#glad they still update when there’s holidays
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Calm Down
Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Black!Reader
Summary: Oscar has his own ways of calming his you down. (From this request 💖)
Word Count: ~1.5k words (I've been real lazy y'all so this is me eye balling it.)
Warning: Smut, p in v (unprotected, stay safe kids), fingering, teachnically thigh fucking, orgasm denial, Hard!Dom in a very Oscar way, mention of the FIA (we all need to be warned about that), some plot (enough for this to actually be a fic)
A/N: I'm still working my way through a few more pre-"closed request" fics, after this one I have 4 more. 🥳 I'm kinda glad I'm able to get this one out. It's to the lovely anon that requested it but also for another anon that would like more Oscar fics out there. I have my Oscar moments, and I guess you guys caught me in one. 🤭 Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Love you all!!💖💛💖💛
(P.S. Expect another headers update because these requests y'all have been sending in are😚🤌🏿)
Masterlist
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"No further investigation." This was the umpteenth time those words have plummeted from your mouth, now in quiet disbelief while you paced around Oscar's driver room when before it was being repeated by you as you first attempted to march your way towards the stewards office, but when that was thwarted by members of the McLaren team who were used to your reaction towards botched penalty calls, you tried to make your way to the Ferrari garage to just "have a talk" with the Spanish driver who pushed your boyfriend off the track, but Oscar was able to find you and promptly divert you to his room. "How could they be so stupid?"
"It's the FIA, I think they share a singular brain cell among them, and that brain cell is on holiday most of the time." Oscar spoke calmly as he undid his neck strap of his race suit and began to unzip it to expose his black fireproofs.
"How are you so fucking calm right now!? Carlos forced you off the track causung you to damage your front wing in which having to replace it during your fucking pit stop no doubt costed you third place!" The braids in your ponytail thrashed around as you erratically expressed your disdain for the unjust treatment your boyfriend was given during the race, and Oscar watched, mostly in admiration, but also slight annoyance. This wasn't the first time he has had to calm you down from such frustration.
"Because, there's nothing else we can do except go into the next race. Yeah, it sucks, but it's done." He shrugs his race suit off his shoulders and lets it gather around his waist while you scroll through Instagram, seeing the incident over and over again. You were like a bull seeing red.
"Nah, like, I just want to go talk to Carlos. It's like he has some weird hit out on you cause this is not the first time he's done this and I'm fucking tired of it." You push off of the massage table and head towards the door of the driver's room, but your wrist gets captured as you walk by Oscar, who gently guides you back to him.
"Yn, you need to calm down." He pulls you to him and wraps an arm around your lower back, his other hand fixing the askew braids in your ponytail. He was still a little damp but you something in your brain allowed you not to care too much about the sensation because he always looked little sexy with the messy sweaty hair and rouged cheeks and nose. A little sweat was worth it
"And what if I don't?" You squint, your insubordinace unphasing to Oscar as he finishes fixing up your ponytail.
"You know what happens, baby." A sweet grin makes its way onto his face but the hand that was previously in your hair grips your face, forcing you to look at him. "I make you." He gives you a quick peck on your forcibly puckered lips and then flips you so you were bent over the massage table, ass exposed to him. "You wore a skirt. You wanted this to happen you horny little minx."
"You're the only 22 year old I know that would use the word minx." You antagonize as Oscar makes quick work of flipping your skirt up, removing your underwear and pushing his race suit down letting it rest at his ankles, leaving him standing behind you starting to push down his underwear. "Ooo, I've made him mad now."
"No, no. I'm just used to you mouthing off. Especially when you're really horny, so..." He leans over to look at your face, your head resting on your hands and turned to the side, then finishes pushing his underwear down, releasing his dick which he almost automatically rubs between your pussy lips. "You're already so fucking wet, all from being a brat."
"And you're already hard because you like when I'm a brat, sweetheart." You wiggle your ass and move your hips backward, making Oscars dick slip between your sticky thighs again.
"Still so fucking mouthy." He grasps your hips for a moment to stop your hips from moving, then moves his hand to your lower back while he brings his cock to your entrance, pressing in and bottoming out in one fell swoop, forcing a loud moan from your chest. "Where's all that talk now, sweetheart?" He bends forward so he's speaking into your ear, then retracts his hips and thrust forward again.
"Os, fuck..." You let out sobbing whines with each thrust of Oscars hips, reaching out so you could grip the other side of the massage table.
"All you had to do was calm down love. But we both know you wanted this, hmm. Wanted me to fuck you quiet." Your legs were already getting weak, so Oscar had to adjust his grip at your hips, wrapping his right arm around your waist, the angle perfect for getting your clit. He doesn't put to much pressure, just allows the sticky slickness of your arousal to make it easy for his fingers to glance over the bundle of nerves. Even the slight touch sends a jolt through your body, making you gasp. "Look at you being a good girl for me now. Nice and quiet so no one hears. Wouldn't want anyone to know that your little act out there was just so you could get fucked senseless." All you could muster up was a moan as Oscar sped up the pace of his hips, he could go for hours, but he knew he had to make it to media obligations or else his absence would be suspicious. Lucky for him, despite your weak knees, you started to meet his thrusts, trying to get yourself to that proverbial edge that you could just taste.
"Can I cum, please?" You reach back to the hand that kept grazing your clit, guiding it to rub circles on it, having to move his hand a bit to get the optimum amount of leg shaking sensation.
"Only if your promise to be my perfect little girl from now on." He pulled his dick out of you and thrusts between your legs, the sensation of it rubbing on your clit making you whimper and giving him the wonderful visual of your cunt contracting around nothing.
"I'll be a good girl, I promise!" You were back to wiggling your ass, nonverbally begging for him to go back to fucking you. He looks up to check the analog clock on the wall.
"Okay, I'm gonna give you exactly one minute, but I'm only gonna use my fingers." You have a short tantrum while Oscar steps out of his race suit and pulls his underwear, then runs his fingers through your folds stopping your stomping feet. "I could just not give you a chance, I do have places to be..." He doesn't move and continues to run his hand over your cunt, but you took his threat to heart.
"No! Nooo, please, Os. Help me cum, please." He love to see you beg for him, especially when 99.9% of the time you were boisterous and confident and didn't take anyone's shit, which he loved, but little moments like this when he was in charge was the cherry on top of the relationship between you two.
"That's my girl." He brought his right hand that running along your cunt, now soaked in your juices, to your entrance, his middle and ring finger teasing you before pressing in, filling the emptiness his dick left. His left hand snaked back around your front to rub your clit. He did keep an eye on the clock, as he thrusted his fingers in you and rub your clit exactly where you guided his hand earlier, the sound of your muffled moans filling the small room, now that your face was down on your hands. Your hips gyrated in the air as you chased pleasure from Oscar's skillful fingers. But it was getting dangerously close to that one minute mark, and you still haven't came, and Oscar was serious about that time restraint.
"Ten, nine, eight, seven..." He counted down, fingers moving at a slightly faster speed, trying to help you reach your climax by "zero". Zero came, but you didn't, and you were left on the edge as Oscar removed his fingers from you, sucking your slick from them, and finished getting dressed to head to the media pit, ignoring your cries from being denied a surprisingly intense orgasm. "Sorry, hun. I'll help you when we get back to the hotel, okay?" He helps you up from the massage bed, smoothing your skirt down for you, adjusting your shirt and fixing your ponytail again before finishing off with a kiss to your pouted lips.
"Fine." You watch him do final checks on his own appearance before leaving his room, suddenly realizing your lack of underwear when you watch him stuff your panties in his pocket, becoming hyper aware of the stickiness between your thighs and the coolness of the air on your pussy. "Hey, wait. I can't go commando in a skirt."
"Exactly. You wouldn't dare go and try to fight anyone from Ferrari wearing a skirt and no underwear." He tips your chin up slightly and presses another long kiss to your lips. "I'll be back. Be a good girl, just like you promised." He taps your nose with his index finger and then turns to leave the room.
"Fuck you, Piastri." You cross your arms and lean against the massage table, a grin sneaking into your scowl.
"You already did, sweetheart." He rushes out the door and shuts it quickly to avoid the water bottle you chuck at him, both of you giggling like school children.
#formula 1#black reader#f1 imagines#formula 1 x black!reader#f1 x black!reader#request#oscar piastri x black!reader#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri smut#f1 smut#f1 imagine#f1 fic#oscar piastri x reader#f1 scenario
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KYALIN 📚 MASTERLIST (so I never lose it)
[last updated march 26th 2024]
[WORK IN PROGRESS]
- something tragic about you
- coriander and lilies
- soft landing
- never have I ever
- there’s something about you
- silent echoes
- like old times
- how this grace thing works
- and everything’s clear
- now that I’ve found you
- music to my ears
- one year (I can't quite find the words to explain how I feel)
- compassion
- it’s okay to take a break
- kyalin sketches and adventures (series)
- weigh me down, please lay me down
- the way to a woman’s heart (is through her stomach)
- on belay
- slumber party
- why’d she have to walk into mine?
- you don’t have to be alone
- brief reprieve
- the ember island tango
- every single broken heart (will lead you to the truth)
- tears
- dinner
- you had me at aloe
- wisdom, wisdom, where can I get some?
- let the rain fall (and wash your clean spirit)
- even breathing feels alright
- baby, you taste so rich
- disenchanted
- I will remember you, the way you are right now
- trust
- finally
- heated confessions
- did you know, that I see you?
- all and then most of you
- a healing sunrise
- sleep like a stone
- sunshine
- nows not the time
- let me have a look
- free day
- touch
- everybody talks
- we’ve got chemistry (I’ve got my ion you)
- tulips
- you should probably leave
- in losing you, I found me
- love is blind
- battle scars and buttercups
- the darkest night, the longest day
- hang on to what’s real
- carry you always
- you’re in my soul now
- imagine me and you
- hold me closer
- kinder words
- my heart is thrilled by the still of your hand
- red blanket nights
- honey, being around you is all I need
- I never did believe in miracles (but i’ve a feeling it’s time to try)
- attraction 101
- the person falling here is me
- a spark the pierce the dark
- merry christmas, lin beifong
- the kiss at ember island
- different scars
- dance partners
- bad dreams leave me when im with you
- one year (I can’t quite find the words to explain how I feel)
- five minutes to midnight
- kya’s idea
- emergency contact
- hit the back
- stay
- the chief takes a holiday (sequel to stay)
- an evening out
- softly and slowly
- the long way round
- is it too late (to come on home)
- drabble kyalin collection
- stolen flowers
- jealousy
- the cracked nut
- after the wedding
- im glad you’re staying
- you don’t look at me in the dark
- I was lost without you
- just go get her
- lucky number seven
- late bloomer
-patience
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[Preview - New fic]: Undiscovered.
Happy Klaine day everybody!
Of course I had to do something special today, for our boys, so here’s the preview of my upcoming fic Undiscovered, which will begin on Wednesday, April 3rd. This fic will only be available on AO3, so if you read my fics on FF.net, keep in mind that I won’t be updating there anymore.
Undiscovered is both a guilty pleasure and a self-indulgence. It was born out of an idea that @blog-carmex gave me what feels like a million years ago, and it kind of exploded from there. For a while it was nothing but PWP in my head, until the perfect plot came along. So, needless to say, this might be my spiciest fic to date.
It wouldn’t exist at all, though, without @blog-carmex, who planted the seed in my head; or without @nerdishedits, who not only made the beautiful teaser cover (and is working on the actual cover) but watered that damn seed until it grew into a monstrous plant that took over half my life; or without the always amazing @christinejaneanderson, who trims the leaves and tends to its wellbeing until it looks like the perfect little plant we all knew it could be. So thanks to you, ladies, for everything.
Without further ado, here’s the preview of the first chapter, and I hope I’ll see you all for a new adventure on April 3rd!
The only sound echoing in the dining room was the cutlery gently hitting the porcelain plates. The attempts to play music in the background had been rejected, like Christmas music might ruin… what? The holiday spirit? The meal? The absolute discomfort they were now forced to sit in?
Blaine Anderson loved Christmas – he just didn’t particularly enjoy spending the holidays with his parents.
He glanced up – hazel eyes quickly roaming around the table, as if trying to find an opening, something to fill this unbearable silence. He found his brother staring back at him, eyebrows a little raised, mouth tilted in one of the corners in what could only be a sarcastic little grin. Cooper didn’t seem as uncomfortable as he was, but then again, Cooper was great at pretending nothing was wrong.
Maybe it wasn’t as bad as Blaine thought it was. He was just a little less used to being home (was it even home, still? It hadn’t felt like home when he lived here, most times) since he had gone away to college. New York had embraced him like he had always belonged there, like his heart had been made to absorb the sounds of the city and turn them into heartbeats.
Blaine had never quite fit in anywhere like he belonged in New York. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t sit for dinner with his parents without feeling like he was slightly suffocating.
Cooper, completely unconcerned, pushed his plate away and sat back more comfortably. “Delicious, mom. Loved the duck. It wasn’t dry at all.”
Pam Anderson glanced up at him and smiled gently. “Thanks, dear. Glad you enjoyed it. There’s more if you want…”
“Oh, no, no, I’m stuffed,” Cooper said, patting his belly. “I got to watch my weight or they’re going to hate me at work.”
“Oh yes,” Pam said. “How’s the play going? I’m so sorry we haven’t had a chance to go see it yet. Life can be so busy, you know…”
Blaine noticed that the smile on Cooper’s face got a little more forced than usual. There was always an excuse with their parents. They were always busy. There was always something that was slightly more important than being there for their children.
They weren’t children anymore, though. They had both accepted things as they were: Pam and John Anderson would never be picture-perfect parents, not only because that was impossible, but also because they weren’t interested in it. They had scraped by doing the bare minimum to be considered good parents and called it a job well done.
Cooper had always been a bit better at accepting that, Blaine guessed. He wasn’t sure if it was because Cooper had gotten to experience them when they were younger, more open, more patient, or if he just didn’t care anymore.
Blaine would always wonder and never dare to actually ask if they had gotten bored of trying when he was born. He was a lot younger than Cooper. Maybe he had been an accident. Maybe they hadn’t exactly been planning to have another kid…
Cooper was twelve years older than Blaine. For a very, very long time, they hadn’t exactly understood each other. But at some point it was like it finally clicked for them that, if they wanted to have a family, they had to be there for each other, because their parents weren’t going to change, weren’t going to become warmer, wouldn’t be what they had always expected parents to be…
When Blaine moved to New York after high school, Cooper had surprised him by following him there. He used the excuse that he wanted to try his luck at auditioning for plays instead of staying in Los Angeles and focusing only on films and TV shows, but Blaine had seen right through his lie: he wanted to be closer to his little brother. Still, he appreciated it. They had learned to be in each other’s corners, and Blaine was grateful that Cooper had been there as he started to navigate the new city and the new stage of his life.
“The play’s wonderful,” Cooper said. “I’m sure you’ll get a chance to go soon. It’ll be running for a while, I think.” He looked at Blaine, and Blaine dreaded whatever was about to come out of his brother’s mouth next. He had the habit of getting him into trouble and was absolutely no help getting him out of it afterwards. “Blaine’s been to see it a couple of times, despite how busy he’s been with his classes and everything…”
Blaine widened his eyes slightly, a silent warning that his brother completely ignored.
“Ah, yes,” their father said, finally putting down his fork, like they were finally talking about something that interested him. “Your classes, Blaine. How are they going? I expect you’ve passed every single one of them?”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Blaine muttered awkwardly. He glared at Cooper once more, as his brother did encouraging gestures that were not subtle at all. He sighed. “Well, actually… I’ve made a decision regarding my major, so…”
John sat back, eyebrow arched – those thick, dark eyebrows that looked so much like Blaine’s – and fixed Blaine with a serious look. “What do you mean you’ve made a decision regarding your major? I though we’ve settled on medicine…”
We’ve settled on medicine. Like Blaine had been given a choice at all. Like it hadn’t been entirely up to John to decide what Blaine was going to do with his life.
“I’ve decided to change my major to music,” Blaine blurted out, before he could lose his nerve. “Medicine is definitely a great career, but I don’t want to be a doctor…”
“Music?” John repeated, like he didn’t understand the meaning of that word. “So another one of my children has decided to be a starving artist?”
“Hey! I’m not starving,” Cooper protested, but no one was paying attention to him for once.
“And what exactly do you plan on doing with a music education, huh?” John asked, blue eyes so much like Cooper’s fixed on Blaine like he was the only person still sitting at the table. “Play guitar in a subway station for spare change? Wait tables during the day and play at some second rate bar at night?”
Blaine moved uncomfortably on his seat. “There’s nothing wrong with any of those things, but… I actually want to compose music. Maybe for musicals, maybe for movies, maybe just… play music.”
“Just play music,” John said and scoffed. “A very solid plan, son.”
“I just don’t want to live a life I’m not satisfied with,” Blaine said a little desperately. “And I know you guys really wanted me to be some sort of successful professional, but I have to do what’s best for me, right? I have to be happy with myself when I get out of bed in the morning…”
Pam seemed to notice the tension was growing, because she tried to smooth things over: “Of course, Blaine. We understand. Your father is just concerned that…”
But John shook his head, stopping her. “That is an incredibly childish outlook on life, Blaine. Happiness is ephemeral. You need a steady income and a respectable career…”
“Who says I can’t get that?” Blaine asked him. Part of him was starting to get angry, but the rest of him, the larger part that was usually too careful, too prone to put his head down whenever his father barked an order at him wouldn’t let the anger truly rise. “Why can’t you just… believe in me?”
John groaned, like he didn’t have the time for his children’s dreamy dispositions. “I don’t know where we went wrong with you two. I thought we raised you to have a good head on your shoulders.”
Blaine glanced at Cooper, who looked like he had just been slapped. He felt a bit like that, too. He had expected some resistance to his new career path, but their father was being overly harsh. He didn’t understand.
“I’m sorry if you don’t agree with me,” he said quietly. “But it’s my life. I want to do what I think is right.”
Slowly, John nodded, like he was considering Blaine’s words. Then he stood up, leaving the napkin carefully on the table. “Very well. Do whatever you want. But I won’t be paying for it.”
“John…” Pam started. “Let’s not be hasty…”
“I’m not going to put him through college just so he can throw his life away, Pam!” John exclaimed.
“We can talk about this some other day,” Pam insisted. “It’s Christmas, John.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” John replied. “He’s free to do whatever he wants, of course. He can spend the rest of his days scraping by and counting dimes so he can make rent. I’m not going to help him in any way. Pay your way through college, Blaine. And if you ever come to your senses and realize you’ve made a mistake, I’ll be more than happy to help you get a real degree.”
He walked out of the dining room, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence.
Cooper cleared his throat. “Well,” he muttered after a couple of minutes. “What’s for desert, then?”
Blaine pushed his plate away. He wasn’t hungry anymore.
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Happy Saturday Fandom :) Wanted to post links to the last few I know they came over the holidays in case anyone missed them. The master list has also been updated. 4x22 , 5x01, 5x02
We’ve reached our yearning era and I’m here for it. This one may not have a ton but it’s just enough that at we were all dying for more. I was so excited to be an era where very aware of their feelings but couldn’t be together yet. Good stuff. Let us proceed shall we?
5x03-Dye Hard
We jump one month into the future. Because Lucy has gone to UC school. So our couple has been apart for some time at this point. Making that longing extra intense. Lucy arrives home to a surprise party of sorts. She's just returning home from UC school. Tamara and Chris welcome her back with mustaches. I love how excited she is Lucy is back. Always take some cute hugs with them. She tells Lucy the she has to head to school but wants to hear all about it tonight. I love them so much.
Leaves us just the clown and Lucy. Bleh. She asks him how he’s doing? Says he’s doing ok. Typing is still hard but he’s glad to be back at work. Was going crazy on the couch. Tells her there’s something else that’s been helping him more. An online group trying to hunt Rosalind. Kinda like the one she was apart of for Aaron’s case back in 4x16. Lucy doesn’t look excited about this idea. He says they contacted him few weeks ago. They call themselves Dye Hards.
Hence the name of the episode. That their research is actually impressive. They compile all their credible tips in an encrypted document. Called the ‘mother doc.’ Lucy’s face is screaming how much she hates all this. But instead of reading her like he should he presses her further. Because it’s Chris…never respects any boundaries she’s putting up but sure man keep going. Force her to read about the one person who sets her PTSD off like no other.
Just so you can have some peace of mind…grumble….Dislike him so very much. Lucy tells him how not healthy this is. (It really isn’t…) That she’s just a patrol officer. He whines about how the task force is ignoring him. Of course they are ya putz. It's why he’s dragging her into this. I hate this very much. Lucy gives in and says she’ll give his doc a look. That good ole guilt driving her decisions about him some more. Smh.
Roll call starts out with Grey congratulating Lucy. She successfully passed UC school. Telling everyone that is no small feat. Look at Tim ever the proud husband. That look alone says everything you need to know about her crushing it. The soft looks in his eyes. That soft gaze he only reserves for her. *sigh* Oh pining era you are lovely.
Lucy trying to contain her emotions about all of it. Grey calling her out and congratulating her. Tim looking at her like she hung the moon and stars. Couldn’t be more telling if he tried. She can’t even look at him. Just messes with her thermos. Lucy not really knowing how to react to the attention. Especially Tim’s…She just nods and hopes they move on.
Aaron and Lucy come out of roll call together. Lucy is congratulating him on making P2. Lucy also commends him on being a good aide for Tim. Aaron is very aware of Tim and Lucy. Maybe not everything but enough to offer stepping back. Then asks Lucy if Tim said he’s doing a good job? Lucy says no…that she made that last part up LMAO
Reminds me of 1x02 when Wrigley did the same to her. Thinking she got praise from Tim early on. Only to be crushed by the fact that he hadn't...Yeah you gotta really earn that Tim Bradford praise Aaron lol His reaction to that fake news is hilarious. Lucy can't lie and has to let him know no such praise has happened. Sorry my man.
Lucy follows it up with he hasn’t replaced him yet LOL I mean that’s a lot coming from Tim. If he wasn't happy he would've traded him away like baseball card. Lucy adding on 'So he’s…happy.' As happy as one could be without his person by his side sure. This next bit it sticks in her throat a bit as she says it.
Telling him he should stick with him. Obviously killing her to be to be apart from him. To pass up taking being his aide once again. But she wants to keep the distance up. For the same reasons as 5x02. Hurts too much to be around him when she can’t be with him. The pining era is so good for these moments. Aaron asks if she’s sure? Because she doesn't seem sure...
Only they could have such immense chemistry with an intense stare. One that is across the room from each other BTW. The longing is palpable af. Angsty goodness right here. Also those are some smoldering bedroom eyes for Lucy. My god idk how she could function after him looking at her that way. Would make me hot under the collar good god. That man wants her back in his shop. But we know that isn’t happening anytime soon.
So much pining and tension with just one look good lord. His stare does end up affecting her. Her breath hitches a little when they make eye contact. She stammers a little in her advice to Aaron. I love how they find each other those across a room. That magnetic pull only they understand. It’s automatic no matter what’s going on. Lucy rambling on about needing some quiet time anyways..You know for her next steps in her career...
More like Tim thinking time. Let’s be real. I love how the entire time she’s just staring at Tim. Spending most of their conversation just staring right back. Even when he’s looked down. She misses him so much. That is very evident in this moment. When she finally breaks off her longing she notices Aaron looking at his phone ha Not even paying attention to her anymore. Making a sassy comment that he hasn't even heard a word she's said. He apologizes and says he has to deal with something personal.
We start out with Tim and Aaron. Tim feeling extra surly after seeing Lucy. Much worse getting to be that close and not really getting to see her. So Aaron is on thin ice when Tim sees him buried in his phone. He apologizes and says he’s having person problem. Tim saying this is a ‘personal life free zone.’ Ha! Not since Lucy Chen entered your life it isn’t…
Aaron tells him it could derail his career. Tim sighs and that little bit of Lucy’s influence comes out. He asks him what it is? Aaron going on about a dating site. Using a thirst trap LOL Tim’s reaction is too damn funny. ‘I wish I didn’t…’ Look at our softie helping Aaron with his problem.
He goes on to tell Tim he was cat-fished and now the dude is blackmailing him. Tim is confused saying he thought the pic didn’t show anything? We find out this guy has photoshopped something worse. He shows it to Tim and I’m dying. ‘Could’ve been worse…At least he was generous. LMAO Oh Timothy I love you so.
We catch Lucy riding solo. She sees a homeless man go into an abandoned building. Calls it in saying she going to go look for squatters. She calls back in after she’s finds nothing. Saying she is Code 4. That is before she notices a freezer open with wallets in it. The man she followed in traps her in the old walk in freezer. Thankfully it’s out of commission. Unfortunately it blocks her radio signal. Leaving her trapped there with no one to tell she is….You can tell she wants to shout a whole lot of expletives above ha
Aaron gets contacted by his catfish. He wants a PS5 and delivered to his apt. Tim is so funny in this scene. Saying oh good he’s a dumbass LOL Giving up his location and needing something they can obtain on the way. Aaron doesn’t want to give in but Tim makes a good point about the photo. It’ll be in police evidence and he doesn’t want that ha. Aaron says good thing he has a gamer connection in K-Town. Tim shaking his head not shocked in the least about this. Of course he does...
Poor Lucy tries once again to get ahold of dispatch but to no avail. She has to try and talk her anxiety down. I would be doing the same thing to try and relax. Telling herself that at some point there will be a welfare check. (Well Tim will for sure…) She can’t do anything until that point. So she pulls out her phone and starts reading that mother doc the clown sent. Lucy is too funny as she reads these messages.
I love her talking to the smiley face on the freezer LOL She is so adorable I cannot stand it. Then she stumbles upon someone making sense. As she reads it aloud something clicks in her brain. A saying Rosalind told Nolan a long time ago. The 5 star meal comment. Lucy starts to get restless again. Jumps up and starts banging on the door for help again.
They show up to the address and it’s a teenager..he just wanted a PS5. I love how stern and authoritative Tim is with this kid. Saying bad behavior doesn’t get rewarded. Mmm no it doesn’t. Idk why that does it for me with Tim but it does. It’s yum tum city and I am a resident. They get the kid to delete the photo and take down the profile. He says they suck when Tim takes the PS5. Cracks me up he keeps it for himself. I love this man so very much haha
We return to the shop and Tim’s Lucy radar is going off. Aaron’s going on about the kid still but Tim’s mind is elsewhere. He has Lucy on his brain. Has that panicked look he reserves only for her going on. He asks Aaron the last time he heard Chen on the radio? He replies he can’t remember…maybe like hour or two ago? Let me start with I adore him waiting to hear her voice on the radio. Then noticing he hasn't in awhile.
How he keeps track of not hearing from her in some time. Tim knows she’s solo today. You know that man was subconsciously keeping track of her in the back of his mind. Some serious married vibes here my love. This definitely doesn’t line up with the 'moving on’ you were talking bout in 5x02. When Aaron says least 2 hours worried Tim arrives. He’s freaking out something has happened to her.
I’m sure he’s also thinking if she was riding with him this wouldn’t be happening. But she isn’t…Tim contacts dispatch about her. They say it’s been over two hours. Angry/protective Tim also joins the party. Welcome sir nice to see you. Telling dispatch they’re gonna talk about that later. Phew lord. You know that man is going to destroy dispatch over this. Hell is going to rain down on them for not keeping track of her. For now he just wants her location to check on her. Needs to get his worried husband portion to settle first.
Once they’ve arrived he calls out her name a couple times. Lucy finally hears him and bangs on the door. Then comes a DELICIOUS shot of his arms/forearms. My god it’s like they’re trying to make me a puddle. The definition in his arms as he pulls that door free.* fans self* god that man is in shape. Mmm Legit drooling as he pulls on that door. Forearm porn AND biceps shot. I’m a happy girl. Like hot damn that is a thirst trap of a shot above.
He gets the door to finally pop open. Also nice thigh/bootie shot of him as well. I'm not mad about it. Asking her how she is? So very worried about her. Unfortunately Lucy is not in the frame of mind to receive it. Just tells him she has a lead on Rosalind. Not the response he was expecting…He asks 'What?' anyways. She tells them about the message boards Chris has been on. Filled with arm chair detectives. Tim asks her if they found her? She says no she thinks one of them is her.
The Feds get brought in cause Chris’s dumbass has been talking to her. Feeding her stuff about him and the investigation going on. Because well it's Chris. Can’t read Lucy when she’s being obvious af so why would he notice this? Lucy is sweet and tells him he didn’t know. I on the other hand am like dumbass LOL He asks if he should set up a meet. Yes Chris, she’s a highly intelligent psychopath she wouldn’t see through that at all…
Garza saying Cyber crimes is now involved. They’re going to try and track her through her IP address if possible. Chris is feeling like the dummy he is. He leaves the meeting upset. I’m a bad person enjoying this lmao I mean Tim would’ve been Lucy’s real target but he was in Vegas with her. She knows that’s her fierce protector. So he was the next I was gonna say best thing but that’s not true. But closest thing that would rattle her.
Tim and Aaron arrive at the station and there is posters everywhere. Everyone is laughing. Of course Smitty has them and is glowing over it. I mean Tim did pick Nolan over him for union president. So of course he is enjoying this. It's of Tim photoshopped naked with a cupcake covering him up OMG. Tim is seeing red. I don’t blame him. Just when they thought their catfish was over he pulls this. Clearly pissed at Tim for taking the PS5 and lecturing him.
They arrive at Pavi’s house with the felony papers. Tim saying he can file these today. Or he could use his skills for good. James needs someone to teach computer literacy at the center. That if is does this twice a week he’ll shred them. Otherwise he has 18 months to file these. He’s a little snot and throws Tim’s words about electronics back at him. Tim says he’s lucky Aaron believes in second chances. His mom calls him and he says to text him the details. I love Tim leaving Aaron hanging for his fist bump LMFAO. He does tell him they did good though so that’s something. Aaron has to fist bump himself ha.
Lucy gets to join the task force with the FBI. They’re headed to Seattle where the IP was traced. Lucy looks like an absolute bad ass in OP gear. A determined look on her face. They make it inside and find two bodies…sadly the homeowners. Psycho worked out of their house and just left their bodies there as she did. She is a one sick cookie. Lucy sees her message written in blood on the wall. She is long gone.
Not a ton in this one but what we did get was real good. Plus I always enjoy Tim/Aaron time they have a good dynamic. Fun to watch them together.
~~~
Side notes-non Chenford
Intro of Celina Juarez. I wasn’t sure about her at first but ended up adoring her. Just like Aaron. Good job writers haha
Did love Tim tearing Nolan a new one about Celina bad stop. Was sexy af. Maybe shouldn’t have been a turn on but it was LOL
Thank you as always to you lovely readers. Wouldn’t be here without your likes/comments and reblogs ❤️ see you in 5x04 :)
#Caitlin Rewatches the Rookie#chenford#chenford hiatus#waiting on s6#winter rewatch#S5#5x03 Dye Hard#the rookie 5x03#otp: doing my job#otp: you know me so well. too well.#otp: some things matter more.#otp: you did good.#otp: you're nothing like him.#otp: just doesn't feel like pretend#tim x lucy#tim bradford#lucy chen#lucy x tim#eric winter#melissa o'neil#the rookie#tim bradford x lucy chen
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Dincember - December 20: Celebration
character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)
prompt: Celebration
main masterlist • dincember masterlist
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙
The sound of the N-1's engine got closer and closer, making your entire body experience a rush of excitement as you ran around the cabin turning off all the lights. Grogu cooed with his own delight, and you gently shushed him. The child giggled, giddy in anticipation as you did the same with him.
You remained in close reach of the nearest light's activator and waited for the cue. As soon as the door to the cabin slid open, you activated the light, allowing Din to see what you and Grogu had been up to in his absence.
"Surprise!" You beamed at Din as Grogu tried to babble the same word.
Din was frozen in shock, his travel knapsack haphazardly falling at his side as his visor admired all the directions. The feast on the table was fresh, thanks to Din's update about his time of arrival, and hopefully it smelled as good to Din as it did to you.
Din still didn't speak, nor did he move - aside from the small movements of his visor. You bit your cheek in anticipation. "Do you like it?" A flicker of fear chilled your chest. "Or is it too much?"
Din finally took a step forward, his armored chest inflating with a breath. He was only able to speak one word, a question that somehow said a thousand more. "How?"
You shrugged and patted Grogu's head. "Well, this little guy was a big help." Grogu cooed and you smiled at him. "I just remembered you talking about this holiday from Aq Vetina a long time ago and I realized it was coming up. We have a place to celebrate it now, so..." you gestured to your surroundings, "I figured we would do that."
Din shook his helmet, stopping just a few feet in front of you. His visor was unable to look away from the setup. "It looks just like home." His modulated voice is strained, now, though his joy is palpable. "It smells just like home."
You grinned wider at that. "Oh, good. I'm glad." You and Grogu shared a look. "We just really wanted you to feel like you were at home again." Grogu nodded to affirm your words.
Din's visor found the two of you, his helmet tilting before his hands held the sides of it. He removed it and set it aside, his brown gaze sparkling with joyful tears that the lights caught. You were surprised when he came close enough to draw you into his arms, the movements slow enough to allow you to stop him if you wanted to. You held him in return, grinning into his cowl as he took a deep, steadying breath. "Thank you." Din fought to keep his voice strong.
You held his cape and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're welcome."
He ran a gloved hand over your back and stepped away, his forefinger and thumb holding your chin to make you face him. "No matter what this cabin looks like," Din smiled, "it will always be my home, now." He gestured to the setup. "The past is the past." Din nodded at you. "You two are my future."
You joined him in his joyful tears, holding his face to press his forehead against your own. There would be a hell of a celebration after that moment, but you wanted to remain in it for a couple minutes longer - as did Din.
#oh to see din with happy tears#dincember 2023#din djarin#the mandalorian#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin fic#prompts#dindjarindiaries
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I guess I’ll take this pain, instead of your name |
Part Twenty-Seven
A/n: Hey! 27's here, sorry for the long wait, took a break whilst on holiday and then I lost all motivation. But here it is and so full of fluff and stuff too! I'm not sure where this'll lead in truth, if it even will, but I'm grateful to everyone who's shown the series some love! Hope you like the update:) No warnings on this one I think, only mention is that there may be some more terrible Spanish written in here, so I apologise beforehand to all fluent speakers, I'm sorry! Also we're starting with a Matty pov, which will then switch and stay in the first person, enjoy! X
Summary: In life, things changed. The boys you'd once grown up with were men now, and famous ones at that. The type that toured the world and had millions of adoring fans.
The five of you shared a shit ton of history. But you also shared a lot of mixed emotions for one of them in particular, a certain drummer.
Masterlist
—MATTY’S POV—
He was stood in the doorway, see. Just watching, observing the way she carefully moved about the bedroom, lost in her own head as she typically was most days. He could visibly see the cogs ticking about in there, the endless train of thought she’d plopped herself down on. But she puttered about still, getting ready for, well, God only know’s what. But he had an inkling.
She glanced up at him through the mirror she had sat on the dresser and he flashed her a squinted smile, arms folded across his chest, body propped up against the door's frame.
“Gonna stand there all afternoon, creep?” She teased.
Matty rolled his eyes and moved across the floor to join her, eyes flitting briefly over the makeup she had laying about. “Might do, got a problem with that?”
She chuckled and shook her head faintly in return, fiddling with a necklace she couldn’t quite clasp with her cast still on.
“Here, lemme.” Matty motioned towards her and grasped the thin silver chain from her hands before pivoting her back around, the two of them facing the mirror now. He spoke quietly as he looped it over her head and around her neck, tinkering with the clasp, “So where you off to then?”
Those lovely eyes of hers fluttered downwards and he caught the slight quirk of a smile in the glass. He had to hide his own.
“Just out with George.” She admitted softly and looked up at him again then, as though she wanted to read his reaction to it.
He really had to dim his grin now, instead opting to fiddle with the finicky clasp of the necklace she’d had since forever, because it seemed he’d been correct in his hidden assumption.
Not that it’d been much of a secret though, fucking surprised that half of Tenerife hadn’t heard the pair of them roaring at each other late last night. But he figured that they'd somehow needed that, to air out forgotten wounds and make anew. Probably still had a long way to go though- and he’d very much be watching George’s every move along the way- but he was glad for the change in direction. It’d been a long time coming.
He hummed and let the necklace fall around her collar once he'd caught the latch, before pushing her hair forward and dropping his chin to rest atop her shoulder. Their eyes met in the mirror, “You nervous?”
She released a shaky sort of breath around a sweet smile, fingers coming up to play with the tiny hummingbird the necklace held. “Why’d you ask that?”
He shrugged a single shoulder and smirked at her in the reflection, throwing an arm around her too for good measure. “Good thing, nerves. Make you feel like you’re living, innit? Like you’re doing something right.”
Her eyes narrowed but she was still smiling at him, even as she released the chain to childishly flick the side of his head, “Maybe, but you’re making them worse right now.”
Matty only laughed and pulled away when she walked over to where she had a couple shoes lying about. “How? I’m just bein’ nice!” He retorted in defence, “And besides, we both know you could probably dye his pubes bright orange and he’d say thank you. Sad how in love the kid is with you.”
She rolled her eyes at him with a slight scoff, deciding to ignore him and instead ask, “What do you reckon then, trainers or sandals?”
Flopping down onto the already made bed, Matty hummed as he looked between the pair, “Where’re you headed?”
“Not a hundred percent, out to eat maybe?”
Matty kissed his teeth in thought, “G will probably plan something a bit more than that. Go with the trainers, just in case.” There was a wrinkle between her brows even as she went along with his choice and he withheld a heavy sigh, “Or just go with whatever you think’s best, ey?” Women!
“Nah, ’s not that. Just...” She fiddled with her shoelace, but Matty knew better than to offer to help her with them these days, easier to just let her do it at her own pace. And he knew that now, same way he knew he’d have to go about awaiting on a prolonged answer. She sighed quietly to herself after a minute, having finally collected the right words, he assumed. “I don’t know, made it sound like it’s a date or summat.”
Now it was his turn to fucking frown. “What, is it not then?” He prodded as he propped himself up onto his hands to look over at her.
She shrugged, all timid-like and just not her. “Dunno.”
Matty dragged his tongue across the inside of cheek and under his bottom lip before he huffed loudly and jumped up off the bed, her head snapped up towards him as he did.
“Where’re you goin’?” She questioned him, but he reckoned she already had a feeling- they’d both known each other far too long to not.
“To fucking ask the twat.”
“Matty, don’t you dare!” He heard her call out just as passed over the threshold, heard her continue to repeat herself too before she stumbled out onto the landing to chase after him. But he didn’t care, muttering about how he’d have to ‘smash fuckin’ heads together to make people see sense these days’ and 'forced into doing bloody everything around here’.
“Matty!” She repeated in a hissing sort of tone from somewhere behind him, but he was already barreling into George’s room without knocking or a care to level his bandmate with a put-upon glare.
“Right!” He proclaimed outright, catching the attention of said idiot messing about with his hair nervously in the mirror, “G, mate, is this a date you’re taking our Birdie out on today or not? ‘Cause if we could just settle this whole thing now then I reckon we’d all be able to go about things a bit easier, no?”
His blunt tone and question had George faltering in utter surprise and then glancing between himself and the girl, wearing only one shoe, stood in his doorway looking just as sheepish as him. Matty rose both brows at the pair and let out a heaving sigh when neither spoke a word.
“Fucks sake. George!” He demanded and was finally gifted the attention he so deserved- these two, a right pair of muppets.
George fish-mouthed for a split second, alarmed eyes darting between them both, but he nodded as he swallowed thickly. “Yeah, um yes. At least, I'm hoping.”
Matty flew his hands up praisingly, “Thank fuck!” He exclaimed and then turned towards the other nuisance in his life, “Right, now B, you down for this date or are you gonna crush the poor knob’s heart?”
The girl snorted and Matty noted that a faint flush stained her cheeks as she dipped her head, but she was still smirking over at the giant idiot stood in the corner, a shoe dangling from her hand.
Matty grinned at the both of them and then moved to leave the room, “Good! Right! Glad we got that debacle all cleared up. What would you lot do without me, hey?” He shot her a sly wink as he passed by, feeling very smug if he did say so himself, and just hoped that the two of them could cope for another couple of hours without him.
—
It was strange, this void we were sitting in. Quiet. Nervous really, but not the bad sort. Just this buzzing energy that surrounded the both of us in the backseat of this cab together.
George kept shooting me quick glances, almost afraid to linger but unable to hold his stare ahead. It was making me all jittery, the kind of feeling most tended to get when you were with someone new and you were excited to see where it would head. But G and I, we’d never had that the first go around. He'd been a stranger, a part of the band, a friend next, and then we were together.
It sounded simple, wording it like that, though it'd been anything but.
Still, this buzz was sweet and palpable. It had a hold on my breath, as well as my mind. It was fucking thrilling.
“¿Lleva usted mucho tiempo en España?” The cab driver questioned, breaking the silence that had only been ebbed by the low hum of the radio and the outside traffic. His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and I smiled.
“A mí más que a él, pero sólo durante unas semanas.” I replied, gaze drifting towards George for a moment when I felt his eyes on me, I was glad when he didn’t glance away again. “¿Desde cuándo es taxista?”
The cabby hadn’t known much English when he’d pulled up outside of the villa, so there had been evident relief written into the quirk of his smile when I'd realised and answered him in Spanish. He’d been trying though throughout the drive, for George’s sake I realised, who had gifted the man his phone once we'd entered so that I’d be none the wiser of our destination.
“Uh, few years.” The driver answered me as he pulled out of another side street. “Siete y medio?”
I hummed around another smile, “Seven years is a long time! You enjoy it?”
He nodded, flashing me an understanding grin. “Sí, sí! Mucha gente maravillosa.”
“¿Muchas historias que contar?”
He laughed in retort, flicking the indicator downwards. “Many secrets, too.” He indulged.
George was wearing this bemused smile beside me, eyes squinted as they travelled between the driver and myself, but he seemed content enough to just sit and listen in on our conversation.
“Like what?” I questioned the man, leaning in a little closer in my seat in hopes that he’d divulge a bit more.
I was pleased when he did, went on to tell me a few myriads about the travellers he’d picked up on drives, as well as a few of the familiar locals. One man had brought along his pet parrot, though it hadn’t been caged, just stationed on his arm, and the guy had said nothing more about it. Only spoke a few words about where he was headed and then spent the rest of the journey whispering to the bird, his eyes almost crazy. Our driver had said that it’d put him on edge but he hadn’t been able to help his hysteric laughter once he’d finally dropped the passenger off at some banana boat rental place.
Another, was with this older woman. He’d thought nothing much of this blonde who'd climbed into his cab outside of a bar one night, figured she was just headed home from meeting with friends or family, but it'd been nothing of the sort. Instead she’d asked to be dropped off outside of this crappy, rundown hotel on the edge of town and said she was meeting up with a ‘client’. In the shortened version of his story, she’d actually been a prostitute and had many a story of her own to tell him on the way over, having been in the game nearly twenty years. One involved the time she’d had to hide an eight ball of coke where the sun didn’t shine. She’d then gone on to offer to show him exactly she she’d done it in the back of his cab, but he’d been too shocked to speak. Even so, the woman had still flashed him her arsehole before getting out and paying her tab.
I was chuckling away to myself as the driver finished up with his latest tale. I'd been a translator of sorts for both him and George, who was now unable to help his laughter too it seemed, all of us pleasantly pleased by the joyful atmosphere that'd been created. So lost in our conversation that I was honestly surprised when the car rolled to a stop on the side of the road, so slowly I’d barely even noticed until the man had turned back to face us.
"Sin embargo, a pesar de lo divertidas que fueron esas personas, creo que este viaje fue uno de mis favoritos." The cabbie smiled, his eyes kind.
I murmured a repeat of what he’d said to George and the drummer mimicked the warm words back to the man, claiming to feel a similar way. I believed him, too, G had been all over the world, probably met more cab drivers than anyone else I’d ever met, but the expression he wore then was too genuine to be anything other.
“Ustedes dos han sido encantadores de conducir,” The man acknowledged, glancing between us. “Thank you for listening, yes?”
I gifted him a large grin as George and I steadily made for the door, “Thank you for telling us. Ha sido un placer conocerle.”
“Sí, y tú, querida.”
George handed him some euros through the driver’s side window and the man patted the back of his hand in thanks as he accepted the cash. “Muchas gracias. Mantenerse seguro y cuida de ella, ¿vale?” I heard the man say and George chuckled whilst nodding his assent.
“I’ll try. Thank you, man.”
And then the cab begun to pull away and George and I were left- hang on, where the hell had we been left?
“Where are we?” I asked the same man, squinting as I raised a hand over my face to shield my eyes from the hot sun, wanting to glance about. There wasn’t much surrounding us, just a single row of brightly coloured houses on a quiet little street littered with palms.
My gaze found him again when he failed to answer. He was stood across from me, still stuck in the same place he’d taken since having stepped out of the cab, now though he wore a cheeky smile. “Truth?”
I lingered on the term and then bit my lip, before nodding once.
George tucked his hands into the shorts he was wearing, blue they were, and had sunglasses atop his head that didn’t move even as he turned it to the left. “I have not a fucking clue.”
He started laughing when he saw the way my face instantly dropped.
“George. Be serious right now, ‘cause I swear to God.”
The idiot only continued to laugh, though it was practically a snicker now, as he glanced back at me. “I’m not gonna lie and say I know exactly where we are, that I could probably get us back to the villa if I really tried, but that’s not me, is it? So, what I will tell you, is that I paid Ross a stupid amount of money to find us a secluded enough beach so that we wouldn’t be bothered, and then drag some shit down here so that it’d be set up for when we arrived.”
I blinked at him. There must’ve been about a foot or two of distance separating us- seemingly planned- and so I found myself stepping off the curb to close it. George looked a little apprehensive the nearer I grew and I saw the way his shoulders hunched a tad as though he was expecting a slap or something of the sorts.
Instead, I simply stopped just shy of his nose, now toe to toe, and glanced up at him.
“How much we talking here?”
George exhaled an amused chuckle through his nose, “That’s what you choose to focus on?” I raised a brow and he relented. “A lot, because he’s a twat and I’m gone enough on you to do just about anything to make this day perfect. Yeah?”
I found myself withholding a very apparent smile upon hearing that, which only made him that more nervous, which entail then had him rambling to save himself.
“I know it’s stupid, yeah, but Ross, he’s smart, ain’t he? And I figured that he’d want this to be nice for us- for you, I mean. And Matty and Hann they’d’ve botched this right up if I'd've asked them. Like could you imagine? Ad would’ve had us on some fucking boat sailing off somewhere romantic, forgetting that you get motion sickness and I hate being stuck with fuck all to do- I mean, after all that water, what else is there, innit? Then Matt, he’d’ve either gone over the top with it all, or gotten a right laugh out of it. So, yeah, Ross had been my only option, really. And I knew I could trust him to tell me if I was playing a tit, if all this wouldn’t be something you’d want, but he didn’t and so, here we are.”
He forced a grin he obviously didn't feel and scratched at the jut of his jaw.
Giving in, I finally cracked that smile I’d been hiding and released an airy titter when his whole being relaxed.
“Where’s this beach then?” I questioned him, hands linked behind my back as I pushed myself up onto my tiptoes, glinting eyes finding his. He knocked his head one way and then rolled his lip together whilst watching me.
“Somewhere over there, I think.”
“Think?” I challenged with a small smirk, he hummed. “Reckon you can lead the way then?”
I inhaled at the way his eyes roamed the entirety of my face, like he was taking in every inch of it that he could. My head shot downwards when I felt his fingers graze the skin of my forearm, I let it drop from behind my back and swallowed when our hands slipped together.
“If you’ll let me.” Was all he said, and I nodded quietly before I let him lead us out and away from the road.
We travelled down a lengthy little alleyway slotted between a pair of tall houses, one terracotta, the other a pale yellow, and came across a slanted cliffside. It was there that we discovered a painted gate that led to a set of stone steps leading down, down, down onto a grassy verge that soon trailed into thick golden sand.
I’d kicked my shoes off the second I could and breathed in when my feet finally touched the warm sand. George’s hand never left mine all the while and together we waltzed down the length of the beach, murmuring to one another in the breeze whilst the sea washed away our footprints.
It was just after George had almost tried to trip me up and spin me further into the ocean that something up ahead caught my eye. A smoky trail that danced high in the sky and was coming from a small fire-pit that had been lit on the sand. I must’ve stopped pretty abruptly because George frowned at me before a smile graced his features.
“Cool, ain’t it? My idea that, just so you know, in case Ross tries to rob any of the credit.”
I blinked a couple times, taking in the scene set out before us, and then looked up at him. “You planned this?” I asked as he continued to lead me closer.
There’d been an oversized blanket spread out, held down by a couple rocks at either corner, it homed this wicker basket that sat in its centre. An old radio with an antenna as long as a Wolfhound’s tail perched by the flickering firelight too, practically as old as the song it sang.
“Sacrifice, really?” I pondered aloud, a happy smile limning my lips as I turned to glance over at George, who merely shrugged in turn.
“Figured everyone loves a bit of Elton.”
I chuckled, “And what’s in there?” I asked, gesturing over towards the basket.
“Food and some other shit.” George answered me. I shook my head and mimicked his stupid reply under my breath, earning myself a playful shove. “You know what I mean.”
“A picnic then? George Daniel who ever claimed you weren’t a cliche!”
“Piss off.” George laughed, “I can just chuck this all out you know, then all this effort gone will have gone to waste.”
I feigned a pout, “Poor Ross’ll be so disheartened.”
He narrowed his eyes at me then, done with all my needless teasing now it appeared, and I wailed in sudden surprise when he lifted me up off my feet and tossed me over his shoulder.
“George!”
“Nah, reckon I’ll keep the cliche picnic and nice little blanket I set out, let the radio play, and just sod you off instead. Sea’s big enough for you to get lost in and, if I remember rightly, you quite like to swim.”
“George, I swear!” I shouted through my laughter, thumping his arse with my one good hand. “Put me down, now!”
George paused just short of the shore for a second and hummed theatrically. “You willing to apologise then?”
I scowled and he must’ve sensed it, even with my head hanging just short of his hip, because his body moved with a chuckle.
“What was that, lovely? Can’t quite hear anything yet.”
I huffed, figuring a half-arsed apology was better than getting my cast wet. Because we both knew he'd do it. “Sorry for making fun of your picnic.”
“Come again, can’t hear you over the wonderful sound of the sea. These waves are something else, I tell you, you seeing ‘em too?”
George yelped when I pinched the back of his leg in retaliation and I laughed even as he treaded further into the water.
“I said sorry! I'm sorry! Now take me back, you giant prat!”
Thankfully he did and I was breathless when he placed me back down on the blanket.
“Alright there, Birdie?” He smirked at me and planted his hands on his hips whilst I flipped him off and staggered over to have a nose in the basket. He laughed as he followed behind me, “Come on, B. I was only messin’.”
I hummed and peered over at him when he settled down on the blanket too, “So was I. This is really nice, G. You didn’t have to, you know.”
He grew a little sheepish then I reckon, because he looked off into the horizon to hide his face from view. “Wish I could’ve done more in truth.”
I rolled my eyes but gasped when I caught sight of the batch of tiny chocolates tucked away in the very bottom of the basket. “How the fuck did you manage to find these this time of year?”
George chuckled at my childlike excitement upon finding the Mini Eggs and shuffled in closer to unwrap the packet I’d been struggling with. “Man of many talents me.”
I shook my head in disbelief and thanked him when he handed the chocolate eggs back to me. “No, really. I need to know ‘cause I want to take a stash of these back to England with me.”
I offered him up one but he just shook his head before leaning back on his elbows. “Can’t. Didn’t buy them here.” He told me, and I tilted my head in confusion. He shot me a brief smile before he wrinkled his nose. “Brought ‘em with me, didn’t I?”
My forehead pinched and I shuffled in place to bring my knee up to rest my arm on. “What do you mean, you find them at the terminal or something?”
George just shook his head, eyes grazing the shoreline. “Got drunk a couple of weeks before last Christmas. I mean, like off my head, couldn’t remember fuck all when I woke up, drunk. Right?” I hummed, waiting for him to continue on. “And well, a couple of days before Christmas finally rolled around, I got a knock at the door, didn’t I? Confused as to what the fuck it could possibly be, hadn’t ordered anything to the house, everything I had had gone straight to the studio, but I opened it up anyway, figuring it might’ve been from my dad or something, and was met with the sight of like, a 5kg bag of Mini Eggs”
I snorted, unable to help myself, and raised my hand to cover my mouth. “Why?” I couldn’t help but ask, and this was when he sort of shuttered.
I watched as George purse his lips before blowing out a large breath, still looking anywhere but me.
I forced out a small chuckle, “G? What, is it really that bad? Were the Mini Eggs just a cover for some sort of drug smuggle or something?”
George’s mouth twitched into something that almost resembled a smile. “Imagine... The Sun would have a right field day with that, wouldn’t they.”
I popped another egg into my mouth and allowed it to melt a tad before knuckling his shoulder, “Tell me.”
He sighed and then groaned as he shifted over onto his side. “Before we broke up, a bit before your birthday, I kept on thinking over and over about what to get you for it, yeah? And you’d complained about not having these things all year round, or something of the like. It wasn’t long after things had all gone to shit between us that I’d managed to drink myself stupid trying to escape my own head, just to stop thinking about how much I’d fucked up with you. But even the drink couldn’t help.”
He snorted quietly to himself, as though he was telling an inside joke only he knew about, fingertip grazing the pattern in the blanket beneath us. “Ended up ordering you the chocolates a year later anyway, didn’t I? Even pissed out of my head I can’t seem to ever escape you.”
I chewed away quietly to myself, not sure how to take his story in truth. It was difficult to swallow past the idea of him wasting away like that, drinking and doing whatever else just to get through, just to avoid me. I toyed with the sweet packet I held as I did. But ultimately decided to take it on the chin, make light of it. Because there was bound to be more tidbits like this shared from the both of us in the future, so why hold onto them and feel ashamed?
“So, all I’m hearing is that, somewhere back home, you’ve got a massive stash of Mini Eggs just waiting for me?”
George laughed, a breath of relief rippled out of him, “Sure. Well, not quite. Good portion of it's gone now-”
I cut him off with a hurt shout, “What do you mean, gone?”
“If you’d let me finish,” He went on to say, shaking his head at me playfully, but there was something behind his eyes that told me he was grateful for the out he’d been given. I waved a hand and gestured for him to hurry along. He rolled his eyes, not unkindly. “Christ. As I was saying, it’d been a couple days before Christmas, I was lonely and fucking depressed, wallowing away in Ross’s smelly flat most of the time, and they’d just been sat there, hadn't they? So I’d stuck on the Godfather-”
“One or two?”
He groaned, helpless to my ongoing interruptions. “Two, obviously.” And I hummed my quiet approval. “Any-fucking-way, I ended up just eating them as I watched the film.”
“Isn’t it like three and half hours long?”
“Are you gonna keep interrupting me every time I speak?”
“Might do.” I shrugged, fighting back a smile.
He released a breathy laugh, “Figured. But yeah, almost that long. So by the time it’d ended I could hardly bare to look at another fucking egg again. Had to have Ross come and take them from me and ended yucking up in his downstairs loo, which he wasn’t too happy about.”
I giggled then plucked another chocolate from the bag to hold out towards him, “Even now?” He grimaced and shoved my hand away. I laughed harder, “Come on, G. They’re so good!”
“No, go away.” He said, chuckling as he rolled onto his back to escape me.
I paused and had a thought hit me. Hastily I moved onto my knees to crawl over to where he was spread out, and he watched me with a furrowed brow, one hand tucked up behind him to cushion his head.
“So I suppose that means you won’t be up for a kiss then, yeah?” I provoked as I popped another chocolate into my mouth, practically towering over him now. I saw the way his throat bobbed around a swallow.
“I mean, that’s different, ain’t it?” He tried, squinting into the sun above me whilst I smirked, baring down on one of his angled knees.
“No, I don’t think it is.” I shook my head, and I was being very brave here with my next move, because I hardly even thought about it as I swung my left leg over his torso to settle over him, leaning in close, one hand fisted in the sand above his head. “‘Cause it must be the taste, yeah? That sets you off. I’d probably have to brush my teeth or something before you even thought about wanting to kiss me, right?”
I was playing him like a fiddle and we both knew it.
Almost cautiously his fingers came to brush against the skin of my outer thigh, I tried not to outwardly react but his touch alone set me alight.
“Could always see though, couldn’t we?” He defended and I glanced down to his lips, parted ever so lightly, a breath away from my own.
It was then that I sat back up and rolled off onto the blanket next to him like nothing had happened. “Best not risk it.” I quipped and the laugh I’d kept at bay upon seeing the face he'd made was forced out of me when he all but threw himself on top of me, grinning as he shook his head in utter disbelief.
“Why’re you so nasty to me, B?” He murmured into the tiny space that separated us once more. “Huh?” He pressured as he brushed his nose against mine, “When I’ve done all this too.”
I smiled, this small fond thing that sent him grinning, and wrapped my legs around his waist to keep him close. “I already said thank you for the picnic.”
“Did you?”
I hummed sweetly, and for the third time since George had flown out to see me, I kissed him.
#the 1975#george daniel#george daniel the 1975#george daniel fic#george 1975#george daniel x reader#matty#matty healy#george daniel x you#1975#best friend matty#the 1975 band#fic#adam hann#ross macdonald#carly holt#1975 band#matty 1975#series#work#exes to lovers#y/n#reader#multi part fic#x you#x reader#angst#fluff#humour#drama
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𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 𝘍𝘌𝘌𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘗𝘖𝘚𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘐𝘛𝘠 𝘝𝘐𝘉𝘌𝘚 𝘐𝘋𝘒
i saw some people doing these end of year posts and i'm in a sappy mood so happy holidays and here's some people i adore !!
@stanfordprepped JARED my bestie my love the light of my life you're genuinely one of my best friends and an absolute day one ride or die i can't even describe how much samemma and cassdell mean to me and our other ships are top tier as well i'm so glad i met you and i'll get to updating cassie's aesthetic and bringing some cassdell to the dash right after this 🤍
@carp3diems ceejay . bestie . partner in crime . sounding board for every chaotic thought that goes through my mind . i adore you and our plots and threads and the way i can just hop into your dms like " hey can i traumatize our muses rq " and you're always down lmao you're so talented and i'm just very thankful for you and for colbemma and for all of our chaos
@multi-royalty maddieeeeeee i love you so much my big little sissy 🥹 the only person i'll write em in the tvdu for and the reason i'm still writing at all i owe so much to you and i appreciate that even if we don't talk constantly you know i think you're the bees knees and you make the rpc a better place you absolute ball of sunshine
@stilesstylelinski trick you fuckin goblin i don't know what i would do without our bullshit or your unconditional emotional support you and i have both had a pretty shit year and i'm just really glad we could lift each other up even a little bit throughout all of it . stemma owns my soul and i'm still just in awe of your portrayal okay you basically pull the boy off the screen
@boundforhale MOM mom i love you mom i'm so grateful for you and for the gremlin chat and for all the support and love you give . you're so talented and kind and you need to be NICER to yourself for taking your time with replies i would be happy with a reply a year okay plus derek is a stubborn asshole it wouldn't make sense if he woke up all the time lol when he does he comes out swinging though you knock it out of the park every time
@ruinedmyself twin 🤍 i think you're so neat okay the way your brain works is so fascinating and the love you put into your muses is like palpable you're so cool and so talented and brooklyn and sam are so fucking funny i can't watch the basement yard anymore without thinking of them . i'll make more edits of them soon the accuracy is just so unreal lol
@inkedmuses VVVVVV listen i have such brainrot for john b and emma right now they make me so happy all of our ships are so cute and interesting and i love them so much you have some of the coolest plot ideas ever it's so chaotic and so fun to just yell ideas at each other and bring them to life
@guiltye LILLY i mean i just could yell forever and i will i WILL yell forever i can't even believe how intricate and deep and unique all of our plots are i'm constantly in awe of your mind every time i get a meme or reply from you i'm starstruck i love you and i love yelling about noah with you and i just think you're so fucking cool and so creative and talented and interesting and strong as all hell and you just never fail to make me smile *mandolin playing* you got all my love 🤍
@n0prom1ses lumiiii listen i love these idiot sisters so much already and i think all of our ships and dynamics are so neat 🥹 i'm sad we lost so much time especially knowing why but i'm so glad nature is healing and that sonny is once again dragging asher by the balls bc frankly it's what he goddamn deserves
i could literally go on for hours but i do want to get some things done lmao so here's some more people that my note to is this : i adore y'all and i hope you have the best holidays / new year and that 2024 brings you everything you hope for 🤍
@svnflowehrs , @escapedfromthevoiid , @hellgiven , @qapsiel , @westwingsolo , @r4chelamber , @ofcrxwns , @ofblackskies , @neverrcry , @gunchamber , @controlledvolatility , @sarcasticsnackpack , @localsalt , @fuckmeupindie , @hstoryhuh , @mecwmellc , @surgcns , @unitcd , @unbearablyindifferent
#{ if i missed you i'm sorry and i hope you have the best holidays as well !! }#୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ so when my thoughts take off may i breathe deep ⌗ ooc .#୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ you’ll always be a flower on my skin and the pain that i am in ⌗ mentions .
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Small Little heads up!
Hey guys! Funny story... 😶
I'm glad my work load is getting much more organised and I think I will be able to do weekly progress updates, but not this month.
I've been going through some new diagnoses and medication and it's been a bit hard to work since that, not to mention that this month is gonna be vacation time and I'm gonna be spending time with my family. I might still write here and there when I can but I'm not getting my hopes up until things are back to normal.
Once again, thank you for the patience (seriously I appreciate it a lot), and I will see you guys in September!!
Oh and happy summer holidays! 🏖️☀️ If you guys celebrate that!
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Music (Marcus Moreno x Music Teacher F!Reader)
A Merry Fic-Mas - December 5
Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, follow @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.
Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Music Teacher F!Reader
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Fluff; intended as taking place after the events of We Can Be Heroes; one very tiny minor swear; Missy plays the trumpet; some references to Christmas carols and A Christmas Carol; yes the denouement is partly inspired by a scene in Love, Actually; no physical descriptions of reader; no use of Y/N; Marcus Moreno in a Fair Isle sweater.
Word count: 1565
Summary: Marcus Moreno is a Band Dad. You’re Missy’s music teacher and director of the junior high school orchestra. And you might have a tiny crush on a Heroic. And where better to realise that than at the holiday concert?
“Marcus. Marcus. MARCUS!”
Anita Moreno stands in the doorway of her son’s kitchen, wondering why Marcus is so oblivious to her voice as he empties the dishwasher, back turned.
“Oh, shit!” He lets a plate fall, startled by the seemingly sudden apparition of his mother. “Hi, Mom.” Marcus removes a pair of earplugs, scoops up the broken crockery, and crosses the room to embrace Anita.
“Earplugs, mijo?”
He shrugs and points upstairs, in the general direction of his daughter Missy’s bedroom. The strains of the trumpet solo on Joy to the World float through the house.
“She’s practicing extra hard for the holiday concert in a couple of weeks. She’s really good, Mom, she’s a star soloist. But… there’s only so many times you can hear the same stuff."
Anita huffs a laugh. “Been there, done that. I was secretly very glad when you decided you didn’t want to keep up piano lessons.”
Your rehearsal with the school orchestra is winding to a close with a final run through of Carol of the Bells, when you catch a glimpse of Marcus Moreno slipping quietly into the little auditorium and taking a seat near the back. He nods towards you in recognition, and you return the gesture while continuing to conduct the musicians.
Missy joined the orchestra a couple of months after her mother died, the camaraderie and creative outlet a useful form of therapy for a grieving child. Marcus, understandably, had been a little protective of her at first: ensuring he was there to pick her up after evening rehearsals, insisting on driving her to weekend day-long training and performance events, and always being one of the first to arrive for every show.
You had a quiet, teacherly pride in the way Missy had grown in confidence and independence since joining the group. Marcus still sometimes arrived early for pick up, settling in to hear the last piece of music at the back of the room, just like this evening. And he remained an enthusiastic “band dad”, as his Heroic colleagues teasingly called him. He’d worked closely with you on fundraising events over the years, and gladly used his public profile to boost support for programmes designed to give instruments to children otherwise unable to afford them. You had come to enjoy spending time with him, quietly thrilled whenever he would appear at rehearsal or join you at funding drives.
The final note rings out from the handbell section. Your hand signal marks the end of the piece. The teenagers begin chattering excitedly, and Marcus “Band Dad” Moreno applauds in the back row.
You can’t help but laugh when he starts cheering “Bravo!”, sending a mortified Missy diving for cover behind her trumpet case. He swiftly walks down the aisle when he notices you struggling to fold up the portable music stands, insisting on lending a hand as you start wrangling them off stage. He makes short work of it, lifting them with little to no effort and carrying them in his strong arms.
“Sounding great, as always,” he muses, stacking the stands in the little music store room. “I’m really looking forward to the show. Missy’s been practicing every minute she gets, she’s so excited about that solo.”
“She’s a talented musician, Marcus.” You lean in conspiratorially. “Even so, I hope you have invested in those earplugs I recommended. No matter how talented she is.”
He smiles that warm, genuine smile that somehow feels like the sun coming out, even in the depths of midwinter, and leans even closer. “Two pairs, just in case. And thank you. Seriously, thank you.”
“Has anyone heard from Missy?”
Your musicians shake their heads. It’s 6.55pm, the show is due to begin at seven, and there’s no sign of your lead trumpeter. The students have been trying to contact her on every social platform they can (and that’s a lot), and you’ve left a voicemail for Marcus.
“I’m going to try her dad one more time. For now: please take your places. If she doesn’t show, we’ll just have to fudge Joy to the World.”
Your left hand twitches nervously as you pace around backstage, listening to the ringing tone on the other end of the line. The telltale click of a call going to voicemail makes your heart sink.
“Marcus, hi, just me again. Um, we’re a little worried to have not heard from you or Missy and we hope you’re both okay. Please don’t panic and get here whenever you can, okay? But be safe. Hope you’re safe.”
As you hang up, you realise just how worried you are about them.
Marcus is getting out of his car before it has fully come to a halt, grabbing Missy’s bags and setting off at speed in the direction of the back entrance into the auditorium when his daughter calls him back.
“Dad! You forgot to turn off the engine?”
He swears under his breath, sprints back to the vehicle, and grabs Missy by the hand as they run into the school.
“Do you think we’ve missed your solo? I’m so sorry, sweetheart, you know how work gets sometimes and -”
Missy thinks for a moment, listening carefully to the music coming from the auditorium as she leads her dad down the narrow backstage corridors. “No, they’re still on In the Bleak Midwinter,” she whispers in reply. “Then there’s an intermission, and then it’s Joy to the World.”
Marcus exhales in relief, but keeps up his pace. “Phew. Okay. Guess we have to wait for intermission, right? Do you feel okay? Able to go on? Not too out of breath?”
Missy pats her dad on the arm. “It’s fine, Dad. I’ve got this.”
The orchestra and vocalists file off for the short intermission and you follow close behind, mentally trying to work out how to cover up the missing solo in the second half of the show.
And there they are. Missy, silently practicing on her silver trumpet, while Marcus, wearing a dark green sweater with a Fair Isle pattern around the yoke, stands with his arms folded and what can only be described as a look of sheer anxiety on his face.
“You’re here! You’re okay! I mean, uh… you made it!”
Marcus looks up at the sound of your voice and shrugs apologetically. “I’m so sorry, it was…work stuff, I can’t… I’m so sorry, is it still okay for Missy to perform? She’s worked so hard and -”
Instinctively, you place a reassuring hand on his forearm. He feels warm and solid under the soft yarn.
“Breathe, Marcus. Of course she’s performing. I’m just so happy you’re both here.”
He unfolds his arms, visibly relaxing, and lightly touches your shoulder. “I’m happy we’re here, too.”
Is he…blushing?
Missy’s solo is, as expected, a triumph. She plays better than she’s ever done before, the house erupting in applause as the piece ends and she takes a special bow.
You have a little break now from conducting duties, as the orchestra remains on stage while a couple of students from the drama club perform extracts from A Christmas Carol. You return backstage to get a drink of water, and find Marcus standing behind the black curtains serving as a backdrop, peeking through and beaming with pride and delight at his daughter.
“She’s wonderful, Marcus.”
He nods as you stand beside him. “She is. But she has a great teacher, too. You’ve been so important to us - I mean, to her - the last few years.”
Now it’s your turn to feel heat rise through your body as you become aware of just how close you are to him, of the feelings that refuse to go away, no matter how much you try to suppress them.
Even in the semi-darkness, you can see how he’s looking at you from behind his glasses. Warm. Kind. And…wanting?
There’s no one else around. Everyone else is either on stage or in the auditorium.
You move closer simultaneously, leaning in and inclining your head in anticipation of what you think - hope - is about to happen. And then those big, broad hands are caressing your face and cradling it as his plush lips meet yours, his moustache a little ticklish against the soft skin of your mouth, and your arms wrap around Marcus’s broad body as his kiss intensifies.
The student acting as narrator is declaiming how Ebenezer Scrooge was a second father to Tiny Tim - who did not die - as Marcus Moreno holds you tight and kisses you. Even Dickens couldn’t top this.
And then you forget, for an instant, where you are. Marcus shifts just a little too much to the right, you move with him, and with a thundering crash the backdrop falls from the rigging to the floor, exposing the two of you wrapped around each other.
The kid playing Tiny Tim isn’t going to let anything interrupt his big moment, not even the music teacher making out with a literal superhero on stage during the big holiday concert. As the auditorium gasps, the orchestra swivels and stares, and Missy slumps forward and groans, he doesn’t miss a beat as he throws his arms wide and proclaims: “God bless us, every one!”
#a merry fic-mas#holiday fic calendar#marcus moreno#marcus moreno fanfiction#marcus moreno fanfic#marcus moreno x f!reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal
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A/N: Happy Valentines Day to you all! Enjoy some Densi.
***
We’ll Make Our Own Fun
“That was fun,” Kensi said, glancing at Rosa briefly as she turned onto Roberta’s street.
“Yes, thank you for coming with me.” Rosa held up her hand, examining her fingernails, currently adorned with a pink and white striped design. “I feel very fancy.”
“Good. I’m glad you enjoyed your first manicure.” She parked in front of Roberta’s house, which was completely lit from inside. “I can’t remember the last time I got one. Maybe our wedding.”
“Well, now you’re all ready for Valentine’s Day,” Rosa told her cheerfully.
Kensi snorted. “Yeah, Deeks and I have never had the best luck when it comes to celebrating holidays. Caleb and Sophia won’t exactly increase the romance.” She held up a finger, even though Rosa hadn’t looked ready to object. “Not that I would change anything.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to enjoy the evening.” Smiling, Rosa opened the passenger door. “Oh, Roberta asked me to help her move some boxes, so I might not be home before Steven picks me up.”
“Ok, well have fun, be safe, and tell Steven we say hi. Call if you need anything,” Kensi said, leaning over to give Rosa a hug.
“I will.”
Out of habit, Kensi waited until Rosa was actually inside before pulling out of the driveway. It took approximately a minute to drive to their house, which was about 20 seconds longer than Roberta on foot thanks to her various shortcuts.
She came in through the back door, and the first thing she registered was the relative quiet. The second was the scent of rich spices permeating the air.
“Deeks,” Kensi called out, slowly walking from the kitchen into the dining room. She stilled just inside the entrance, her mouth dropping open slightly as she took in the candle lit room, table set with their finest dishes, Deeks standing to the side. “Deeks,” she repeated more softly.
“Surprise,” he said, crossing over to her. He took her hands, gently drawing her towards the table.
“What is all this?” It was fairly obvious, but Kensi felt vaguely stupid right now. She’d anticipated walking in to the twins needing something, not a romantic dinner.
“Your Valentine’s present.”
“I thought the spa session was my present,” Kensi said, narrowing her eyes as a suspicion began to build.
“The manicure was just a ploy to get you out of the house for a couple hours,” Deeks explained. “Rosa was extremely happy and eager to assist.”
Kensi recalled Rosa checking her phone periodically throughout their nail appointment. She’d assumed she was testing Steven, or a friend, but she’d likely been giving Deeks updates.
“Rosa’s interference aside, how did you have time to decorate and cook a meal in two and a half hours?”
“Well, mom watched the oven a couple of times when the twins needed something.”
“Baby, this is amazing. I can’t believe you planned all this for me,” Kensi murmured, wrapping her arms around him, and laying her cheek on his chest. She stayed there for a few moments, then tipped her head back to kiss him.
“I figured we deserved to celebrate for once. Especially with how crazy the last year has been,” he said. Squeezing her tightly for a few seconds, he slid his hands down to hers, guiding her to the table.
He lifted the lid off Kensi’s plate with a flourish. “For my lady bird, we have authentic carnitas—or as close as I could get it with Rosa’s help—with a side of refried beans, and as much guacamole as your heart desires,” Deeks declared, gesturing to the large plate.
Kensi’s mouth watered as she stared at the perfect looking tacos. She licked her bottom lip, considering the food, then Deeks for a moment. He was wearing her favorite shirt and pants; the ones that seemed to drive all sane thought from her head.
“Where are Caleb and Sophia?” she asked, dropping her voice as though they might hear her.
“Sleeping. I got them down about 20 minutes ago.”
“Good.” She took his hand, dragging him away from the table.
“Woah, Kens, don’t you want to eat?” he asked, sounding completely confused. She paused, turning to face him.
“I do. It look absolutely phenomenal baby, but Rosa is out for the next few hours, the twins are sleeping, and…I’d like to take advantage of this unforeseen opportunity.” She dropped her eyes to travel down Deeks’ body, straightening his collar.
He fixed her with one eye, his mouth open in an incredulous laugh. “Kensi, you’re not…are you sure that’s a good idea this soon?”
Sighing, Kensi pressed her forehead against his cheek. It just made her want him even more. “Ok, maybe we shouldn’t have sex just yet, but I’m sure we can find something fun to do. Unless you don’t want to.”
Deeks chuckled, shaking his head to deny the suggestion. Pulling her closer, he cradled her cheeks, kissing her deeply enough that Kensi’s entire body felt like it might combust. “The food can wait,” he decided, when he pulled away.
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ANOTHER PART T^T
sorry for the late update!!! exams were ROUGH!! anyways wish u all a very happy holiday!!! (im so happy i got this out by christmas)
hero vs domesticity 4
part 3
When the hero was still working she’d never been allowed to watch movies, read books, or even listen to much music. She was carefully kept away and secret. So when the villain had begun to show her his favourite war documentaries and action movies she was a bit unentertained, if not traumatized. The villain came home one day with an odd array of movies and they had pulled an all-nighter to watch every one. Her favourite ones were romance movies the villain snoozed through. Movies with period costumes, old-timey talk, and handsome men in puffy-sleeved shirts. She couldn’t hide her blush at every scene with a brush of hands or subtle banter. He always explained how unrealistic it is to be in love that quick. Hero couldn’t be more glad he was wrong.
The villain began to sit closer during movie nights and came home earlier to help her cook, but what really got her were the hands on her lower back as she stirred a pot of soup, or how he fidgeted with her fingers at the breakfast table. Sometimes- if hero was lucky- he’d get close and whisper an inside joke about a stranger in public, he’d grab her arm to lead her around new places, and on two occasions he would give her more kisses on her cheek.
The first was the day after the incident he was walking out of the door in a rush and gave her a peck on the cheek without thinking. The second time they were serparting to their bedrooms as villain leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Let’s just say the hero was tossing and turning, red as a cherry, in her bed that night. Hero had not once mentioned it, and neither had the villain- but that didn’t stop the little something from growing between them.
Today the villain found hero looking for ingredients for dinner when he swooped in just in time. “I was thinking we could go out tonight.”
“...Out?” hero asked timidly, putting back the pasta into the pantry.
“It’s Christmas Eve, don’t get me wrong, I love your cooking, but let me treat you for once.”
“Oh. That’s so sweet. But um. I don’t have anything nice to wear out…”
“You look beautiful as you are, hero.” The hero turned beet red. “But if getting you a nice dress means I can spoil you more, I say we go shopping.”
At the first shop, villain had to point out dresses to her, Hero would shyly say yes or no until the villain got a sense of what her taste was. He decided she’d probably go for a more modest dress in softer colors, perhaps a puffy sleeve. They went into a different shop and the hero lit up, villain smirked as he knew he hit the jackpot. The shop was filled with nice ladies that suggested dresses of pinks and light blues, the dresses were mid length and hero’s eye was caught on a dress with a sweetheart neckline, long sleeves and in the exact shade of midnight blue as the villain’s uniform. Villain pretended not to notice.
Dinner was delicious, if a bit messy. The night consisted of touching elbows and fingers, playing footsie under the table and reminiscing on old memories. But if you asked the villain all he’d remember was Hero’s eyes peering up at him like stars.
“I hope you know I regret that night very much.” the villain said as he hooked his arm around the hero, leaving the restaurant. The hero laughed.
“The night we met?”
“Ah, but not in that way. Since I didn’t know you, I acted as if you were just another obstacle. In a way, I’m glad you were.”
“An obstacle?”
“Yes, but perhaps that was your way of trying to get my attention.” He flirted, gaining another laugh from hero.
They walked in silence, only hearing the crunch of snow under them as they made their way back home. The weather was perfect, and the hot chocolate they stopped by was still warm in their hearts, but hero found she preferred other ways of warming her heart. She hung on tighter to the villain as they crossed into city hall and looked at all the lights and the great big tree in the middle. Hero had seen the tree many times before, but this was the first time she noticed how beautiful it truly looked, hero was hypnotised by the beauty of it but villain couldn’t take his eyes off her. With a smile, he turned her so they were facing each other.
“Can I say something?” The hero could only nod. “I didn’t get you a present this year. But I promise, if you stay, I’ll get you double the amount next Christmas.” Hero’s heart skipped a beat.
“You want me to stay?”
“Of course I want you to stay, I thought I made that really clear.” The villain looked genuinely confused.
“Clear?” the hero whispered out, making him chuckle and pull her in just a bit closer.
“Hero, oh love, have I been neglecting you?” He held her the same way he did at the Christmas market, except this time hero couldn’t stay up due to her paying attention to nothing but the villain. Her eyes stared up at him as her mitten covered hands rested on his chest, her cheeks were rosy and her nose was beginning to colour too. Villain wrapped his arm around her, keeping her close as he pulled a strand of her hair back. He looked around real quick, the plaza almost empty of people and more so of mistletoe. He smirked back at the hero who followed his eyes. “No mistletoe this time.” Hero shrugged as her smile grew. The villain leaned down and planted a kiss on hero’s soft and cherry flavoured lips. Hero, although inexperienced and timid, let villain take the lead and hold her even closer. Her mind was floating and in complete bliss that she so easily forgot herself that she slipped on the ice covered ground. The villain caught her in time before the dress touched the ground. After laughing the villain, for good measure, picked her up and carried her all the way home, like a blushing bride after her wedding. Hero showered the villain with kisses the entire way home until he finally dropped her in front of their home’s front door.
“By the way- I lied.”
“Lied?” hero asked, still hand in hand with the villain.
“I’m a villain. It’s what I do.”
“Well what’d you lie about?” Hero asked timidly, heart so very anxious.
“About the present.” He smiled as he opened the door, and the hero's present quickly introduced himself was the cutest, little, bouncing puppy. The golden thing quickly wagged his tail at hero’s legs, excited to meet his owner. “Merry Christmas” the villain said.
“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! I can’t believe it! You got me a puppy! He’s so cute! What’s his name?” She asked as the villain led her into the house and began taking off her coat.
“The shelter called him Bo, but I’m sure you can change it.”
The hero held up the puppy and took a second to analyze him, strangely enough, the puppy seemed to be regarding her in the same way. “No, Bo is perfect.” She hugged the puppy as she scooted closer to the villain. “Thank you! So much! I’ve always wanted a puppy!” The villain planted another kiss on her
“Of course, but you have to promise to walk him, feed him, clean after him. A very very normal person thing to do.” The hero giggled, returning to kiss him again and again until the puppy barked for attention.
After settling down the hero and villain plopped on the couch to watch some cheesy Christmas movie they weren’t paying attention to between the kissing and new puppy. As the movie came to end so did the night, Hero decided curling up on the villain's chest was far more comfier than her bed and they both quickly fell asleep with their puppy right next to them and the fireplace crackling.
The next morning the hero woke up to the first of many totally normal breakfasts, and had a totally normal day, with their totally normal puppy as a totally normal girlfriend. In a while, the hero would try even more new hobbies, such as getting a totally normal job with totally normal friends, and in due time she became a totally normal wife and soon after a totally normal mother, all throughout an amazing, love filled and happy life, and each year, her totally normal Christmases became treasures that got better and better each year as the love between the hero and villain became totally normal and yet so, so much better.
part 1 part 2
#villain x hero#hero x villain#writing#criticism welcome#original fiction#merry christmas#happy holidays
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Did I spend this morning rereading A Dream Come True again?
Yep. Zero regrets.
I wouldn’t object to peek ins on them if the urge ever hit to write more on this just saying 👀🫶🏻
this is very sweet and I am so very glad that you enjoyed it! because, well...
mastermind - jt compher
Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f) - A Dream Come True universe
Word Count: ~1.8K
Author’s Note: I’m sorry Ghost lol
Warnings: references to sex, implied smut, language, the usual banter; otherwise, just some ~relationship development~ and an update on my fav duo ♥️🐙
link to series masterlist
January 2024
The email lies buried beneath the myriad of holiday marketing newsletters you ignored and let build up in your inbox. Sales that have long since passed, codes like ‘HOLIDAY20’ and ‘HAPPYNYE’ expired from stores you shopped at once and never unsubscribed from the marketing.
It’s a Wednesday evening, and you’re sitting on the couch doing your best to mass delete the influx of unread emails from the past three months after receiving the notification that your storage is running low. A knit blanket covers your legs, and the scent of tobacco and teakwood drifts to you from the candle on your coffee table.
“What’re you giggling about over here?”
JT’s low timbre echoes behind you, the sound followed by the soft padding of his feet as he approaches the couch with a bowl of popcorn. His favorite nighttime snack, you’ve grown to learn over the past three months, so you started stocking your pantry with a box.
You aren’t sure exactly when things became so domestic and natural with him, only blissfully aware of the steady thump of your heart in your chest when his texts come through or the warmth that fills you whenever he kisses you. You’ve managed to get comfortable with his presence, craving it the same way you crave a sweet snack before bed, but you’re still adjusting to the idea that this is real. That he’s still here, returning to your bed, dutifully—eagerly—after every road trip.
Every time, he’ll sigh, find solace in the warmth of your arms, press his lips against your skin. He’ll fuck you, God, he’ll fuck you; somehow never failing to reveal a new place inside of you that blooms pleasure. Your body has never sang the way it does for JT, expertly coaxing melodies out of you that you didn’t know you knew.
But sometimes, he just lays, content to feel your warmth against his, head resting heavy on your chest until his breathing becomes steady and sleep takes him. His expression softens, hair falling out of its styled coif, wrinkles settling into the lines of his t-shirt—if he hasn’t already removed it. In those moments, you defy the heaviness of your eyelids to simply gaze at him, memorizing the shape of him in your bed, curled up against you underneath the blankets that will forever be embedded with his scent.
You can’t decide which you like more.
“I just got an email inviting me to the Toast of Hockeytown event in February,” you reply, accepting the weight of him on the cushion beside you before you steal a kernel from his bowl—your bowl. “‘Fans can look forward to enjoying live entertainment, culinary delights, drinks, and desserts while mingling with the entire Red Wings team, coaches, select alumni, and other local celebrities.’”
JT hums. “Sounds like an event you can’t miss. A chance to meet them?”
“I better make sure I wear my nicest dress. One that really shows off the goods, don’t you think?”
“Definitely,” he agrees, eyes flicking to your chest—though it’s covered by a t-shirt, you can feel the heat from his gaze. “Think maybe you’ll get to fuck one of them?”
Laughter bubbles out of your mouth and you shove his arm at his crass joke. “It would be a good opportunity to try and snag someone’s number.”
“Oooh, maybe Larkin? He’s dreamy.”
“Nah, he’s too popular,” you shake your head. “Can’t aim so high as the captain. Gotta go for lower-hanging fruit. Maybe one of the new guys. Ghosty, you think?”
There’s the briefest flash in JT’s eyes that you would’ve missed had you not been watching for it. You catch it, though, smug with yourself that you’ve one-upped him at his own game.
“Heard his dick is small.” He feigns indifference, but you see the glint in his eyes. Your favorite eyes.
“You really want me thinking about Ghost’s dick?”
JT shrugs. “I’m the one sitting on your couch eating your popcorn. And I’m gonna be the one in your bed later.”
Check mate. The nonchalance paired with his confidence makes you weak—he’s right, and he knows it. You could have every one of them fawning over you, and you’d still pick him, every time. Once the joke falls and the silence settles, the sound of the Brooklyn 99 intro plays softly on the television in front of you.
As your mouse hovers over the ‘delete’ button, you’re reminded of the similar event you attended over two years ago—the one that led you to the man sitting beside you. You reminisce on how you spent days deciding on what to wear, even going so far as to get your hair blown out beforehand. Looking back, you’re a bit embarrassed at the effort, but as you feel the warmth of JT’s leg pressed against yours, you think to yourself it was worth it.
“I came to Denver specifically to meet you,” you blurt out, then freeze when you realize what you’ve just admitted to. Your heart thuds in your chest, the sound almost deafening in your ears as he pauses, three kernels of popcorn in his fingers halfway to his mouth.
Testing a glance at him, you’re surprised to see him pop each puff between his lips, one by one, taking his time chewing. Then, “I know.”
“You know?”
“You kn—the entire time?”
“The entire time.”
A sigh accompanied by a tidal wave of relief washes over you. If he knew, and was still here, it couldn’t have bothered him that much. “Do I want to know how?”
“Jus’ know,” he says with another shrug. Then your favorite glimmer shines in the warm chocolate of his eyes, the kind when he’s really feeling the banter. You love him like this. “You’re a bit of a whore when you’re desperate.”
“Joseph!”
An auburn eyebrow raises and he smirks. “You really gonna argue with me on that?”
Your silence is an answer enough, accompanied by flits of how he’s had you begging him on more than one occasion; you resist the urge to smack him at the smug ‘I told you so’ expression on his stupid, handsome face. “You’re not… creeped out?”
“Told you already,” he says around another mouthful of popcorn. “M’flattered. I think it’s cute.”
Heat simmers in your cheeks as you tell yourself you have no reason not to believe him; he’s still there, still eating popcorn out of the faded, red bowl you got from Target when you moved into your dorm at U of M.
It’s another few moments before he says something that catches you off guard.
“I came for you.”
There’s an air of hesitation about him, like maybe he’s been mulling it over as he finishes the last few bites of popcorn before offering you the remaining kernels in the bottom of the bowl. A peace offering, maybe, like he wants to even the playing field now that you’ve confessed something so private. Funny how this isn’t the first time this has happened to you with regards to him.
“What?”
“That night. At Tin Roof.” The second time we met.
“I know you did. You were inside me.”
JT smiles at your snark, a spark glinting in his eye as if he’s replaying the memory in his head. “No, I mean… I suggested that bar to the guys because I knew you were there.”
“What are you talking about?”
He clears his throat. “After we met—the first time—I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to find you. I kept waiting to get a tagged photo from you, but never did, so… I started combing through my followers.”
Your eyebrows raise, heart swelling at the idea of making such an impact on him that he’d go through such an effort to find you.
“It took me awhile, but I finally found you,” he continues. “Imagine my disappointment when you were private.”
You hum, waiting with baited breath to hear the rest of his story. The memory of posting the photo of you and him comes to mind, his hand placement just visible on your side that gives you butterflies to this day, despite him having touched you far more intimately since then.
“I’d check back once in awhile whenever you crossed my mind. Still, private. I even made a habit of checking my DM’s in case you decided to message me after we won the Cup.”
“Hard to get,” you tease with a smile. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”
His eyes glint again, acknowledging your quip—because you sure fucking have kept him on his toes. “And then I got a call from Steve Yzerman.”
The breath in your lungs stands still.
“We talked—and I loved what he had to say, don’t get me wrong; Detroit really had been on my radar for awhile—but after I hung up the phone, I went to check your page. Figured it couldn’t hurt. And you weren’t private anymore. And, by all accounts, you appeared to be single.”
You’re doing your best to keep your jaw from resting on the floor, absorbing his candid confession with no shortage of disbelief. Part of you wonders if this is a long, elaborate play to tease you for how you lusted after him.
“Saw the picture of us,” he adds. “And the caption, too.”
A grin breaks out onto your face at his reference. It had been funny at the time, so far-fetched, unthinkable that the contrast between then and now hits you in the chest. Call me JT xoxo, it had said.
“Thought you said I wasn’t the reason you signed.”
“You were… encouraging,” he says with a smirk. You don’t miss the way his eyes dart down to your body. You don’t expect he meant for you to miss it.
As tempted as you are to take that concupiscent gaze and use it to quell the heat that’s simmering between your legs, you can’t resist probing just a little more to see what else you can glean out of him. “So… the bar?”
“Oh, right,” he blinks, like he forgot he was telling a story; you can practically see the dirty images conjured in his eyes as they float away. “Pretty straightforward, really—before we went out that night, I checked your story, on a whim. You tagged the bar.”
“Joseph Taylor Compher, were you stalking me?”
For the first time, a tinge colors the pretty ivory of his cheeks and his expression turns… bashful? “Does it count as stalking if it’s on your public page?”
“I’m sure the police might have something different to say,” you shoot back with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s only if I harassed you,” JT says. “And I’m pretty confident I did quite the opposite of that.”
He nudges your knee playfully, and you roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you blew my mind, whatever, whatever.”
“You blew mine too, baby,” he adds, the tinge of huskiness in his voice undeniable. “But you knew that.”
And later, after he’s thoroughly appreciated your travel efforts to Denver, when your cheek is pressed against the warm skin on his chest, you whisper, “I can’t believe you were playing 4D chess this entire time.”
“What can I say? I’m a mastermind.”
#a dream come true#jt compher fic#jt compher fanfic#nhl imagine#nhl fic#hockey fic#jt compher x reader#anon asks
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Home for Christmas
Summary: Richard returns home from Boston for the holidays and spends his first Christmas with Lorelei.
Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)
Word Count: 4.4k
Rating: E
A/N: Hi everyone! I want to apologize for not posting much and not updating my fics in months. Real life got in the way, but I hope you will be pleased to know that I am definitely not abandoning my works, including Office Hours. As a little treat, here is a short and fluffy Christmas fic with your two favourite professors while you wait for the next chapter. 💙
My heart swells with relief and excitement at the sound of keys being inserted into the lock, and I rush to the front door just in time to see Richard stepping over the threshold, his cheeks red from the cold but his smile reflecting the love shining in his eyes. He barely has time to drop his bags onto the floor and close the front door before I jump into his arms, but his relieved laugh tells me he does not mind; it has not been that long since we saw each other last, but even just three weeks is too long for us to bear.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” I breathe out as I bury my face in the crook of his neck, which is cold against my cheeks despite the thick scarf that should have kept him warm.
Richard squeezes me tight, one of his arms wrapped around my waist while the other caresses my hair. “Me too. More than you know.”
His voice is heavy with longing, so I squeeze him tight, reminding him that he is home now and he need not think about our separation anymore. At least not for a few weeks. The time will pass too quickly, but for now, I focus on the thought of our first Christmas together.
Looking up to meet his eyes, I stand on my tiptoes and press a tender kiss on his lips, revelling in the familiar coarseness of his beard against my cheeks. When, a few moments later, I begin to pull away, Richard tightens his hold on me and deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping between my parted lips and kindling a deep need inside me. But as much as I want to give in and let him carry me to the bedroom, I have other plans in mind.
“Come on,” I say between pecks as I slowly pull away.
Richard frowns, and the lust darkening his eyes almost makes me give in. “Why are you putting on your coat?”
I smile. “Because we are going to get our Christmas tree!”
He stares at me as though hoping I am joking, but when he realizes I am serious, he chuckles. “Sweetheart, I just got here—can’t it wait?”
“Oh, sorry—I’m excited and I was hoping you wouldn’t be too tired after your flight.”
“I’m not really tired,” he says, closing the space between us once more. “But after three weeks apart, I was hoping I’d get to take you upstairs and have my way with you all night long.”
I shiver at the rumbling tone with which he speaks these words and swallow hard. “Well, you will get to do that, but right now it’s still the afternoon,” I reply playfully, and he raises his eyebrows. “Come on! You made me wait for you to come home before decorating and now it’s already December 15th and there’s not a single Christmas decoration in the house!” Richard tries to hide his smile but fails. “I promise we will have lots of sex all night long—if we go get our Christmas tree now. I even got new lingerie for the occasion…” I say as I teasingly run a hand down his chest.
“You’re cruel to mention new lingerie,” he groans, and I giggle as I press a fleeting kiss against his jaw. “Alright, fine. Let’s go get our Christmas tree—but only because I don’t want you to be thinking about the tree while I make love to you.”
“I’m just excited!” I laugh. “It’s our first Christmas together.”
Richard smiles. “I know.” For a fleeting moment, I think of last Christmas, when I thought I had ruined everything and he would never again hold me in his arms and look at me with the tenderness that now fills his eyes, but the soft kiss we share is a reminder that all that is in the past and it cannot affect our love for each other.
After a few more kisses, we make our way to the car, and we share good laughs on our way to the Christmas market in the city centre. Finding a good parking spot takes us a while, but nothing can dampen my spirits. Christmas is my favourite holiday, and I am very excited to share this special time with Richard for the first time.
Hand in hand, we meander through the market, the chill in the air forgotten in the warmth of our love and the festive atmosphere surrounding us. The market is a bustling hub of activity, with families, couples, and friends all wrapped up in coats and scarves, sipping hot chocolate and eating roasted nuts while admiring the array of holiday decorations on display. We stop at a stall adorned with delicate, handcrafted ornaments glimmering under the soft glow of fairy lights and pick out two ornaments—a delicate silver snowflake and a glimmering pale green bauble—to commemorate our first Christmas. Then, we follow the twinkling lights toward the Christmas trees; the sight of the evergreens fills me with childlike excitement, and I tug on Richard’s arm as my eyes scan the selection of trees in search of the perfect one.
“How about this one?” Richard suggests, and I turn around to see him eyeing a tree that is only as tall as he is.
“It’s too small.”
“You think?”
“Yes—you’re as tall as that tree!”
“But I’m 6’2,” he chuckles.
“You can’t be as tall as the tree!” I exclaim and drag him away toward taller trees. “Besides, what’s the point of having high ceilings like we do if you don’t get the biggest tree?”
We playfully argue as we make our way through the rows of Christmas trees, hand in hand.
“Alright, how about this one, then? You can’t say this one is too small.”
I follow Richard's gaze to a majestic, tall Norway spruce, its branches lush and green, and gasp. To ensure it is tall enough for my taste, Richard holds it up next to him, then stretches to touch the top, causing me to giggle.
“It’s perfect!” I say, clapping my hands together in excitement.
With big smiles, we approach the friendly vendor, a bearded man in a yellow knitted hat, and he compliments us on our choice of tree before helping Richard load it onto the car. As we drive back home with our prized Christmas tree tied to the roof of the vehicle, a sense of joy and anticipation fills the air.
***
As we drive back from the market, the sun begins to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the city’s famous spires. My fingers are stiff from the cold as we arrive home and untie the tree from the car, but thankfully, inside the house, it is warm, and we hasten to shrug off the layers that protected us from the chill.
“So, where do you usually put your tree?” I ask as we bring the spruce into the living room, fallen needles tracing our path through the house.
“Well, I usually just get a small one and put it on the accent table near the window.”
“What? You mean you didn’t get a full-size tree?” I ask in incredulity as we rest the tree against the wall.
Richard shrugs as he unboxes the tree stand. “No. It’s always such a busy time of the year at the college, and I always spend Christmas at my parents’ anyways, so I just didn’t really decorate.”
I frown. “Do you not love Christmas? Oh, God—I’m in a relationship with the Grinch!”
Richard bursts out laughing and shakes his head. “No, I love Christmas. I just…”
“What?”
“For years, I didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. Christmas was just another reminder that I was alone and didn’t have a family of my own.”
“Richard…”
He offers me a soft, lopsided smile and pulls me into his arms. “It’s okay—it was all worth it, in the end. I’ve got you now.”
I return his smile and squeeze him tight. “I’m going to spoil you rotten,” I say, causing him to chuckle. “And we can do whatever you want. If you want to go back to the Christmas market, go ice skating, bake cookies—you name it and we’ll do it!”
“The only thing I’m really interested in doing right now is you,” he says with a smirk as his eyes darken.
Laughing, I playfully slap his arm, though the low rumble of his voice sends a shiver down my spine. “We have to decorate the tree first!”
“If I had known I’d end up being second to that tree for the holidays…”
I give him a teasing glare before taking the stand from him. It takes us a while to find a perfect spot for the tree—just in front of the bookshelves and window where it is still visible from outside without blocking our view—and an even longer while to ensure the tree is straight and secure it in the stand. I waste no time before excitedly opening the boxes of decorations in search of lights while Richard puts on some holiday music.
“Richard, I’m gonna need your help with the lights—I’m not tall enough to reach the top.”
As Frank Sinatra’s voice floats through the room, Richard takes the lights from my hands and begins to set them on the branches. Though I appreciate his help, I cannot help but grimace.
“Hm, try to start a little higher and closer to the trunk so we don’t see the wire as much.”
Richard rearranges the light and turns to me. “Better?”
I eye the tree attentively, not wanting to annoy him but wanting the tree to be perfect. “It’s a little better, yes. But try to get more lights in the centre. If they’re just at the tips of the branches, it won’t look as nice.”
“Alright,” he says, frowning in concentration as he revises his work once more, but then, as if sensing my disapproving frown, he turns around and sighs, though his eyes are soft with amusement. “You do it then.”
I am about to remind him I cannot reach the top when he lifts me into his arms, and I squeal in surprise.
“Don’t drop me,” I chuckle as I get to work.
Richard smiles. “Don’t worry—I’ve got you.”
He holds me tight as I wrap the lights around the top of the tree, carefully deciding on which branches the lights should hang and making sure the spacing is even. After Richard sets me down, we work together to illuminate the bottom; the tree is so tall we barely have enough lights, but it is still the most beautiful tree ever, especially when we begin to place the ornaments. Here, too, Richard needs a little guidance on where to place the decorations, but he learns quickly. The delicate snowflake and the glimmering bauble we picked out earlier at the market shine in places of honour among other glass baubles and handmade ornaments from our childhoods, carrying a nostalgic charm.
A while later, we turn off the lights in the house to admire our work, and the two of us grin like children as the tree glimmers in the darkness, the mutlicoloured lights dancing in our eyes.
“It’s beautiful!” Richard says with a wide smile as he pulls me into his arms.
“It is!” I concur though I cannot help but fixate on a certain golden bauble near the bottom of the tree that is slightly too close to its neighbour. “Although—”
When I step toward the tree and move the ornament, Richard scoffs in mock disbelief. “Hey!”
I giggle and bite my bottom lip in embarrassment. “Don’t you think it looks better there?”
Without even looking at the tree, Richard says, “I thought decorating the tree was supposed to be a team effort.”
“It is! You suggested a position for the ornment and I then followed up with a different suggestion—teamwork!”
He shakes his head, though fondness shines in his eyes. “You are an impertinent lass, Lorelei Browning.” His teasing words are accompanied by a pinch of my bum.
I offer him an innocent smile and shrug playfully. “Alright, now where should we hang the stockings?”
“Hold on—I thought the deal was tree then sex?”
“Well, the stockings are in the ornament boxes we already opened, so it only makes sense to hang those now,” I say, feigning innocence as he groans and presses a lingering kiss on my neck. “So where should we hang them?”
“On the mantle,” Richard replies as if there is no other option, though he does not remove his hand from my hip. He groans again when I move away from him, and I struggle to hold back my smile as I secure the stockings on the mantle. “Now all that’s missing is a nice fire,” Richard muses.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” I respond with a smile, causing him to chuckle as he reaches for the stack of wood. “Alright, done!” I say, stepping back to admire my work.
Richard’s stocking is slightly larger than mine, and the deep burgundy velvet with golden embroidery is in stark contrast to the fading fabric of the stocking I have owned since I was a child. A hand-knit snowman grins from one corner, secured to the stocking with different coloured threads from the repairs made by my mum over the years that only add to its charm.
“Well, they don’t quite match,” I point out with a chuckle. “But I think they look great.”
Richard looks up from his growing fire and smiles. “We can get matching ones next Christmas.”
Warmth floods my heart at the casualness and certainty with which he speaks of our future, and I smile as I sit close to him by the fire.
“Yes, next Christmas,” I say, and we seal the promise with a tender kiss, thinking of all the Christmases we hope to spend together in years to come.
Time seems to stand still as I lose myself in the pleasure of his mouth. One kiss becomes two, then three, our mouths soft and open as our tongues lazily tangle together, and as he wraps one strong arm around my waist and brings me closer, he pulls away just enough to say, “Please tell me you won’t make me decorate anymore tonight.”
Giggling, I press a fleeting kiss on the tip of his nose and shake my head. “No more decorating tonight.”
He offers me a soft smile, and I melt as I gaze back into his loving eyes, which reflect the flames in the hearth and the glimmering lights of the Christmas tree behind me. The fire turns his skin golden and dances in the waves of his dark hair, urging me to caress it as I lean in for another series of deep, all-consuming kisses that kindle a fervent need inside me.
With a gentle yet firm touch, Richard guides me down to the plush rug. Neither of us seems to care that it would take no time at all to reach our bed; the longing and frustration built up over three weeks apart, combined with the day’s teasing and lingering touches, fill our movements with a passionate urgency and leave us desperate for the pleasure to come. Even the short walk to our bedroom is too long a delay to savour each other now.
Richard holds himself up on one forearm while his other hand caresses my curves over my jumper. Then, as his hand dips lower, slipping under the wool to caress my naked skin, his lips trace a sensuous path down my neck, circling but never settling on the sensitive spot he knows drives me wild. Whimpering, I tighten my hold on his hair and try to guide him, but he merely chuckles and pulls back.
“So impatient,” he whispers playfully, then finally gives in to my silent pleas and gently bites the sensitive spot below my ear, causing me to arch under him as pleasure floods my core.
Swallowing back another whimper, I lick my lips and say, “I think I’ve been patient enough over the past few weeks.” I had meant this playfully, but now he looks up to meet my gaze, and in his tender blue eyes, guilt and the pain of separation are clear, tugging at my heart.
With a soft smile, I cradle his bearded face with one hand and slip the other under his shirt to caress his back, wanting to hold him, all of him, and touch him and love him because now we are together. And when we are together, everything is alright. I try to tell him as much with my next kiss, and his response is equally tender and hungry, as if he is reassuring himself that I am truly here, in his arms. The weight of separation slowly melts away with each caress and whispered endearment, and when, at last, he pulls my jumper over my head, revealing my sheer red bra, his eyes shine with more than just lust.
“This is lovely,” he says, his voice thickened by lust, as he traces the outline of a beaded nipple through the sheer fabric, causing me to gasp. “But I think I’d like to see the full set.”
My chuckle turns into a whimper as his fingers brush against my stomach on their way to the buttons of my jeans. I lift my hips to help him, but he is determined to take his time and torture me. With each button he undoes, he presses a lingering kiss on my stomach, and I squirm under him, my heartbeat thrumming between my ears as desire floods my senses. Then, even more slowly, he pulls my jeans down my legs and tosses my socks aside before sitting on his knees, annoyingly out of reach. His eyes roam over every inch of my body, lingering on my barely covered breasts and the equally sheer knickers that do nothing to conceal my arousal. Richard smiles to himself, and as though he cannot hold himself back, he reaches out to stroke the little red bow on the scalloped hem of my knickers. My breath hitches in my throat, causing his smirk to grow.
“You do know how to welcome me home,” he chuckles as he lifts his shirt over his head before lowering himself back so that my breasts are flush against his chest. He tenderly traces the line of my jaw with his index, then buries one hand in my hair, all while he presses soft kisses all over my face before claiming my parted lips. “You are so beautiful,” he breathes out between passionate, open-mouthed kisses. “And you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I whisper as he buries his face in the crook of my neck and bites the sensitive skin there before licking the pain away.
His free hand moves down the column of my neck, tracing the line of my collarbone before settling on the swell of one breast. He squeezes gently—too gently—then pulls the sheer cups down to reveal my naked breasts to his hungry gaze. His lips close in on one beaded nipple, then the other, sucking and pulling with his teeth as he pushes one of my thighs aside to press himself flush against me; he is still wearing his jeans, and the roughness of the fabric, combined with his cold and hard belt and even harder arousal, is deliciously rough against me.
“Richard… please…”
“Please what?” he says, but then he slips one hand under the sheer fabric of my knickers and slowly caresses my wet folds, depriving me of the ability to speak.
He grows harder between my thighs as my moans echo through the room, mingling with the crackling of the fire. My blood hums in my veins, and pleasure pools between my thighs as he continues to touch me, rubbing my clit as he slips one long finger inside me, easily finding the spot that turns me into a breathless, mewling puddle. I am already on the edge of my orgasm, but I want him—I need him to fill me and join me in this bliss.
“Please—I need you…” I say breathlessly, struggling to think, let alone form a coherent sentence. “I need you inside me.”
Richard smirks as he hovers over me, his lips teasingly close to mine. He withdraws his hand, leaving me yearning for more, but when I begin to rise and reach out to unbuckle his belt, he rises to his knees and shakes his head.
“Lie back, sweetheart.”
Frowning, I gaze back into his eyes, torn between wanting to touch him and knowing he will not give me what I want if I disobey, but I soon become distracted by the movements of his large hands as he unbuckles his belt. Once he is fully undressed, I wait for him to crawl back into my arms, but instead, he remains where he is and slowly begins to stroke himself. My breath catches at the sight and I lick my lips, almost hypnotized by the way the flickering firelight turns his skin golden and highlights his flexing muscles. The air between us is warm and heavy with desire, and when, at last, he lowers himself above me, a breathless, relieved laugh escapes me.
But he is not quite done teasing me. Gazing deep into my eyes, he drags my knickers down my legs, then grips his hardness and rubs himself against my wetness, teasing my clit. My whole body now aches with the need to touch him, to caress and kiss every inch of his skin, and I squirm under him, trying to increase the friction between us, but he holds me tightly in place with the weight of his body.
“You bastard,” I groan, and he laughs as he presses his lips to mine.
“Now, now—be nice or else you’ll end up on the naughty list,” he says playfully, and I giggle even as the low rumble of his voice sends heat swirling through me.
Laughter still hangs in the air when, finally, he enters me. He moves with deliberate slowness, and I throw my head back as he fills me, inch by delectable inch, only to slide back out almost completely, leaving me painfully empty. He teases me like this a few times before pushing back in all the way, and the deep moan that tumbles from his lips tells me he is done teasing me even before the first thrust that leaves me grasping onto him.
No words are spoken as he thrusts into me, hard claiming thrusts that shake me to my very core, our bodies falling into this familiar dance as if not a day has passed since we were last united in this way. His head is buried in the crook of my neck, and his kisses are interrupted only by his groans. My legs are now wrapped around him, my heels digging into the soft flesh of his bottom as I hold onto his strong shoulders, my nails lightly digging into his skin, and I move in tandem with him as he fills the emptiness that lingered in my heart during our time apart.
With a final, breathless moan, we find release together. I press my thighs against him, my back arching as wave after wave of nearly overwhelming pleasure floods my senses, buzzing incessantly in my core. Richard continues to move inside me until our climaxes subside, then collapses next to me on the rug as our heavy breathing echoes around us. Sometime later, I turn my head to the side and find him staring up at the ceiling, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. Just as I scooch closer to him, he meets my gaze and smiles.
“Could we make this a Christmas tradition?” he asks playfully as he wraps a strong arm around me, pulling me flush against him.
“I think we could do that,” I giggle, reaching out to run my fingers through his tousled hair as his lips meet mine for a languid kiss. “I missed you so much.”
Richard takes a deep breath and squeezes me tight. “I missed you, too, sweetheart. But these past few months went by fast, didn’t they?” I nod slowly. “Before you know it, it’ll be May and this whole thing will be behind us.”
I gulp. “I want you to enjoy this year though. Living in Boston and working on this project—it’s an amazing opportunity,” I say, feeling guilty for wishing time would go faster so he can come home.
“I know—and I am enjoying it,” he reassures me. “But part of me just wants the project to be over so I can come back to Oxford and be with you.” He pauses then, his eyes drifting to the fire behind me, and swallows hard. “I hope you won’t get tired of me before then.”
“Don’t be silly,” I hasten to say, hurt that that thought would cross his mind for even a second. Being in a long-distance relationship is hard for both of us, but it is even harder for him; I know I cannot erase the past, but I desperately wish there was something I could do or say to make his insecurities disappear. “I love you, Richard. And I know just how special what we have is, so I’m not about to give it up anytime soon.”
He smiles softly, his eyes brimming with love as he presses another tender kiss onto my lips. “I love you, too.” Then he reluctantly pulls away, groaning as he stretches. “I have to get up now; I’m a bit old to lie on the floor like that.”
I chuckle, but then my eyes drift to the dimple at the base of his spine and his firm bottom. Despite tremors of release still humming between my legs, desire rushes through me, though I cannot help but laugh when I notice the spruce needles stuck to his back.
Richard chuckles as I brush them off him, then says, “I think round two should take place in the bedroom. What do you think?.”
He does not even wait for my response before scooping me into his arms, and our laughter echoes through the house as he carries me to our bedroom. In the hours that follow, we exchange many more open-mouthed kisses and soft whispers of love as we cling to each other, for at last, no time or distance stands between us.
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#richard armitage#richard armitage fanfic#richard armitage x oc#richard armitage x reader#richard armitage x you#professor au#office hours
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hello there. how is everyone doing? :)
sooooo the year is almost over, and once again, this blog is dryer than my cat's litter. i couldn't really keep my promise from last year LMAO
although my lack of attention to this blog have a reason, i still feel really sad about it, especially when i'm under the pressure of three commissions that i promised myself to finish within this year. so, to the people that have commissioned me their stories, i'm so sorry that i'm taking so long and i very much appreciate your patience and support that you have given to me. <3
as i said in an ask before, i got a way better job than my previous in the middle of this year and i have moved to a different city, which is why a lot of my time have been spent towards work and my irl socials. life is going better for me at least, and that's all that i ever want.
it seems that a lot have changed in our writing community. there's more writers now, stories are being published like almost every single day and the community is growing bigger and bigger each day. as one of the first few writers here, i'm very glad to see where we are right now and i'm excited to see a lot more developments.
goals for next year? same as ever, write more, post more and try not to procrastinate. this post is just another rant of mine and an apology for all of my commissioners. once again, i'm so sorry for the lack of updates and if you're wondering, i'm still working hard on these stories and projects, so please look forward to it. thank you so much for all of your support!
from the bottom of my heart, i wish you all a merry christmas and a very happy holiday! <3
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I totally agree with your latest update on your post about Charles. I saw this meme earlier and it definitely made me think of him. I won’t comment on who I think the first part applies to.
so glad you agree ok cause I am a Charles defender first and human second
and to elaborate on that sentiment like. yes Charles is rude and pretentious and arrogant, he's got flaws, but that's not all he is! boiling him down to just his negative traits no matter any context is just a disservice to his character, both as he comes right from the get-go and the growth he goes through over the course of the series. he's just as complex and layered as anyone else!
honestly after a rewatch im far more sympathetic towards him earlier on than I was on first watch. like, the arrogance and pretentiousness aside, because those are separate- his anger at being at the 4077 is completely justified. he has every right to be angry. this colonel literally sent him near the front of the line because he was a petty asshole who was pissed off about losing bridge. im not saying Charles was behaving particularly sportsman-ly but the colonel was absolutely wrong for that. and like, I get that they needed another surgeon at the 4077 with Frank gone, but Charles also had every right to be angry with Potter for keeping him there. it was fucked up!
but to switch gears to his virtues- not all of Charles' kindness was part of his character development I dont think. him defending the kid with the stutter comes to mind immediately, because we know he felt so passionately about that kid because Honoria has a stutter. there's also Yessir, That's Our Baby- he gets MAD on behalf of the injustice that baby faces! that's big brother instinct, but thats also just. kindness and care. oh, and the patient who loses mobility in his hand and is distraught because he's a pianist, and Charles goes out of his way to get him music he can play with only one hand? his whole speech about how he always wanted to play, but never had the gift? he's so passionate in that one! and of course we cant forget his family's tradition of anonymously donating to people in need around the holidays- for all his family's flaws, ive always loved that detail, and ive always loved that he tried to do it even in Korea. those are just examples off the top of my head, there's absolutely more
and then there's the kindness and care he exhibits as he grows as a character. when Potter reveals to everyone he's the last one of his old friend group still alive, Charles CRIES with them! he's emotional during Millie Carpenter's funeral and Hawkeye's eulogy! just the entirety of Sons and Bowlers, dont even get me started- he stays with Hawkeye the entire time, even when Hawkeye doesnt want him to and tries to chase him off, talks with him and comforts him and opens up to him and is vulnerable with him. the entirety of GFA and his arc there
like yeah Charles isnt always nice he has flaws he's not perfect but he's capable of so much kindness, he's so passionate, and he just cares SO much. he just doesnt show it often! he'll move a mountain for someone even if he would never admit to it! reducing him to just his negative traits is again just such a disservice to his character he's so much more than that
#mash#charles winchester#I love him so much as we can see#ive been thinking about him a lot lately since ive been writing from his POV so much#I was raving about Sons and Bowlers to a friend of mine who doesnt watch MASH#that episode makes me unreasonably emotional#he cares so goddamn much
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