocery store anyway. Forgot some things yesterday,’ I say.

Walter nods. ‘Of course.’ While I said I should go, I can’t seem to stand up. Walter tilts his head and asks: ‘What’s wrong, princess?’

‘Nothing,’ I whisper.

‘Is it… The kiss?’ he carefully asks. ‘Because if it is, I have to apologize. I was crossing multiple lines with that.’

I shake my head. ‘No, Walter, don’t worry about it. I enjoyed it. It’s just… It was my first kiss.’

His eyes enlarge, nearly rolling out of his sockets. The surprised emotion is one I haven’t seen with him in real life. I actually thought nothing could startle him. ‘Your first kiss?’ he repeats. A few seconds pass by slowly as he runs his fingers through his disheveled curls. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

I shrug again. ‘I don’t know. It didn’t seem relevant.’

He sighs. ‘I’m so sorry, princess.’

‘There is nothing to worry about. If it makes you feel any better, I’m glad this was my first kiss.’

He leans back in his seat. ‘Penelope Townsend,’ he says, with a slight smile on his lips. ‘You’re quite something.’

Oh shit, he uses my full name. That… That can’t be good, right? Panic is taking over and I quickly say: ‘I really have to go.’ I grab my backpack and shoot out of his little office space, not even waiting for him to say something.

My brain is fried.

On autopilot, I managed to find my way to the grocery store, where I buy more instant noodles. I don’t know why, but I even grab some hair products for Walter. It’s getting ridiculous that I’m actually going to buy this, but on the other hand, he told me I could help him out with those slightly dry locks of his.

I spend little to no time in my dorm, because I am unable to stop thinking about Walter. I shouldn’t have left like that, I think to myself. He now must think I don’t like him, when in reality: I like him a lot.

As I am pacing through the room, nearly ripping out my hair out of pure frustration, I hear the rain against the window. It’s mild,  especially if you compare it to the forecasted weather. I check my weather app and realize that with this type thunderstorm, I really don’t want to be alone here.

Without even thinking about the pros and cons of this plan, I pack some stuff I need and when I walk outside, the bus to his place is thankfully already there. The clouds are turning a darker shade of grey, as I’m hopelessly walking around the block after I got off the bus. My sense of direction is severely lacking and it takes me awhile before I even see his building.

It starts to pour and I turn into a shivering mess. By the time I’m at his door and knocked on it, I realize that I should’ve called.

This, Penelope Townsend, was a very poorly thought out plan. This is terribly rude and there is no turning back now. Oh no, what if he thinks that—

‘Hey,’ Walter says when he opens the door and smiles as he notices it’s me. ‘What are you doing here, princess?’

He doesn’t seem mad, that is a good sign. ‘I am terribly sorry, Walter, I really shouldn’t be here. I don’t know why I’m here even. Okay, I do know, because I don’t want to be alone with this weather, but I should’ve at least called you. I mean, you probably aren’t even in the mood to deal with me, which is totally understandable. I’m so sorry, please forget this ever happened and I’ll just go.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he says, holding my wrist tightly in his large hand, not allowing me to leave. ‘Come in.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m very sure. They say it’s gonna be shitty weather anyway and I’d hate if you had to go back. Besides, you’re soaking wet.’

‘You really sure I’m not bothering you?’ I ask, as he gently pulls me inside, still unsure whether or not I’m welcome.

‘Positive.’ He helps me out of my coat and tells me I can change in the bathroom. He grabs some of his own clothing and hands it to me. ‘Now, I’m gonna tidy up in here a bit,’ he says, ‘because I left some crime scene pictures around.’

I smile as I grab the clothing. ‘I should’ve called,’ I try to sort of apologize again, but he is having none of it.

‘Nonsense,’ he says, ‘you don’t have to call. You are always welcome here.’ He places his hand on my cheek, before pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. ‘Besides, I’m glad you’re here. I kinda missed you.’

I let out a chuckle. ‘Walter, I’m sorry I left your office. I was freaking out.’

‘I know,’ he says. Of course he knew. ‘It’s okay, Penny.’

‘It is?’

He nods. ‘Now get changed, you’re freezing.’

✎ ✎ ✎

After I changed into some of his clothing and hung my own clothes over the heater, I walk back into the living room, only to see him preparing some dinner in the kitchen.

That is such a domestic move.

‘Thank you for letting me stay here,’ I say, causing him to look over his shoulder. ‘I’m not great with this kind of weather.’

‘Figured,’ he chuckles. ‘You’re afraid?’

‘No,’ I answer, as I walk up to the counter. ‘Absolutely not.’ Almost on cue, a loud bang of thunder fills the room, causing me to yelp. ‘Okay, maybe a little.’

Walter starts to laugh. When I’m within arm reach of him, he lifts me up on the counter like I weigh nothing to him. ‘Sit still and be pretty, okay?’

I frown. ‘How am I supposed to be pretty?’

‘By being yourself,’ he says, ‘and smile at me from time to time. Seems doable, right?’

‘I can try,’ I say, a smile already appearing on my face. ‘What are you making?’

‘Some pasta,’ he answers. ‘You like that?’

‘I do,’ I say, pushing my glasses better on my nose. ‘I really do. Especially when someone else makes it. Don’t you have that, when someone else makes the food, it automatically tastes better?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, I don’t.’

Leave it to him to be an exception. ‘Why not?’

‘I like making my own food,’ he says.

‘Hm.’ I lean my head back against the cupboard. ‘I really can’t cook well,’ I admit. ‘My mom was always the one that would make my meals back home. I’m a disaster in the kitchen, hence the reason I live on ramen, which I can easily screw up as well.’

Walter smiles, placing one hand on my leg, as he holds a wooden spoon to stir the sauce. ‘Here, taste this,’ he says, grabbing a string of pasta and blows on it so it can cool off a bit. He brings it to my lips and it’s such an automatic move to place my hand on his wrist.

‘It’s good,’ I say.

‘I’ll grab a plate for you. How about you get comfortable on the couch?’

I jump off the counter and walk towards the living room area. His couch looks kinda dull, in a beige tint that reminds me of my grandma’s wardrobe, but don’t be fooled: it’s the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on. I grab a blanket and place it over my lap.

Walter joins me, handing me the plate with pasta and sits next to me. It only takes a second, before I flinch as the thunder is now accompanied by lighting. ‘You’re so easily scared,’ he snickers. Without me doing it on purpose, I scoot closer to him. I know he cannot  psychically protect me against it, but not being alone with weather like this, is a relief itself. ‘Careful, princess,’ he says, ‘it’s hot.’

As we eat in silence, I keep thinking about what I can say to him. ‘I brought some hair stuff with me,’ I say. ‘Bought some today.’

‘For me?’

I nod. ‘For you,’ I confirm. ‘Maybe you want to use it.’

‘Or you use it on me,’ he says. ‘I have no idea what I’m doing anyway.’

As I finish the pasta (which was delicious), he takes the plate from my hands and places it on the coffee table next to his own empty plate. ‘Come here,’ he says, pulling me closer in his warm and protective arms.

I wonder whether or not it’s odd that I’m this comfortable with him this soon. I usually have a warm up period of at least a few weeks when I meet new people. When I worked in a cafe back in Japan during my gap year, it took me a month before I wasn’t painfully shy with some of my coworkers.

But with Walter, I am still shy and sometimes a bit awkward, but it doesn’t feel unpleasant. It’s like he understands and is patient with me.

I place my legs over his and hold his hand in both of mine. My fingers trace over his knuckles, where I notice some slight scarring. ‘How did you get this one?’

‘Bar fight,’ he says, ‘before I joined the academy.’

‘You were that type of guy?’

Walter doesn’t say anything and when I look up, I see he is not even looking at me. He is staring at the window. ‘Yeah, something like that. In case you wondered: he kinda asked for it.’

There is so much I want to ask him. What he was like when he grew up. What he thought of the academy. Interesting cases he solved.

However, a loud bang brutally interrupts my thoughts. At the exact same time, the lights shut off. My breathing stops. Oh no, a power cut? I’m so glad I’m not in my dorm alone. I might’ve called Walter crying, ask him to risk his life so he could pick me up.

Good thing I’m already here.

‘Great,’ he mumbles, turning on the flashlight on his phone. ‘There isn’t much I can do,’ he says, ‘except wait for it to come back. You want me to light some candles?’

I hate the dark this much, that I quickly say” ‘Please.’

He stands up, but I hold on tightly to his hand. ‘What’s wrong, princess?’

‘Can I walk with you?’

‘Of course.’ His fingers lace through mine and together we walk around his loft, looking for the candles and a lighter. We scatter them around the apartment and it gives a soft  and warm ambiance, one that is slightly misplaced here in his loft. I can unclench my jaw from the painful grip and Walter pulls me back on the couch.

‘Did you feel awkward?’ I ask him. ‘In class today?’

He shakes his head. ‘But I know you did.’

I purse my lips together, as I feel completely caught. ‘Was I that obvious?’

‘Not to others, but to me you were.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t apologize for that. I just wished I knew what I could do for you to feel less awkward about it.’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Never thought my first… Whatever we have, would have to be in secret.’

He sighs, clearly agreeing with me. ‘I wish I could show you off,’ he says. ‘Wish I could tell Fitzgerald to stop ogling you.’

‘He doesn’t do that,’ I say.

Walter scoffs. ‘He totally does. It’s not even subtle anymore.’

I place my head against his chest, melting in his arms. I close my eyes, as I enjoy being engulfed in the warmness and protectiveness of his embrace.

No one has ever held me like this before.

‘Walter, why me?’

‘What?’ he asks.

‘Why are you even paying attention to me? I’m such a nobody.’

‘You’re not a nobody,’ Walter retorts. ‘I like you, Penny. You have an ethereal beauty, combined with an adorable and kind nature. It’s so rare to meet someone like you. I see that there is so much potential in you, no matter what you choose later on in life. It’s just that you don’t know it yet, which is such a shame really. Besides, princess, I’m not risking my job for simply anyone.’

As much as him being my professor should turn me away from it all, should make me walk towards the door and not associate myself with him anymore, I don’t feel that way. Part of me wants to hide my smile, but I can’t. ‘I kinda like you too.’

‘Just kinda?’ he asks, pretending to be offended. ‘What can I do to change that?’

I smile. ‘Kiss me again.’

He doesn’t answer, simply leaning towards me to press his soft lips on mine. One of hands squeezes my thigh, as I wrap my arms around his neck. It feels so good to kiss him. ‘Can’t believe yesterday was your first kiss,’ he whispers against my lips. ‘You’re quite talented, princess.’

‘I just follow your lead. I think that says more about your kissing skills than mine.’

‘Knew you were an excellent student.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The lights aren’t restored by the time I grow more and more tired. It’s Walter actually that tells me to go to bed. When I’m tucked away underneath the blankets in just his thick sweater, he sits on the edge of the bed. ‘I want you to be honest,’ he says in a stern voice. ‘Do you want me to sleep here or on the couch?’

It’s a sweet thing of him to ask, especially since it did cross my mind a few times. I grab his hand, my thumb caressing his knuckles. ‘I don’t know,’ I whisper.

‘Why are you hesitating?’

‘Because… I don’t want you to think I’m a prude or anything.’

He smiles. ‘Princess, I can sleep on the couch. Don’t worry.’

I blink my eyes a few times, slightly nervous. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘Of course not. Just call for me when you need me, okay?’

‘Okay.’

He gives me a quick and loving kiss on my lips. Checking with me one last time, he carefully makes his way back to the living room. While I can hear him making himself comfortable on the couch, I roll around the bed. There is an inability of mine to fall asleep, something I barely encounter. There is this annoying, but also terrifying ticking like sound  against the window and I can’t wrap my mind around it what exactly makes that noise.

The thunder and lightening are dominating the skies and my state of mind.

‘Walter?’ I finally ask him, after rolling around, being all ears and incapable of falling asleep for at least an hour. It takes only a few seconds before he walks into the bedroom. His hair is disheveled and he looks like a sleepy owl in a cartoon. It’s adorable, a word I never expected to use to describe him.

‘What’s wrong, princess?’ he asks me.

‘What is that noise?’

‘Just the water and a branch. It usually taps against the window from time to time.’

‘Oh, okay,’ I whisper. ‘Sorry to wake you.’

‘Don’t be,’ he says. He leans against the doorframe. Despite it being dark, I can still see the contours of his large body. ‘You seem wide awake.’

‘I am,’ I admit. ‘It’s just that I can’t sleep. There is too much noise here I don’t know.’

‘Want me to join you?’

I nod, only to realize he might not be able to see it. ‘Please.’

He walks over to the bed and gets in underneath the covers. I can already feel his warm body heat closer to mine and I hold my breath. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Walter chuckles. ‘It’s just me.’

I can’t stop being “ridiculous”. I mean, I am completely overstepping all sorts of boundaries. I mean, I’m in my professors loft. The same professor who I kissed. Whose clothes I’m wearing.

Who I’m severely falling for.

Walter holds out his arm and I turn to my side, nuzzling against his warm frame. He only wears a simple shirt and a pair of boxers. ‘Why are you shivering?’

‘I’m a little scared.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s just all those new sounds and a different bed,’ I mumble. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You have nothing to worry about,’ he says. I place my chin on his chest. As my eyes get used the dark, I can sort of see more of his face. I don’t have my glasses on, so it stay slightly blurry. ‘Nothing is gonna happen to you now, princess,’ he continues to say. ‘Not when I’m here.’

I smile. ‘I know,’ I say. ‘It’s just all so new to me.’

‘Yet you adapt perfectly fine.’

I bite my bottom lip. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He places his hand on my cheek and leans a bit forward, planting a soft kiss on my lips. It’s not my plan to deepen the kiss, but when someone’s lips taste this good, of course I don’t mind deepening it. His teeth slowly sink into my bottom lip, careful not to hurt me.

When he lets go of me, his hot breath tickles my already sensitive lips. Walter presses a kiss on my nose and whispers: ‘Go to sleep, princess. You seem tired.’

‘I am,’ I chuckle. ‘Quite the detective you are.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The next morning when I wake up, I’m still engulfed in Walter’s arms. He looks so innocent and vulnerable when he sleeps. His hand has slipped underneath my shirt, his warm palm on my back. For a second, my mind wanders to a time where it’s more than this. More than just a hand on my bare back.

It’s about him seeing me naked, him touching me and whispering sweet nothings in my ears.

It doesn’t take long for Walter to wake up as well and he smiles when he sees I’m already up. ‘I don’t mind waking up like this,’ he admits. ‘Seeing your beautiful face first thing in the morning is a lovely surprise.’

Don’t blush, Penny. Don’t you dare blush.

‘Give me a kiss, princess,’ he says.

‘I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,’ I mumble.

‘Doesn’t matter to me.’ He leans in to give me a gentle peck on my lips, followed by a few more. I giggle against him, as his fingers softly—and probably unintentionally—tickle my sides. ‘I’ll go see if the power is back on,’ he says. ‘Want something to eat?’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Doesn’t really matter what.’

Walter kisses me one more time, before he gets up out of bed. It doesn’t take long before I slip out of the bed as well, putting on some socks and sweatpants.

This morning is the prime example of how a domestic couple behaves. I always envied my parents, for being able to find the love of their lives, living according to a certain routine with one another. I remember sitting at the dinner table, watching them dancing in the kitchen as mom would make dinner. I remember sitting in the backseat, hearing my parents sing along with the radio.

They have always been outgoing people, in complete contrast to me. Mom always comforted me telling me that one day I would find my soulmate. Dad always told me that the so called soulmate had to be approved by him.

I wonder what would happen if they found out I met Walter. It’s way too early to think about that, but my brain isn’t stopping this thought process. Especially when Walter lifts me up the counter. When he presses mindless kisses on my forehead. When he lets me use some of the products on his hair. He smiles when I massage his scalp as I’m washing his hair over the stink and use the conditioner on his dry hair.

It’s great to see Walter with his guard a bit down. Allowing me to see who he is hiding when he’s teaching and maybe when he was at work as a detective as well. His touches are soft, are kind and not once is he overstepping. He carefully reads me and my body language.

But at one point, I realize that it’s time for me to go back. My mom used to say to leave a party when it’s still fun, instead of waiting for the awkward moment where you are practically forced to leave after you overstayed.

With his curls nice dried and less frizzy, he drives me back towards the train station and the parking lot and the station itself are almost vacant. People are probably still hiding inside their houses, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of the storm yet.

‘I hate that I have to drop you off here,’ he admits. ‘You have to walk for a while. Wait, I have an idea, you call me as you walk towards your dorm. I’ll leave here when I know you’re safe and sound in your room, okay?’

‘You really don’t have to do that,’ I chuckle. ‘I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.’

‘I know that,’ he says, ‘but I care a little too much about you. I don’t want anything to happen, okay?’

It’s nice to be taken care of like this. I could get used to this. ‘Okay,’ I say, before I give him a kiss. ‘I’ll miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you too, princess.’ He pulls out his phone and says: ‘I’ll call you in a second.’

A second truly is a second, because my phone rings when I close the door. ‘Really?’ I ask him as I pick up the phone, still being able to see him.

‘Yes, really.’

I wave at him, as I walk towards the dormitory building, which is about a ten minute walk. ‘You have a cute walk,’ he says, when I’m out of sight for him. ‘There’s almost a little skip in it.’

‘Way to make me more self conscious than I already was.’

‘Ah, princess,’ he says, ‘don’t be like that. You have nothing to be self conscious about. You’re beautiful, you’re cute and you are the sweetest thing alive.’

‘Don’t say stuff like that. I’m blushing.’

I can hear his chuckles from the other side of the line. ‘Where are you now?’

‘I can see the dorms already. You really want me to call you until I’m in my room?’

‘Yes.’

I can’t argue with that determination. While I simply chat to him about the damage done by the storm, I see Fitzgerald near the entrance. Great, I really can’t use this now.

‘There she is,’ he says, when I open the door and walk passed him to get inside.

‘Is that who I think it is?’ Walter asks me.

‘Yes.’

‘He does that often?’

Correct me if I’m wrong, but he sounds kinda possessive. ‘Sometimes.’

‘Sugar plum,’ Fitzgerald says as he follows me inside. ‘I have a question for you.’

‘I’m on the phone,’ I tell him, hoping it’s enough for him to get lost. ‘Can’t really wait.’

It seems like he didn’t pick up on the underlying no in my answer. ‘Where have you been?’ Fitzgerald asks me.

My mouth grows dry. Does he know? Have Walter and I not been subtle enough? Oh my gosh, Fitzgerald totally knows. Do not start hyperventilate, stay calm, Penny. ‘Ask him if he’s stalking you,’ I hear Walter’s soft tone in my ear.

That seems doable. ‘You stalking me?’

He must be surprised that those words roll out of my mouth. I mean, I didn’t expect them from me either. ‘No, just wondering. Saw you getting on a bus after class.’

‘He really is stalking you,’ Walter says in my ear.

‘Sounds like you’re stalking me after all.’ Oh my goodness, Penny! What on earth is happening? I don’t know if I was supposed to repeat that.

Fitzgerald is flabbergasted to say the least and he actually walks away. Did I just do that? ‘He’s gone,’ I whisper.

‘That’s my girl,’ Walter chuckles. ‘Proud of you, princess. Asshole really doesn’t take no for an answer. I am tempted to fail him for my class.’

I start to laugh, as I make my way to my dorm. ‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘I hate his guts.’

‘Don’t use the word hate,’ I scold him. ‘Instead, use the word despise.’

‘Not with him, I won’t.’

I quickly walk up the stairs and let out a deep sigh when I’m back in my own dorm. ‘I arrived safe and sound in my room,’ I tell him. ‘Thank you for letting me stay over at your place. I really don’t do well in thunderstorms.’

‘Of course,’ he says, and I can almost hear the grin in his voice. ‘Can’t have you alone during a power cut. Also, it’s quite nice not to be alone.’

A certain vulnerability I was not expecting from him, let alone over the phone. ‘It sure was,’ I agree.

‘I’ll call you later,’ he tells me.

‘Alright, of course.’

‘Take care, princess.’

[funfickgirl22]

Night shift staff.

Walter Marshall x Reader

words: 630

warning: verbal abuse

You were working as a cleaner at the local police station. You wanted to have some extra hours, so your boss asked you to clean the detective department on Friday evenings. No one pays attention to you, or at least that's what you thought. You were invisible to most of the people, but not to Walter Marshall.  

Walter agreed to work on the night shift, as his insomnia was hitting him hard. He always preferred to be by himself until the moment he saw you. You had an incredibly warm smile and round rosy cheeks. Your eyes were so beautiful and yet tired, same as his own.  He was the only one who was greeting you and wished you a good evening in his team. He got shy every time he saw you walking past him.  

It was one of those weeks when the local police station worked on a difficult case, everyone was on it, tried to save as many people as possible. Walter was single for a while now, no one really took care of him. Sometimes he was hoping that you could be the one who is going to do for him

On one of the Friday nights, you knocked at the Marshall's office doors, wanted to clean up his office. There was no response, therefore you thought no one is there. When you had entered the room, you found Lieutenant sleeping on his chair with an open mouth. He looked adorable. You wanted to snuggle him. At the sofa next to his desk, there was a brown blanket, a gift from his daughter Fray. You took it and placed it on Walter, making sure he won’t get cold during his nap.  

You were not aware that he was awake. Walter had a closed eye. Your gesture warmed his heart. This girl will be mine – he thought and after that, he fell asleep again.  

Next Friday, Walter was excited to see you again. He was ready to ask you out, but you haven’t shown out. You took a day off to be able to go on a date. It was a blind date organized by your sister. You sat in the dinner, waiting for him to show up, regretting every lost moment. Your date has arrived 20 minutes late.  

In the meantime, Walter had decided to grab something to eat. The Lieutenant entered the same diner, where you had your date. Marshall ordered his meal, waited patiently in the queue. Everyone has heard someone raising their voice. Walter turned his head and noticed you at the edge of tears and your date shouting at you because you spilled your coffee. Walter has moved and within a second was next to your table, grabbing your date's collar. The detective showed him his police plate and ask him to leave immediately. Once this dude has left, Marshal sat down next to you and hugged you. It was so nice to be in his arms. After a few awkward moments, you thanked him.  

“Thank you, Sir, I am fine now.”  

“Don’t be silly, you know I am a Walter. This guy...do you know him.”  

“Well, he was my blind date. Doesn’t matter now. Thank you once again.”  

Walter had a soft spot for you, he didn’t want to see you, upset. He had an idea. 

“Would you mind having a meal with me? I don’t want to eat alone tonight, later I will take you home.”  

“Amm... I wouldn't mind that, actually.” You send Walter a shy smile.  

Next few hours you had a nice conversation with Walter. Once he drove you home, he officially asked you out. Of course, you agreed. Guess what, since then you were going on the dates all the time, but only with Walter Marshall.