#mark davis x reader
Note
mark davis and
{ 89 } — is this your first time?
{ 39 } — don’t be afraid, it’s just me
{ 70 } — for your safety, i’ll be gentle (jokingly cocky)
• you and i, my dear — mark davis •
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{ masterlists } | { aew masterlist } | { mark davis masterlist }
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{ summary } — being your first time, davis makes sure to do everything in his power to make you feel safe and loved
{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact } virgin!reader, virginity loss, innocence kink, size difference, size kink, praise, stomach bulges, soft sex, body worship, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, male + female orgasms, cumshots, squirting
{ word count } — 1.3k
{ pairing } — fem!reader x mark davis
{ genre } — smut
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{ taglist } — @cosmoholic13 @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @adamjf @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @elsteenerico @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk
{ beta readers } — @allelitesmut + @legit9thlunaticwarrior
{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }
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{ 89 } — is this your first time?
{ 39 } — don't be afraid, it's just me
{ 70 } — for your safety, i'll be gentle
.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.
you sat before him
body void of clothing
the only thing shielding your modesty was a pillow hastily thrown atop your form
you did not meet his gaze
fearful of what he would think
would he enjoy the sight of your body all naked and bare?
or would he find disgust in your flesh
his large fingers gently trapped the edge of the pillow
prying it away slowly, hesitantly
he was scared as well, scared of how you would react to being so exposed before him
you had not divulged to him that you had never been with anyone
although your reaction alone was a dead giveaway
how you shied into yourself
pulling and pressing yourself into the fluffy exterior of the pillow just to shield yourself
embarrassed with tinted warmth rising to your cheeks
he knew your predicament, yet he still decided to ask anyway
“is it your first time?” he questioned
his words filled with a soft almost delicate cadence that you were not too used to hearing
his tone was normally so coarse and loud
you gave a subtle, shy nod
still choosing to wrap your arms around the pillow, providing mental comfort to yourself
“are you scared?”
another nod followed, your voice had gone and made no attempt to make itself heard anytime soon
“oh honey…” he cooed, lightly pulling you into the warmth of his bare chest.
allowing you to succumb into the comfort of his embrace.
“you’re safe with me, sweet girl. i’ll never hurt you”
he hummed sweetly against your hairline, peppering delicate kisses to the skin
“i know…” you responded meekly, still letting yourself melt into him
“look, we don’t have to do anything if you’re not up for it, okay? your safety is my top priority”
his accent rang thick in your ears, that sharp australian twang seemed so comforting at a time like this
peering up to finally meet his gaze, the amount of love that he held behind those russet eyes
“…thank you…”
you were taken aback by his words, exhaling softly with a sight
“but i still want to…y’know…have sex…with you…”
you stammered over your words, trying to sound more confident than your voice entailed
he could not help but smile down at you
“for your safety, i’ll be gentle” he joked, his tone cocky yet playful, pressing another sweet kiss to your forehead
“now…let me see you, sweetheart”
he made no effort to move the pillow from your frame
letting you do it on your own volition when you were ready enough.
he noticed the shaky exhale in your breath, how your fingers trembled around the edge of the pillowcase
“sweetheart” he began softly
you peered up at him through a hazy gaze, eyelashes fluttering softly in response.
“i’m not going to judge you. i love you.”
he hand cupped your cheek daintily, your own hand resting atop the back of his, caressing his knuckles with the tips of your fingers
you let the pillow fall
his gaze never left your eyes, they didn’t need to
he was in awe of your beauty, mouth hung slightly agape with wonder
“you’re so fucking beautiful, my sweet girl”
he leaned in peppering sweet kisses to your hairline
beginning to trail them down your cheeks
then to your lips
he let the kiss linger for a moment
hesitance evident on his breath as his lips barely ghosted yours
you felt the heat in your body rise
felt the adrenaline and arousal surge through you
you took initiative
wrapping your arms around his neck, dragging yourself onto his lap, beginning to straddle him
he was taken aback by the sudden action, the sudden rise in confidence on your part
he smiled into the kiss, growing hard as your hips began to lightly swirl against his
as much as he adored the sight, he’d much rather be the one on top, at least for tonight.
his hands fell to your waist and without breaking the kiss he gently flipped you over
your body now pinned under his
he pulled away momentarily, spreading your legs with his knee as he positioned himself between them.
his cock hard in his palm as he lightly teased your clit with his tip
“you ready?” he questioned, a slight pant in his voice, practically breathless from the kiss
you replied with a small hum and a nod, feeling the heat flush to your cheeks once more.
“use your words sweet girl. i’m not doing anything unless i hear you say it”
his eyes stared so lovingly into yours, so soft and gentle
“y-yes..” you barely managed to squeak out
he smiled softly, planting another gentle kiss to your hairline
“there’s my girl”
his fingers smoothed stray wisps of hair from your eyes, taking the time to admire your beautiful features
“i'm gonna start okay?”
“o-okay..” you breathed out, an anxious sigh left your lips, feeling his tip gently glide against your soaked folds
“hey…” he paused.
“i’m gonna need you to tell me if it hurts okay. i’ll stop if it does”
you stared up at him though hazy eyes, dumbfounded by his comment for a second
“you could never hurt me”
“well…i know but…things like this…” he paused again.
“because it’s your first time i just want to make sure you’re alright”
he hadn’t even done anything but in that moment you’d never felt so loved. so safe beneath him.
you leaned up to sweetly plant a kiss to his lips
feeling yourself blush at the contact
opting to shy away into your hands hastily
regaining your breath for a moment before letting yourself relax
“okay..i’m ready”
he positioned himself over you, his cock barely jutting at your entrance.
“i’ll go slow okay”
you nodded in response. body tensing up awaiting contact
“relax sweetheart. i got you”
he gave a final kiss to the tip of your nose before sliding himself in
you gasped at the feeling. so new so foreign.
instantly adoring the way he stretched you out with ease
arms wrapping around his body, pulling him close
burying your head into the crook of his neck
“don’t be afraid, it’s just me, sweet girl”
he slowly began to move
the thrust of his hips was soft and gentle
he knew he wasn’t going to hurt you but in the back of his mind he was very much afraid that he would
what with the stark size difference between the two of you
he could practically see his size outlined in the pit of your stomach
the sensation took a while to get used to
having to force yourself not to tense up each time he entered you
“you alright?” he’d ask every few thrusts
to which you’d give a soft nod in response
“more” you muttered into his skin
your breath caught in your chest, mixed in with your moans
he complied, increasing his pace the slightest
not to hurt you, just enough to give you that little bit of extra pleasure you so craved
“so fucking good for me, sweetheart” he muttered into your shoulder
wrapping his arms around you, securing you tightly to his chest
“you’re doing so well”
your whines and mutters heightened as he hit every sweet spot inside of you
feeling his cock swell against your tight walls
“fuck-“ you whimpered, slightly panicked. feeling yourself clench and squeeze around his cock
a thick pulse ringing between your thighs
“shhh. it’s okay sweetheart don’t fight it”
his words muffled into your skin.
you let go. sweetness gushing around his cock as your orgasm rushed through you
you’ve never felt such pleasure in your life
it was euphoric
“such a good girl” he growled softly.
he pulled out of you, pumping his cock over your stomach until he spilled over
“oh fuck-“ he grunted, hot ropes of his seed spilled onto your stomach
“shit…look at you” he panted. “you look so beautiful covered in my cum sweetheart”
you blushed at his comment, never feeling more confident that you were able to elicit a reaction like that from him
he leaned down to pepper gentle kisses to your lips
“i’m so fucking proud of you” he muttered between kisses
“i fucking love you”
you hummed a soft response against his lips, reciprocating the sentiment
“let’s get you cleaned up, my sweet girl”
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#{ my fics : 🤍 }#mark davis x reader#mark davis smut#mark davis imagine#mark davis fanfic#aussie open#united empire#aew#wrestling imagine#wrestling smut#aew imagine#aew wrestling#aew fanfiction#aew smut
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Ello! Remember Friendly Alternative Y/n? Can I maybe request Mark introducing them to Thatcher Headcanons? :0 atleast then maybe the police will have instead of a police dog a police alternative XD also the feeling of just imaging protecting Y/n at first from a shocked thatcher is so adorable :0
Thatcher visited the Heathcliff residence one evening under the guise of another "wellness check".
But in reality, he thought there was more to Mark's case than just the simple statement he provided.
Surviving not one but two Alternate attacks might sound like an act of pure luck or divine intervention, yet it didn't seem plausible that this kid could've taken all of them on by himself.
He suspected a third party might've been involved--or something that Mark was unwilling to share with the authorities at the time.
The lieutenant figured he'll be able to answer the questions he didn't get to ask before.
However the "surprise visit" goes about as well as anyone would expect....with Mark panicking and you hiding in the shadows, watching and wondering what would happen.
He gets rid of any and all evidence of your presence, until Thatcher finds a drawing in the trash alluding to you, a Type 3 Alternate, being some sort of "guardian angel".
That didn't make any sense.
This kid must have a case of MAD that distorted his perception of Alternates as protectors.
But Mark gets extremely defensive when he suggested this.
"Listen, I know it sounds crazy. I never thought I'd consider one of them to be a friend, but I can prove it! I can bring [y/n]-"
"Wait...you gave that thing a name-?"
"No, lieutenant. I gave that name to myself."
Thatcher nearly jumps out of his skin as you appear from the shadows, instinctively reaching for his gun...but remembering Mark's words and seeing the terrified look on his face, he calms down a little, sitting back down.
Immediately he can tell you're nothing like the broadcasts said.
You aren't currently mimicking anybody, being a "pure form" similar to N/The Façade.
You're not hostile in the slightest, and he asks you why.
Long story short, you managed to gain his trust and he thinks you'd be helpful in his investigations.
You wind up going to the station as an "undercover" officer in-training, with him and Ruth (after convincing her that you're on humanity's side) showing you the ropes.
Ofc you're not a perfect copy of a human being, but the rest of the MCPD suspects nothing.
The 333 Alternate is less-than-pleased to see you prevent it from killing Ruth and Thatcher when you accompany them to the Murray residence, calling you a "traitor" to your kind.
You knew the risks of helping the organization Gabriel was trying to dismantle, but it's one worth taking if it means Mandela was a little bit safer, especially Mark.
At the end of the day, you'd always return to his home just to make sure he was alright.
And also to ramble about how much you liked having a "real human job".
#clanask#anonymous#mandela catalogue x reader#tmc x reader#alternate reader#alternate y/n#mark heathcliff#thatcher davis#headcanons
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POLL FOR SPECIAL!!!!!
#tmc alternate#the mandela catalogue#mandela catalogue#the mandela catalog#mandela catalog#alt!gabriel#alternate gabriel#tmc#tmc x reader#tmc sarah#tmc intruder#adam murray#tmc adam#tmc thatcher#tmc gabriel#mark heathcliff#thatcher davis
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Can you write thatcher davis x male reader? Anything about him really
Thatcher David x Male!Reader! (Small hc’s)
Possible trigger warnings; mentions of poor mental state, mentions of depression, mentions of MAD, (might be slightly ooc?) (REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!)
Thank you for requesting this! I hope I did Thatcher justice (considering host Adam probably wouldn’t…)
-host Cesar!
(I know that thatcher is in our “characters we won’t do” but I’m sure Adam wouldn’t mind if I decided to do him)
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General-!
Thatcher gives of chill, rarely panicked, vibes. But underneath his calm facade, he’s actually quite anxious.
Idk why but I just feel like he’s super good at making soup- like all types of soup..
His nicknames for you are; babe/baby, darling, (my) love, doll, and babyboy(as a joke)
He needs help getting outa bed sometimes cus he just doesn’t feel like getting up
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The relationship-!
You probably met him at the site of an accident,, like maybe a car crash in near you that lots of people went to check out(including yourself)
^although that was before the invasion .
He’s a pretty friendly guy honestly and probably liked to chat frequently with you whenever he got the chance!
Once you two finally got into a relationship it was quite some time before what happened to Ruth.. and he was a tad bit cold, not mean or anything you know? Just a bit closed off..
He constantly needs reassurance that you love him, no matter how much you show your affection, just tell the man you love him randomly and it’ll lift his mood quite the bit.
After the…incident.. he had been prescribed with antidepressants . You sometimes have to remind him to take them.
On another note to the antidepressants, he wouldn’t let you near him for a bit because he worried that he may of contracted M.A.D… although his suspicions were quickly dismissed and life went back to.. somewhat normal
His love language is words of affirmation
Other than that I think a relationship with Thatcher would be quite fluffy.. lots of hugs/cuddles!!
Sorry if this was short, but you can always dm us for specific hc’s!!
-Host Cesar!
#bythorne paranormal society#tmc#thatcher davis#the mandela catalogue#adam murray#jonah marshall#cesar torres#evelin miller#mark heathcliff#tmc six#mod Cesar#reqs open#mandela catalouge x reader#mandela catalouge cesar#mandela catalouge mark#mandela county#mandela catalogue#mandela catalyst#Mandela presto#tmc thatcher#thatcher x reader#tmc x reader
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💙𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍💙
“𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣, 1979 𝘾𝙤𝙤𝙡 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚, 𝙊𝙣 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙩. 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩.”
【☆】★【☆】
I write for—
Christian Slater
Jason Dean
Mark Hunter
Brian Kelly
Binx Davy
George Kuff
[request more C. Slater characters.]
【☆】★【☆】
“𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙣𝙤-𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥; 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥.”
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
Requesting info, & request/blog rules.
Requests: open.
#christian slater#christian slater x reader#jason dean#jason dean x reader#jason dean x y/n#jason dean x you#mark hunter#mark Hunter x reader#brian kelly#Brian Kelly x reader#binx davy#binx Davy x reader#George kuff#George kuff x reader
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Decoy [S. R.]
Spencer Reid x fem!reader
word count: 6.9k
summary: when you go after an unsub who catches students making out, the unit is called upon to resort to desperate measures. Or in other words, where you and Spencer become the decoy to catch a voyeur.
warnings: +16. Making out, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, insinuation of smut, sexual tension
Do yourself a favor and imagine Spencer in these clothes during the case
You sighed, completely frustrated, while you looked for the thousandth time at the blackboard with some information from the profile that you had made for the criminal in this case.
You believed that the unsub was a Caucasian man between 30 and 35 years old, whose motive was to spy on and photograph university students who were escaping in their cars to make out at night, then force them to have sex in front of him and finally kill them cold-blooded. You imagined that he was a person with a mediocre job, that he felt insufficient, and that his voyeuristic behavior probably came from sexual frustration, something that could be corroborated by the violence that he inflicted on the genital area of the students whom he stalked using a knife, his mark on all homicides. You also believed that perhaps the rejection or abandonment of his last partner (preceded by a bad streak from his youth) due to his impotence had been the triggering event for all his repressed impulses to come to light.
All the psychological analysis was fine, it wasn't something you hadn't seen before, but the hard part of all this? Because he only threatened and killed people, he didn't rape them, at first it was almost impossible to tell who it was. He already had 20 victims in total and you weren't even close to catching him. In the last scene he had made the mistake of leaving a fingerprint and Garcia had been able to trace his true identity: Oliver Davis, a guy who fits the description perfectly. Unfortunately, this turned out to be useless because beyond the accusations of being a pervert, the man didn’t have much information that would give a clue to his whereabouts, you had even called the job that he had registered and all you had obtained was that he had several months without working there, which coincided with the beginning of the murders. After that Rossi suggested that he probably lived in a trailer (old, due to his lack of employment) where he developed the photographs and kept his trophies. That only made more sense when you thought that it would make it easier to transport or escape in case things got messy.
But words on paper and intelligent conclusions were of absolutely no use to you. You needed a plan to catch him.
"Do you have something, Reid?" Hotch had asked. You had already interviewed some students, you had set up guard duty to look for any suspicious behavior and you had even shared the photograph of the suspect in the media, but nothing had worked; The only thing left was to carry out the geographical profile to know the area in which he was attacking and thus be able to search for possible targets.
“I triangulated the locations we have of his previous homicides and I'm guessing he hits in this specific area,” he muttered, pointing to a space on the map he had on his blackboard with his middle finger. “Considering it's an area frequented by the age group due to its proximity to the universities and that it has several parks that the students told us they use to drink or go out as a couple”
"So what?" Morgan said from his spot. "We just wait until he kills someone else and hopefully we're near the scene to hear the screams?"
“Maybe we can ask the cops to patrol the area for the unsub's car,” JJ suggested.
“He's smart, there's a trailer park right here. It wouldn't be strange to find one on the streets as well.” Reid was visibly frustrated like everyone else and he ran a hand through his hair with some despair.
Your options were running out and frankly you couldn't think of anything else.
“And if we give him a target?” Emily murmured. Noticing that none of you said anything, she went on to explain her plan, “We ask police officers to send any young people they see around to home so we force our unsub to get close to who we want”
"And what are we going to do? Hire a couple of college kids to stalk them?”
“We can use our own team”
"Not to offend you, Prentiss, but we are no longer in the prime of youth"
"We don't, but Y/L/N and Reid do" when you heard your last name you were surprised, but when you heard your friend's you practically froze. First you looked at her and then at the doctor, whose gaze reflected the same stupefaction as you "You two are young, you might look like students"
"Are you saying you want to send us straight into the hands of a sexual predator?" you couldn't be offended, after all, those risks were part of the job, but you did feel somewhat reluctant about the idea.
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
“It doesn't sound so bad” Rossi murmured “It's a smart move”
“Besides, we would be watching around and we would intervene before that madman got close to you. Once we catch him, the photographs and personal items that he probably has in his trailer will be enough evidence, in addition to the fingerprint from the last crime scene” to your surprise, Derek was also pretty convinced of the plan that Emily had just devised.
"Reid, Y/L/N, would you guys be up for it?" Hotch exclaimed with his usual serious tone, looking at you and then at your partner.
Thinking objectively, the suggestion was very good. But thinking about it personally, you felt worried about the danger you two would be running into… oh, God. It wasn't until then that you realized that the plan to catch the suspect involved the two of you making out like a couple of hormonal college kids.
You knew that the options that remained wouldn’t be as opportune as that and taking into account the temporary nature with which Oliver operated, in addition to the fact that he was already deteriorating as a murderer, it was most likely that he was already looking for new victims, so if you did that same night the chances of success were quite high. You were between a rock and a hard place and all you could do was look at him while the gazes of the rest of the room were divided between the two of you.
“I… I'll only do it if you say yes” you exclaimed in his direction, with a cautious voice and a fearful look. You knew your friend and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, even though you knew that both you and he knew that your personal interests would take precedence against the possibility that another couple of victims would lose their lives if you refused. It was your job, you had to do it.
"Are you sure you guys are going to catch him before something happens?" Spencer asked your boss. You thought that with his background the last thing he wanted was to end up kidnapped or seriously injured again, even though the truth was that he was caring just as much about himself as he was about you. He had seen the photographs and knew that women were the most affected by the murder weapon… he didn't even want to imagine something like this happening to you.
"Of course. You will have communication with us and if something goes wrong we will get you out of there immediately" Aaron answered and your friend sighed nervously and then looked for your approval. You nodded slightly and he delivered the verdict, to which everyone agreed.
He was still standing, but after that he slumped into the nearest chair as he listened to everyone brainstorming ideas for setting up the scene, distributing the crew, and what they would tell the local police to do to make the decoy effective.
At some point you lost the whole point of the conversation, to start thinking about what was implied by what you were about to do.
The feeling of attraction for your co-worker had been latent in you for a couple of years, but you had never confessed it to anyone to avoid creating tension in the team or suffering the humiliation of certain rejection. Also, you knew that a crush meant distractions from what was truly important and you had tried, in vain, to eliminate it completely. But even if it hadn't completely gone, you had known how to control it, only allowing yourself to look at him with loving eyes from time to time and avoiding being too confident with him during group drinking outings. You even limited physical contact, not because you didn't like it but because you knew your greed would demand more and more of you until it became inevitable to beg for his touch. But now all that good work holding you back was screwed because in a few hours you would have to be passionately making out with him.
Still with the internal crisis, you raised your head to look at him and realized that he too had been submerged in his own tide of thoughts, which you hoped would be more positive than yours. At some point Spencer felt you watching him and when his eyes met yours he gave you that tight-lipped smile that was strangely comforting, to which you responded with the same gesture. After that it didn't take long for everyone to leave the room to fulfill their respective tasks, but you stayed seated because you honestly didn't feel enough energy to move. Besides, you had nothing entrusted to you, you were the bait.
"Hey, are you sure you're okay with this?" Spencer asked you, once everyone else had left. He looked so tired of everything, but at the same time there was a kind tone in his voice about him that made you smile.
“It's just kissing, Spence. I think we'll be fine" you assured him, trying to swallow all your embarrassment and nerves "And you?"
"I agree. I just hope we get lucky today or we'll just have to keep trying”
"Reid, I need you to tell the cops what area we'll be in," Hotch interrupted you from the door. "You still have time to regret it," he added, looking at the two of you.
You immediately denied and after that Spencer withdrew from there in the company of Aaron. When you were about to drop you exhaled, completely concerned about the last thing your partner had said.
We will just have to keep trying. You didn't know if the idea excited you, or terrified you.
As night fell, Spencer drove the old pickup truck the unit had managed to rent for the two of you to drive into the park, with you in the passenger seat and a six-pack of beer in the backseat.
Although you were sure that it would be cold, you had decided to wear shorts and a button-down shirt that you normally wore for work, but that you had adjusted to make it look more youthful. Spencer was wearing an outfit that Morgan had gotten for him from a department store, simple jeans with a rather baggy cotton shirt and some nice boots that you didn't know where he got from, since in Quantico you had never seen him wear anything like that.
Both of you had showered at the hotel (separately of course) and you had made sure to brush your teeth and put on a good amount of deodorant and perfume before getting in the car. You had paid special attention to your appearance, not because it was necessary, but because you wanted to look perfect for him. Even with all this, you were a nervous wreck next to him, not saying a word along the way and only soft music from the radio filling the air.
When you stopped, the two of you put your headphones on to the channel the team was supposed to be on, and Morgan answered in the affirmative.
"Remember, he doesn't have to see the communicator or your weapon," Rossi spoke, who was also in the van, along with Prentiss and Hotch. "García will be watching with the security cameras and he will warn us if the trailer is coming"
"And meanwhile what do we do?"
"Pretend to be a couple, sit on the tailgate and drink beer, laugh, I don't know"
“Did you ever run away like that in college?” you asked, directly at Reid.
“Do you remember that I was like 16 when I studied at the university, right? I wasn't even old enough to drive, much less a car" he muttered and you gave a short laugh "I guess you did"
“I was too busy being the best in the institution to even think about going out and making out with idiots,” you replied, proud of yourself for that. “I mean, it's not like you're an idiot, but they were. You're very smart," you rambled, still twiddling your fingers, "Hotch, you guys will tell us when we're going to start kissing, will you?"
“When the suspect approaches, yes”
"Okay, well... then we have to go out, huh?" you muttered to him as you reached for the beers and tried to open the door to get out. You turned, expecting to see Spencer do the same as you, but noticed that he had lingered in the car for a moment, checking himself in the mirror and applying his lips with chapstick.
My God, could that man make you more nervous?
When he finally caught up with you, you went to the back of the pickup, where you opened the tailgate to sit down with a little hop. Spencer was tall enough to keep up with you just by leaning over the edge, where you watched him cross his arms. You were silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of crickets and cars in the distance.
"Do you think it's a good idea to drink?"
"Only a little. I'm having a hard time thinking while sober, I don't want to ruin the little reasoning I have left” you exclaimed as a joke. Or maybe you weren't joking so much "Just empty a couple of cans and leave them on the floor so he'll think we're really drunk." Spencer was about to do what you said when you noticed an important detail and called him over to look at you "Come here, let me fix your hair."
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"You're very well combed, it's not the image we expect" you carefully took his hand until it was close enough to pass the other through all his golden locks, messing them up enough to give him that relaxed touch that he should have. He looked so handsome, but not in the style of a fancy FBI agent but just like a young intellectual who went to parties and smoked weed “Like this. Perfect"
“Do you think we have to think of some backstory?” he asked and you looked at him with a frown. “You know, something about us. What degree are we studying, what are our names…”
"This is not a play"
"It's rude to eavesdrop on conversations, Prentiss," you said visibly annoyed, although looking at your partner that expression softened "As you wish, Spencer. Although being honest, I would say that you study… literature”
"Really?" he exclaimed with slight enthusiasm. You knew that his mother had been a teacher in the subject and you wondered if he had ever considered it.
“Morgan wasn’t wrong to choose those clothes for you. It suits you” you complimented him and Morgan whistled from the other end of the line. You felt like you were having too much fun for the situation you were in, but you needed to talk about something else to put off the reminder of what you had come to do for as long as possible. “I think you would have that hopeless philosopher/romantic vibe who flirts by whispering memorized poetry in your ear.”
“I actually know some good ones”
"Sure you do" you smiled gently, suppressing the thought of him sighing close to your neck at Bécquer "I'd probably study science or something."
"The unattainable scientist with whom the captain of the soccer team has a secret crush, but she is completely unaware"
"Where did you get that? From a 90s movie?
Spencer's laugh was one of your favorite sounds and today that was precisely not helping your situation. You felt intoxicated by how handsome he looked, like you'd discovered a side to him that no one else had, and the thought of kissing him made you tremble a little with anticipation.
“Do you want to share a beer?” he murmured, carefully opening the can and offering it to you first. You knew your partner wasn't the most enthusiastic about doing anything that involved germs, so it made you feel good that he took the lead. You took a big gulp of the drink to gather something of value and when it was his turn to drink he kept looking at you intently, you would even say that he seemed entranced.
You had made sure you were in a strategic position, with enough light for the unsub to see you and quite lonely, except for the patrol cars and the van that had been positioned at a safe distance.
“How does voyeurism develop?” you asked quietly, with genuine interest, as you shifted a bit to get closer to him.
“Voyeurism usually begins in adolescence and since during that age it is usually seen with greater tolerance, there are people who continue with these behaviors until adulthood. When voyeurism is pathological, they spend considerable time looking for opportunities to watch, often at the expense of not fulfilling important responsibilities in their lives, and people reach orgasm by masturbating during or after watching. Although if you think about it a bit, everyone is a bit of a voyeur."
"Why you said so?"
“Many men and women enjoy viewing pornography, which can be classified as voyeuristic behavior. It's not a worrying thing, but it's interesting to think about it” he explained, with those expressions on his face that he had every time he shared knowledge with you. He liked that about you, that you were always willing to listen to his data and statistics even at the most inopportune moments.
"I'm still a little scared that Oliver is trying to do something to us."
“I have my gun. If he tries to do something to you, I'll use it" you knew that killing the unsub was always the last option Reid considered, so you widened your eyes a little to show your surprise "All lives are worth, but when that life has already taken so many and it puts you at risk, I would not doubt it. You have nothing to worry about” he assured you and your heart warmed a little at feeling so protected.
"Do you know if Oliver attacks at a specific time?"
"No, he doesn’t. Just as we can be here for ten minutes, we can also be here all night."
You exhaled loudly, before taking another gulp of beer.
“Drink some, boy. I feel kind of selfish around here."
"I am nervous"
"And why do you think I'm drinking?" you exclaimed wryly, still holding out the can to him, and when he finally agreed he drank a little more than you expected “Have you ever…” you started to say, but suddenly remembered that literally the whole team was listening to you. If the answer was embarrassing, you didn't want to hear Morgan and Emily taunting you all week, so you covered your microphone for a moment and spoke again, but so quietly that only he could hear you. "I suppose you kissed someone, did you?"
"Yes," he said quickly and you sighed with relief. It comforted you a little to know that it wasn't his first kiss, because you didn't want him to have such a bad memory “Do I look so inexperienced?"
"No, that's not what I meant" you smiled "You're handsome, I know you've probably kissed a couple of girls"
"You don't need to tell lies, you know I'll kiss you anyway"
"But it's not a lie. I really think you're handsome" you confessed, gathering all the courage in you, while you smiled at him in the most serene way possible "And if we weren't literally waiting for a murderer, you know I'd be happy to do this with you"
"Smooch me?"
"Having this bad date attempt, Reid," you hissed, flushing red, as you slammed your palm into his forehead with just a little bit of force. Spencer seemed quite pleased that he made you nervous, rather than the other way around, so he grinned, “Though I think we should have brought food. I'm starving,” you pouted, swinging your dangling legs back and forth.
"That's not a picnic, Y/N"
You hated for a second that everyone was so intent on the conversation. A part of you wanted a moment alone with the brunette, even if it was in the midst of such a strange situation.
You began to talk pleasantly about things completely unrelated to the case for a couple of minutes, staying where you were, until Hotch's interruption made you jump a bit in place.
"Garcia intercepted an approaching trailer, get ready” your heart immediately sped up and you noticed him tense beside you, too, probably with the same thought flooding his head.
"Okay, come closer," you exclaimed, trying not to panic, as you spread your legs a little to allow the man to step into the space between. He wasted no time and just as you wrapped your hands around his shoulders you heard the sound of another car pulling up.
"Is that our unsub?"
"It is"
You were about to turn your head to peek when Reid grabbed your cheek and stopped you.
"He's smart. If you look at him, he'll realize it” he reminded you with a serious voice. You were so worried about everything that you were forgetting about your training “Okay, so I… Is it okay if I put my hands here?” he asked with a different tone, nervously placing both hands on your waist. You had always admired the size and anatomy of those hands, but until now you had not had the pleasure of feeling them on your body in this way.
“Tonight everything you do is fine. I promise"
"It would be a good time to start, he'll see you" Emily reminded you and you could only sigh shakily.
You two were adults, why were you so scared about kissing?
"Close your eyes" Spencer whispered to you, masking his nerves better than you "I'll kiss you, just close them," he asked you and you did.
You felt his body lean against you a little until his chest almost touched yours and then his lips shakily pressed against yours. You would always remember your first kiss, which in essence was such a brief caress that you didn't even know if it could be counted as one, the one where he wordlessly asked your permission to explore your mouth. Still with your eyes closed, you pulled him by the neck towards you and started a new kiss, a little more confident and deep this time, allowing you to savor the beer mixed with strawberries and that strange flavor that each person has.
“We…” you started to say, once you separated “you have to do it slowly, what he wants is a show” you exclaimed. Spencer felt unable to say any words and your hands caressing him so deliciously wasn't helping at all “Slow,” you repeated.
You arched your back a little to get even closer and when you finally looked up you met his caramel eyes. You needed a moment to recover and you unconsciously licked your lips, as if you needed to pick up and savor his presence in your mouth again, something that didn’t go unnoticed by his attentive look at your movements.
It didn't take long for you to give up, as beginning the third kiss you felt that you no longer had any control over your body, your heart, or your mind. And while it was true that neither of you were experts on the subject, you guys managed pretty well as the seconds ticked by. Spencer gasped as he simultaneously felt you pull the hair from his neck and caress his lips with the tip of your tongue, while you were taken by surprise when his hands left your waist and lowered to the height of your hip, where his thumbs gripped firmly on the clip of your shorts.
There was a kiss, then another and another; they became too many to count. You didn't want to touch him anywhere and at the same time you wanted to touch him completely, in the grip of the fantasy that this was real and not just a performance. And even if you were aware that it was all fake, that would probably only have encouraged you to enjoy something to the fullest that you knew would never come back. Amid everything you didn’t know which of the two situations would be worse.
The sound of your lips colliding became so obscene that you were embarrassed, but you had no plan to stop. Your hands slid gently down the length of his neck until you reached his chest and cupped the soft cotton of his garment in your fists to make sure he didn't move away from you. The heat of the moment just went up and up, but a voice on the intercom brought you back with a jolt.
“He started the trailer. He's going to go"
Spencer closed his eyes in frustration, and you sighed. From the position he was in it wasn’t possible to get around him without being seen, so keeping all his attention was on you and him.
Maybe you weren't doing it right? You wondered what the hell this man wanted to see if you were practically eating each other, but suddenly you remembered that his motivation was even more sexual than a couple of wet kisses. Maybe he was getting bored because he needed to see that you were about to… well, do it.
"Take off my shirt," you said immediately, still too close to his swollen lips and looking right into eyes that seemed to be pitch black.
"Take... what?"
"Take off my shirt" you repeated, with a tone that made the man shudder completely. With the hands that were still holding his shirt you pulled him to you and he held his breath “And kiss me better. Like you really want me"
But Spencer didn't need to pretend that he wanted you.
He made you completely dizzy when he began to kiss you so hungrily and you managed to keep enough composure when you felt one of his warm hands travel under your blouse, limiting yourself to letting out sighs that were drowned against his lips. But what finally caused you to let out an indiscreet and unwelcome moan was when he pulled you by the hip until you were on the edge of the tailgate and you could feel the growing bulge in his pants pressing against you. Spencer had almost managed to suppress his, but in the end, you having your own situation down there didn't help one bit.
His trembling fingers fussed with the buttons on your shirt until it ended up somewhere on the floor at incredible speed, leaving you half-naked before him and the collection of FBI agents standing around. You might have been embarrassed if your brain could connect two coherent thoughts, but you'd lost that from the moment Dr. Reid first dared to kiss you.
You carefully guided his hands to the beginning of the curve of your breasts and now you both sighed in unison, feeling goosebumps on every inch of your skin. You pushed yourself forward just for the satisfaction of hearing that guttural sound again and your prayers were immediately answered, for it was enough for him to feel the slightest friction and he would go crazy. It was inappropriate to need him like that, but you couldn't help it.
Holding your lower back, he leaned over you and at the same time pulled you towards him until your breasts collided with his chest. In that position, your neck was exposed and your partner’s hot lips didn't hesitate to go down there, while you sighed agitated just at the height of his ear. Spencer asked you, between each kiss, to look in the direction of the trailer to see if he was still there and as you could you answered yes, which was victory enough for both of you.
As he could, he maneuvered to lay you down carefully on the cold metal of the truck without stopping kissing your neck, and by inertia you wrapped both legs over his hip. When you were hidden by the panels of the pickup he finally looked at you.
"I hope it's enough to get his attention," he said, sounding as agitated as expected, and although the circumstances meant that you two would be taking a break you flatly refused, pulling him back to kiss him.
That kiss did take Spencer by surprise and it was perhaps the sincerest of the night. It wasn’t as passionate as the previous ones, but rather it was loaded with softness and you would even say that a hint of supplication. You were begging for him not to stop, for the night to get stuck in an infinite loop where the two of you could kiss for eternity. And suddenly you felt how he, who had been so tense the whole time, completely relaxed against you, as if he understood exactly what you wanted to say. His hands came to rest on the sides of your head to be able to kiss you more comfortably and you dared to take him by the waist with the same care that you were kissing him, feeling even above the cloth the softness of his skin.
And then he broke up with you. You feared you had done something wrong due to the suddenness of the movement and your frightened eyes searched his gaze for a sign of the reason, without finding anything. He just looked at you with something you couldn't describe, but that made you feel butterflies fluttering all over your stomach... and he stayed like that for a few seconds: just looking at you, as if he wanted to memorize all your features.
You opened your mouth to say something, but your words were drowned in a new kiss, totally different from the previous ones. Spencer was taking time with him, trapping your lower lip between his and sucking on it gently, pressing himself a little more against your body, sighing heavily into your mouth.
Your hand was already running up his side to make its way to his cheek just as screams filled the silence and you hugged him reflexively. The screams had come from Morgan, who had already moved across the park to take down the unsub and was now wrestling with him to get the knife out of his hand. Spencer hesitated for a moment if he should come over to help, but he preferred to hold you better against his body to protect you and wait for Emily to place the handcuffs on the man under her partner's knee.
From a distance you saw that he only brought with him, in addition to the knife, his camera, and a small backpack with some other murderous instruments that they managed to confiscate without any problem.
"All clear, we've got him," Hotch spoke over the radio. As you exhaled in relief too many emotions washed over you, combined with the adrenaline coursing through your body and the arousal still flowing into your crotch.
"Are you okay?" Reid's gentle voice called to you, as he pulled away to check with his eyes that everything was in order. His hair was messy and his lips were so swollen that it was almost painful to look at the image without launching yourself to kiss him again "My God, your shirt..." he said, completely embarrassed, as he bent down to pick up the garment. You looked him up and down and blushed when you noticed how tight his pants were, feeling your stomach turn a little. When he got up, he took the opportunity to look at your chest covered only by the black lace bra and a big gulp of saliva went down his throat.
You thanked him quietly and put your shirt back on, feeling the sneaky glances Spencer was giving you, just before Hotch walked up to you.
"How are you?"
"Very good, excellent" you stammered.
You could perfectly feel your swollen lips, the light sheen of sweat on your face, the heat flowing from all the places Reid's fingers had been, and the abundant moisture between your crossed legs.
After Hotch congratulated you on your performance, the two of you walked as best you could toward the rest of the agents, who were already placing Oliver on patrol. Another group was analyzing the trailer and they managed to pull out enough evidence about the murders that would be very useful in prosecuting the man.
"All good?" Emily asked in your direction, once things had settled down and the rest of the team had gathered in a circle by the van. You and Spencer just nodded at the question.
“I honestly think I'm going to need therapy after what I heard,” Dave murmured, so serious that you couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Don't you even dare make fun of this"
“No, we won't. I'm just saying you guys seemed to be enjoying it there."
"That's supposed to be the plan, right?" Spencer said nervously, finally daring to look at you and looking away almost immediately as he smoothed his hair back.
Once your boss said you could retire you escaped in a patrol car as fast as you could, wanting to get home so you could take a cold shower and soothe what wasn’t satisfied by the man. You could hardly sleep that night, still haunted by the ghost of the kisses you received from your gorgeous coworker, and the next morning you hoped that double coffee would do the trick. But apparently you weren't the only one who thought so, because at the same time that you arrived Spencer Reid crossed your path.
"Hey," he said, in that high-pitched voice that came out when someone caught him off guard, "How are you?"
"Fine, and you?"
"Fine too"
You knew that the two of you wanted to talk about what happened, but it only took one of you to have the courage to speak first. At the same time your phones rang indicating a message and you mistakenly assumed that it was JJ contacting you to announce a case. What was your surprise when you opened the file and found a collection of photos from the night before. You knew from Spencer's face that he had received the same thing.
"Garcia did you… did she send you the same evidence?"
"That's right," he said nervously. You had to admit that if Oliver had one quality it was that of a photographer: you were sensual and perfectly captured the desire that had existed between you. Well, the one you had pretended to feel… right?
Spencer held his breath as he came to a picture of you topless in which his hand was practically on your breast, immediately remembering how that had felt. He just hoped his memories didn't affect him too much or it would be embarrassing enough to walk into the boardroom with a boner.
"They're good," you said to the air and he suppressed a laugh "But I can delete them if that makes you feel uncomfortable"
“No, no, I… I think I want to keep them too. After all, the bureau will have them in the files as evidence of the case, I prefer to have access too”
"I just hope she doesn't send them to anyone else, I wouldn't want to see my bra photos going around."
“I'll tell Garcia, don't worry,” Spencer murmured, rushing to type something on his phone.
While you waited for him to type you took another look, feeling your whole body heating up again at the memories. A part of you was grateful to have such material in your custody.
"I never thought of being the protagonist of an erotic photo session and here we are," you said ironically.
“Speaking of which…” Spencer started to say, “Not the erotic sessions by any means, don't think I'm planning on inviting you to one or that, because it would be super weird and inappropriate, but I was thinking if… huh…”
“Sell them online? I thought so too, but it depends on how much profit there is. Garcia can help us find the highest bidder and not get charged for tampering with evidence."
"What? No!" he said, completely shocked, and you laughed because you got the reaction you expected with your joke "Why would we do that?"
“Just kidding, Reid. Those photos are something I prefer to keep to myself" you clarified and your smile made him feel shy "Seriously, sorry for interrupting you. What did you want to tell me?"
"What…? huh, yes, right. It's just that this morning I was thinking about what you said yesterday, about how under normal circumstances you would have liked to have a bad date with me, right? and it just kept spinning in my head, so I was asking if you wanted to go for a drink sometime. Not like a date, of course, I'm not saying it is if you don't want to. I can just be like… well, go get a drink. As friends"
Yesterday Spencer had practically eaten your mouth and now he was nervous about asking you out. So adorable.
“You're not doing this just as compensation, are you? because you know that it is not necessary…”
“I do it because I want to. And I want to believe that… that I didn't misunderstand what happened yesterday."
You no longer even cared that it was unethical to date team members, or that if things went wrong, you would probably go into the worst of depressions. What mattered to you was that Spencer was interested in you, even if he had implied it, and that he was asking you out alone with him. Just the two of you, with fun and alcohol involved, without gossipy colleagues or mortal danger.
"Then I'd love to, Reid."
“Wow, excellent then” he smiled, feeling lucky that you agreed “I know a great bar near here, the atmosphere is generally calm, I like it because they don't play loud music. What day is right for you?"
“I'm available any day you want” you responded genuinely, grinning from ear to ear just being around him. That was the effect Reid had on you.
It was stupid to try to deny that you were still attracted to him, especially since now you had a taste of what he could do with you. You wanted to kiss him again, of course, but you were also anxious to earn that completely adoring look you'd received the night before.
“Today?”
"Yeah, why wait?" you responded, more excited than you wanted.
“Hey, I didn't ask you, but I wanted to know if I didn't go overboard with you last night. I mean… did something bother you?”
It was a smart move, you could see it clearly. It was obvious that Spencer cared about you, but you also picked up on his intentions to find out if you were interested in him too. Well, that's how it was from your perspective, because that probably would have been your motivation being in his place.
Even if it wasn't the case, you weren't going to miss the opportunity to take a little advantage of the situation.
"The kisses on the neck were something he definitely didn't expect, but they weren't unpleasant at all," you assured him, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "Did it feel good to you?"
"It did"
"So everything's perfect," you murmured, shrugging off the matter. But you both knew you couldn't see each other in the office and acted as if nothing had happened.
Something had happened. Those kisses had only fueled the tension that had always existed between you but that you wanted to ignore.
"Do you want to go after work, then?"
“Sounds good to me”
Spencer gave you one last smile and then went to prepare his usual cup of sugar with a dash of coffee. All day you were thinking about him and more than once he caught you looking at him, but you didn't even care.
So, at nightfall, with a few drinks on you and more courage in your body, you finally confessed that kissing was something you had wanted to do for a long time. You almost didn't believe it at first, coming from him, but when you finally accepted it, it wasn't hard at all to rush at him and kiss him feverishly. And this time there did not impede for you to give free rein to your desires, which led you to the soft mattress in your friend's house and kept you awake until a few hours before dawn.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#dr spencer reid#matthew gray gubler#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#jason gideon#JJ#penelope garcía#david rossi#emily prentiss#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid smut
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rafe helping you deal with your anxiety <3 a rafe x fem!reader blurb <3 cw: lots of mentions of anxiety, reader has a habit of biting on her nails, picking on her skin, and one mention of lip biting, a bit of social anxiety, usage of nicknames <3 requested by dearest davi @ladyinbl00d , my original answer to her ask wasn’t showing up in the tags </3 I hope you like it bae 💙 <3
when you and rafe started dating, he had a remote idea of your anxiety. he knew how you prefer to just be at home instead of going out somewhere. if you’re both at a party, he’s always by your side, an arm around your shoulders and a hand covering your drink, and he always keeps a close eye on you, catching even the smallest signals of anxiety so he can act on them, and leave if that’s what you want.
one thing he’s seen you do often is biting your nails and picking on your skin. it’ll be just a random day; you’re sitting on his bed with your laptop, your teeth biting on your nails absentmindedly and he’s passing across the room. he’ll spot you – your eyes zeroed on your screen, your continuous biting on your nails, and the furrowed expression of your brows. he’ll come and gently remove your hand from your mouth, saying something like, ‘don’t do that babe’, but it’s just a mere voice in the back of your head.
you’ll be doing it almost all the time; you’re at a restaurant reading the menu and you’re biting on your nails; you’re at the beach, both of you sitting next to each other in the sand, and the thumb of your hand resting on your side is continuously picking the skin around your nails; you’re doing some work and you are picking on your skin as you also softly bite down on your lower lip.
he doesn’t say much to you, usually just gently tapping your hand to stop doing the motion, because he knows you’re doing it but aren’t aware of that. but that doesn’t mean he likes seeing you do it; he doesn’t like how harshly you somehow pick on the skin around your nails that the skin is scarred, and in some extreme cases, it even bleeds just a bit. he doesn’t like how your nails have a rough edge because of how much you tend to bite on them.
you’re both right now just chilling, his head in your lap as you sit on the couch, one hand holding your book and the other now inching its way to your mouth, your teeth starting to gently bite on your nails. he looks at you concerned, taking a deep breath before gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and bringing your hand down to his level.
“baby don’t, please…” he mumbles softly, taking a look at your hand. as always, your nails have their uneven edges and he can see the faint scars of your skin picking. he gently rubs a thumb over your nails, as if wanting the little marks to go away at this instant.
“sorry…” you mutter, sighing as you keep your book aside and watch him gently caress your nails. you have a sudden urge to put your now free hand in your mouth, but you control yourself.
“i don’t like it when you do this,” he says faintly. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself, yeah?” he looks up in your eyes, his soft baby blues sinking into yours. he now intertwines your hands, softly squeezing your fingers as he brings your fingers closer to his mouth, and gently kisses on top of each nail.
“yeah…” you whisper, softly sighing when you feel his soft lips come in contact with your fingers.
“I don’t want you ruining your pretty hands,” he whispers. “I want to be able to take you for your little nail appointments, and I want you to get your nails done in any color you love, and get them sparkly and shiny and long, maybe have a little ‘R’ bejeweled on them…”
you can’t help but softly giggle at his idea. “I’d definitely get that for you,” you mumble softly, your other hand now coming to tangle into his hair, gently scratching his scalp.
“yeah…” he hums. “just try to control this as much as you can, yeah? I know this isn’t something you can change overnight, so we’ll take baby steps. I’m here for you alright? ’m always here for you…”
his voice is a faint whisper but it’s the gentlest thing you’ve heard. you softly nod, humming along with him.
“yes rafe, I’ll… I’ll try my best,” you whisper. he looks up at you with a soft smile on his face, kissing your nails back again.
“good girl…” he murmurs against your hand, going back to resume gently kissing your nails and fingers.
— —
this is again so me coded what :( I have anxiety and some of my ticks include tapping my foot, biting my lip (it’s so bad sometimes it literally bleeds), and skin picking. I loved writing this and I hope that anyone who struggles with anxiety can slowly improve and find themselves feeling better about certain situations 💗
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron concept#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron oneshot#written by edith! 🪄
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Spencer Reid x gn!reader
A/N: been gone for a hot minute due to personal circumstances but just wanted to drop a lil something (that anyone who watches Doctor Who will be able to tell I started writing a BIT ago given the references here lol) to let you guys know I’m still kickin it <3
warnings: slight hint at an age gap but nothing specific
A Smile
You can imagine the rest of the team would be floored to hear that Spencer has actually exchanged texts with you on a multitude of occasions, outside of professional settings. Numbers were swapped on your first day, naturally, and to begin with you only dared text Spencer if you had absolutely no other choice (if another member of the team could text him, you’d busy yourself to ensure they would, rather than ask you, to save you the embarrassment). But, ever since the first occasion that you texted Spencer a random question out of hours - regarding trivia you definitely hadn’t spent a concerning amount of time deciding on before you sent it to him - you have formed a bond that’s unspoken beyond typed words.
You: so, are you looking forward to the 60th Anniversary? :P
As you hit send, you roll onto your bed, grinning giddily down at your phone. In no more than a few seconds, your screen tells you that your beloved genius is already typing back to you, and within a minute, you receive the paragraph you’d anticipated.
Spencer: Absolutely. The revival of Russel T. Davies’ era, coupled with the return of Murray Gold’s legendary scores, are sure to ignite the spark of nostalgia that the show has been missing for some time. In particular, I am looking forward to seeing how Russel will format this new regeneration of the Doctor, and how many references to his predecessors will decorate the anniversary episodes, especially. I take it you are excited for the anniversary episodes, too, hence the question?
His formality and enthusiasm being conveyed in a way that is so distinctly Spencer, even over text, is enough to have you giggling. You know by now that if you ask something about one of Spencer’s interests, whether it be facts, statistics, generalized trivia, questions, literature, Star Trek or, in this case, Doctor Who, there is no way he can downplay his excitement.
You: knew it! :D and yeah, I'm super excited!!
Mostly, you are thrilled by the thought of discussing the episodes at great length with Spencer for weeks after they’ve aired, but you keep that safely in the subtext of your conversation.
Spencer: Of course you knew. Perhaps we could share a live commentary on the anniversary episodes, if we’re not otherwise engaged with a case?
Only Spencer Reid can make your heart stop with a suggestion like that. Before you can consider any consequences, you are frantically typing back to him.
You: I’d love that! will the commentary be by text or call?
He is typing the moment your message reaches him, his ability to read at what you consider to be the speed of light making for a wonderfully speedy texting partner in every conversation you have.
Spencer: Either is fine, but if we aren’t away on a case, I must admit the idea of experiencing the episodes together in person would be most preferable. It eradicates the risk of our viewings not being synced up or our call connection potentially spoiling the immersion. What do you think?
And just like that, he’s stopped your heart again. In fact, you truly have to consider whether Spencer Reid has figured out a means of reaching through his phone to yours, to snatch your heart right out of your chest. As though he hadn’t already stolen it on the day you met.
You: I think you’re right, like always, Doctor Reid :P
That’s a rational reply, you think. Not too eager. Not the resounding ‘yes’ that every fiber of your being is screaming. In the chess game that is how-to-text-Spencer-Reid, you have marked yourself as the queen. He’d tell you that’s not how chess works, but he’d probably also agree.
Spencer: I’m far from right “always”, but I very much appreciate that you think so.
You’re about to reply, when another text appears on your screen.
Spencer: (:
Doctor Spencer Reid has double-texted you. And, not only that, he’s sent you a smiley face. This is unprecedented. Your jaw drops.
You: omg you did not just send that
Honestly, your life is flashing before your eyes as you lie on your bed. Is this the power of your influence? Could you truly indoctrinate older men into sending emojis? Could this really be you?
Spencer: I most certainly did. I’ll even do it again.
Spencer: (:
He had to send it as a separate text. He couldn’t just add the smiley face to the end of his original message. No, of course he couldn’t.
You: omg who are you!!
You’re laughing now. Actually, properly laughing at the ridiculousness of this situation. Wait until Penelope hears about this.
Spencer: I don’t think these suit me very much, but they are fun. What about this one - 🙂
This is going too far. You’ve played God. You’ve flown too close to the sun. You’ve created a monster in the form of Spencer Reid using emojis while still being so formal. Still, you can’t deny that this is perhaps the funniest conversation you have ever had, with anyone, specifically because it perfectly demonstrates the unique humor shared between the two of you.
You: woah! careful! don’t push it, genius!!
And, in response to that, Spencer Reid is left with a philosophical question he has never before pondered: how does one convey sincere laughter via text? This reply takes him the longest, because he has to consider it very carefully. He wants it to indicate how funny he did find your message, and does find you, in general. He wants it to be obvious in its intent and impossible to misunderstand. So, after four minutes, you receive a text that has you laughing so hard you very nearly fall off of your bed.
Spencer: Haha.
Sometimes, that’s simply how your text conversations with Spencer end. While he does, generally, prefer a more traditional ending in the form of a goodnight text (that he actually makes the effort to sign off with a “- Spencer x”, like it’s a handwritten letter), he enjoys the nuances of an open end, on the basis it means a conversation with you doesn’t have to end. Only has to pause, temporarily, until one of you picks it back up again. There is something poetic, Spencer thinks, to the notion of you being his constant both in metaphor and literally in a text conversation that isn’t formally closed. That door is left open to you, much like the door to his heart is.
And that night, he closes his eyes with a smile on his face at the thought of you, everything you are, everything you make him feel. Everything that makes you, you, and how that makes you everything to him.
A text could never truly convey the heaven that you bring to him by existing, but just like proposing plans to watch Doctor Who with you, it’s a good place to start.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#imagine#imagines#x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#headcannon#headcannons#spencer reid headcannon#spencer reid imagines
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Fool's Fare: Chapter Five
Fool's Fare: Chapter Five
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader
Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.
Trigger Warning: Language, Big brother Bradley, Secrets, Feelings of betrayal, Abandonment issues from the reader, Reader says something she'll regret later, Allusions to prostitution and violent men, Magic, Curses, Supernatural is real, Reader cries, Feelings of helplessness, Pirate!Jake. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything!
Word Count: 4k
Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List
“What do you mean you still haven’t eaten?”
Bradley winced at your tone, running a hand through his brown locks as he eyed you wearily. You had meant to drag him to the physician at the last port you had docked at, but the excitement from the day prior had wiped the issue completely from your brain. Who knew falling overboard could do that to a person?
Now here you were a week later, and it had finally dawned on you that you hadn’t seen your brother eat much more than an apple here and there. You had kept quiet the past two days, silently observing him, and here you sat in the galley, Bradley to your right with Mickey and Nat sat across from you. The rest of the crew milled about, and it wouldn’t be long before Bob and Reuben joined your little group for breakfast.
“It’s not that serious, Guppy,” he murmured, casting a weary look at the two sitting across from you. “I feel fine.”
“Bradley, you aren’t eating,” you scowled, turning your own gaze to your new friends. “Tell him he needs to go see a physician.”
The two shared a look before Mickey shook his head, putting his hands up in surrender while Nat sighed.
“Yeah, I’m definitely not getting in the middle of a sibling squabble,” she drawled, taking a bite of her apple. You rolled your eyes, turning back to look at the brunette beside you.
“As soon as we dock, I’m going to go find a physician,” you told him, pressing your lips into a firm line as you stared him down. Your father had always said that you get your temper and attitude from your mother.
“It’s like a miniature you running around everywhere, Pen!” He’d laugh, throwing his head back as you gave him the best scowl your six year old self could come up with. Your mother would roll her eyes, biting back a smile as she watched you glare at the older man.
“She’s going to strike fear into the heart of everyone who crosses her, mark my words!” He grinned, reaching out to gather you in his arms.
“Don’t give me that look,” you scowled as Bradley gave you a dubious look. “I mean it! We’re finding a physician the next time we dock.”
“Alright, fine,” he grumbled, moving to stand, holding up his hand when you made to say something else. “By all means, go find a physician, Guppy. In the meantime, I’m going to go get some work done on deck before we dock.”
“Javy said we should make landfall within the hour,” Nat provided, watching as the brunette rounded the table towards the stairs. You watched after him, chewing on your bottom lip in worry. Were you really in the wrong for worrying after him so? Surely not. Bradley had always been stubborn, ever since the two of you were children. If anything, he wasn’t worrying nearly enough about his current condition.
“He’s going to be okay, you know,” Nat said, reaching out to hold your hand in hers. She offered you a gentle smile as she squeezed it lightly. “Maybe you should give him some time?”
“I’ve given him plenty of time,” you mumbled, glaring half-heartedly at the stairs where Bradley had just disappeared. “He needs to see a physician if he’s not eating. It could be illness.”
“He seems fine to me,” Mickey offered with a shrug. “A physician would be a waste of time, anyway.”
“Why’s that?” You asked, brow furrowing at his words. Nat shot him a pointed look, and Mickey straightened up as if just realizing what it was that he said.
“Oh, I just mean,” he trailed off, looking at Nat for help. All she offered was an unimpressed glare as he fumbled for how to continue.
“I just mean,” he stammered, “that physicians never really know what they’re doing, right? I mean, they’ll prescribe plants and leeches and-”
“Mickey?” Nat interrupted, raising an eyebrow and resting her chin on her fist.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
“Oh thank God,” Mickey mumbled, looking away and catching sight of Bob and Reuben making their way towards your table. Bob sat down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his in greeting as Mickey and Nat made room for Reuben on the other side.
“What are we talking about?” Bob asked, taking a bite of his oats.
“I’m going to go and find a physician for Bradley once we dock,” you told him. He paused, stiffening next to you for a moment before continuing with his food.
“What?” You asked, a tinge of annoyance evident in your town. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just chewing before swallowing.
“Is a physician really what he needs?” He asked carefully, glancing up at your friends on the other side of the table. You rolled your eyes fixing the bespectacled man with an annoyed look.
“Is there some sailor superstition about physicians being bad luck that I don’t know about?” You questioned, glancing around the table. Everyone refused to meet your eyes, and you felt another twinge of aggravation in your chest.
“No,” Bob replied, shaking his head, spoon clacking against the side of his bowl as he moved the oats around. “It’s just that they’re costly, you know? I’d hate for you to waste all that money only for there to be nothing wrong with him.”
“He’s not eating,” you replied dryly. “I think that’s plenty of cause to go and see a physician. I’ll deal with the cost when we get there.”
Shouting could be heard from on deck, and all of you glanced up at the sudden outcry.
“Sounds like we’ve reached land,” Reuben commented, focusing back on his plate.
“Perfect timing,” you chirped, already moving to stand. You cast a final smile to your friends, giving a small wave as you made your way towards the stairs. “I’ll see you all up there!”
It was still a few hours before anyone was allowed to leave the ship, Jake and Javy making sure that everyone had been inspected for signs of illness per the harbormaster’s orders. You kept silent about Bradley’s lack of appetite, certain that if it were contagious, then the others would be showing signs as well. Once the ship had been cleared and deemed healthy, you all set about preparing the ship to settle.
It was the late afternoon by the time you finished your tasks, and you set about trying to pin down Bradley.
“Have you seen him?” You asked Nat as you hung in the doorway to your shared cabin, having ran from the galley to the private quarters. She glanced up at you in the mirror, a quizzical look on her face as you fought to catch your breath.
“Who?”
“Bradley, of course,” you chuckled, straightening up and stepping further into the room. “Who else would I be talking about?”
She hummed noncommittally, turning her focus back towards her bun.
“I haven’t seen him,” she responded finally. “But I haven’t seen the others either. Perhaps they’ve already gone ahead and gone out?”
Your lips pulled into a frown as you realized that, save for Bob just moments before, you hadn’t seen Mickey or Reuben either.
“He wouldn’t,” you growled, earning another look from the woman in front of you. Your jaw dropped in indignation. “That rat!”
“He’s your brother,” she shrugged, once again turning back to the mirror. You let out another growl, turning to stomp your way back onto the deck. The oaf you called a brother would have to come back to the ship at some point, and it was then that you would corner him.
Meanwhile, your boots stomped across the deck and towards the gangway, mind bound and determined to find a physician at this small port. The docks were already crowded in the late afternoon, and you found yourself having to push through throngs of people just to get into the streets themselves. You weren’t sure where you should be looking, but you were sure that a port town of this size had to have some kind of physician. All around you, merchants of all kind hollered to the passing travelers, some selling food, others selling trinkets.
“Fine wares for your misses, sir!”
“Fish for sale!”
“How’s about a shilling for an hour of your pleasure, mister?”
You shied away from the last one, not wishing to be caught up in that business. People did what they needed to survive, but you were weary of the men who tended to hang around those parts.
“Interested in apples, miss?”
You turned to find an older woman staring directly at you, knobbed fingers outstretched to offer you a bright, red apple. She was missing a few teeth, that you could see as she smiled up at you, her silver hair falling out of her bun in wisps.
“They’re just a three for a shilling,” she continued, waving it up at you. “Tha’s quite the bargain.”
“No,” you shook your head. “No, thank you. Would you happen to know where I can find a physician?”
“A physician?” She parroted, her arm dropping back to her side as she studied you. “Doesn’t look like anythin’s wrong with you.”
“It’s not for me,” you corrected her. “It’s for my brother. I think he might be sick since he hasn’t been eating.”
“Not eatin’, you say?” She hummed thoughtfully. “Was a boy back when I was a girl meself who stopped eatin’ one day, there was. Was fit as a fiddle and then just dropped dead one day, the poor lad.”
“Yes, well,” you swallowed thickly, feeling ice run up your spine at her words, “I’d like to keep that from happening to my brother, if you don’t mind. So, do you know of any physicians here in town?”
“Oh, aye, aye,” she nodded, her wayward strands of hair flying all over the place. “Physician’s just a few streets over, love. A fine man he is, too. Helped me sister when she was puking buckets a few years back. Set her right as rain he did.”
“You said he’s a few streets down?” You prodded.
“Aye, just three streets down and to the right from here. There’s a big ole sign out front, you can’t miss it,” she said, waving in the general direction of where you needed to head. You followed the gesture, looking back and nodding.
“Thank you,” you smiled, turning and making your way through the crowd once more. It took you all of fifteen minutes to find the building the old woman was talking about, a bright blue sign with the word “physician” painted in white letters hanging above the streets as you approached. Worming your way through, you finally managed to trudge your way through the door, slamming it closed behind you with a wince at the loud sound in the unusually quiet room.
It was your standard physician’s office, the wood floors creaking as you wandered further into the dimly lit room. The walls behind the counter were filled to the brim with different herbs and potions meant for treating different ailments. It wasn’t long before an older man walked out from the backroom, peering at you curiously from over the rim of his glasses.
“Might I help you with something, young lady?” he inquired, rubbing his hands clean with a cloth towel.
“Yes, actually,” you smiled, crossing the rest of the distance to stand just in front of him, only the counter separating the two of you. “I came because of my brother. He hasn’t been eating the last few weeks, and it has me worried.”
“Hasn’t been eating, hm?” He hummed, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Does he have any other symptoms?”
“Now that you mention it, no,” you frowned, suddenly finding it odd that the only thing physically wrong with Bradley was his apparent lack of an appetite. “He sleeps just fine, and he looks healthy as he usually does.”
“No fever?” He continued.
“No, nothing like that,” you assured him.
“Vomiting?”
You shook your head, earning another hum from the older man.
“And, uh,” he smiled, a gesture you were sure was meant to be comforting, “what is it your brother does for a living?”
“He’s a sailor.”
“A sailor,” he nodded, cocking his head to the side. “And why isn’t he here with you now?”
“He thinks he doesn’t need a physician,” you scowled, crossing your arms. “He was supposed to come with me, but snuck off before I could grab him.”
The physician chuckled at that, tossing the cloth onto the counter as he leaned against it.
“Well, unfortunately, there’s not much I can do about his situation without seeing him in person, miss. How long is he in town for?”
“We’re here for at least another day,” you told him, earning another nod.
“Bring him by tomorrow,” he instructed. “I’ll take a look at him before you two leave town.”
“Thank you,” you sighed, relief washing over you in waves. “I really appreciate this, you have no idea.”
“I’ll keep the shop open until sundown. After that, I make no promises.”
“We’ll be here!” You assured him, turning to leave, weary of the setting sun shining through the window. You waved at him from over your shoulder, offering one last smile as you exited the shop.
“Bradley,” you huffed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the taller brunette. The two of you were currently in another argument about going to the physician, your window before the shop closed rapidly waning as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. You had tried to stay awake the night before, waiting for Bradley on deck before falling asleep on one of the dozen barrels scattered about. You had inexplicably woken up in your bed that morning, still dressed in the clothes from the day before. When you had entered the galley, he was still absent, the rest of your little friend group remaining tight lipped about where he might be. The rest of your day was spent meal prepping and taking inventory with Bob until finally, the man had run out of chores for you two to do. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was keeping you busy on purpose.
You had sat perched in the same spot as the night before, eyes trained on the gangway until a familiar head of brown hair peeked over the deck. He spotted you right away, freezing in his tracks before making a beeline for the stairs leading below deck. You were hot on his heels, your temper surfacing as you finally cornered him.
“Guppy,” he replied cooly, refusing to meet your eye as he scanned the galley for help.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” you accused him, earning a scoff.
“Have not.”
“Have to.”
“Have not.”
“You have to, and don’t even try to deny it again,” you snapped, poking him in the chest. “We have precious little time to get to the physician before he closes up shop for the day. He was kind enough to keep it open as long as he is, now let’s go.”
“I’m not going,” he muttered. You froze, balking at his tone.
“What?”
“I’m not going, Guppy,” he repeated, still not meeting your gaze, golden eyes locked on something just past your shoulder. You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head in exasperation.
“Bradley-”
“I’m not going, and that’s final,” he growled. “Drop it.”
You stared at him for a long moment, your anger and sadness welling up all at once inside of you.
“You really want to leave me alone, don’t you?” You whispered. Bradley’s eyes snapped to you, still firm, but now with an edge of uncertainty to them. “First it was Papa, then Mama. I only had you, and now you’re determined to leave me too. You’d rather see me alone than go see the stupid physician, is that it?”
His face dropped into a look of horror, regret swirling in his eyes as he reached for you. “Guppy-”
You took a step back, feeling the hot, angry tears sting at your eyes. You fixed him with your meanest glare, cursing yourself when you felt your bottom lip begin to tremble.
“If you want to die so bad,” you sniffled, “then by all means, go ahead. Just leave me out of it.”
And with that, you turned on your heals and practically sprinted towards the stairs, the eyes of the rest of the crew fixed on you the entire way. You were vaguely aware of Bob’s concerned face peering at you from the kitchen, Mickey and Reuben seated not too far away. You passed Nat, ignoring her outstretched hands as you thundered past her and Javy up the stairs. The wind sent a chill down your heated face, only made worse when the tears finally began to fall. The sun was just above the horizon now, the sky painted in an array of pinks and oranges as it beckoned the night.
“Rough time?”
You jumped, spinning around to find Jake leaning against the railing on the far side of the ship. His golden blonde hair shimmered in the evening light. The sun kissed the horizon just passed his shoulder, creating a halo that glowed around him. If you didn’t already know him, you’d think he was an angel. He stares at you as if he could see into the very depths of your soul, his olive green eyes never wavering.
“What do you care?” You snapped, furiously rubbing at your eyes to rid them of any tears. Jake watched you intently, as if knowing that you would continue. “Bradley’s not eating.”
“Of course he’s not,” Jake replied, no hint of malice or sarcasm in his voice. Just a simple statement, but it made you tense up nonetheless.
“He hasn’t eaten in weeks,” you clarified, unsure if maybe he misunderstood you. He nodded, face unchanging.
“I know.”
“You know?” You asked incredulously. “You know, and you’ve done nothing about it?”
“There’s nothing to be done about it,” he shrugged, and you felt your whole body stiffen in anger.
“He needs a physician,” you snapped, fists clenched so hard at your sides, you thought you might draw blood with how your nails dug into your palms.
“A physician can’t cure what’s wrong with him, darlin’,” he drawled, as if explaining something so obvious. Your jaw ticked in annoyance.
“And what, pray tell, is wrong with my brother, captain?” You spat, the title earning a twitch from the blond’s lips.
“Do you believe in Davy Jones, Guppy?” he asked. That was unexpected. The change in conversation had your head jerking back, confusion stifling the anger momentarily.
“I believe he’s a scary story that parents tell their children to scare them into being good,” you responded, thinking back to the stories your own father would tell you. “He’s not real.”
Jake gave a humorless chuckle, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. He ran a hand through his golden locks, looking out over the side of the ship and to the sea. The sound of the gulls and the creak of the ship as it rocked in the waves were the only things to be heard before he spoke. “I can assure you, he’s real.”
“Stop teasing,” you snapped, crossing your arms and fixing him with a glare. He gave you a wry smile, a look of sadness barely discernable in his eyes as they swept over you.
“If only it were that,” he started. “I didn’t believe in curses until six years ago, if you can believe that.”
“And what happened six years ago to make you a believer?” you asked, rolling your eyes. You were in no mood to be mocked or played with, and this man was wasting your time with his nonsense. You glanced over his shoulder. If you could wrap this conversation up, perhaps you could somehow convince Bradley to go with you to get the care he needed.
Jake paused. “Six years ago, I met a woman. She was beautiful, sweet, caring. The kinds of things most men want in a woman.”
“And you don’t?” you questioned.
“Those are nice things to have,” he hummed thoughtfully, then he gave you a small smirk. “But I’ve always wanted a little more.”
You ignored the shiver that smirk sent through you. “So, I’m guessing you took this woman to bed?”
“I did,” Jake admitted, pursing his lips. “And then I left her. Only, I didn’t know that there was another man in love with her at the time.”
“And he beat you senseless?” You guessed, letting out a snort of derision.
“Haven’t you been paying attention, darlin’?” He chuckled. “That man was none other than Davy Jones himself. Risen from the deep to exact vengeance on little, old me.”
“Right,” you scoffed. Surely he couldn’t be expecting you to believe him? He was speaking of fairytales. “And what, pray tell, does this curse involve exactly?”
“I, and everyone in my crew, are destined to exist on this earth in limbo. Not alive, but not dead either. A half-life. We eat, but we are never full. Our food tasting like ash.” He stood up, walking slowly towards you as he continued talking. “We drink, but our thirst is never quenched. The finest wines leave our throat dry like the desert.”
He cupped your cheek, stroking it before resting his thumb on your bottom lip, and you willed yourself to stay focused on the conversation at hand, despite the warmth the seemingly innocent action sparked in you. “We can feel, but no touch leaves us satisfied. I and every other member of this crew have taken many women to bed, only to crave more and more as this insatiable need for contact drives us mad. I’ve not known relief from another person’s touch in over six years.”
“Must be lonely,” you said softly. A look of unadulterated despair ran across Jake’s face, and it was then that you knew in your heart that he was telling the truth. It was the look of a man with ghosts that followed him, taunting him into submission, and you sucked in a harsh breath as he stared at you. His eyes shone with unshed tears, his breaths coming in ragged for a moment before he was able to compose himself.
“It’s agony,” he admitted quietly, dropping his hand back to his side, almost reluctantly.
“Did Davy Jones give you a way to lift the curse?” you asked, a sense of urgency in your tone. If there was a way you could help Bradley and your new friends, you had to try.
Jake didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighed, “I have to find what he considers to be the greatest treasure of all.”
“And what is that?”
“He didn’t say,” Jake muttered, head hanging low.
Your brow furrowed. “But, how are you supposed to find it if you don’t even know what it is you’re looking for?”
“Isn’t that the point?” he snorted, a humorless smile etched onto his face as he looked back at you. A sense of dread filled you, and you did your best to push it to the side. Giving up was not an option, it never had been for you.
“Well, you have all the time in the world to find what it is you’re looking for,” you offered, giving him a soft smile. He shook his head, the wry smile finding a home on his face once more.
“Old Jonesy only gave me seven years to find it before the curse becomes permanent.”
“Seven years?” you exclaimed, ice drenching your bones. “But you said this happened six years ago!”
“I did,” he said softly, watching you put the pieces together.
“But, that means…” you trailed off, horror overtaking your senses. Jake nodded.
“I have less than one year left to find the treasure.”
A/N: This one goes out to all my Fool's Fare girlies who have been waiting patiently for two months now for an update and haven't complained once! Y'all are the real MVPs. If you haven't heard, I'm redoing my tag lists, so please be sure to sign up for this new one! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated and encouraged! And don't ever hesitate to pop into my inbox to talk about my fics or anything else! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator!
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#ff#fool's fare#pirate!jake#jake hangman seresin#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x you#jake hangman seresin fanfiction#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#jake seresin fanfiction#hangman#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman fanfiction#top gun hangman#hangman top gun#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun fanfiction
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━╋ NEW RELEASES
⏜ˑ 🐇 actress au part four 𓋜 ⋆ ࣪
౨ৎ . . all works for this series will be under the #his greatest mistake au tag. for any random thoughts, or asks it will be under the #cassidy morgan au tag!
fem actress!reader x quinn hughes.
mentions of fem actress!reader x jacob elordi
faceclaim: beabadoobee
find the series masterlist, here!
cas_morgan
cas_morgan: so so so excited to finally let you guys in on what i’ve been working on! ‘spinning out’ is now streaming on netflix! everyone go show your support, and love please 🫶🏼.
words cannot describe how incredibly honored, and grateful i am to have had this opportunity. i loved being able to bring this character to life. this experience is something i’ll forever cherish, thank you everyone!
tagged: netflix, spinningoutnetflix, evanroderick
liked by trevorzegras, jackhughes, and other
user1: OH MY GOD
user2: on my way to watch it right now
trevorzegras: superstar at it AGAIN
↳ cas_morgan: my #1 supporter 🩷
user3: since when do you know how to skate?
↳ user4: she’s been skating since she was a kid
↳ user3: really? user4
↳ user5: yes! she has a video all about it on her youtube channel (: user3
user6: i need a season two asap
user7: who got you those roses?? 🤔🤔
↳ cas_morgan: 🤫
↳ markestapa: it was me don’t let her fool you
↳ cas_morgan: you are DISGUSTING markestapa
user8: whyd evan and cas be cute irl tho…
↳ cas_morgan: guys this man is 28 PLEASE
↳ user9: age ain’t nothin but a numba… cas_morgan
↳ evanroderick: Absolutely not! user9
evanroderick: Been such a wonderful experience working with you, Cassidy! Thank you for teaching me the ways of skating even if i fell on my ass most of the time. I’ll forever cherish the memories that were made, and i hope to keep a close friendship!
↳ cas_morgan: very like wise! i love working with you, ev! you did a great job, regardless of how many times you busted your ass. i hope to stay close as well, keep in touch, don’t be a stranger! 🫶🏼
user10: i felt so bad for kat throughout the series ):
↳ user11: no literally, my baby deserved better 😭
spinningoutnetflix: our very own kat baker and justin davis! we loved having you bring our kat to life!
jackhughes: the amount of SEXY SCENES I NEED BLEACH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
↳ cas_morgan: there’s like one get a GRIP ROWDY
lhughes_06: watched it like 82672 times
↳ cas_morgan: it came out two days ago, luke.
↳ lhughes_06: don’t underestimate me cas_morgan
user12: i love cassidy’s friendship w jack and luke so much omg ☹️
↳ user13: it’s so cute, they’re like her annoying brothers 😭
user14: anastasia allen core
↳ user15: now she just needs her hockey bf
rutgermcgroarty: would’ve been better with a hockey boy as the love interest 🤷
↳ cas_morgan: not everything is about hockey rut
↳ rutgermcgroarty: could be! cas_morgan
user17: okay but rut’s onto something, would’ve been cute with a hockey player
↳ user18: it’s a basic trope. hockey player x figure skater is BASIC say!! it!! with!! me!!
liked by cas_morgan
user19: oh no she liked the comment about figure skater and hockey trope being basic there goes our chance of getting her with a hockey player
↳ user20: she’s an actress not a figure skater, there’s still a chance trust
liked by cas_morgan
user21: she is NOT slick
↳ user22: she’s so real 😭😭
_quinnhughes: congratulations, cassidy!
↳ cas_morgan: thank you quinn!
edwards.75: you did good 🗣️🗣️
↳ cas_morgan: thanks eth 🔥
user23: she’s so pretty fuck
user24: can’t wait to see more future projects!
user25: you are so talented cassidy
trevorzegras
trevorzegras: don’t let cas fool you, she’s having an absolute blast w the hockey boys 🗣️💯🔥
tagged: cas_morgan, lhughes_06, jackhughes, jamie.drysdale, _alexturcotte, edwards.75, markestapa, rutgermcgroarty, luca.fantilli
liked by _quinnhughes, nhl, and others
cas_morgan: don’t lie to them, i hate you, and everyone here (besides luke, jamie, and mark)
↳ trevorzegras: what the hell Cassidy.
↳ lhughes_06: YUP 🗣️
↳ markestapa: it’s an honor 😭😭😭😭😭
↳ edwards.75: ??
↳ jackhughes: do i just not exist?..
↳ cas_morgan: no you do and that’s the problem rowdy jackhughes
↳ jamie.drysdale: awe cas loves me
↳ cas_morgan: always 🫶🏼 jamie.drysdale
user26: LMFAOO THAT WHOLE THREAD IS SO FUNNY
user27: are you guys excited for hockey season again
↳ trevorzegras: yes i get to drag cas to more games!
↳ cas_morgan: yeah that’s absolutely not fucking happening, good try tho! trevorzegras
user28: so glad cas has people who care about her surrounding her 🫶🏼
↳ user29: real, im glad she’s happier!
user30: Cassidy only has followers cause of the hockey players she sleeps around with
↳ markestapa: cassidy has more followers than all of us 😭 she acts, and we play hockey, let’s not.
user31: mark #1 cassidy defender
↳ user32: that’s dom’s roll, mark can get #2
↳ user33: who’s dom? user32
↳ user32: dominic fike! user33
rutgermcgroarty: don’t let cas fool you, she reads most of the time, and barely talks to us
↳ cas_morgan: don’t be a hater rut
jamie.drysdale: im cassidy’s favorite by the way
↳ markestapa: no its definitely me but okay
↳ trevorzegras: ACTUALLY 🤓 markestapa
lhughes_06: funny you guys are fighting over favorite when it’s literally me 🤣🤣🤣
↳ jackhughes: you’re real funny luke. ever tried being a comedian i’m laughing so hard 😐
user34: none of y’all are the favorite btw
liked by cas_morgan
sorry about slow updates, trying my best! just please be patient, and i promise to try and upload as much as i possibly can! 🫶🏼
taglist | @wnderify @bunbunbl0gs @alwaysclassyeagle @bunting58 @callsignwidow @crazycat-ladys-blog
#his greatest mistake au#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x oc#jack hughes#jack hughes x oc#luke hughes#luke hughes x oc#trevor zegras#trevor zegras x oc#mark estapa#mark estapa x oc#rutger mcgroarty#ethan edwards#instagram au#social media au#jack hughes x reader#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x you#jack hughes x y/n#luke hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x reader#trevor zegras x you#trevor zegras x y/n#trevor zegras x reader#ethan edwards x oc#umich hockey#umich boys#hockey x oc#nhl x oc#nhl
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All Access, Chapter 1
All Access Masterlist | Ko-Fi | A03 Link
Pairing: 70s rockstar! frankie morales x f! reader
Rating: 18+ (explicit, minors do not interact)
Word Count: 6.4K
Summary: It's 1975 and you're one of the rare women given the opportunity to write for Rolling Stone. When you get the opportunity of a lifetime to travel with the hottest band in the US, Triple Frontier, you're welcomed into their den of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. But what happens when you fall for their bass player and it becomes more than just a story?
Content: explicit drug use, heavy partying, triple frontier as rockstars, eventual smut, 1975 au
A/N: Thank you so so so much to my beta readers @heythere-mel, @proxima-writes, @nostalxgic, and @pedropascal-whore I am so insanely, eternally grateful you have no idea! Thank you to anyone who has been waiting for this story since it was just a random idea in 2022. I hope you all enjoy it and it makes you sing as loudly as Santiago.
TRIPLE FRONTIER: FROM BATTLEFIELDS TO CENTER STAGE
As the dust of the Vietnam War settles, a new sound emerges from its ashes. Four war veterans—Santiago, Benny, Will, and Frankie—unite under a new banner, Triple Frontier, capturing the soul of a generation seeking peace, love, and rock 'n' roll.
Triple Frontier's latest self-titled album strikes a chord with raw passion and unflinching honesty of their previous work. We can trace their meteoric rise in the music world back to their time serving together in the Vietnam War, an experience that has left an indelible mark on each member and seeps into every note they play.
At the forefront is Santiago Garcia, the charismatic lead singer with vocals matched only by his charm and stage presence; Behind Santiago, Benny Miller lets loose on the drums, laying down the heartbeat of their sound. Will, Benny's older brother on lead guitar, is the soul of the band. He's intuitive and artistic with the guitar akin to Robbie Robertson.
And then there's Francisco Morales on bass. The stoic backbone of the group, his basslines are more than just musical notes—they're lifelines. His bass weaves the music together like a thread that ties each member of the band.
Tom Davis, their manager, has been instrumental in their rise. A fellow vet, he understands their shared history and has transformed their raw, visceral tales into a finely-tuned musical odyssey. Speaking about their journey, Tom says, "These boys have stories that the world needs to hear. I'm just helping amplify their voices."
The band's name, Triple Frontier, references the tri-border area in Southeast Asia—a location many veterans from the Vietnam War will recognize.
Despite the weight of their past, or perhaps because of it, Triple Frontier brings a refreshing authenticity to the rock scene. Their music isn't just entertainment; it's a balm, a therapy, a reminder of the indomitable human spirit.
As they gear up for their nationwide tour, one thing's for certain: Triple Frontier is here to stay, and they're just getting started.
Despite your boss stating he just needed a simple puff piece about Triple Frontier, whenever you reread that review you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when you saw your name in print in Rolling Stone. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
You were on the fast track to doing something big at Rolling Stone by the time you were thirty, you could just feel it. After freelance writing post graduation from college, you landed an entry-level job at the magazine. You knew what you were getting into, the long hours and the male-dominated office could be a lot at times, but you were living the dream as far as you were concerned. To write about music and make it your living was a gift you never wanted to take for granted.
It was a Tuesday afternoon and you were done at work surprisingly early. You lugged your 1969 Dodge home and immediately went to the back patio to light a joint. You slunk back in your chair, inhaling deeply from the joint, and watched the sun dip lower behind the tree line; the warm glow of the Los Angeles sunset never got old. As the smoke filled your lungs, you felt the day slowly dissipate.
The sound of your phone ringing jolted you out of your high-induced stupor but you heard your roommate Jenna flit across the house and yell "I'll get it!" before answering. You took another deep pull off the joint and exhaled, watching the smoke dance around the sky as it faded out.
You heard Jenna call your name from inside. You walked into the kitchen and saw her standing with the phone receiver in her hand, she was looking at you with an expectant expression.
"Who is it?" You asked.
"Some guy named Tom Davis? Sounds foxy." She grinned at you and wiggled her eyebrows. You rolled your eyes and swatted her away before taking the phone from her.
"Hello?"
"Hey! I hope you don't mind me calling you at home. Your work number was listed in the phone book, but I didn't know if you'd want to take this call in the office or not. Figured home was probably better."
You had talked to Tom a month back for the Triple Frontier article. You remembered him as a no-nonsense type of guy who didn't beat around the bush, so you knew even though he was calling you at home it wasn't for a dinner party.
"No, that's okay. What can I do for you? I hope the article came out okay?"
"That's actually why I'm calling, I wanted to thank you again for doing such a great job. The guys really loved it and the boss did too. And we've had some new interest in the band and they think an interview series might be a good way to build some buzz during the tour."
You felt excitement bubble up in your stomach. You didn't want to be presumptuous and assume this was an offer, but you also didn't want to say no.
"I'd love to write more about them! I'm not sure if you just want a song by song review or..."
Tom chuckled on the other end.
"Nah, nothing like that. I know this is actually last minute but we're playing a show at the Troubadour on Friday night and we'd love for you to come. I've already cleared it with your editor at Rolling Stone if you're game."
You tried not to sound too eager. Of course you knew about the Troubadour show, it had been sold out for months. You knew this wasn't an easy ticket to score or an opportunity that just falls into your lap like this.
"I would be an idiot to say no."
"That's what I like to hear! I'll be in touch with more details, but I'll have your ticket and backstage pass ready for you on Friday night."
"Awesome, thank you so much."
"Thank you, we'll talk soon!"
He hung up the phone. You stood in the kitchen with the receiver in your hand. You felt like someone had just punched you in the gut, you couldn't believe it. The Troubadour, backstage passes, exclusive interviews... it was the break you'd been waiting for.
This was real rock journalism, the rock journalism your mom cried over when you said you wanted to move out west and pursue this as a career.
Will Mom still think you're dabbling with the devil if your name is under the biggest story for Rolling Stone with the hottest band in the country?
-------------------------
By the time Friday night rolled around, you felt like you had a permanent case of butterflies in your stomach. It wasn't often you had the opportunity to attend a show and not write about it, so the fact that you had no other reason for going besides seeing the band was enough to set your nerves on fire. But meeting them?
You'd spent the whole week building scenarios in your head - Would these guys even take you seriously? Would they see you as just another fan? Were they even that interesting to interview, or were their music and looks all there was to them?
You shook the thoughts from your head as you walked up to the Troubadour. The line outside was already around the block and you could feel the energy from the crowd. You saw women with long hair down their backs in tight jeans and crochet tops, some men with hair even longer than theirs and dressed in flared pants and vibrant shirts. You could already smell the weed wafting off some people.
As you approached the bouncer at the back door, he glared at you, intimidating and unwavering.
"I'm here to pick up a press pass from Tom Davis." You tried to exude confidence, even though you felt the opposite. He arched his brow at you before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a paper.
"Name."
You gave him your name and also added what you thought would cement your legitimacy. "I'm with Rolling Stone."
He looked over the paper before his eyes settled on your face.
"Right. This way."
The man turned and opened the door behind him, beckoning for you to follow.
Once inside, he led you through the dimly lit back corridors of the club. You were immediately welcomed into a heavy musk of smoke and sweat. You passed other roadies carrying guitars, amps, and microphones. You felt the excitement rising up again and you had to remind yourself to act cool.
He led you into a dressing room with a large group of people. Everyone had drinks in their hands and seemed to be chatting amongst themselves. The walls were covered in posters and various band members from over the years had scrawled their names on the walls where Tom was seated, reading over a sheet of paper.
"There she is! Good to see you." Tom immediately spotted you from the crowd, his tall and imposing figure stood up and made his way over to you. He was wearing a black leather jacket and his hair was pushed back with gel. He looked every bit the rocker, and you couldn't help but wonder if he always dressed like that. With the band but not in the band.
He reached into his back pocket to pull out a laminated press pass. "Here you go, this should get you access to whatever you need."
You took the press pass and held it up, smiling. You were still in shock.
"I can't thank you enough, Tom. This really is an honor."
Tom chuckled and clapped a hand on your shoulder. "Honor's ours. We're looking forward to the piece."
"Speaking of pieces, If you're gonna write about the band you might as well meet them. Come with me."
He started making his way toward the back of the room. As he passed, the people parted to let him through. You followed closely behind, trying to not lose him.
He led you towards a cluster of men in the corner. They were talking amongst themselves, beers in hand and laughing. You recognized Benny–the drummer–from the album cover, by his shaggy, dirty blonde hair. He was bouncing off the soles of his feet, drumsticks tucked in his belt loop, and was the center of the circle.
Will was leaning against the wall, his long blonde hair tucked in a bun. He had a cigarette dangling between his lips and a guitar pick in his hand, fiddling with it.
Next to Will, Santiago was sitting on a couch, his arm draped over the back with a glass tumbler in his other hand. His eyes shined as he was talking to the other boys, taking his hand to smooth out his jet-black hair.
It was true what every girl said - his pants were as tight as his voice.
And then there was Frankie.
He was standing next to Santiago, a beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingertips. He was leaning on his elbow on the wall behind Santiago, listening to Benny.
He was handsome. His brown hair was covered in his signature baseball cap, and the stubble along his jaw along with his mustache gave him a rugged look. You couldn't help but notice the muscles underneath his thin shirt. You could see his arms flexing underneath the material, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer.
He was the first one to notice you, looking at you before he did Tom. His eyes were dark and unreadable, but you could tell he was assessing the situation.
"Boys," Tom boomed, "I want you to meet the writer from Rolling Stone."
Santiago and Will turned their heads in unison, but Frankie's eyes stayed fixed on you.
Santiago's smile broadened, and Will raised his eyebrow and nodded. Frankie's expression didn't change.
"Well, hey, welcome to the party." Santiago stood up and extended his hand. You reached out and took his, shaking it. His hand was soft and his grip was firm.
"Nice to meet you." You tried to sound confident.
"You've already met Tom, obviously," he gestured towards Tom, who smiled at you, "and this is Will and Benny, and that's Frankie."
Benny smiled at you, and Frankie's eyes flickered over to Santiago as he said his name, but he didn't speak. You had a feeling this was his way of letting everyone else talk.
"Nice to meet you all, I'm a huge fan." You offered them a friendly smile.
Benny spoke up, "Well then, I like you already. You'll make us look good!"
Tom looked down at his watch and then snapped up at the guys. "Shit–we have ten minutes before showtime, you guys need to get down to the stage."
They started moving and shuffling: Will stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, Benny put down his beer, and Santiago tossed back his drink. Frankie had disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to watch them all go by.
Tom turned back to you, "What are you doing? You're going down with us. ‘Can't write about the show if you aren't there."
You felt the rush of adrenaline surge through your body. Your face broke out into a huge grin.
"Yeah, right. Okay."
Tom smiled and turned, heading for the door. You followed him, trying to keep up with his strides. Backstage was a flurry of activity and you felt like you were on a hamster wheel trying to stay out of the way. You couldn't help but stare at the scene before you, the lights and the sounds, the smell.
After navigating through the throng of people and equipment, you found yourself on the side of the stage, the lights dim and the sound of the audience humming through the floorboards. While Tom had stopped to talk with one of the lighting guys, you could see the boys getting into their instruments and tuning up.
You looked over and saw Frankie. He had taken off his hat and was carding his hand through his thick hair. His mouth was turned down into a frown, but you could see the glimmer of his eyes.
He looked up at you. Your breath hitched and you could feel your cheeks start to burn. He held your gaze for a moment before turning away and putting his hat back on.
Suddenly, the lights dimmed and the audience erupted in cheers. The guys, including Tom, went into a huddle and you slowly inched yourself closer, not wanting to miss this moment.
You heard Benny shout, "Let's get it done tonight, boys! Let's give the fans what they came for."
You could see Santiago's grin spread across his face, "This is our mission. Our job. Our purpose."
Tom placed his hand into the middle, "I'm proud of you, boys. Now, let's go fucking rock this shit."
They put their hands together and Santiago began to sing "Stop, hey, what's that sound..."
Like a ritual, the rest of the men in the circle sang "Everybody look what's going down."
With that, the boys dispersed and you felt so lucky to be in that moment. You feel their connection, their comradery, their love.
You saw Tom pat Benny on the back. "Showtime!" he boomed. Benny ran onto the stage and the crowd roared. You could hear the clatter of sticks in the air as Benny hit the cymbal to start playing their song "Echoes".
The rest of the guys filed onto the stage and you were immediately struck by the sheer energy radiating off the crowd. They were cheering, clapping, dancing. There was so much movement and excitement and you felt the hairs on your arms stand up.
The band started their set with a bang. You watched as Santiago worked the crowd, his voice smooth and strong. He walked slowly, confidently, swaying with every step. The crowd was eating out of the palm of his hand.
You'd never experienced a concert like this, being able to watch from the sidelines and take in everything. The lights, the sound, the way the crowd responded.
Your eyes drifted to Frankie. He was focused and precise with his guitar, his hands moving effortlessly across the strings. You watched the muscles in his arms flex and strain as he played along with the concentration in his eyes.
The rest of the concert flew by. Before you knew it, the band was finishing up their final song, and the crowd was going crazy. You watched as Santiago, Frankie, Benny, and Will took their final bows.
The audience screamed. Santiago leaned over and spoke into the microphone, "Los Angeles, thank you. We love you! Goodnight!"
And with that, the lights dimmed and the guys filed off stage. Tom turned and motioned for you to follow as he led you to a different area where the guys were drinking bottles of water and catching their breath.
Benny was sweating, his face flushed red. "Man, we really fucking killed it."
Santiago grinned, wiping his brow. "You bet your ass we did. That was one of the best shows we've done."
Frankie was leaning against the wall, a bottle of water in his hand. He was drinking it slowly, his eyes looking up and meeting yours.
Will looked over at you and gave you a wink. "Did you enjoy the show?"
"Oh my god, yes. That was incredible." You were trying to be professional, but your excitement was starting to show through, an excitement that Santiago could start to see through.
Santiago clapped his hands together. "Excellent. Now that we've broken your legs, I think it's time for the afterparty. Are you coming with us?"
"The afterparty?"
"Of course," Tom chimed in, "you don't have to go, but it might give you some time to chat with the guys more and get some quotes. These things tend to be a good time so I can also book you a room, on us. It's at the Chateau Marmont."
"Holy shit."
"That's the spirit." Santiago winked.
You hesitated, knowing how big a decision this was. The idea of the afterparty excited you, but it was also a chance to spend more time with these guys. To talk to them one-on-one and maybe get some insights that would really sell the article.
You took a deep breath and looked around the room, at the guys waiting expectantly.
"Alright, count me in."
You could have sworn you saw Frankie's lip twitch up into a smile.
-------------------------
The afterparty was at a bungalow at the Chateau Marmont and it was a mess of people, noise, and debauchery. You tried to take it all in but you just couldn't. There was too much happening at once.
You found a bar top to sit at, watching the scene unfold. Santiago was at the piano playing some old jazz tunes and laughing with gorgeous women surrounding him. Tom was chatting up some record exec, a scotch in his hand. You even saw Benny and Will having an impromptu arm wrestling match in the corner. Frankie so far wasn't anywhere to be found.
The music, the lights, the alcohol. All of it was almost overwhelming and you were starting to wonder why you decided to come.
This world of excess and debauchery was so foreign to you, a far cry from the quiet solitude of your apartment where you usually did your writing. You've been to parties but nothing like this. You thought about your male coworkers at Rolling Stone, who seemed to fit seamlessly into the rock and roll lifestyle, effortlessly bonding with their subjects over shared experiences and unspoken understandings.
You focused on scribbling notes in your notebook, trying to make sense of the chaos around you and organize your thoughts about the concert. The more you wrote, the more your head cleared, and you found yourself able to better compartmentalize everything you'd experienced.
As you were finishing up your notes, you felt a tap on your shoulder.
"Hey."
You turned and saw Santiago standing behind you. He had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand and his eyes were slightly bloodshot.
"Hey." You replied.
He moved to stand beside you, looking at the party in front of you.
"What are you doing over here by yourself? Having fun?" He asked, taking a swig of the whiskey.
You shrugged, "I guess I just wanted to take everything in, get a feel of the scene. "
"Through your notepad?" He asked, gesturing towards your notes.
"Yeah, uh, it's easier for me to write things down."
"Ah," he took another swig, "can I ask you a question?"
You looked up at him. He was staring down at you, a smirk on his face.
"Sure."
"Why do you wanna write a story about us?"
It wasn't the question you were expecting. You had prepared for a list of generic questions like how you got into writing and your favorite bands, but this one caught you off guard.
"Because..." You hesitated, not sure how to answer, "...because I think you guys are cool."
Santiago smirked, leaning in.
"Cool? That's it?"
"Yeah," you said, feeling slightly defensive. "I think you guys have something special."
He chuckled to himself, taking a joint from a walking passerby, and taking a hit. "That's what they all say."
"All who?"
"People, the press. They all want to write a story about the cool, rebellious, rock and roll band, but the thing is, no one ever actually gets it."
"Maybe because the people who write about you are only interested in the glamorous lifestyle and not the reality of it."
He cocked his eyebrow.
"The reality?"
"Yeah," you said, closing your notebook. "I don't want to write a story about what I see here. This is a party, a show. It's not what's real."
Santiago studied you for a moment, and you felt the tension in the air between you. It was as if he was trying to read you, to figure out what made you tick.
"I'm here to witness the magic, the brotherhood. You can feel the bond between you guys: it's real, it's tangible, it's magnetic. People come to see your shows to see it. Shit, people come to the Chateau Marmont at 1 AM to see it. People want more."
You met his gaze, unwavering. You weren't going to back down.
He laughed, taking a step back. "Okay, okay. I believe you."
You smiled, relieved.
"But I'm gonna let you in on a little secret…Tom? He's over the moon, hunky fuckin' dory that you're writing this piece, but the truth is? We're a little skeptical, a little worried. We wanna look good but we also don't want this to be a puff piece. You've convinced me though, I believe you when you say you wanna do something different. So here's the deal - if you want the real story, the one that matters, you need to prove it."
You swallowed.
"And how do I do that?"
He smirked, gesturing to the crowd. "Come hang with us, chill out, see how we are when it's just us. If you can do that, I'll tell you whatever you wanna know. If you wanna get to know the real us, you gotta dive in."
Santiago offered you the joint, and you took it from him, putting it to your lips and inhaling.
He grinned. "Welcome to the team."
You hesitated for a moment. You wanted to get the real story, the one that mattered, but you were afraid. What if you didn't fit in? What if the guys didn't like you?
But Santiago had a point. You needed to prove yourself, and what better way than by actually hanging out with the band?
So you sucked it up, took a long drag off the joint, and threw caution to the wind.
----------------------------------
You weren't sure how much time had passed, but the party was still in full swing. The doubts and fears that plagued you had floated away along with your sobriety. Santiago had been a great host, introducing you to people, making sure you had a drink in your hand, and keeping the conversation going. You'd lost track of how many drinks you'd had, but you were feeling good.
He'd also gotten you better acquainted with Will and Benny. Will was reserved but he was incredibly knowledgeable about music, and you spent most of your conversation talking about some of the more obscure bands you both liked in common. With Benny, he was the life of the party. He had an infectious smile and was quick to laugh.
Frankie was another story entirely.
Frankie had eventually been found at the party but he'd stayed off to the side, talking quietly with a group of people, occasionally smoking a cigarette or sipping from a glass. You watched him throughout the night.
He'd glance at you from time to time, his eyes dark and unreadable. His gaze would linger, sending shivers down your spine. You would try to catch his eye, but he'd look away before you could make contact.
A model that you recognized from a cover of Cosmopolitan pulled out a baggie of coke and offered some to everyone at the table. You politely declined and headed for the bathroom.
You walked around the hallway and saw a few sets of doors. You opened a door to see Tom sitting on the bed, the phone cord stretched across the room.
"Of course I'm thinking about this damn offer, it's all I can think about. Fuck, I just don't know if this is the right move. If I had another band under my roster the boys would kill me, but the money they're offering? It's the kind of money we can't turn down."
You tried to back out of the room quietly, but sobriety be damned, the heel of your shoe clicked loudly on the hardwood floor as you tripped. Tom turned, his eyebrows raised and his expression a mixture of surprise and concern.
You mouthed an apology and quickly made your way out of the room. Humiliation and embarrassment flooding through you, you decided you needed some air.
You made your way outside, the cool air hitting your face. You inhaled deeply, trying to clear your mind and slow your racing heart. You only had a bit of context but you knew that wasn't a conversation you were supposed to hear.
You sat down on the ground, resting your head against the wall. You could feel your body relax, the tension easing from your shoulders.
As you closed your eyes, the events of the evening replayed in your head. The music, the energy, the excitement.
Suddenly, you felt someone sit next to you. You looked over and saw Frankie, his expression still unreadable.
"Hey."
"Hi." You tried to sound casual, hoping the high pitch in your voice didn't sell you out.
He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly. The smoke curled in the air, dancing in the breeze.
You sat in silence for a moment, watching the smoke drift away, trying to distract yourself from the man in front of you.
"Having fun?" Frankie's voice was low and husky, his question caught you off guard. "What do you think of all of this so far?"
"It's definitely not what I'm used to."
He chuckled, and you couldn't help but smile. He took another cigarette from the carton, offering one to you.
You took the cigarette from him and he lit it, the flame flickering in the darkness. You felt the smoke fill your lungs.
"What are you used to then?" He asked, his eyes locked on yours.
"Lighting a joint at the end of a long day, writing a draft for an article, and throwing it in the trash. Sitting at home alone and wondering if I'm ever gonna break out."
Frankie smiled. "We're not what you expected, huh?"
You laughed, shaking your head. "Not at all."
You took another drag of the cigarette. The combination of weed, whiskey, and nicotine was making your head spin, and you couldn't stop the giggle that escaped your lips.
Frankie smirked.
"Lightweight."
You nodded, leaning your head against the wall. You looked over at Frankie, his profile illuminated by the moonlight. He was handsome, his jawline sharp and his lips full. His hair was tousled under his hat and his stubble was perfectly trimmed. You could see the muscles in his arms flex as he brought the cigarette to his mouth, and you felt your breath hitch.
You looked away, feeling a blush creep up your neck. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol, the drugs, or his presence that was making you feel so flustered.
"What are you doing out here anyways?" You asked, trying to distract yourself from the butterflies in your stomach.
Frankie shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I could ask you the same question."
You laughed, the alcohol and weed finally settling in.
"I was feeling a bit overwhelmed, I needed some fresh air."
Frankie nodded, understanding. "I'm not really one for big parties."
"Is that why you weren't around earlier?"
He gave you a curious look. "You really are quite the observant reporter."
You grinned. "I'm a professional."
He smirked, your gaze turning back to the sky. You couldn't help but feel his eyes linger on your skin, you felt like you were burning up.
"I'm just not a huge fan of the crowds. I like the music, the shows, but the parties are sometimes too much."
"I can understand that."
"Can you?"
You looked at him, surprised by his question. "Of course."
He raised his eyebrow. "How so?"
You shrugged. "I've had my share of experiences. Not quite like this, but enough that I get it. Sometimes I'd rather just sit back with a joint and observe it all."
Frankie's lips twitched into a small smile. "Me too."
You couldn't help but smile back. He seemed much less guarded now.
You took another drag of your cigarette; the smoke swirling around the two of you.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Frankie glanced at you, the corner of his mouth twitching again.
"Sure."
"What brought you into music? How'd you end up here?"
He considered your question for a moment, tapping the ashes of his cigarette.
"Well, I just always loved music. I was a quiet kid and my parents weren't around a lot. Santi moved to Miami when we were eight and we just immediately hit it off. Whatever he did, I did. If he joined the baseball team, I joined the baseball team. And then he started playing guitar. We'd sit in his garage for hours and play. I never knew I wanted to be a musician until then. It just felt right."
He paused, taking a long drag of his cigarette.
"How'd you get into journalism?"
You froze. The truth was, you had no idea. You just always felt drawn to writing. You had a knack for it and it came easily to you. You never had any grand plan or vision, it was more like a calling.
"I guess I just felt called to it. I was always writing stories as a kid and then I wanted to write about real people and real stories."
He studied you, his eyes searching yours.
"So far, do you like my story?"
You grinned, "I don't know your story yet."
He smiled, exposing a dimple as you felt your heart skip a beat.
"It's been a long time since I've actually talked to someone like this."
"Me too."
There was a moment of comfortable silence. You could hear the sounds of the city around you, the cars honking, the music and laughter drifting from inside. Suddenly, you heard the door open and Tom stepped out.
"Some chick from Apple Records just threw up on my Italian boots. This is a disaster."
Frankie rolled his eyes. "You've had worse, Tom."
Tom groaned. "I'm gonna call it a night. You guys have that radio station interview tomorrow and I need to get ready for it in the morning."
"I should probably get some sleep too." Frankie stretched out and yawned, his shirt riding up and exposing a strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans.
You felt your mouth go dry and quickly looked away.
"Did you get the room key I left for you?" Tom asked you. "We rented out the whole second floor, so you've got your pick of rooms."
"Yeah, thanks." You dug into your back pocket, pulling out the key.
"I gotta clean this shit up so I'll see you guys in the morning."
He retreated away from the cottage, leaving you and Frankie alone once more.
You stood, dusting off the back of your pants. "I guess I should get some sleep, I'm pretty wasted."
"I'm heading up myself, so I can walk you to your hotel room."
"Oh, okay." You said in a high-pitched tone.
"Unless you don't want me to."
"No! No, I want you to, I just wasn't sure if you wanted to say goodnight to the guys?"
"They're honestly too fucked up to remember anything right now. Besides, I'd rather make sure you get there safe."
You blushed, the alcohol and weed still affecting you. "Thanks."
You and Frankie made your way back into the main building, the party still raging on from the cottage nearby. While you walked through the halls and into the elevator, you marveled at the luxury of the famous chateau. You'd heard so many stories but to say you'd gone to a party there, even for a couple of hours, was something you’d never forget.
The two of you got into the elevator, and you were acutely aware of Frankie's presence. He was tall–at least a foot taller than you–and his shoulders were broad and muscular. You could smell his scent, a mixture of spice, nicotine, and citrus.
The both of you got off on the second floor, walking silently down the hallway. The hotel was dark and quiet; it was as if the rest of the world had faded away.
You reached your room, fumbling with the key and unlocking the door.
"This is me."
Frankie nodded. "Good night."
You stepped into the room and turned around, watching as he walked away.
"Good night."
You watched him disappear around the corner, the butterflies in your stomach erupting again.
Once the door had shut behind you, you exhaled a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You were still buzzing from the alcohol and the pot but there was something else, an energy that you hadn't felt before.
You stripped off your clothes, letting them pool on the floor, and crawled into the bed. As you drifted off, you felt yourself smile.
-------------------------
You were jolted awake by the shrill ring of the hotel telephone. Before you could even think, your head was already pounding from last night and its excess. You squinted at the clock next to you, the bold white words focusing on 9:30 AM.
"Hello?" Your voice was hoarse and still heavy with sleep.
"Morning! It's Tom." Tom sounded surprisingly chipper given last night's circumstances with his Italian shoes. Not one to beat around the bush, he started, "I have a proposition for you."
You were instantly alert, sitting up straight in the bed. "Oh yeah? What's that?"
"I had a long talk with Santiago this morning. About you."
You swallowed nervously. You knew that whatever it was, it couldn't be good.
"Okay.."
"He told me that you really want to tell the real story of the band, that you want to get to the bottom of who we are."
You paused, considering your words carefully.
"That's correct. I think there's more to your story, more than meets the eye."
"That's exactly what I thought, which is why I have an offer for you."
You held your breath. You didn't want to seem eager but you couldn't help the excitement building inside of you.
"I'm listening."
"Rolling Stone wants an in-depth piece, right? Well, what better way to get that than by joining us on tour?"
Your heart skipped a beat as his words sunk in.
"You mean..go on tour with you guys? Be a part of the band?"
"It's the only way to really understand us, right? Get into our world, our culture, and experience it for yourself. I already pitched it to your editor and he said as long as the label pays for expenses and you're game, he's game."
You were astounded at the things that Tom Davis could get done before noon.
"But..how would that work? Where would I stay? I don't have any experience touring or writing on the road."
You took a deep breath, processing everything Tom had just told you. "I'd be lying if I said that this wasn't an incredible offer."
"An incredible offer you can't refuse?"
You couldn't help but smile, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. "An incredible offer I can't refuse."
Tom let out a hearty laugh, "That's what I like to hear! Look, we've already discussed it amongst ourselves, and as for accommodations, we're a tight-knit group, we always look out for one another. You'll have a place to crash every night, always a nice hotel to stay in."
Your mind was racing with possibilities. The chance to immerse yourself in their world, to witness their artistry up close and personal—it was an opportunity unlike any other. "What about interviews? Will I have unrestricted access?"
Tom nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. We want this to be as authentic as possible. You'll have full access to everyone in the band, backstage, on the bus, wherever we go. Just promise me one thing."
"What's that?"
"Promise me you won't hold back. We want the real story, the gritty details, the highs and lows of life on the road. Don't sugarcoat anything."
You nodded with determination. "I promise, Tom. I'll give it my all."
"Good," he said with a satisfied smile. "I have a feeling you're going to fit right in."
As you pressed down on the end call button, a surge of adrenaline shot through your veins. This was it - the opportunity to delve deep into the core of the band and capture their raw energy in words for all to experience. Just thinking about it made your heart race, and as you thought of Frankie, you felt an unfamiliar warmth in your belly.
You'd have a new adventure ahead of you, one that would change your life forever.
#frankie morales#triple frontier#frankie catfish morales#Frankie morales smut#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x y/n#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie catfish morales x you#triple frontier au#triple frontier fic#triple frontier fanfic#triple frontier smut#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal#triple frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fic
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｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ 「 SWEET BOY 」 ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
「 MASTERLISTS 」 | 「 AEW MASTERLIST 」 「 MARK DAVIS MASTERLIST 」
「 COMMISION INFO 」 | 「 LIKE MY WORK? BUY ME A COFFEE — KOFI — DXDDYHXUSEN 」
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「 COMMISION FOR 」 — @quipsykayls
｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
「 SUMMARY 」 — the sweetest moments in life are waking up beside him
「 WARNINGS 」 — none
「 WORD COUNT 」 — 274
「 PAIRING 」 — fem!reader x mark davis
「 GENRE 」 — fluff
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「 TAGLIST 」 — @cosmoholic13 @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @adamjf @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @violetmacher @seeingstarks @kennysbadkitten @darkangelchronicles @ripleyswife @selena-tyler-564 @auburnwrites @biforrollynch
「 COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST 」
｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
your eyelids fluttered open
mind still subtlety entranced in a perfect slumber
your body pressed against the warmth of his broad chest
his heat radiating onto you
head nestled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent
completely enamoured with you despite still being in a deep sleep
you gazed up at him fondly
fingers tracing delicately around the high points of his face
across the swell of his cheeks, down to his lips
they were soft against the pad of your thumb, mingling in with the tingle from his moustache
he was beautiful, so ruggedly handsome
your belly could not help but do flips in adoration every time you gazed upon his features
his eyes opened slowly to meet your gaze
pupils instantly blown wide with affection
he muffled a soft “good morning” with a usual morning groan
that rough australian twang met your ears somewhat an octave deeper like it did every other morning
it was a good morning indeed, for the first thing he saw was your face
“morning…” you mumbled into his chest, planting a small kiss to the skin
his hand fell to the back of your head, gently stroking and twirling your head
“god you’re beautiful…” he began, flooding your veins with loving praise
his large palm cupped your cheek, smoothing down the skin with the pad of his thumb
by the way you two acted people still thought you were in the honeymoon phase of your relationship
which wasn’t entirely false
everyday you wake up and just feel an overwhelming amount of love each time you see him
and of course he reciprocated those feelings wholeheartedly
｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡ ｡ ･ : * ˚ : ✧ ｡
#{ my fics : 🤍 }#mark davis#mark davis x reader#mark davis imagine#aew#wrestling imagine#aew imagine#aew wrestling#aew fanfiction
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౨ৎ⋆˚౨ “be a good boy” ৎ⋆｡౨ৎ
ᡣ𐭩 request by anon
ᡣ𐭩 sub!clapton x dom!reader
ᡣ𐭩 mentions // “good boy” , “mommy”, fem reader, female parts
ᡣ𐭩 tags // clapton davis x reader, soft!dom , edging, use of “mommy” as referred to reader, pet names , begging , unprotected p in v (wrap it) , oral sex, reader giving , dick sucking , cum drinking , blurb!
clapton has always teased you. whether it was your hair, your clothes or just you in general. and god it was pissing you off. you knew it had to root from some sick crush he has on you but it went so much deeper than that.
that is until you got to be alone with him. it’s like as soon as he came over to your house for some project, he was putty in your hands
“god….just please fuck me” he whimpers as your lips wrap about his tip, using your tongue as you swipe it just on his slit, causing precum to drip out of him.
“you know, you’ve been really bad these last few months, do you think you deserve to be punished? it’s only fair, don’t you think?” you remove your mouth from him and kiss his shaft, leaving lip gloss marks on the parts of him you can’t take in your mouth.
“y- yes mommy. i’ve been bad, please- please punish me. i’ll be a good boy for you….ill be your good boy” he whimpers, his hand almost desperate to push your head down to engulf his aching cock before he stops himself.
“now tell me, do you think you deserve to cum baby? tell me. do you think you deserve it?” you say, no remorse behind your eyes. you love seeing him like this, sweaty and down bad for you.
he shakes his head slowly as a look of defeat washes over him. he knows he doesn’t deserve to be inside you but god, how he wants it so badly. he’ll do almost anything for the taste of your cum.
“but i’ll spare you. i’ll fuck you, but you’ll have to be quiet if you want to cum, can you do that for me? be quiet for me?” you say as you press a kiss on his tip.
“y- yes…mommy.. uh - i…i can do that” he whimpers. but god knows he can’t keep quiet to save his life, always little whimpers and noises coming out of him. you remove your panties, the wetness pooling out of you. you push him back on the bed as you sit comfortably on his throbbing cock, making him whimper at the sensation of being inside your soft wet pussy
his eyes fall to the site of your thighs wrapped around him, his face turning red as he starts bouncing you on top of him, expertly hitting your gspot each time. “i- am- am i being good for you-?” he whimpers as his hands grip your hips, his eyes rolling back in his head as his jaw goes slack.
you look at him, grasping his chin with your hand, making him look at you. “look at me while i use you, let me ruin you. gonna make you such a little slut for me” you say. “gonna be my little whore right?” you say, still gripping his chin with your thumb and index finger, waiting for a response.
“m-mhm, yeah. gonna be your slut- oh fuck mommy-“ he says, his dick twitching inside of you, signaling he’s about to cum.
but god, he’s been so bad these last few weeks you can’t let him off that easily. you remove yourself from off top of him, watching your own release pool out of him, directly on his dick.
he immediately whimpers “no no no, please mommy- come back please…i need to cum- please mommy i’ve been so good” his voice is high and needy, his eyes are worried and panicked.
god, you can’t say no to him. you wrap your plus lips over the head of his dick, bobbing on his dick. your eyes dart up at him- his jaw is slack and his eyes are rolled deep in his head,
“fuck- yes…please mommy, god please.” he whimpers as a loud grunt escapes him. “be quiet if you want to cum” you say, mouth still full of his cock.
he quiets at your request, only letting small soft moans escape his lips. you take his full shaft. after a few moments you feel his hands grip your hair, and his dick twitching in your mouth.
“f- fuck i….m’gonna cum-“ he moans as he thrusts into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. thank god you don’t have a gag reflex.
soon enough thick white warmness shots down your throat, drinking up every bit of his cum. he removes himself from your mouth, you truly drank every last drop of him. short and quiet “thank you”s leave him as he pants.
you wish he would talk back more often.
#jerseywrites#jealousjersey#clapton davis x reader#clapton davis smut#clapton x reader#clapton davis#josh hutcherson#mike shmidt#fanfic#five nights at freddy's#smut#mike schmidt x reader smut#mike schimdt fanfic#jersey writes#mike schmidt headcanons#jhutch#josh futterman fluff#josh futterman smut#josh futturman#sean anderson
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do u think u could write a modern AU for koby from one piece (specifically the live action) where he's a virgin and reader is more experienced so she rides him and praises him while taking his virginity? cause just imagine him whimpering and whining from the feeling of being in u and he's only ever used his hand so its all new for him
Can't Wait (virgin!Koby x F!Reader)
Warnings: Smut, oral (fem reviving), p in v, hair pulling, college AU, established relationship, biting, praise, fluff
Word Count: 718
Notes: MORGAN FUCKING DAVIES IS SO PRETTY MY GOD also writer's block is so ASS
"This good?" you asked, slowly sinking down on his cock. Moments before you guys were just watching a movie, laughing and telling jokes when suddenly Koby asked- no, he pleaded for you to finally take you guys' relationship to the next level.
His hands roamed your body, gripping and squeezing at your hips, thighs, ass and tits. He looked up at you and nodded, "Yes, yes it's good ah!" he moaned, head resting on your shoulder.
"Let me know when you want me to move." you sat still, or as still as you possibly could but Koby was filling you up and you just wanted to move and feel him twitch inside of you.
You didn't want to be rough with him especially considering that it's his first time. But at the same time, you just wanted to bounce on his cock and hear his whines fill the room.
"I'm ready, y-you can move..." his face was red, and his lips swollen from the number of times you've kissed him. You lifted yourself up and slowly sunk down. You repeated this slowly for a little before his whimpers filled your ears. You didn't want to go too fast for him, so you buried your head in his neck and sunk your teeth in his flesh. Biting and sucking, leaving marks that contrasted his skin.
He dug his nails in the fat of your thighs and hip. "Can you...can you go faster? P-Please...?" He asked, letting out an airy moan. "Yeah, baby." you smiled, picking up your pace.
Koby threw his head back and grabbed at your hips. The warm feeling of your gummy walls and the way you clenched around him was such a wonderful feeling. God, he wonders why he didn't ask for this sooner.
Usually he'd just jerk off to a memory of you, or even your voice just wondering how you felt but the poor boy was just too nervous to ask, he's glad he did though. Finally getting that feeling of your skin on his, your pretty cunt swallowing his cock, Even your moans which were growing louder and louder made him wish he asked way sooner.
"You're doing s'good baby, so so good,"
The praise went in his ear and sent shivers down his body. He never thought he'd like that. He'd do whatever you wanted just to hear those words fall from your perfect lips.
Koby's hips bucked up and he pulled you down at the same time, earning a gasp from you. The feeling was so good that he just kept doing it. You gripped his shoulders, nails digging into him. He slowed his movements, "W-what? Did you not like it? I could stop,"
"No! No, I liked it. Please, keep going,"
He looked up at you and nodded, he leaned back against the headboard of his bed and lifted his hips while having you bounce on him.
Though, your legs started getting just a bit tired, but you wanted to keep going, to make his first time the best time.
"I- I'm gonna cum,"
"Then cum baby, you did so good, look so pretty under me."
"I do?"
The way he asked that while looking up at you. The way his glasses were fogging up and resting on the lower part of his nose. His lips were wet and puffy and red from the number of times you've kissed him and the number of times he has been biting and tugging at his lips.
You nodded your head as best as you could. Your hips started to stutter, and you tugged at Koby's hair. He moaned into your shoulder and pulled you extremely and impossibly close to him.
Your thighs tightened around his hips as the two of you came. The euphoric feeling of your cum sliding down his cock and onto his thighs made him slightly blush and may have gotten him hard again.
He rested his head in between your neck and held you for a while. When he leaned back and looked at you through low lids and a flushed face he smiled.
"Thank you,"
His voice was raspy and hoarse.
"You're welcome, my pretty boy.
"Do you think..we could go again?" he asked, fingers lightly tracing circles on your hips, "Yeah, but you're taking the lead."
#smut#smut smut fic#smut smut smut#smutty#fluff#fem reader#female reader#op koby#koby one piece#koby#koby x reader#koby x you#koby smut
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Welcome to Mandela county!
This blog is ran by 2 people, me(host Adam) and my friend host Cesar. We are both over the age of 18 and are both currently taking requests!
all of our works are works of fiction, please don't take them too seriously!
☆Things we’ll write about:
Head canons
One shots
Small fics/imagines(that may or may not become a full fic)
Fluff
Slightly suggestive stuff (no sexualisation though.)
Angst
Plantonic relationships
Romantic relationships
Gore/mention of injury
Character death
Character x reader
Fem reader
Gn reader
Male reader
Poly relationships
☆Things we won't write about:
NSFW
Racist themes
Themes of domestic abuse/violence
Pedophilia/large age gaps
Oc x Character
Character x Character
any themes that make us uncomfortable.
☆DNI:
transphobes
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⚠️you will be blocked if any of the DNI's apply to you
(Please keep in mind that we only write for the Mandela catalogue)
Characters we won't write for:
Thatcher
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N
And that concludes our introduction and rules,
If you request anything please be patient as we am not Time-sensitive and please don't be rude.
-host Adam .
…
Nothing is worth the risk.
Nothing is worth the risk.
Nothing is worth the risk.
Nothing is worth the risk.
Nothing is worth the risk.
Nothing is worth the risk.
I’m not worth the risk.
#nothing is worth the risk#tmc x reader#rules#blog rules#tmc#evelin miller#adam murray#Adam writes.#mandela county#the mandela catalogue#cesar torres#jonah marshall#mark heathcliff#sarah heathcliff#thatcher davis#the intruder#6#Gabriel#alternate#bps#host Adam#Cesar writes#host Cesar
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𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓����𝐎
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⬩ pairing(s) carmen "carmy" berzatto x musician!reader, luca davies-bernardi x musician!reader, sebastian "sebby" garvey (original male character) x musician!reader
⬩ warning(s) language, emotionally toxic relationship, sad girl!reader (but it's okay bc it's gonna get better!), nervous!scattered-brained!carmen, sweet!luca, anxiety, mention of injury (burn), smoking (mentioned), some smut, (bad unsatisfying) penetrative sex (p in v), protected sex, bodily fluids (mentioned), oral (m receiving), delusional bf syndrome, negative feelings during sex
⬩ author's note it's here! it's here! finally had some time to sit down a finish this, and i'm excited!! next chapter will have heavy luca and carmen interaction with reader to make up for seb in this chapter lol. make sure to heed the warnings before you read! hope everyone enjoys <3
⬩ word count 2.4k
Carmen traces the pattern on the stair runner—a deep, wine red with flickers of brown and gold—to steady his breathing as he and Luca follow you up the stairs to the bathroom.
Beets for red.
The three of you together in the small bathroom is a tight fit, but you make it work. Carmen, standing stiff with his back to the sink while you make a b-line for the aloe vera and cotton balls that sit in a nearby cabinet. Luca takes a spot leaning against the doorframe, curious eyes watching you as you move.
With your back turned, you don’t see the two catching eyes. Luca gives Carmen a quick raise of his eyebrows. Carmen responds with a widening of his, and they just barely return to their normal size by the time you turn back around. You set down the contents in your hand–a bottle of aloe vera, a few cotton balls, and a large band-aid the men didn’t notice you grab–onto the counter next to Carmen before holding out a delicate hand.
“May I?”
Carmen stares down at where your palm lays outstretched before him. It takes a long second for him to even think about moving. Another moment ticks by and Carmen finally raises his hand to put in yours. His skin jumps at the feeling, breath coming out shaky.
He thinks you’re going to say something about him. Make a joke about how long he took to give you his hand, but you do no such thing. All you do is give him a small smile and begin your work.
The men let you coat and dab at Carmen’s hand in the quiet. You’re about halfway through when you decide to break the silence.
“So how’d this happen?”
Your question falls soft onto Carmen’s ears. His has to blink a few times, as you’re looking over his hand with such care. The mark is an angry red and stings like a bitch, but your gaze makes it a little easier to bear, which only further ruffles the nerve bumbling around in Carmen’s stomach. The aloe vera does some work, too.
“We, uh, we work in a cellar,” Carmen mumbles back, not really thinking. Both he and Luca see you pause to process the information, then simply nod, accepting it with ease.
Luca almost laughs as he clarifies, “we work in a restaurant that happens to be in a cellar.”
“Ah, okay,” you nod again. “What’s that like?”
“It’s…” Luca trails off, searching for the correct work. “It’s intense.”
A short chuckle from Carmen. His way of adding that’s a understatement. “It’s great, though. We love it,” he finishes for Luca, who nods in agreement.
“That actually sounds really cool,” you admit as you place the band-aid onto Carmen’s skin, and smooth it over. Luca grins a little. Carmen bobs his head, unable to look you in the eye.
“Yeah, yeah, it is. Cool,” Carmen parrots, eyes finding the courage to look into yours. “And, uh, thank you for this. Really, thank you.”
You have to remind yourself to breathe as you gaze back at Carmen. The blues of his iris are something magical and incredible and moving. Your body forces you to swallow before you reply with a kind, “you’re welcome.”
Carmen’s middle jumps at your words. Suddenly, the bathroom is three-sizes smaller than when he’d entered and there’s not enough air for him to function properly. He blinks at you one last time before heading for the door. Luca steps to the side to let Camren through, who remembers to throw you one more thank you before he’s hooking around the bathroom exit and back down the hall.
It’s just you and Luca now. He gives you a sheepish smile, eyes flicking to what you’ve left on the counter. He’s over and clearing the small mess of loose band-aid wrappers and used cotton balls.
“Oh, you don’t have to…” you start, but Luca is dropping the piled waste into the garbage can. “...do that.”
Luca shrugs, brushing off his hands.
“It’s the least I could do. And I know Carm already said it, but thank you for helping him out. That burn would’ve just gotten worse and worse if not for you.”
It’s your turn to shrug.
“It was no trouble,” you promise. “Happy to help.”
Luca smiles at you, again, and fuck if that doesn’t make you feel good. A tick of silence passes, and you can’t think of anything to say.
“Can I walk you back down?”
You warm at the inquiry, nodding at him with a shy smile. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
The two of you trail downstairs in a quiet that doesn’t make your stomach turn, and it’s refreshing. It allows you to breathe and take in the tattoos across Luca arms as the swing just beside yours. They’re similar to the ones you saw dancing across Carmen’s skin. You wonder if they got any of them together.
When you return to the hallway between the kitchen and the main room, Luca’s mouth opens a bit, like he’s looking for something to say. To keep the two of you in the moment, but he’s interrupted.
“Where’d you run off to? Been looking for you.”
It’s Sebastian, striding down the hallway and up to where you and Luca stand. The violinist doesn’t even glance at the man on the other side of you.
“Hey, I was just–”
You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before Seb is speaking again.
“Think I’m ready for that drink now. Just a beer or something, but make sure it’s cold, yeah?”
A nod from you. Luca doesn’t notice when you glance at him as you head back for the kitchen. Sebastian is already looking back at him. The two share a long stare before Luca smiles to himself and leaves Sebastian to follow you into the kitchen.
You startle at the unexpected, “who was that guy?”
Your spin reveals an awaiting Sebastian. He leans against the frame of the entrance, arms crossed and head tilted as he gazes at you. His eyebrows are pinched together in that way that makes you feel on edge. How your father looked at you when you were younger. You have to swallow before answering.
“I don’t know,” you mumble with a shrug. Turning your back on Sebastian, your eyes falls back on the drinks in front of you. Beer. He wanted beer. A cold one. “Just friends of some friends here, I think.”
Sebastian nods slowly. When you spin to hand him the bottle, he’s still looking at you. It’s different than before, though. His eyebrows have smoothened. His shoulders droop a little easier. And there’s something softer in his eyes. Yet the knot on your stomach doesn’t want to go away.
“What?”
Sebastian just grins at you.
.・゜゜・
“Okay, off,” Sebastian groans out, pulling his dick from your face for what feels like the hundredth time. “Shit, off, don’t wanna come yet.”
You wipe away the spit collecting on your chin with the back of your hand, and hold back a huff. Sebastian pants above you, slacks and belt bunched around his ankles. He glances down at you and smiles like he did back in the kitchen. A hand on the back of your head guides you back onto him. You suck and swirl and work with more energy than you thought you were going to be able to muster.
“Fuck, just like that. God, yeah. You love my cock, don’t you, baby? Love it so much, you’ll suck it anywhere. Even in Arya’s basement.”
Sebastian sees you roll your eyes and nearly loses it. At the moment, he’s completely incapable of realizing the action was out of anything but pleasure.
“See, just like I said,” he grins even wider. “You love it.”
Just upstairs are the rest of the guests. They are sprawled out around Arya’s cozily-sized living room. Across the couch, love seats, and even on the floor as they converse over drinks and more drinks.
“So, uh, how do you know each other again?”
Carmen asks, sitting to the left of Luca. On the other side of the older man is a guy named Kaj. His shoulder length hair is tied into a low bun, revealing an aged scar that scratches across his cheek, and a few freckles here and there. The three men are squished on one edge of the brown couch, a little warm from all the bodies in the room.
“Okay, so you remember that little kiosk I told you I worked at when I first moved here? While I was doing nights at the Thai place?”
Carmen nods at Luca.
“I worked there with him,” Kaj continues before plopping the olive from his small glass of vodka in his mouth. As he chews, a giggle leaves him. “And we fucking hated it. Couldn’t stand our boss.”
“That’s actually how we bonded–stealing his cigarettes and smoking them out back when he wasn’t paying attention.”
A huffed laugh leaves Carmen. “Damn. What’d he do to make you hate him so bad?”
Luca and Kaj share a look and a shrug. Finally, Luca sighs. “Was just an asshole. Got off on keeping us late just to do busy work he didn’t feel like doing. Always angry. Got pissy anytime he saw us smiling, just shit like that.”
“Hm,” Carmen thinks, raising his hand to scratch the back of his head. “Yeah, no. No, I’d steal his shit and smoke it, too. Sounds like a dick.”
Kaj smiles in agreement, but it falls when he sees the bandage on Carmen’s hand.
“Shit, what happened to your hand?”
Carmen pauses to follow Kaj’s eyes.
“Oh, uh, i-it’s nothing,” Carmen sniffs, shaking his head. “Burned my hand at work. No biggie. Someone here helped me patch up real quick.”
Something flashes behind Kaj’s eyes. It makes Carmen squirm.
“Ah, so that’s what you were doing with her.”
“With who?”
Carmen’s throat squeezes when he hears Kaj say your name. It's Luca's turn to squirm, but for a different reason.
“Yeah, she put some aloe on it. Got him all fixed up,” Luca glances at Carmen’s burning face, before remembering something. He leans in a little closer to Kaj and lowers his voice. “But hey, what’s the deal with her and that guy?”
Kaj has to think for a moment, then his eyes widen. His face reads amused as he looks at Luca.
“That guy?” He laughs. “You mean Seb? Sebastian Garvey?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Luca shrugs. Is he supposed to know who that is?
Another laugh leaves Kaj.
“They've been together for a while. Long enough to live together. They got a place down the road from here. Met at university. That’s why we’re here tonight, Seb just finished his junior recital. Everyone wanted to celebrate and, even thought she hates him, Arya has the nicest place, so…”
Luca takes in the information slowly. As he thinks to himself, someone taps Kaj on the shoulder, calling away his attention. Carmen still stares at Luca, wondering about the look on his friend’s face.
“What’s up?” Carmen questions. “You good?”
Luca barely nods, sending Carmen a tight smile. “Yeah.”
Carmen doesn’t break his stare from Luca, who’s still deep off in thought. He sniffs.
“It’s getting kinda tight in here. Burn one?”
A few seconds pass before Luca answers. “Sure, yeah. I’ll meet you out there in a second.”
Carmen leaves one last slap on Luca’s shoulder before shuffling his way out of the main room. He blows out a quick breath, and tries to shake out the nerves.
His steps thump against the wooden-floor, echoing all the way down to the basement, where Sebastian sloppily pounds into you from behind.
“Shit, sorry,” he huffs, dick slipping out a thrusting against the cheek of your ass. Again. “Fuck.”
He takes a second to slide back inside you, and returns his hand to your waist. A tumble of moans leaves him as he resumes his thrusting. His hips snap back and forth, and it feels kind of nice at most.
Not great. Not horrible. Just nice. Enough to drag one tiny whimper from you when he just barely brushes against your spot. A rush of frustration soon follows that numbs away any other pleasure that tries to sort its way through your tense body.
A broken moan from Sebastian pulls you back into the present. You push out a wail, hoping it sounds real enough to Seb.
Who are you kidding?
Of course, he’ll think it’s real. It’s not like he’s noticed the fabricated-nature of your sounds of pleasure before.
As you predicted, he doesn’t get close to catching it, too preoccupied with keeping his own moans to a minimal volume. His are real and you think it should make you feel better. It never does.
Sebastian tenses, and you can feel his cum seep into the condom you had to remind him to wear. You try to match what leaves him, forcing out a few more oh fucks with a sprikle of yes. He grinds into you one final time, a hand reaching around to guide your lips to his.
A few quick pecks are pressed into your mouth before he finally pulls back and out of you. Another shudder racks his body and he pulls you back to him.
“You’re amazing,” he mumbles with a heavy breath, softening-dick hanging between the two of you. “Fuck, that was great.”
A smile lifts the corner of your lips as you readjust your clothing. One more kiss is pressed against your cheek, Sebastian telling you, “I’ll see you upstairs, okay?”
And with that, he’s gone. Skipping his way up the steps as he zips his pants, and out of your sight. You have to blink. Then blink again. And again.
Your eyes dance around the room, to the trash can a few steps over. At the top of the small pile inside is the used condom. Shriveled and dirtied with Sebastian. Biting your lip, you push away the thought about feeling similar in a way. You crouch and make sure it’s covered by some loose papers and tissue.
Next, you make sure to straighten everything back to how you found it. Both an old habit and out of respect for Arya. You straighten the chair Sebastian had scooted out of the way–for reasons you know nothing about–and the blanket that sits atop it.
One last glance around the room gives you a chance to take a few deep breaths. To steady yourself and squeeze your hands a few times before slowly making your way to the steps.
You freeze at the bottom of the staircase. Grasping the rail for dear life.
© superhoeva
#the bear#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x you#luca x reader#chef luca x reader#carmen berzatto#luca the bear#chef luca#au: rule of three
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