#more updates from event week fics!
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The Babysitter (37)
Meet Me In My Office
MILF Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+
Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?
A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.
The Babysitter Master list | General Master List
Chapter 37- W/c 4.7k This chapter is entirely 18+ Smut
Tag list- @natsluttt @cerberus-spectre @dorabledewdroop @bibliophilicbi @hopelesslyfallenninlove @simpform1lfs @get-the-fuck-outta-here @natashaswife4125 @marvelwomen-simp @supercorpstan97 @aliherreraaa @aru-son @the-ox-fan20
Meet Me In My Office
A/N- Updates from now will be really slow regarding this fic as I was posting all the chapters from my AO3/Wattpad onto here and we have reached the final one prewritten. I am a college student with a busy life so apologies for the delays in writing. Enjoy the smut :)
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As soon as the door was quietly and carefully shut behind you, Wanda's body was pressed up against yours, her hands cupping your jaw, tilting your head up to meet her lips in a sensual kiss. You softly moaned into the kiss, the two of you smiling into it as her thumbs stroked your cheeks, her mouth moving against yours languidly as you leaned into her body, revelling in the feeling of her body so close to yours. Your hands glided down her body, resting on her hips, fingering sliding through the belt loops of her jeans to tug her closer to you, a smile playing on your lips as she pulls back, eyes darkening as she lets her gaze scan across your features.
It had been a tiring and eventful week with the twins now home constantly, yourself and Wanda juggling work and caring for the boys which proved harder than the two of you predicted, leaving you to both trudge into bed with nothing more than an innocent goodnight kiss. Now however, you longed to feel her touch, to be driven mad by her and it was becoming abundantly clear that she felt the same way about you.
The kiss that was slow and intimate swiftly built as desire and arousal pooled between your thighs, Wanda's fingers threading through your hair, tugging your head where she wanted as her leg slotted between your thighs, pressing into your core in the most perfect way. A groan left you when she pulled back from the kiss, your hips subtly grinding against her thigh when her teeth bit down on your lower lip gently and dragged it back, eventually releasing it and peering into your eyes with the most seductive look, the green in her eyes replaced with pure hunger.
"Detka," she sighs out sultrily at the shell of your ear, kissing along your jaw to murmur into your ear as she knew how wet her voice made you. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?" she groans lowly, accent wrapping around her words sinfully, your back arching off the wall to press further into her body, hips still slowly grinding against her leg, pleasure building in the pit of your stomach, "I can't get enough of you."
"Fuck Wanda," is all you can managed back in response, the older woman letting her kisses travel down the side of your neck, sucking faintly to leave a brief red mark before licking up a stripe against the column of your throat, smirking when she could feel the vibrations of your groan. "I need you," you practically whimper, not caring how pathetic you must sound, eyes begging her to do something, anything to you as her lips meet yours again, tongue effortlessly sliding into your mouth and swallowing your desperate sounds.
Her hands glide down your body as her tongue moves against yours, the kiss becoming lewd and messy as you mirrored her earlier actions, threading your fingers through her silky locks, keeping her close. You moaned into her mouth in surprise when her hands reached the back of your thighs, lifting you up and walking towards the bed as your legs wrapped instinctively around her waist, both of you smirking into the kiss. Gently, she lowered you onto the soft mattress, your hair sprawling behind you against the sheets as her body towered over you, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips as she lowered her mouth to ghost yours.
"Tell me what you want, Moya Lyubov," she husks out against your lips, nose brushing yours as she teasingly makes you try to chase her lips, smile turning dominant as she watches you part your lips, head tilting to try and catch her lips, eyes hazy with lust.
"You, just you," you sigh back, her leg returning to the spot between your thighs, firmly pressed against your core earning a moan in response, her eyes somehow darkening even more.
At your words, her mouth meets yours once more but this time it's different. It's hot, desperate and passionate but also loving and intimate, her conveying her love for you into it as she pours everything into the kiss, both of you moaning at the intensity of it. Your hands fist into the hem of her shirt, desperately holding her close as you get lost in the sensations of her addictive lips, touch, sounds. Fuck, she was just intoxicating.
Her fingers move to rest on the underside of your jaw, angling your head up for kiss after kiss as you gasp into each other's mouths, lips relentless as they refuse to part, your hips now comfortably grinding unabashedly against her knee, pleasure coursing through your mind.
"That's it Detka," she praises in a pant against you, eyes closed as she moves her kisses to your jaw, nibbling softly against the skin, sending a shiver down your spine as arousal continues to pool between your legs, panties well and truly soaked. "Use my thigh, that's a good girl," her tone a sinful murmur at your ear once more, a pathetic whimper escaping you.
"Wanda- Fuck," you moan out, hiding your face at the crook of her neck, lips attached to any bit of skin you can reach, mouth parting when she pushes her knee firmer against you for you to grind along, a string of desperate moans leaving you. You can hear her soft sighs and low moans as her body moves against yours, your hips frantically moving against her leg as you can feel the pleasure bubbling inside you, your orgasm swiftly approaching at her actions.
When a choked moan escapes you, clit brushing against her perfectly, Wanda moves her hand to your throat, guiding you away from her neck and forcing you to look into her eyes, submission evident in yours as hers radiate pure dominance. Your eyes flutter shut when another wave of pleasure washes through you, body teetering on the edge of your orgasm as her fingers remain applying a slight pressure to your throat, the older woman unable to stop thinking about how you were such a pretty mess for her.
"Please," you whine out, hands moving to her back, nails digging in through her shirt as you hold onto her as if your life depended on it, mouth crashing back to hers to try and muffle your moans as your hips start to lose their rhythm, moving uncontrollably against her.
"Please what?" she teases, knowing exactly what you want her to say.
"Wanda," you groan, fluttering your eyes open and pleading with her to just give you what you want.
"I want you to say it," she rasps out, moving one of her hands down your body to your hips, guiding you along her thigh, another moan being torn from the back of your throat.
"Please can I come?" you whimper, head lolling back against the mattress as you wait for her permission to come, wanting to be good for her. You always wanted to be her good girl.
"Come for me Detka," she whispers, mouth instantly claiming yours to muffle the guttural noise that leaves you, body crashing into a euphoric state as pleasure courses through you, hands clutching at her as your hips continue to rock against her. Wanda eagerly swallows up all the sinful sounds that leave you, her lips moving to your jaw as you struggle to kiss her back, lost for breath as your eyes flutter shut, body riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm.
Her hand moves from your hips to your hair, brushing the stray strands out of the way as your eyes slowly flutter open, her kisses travelling across your face as you smile against her into the next kiss, this once slower as you gradually recover.
"Good girl," she praises once again, smirking at the way your cheeks instantly turn red, an embarrassed noise leaving you, her slowly pushing her body up slightly, moving to straddle your waist, the sight of her on top of you, breasts in your face, swiftly causing the embarrassment to fade away, arousal consuming your body once more.
"So pretty," you mumble, kissing her collar bones as you sit up, fingers moving to the hem of her shirt, pulling on it impatiently as she smirks at your eagerness. Her fingers replace yours, hands tugging off the clothing item, leaving you to be amazed at the sheer beauty of her, the word Aphrodite floating around in your mind. Your hands move to the soft skin at the curve of her hips, still unable to comprehend how beautiful she was as your lips pepper hot, open-mouthed kisses to the top of her breasts, eyes peering up at her.
"You look so fucking hot under me, Detka," she purrs out, fingers threading through your hair and pulling your head back, your fingers inching their way up her back to the clasp of her bra, deftly unclasping it and pulling the red fabric off her. Wanda keeps her eyes on you as your gaze flickers to her exposed chest, an enamoured and lustful expression taking over your face as your hand moves to cup one of her breasts softly, mouth descending on the other.
A soft, sensual sigh escapes her at the feeling of your tongue swirling over her nipple, hand gently squeezing her other breast, warm and wet mouth having pleasure spiking through her body. You groan around her chest when her hips grind against your lap, her hands gliding across your shoulders, nails scratching down your back making you delirious with arousal.
"Fuck," she groans out sultrily, hand shooting up to the back of your head, keeping your mouth at her chest, "Do that again Detka- shit, just like that, right there," she moans, your teeth grazing her sensitive flesh before sucking on it, eyes looking up to watch her reactions.
After switching to the other breast and lavishing it in an equal amount of attention, Wanda tugs your head away from her chest, having had enough of the teasing as she needed to feel your bare skin against hers.
"Off. Now," she mutters against your lips, hands at the clothes you were wearing, her gracefully sliding off your lap to remove her own clothes, not having the patience to undress each other.
Almost immediately, her body is back on top of you, soft skin pressed deliciously against yours, your hands drifting down to her core, eager to please her. Just as your finger was about to slide through her dripping folds, her hand catches yours, fingers interlocking with yours, other hand copying the action with your other hand.
"Lay back for me," she whispers, smirk playing on her lips as she pins your hands above your head, her core resting above yours as you moan when you realise what she's about to do. "Spread your legs a little wider, Detka," she instructs, pressing her core against yours, both of you letting out a lewd noise at the warmth building in your cores.
"Wanda, you feel so good," you moan out, her body lowering, back arching her body into yours as her hips grind against yours, your hand squeezing hers. Her body rocks against yours, dragging all sorts of sinful sounds out of you as well as her, the feeling of your soaking cunt against hers driving the older woman crazy with desire, body chasing her orgasm. "Harder," you whimper out, the tone of your voice making a guttural groan leave Wanda, her lips crashing to yours to muffle the wanton noise that escaped her.
One of her hands releases yours to clutch the sheet near your head, bracing her body up as both of your hips start to stutter, the pleasure too much for the two of you to handle.
"Are you going to come for me again, Detka?" she pants out, tone teasing as she curses in Sokovian under her breath, lips lingering against your cheek as her hips press down harder against you, a whine leaving you. When all you can do in response is whimper, Wanda takes mercy on you, kissing you once more before resting her forehead against yours, "Yeah? Come with me, Moya Lyubov."
Pleasure crashed over the both of you at her words, your bodies grinding and rocking together as your orgasms wracked through you, moans spilling from your lips at the ecstasy you felt. Your fingers tightened against hers, wanting her close as she rests her bodyweight against you, catching her breath as your lips weakly meet her shoulder, exhaustion creeping up on you.
"Stay with me," Wanda whispers in a small chuckle, her fingers brushing over your cheeks as your eyes flutter open, meeting her softened green. "We need to clean up Detka, then we can sleep, I promise," she murmurs ever so softly, encouraging you to let her guide you into the bathroom to quickly clean yourselves up, her hands roaming your naked body innocently, simply giving you the touch you craved and giving into her want to touch you.
"I love you," you mumble against her shoulder as you lean against her, her arms snaking around your waist and pulling you into bed with her, neither of you bothered about pyjamas as you snuggle together. The feeling of her breasts pressing into you makes a small, drowsy smile to play on your lips, the older woman noticing the action as her fingers scratch your scalp softly, your head remaining at her shoulder as your arms wrap around her, fingers sliding up and down her back.
"I love you too," she whispers to your sleeping form as your body is lulled to sleep by her tender actions.
***
A soft chuckle woke you up, the feeling of your pillow beneath you moving gently causing your eyes to reluctantly flutter open, searching for the culprit who woke you up. You expect to see humoured green in front of you but are pleasantly surprised at the sight of Wanda's bare breasts, the annoyed expression fading into a shy smile, face nuzzling back against her chest as it was just so comfortable.
"I have to go to work soon Detka, I'm sorry but you have to move," she murmurs, placing a kiss to the top of your head as you grumble in defiance.
"Just take the day off," you mumble, earning an angelic laugh in response, her body shaking once again under you softly.
"I can't Detka," she apologetically whispers, fingers soothingly scratching your scalp naturally. "But how about this," she says, piquing your interest as you marginally pull away from her chest, looking up at her with tired eyes, "You let me go to work, dressed," her words playful earning a smile from you, "And when the twins go to Pietro's at two, you can meet me in my office," you watch how her eyes sparkle with an indecipherable emotion, your mind curious as to what she had planned. "Oh, and wear that small,black skirt of yours, it will make things a lot easier for me," her tone drops an octave at the end of her words, a small groan leaving you at her suggestive words.
Only seven hours till two...
***
Walking into the tower, you were amazed as always at the stunning architecture of the building Wanda worked in, gaze glued on the fancy interior of the elevator, watching as the floor numbers ticked by. Impatiently, you waited for it to finally reach Wanda's floor, excited and curious as to what she had planned out, her getting dressed in private this morning, something unusual. She loved to tease you in innocent ways like that, having you watch as she slowly pulled on her underwear or bra, eyes always trained on you with a teasing comment on the tip of her tongue, your mind curious as to why she didn't today.
Knocking on her door, you were soon met with a professional 'come in' from the other side of it, your hand eagerly opening the door. Your gaze landed on the figure sat behind the desk, eyes flickering away from her computer to look at you, smile widening as she slowly pushed herself off her chair, hips swaying as she sauntered over to you.
"Hey Detka," she whispers, pecking your lips before locking the door behind you, hands moving to your waist and carefully guiding you backwards towards her desk, your body eventually being pinned between her and the hard surface.
"Hi love," you murmur back in an equally affectionate tone, tilting your head up to steal another tender kiss.
Her eyes slowly take in your outfit, darkening significantly at the skirt you were wearing, gaze lingering on the teasing skin of your exposed thighs, her head snapping back up to meet your curious and excited gaze. Subconsciously, your tongue ran across your bottom lip, wetting it as you waited for her to make the first move, knowing roughly where this was going.
"Before we do anything Detka," she says, her hands resting on the desk beside your body, her taller stature towering over you, "I need to know if you're going to be quiet or if I'm going to have to gag you with something." Her words directly hit your core, cheeks flushing a deep red as her index finger rests under your chin, guiding your head back up to look at her as you momentarily avoided her gaze. "What's it going to be?"
"The gag... I think," you sigh out, hands holding onto her waist, her smirk almost predatory at your response.
"Remember your non-verbal safeword?" she mumbles into a kiss, wanting to feel your lips before she covers your mouth up, not wanting the whole office to hear you screaming her name.
"Tap your arm or thigh three times to stop," you whisper back, indulging in the messy kiss as her body presses into yours, an abrupt moan escaping you at the hard bulge you felt. "Is that..." Your words trail off as Wanda's hands lift you up onto her desk, lifting your skirt up to expose your panties, a visible wet patch already adorning the lace.
She hums in confirmation as her hand reaches over to the drawer of her desk, pulling out an old silk tie and showing it to you, watching your reaction closely as her hips slowly push up into yours, grinding the strap on hidden by her trousers against where you desperately needed her. When you nod, after another kiss of course, she ties it around your mouth and the back of your head, the fabric muffling your words as you test it's ability, the older woman satisfied with it.
"As much as I love your pretty moans Detka, I hope you understand why I'm doing this," she asks, fingers tracing the fabric around your mouth, lips briefly pressing against your temple. "I don't want my co-workers to know how much of a little slut you are for me," her words have you groaning around the tie, eyes fluttering shut as her hands glide down your body, fingers at your inner thighs, the back of them brushing your dripping core. Your reaction spurs Wanda on, her finger sliding your underwear to the side before gathering your arousal, slowly circling your clit to work you up even more.
"You love this, don't you?" she whispers at the shell of your ear, accent prominent as her thumb moves to circle your clit, letting her finger thrust into you, stretching you out and ensuring you were wet enough for the larger toy. "Being under my control, my beautiful girl to ruin," you moan around the black fabric, the noise dampened making Wanda smirk as she curls her finger inside you, warmth pooling in your core.
You muffle a plea around the gag, eyes staring into hers desperately as your hands clutch at her blouse, trying to pull her body closer. She gives in, not knowing how much time she'd have with you, and swiftly pulls the toy out of the restraining clothes, your eyes darkening as she positions it at your entrance, eyes searching yours for any hesitancy. When it's clear that there's none, she slides the toy into you slowly, revelling in the muffled sound of pleasure that escapes you, her hands going to your hips, holding you in place while your hands glide over her shoulders and settle on her back.
The slow pace quickly vanishes, her hips thrusting into you powerfully as she pounds the toy into you, the filthy sounds of your muffled moans, Wanda's sighs and the toy sliding in and out of you filling the room, adding to your arousal at how fucking hot this was. God, you had dreamed about being fucked on her desk but never thought it would happen especially like this. This was dirtier, hotter, more primal than you imagined as she fucked you like it was the last time.
Her hips were relentless as she took you on her desk in an animalistic manner, mouth at your neck, sucking a mark she knows will taint your skin, the thought of everyone knowing you were hers thrilling.
Your nails dig into her back when she angles her hips differently, the strap on hitting your sweet spot with every addictive thrust, Wanda's mouth moving to your ear, letting you hear her laboured breaths and seductive sighs. Her teeth nibble on your ear lobe, earning a groan that turns into a choked moan when one of her hands tighten their grip on your hips, the other moving to circle your clit, hips bucking as she continues to mercilessly fuck you.
"You can take it," she rasps out at your ear at a whimper that leaves you, your orgasm swiftly building at her actions, your mind completely fogged with arousal, body burning with every single one of her touches, arousal coating the toy causing it to make a filthy sound with every snap of her hips. "You're doing so well for me," she praises, biting down on your neck as her kisses descended, your nails digging in harder as your body teeters on the edge of your first orgasm, Wanda knowing the signs of your body as your legs moving to wrap around her waist, trying to pull her closer and deeper.
"Please," you muffle around the tie, her lips parting from the newly formed mark on your neck to meet your desperate gaze, her hand moving from your hips to your neck, applying a firm amount of pressure as your eyes practically roll back.
"Come all over my cock, Detka," she purrs out, knowing what your needy gaze was asking her for, a loud muffled moan reverberating around the room as your head moves to the crook of her neck, body tensing and walls clenching around the toy, pleasure crashing through you as you come on her desk, hands clutching at her for support as wave after wave of euphoria floods through you.
"We're not finished yet," she murmurs into your ear, a low groan leaving you as the toy slips out of you, Wanda moving back to help you off the desk, roughly turning you around and bending you over the desk, a guttural noise escaping you.
Your mind can't comprehend the pure desire you feel, skin on fire as she slides your panties down your legs, lifting your skirt once more and positioning herself at your entrance once again. With one thrust, she's back deep inside you, your hands reaching for the end of her desk for support, one of her hands moving to your hair, making a makeshift ponytail and pulling gently, tugging your head back.
"Fuck," she groans at the sight of you, her core throbbing at what she was doing to you, her eyes trained on how the toy slid in and out of you, her free hand lightly spanking your ass, earning a small groan. "You're mine, aren't you," she pants out, pulling your body up, her chest pressed into your back, lips at your neck, your hands bracing your body upright on the table.
You nod your head at her words, mind spinning as pleasure overrides all your senses, head lolling back against her as your eyes convey your deliriously lustful state, eyes practically black with desire.
"All mine," she murmurs, the base of the toy brushing her clit perfectly with the new position, a low curse leaving her lips and fuck you think that's the hottest thing you've ever heard. Her hand returns to your throat, indulging in both of your fantasies as she applies a little more pressure, a deep groan leaving you as your hips push back against her, your second orgasm about to flood through you.
The feeling of her spanking you once more sends you over the edge unexpectedly, body tensing in her arms as she holds you upright, pressing you further into the desk as you rock against the toy buried deep inside you, a string of muffled moans filling the room. Your orgasm is prolonged by Wanda grinding the toy into you, the base of it rubbing against her clit as she chases her own orgasm, following swiftly after you as her hips soon start to slow.
The two of you remain in that position, leaning into each other and catching your breath as you recover from your powerful orgasms, Wanda gently turning you in her arms and untying your gag, lips instantly claiming yours for a soft, loving kiss.
"You ok Dorogaya?" she whispers, eyes searching yours making your chest fill with love. You adored how she could go from being so rough and dominant to so soft and caring, always making sure you were alright.
"I don't think I can walk," you reply honestly, earning a small chuckle from her, her lips pressing against your temple as she pulls out, helping you support yourself against her desk as she quickly discards the harness and toy in her ensuite to clean and move later before returning to you.
"That good, huh?" she teases, wrapping her arms around you and helping you to the sofa at the side of her large office, sitting with you as she fixes your hair, your body leaning against her side.
"Always that good," you sigh back, unable to comprehend the sheer ecstasy the older woman makes you feel, her arms a place of security as you relax against her.
"How about, after I've checked my emails one last time, we head home and have a nice relaxing bath to recover before the boys get home?" she muses, knowing that you were going to be tired after last night and today, her fingers tracing random patterns at your side, lips meeting your hair, lingering as she waits for an answer.
"That sounds perfect on one condition," you say, turning your head to meet her curious green, her entertaining you and raising one of her brows.
"I get to choose the bath bomb this time," you mutter, her chuckling at your answer, nodding inevitably to your command, always wanting to give you everything and more.
"Of course Detka, you can choose the bath bomb," she replies with a hint of teasing to her tone, not that you minded. "I love you," she whispers before getting up, fixing her outfit and quickly going to her desk as you do the same, waiting for her to finish.
"I love you too," you murmur, her arms soon wrapping around yours, ready to take you home.
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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 1: Angst with a happy ending
,,Me too." | @tami-ryver
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 1,748
Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Hunt Gone Wrong, Werewolves, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Major Character Injury, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angelic Grace (Supernatural), AngstAngst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood, Fictober 2023
Summary: The silence is unbearable. Not even insects can be heard in the darkness, not even moon shines down on their path. The only source of light they have are the flashlights they took from the Impala. Armed with silver knives and the demon knife, they walk deep in the darkness of the forest, in search of the place where the massacre took place.
I Want You to Know That I'm Awake (I Hope That You're Asleep) | @starstiels
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 2,192
Main Tags/Warnings: depressed!dean (heavily implied), post-canon, grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, first kiss, selectively mute dean, mental health issues, panic attack
Summary: Dean Winchester wants to cry. He wants to scream and yell and sob until his lungs give out and his eyes sting like needles.
The Covert Identity (WIP) | @rowanspn
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 4,623 (22,561 updated)
Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, FBI Agent Sam Winchester, Florist Castiel (Supernatural), Crime Boss Lucifer (Supernatural), Kid Fic, Kid Jack Kline, Blood and Violence, Graphic depictions of violence
Summary: Dean Winchester loves his job; working as a secret agent has its perks. There is nothing quite like the thrill of saving people and hunting down criminals. And with his baby brother Sammy at his side, it’s a family business. However, when he and Sam are assigned to the case of Lucien Shurley, a suspected crime lord with a rap sheet a mile long, Dean’s semi-predictable life takes a turn for the unprecedented and over complicated. He and Sam must go undercover to investigate Lucien’s own family, his brothers Gabriel and Castiel, and his young son, Jack, to find out just how involved they truly are. As the stakes rise and the body count follows, it is up to Sam and Dean to solve the greatest mystery of their careers; who is Castiel Novak and what does he know?
he's gonna take my files | @autisticandroids
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 6,191
Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Saves Cas from the Empty, Afterlife, Triangulation of Desire, Memories, Trauma, Hurt Cas, Canon Divergent, Canon Remix, Warnings in Author's Note
Summary: Dean goes to the Empty, where Cas is floating through his memories.
when doves cry | @watchinghimrakeleaves
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 6,821
Main Tags/Warnings: Human Castiel, Season/Series 09, Not Canon Compliant, Winchester Coping Mechanisms, Angst with a Happy Ending
Summary: When Dean asks Cas to leave the bunker, all he can do is hope that the fallen angel is safe and doing okay. But when he reaches out to Cas to check in, he's surprised by the anger he's met with. Forced to consider whether or not he made the right call, Dean must reckon with how to fix things between him and the man he worries he may have lost forever.
Forest Fever | @amaranthhiding
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 8,586
Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 12x10, Monster of the Week, Hallucinations, Injured Castiel, Protective Dean, (Emotional) Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Praying, Angel Grace, Humor (mostly in the epilogue)
Summary: After the crushing events of episode 12x10 "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets", Castiel is low on grace and morale. In an attempt to restore at least one of these two, Sam and Dean take him on a hunt. Things start going wrong when Sam gets injured and Cas seemingly disappears. They get worse when Dean turns from hunter to prey for something feeling far more at home in this dark, rainy forest than he does.
Send Me a Postcard | @blessyourhondahurley
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 10,387
Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel is Saved from the Empty, First Kiss, References to Depression, Bisexual Dean Winchester
Summary: Shortly after his rescue from the Empty, Cas hits the road late one night without telling anyone he's leaving. Two weeks later, a postcard arrives for Dean.
whisper your name without making a noise | @deancaskiss
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 12,577
Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Muteness, Mute Dean Winchester, traumatic mutism, Mutism, Major Character Undeath, Dean Winchester to the Rescue, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel, Pining, POV Dean Winchester, Kissing, Boys Kissing, French Kissing, Rough Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Drinking to Cope, Drinking Alcohol, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Getting Together, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 15, Fix-It, Character Death Fix, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, The Empty (Supernatural), the handprint, Dean Winchester's Jacket
Summary: Losing Cas to the Empty felt like Dean was losing a piece of himself. I love you, Cas had said; and then he was gone before Dean got the chance to tell Cas how he felt. But Cas might have taken more than just Dean’s heart when the Empty ripped him away. Cas is gone, and so is Dean’s voice. Traumatic mutism: according to Sam and Eileen, Dean had been through a traumatic experience losing Cas and now he was mute. So, Eileen taught Dean sign language, and Sam bought notebooks for Dean to write out his thoughts. But Dean never stopped aching for Cas; praying to him every day and searching for a way to bring Cas home. When Dean finds a way into Empty, it’s a fight like he’s never fought before. Scream, Dean, scream, the Empty taunts. But Dean can’t stop until he’s rescued Cas, kissed his angel breathless, and told Cas the truth about how he feels—voice or no voice.
Taking one for the team | @artichokegarden
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 16,846
Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Stanford Era, Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Voyeurism, Kink Negotiation, Kink Discovery, Praise Kink, BDSM, Spanking, Whipping, Bath Sex, Hair Washing, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Abusive John Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Porn with Feelings
Summary: Cas blinked slowly. “Your father sent you to his friend’s sex club as bait for a sex monster. And you want me to find your lost memories of this for you?”
“Don’t you start, Cas. We need to find out what happened, or those women are as good as dead. If I wanted to listen to a load of crap about dad’s parenting choices, I’d have told all this to Sam in the first place, instead of biting his head off for asking. Let’s just agree he wasn’t winning father of the year for this one and let it go, okay?”
When women start going missing from sex clubs, Cas investigates Dean's memories of a Stanford-Era case and finds some secrets there that could help their relationship in the present.
this bitter nightcall | @abi-cosmos
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 32,514
Main Tags/Warnings: Djinn curse, Jealous Dean Winchester, Hallucinations, Unreliable narrator, Heavy angst, Implied Castiel/Mick Davies, Inappropriate smut, Dean doesn't know what's real, Love confessions, Post-season 12, Very brief almost major character death, Hurt/Comfort, Case fic, True love's kiss
Summary: Dean gets touched by a djinn, but it's all cool. Or, is it?
Forced to confront his desires, Dean's grip on reality slips. Leaving Castiel, Sam, and Mick Davies trying to find a way to save him before it’s too late.
If only they knew that the cure is right in front of them.
Gracefully Yours, Always | @thefandomsinhalor
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 39,815
Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, Episode: S09E10, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Temporary Blindness, Angelic Grace, Hurt Dean
Summary: As Dean hopelessly waits for Gadreel and Crowley to be expelled from Sam’s body, he and Castiel are unexpectedly ambushed by Malachi and the remainder of his soldiers, seeking retribution for what Castiel has done to his faction. Because Castiel gets gravely injured in the fight, Dean resists the urge to isolate himself, and instead returns to the bunker with his friend and Sam, determined to put an end to the fallen angel madness, and also, perhaps, try to understand why, after everything he’s done, Castiel still stands by his side.
Still Waters Run Deep | @thisisapaige
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 41,168
Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent After s15e09 The Trap, Hurt/Comfort, Mute Castiel, Mark of Cain, Aquaphobia, Claustrophobia, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Summary: In the darkest depths of the ocean, sealed into the ma'lak box with Chuck trapped behind the Mark, Castiel loses the battle against God's rage. When Sam and Dean find Castiel on a dark patch of highway— the Mark missing and his grace weak— he cannot speak.
It rains. It rains and it rains and it rains. It is a Great Flood.
In order to stop God, save the world, and resolve the issues simmering between them for years, Castiel and Dean need to communicate.
Perhaps they should build an ark instead.
When I Knew You | @friendofcarlotta
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 54,272
Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Time Travel, Bartender Dean Winchester, Editor Castiel, Mutual Pining, Minor Character Death, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Incorrect Science, Social Anxiety, Sharing a Bed
Summary: Shortly after moving into his new house, Dean Winchester finds a strange, flickering light in the middle of his living room. When he touches it, he’s transported two years into the past, to the days when a man named Castiel Novak lived in the house.
Dean’s own time pulls him back eventually, but the gateway to the past keeps appearing, and Dean keeps visiting Cas — sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours. They soon fall in love, but there is no possible future for them, for one simple reason: in a few weeks, Cas is supposed to die.
As the date of Cas’ death draws closer, will Dean be able to save his life? And if he does… will the two of them find a way to be together in the same time?
On the flip side | Joysprings (AO3)
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 64,357
Main Tags/Warnings: Lgbtq, Polyamorous characters, Blood and Injury, Time Jumps, Neurodivergence, Autistic Castiel, Emotional Abuse, Pilot Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Grief and Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Domestic Destiel, Dean and Cas are dad's, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending I Promise,
Summary: A little over a year after airforce test pilot Dean Winchester's plane crashes and goes missing, its finally found. Castiel Winchester, Dean's widowed husband reflects on his grief and his memory re visits the most significant points of their relationship throughout their time together and how they shaped the present. The whole family is left to deal with the resurfaced trauma from the initial accident, and will finally learn about what truly happened, uncovering new and unexpected answers. This is their journey.
(Story will alternate chapters from the present to past time stamps)
the weight of your bones | Chi_Yagami (Ao3)
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 66,780
Main Tags/Warnings: afterlife, soulmates (sort of), canon divergent, hunter Dean Winchester, human Castiel, kid Jack Kline, angst with a happy ending, touch-starved, flashbacks/discussions of death, panic attacks
Summary: After rescuing his brother's fiancée from a house fire he doesn't survive, Dean Winchester finds himself in Heaven. He's immediately suspicious—after all, with everything he's done during his time on Earth... there's no way he deserves to be here. He lives in a beautiful neighborhood right down the street from his parents, in an amazing house that he shares with his new soulmate, Cas—a man Dean's never even met. Despite Dean's best efforts to keep his distance, Cas seems determined to make their new relationship work in the afterlife.
However, Cas doesn't understand... he isn't aware of Dean's past. Cas doesn't know that all Dean's good for is destroying relationships and ganking monsters. Cas doesn't know that Dean once got an innocent civilian killed on a case, doesn't know of the cave that haunts Dean's dreams. People are made of memories they bury or live by, and Dean chose to bury his a long time ago.
But as Cas chips away at Dean's resistance... the once-forgotten bones begin to surface.
When Tomorow Comes | @teeparadigm67
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 78,994
Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Season 15 rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst, Lots of Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty (kind of), Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Dean Winchester is Saved, First Time, Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace, Dean Winchester in the Empty, First Kiss, The World is Saved, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester's Taste in Music, Sharing a Bed, Frottage, Men of Letters Bunker, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Happy Ending, Alternate Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15
Summary: When hunting for the Leviathan blossom, Castiel gets taken. Tired, desperate and wanting to tell him all the things left unsaid before it’s too late, Dean prays to him. But he realises... standing there, in the grey hellish landscape, the portal home flickering just beside them with seconds left on the timer, they're already were too late.
Running himself ragged fuelled solely by caffeine, whisky, and that trademark Winchester determination, he will find a way to stop Chuck and to save Cas. However, this isn't the blaze of glory Dean had always envisioned going out in. But, deep down, he would go out swinging to save a loved one. Those bright shining penetrating tear-soaked eyes are the last thing he sees before his vision is marred, the desperate plea of his name dampened by the black ooze filling his eardrums as the essence of the Empty wraps around him and pulls him pulled from existence into the dark.
All because of that simple prayer, the ending Chuck had always planned was rewritten.
The Unbroken | @casblackfeathers
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 126,551
Main Tags/Warnings: zombie apocalypse, bed sharing, hurt and comfort, angel castiel, protective dean, soft dean, endverse, bamf castiel, bottom dean
Summary: Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing.
But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done.
Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake.
There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.
Fortunate Son (WIP) | @friendofcarlotta
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 128,610
Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Vietnam War, Character Death (but no MCD), Blood and Injury, Counterculture, Recreational Drug Use, Mutual Pining, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Period-Typical Homophobia, Coming Out, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Getting Back Together, Suicidal Thoughts
Summary: The year is 1966, the place is Kansas, and Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are falling in love. But with Castiel under the thumb of his conservative parents and Dean set to ship out to Vietnam, there is no possible future for them.
As Castiel’s life turns upside down and the hell of Vietnam threatens to swallow Dean’s soul, it will take everything they have to find their way back to each other. But some things are worth waiting — and fighting — for.
#destiel trope collection#destiel trope collection 2024#angst with a happy ending#destiel#fanfic#supernatural
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Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader where he's got into crash and she's worried because she thinks he'll never got the chance to know that she's pregnant? Add something you'd like. Thanks :))
ahahah, i know i just said that i was gonna halt updates, but then i churned this out kinda quick haha :)
it is kind of short though so apologies :)
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(hint hint: this closes on Thursday 1st March 0:00 GMT, so if you want to make a request do so soon because this is in a little more than a week when publishing this :))
Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.
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fernando alonso x wife!reader
“Be safe, please, mi amor.” he held Fernando in her arms as he paused getting ready to turn around and look at her.
“I am always Carina… Podium on the cards for today haha” He smiled
“Ha, got a surprise for you after the race…if you get a podium today of course.” She looked down, smiling, thinking of the surprise she had planned.
“A nice surprise I hope carina…” He winked and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the implications of his flirty statement, and the blushes of the mechanics who had heard their conversation.
“Not that kind of surprise, but I think you’ll be happy nonetheless…” She smiled knowingly as he looked slightly puzzled before the activity seemed to pick up and was aware he needed to start getting ready.
“As long as you are feeling better than you were this morning I will always be happy.” He smiled and kissed her on the forehead.
She gave him his traditional pre race good luck kiss and then his helmet was on his head and he was in the car.
Y/N snuck into Nando’s room, being let in by his trainer Alex. She placed the box on his massage table. It was a pretty simple box, all that was inside was a sonogram, a baby onesie and the positive pregnancy test that was gonna change their lives.
She’d been feeling sick for a couple of weeks now, and when she’d missed her period she’s had a hunch as to what it could be, but it wasn’t until she had bailed on a triple header because she hadn’t been feeling well, that she’d had time to take the test, freak out about how positive it was.
(she’d called Mark in a panic, and then he’d added Jenson to the call in his panic and then they’d just had Mark, Seb and Jenson on a call freaking out, not helping her to calm down in the slightest, but making her laugh. Eventually Hanna had tried to work out what the fuck was going on with her husband, and had provided some actually useful advice)
Following Hanna’s advice, she’d gone to the doctors and gotten the ultrasound photo. She’d sent Hanna and Lance a photo of the ultrasound, to thank Hanna for her help in the boys panic call, and to let Lance know that he would be the godfather (she thought Nando would like that) but not to tell Nando, as she hadn’t told him yet, but she needed to tell someone. The doctor had confirmed that everything was going okay and that she was about 10 weeks along. Y/N had immediately spotted the onesie online and ordered it, preparing to tell Nando whenever she saw him. The onesie arrived fairly quickly, however, trying to keep the onesie, the test and the sonogram hidden from him for the week that he was home before the Spanish grand prix. She wanted him to know immediately because they’d been trying for so long and so many fails that it was a fucking miracle right now.
Their miracle. Their miracle baby.
Finally the week had arrived and she’d hidden the box with Nando’s personal trainer, who handed it to her after she’d given her good luck wishes to him and he’d sat in the car. She made sure to make it back for the start of the race, so as to not raise any suspicion. And then it was lights out and away they went.
The race had been going well for Fernando. Actually better than well. He was in P2, not even a second behind Perez. It had been helpful that Max had had his first mechanical failure in like 5 years, taking him out of the lead, and promoting everyone up a place. And now Fernando was contending for the lead. Y/N was so excited for him, she couldn’t wait to see him on the top step of the podium and then tell him the awesome news.
Of course then it all went horribly wrong.
Crofty’s voice filled her ears, “AND THAT’S FERNANDO ALONSO GOING FOR THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX GOING FOR HIS 33RD WIN GOING AROUND THE OUTSIDE OF SERGIO PEREZ AND THEY TOUCH AND THAT’S BOTH OF THEM GOING INTO THE BARRIERS AND OUT OF THE RACE WHICH PROMOTES LANDO NORRIS INTO THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX AND THAT’S A BIG CRASH. FERNANDO IS WEDGED BETWEEN PEREZ AND THE BARRIERS, AND HIS CHASSIS LOOKS CRUSHED and we are really hoping that he is okay there.”
“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”
No response.
“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”
Y/N could feel her legs getting weak, and could tell that the people around her were holding her up. She remembers being introduced to Shakira at the start of grand prix, and she complimented her nails. She could feel the nails digging into her left arm, which meant that Shakira was holding her up right now, and if Fernando's life wasn’t at threat, she might be fangirling right now. Still no response.
“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”
No response. Their miracle wasn’t going to meet their dad
“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”
fuck.
“And while i’m not entirely sure why Fernando wasn’t responding on the radio just then, but I can now tell you that he is walking out of the crash and he seems all okay.”
Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and tried standing up while letting out wet sobs. She knew she was probably on TV right now, looking a mess, being held up by Shakira and crying when her husband was all okay, but that didn’t matter.
Because Fernando was okay.
She followed his progress on the TV as the team moved the focus to Lance and potentially getting him a win. But she tracked him until he was back in the garage and back safe in her arms. Whispering his reassurances to her.
This was also being broadcast, but she didn’t care.
He was safe and he was in her arms.
Y/N followed Fernando into his driver's room, entirely forgetting about the surprise that she had left in his room until they came in and she saw the box sitting on the massage table.
Fernando turned around to her in confusion, “Did you leave this here Carina?”
“Uhh, yeah but it’s nothing, it was supposed to be a surprise for when you got your podium, so look at it later maybe…”
Within 2 strides Fernando was at the box and lifting off the lid. There goes the plan of telling him when he was in a good mood.
Fernando pulled out the onesie, black with a message of ‘daddy’s little race engineer’. Maybe Y/N’s hormones were hitting hard today because the sight of Nando holding a baby onesie was enough to bring her to tears, imagining Nando holding their baby.
“What is this carina?”
“It’s ummm, the surprise I mentioned before…I wanted you to see it when you got your podium, so you can ignore it I guess…”
“No, no, I mean, why is there a sonogram, baby onesie and pregnancy test in here? Is Lance having a baby and wanting to let me know I was the godfather?”
“No, no, mi sol, it’s ours.”
“Ours?”
“Our baby.”
Y/N watched as Fernando processed the words. And then all of a sudden she was being picked up and spun around in a hug as Fernando cried at her.
“Our baby…oh Carina…our baby! I’m so happy right now.”
He was practically yelling, so a few team members came to see what was going on. And then walked in on a happy couple, sobbing to each other as they curled up on the floor. A baby onesie in one’s hands, and the sonogram in the other.
And all of a sudden the media could wait.
---
taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @janeholt3
#f1 x reader#miloformula123fan#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso fanfic#fernando alonso x female reader#f1 x female reader#fernando alonso fic#fernando alonso#fernando alonso x you#fernando alonso x y/n
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Revenge
Summary: Scared to end up alone you hang on to your marriage of 15 years to your cheating husband, continuing to play the perfect wife. But then you meet Dave York, your husbands boss, on one of his work events and things take a very surprising turn....
Pairing: Dave York x fem. Reader
Wordcount: 5.5k
Rating: E
Warnings: infidelity, angst, forced cucking (cheating husband has to watch his wife have sex with one Dave York), smut (unprotected sex, oral f receiving), Cum play, public fingering, use of the word whore, intense eye contact, flirting like woah
A/N: I worked on this for four weeks and I'm super proud of it. Please let me know what you think. Some people might recognise the scene at the bar from the movie Shame.
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You would be lying if you said you did not imagine yourself in this situation before.
Sitting with an attractive man at a bar, flirting. Maybe even something more…
Many lonely nights in the bed you should be sharing with your husband left your mind wandering to what life could be like if you had married a man who respected and loved you.
Though you were pretty sure Calvin did love you in the beginning, maybe he even loved you now. In his… own way. It just changed somewhere between moving into your first real home together and you getting a job that paid more than his.
You just weren’t enough to… satisfy all his physical needs anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. It was an open secret that he was cheating on you, you just weren’t brave enough to leave him, even though you could. You had the job, the friends, the money. You just… did not know how to be alone.
Which was a stupid thing to think because you spent the majority of your relationship being alone.
It came to a point where you weren’t even mad or hurt anymore, whenever you found stains of lipstick on his shirts that you for some reason still washed for him.
It was… easier living this lie than separating from the man you had been with for the last fifteen years. You loved the life you had built together. You just wished you weren’t so miserable and lonely living it alone.
You hadn’t slept with Calvin since you found out about the first time he cheated on you, which was almost eight years ago. He said he was sorry, begged for your forgiveness, which you granted him. But you told him that you wouldn’t sleep with him before he would prove that you could trust him to be honest and faithful with you. That, and a clean bill of health.
He never did.
You were more like roommates at this point. And even though you did not know the exact extent of his infidelity, you still played the perfect wife for him whenever he needed you to.
You looked away when he flirted with women much younger than you when you were out. Which wasn’t often. Only when there was something from work or something your friends had invited you both.
It was one of those work events he insisted you accompany him, leaving you sitting alone as soon as you entered the place at the bar.
You were about to call it a day when a man sat down next to you.
Calvin was off somewhere while you were sitting in a darker corner at the bar, enjoying your martini as he, his boss Dave York, introduced himself to you, inviting you for another drink
There was something in his eyes when you told him your name. A glint of interest when he learned that you were the wife of Calvin Miller.
You learned that Dave was recently divorced and had moved into an overpriced penthouse that felt too empty and sterile. His wife had fallen in love with another woman and because he did not want to stay in the way of her happiness, he had let her and his two daughters move all the way to Europe while he stayed back.
Dave York was… charming, hot and had something dangerous about him that made you only more interested in him. It was the first time in a long time that you felt like someone was really interested in you and what you had to say.
You saw Calvin across the room, talking to one of the serving girls who was blushing furiously as she looked at him while he tried to charm his way into her pants.
Sighing you closed your eyes, taking a sip from your drink, breathing in deeply, finding Dave looking at you.
“You know he’s fucking himself through the whole city right?” he asked.
You nodded.
“I know he’s cheating frequently, I just.. Chose to ignore how many women exactly he fucks as long as it doesn’t happen in our home.”
Dave sucked his bottom lip in, intrigued.
“You don’t mind?”
You shrugged.
“Part of me does. Sometimes I feel like a coward for not leaving him. I know I deserve more. I deserve someone who loves me and respects me. Who asks me how my day was, who notices when I got a new hair colour, who…. Fuck I just feel so lonely sometimes.”
“So why don’t you leave him?”
“Honestly?” you whispered, sucking your bottom lip in. Dave nodded, turning in his seat to lean a little closer towards you. You smelled his aftershave, allowing yourself to take a deep breath before you answered him.
“I don’t think I know how to live on my own, and staying where I am even if it sucks is… easier? We met in highschool, got married before we got out of college. I have spent my whole adult life with him. Fuck… I never even had sex with anyone other than him,” you chuckled humorlessly.
“Do you want to?” Dave asked and you looked up.
“Do I want what?”
“Have sex with someone else?”
His hand came to rest on your knee and you shivered, your eyes on his hand. His fingers were softly squeezing just above your knee. You felt each of his fingers on you, only separated by the thin material of the silk dress you were wearing. You looked up, your lips parting.
“Dave…”
“He doesn’t deserve you, you know? If I had you in my house, in my home, in my bed?” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing over your ear and your eyes slipped close. Unintentionally you parted your legs, your dress revealing a glimpse of your inner thigh and you shuddered as he took this as an invitation, his fingers slowly running up your inner thigh.
“I’d make sure your pussy is the only one I’m fucking. I might be an asshole, but I’m a loyal asshole,” his nose brushed over your neck as he seemed to inhale your scent, his fingers slipping deeper between your legs which seemed to part even wider for him with ease.
“Did he ever go down on you?” he hummed, his fingers brushing over the soaked fabric of your lace panties. You released a shuddering breath, closing your eyes.
“I bet he hasn’t treated this pussy properly. I’d make sure you’d soak my face every single day when I had you in my bed, my kitchen counter, my desk…” his fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them to the side.
“Look at me,” he whispered and while your eyes opened he slowly pushed two of his fingers inside of you. A part of you knew that you were in a public space, yet looking into Dave’s dark eyes made you feel like you were the only two people on the planet.
He slowly moved his fingers, your body screaming in pleasure from the way his fingers seemed to know just how to touch you, while you tried to keep a straight face as he kept looking at you with dark eyes.
“I like to slip my tongue deep inside of you,” he hummed and you couldn’t help but gasp as his fingers pulled out of your pussy, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You looked down at his fingers, your eyes following them as he brought them up to his lips. You could see them glistening with your juices, while he brought them up to his mouth sucking them clean.
“Just when you’re about to cum, licking you clean before I finally give you my big cock,” he tilted his head to the side, looking at you as he licked his lips with a filthy smirk.
You jumped in your seat when an arm sneaked around your middle from behind, your eyes leaving Dave’s to find Calvin standing next to you, glaring at you before he looked at Dave.
“I see you met my wife, Dave,” he said.
“I did and It’s Mr. York to you, Miller,” Dave said bored, picking up his drink to take a sip, keeping his eyes on you.
You were still flushed, your brain trying to get back to speed.
“How come you are here with your wife and not in the bathroom getting your dick sucked by one of the college waitresses, Miller?” Dave asked.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Dave,” Calvin said, letting go of you to grab your drink, chugging it down himself. Dave looked amused at you and then at him, his face hardening.
“Come on, we’re all friends here, don’t lie in front of your wife,” he said. You risked a glance at Calvin who looked at his boss with his lips parted in shock.
Dave looked at you then, a silent challenge in his eyes.
“I love my wife,” Calvin said and you snorted. His head snapped to look at you.
“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” you rolled your eyes and Dave laughed.
“Tell you what, why don’t you go back to whatever cunt you were after and I keep your wife company,” Dave said.
“With all due respect, Dave…” Calvin began to talk but Dave shot him a dark look.
“Call me Dave one more time and see what happens, Mister Miller,” he threatened and you felt Calvin stiffen beside you. Interesting.
He took a deep breath before he looked at you.
“I was gonna head home,” Calvin said, looking at you with a question in his eyes. You turned your head to look at Dave. You didn’t want to leave. And you knew Calvin only lied about going home because he either didn’t find someone else to fuck or… because he had a weird spurge of jealousy now that someone was giving you attention and felt like he had a claim on you. Which a silly part of your brain made you feel powerful.
“I’m sure Dave can give me a ride later?” you asked, with an eyebrow raised. Dave chuckled, one of his hands coming back to rest on your knee.
“Of course I can, Sweetheart.”
When Dave drove you home a couple hours later, Calvin wasn’t home. Not that you were surprised.
Dave and you had spent the whole evening talking. And flirting. Call it needy and years of neglect, but fuck you wanted him.
You invited Dave in for a drink and he followed you into your home.
Sitting beside him in your living room you sighed.
“I feel so… Fuck I don’t know. Weak? Silly? Worthless? Like a fucking victim, even though I have everything I need to just…. Live my own life and don’t let him humiliate me like that.”
Dave sighed.
“Ending a marriage is not easy. Feelings aren’t something you can’t just turn off. You’re not worthless. You are… fucking perfect,” Dave said and you turned your head to look at him.
“I want him to feel how humiliated he makes me feel,” you said.
“What are you thinking?”
You sucked your bottom lip in, blaming the idea forming in your head on your slightly tipsy brain.
“Are you free on friday?” you asked, a plan forming in your mind. He narrowed his eyes.
“I can be.”
You nodded, sucking your bottom lip in. You took both of your glasses, setting them down on the coffee table. Dave watched your every move as you got up, coming to stand between his legs.
You didn’t know if it was the drinks you had or the way Dave York had given you his whole attention for the last hours, but you just wanted to feel something. Or someone.
“It’s our anniversary,” you said quietly as you slowly settled down into Dave’s lap, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your upper thighs immediately, his hands pushing the skirt of your dress up, as your hands rested on his shoulders. You closed your eyes, your skin heating under his intense gaze.
“I haven’t been fucked in eight years,” you whispered, moaning when you felt Dave’s hands wander over your body, squeezing your ass, pulling you closer towards him. You gasped as your clit rubbed just right over his growing bulge.
“And… And I think I want you to fuck me while he has to watch,” unintentionally you began to move your hips against him. He smirked.
“Eight years?” he asked and you nodded. He hummed.
“Can I touch you?”
“Please,” you whispered and he suddenly pulled at the belt of your wrap dress, the fabric falling open.
“Fuck me,” he uttered under his breath, the green lace lingerie you were wearing driving him wild. One of his hands came back to squeeze your ass, while his other hand palmed one of your breasts.
“Can you cum like that? Just with your needy little clit rubbing against me?” he asked and you moaned, your head nodding.
“Then make yourself cum,” he said, before he leaned in and sucked on your nipple through your bra.
“Fuck,” you cried out, rubbing yourself against him.
“That’s it, you want me to fuck you in front of your cheating husband? Then cum for me,” he snarled, slapping your ass.
“I’m gonna… Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, throwing your head back as your orgasm rolled through your body, making you shake against Dave. He helped you ride it out before you felt his hand in your neck as he pulled you towards him, crashing his lips against yours in a deep kiss.
“When should I be here on friday?“ He asked and you smiled.
Like every year, Calvin invited you for dinner for your anniversary in your favourite restaurant.
Or more like, in the restaurant he thought was your favourite restaurant.
He had given you the silent treatment since you decided to spend the evening with Dave instead of him, and you weren’t complaining.
Something had changed since that night. You changed.
He bought you a gift (a new vacuum cleaner, my god were you lucky), kissed you on the cheek and then ordered your dinner for you as soon as you sat down in the restaurant.
You were quiet all evening, letting him vent about work and about how lucky he was to have you as his wife, smiling like the obedient little wife you were for him.
Whenever he got up for a smoke, or to the bathroom or to order new drinks from the blonde bartender you reached for your phone, texting with Dave.
It had been six days since you met him and the lust you were feeling for him was almost overwhelming. Maybe it had to do with you being sexually frustrated, but the way he talked to you made you want to be his good girl, eager to please him however you wanted to.
He was very attentive, sending you gifts every single day while Calvin was in the office. You were working from home, surprised when Monday rolled around and a bouquet of red roses were delivered around lunch time.
The next day it was a bracelet.
The day after that lingerie.
Part of you was overwhelmed with the attention you were receiving, while another part just wanted to let you enjoy it.
You were rational, you knew whatever would happen with Dave York would not have a future. He wanted to fuck you, and you wanted to be fucked. Badly.
And who were you to argue about your husbands boss being the one to fuck you brains out as a little… revenge?
You rolled your eyes as you saw the waitress slip Calvin his number after he went to pay.
You had an AirBNB booked and most of your clothes and stuff already moved there yesterday. Earlier today you met with an divorce attorney.
This was happening.
You would be leaving him. Tonight.
After he watched you being fucked by his boss.
The only concern you had about the plan you set in motion was how you would make Calvin stay. But Dave had only told you that he’d make sure he would, not telling you how exactly he would achieve it. But you trusted him anyway.
You had done a lot of thinking this last week. Maybe you had just needed someone to confide in, to tell you that you were worth more than being just a silly little wife.
Healing from these last years would take a while, but you were ready to take your life back.
Starting today.
You had told Dave that you would leave the backdoor unlocked, so you weren’t surprised when you found him sitting in the armchair next to your bed in the bedroom when you made your way upstairs after coming back home.
Calvin was downstairs, picking a bottle of wine most likely in the hopes to get you drunk so he could try to get into your pants later.
He tried this every year, some weird sense of martial duty coming over him. Not that he ever succeeded.
And you had to give it to him, at least he did not spend your wedding anniversary fucking another pussy.
“Hey,” Dave hummed, getting up as he walked over to you.
“Hey,” you smiled, nerves kicking in as your head tilted down, watching your feet nervously.
“You look beautiful,” he said and you couldn’t help but sigh. You had decided on a new dress, black, with a zipper in the front that ran down the whole length. You wanted do look pretty.
For Dave.
You felt his fingers tilt your chin up, his eyes finding yours.
“Are you still sure about this?” he asked. You took a deep breath before you nodded slowly.
“Just… Just nervous. It’s been a while…. And…. I don’t know about him… here”
“We can get out of here. Just say the word and I’ll leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” you brought a hand up, resting it on his chest. He covered your hand with his.
“I want you to….” you pursed your lips, unable to say those words.
“You want me to fuck you?” he whispered with a small grin. You nodded.
“I want to fuck you too. Been thinking about your pussy since last week. Tasted so fucking good. You just need to decide if you want me to fuck you here, with your soon to be ex husband watching, or if I should take you to my place and make this pussy, my pussy, weep for me,” you felt his breath on your face as he whispered those words, your knees getting weak.
“How… How about… both?” you finally asked with a shy little smile.
He kissed you then, his lips pressing against yours for a quick but powerful moment. You whimpered.
“Greedy,” he hummed with a smirk.
“Where is he?” Dave asked as he slowly led you to your bed.
“Getting wine to make me drunk enough to fuck him,” you snorted and Dave rolled his eyes.
You yelped when he pushed you against the mattress, hovering over you immediately, his eyes darkening. You parted your legs and he settled between them. Your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his weight on top of you.
“Pathetic little fucker,” Dave hissed before he kissed you again.
You melted against him.
His tongue invaded your mouth, playing with yours, one of his hands running up your thigh.
“Dave,” you gasped, clutching the sheets as he kissed down your jaw.
“You smell so fucking good,” he hummed, softly sucking on your neck. his fingers playing with the front zipper of your dress, pulling it slowly until the pink lace he had gifted to you was revealed beneath.
“What the fuck is going on in here?” you heard a yell, following from a bottle shattering on the floor. Dave did not stop pulling at the zipper, his eyes on yours, until your bra was fully visible, the delicate lace hiding next to nothing.
“I’m about to eat your wife’s pussy,” Dave said and you could not help but moan as he lowered his head, his lips kissing the soft skin above your tits.
“You can’t… What the fuck…” Calvin cursed and you caught his eyes when he rounded the bed, now standing so he could look at you.
“Sucks to be on the other side, huh?” you asked him, hearing Dave chuckle, before he pulled at the lace, his lips closing around your left nipple, making you arch your back against his chest.
“You’re… you’re my wife,” Calvin argued and you moaned as Dave sucked.
“Happy fucking anniversary,” you moaned, your hands unclenching from the sheets to bring them into Dave’s hair, pushing him against your tits.
“I’m… I’m not gonna watch this,” Calvin said in disbelief, intending to turn around and leave.
“You sit right there on that chair and watch me fuck your wife, Miller,” Dave hissed, voice dangerously low, turning his head to look at Calvin who stopped in his tracks.
You pussy clenched at his tone.
“Or what?” Calvin asked, not looking back. Dave found your eyes, kissing you quickly before he got up from the bed, walking over to Calvin.
He leaned into him, whispering something against his ear. You saw Calvin clench his fists as he took a deep breath before he slowly turned around and walked over to the chair Dave had apparently put there just for him.
Calvin’s eyes found yours and he clenched his jaw as he sat down.
“Now, where were we?” Dave asked and you turned your head to look at him. Slowly he unbuttoned his dress shirt, pushing it off his shoulder, revealing his broad chest. Your eyes lingered all over his body, the prominent outline of his cock confided in his pants making your mouth water.
Funny that just a week ago you had not missed sex at all, when now you could not wait for the man in front of you to ruin you.
You sucked your bottom lip in as you looked up at him.
“Calvin, what was I about to do before you interrupted us?” he asked, his eyes not leaving your body.
There was no answer, until a dark look came over Dave’s face, breaking eye contact to you only briefly to look at you husband.
“You wanted to… eat my wife’s pussy,” he said quietly and Dave’s eyes lit up as he looked at you.
“That’s right,” he said, before his hands wrapped around your ankles, pulling you down towards the end of bed. He leaned down, his hand pulling at the front zipper of your dress, parting the fabric. His lips following the zipper with every inch of your skin it revealed to him.
“Like unwrapping a gift,” he said, kissing your stomach. He helped you get out of the dress, throwing it aside, before he got down on his knees, pulling each of your legs over his shoulders.
Dark eyes found yours as he leaned closer towards your pussy, taking a deep breath.
“When was the last time someone ate this pussy?” he asked, his fingertips coming to gently trace the pattern of the by now see through lace hiding your cunt from him. You were obscenely wet for the man kneeling between your legs.
“Years,” you sighed.
“Shame,” Dave tsked, kissing your inner thigh. You closed your eyes as his lips wandered up your thigh, almost to where you wanted him most when he kissed back down, starting the same pattern on your other thigh.
“Dave,” you moaned.
“Yes, sweetheart?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in a silent challenge as he looked up at you.
“Make me cum,” you said and he grinned.
“With pleasure.”
The moment Dave’s tongue slipped through your folds felt like the world shifted. He did not tease you, his tongue dipping inside of you while his nose moved over your clit had you moaning out wantonly. You fought the urge to throw your head back and close your eyes, keeping your eyes trained on the man who had you on the edge of an orgasm without even really having started.
The moan coming from his mouth as he tasted you for the first time was downright pornographic and a memory you’d replay often in the future.
He moved his tongue between your folds before he went higher, his tongue flicking over your throbbing clit.
“Fuck,” you moaned out, your hands hesitantly reaching for him, one of his hands grabbing your wrists, pulling them closer towards him, your fingers disappearing in his soft hair. You scratched your fingernails over his scalp and he sucked your clit between his lips with a groan.
You were sure you were dripping on the sheets, your legs crossed behind his shoulders as you moved your hips against his mouth.
“I’m close….” you whimpered, your lips parted as you panted for air, your eyes closing for a moment before they snapped open when Dave slapped your thigh.
“Look at me when I make you cum,” he grunted.
With your eyes trained on him, your hand in his hair and his mouth on you it wasn’t long before he made you cum, your thighs shaking around his head as he continued to lick you up, giving you by far the best orgasm of your life while you moaned out his name.
He gave your pussy one last kiss, before he got to his feet.
“Ready for my cock?” he asked.
Slowly you sat yourself up, getting on your knees on the bed in front of him, pulling him down towards you, so you could kiss him. Your hands found his belt, unbuckling it.
“How do you want me?” you mumbled against his lips, eager to have him inside of you. You felt his lips twitch into a smile against yours, his hands unclasping your bra behind you, pulling it off your shoulders.
One of your hands finally slipped into his pants, pulling his cock out.
You tried to play off your surprise, but Dave saw your eyes widening. He pecked your lips.
“Don’t worry sweetheart, we gonna make it fit,” he winked.
You risked a glance down to his hard cock. He was not much bigger than your husbands, but much thicker. Precum pooled on the angry red tip, and you bent down before you could stop yourself, your tongue licking it off, moaning as you tasted him.
“Fuck,” Dave moaned and you looked up at him, seeing his eyes fixed on you.
You had his whole attention and you were loving it.
“Some other time sweetheart,” he said warmly, one of his hands cupping your cheek.
“Now I want you on your back so I can watch those perfect tits shake when I fuck my pussy,” he said. You shivered before you slipped back towards the center of the bed. Dave took his pants, boxers and socks off before he joined you on the bed. You parted your legs for him as he came to kneel between them, his hand lazily pumping his cock.
You had discussed protection in the week leading up to today, coming to know that Dave had a vasectomy years ago. With him getting tested regularly and you not having had sex with anyone in a long time you had given him the freedom to decide if he wanted to use condoms or not.
A big part of you was happy he didn’t because you wanted to feel him. All of him.
He nudged his tip against your folds, moving it over your clit repeatedly. He reached for a pillow, your husband's pillow, propping it under your hips.
“You’re dripping for me sweetheart,” he grinned. You sighed, your hands coming to play with your nipples.
Slowly his tip slipped inside of you and you stopped breathing for a second, enjoying the delicious stretch of his length parting your folds.
“Shit Baby…” you moaned, sucking your bottom lip in.
Ever so slowly, giving you time to adjust his cock filled you.
“You’re so fucking wet. Perfect just… fuck just perfect,” he praised you, groaning when his hips met yours, his cock completely inside of you.
You felt so fucking full.
“Move,” you whined.
“You’re such a whore,” you heard another voice, your eyes blinking as you registered your husband's voice, having completely forgotten about him.
You found Dave’s eyes on you before you turned your head to find Calvin obediently sitting in the chair Dave had pulled for him.
You took a deep breath before you turned your head to look at Dave again.
“At least I’m your whore then,” you said to Dave and he grinned before he bottomed out and thrusted back into you. You cried out.
He snapped his hips against yours, his hands grabbing your hips as he pumped into you. You threw your arms back, grabbing the headboard.
Sex had never felt like this. Yes, you did not have much to compare it to, but fuck that was what you missed? He ruined you, slowly, with every thrust inside of you, with every brush of his fingers on your body. He watched mesmerized as your tits shook with every thrust, before his arms pulled you up against him, into his lap, your chest against his. You crossed your arms behind him, your hands on his neck as he fucked up into you. His hands helping you move on top of him.
“Whose pussy is this from now on?” he asked, his voice dark.
“Yours Dave, fucking yours,” you moaned.
“Fuck yes,” he grunted, slapping your ass. Your pussy clenched around him and you watched him cock his eyebrow.
“You like that huh?” he smirked, doing it again and you moaned.
“Maybe you are my little whore after all,” he hummed against your ear, thrusting into you. He continued to slap your ass until you exploded around him, crying out as he fucked your through your orgasm.
It wasn’t long before he twitched inside of you, warmth filling you as he moaned against your lips.
Both panting against each other's lips you smiled, letting your hand fall against his, before he leaned down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, making you clench around his cock.
“That… That never happened before…” you said and he frowned, looking up at you.
“I never came when he fucked me,” you clarified and Dave’s jaw twitched before he kissed your lips.
“I should kill that fucker for how he treated you,” he mumbled against your lips and for reasons you had to unpack at another time, the thought made you clench around him.
“Interesting,” he mumbled, giving you a wink.
“You came inside of her? What the fuck?” you rolled your eyes back as you heard Calvin exclaim.
“And he made me cum. Twice. Guess it was not my fault you couldn’t after all,” you said without looking at him.
Dave chuckled, before he helped you off, his cum dripping into the sheets. He slipped his fingers between your legs, pushing his cum back into you, before he brought his fingers up, holding them out for you. You sucked them clean for him, moaning at your combined taste.
But as much as you wanted just to lay back and enjoy the afterglow, you did not want to spend any more time than necessary in this house.
Dave helped you out of bed, helping you into your dress before he got back into his clothes, pocketing your ruined panties and bra.
He gave you a small smile, taking your hand.
You walked towards the bedroom door when you stopped and turned around.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Calvin screamed behind you and Dave turned around faster than you could notice, his hand stopping Calvin’s wrist before he could reach you. He yelped in pain and Dave let go, stepping between you and your soon to be ex husband.
You took a deep breath, putting a hand on Dave’s shoulder who looked at you over his shoulder. You gave him a small nod, before you stepped to the side, still close enough, so he could intervene. Calvin was still looking at Dave with what you think was terror in his eyes.
“Did you think I would stay by your side while you fucked your way through the country forever? Humiliate me like that? I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you, but you threw that away. And he helped me to see that. It’s embarrassing how long it took me. So we’re getting divorced, Calvin. You can keep the house and I keep my dignity. And my money,” you said.
Calvin looked at you now, his eyes filling with tears.
“Don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice small.
You took a deep breath, looking at the man you once loved so much. Feeling nothing.
“Not anymore,” you said, giving him a small sad smile before you took Dave’s hand.
Dave gave Calvin one last look before he grabbed your purse and led you out of the house.
#my fic#Dave york#dave york x female reader#Pedro pascal#fanficion#fanfic#fan fiction#dave york fanfiction#Dave york x fem. reader
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Buddie Week 2024
Buddie Week 2024 is a week-long event to celebrate our two favorite firefighters. WIth the use of forms, the fandom could choose several things like the prompts and when the week takes place. All forms are now closed and everything is official!
April 8th - April 14th is Buddie Week!
Each day has two normal prompts and a quote prompt. To join, you only have to choose one of these (of course you can do more!). If there isn't a prompt you like, you can choose one of the alternate prompts to write for instead.
And here are the prompts (nominated and then voted by you). The order of prompts is from the most voted for to less voted for.
Monday April 8th: Borrowing/stealing/sharing Clothes - Secretly Married - "I'm right here, I always have been."
Tuesday April 9th: Protective Eddie - Co-Parenting - "I can tell you're not fine"
Wednesday April 10th: Clipboard Buck - Tattoos - "Is that my shirt?"
Thursday, April 11th:- Eddie calling Buck 'Evan' - falling asleep on each other - "Because I fucking love you!"
Friday April 12th:- didn't know they were dating - demisexual Eddie - "I swear it wasn't my fault this time."
Saturday April 13th: hugging from behind - Buck speaks Spanish - "I'm not letting you go."
Sunday April 14th: first kiss - hurt/comfort - "Please don't leave."
Alternate prompts:
stuck together
special rescue/heavy rescue Buck
amnesia
"I'm sorry, you want us to do what?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
"This made me think of you."
More information about the collection on AO3 will be posted later! But for now, you can start making things for this event! You can write a fic, make art, create a playlist, or do anything that you want with these prompts. You don't even need to post it on ao3 if you want it to. You can post anywhere.
During the week and the period after, I will try to reblog everything on Tumblr that has this account tagged in the post, or 'Buddie Week 2024' in the tags. You don't HAVE to tag me. I understand if that makes you uncomfortable - I was the same with my first Whumptober year and didn't tag the official Whumptober account or tags.
Everyone can participate! Maybe you can post fic recs with these themes. Post little snippets or drabbles. Do whatever you want. Maybe you've got your own idea how to participate.
The ONLY rule is that the use of AI is not allowed. And, of course be nice to each other! If something isn't your thing, exit the page, don't be mean.
I'm excited to see what you all come up with! I will be writing fics as well for this event. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to send a message or an ask!
To stay updated, you can follow this blog (@911buddieweek )
(Sharing/boosting on tumblr and other sites is appreciated. I do not have (or want) a Twitter account so I don't know if they're even aware of this)
#buddie#buddie week 2024#911#911 buddie#911 on abc#eddie diaz#evan buck buckely#evan buckley#911 abc#911 edit#911 on fox#911 on ao3#911 art#911 ao3#911 au#911 fic#buddie ao3#buddie fic#buddie fandom#buddie fanart#buddie fanfic#oliver stark#ryan guzman
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dancing with our hands tied (part i)
jamie tartt x female reader // nsfw 18+ // enemies to lovers // fwb
masterlist // read on ao3
summary: wearing the jersey of your self-proclaimed enemy wasn't supposed to go like this.
word count: 2.8k
decided to post this fic to tumblr! not sure if i will be doing a taglist, but i will be tagging each part with jamie tartt x reader + jamie tartt smut so if you are following those tags religiously (like me) then you can find it lol. its also on ao3 and will likely get updated there first if you'd like to subscribe that way.
big shoutout to @whimsical-roasting for drafting this in our dms in a haze one night LMAO i would not have been able to write this without her<3333
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“No no no, there is no way I’m wearing that.”
Opposite of you, your best friend, Laney, stood with two Richmond jerseys in her hands. One said ‘Tartt’ across the back, the other, ‘McAdoo,’ but you already knew which one she wanted to wear. She had a raging crush on Isaac, so that left only one option for you.
And there was no way you were wearing Jamie Tartt’s fucking jersey.
You would never hear the end of it. As part of the team’s physio team, you had a good rapport with most of the players. You complimented them when they had a good match and joked around while working with them through their physical therapy treatments.
You had a decent working relationship with everyone on the team.
Everyone except for Jamie Tartt.
There was no question that since his return to Richmond, he had become a changed man, but his past words had left a lingering resentment. You didn’t think you were in the wrong to simply avoid interacting with the man. He hadn’t often been seen in the treatment room, and when he had, you typically passed off his treatment to another member of the team, along with some flimsy excuse for why you couldn’t do it.
But recently, as he trained more with Coach Kent outside of the dog track, he’d needed additional treatment. And as the new lead of the physio team, you were in charge of his treatment plan.
In recent months, especially since working more closely with him, he’d started to notice the difference in behavior from you, leading to all sorts of jests and confrontations. Now, it seemed like he just got a kick out of teasing and inevitably pissing you off. You couldn’t help but fire some scathing shots back. What started out as a simple plan of avoidance had clearly backfired.
Now everytime he needed assistance with muscle cramps or pain medication, you got a conversation full of sarcasm and questions. It almost felt like sometimes he came in just to rile you up.
Just last week, Jamie came in to check on his ankle after a bad landing at training. You examined his leg and he made comments the entire time you had your hands on him.
“You know, I get waxed. Weekly. Everywhere.”
You had stumbled ever so slightly as you’d gone to grab an ice pack. You cringed inwardly, knowing this would only add more fuel to Jamie’s fire. You were tired of him getting the best of you, making you flustered. You wanted to fight back.
Turning back to him with the ice pack, you stared at him directly.
“Show me,” you challenged.
Jamie’s face held an incredulous expression.
“You mentioned it— you clearly want to,” you reasoned, shrugging your shoulders, “So show me.”
You hoped your confidence in calling his bluff worked in your favor, and his face showed that he was clearly surprised by this turn of events. You couldn’t tell what he would do next. He rolled his eyes with that smug smirk on his face before he raised his eyebrows and lifted his shirt up.
Sure enough, his chest was bare, showing off his sculpted muscles.
Jamie leisurely lounged across the treatment table, chest exposed, and you would be lying if you said your mouth didn’t water a little bit at the sight. Even after being around athletes on a daily basis, there was something about Jamie that just— hit different. His cockiness was surely annoying, but it was also incredibly arousing, as much as you hated to admit it. You felt a squeeze in your chest but you bit your tongue to keep yourself in line. There was no way that thought would ever bear fruit.
You shoved the ice pack into his lap, making sure some of it landed on the bare skin of his stomach, watching as he flinched a little bit at the abrupt action and cold temperature of the pack.
“Ice your ankle for twenty minutes, then stay off it the rest of the day,” you informed him, acting like the last few moments hadn’t happened. “You’ll be good to train tomorrow.”
Jamie scoffed at your indifference. He grasped the ice pack fully and let his shirt slide back down.
“Sure, love, I’ll do that.”
He knew you hated it when he called you by a pet name. That only made him use them more. You glanced back at him, staring into his eyes for a moment before you grabbed your bag.
The tension in the room was palpable before you’d headed out to check on the rest of the players at training. You hadn’t said anything else as you’d left.
So, yeah. There was no way Jamie Tartt would ever let you hear the end of it if you showed up in his jersey number.
“Oh, come on!” Laney pleaded. “I don’t want to wear a jersey alone.”
“Plenty of people do!”
“Yeah, but plenty of people don’t get to go behind the scenes and actually speak to the players,” she gushed. “I don’t want to meet them and look stupid all alone.”
“So instead, you want me to look stupid with you,” you gave her a flat look.
She smiled mischievously. “What? I thought it would be funny. You complain about him all the time.”
If only she fully comprehended the validity behind your complaints.
You knew there was no way you were ever going to win this fight, so you slipped on the jersey and braced for impact. You were happy to have Laney come along to a game, especially since you didn’t always attend matches and her being a big Richmond fan gave you an excuse to watch. You wanted today to be good, not just for you, but for her too. It was exciting to be able to take your best friend on a little ‘backstage’ tour during gameday.
You hoped today would be good, and that you wouldn’t have any run-ins with the man who made your blood boil.
Alas, not even twenty minutes later, as you walked into the back of the Nelson Road stadium through the employee entrance, you promptly ran into none other than Jamie Tartt.
“Well well well, I didn’t realize someone was such a big fan,” the familiar Mancunian accent taunted behind you.
You tried not to visibly cringe as you turned around to face Jamie. He was not yet in his kit, still wearing his street clothes: a monochrome denim set. It was frankly unfair how well the jeans fit him, but you refused to let your gaze linger for more than a few seconds.
“Oh my, it's the infamous Jamie Tartt,” Laney greeted him playfully. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Your jaw clenched at her words as she reached out to shake his hand. He eagerly accepted.
“Have you?” he asked with a mischievous look in your direction that made you roll your eyes.
Laney nodded emphatically. “She talks about you all the time.”
You nudged her shoulder to get her to stop talking but she just looked at you innocently. She knew exactly what she was doing, and it seemed like Jamie did too.
“Oh, does she?” Jamie questioned.
He was eating this up. His face was smug and you were sure this would haunt you for weeks to come.
“Laney, why don’t you go get some snacks? Shouldn’t be a line since we are here a bit early. I’ve got to talk to Jamie before the match,” you said. “I’ll meet you at our seats?”
You smiled sweetly at her, but underneath the nice layer, you knew your eyes held an anger that had her quickly waving goodbye and scurrying off. You were more than happy to have her accompany you to a match, but this entire interaction was reminding you of why you hadn’t invited her sooner.
For a moment, you just stared at him. It was hard to look him directly in the eye sometimes. Despite the headstrong front you kept up, you weren’t used to dealing with such interactions. You weren't stupid, you knew that this dance you two engaged in fell close to flirting (at least that’s what Laney said), and when you looked directly at him, you remembered just how fucking hot he was.
It wasn't just his physical attributes. Sure, he was in excellent physical shape, and his hair looked particularly perfect ever since he started going a bit blond, and his lips were always in a little pout, just begging to be kissed. But it was also a little more than that. Seeing him step up to lead as they began Total Football, working as a team player while also getting in extra workouts to be the best he could be. You weren't blind. You could see his internal changes on the outside, somehow. He didn't seem as cold. He didn't seem as distant and prickish. Jamie’s change in demeanor changed how everyone saw him including himself.
And he seemed to look even hotter than he used to.
Was it possible for someone to just keep getting more and more attractive?
It was part of the reason he drove you up the wall. How did he so perfectly remain just a little bit of a prick while also being a better person? And why did he have to look so pretty while doing it?
More and more people were making their way through the hallway as the dog track got ready for the match, and Jamie still stood in the middle, with an innocent, questioning look directed towards you.
You huffed before you grabbed his arm and shoved him into the treatment room. Even if he was acting oblivious to spectators, you didn’t want to put on a show when you once again ripped him a new one.
His face was still prickish as you turned to look at him. He was clearly enjoying this much more than you were.
“So you talk about me when I ain’t around, love?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.
“No, I don’t,” you said firmly. “And don’t call me ‘love.’”
He pursed his lips, “Seems like you do… love.”
He smiled cheekily at you and it took everything in you not to roll your eyes at him. Instead, you crossed your arms and put on what you hoped was your most serious face.
“I talk about everybody,” you defended, but he clearly wasn’t listening.
“Hmmm, and what do you say about me?” Jamie scratched his chin to mock being in deep concentration.
“Mostly, I tell people you’re a pain in my ass.”
The statement seemed to shock Jamie out of his act and he narrowed his eyes at you. You knew it wasn’t the best idea to have a sparring match with a footballer right before a game. They were pent up with nerves and adrenaline as they prepared.
After a moment of no response, you expected the conversation to be over and began to move toward the door, when he finally spoke up.
“Bend over, I’ll show you a pain in the ass.”
Now you’re the one who’s speechless. You let out a breathless laugh of shock, before rolling your eyes. You continued on your way to the door, moving to leave him in the room alone. Just as you go past him, he playfully smacks your ass. Before you have a chance to even choose your reaction, you let out what can only be described as a whimper mixed with a moan.
You whirl around to look at him, and you both seem to be shocked by the noise. You can tell your face is burning with embarrassment as you stare at each other in a momentary state of shock.
He recovers first, letting out a breath of a laugh. A smirk dances across his face.
“Liked that, did you?” he taunted.
You clearly didn’t recover as quickly, your reply coming out weaker than you’d like. “Shut up, Tartt.”
He stepped a little closer to you, and you stepped back instinctively, before you ran into the table set up next to the door.
“I liked hearin’ it,” he said, his voice coming out like a rough whisper.
It all happened so fast. One moment you were barely processing how close the two of you were. Making direct eye contact, breathing the same air. In the next moment, you had spun around, shoving your own pants down around your knees as you heard him unzipping his jeans. He gripped your waist as he spanked you again, and you didn’t even try to suppress the moan that left your lips.
He slid his dick in easily, and you were surprised at how wet you’d become from simply arguing with the man. He held you against his chest as he thrust into you, pressing a messy kiss to your neck, sucking slightly. Part of you was worried about him leaving a mark, but the thought was pushed to the back of your mind as he continued his journey along your neck. He raised your knee higher to rest against the table for a better position, and you groaned in unison as he thrust deeper inside you. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, leaning against him.
“You wanted this real bad, huh, angel?” he asked.
You nearly wept at the pet name. You made a noise of protest, but your voice came out near breathless from the intensity of it all. You felt like your knees would buckle from the sensation, so you gripped the table in an attempt to not fall.
“Fuck you— you wanted it more,” you defended, but just as you spoke, he hit deep inside you and left the end of your sentence turning to mush as you moaned.
The table wasn’t enough to grab onto, so you reached back and started to grip the strands of his hair. He groaned directly into your ear, and you felt your knees nearly give out entirely.
“Damn, you look so pretty with my name on your back and my dick inside you,” he mumbled as he ran his hand up to grip at your throat. The action wasn’t gentle, but the pressure was perfect.
You’d almost forgotten you were wearing his name across the back of your jersey. Of course he would think it was hot.
It surprised you when you realized you found it kind of hot too.
“Don’t get used to it,” you warned, “This isn’t happening again.”
Your harsh words felt like they had no meaning as you bucked against him. His own hips rose up to meet your own. Truth be told, you were getting your shit rocked and were already wondering when you could fuck him again. You felt your brain short circuiting. Your breaths were shallow as he moved his hand up to your mouth.
You bit his hand out of frustration, making him hiss and thrust his hips faster. He shoved his fingers into your mouth and you sucked instinctively, causing him to whine.
“Jamie,” you gasped around his fingers, “I-I’m close.”
“Me too, love,” he panted in reply. You didn’t have it in you to correct him over the pet name, overcome with the sensations coursing through your body.
He removed his fingers from your mouth and snaked his hand down your body to find your clit, adding extra pressure. He knows just the right way to move his fingers that has you falling apart in mere moments.
When you come, he turns your head to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on your lips as you both find your release. You find yourself kissing him back intensely, chasing his lips once he finally pulls away.
Your knees are weak at this point, fully leaning against him for support once he finally slips out of you and pulls his jeans back up. Before he has a chance to say anything between breaths, you reach for a towel off the shelves above you and clean yourself off.
You’re still out of breath as you finally look over at him. His face is shiny with sweat and you fear you look the same. You’ll have to stop by the restroom before you meet back up with Laney.
Laney.
The thought of your friend has you glancing at the clock on the wall, cursing yourself. Everything starts to come into clear view, and you wonder how you let things go this far. You just fucked Jamie Tartt. How the hell did that just happen?
You press your lips in a firm line. You try to keep your hands from visibly shaking.
“This is never happening again,” you tell him again, as you reach for the door handle to exit.
As you open the door, Jamie scoffs.
“Sure, love,” he says, sauntering through the door that you opened, “I’ll see you after the match.”
He leaves you with a wink before heading off to get ready for the match. If you thought he would be unbearable about the jersey, you had just made the entire situation so much worse.
You weren’t sure how long you stood in the treatment room before you finally left as well.
#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt x y/n#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt smut#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt enemies to lovers#ted lasso fic#ted lasso fanfiction#ted lasso imagine#my works#dwoht fic
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they stare at me (and i stare at you) {Felix Catton/Reader}
one. i saw you kept your gaze controlled
Summary: It's Orientation Week at Oxford and Felix is excited to experience everything university life has to offer him. Mostly socially. Almost all of his peers, thankfully, seem to be on the same wavelength as him, except you. Fine, if you wanted to take yourself too seriously, you could do it far away from him, he thinks. At least, that's what he thinks at first.
Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. Reader is the Acting CEO of their family's International Media and Telecommunications Empire. There will be smut in future chapters (see masterpost for more details/warnings). You & Felix are both 19.
This is technically an AU of my long running fic head, heart, hand. but can be read 100% on its own. No prior information from that fic is necessary going into this at all.
{ masterpost }
A/N: 1787 words. Hi! Excited to finally be publishing the first part of this!! Updates will be slow, but I've already got about 20k written from all around the timeline so I just need to piece everything together. This takes place in Felix's first year of Uni so this fic won't feature Oliver. If you like it, or have thoughts about it, I'd love to hear from you!
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
----
There's a novel charm, Felix considers, about moving into the Oxford dormitories, even if the hallowed halls echo his own home more than most other students.
During orientation, he makes friends easily, all warm smiles and sincere laughter; people have always flocked to Felix. Part of it is his natural charm, but he's never been above exploiting his looks while putting his best foot forward in situations like these. His outfits are always on trend and on brand, and he spends longer in the mirror than he'd ever admit to another living soul.
It was a breeze to make friends of his peers, the people in his course - business, at his parents suggestion - the people in his dorm, anyone he really came across who felt like giving him the time of day. Everything always seemed to reinforce what he already knew; Felix Catton was a born people-person, there was nothing that could shake his confidence in that fact. Well there wasn't anything, until he met you.
In all honesty, Felix's first impression of you was that you were strangely familiar, but ultimately rather dull.
During that orientation week, he'd gotten himself to all of the introductory workshops to his course that the University had set up for students to meet their classmates and get an overview of their degrees. At every single one, you were there, hanging back, rather quiet, seeming preferring to observe the rest of your peers unless your input was specifically called for. Again, your name rang a bell to him, but you were a non-event otherwise as he focused on getting to know the people who seemed far more eager to engage. At best, you were simply a standoffish prick at the back of the room who always felt the need to wear fucking business casual to decidedly casual casual workshops.
Once, he overhears a guy he thinks is named Benji asking if he'd seen you at the club that night. Though your smile is barely a smile, more a suggestion of amusement rather than anything else, your tone is sharp and bright.
"Of course I'll be there."
"Looking forward to it," Benji grins, before heading off in the opposite direction. Felix realises he's been caught eavesdropping when your gaze meets his. He's not quite sure how to react, not to the conversation he'd overheard, nor to the curious look you're now giving him. Instead of calling him out, or even saying anything at all, you nod to him once, and take off in the direction of the dining hall.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Felix finds himself at the club that had been catering to the first years every night this week so far. He drinks, he has a good time, and he ends up going home with a pretty girl studying Chemistry, but he didn't recognise anyone there to be you.
More and more he starts seeing you around campus, or maybe it just feels like that now that you've caught his attention. Did you always have people around you or did he not notice you amongst some of the people he'd started to befriend. Our maybe he hasn't reconsidered you because he'd never seen you properly smile like that before. Everywhere Felix saw you, you were amongst friends, sometimes even one or two of his. It was never opportune moments, however, he always seemed to be on his way to or from something. He felt like he never got the opportunity to properly meet you.
Until it's eleven o'clock on a Friday night, and he hears your voice coming from around the side of one of the dorms as he was on his way to celebrate the last day of orientation week with the rest of the first years.
"- yeah, no, I know it was Decker," you sounded annoyed, and when Felix investigates, he sees you leaning against the wall by the entrance to a dorm building, phone to your ear, smoking a cigarette. Except if he hadn't just heard your voice, he'd barely be able to tell it was you; why the hell would you choose to live your life in business casual when you could look this damn good? "Because Decker's been a pain in my ass ever since -" whoever was on the other end of your call cut you off and you sighed deeply, pinching your brow out of frustration, "yeah, I just need this pulled before it can get to print for Monday," you sighed. Stubbing your cigarette out on the wall, you ducked down to pick up a dark bottle that had been hidden in the bushes by your feet.
Felix doesn't know exactly why he keeps watching, but he's fascinated. He can't look away.
"I emailed you a bunch of ads for charities we could run in its place, pick one, stick it in, it's on me, it's my good deed for the day- no, tonight!" You insisted, scowling, before you took a sip of your drink, rebuffing whoever is protesting on the other end of the line, "I'd rather the page be fucking blank- because we're not printing a homophobic hit piece on Portia De Rossi a week after she comes out!" You argued, before you sighed deeply, adding, "or ever, fucking obviously." Then, frustrated, "of course Decker fucking okayed it, you saw the shit he wrote about Rosie O'Donnell back before I -" but again, you were cut off, "I told him to cut that shit out the moment-" you took another drink, furious, "no, first thing Monday I'm having words with him." There's a terse goodbye, and your phone clicks shut, and Felix suddenly feels like he's snapping out of a trance.
"Can I help you with something?" You snapped suddenly, seemingly to no-one. Felix feels his heart rate pick up nervously. It only spikes hire when your head turns to look at him. Your gaze is ice fucking cold. You take another drink.
"Is everything okay?" Felix hears himself asking. Your lips twisted into a humourless smile, and you reached into your pocket to pull out a pocketbook of cigarettes.
"Peachy," you say bitterly, "do you have a light? I usually wouldn't ask but these pants are stupidly tight and it's going to be a hassle to get my own."
"Downside to looking that good I guess," Felix steps forward, rummaging around in his jacket pocket to find his lighter. What he's said doesn't hit him until you're leaning in to light your cigarette from his offered fire, but it seems you hadn't quite heard him, to preoccupied with your thoughts, "are you on your way out tonight?" Felix tries again, and you take a long draft, thanking him quietly as your expression scrunched up with a thoughtful kind of irritation.
"Is getting absolutely pissed tonight the smartest move? Absolutely not," you huffed, jaw set in a firm line, "am I going to do it anyways? You fucking bet." Then, you turn to him, eyebrows raised, "what about you, Catton?"
Felix kind of feels like you'd just smacked him. What?
"How did you know -?"
"Heard your name a dozen times over the week, we're in the same course," you offered easily. This Felix knew, however the alarm bells in Felix's mind just started ringing louder. There was something about you now, something almost too casual about how you choose to look away, take another sip of your drink.
"Pretty sure they only asked for our first names," he frowns. There's something rather dreadful the way you look at him out of the corner of your eye, smile curling at the edges of your lips like you're pleased.
"Perceptive one, aren't you?" The tone of your voice makes him feel like he's won the world's worst prize. Pushing off of the wall, you make a start towards him, and the path off of campus. You shove your hands in the pockets of your leather jacket as you pass, "walk with me, Felix Catton," you called out to him as he watches you pass.
He thinks you might be a trickster spirit, attempting to steal his soul. Or maybe you're just going to kill him.
For some stupid reason, he still chooses to walk with you.
He really tries not to dwell on how unsettling it was that you seemed to know more about him than you let on. He's pretty sure he recognises you from somewhere, perhaps you'd recognised him too, and you'd simply remembered.
"You're Y/N," your last name, however, does not come to mind. You confirmed easily, offering him a cigarette. He doesn't need to prompt for your last name, thankfully; you offer it. Somehow, it still doesn't feel like an equal exchange. There's several minutes of silence, broken only by the gentle sound of gravel crunching beneath both your feet, and the occasional sip you take of your drink. Finally, Felix asks who Decker is.
"Twenty stone worth of bigotry shoved into the most weasly looking cunt you've ever seen in your life," you muttered darkly, though the wording shocks a laugh from Felix, and your anger softens at the sound, wearing a pleased little grin when you look over to him, "he knows I check everything, especially his shit since I don't trust him, don't know how he thought he could pull a fast one on me like that."
"What kind of work do you do?"
"It's just the family business," you shrugged off the question with ease, "I've been helping dad out with it for years, so he's asked me to take care of a few things while he's on holiday."
"Local paper?"
"What?"
"You were talking about something going to print on Monday, does your family run a local paper back home?" When Felix's question is met with silence, he looks to you. He wasn't expecting to see you looking suddenly uncomfortable.
"Something like that," was all you offered, evasively. There's another beat of silence before you seem to shrug off your discomfort, giving him a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes, "our parents are friends," direct and to the point, "I used to see you at," you paused for a moment, deliberating, adding carefully, "parties." Eyes bright, there's still something careful beneath that in the way you're watching him. Parties, you say when he knows you meant events. The formal kind he fucking hated. Huh.
"That's where you got my name from," his relief, however, is short-lived when he sees the strange look you give him. But in the next minute it's gone, and you're looking out to the road ahead.
"Exactly."
For reasons Felix can't put into words, there's not a single part of him that believes you.
#felix catton x reader#saltburn x reader#saltburn imagine#felix catton imagine#felix catton x y/n#felix catton x you#manic writer#ceo au#felix imagine#felix x reader#felix x you
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Chapter 6: I'd Live And Die For Moments That We Stole
Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy?
Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Tags Updated Per Chapter
Author's Note: so ttpd was released while writing this, and oh my god some of the songs on there work a little to well with either this fic or arthur morgan in general
also was not expecting so much attention from the ghoul fic and i will continue to write for him, i just still want to work on this too!
Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay
Chapter List
Hans was home for three and a half weeks.
Your days were either spent alone in your house, Hans shutting himself in his office, or out on the town, heading to dinners, plays, movies, and miscellaneous events that you hardly remembered. It was always a blur to you, anyway.
You’d only caught glimpses of Arthur throughout the past weeks. He’d sometimes be roaming the streets of the cities you were in, keeping his distance, but you’d always feel his watchful eye on you. It made those days better, knowing that in a way he was by your side.
If Hans noticed the extra eyes watching the two of you, more specifically you, he didn’t say anything. He still acted the same, attentive and loving husband in the public eye, cold and disdainful behind closed doors. It was exhausting, but you pushed through.
The two of you had been at a party all night, your feet ached and the muscles of your face were strained from smiling so much. You had just walked into your house, around midnight, and you were exhausted. Hans had immediately retired upstairs, and you followed after him, getting ready for bed in your closet.
You pulled off your dress, the fabric itchy and uncomfortable, and you had slipped into your nightgown. Slipping into bed beside Hans, you fell asleep rather quickly, and the night passed dreamlessly, much to your disappointment.
You woke up alone, which wasn’t too out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary was that he didn't come down for breakfast, not responding when you called for him. When you knocked on his office door, there was no response. Confused, you peered outside, pleasantly shocked to find the carriage missing. He’d never just left like that; there was always some sort of heads up, and he always requested your company in bed.
You were nowhere near upset, though, and you gleefully cleaned up the kitchen. You spent the next few days in your garden, luckily not as wrecked as it was the first time, your planters holding up well.
It was the third night when you heard a knock on your door, and you couldn’t help the giddy smile on your face as you bolted to the door. You didn’t have to look through the peephole to know who was there, and you opened the door quickly.
There was Arthur Morgan on the other side of your door, hair longer than you remembered, but that same dazzling grin on his face.
You stood there, not quite shocked, but your brain was still unsure of how to react. Your body knew, though, and you nearly tackled him to the ground with the force of your hug, arms wrapping around his neck.
He wasn’t expecting your reaction, a startled whoa leaving him, but he immediately reciprocated the hug, like he needed this just as badly as you did. You sagged into his arms, a breath you’d been holding for the last three and a half weeks finally being released. Resting your head on his chest, that comforting smell of him made you smile. Oh, how you missed him.
“I missed ya too, darlin’,” he chuckled, and you tilted your head back to look up at him. It was adorable, the way his ears turned red, flustered by your sheer adoration of him.
You snuck a hand up into his hair, combing through the longer strands that stuck out from beneath his hat. He sighed under your touch, his eyes threatening to flutter close. “It’s so long now,” you muttered more to yourself, and you watched him raise a brow.
“I just keep forgettin’ to cut it,” he admitted.
“I ain’t complainin’,'' you laughed. “It suits you.”
He just hummed noncommittally, and the two of you stood in silence, simply taking in the presence of the other. You saw the way his eyes flicked down to your lips and then back up. The motion was quick, like he was unsure if you’d want him to kiss you again, if you thought the last time had been a mistake.
You didn’t give him a chance to get lost in his thoughts, standing up on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his. His beard was longer than last time, too. It was less of a stubble and more of a soft layer of hair, and it tickled less than last time.
He smiled, barely able to contain his relief, and you felt him cup the side of your face, bringing your face back for a proper kiss. When his lips slotted against yours, you reconfirmed your belief from the first time; he truly did feel like home.
“I really did miss you,” you whispered out once the kiss broke.
“I’m here now. Unfortunate for you,” he chuckled, and you slapped him lightly on the chest.
“Hush, Arthur,” you admonished, shaking your head. “C’mon, let's get inside.”
It took a few moments for you two to release each other, and you took his hand once you stepped apart, leading him into the house. You didn’t even have to ask before he was taking off his boots, and you were dragging him upstairs.
The implications of what you were doing were lost to you as you brought him upstairs, but you heard Arthur mutter your name, confused but not completely against the idea.
“For the life of me, I can’t get into his office,” you explained. “I ain’t got the skills you do.”
“And I do? Quite rude of you to assume.”
You scoffed, sparing him a disbelieving look. “Arthur, did you forget how we met?”
By this time you’d reached the top of the stairs, standing outside the locked office door. Excitement caused your heart to race, not ready for what you might possibly find in the office. Even though you were raised to not be a snoop, it was quite fun digging into peoples personal items, and it was especially fun when said personal items belong to your husband.
“Fair enough,” Arthur conceded, and he pulled a few items out of his pocket, tools you assumed he was going to use to pick the lock. “This’ll just take a sec.”
Arthur got down on his knees in front of the door, and you watched as he fiddled with the tools, silently listening for something. You had no idea what he was doing, but it was quite fascinating to watch. Besides, you got to appreciate the way hands flexed and fingers moved as he worked the lock.
It was less than thirty seconds before he was standing up, a small yet proud smirk on his face. “It… it’s that easy?”
Arthur laughed at that. “Nah, it was unlocked.”
“You’re fuckin’ kidding.”
He stared at you blankly before laughing again. “You shoulda seen your face. Yes, I’m kiddin’.”
“Arthur Morgan!” That just made him laugh harder, and you cherished the sound, locking it away in your brain. You joined in, chucklining lightly. “You bastard,” you teased.
“Sorry,” he replied, not sounding sorry at all “I had to. Forgive me.”
You shook your head, leaning against the wall. “I don’t.”
“Then what do I gotta do to earn your forgiveness, darlin’?” He moved toward you, brushing his fingers over the apple of your cheek, tucking away hair that wasn’t there.
“I could think of a few ways,” you murmured, not so subtly looking at his plush lips.
Grinning, he didn’t bother responding before kissing you, hat knocking into your head. “Am I forgiven now?”
You snuck in one last quick peck before responding. “I guess.”
“I’ll take that.”
He held your face for a few moments longer, eyes sparkling with adoration. His expression then sobered, and he shoved the tools back into his pocket, removing his hand and setting it on the doorknob. “You ready?”
You took his other hand, nodding, and he held the door open for you as you stepped into his office for the first time.
It was way messier than you expected. Stacks of books and piles of paper seemed to loom over you; one stray gust of air could topple it all down. There were high shelves lining one of the walls, filled floor to ceiling with different books, knicknacks, and various loose papers stuck between the books. A large oak desk stood in the middle, a large leather chair tucked in, equally as covered with papers, and various splotches of ink had long since dried into the wood.
There weren’t any windows, making the room stuffy, and you could feel the dust tickling your nose. You were left speechless, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with the amount of stuff in front of you. “How…” you managed to let out, and Arthur just shook his head.
He made his way to the desk, your hands still intertwined, and he began to shuffle through the papers, spreading them around on the desk. His eyes danced around the papers, and he let out a sigh, nothing sticking out to him. You opened the drawers, only seeing junk and even more paper.
You were about to shut the final one before a rectangular shape caught your eye. Pulling it out, you set it on the desk, the book automatically falling open. Leaning in to investigate further, you realized it was a ledger book of sorts, but everything was written in shorthand or codes, indecipherable to you.
“The hell?” Arthur murmured, just as confused as you were. “This even English?”
“Maybe?” You flipped the pages, the words changing but still not understandable. “I mean, it’s obviously a ledger, but that’s all I can tell.”
When you flipped a few more pages the same thing happened, you sighed. “I thought it would’ve been that easy, just finding the ledger book and having everything you needed to know be right there.”
“It usually is. Criminals ain’t the smartest sometimes.” Arthur pulled out the chair and sat in it. You sat on the arm rest, leaning against Arthur a bit, your foot still holding most of your weight. “Let’s see here…”
Arthur looked through the papers on the desk again, and you were able to catch glimpses of what they were; they were a mix of receipts, letters, and various documentation. There were a few names, none of which you recognized, and you watched Arthur scribble them down into his notebook.
“I think that should be good for now.”
You weren’t going to lie, you had spaced out a bit while scanning over the various documents, the writing quickly turning to a blur in your eyes. You jumped when Arthur stood, nearly causing you to topple over, but you felt him secure you with a hand on your waist. “Already?” You asked.
“I’ve got a few names’ I’ll see where they lead.” Arthur shrugged. “I don’t wanna spend too much time in here, anyway.” To prove his point, he led you out of the office, shutting the door behind you.
“Then why’d you come over?”
“Ouch.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you chuckled.
“Will you ever believe that I come over just to see you?”
“Probably not.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, and began to lead you back downstairs. “Where you takin’ me?” You asked, and he didn’t respond, getting his shoes on and leaving the house. “Arthur?”
“You’ll see,” was all he said, not letting go of your hand as you descended the stairs.
“What’re we doin’?”
Arthur sighed. “Have you ever heard of a surprise?”
The familiar form of Bear caught your eye, and you made a noise to get his attention. It worked, the horse flicking its head towards you, nickering excitedly as you and Arthur approached.
“Hello, Bear!” You let go of Arthur’s hand, striding over to the horse happily. You missed how affectionately Arthur looked at you, a warm smile on his lips as he watched you. “How’s my favorite boy doin’?”
“That’s the second time I’ve been insulted by you today.”
You ran one of your hands on his snout, the other patting his neck. “Ignore him, Bear. He’s grumpy.” You rambled out praises to the horse, and his eyes visibly relaxed, practically pressing himself into your hands. “Such a good boy, Bear.”
You felt his lips on your neck first, the soft beard barely tickling your skin. His arms were next, wrapping over yours, keeping you pressed close to his chest. “What did I say ‘bout spoilin’ my horse, darlin’?” He rocked with you side to side, occasionally pressing his lips against your skin.
“He deserves it,” you giggled. “He always brings you back to me.”
Arthur stilled. “I… I suppose you’re right.”
“I am right.” You broke the tension that threatened to form with a verbal jab, and Arthur chuckled.
His arms released your body, but he kept his hands on you, trailing them over your arms, and then settling on your hips. “You ready?”
“Sure, but you-”
Arthur cut you off by grasping your waist, lifting you effortlessly and setting you on the back of Bear. A startled cry left your lips, and you glared at Arthur once he set you down. “A warning next time?” You tried to not seem as freaked out as you were, clutching at the saddle in front of you for some sense of stability.
“I did,” he responded, chuckling when your glare returned. When he got into the saddle in front of you, you instinctively wrapped your arms around him, clinging on to him. “You good?” He asked, concern in his voice.
“I…” you felt ashamed to admit to him, “I ain’t been on a horse in… years. Not since I was a little kid.”
“Bear’s a good horse. He’s never bucked me off, if you’re afraid of that.”
You exhaled shakily, your head resting on his back. “Alright, just don’t expect me to let go.”
“I’ll never complain ‘bout your hands on me,” he almost proudly admitted, and in response you just tighten your grip. “Ready?” He asked again.
“Yes.” You didn’t bother asking what you were doing again, knowing you weren’t going to get an answer.
Arthur kicked his heel lightly, giving Bear the go ahead to start moving. You refrained from gripping on to him tighter, not wanting to choke the poor man, and you watched the scenery begin to move past you. Arthur kept a slower pace, no doubt a pace he normally wouldn’t ride at, but his consideration towards you had you melting.
Even though most of the wind was blocked by Arthur’s frame, you still felt it grace your skin, hair streaming behind you. It felt nice, not too chilly, and it helped you relax.
It took a few moments for you to lift your head from his back, your arms loosening, settling lightly on his waist. “Alright?” He asked, the wind not loud enough to overpower his voice yet.
“I think so. Are… are you gonna tell me yet?”
“Do you trust me?” Interesting response, you thought.
“Of course.”
“Then trust me when I say you’re gonna like it.”
“You’re no fun,” you teased, feeling comfortable enough to remove one of your hands from his waist, flicking the back of his hat.
Arthur grumbled something, but you could hear his smile.
He rode on for a few minutes, and you took the time to just absorb the beautiful scenery around you. It was much more enjoyable to look at when you weren’t crammed into a stuffy carriage with a miserable man.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a large stag, hidden between the bushes. His head followed the both of you as you passed, but it quickly turned when a doe approached him from one of the bushes. You didn’t get to point them out to Arthur before they were scampering away, the stag following the doe into the thicket, the sound of branches snapping the only proof of their existence.
You truly had no idea where Arthur was taking you, your attention focusing back on the road. He had returned to the main road, sure, but he wasn’t heading in the direction of any major towns. The thick woodland had turned sparse, making way for rolling hills of grass with the occasional flower, with flocks of animals out enjoying the incredible weather.
As Arthur continued the slow pace, you began to feel antsy, and you were also feeling a bit brace. “You can go faster,” you leaned forward to tell him, and he looked over at you.
“Yeah?”
When you made a comfiring noise, he grinned, looking positively excited. It made him look so young, so carefree, and you couldn’t help but grin in response.
Securing your grip back around him, he urged Bear on more, who was more than happy to comply. A startled laugh left you as Bear went faster, your smile widening, wind whipping against your body. It was exhilarating, but you needed more.
“Faster!” You had to start shouting a bit, the wind becoming more intense.
Arthur shook his head, chuckling, and you watched him spur Bear on again. He broke into a gallop, the world around you becoming a blur. You don’t think you’ve ever moved this fast in your life, and it was incredible. Laughing joyfully, you felt Arthur do the same, leading Bear along the road with small pulls on the reigns.
You’re not sure how long you two tore through the countryside, but it felt like no time had passed before Arthur was bringing Bear to a trot. You were still laughing, brushing back your hair which you were sure was a complete mess, but you didn’t care.
Artur led you off the main road, leading you up a large yet gradual hill. The top was completely flat, with only a few dry bushes and patches of grass interrupting the stone. A few small rodents looked at you curiously, before retreating to their burrows.
Dismounting, Arthur didn’t secure Bear to anything, but you knew that he trusted him to not run off. After swinging your leg over, Arthur helped you down, holding you even when your feet hit the ground. Something flashed over his face as he watched you catch your breath, the wide grin on your lips never ceasing. His thumb rubbed into your skin where he held you on your waist, which didn’t help to calm down your racing heart.
“Good?”
You nodded. “I’m wonderful. That was… that was incredible. You get to do that every day?” You asked, something similar to envy in your voice.
“If you ever want to take him out for a ride, just let me know. I think Bear’d love that.”
You glanced back at the horse, who was watching you expectantly. Laughing slightly, you left the comforting hold of Arthur, patting Bear's neck. Arthur moved beside you, grabbing something fabric looking from the saddlebags, as well as a bottle of what assumed to be liquor. He extended an arm for you, and you gladly took it, linking your arm with his. It was similar to the way Hans would have you on his arm, showing you off almost like an accessory. This felt different, though, like it always did with Arthur.
You shook the thoughts of your husband out of your mind; right now was about you and Arthur. He led you to the edge of the hill, and you let out a gasp at the view. You were able to see what felt like the entirety of The Heartlands, rolling fields of grass as far as the eye could see. Mountains dotted the skyline, and you could see a few small towns littered about. Hoards of different animals grazed, from bison to deer to turkeys.
So enthralled by the view in front of you, you hadn’t noticed Arthur laying out a blanket beside you, until he tugged lightly at your arm. He pulled you down to a seated position, sitting behind you so you could rest your back against him. His arms immediately wrapped around you when you did, pressing a kiss to your cheek before settling his head on your shoulder, watching the landscape with you.
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, and you heard Arthur humm in agreement. “How’d you find this?”
“I was huntin’, and I was tracking somethin’ that led me up here. As soon as I saw it I knew I had to bring you here.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Arthur thought of you while he was out on his travels. “You think ‘bout me a lot, Arthur Morgan?” You teased, pushing away a feeling you were too scared to name still.
“All the damn time,” he admitted, an airy laugh leaving him and tickling your ear. “You know that.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just like hearin’ you say it.”
Arthur didn’t respond, just holding you like you were a lifeline, and you found that you could spend the rest of your life wrapped up in his arms. Eventually, conversation started between the two of you, catching the other up on what had transpired over the last few weeks, the liquor bottle Arthur brough being uncorked and passed between the two of you. It was a decent tasting whiskey, but you only took a few sips, not wanting to have this moment be clouded over with fuzziness.
His arms had stayed wrapped around you for most of the time, but over the past hour had slowly let up, choosing to run his fingers over your body instead. It started with small touches on your side, before trialing up and down your arms and legs, to up your shoulder, brushing against your neck. It was like he was trying to memorize your body simply with his touch.
Every time he brushed over a sensitive area of your body, you’d shiver, and he’d smile, changing the infliction of his voice if he was speaking. It was hard to stay focused, either on his words or your own story.
This was the fifth time you’d trailed off while you were speaking, and you laughed, resting your head back. “You’re distractin’ me.”
“You want me to stop?”
“Never.”
Arthur chuckled, and you felt those calloused fingers brush over your arms again, moving down to your hands. “Can’t help myself. Beautiful woman in my arms, it’d be a crime not to touch her.”
You’re sure your cheeks were dangerously warm. “Well, she ain’t complainin’,” you breathed out, and you felt his hands rest on the back of your, fingers weaving into yours.
“You ain’t wearin’ your ring.” He sounded like he was almost in disbelief.
You glanced down at your left hand, his much larger once encapsulating it. You’d taken it off a day ago, setting it in your nightstand. You’re not quite sure why you did it, but it felt like fifty pounds had been lifted off you when you took it off. “No, I ain’t.”
His right hand grasped your chin, turning your face towards his, which continued to rest on your shoulder. Pure longing was written across his face, but his lips were possessive when they made contact with yours. The grasp shifted from your chin to the side of your face, fingers tracing patterns into your cheeks. It pulled you in closer to him, but you needed him closer. You needed to feel him.
You shifted so that you were facing him, hands bracing on his chest. You felt him sigh when your hands traveled up, over his neck and tanging into his hair. His hat hit the ground behind him, and he pulled you into his lap, your lips never separating once. The new angle had you leaning above him slightly, your hands in his hair pulling his head back, but he didn’t mind.
You had forgotten what it was like to be kissed with so much passion, so much energy, and you couldn’t help but admit to yourself what you’d been trying to bury for weeks: you were in love with him.
It made you gasp, pulling away from the kiss and resting your head against his. It wasn’t that you were against the fact that you were in love with him. But you had no idea if he felt the same. You knew he cared about you, there was no denying that, but was he in love with you? Knowing what kind of life Arthur lived, you didn’t see him as the committal type, not wanting to be bound to a person or place.
He took you pulling away as you needing a moment to breathe, smiling gently at you. A large hand cupped the side of your face, and you melted into his touch, like you could respond any other way.
You debated just confessing to him right there, but anxiety welded your mouth close. Instead, you opted to just kiss him again, quick but no less lovely.
Sitting back on his lap, the sun was beginning to disappear below the horizon, just behind Arthur. The lighting made him look ethereal, brown hair golden, and you’re sure you were staring at him like a lovestruck fool. “You’re so beautiful,” you sighed out, laughing a bit when he looked away embarrassed.
“Shouldn’t I be sayin’ that to you?”
“You already have. It’s my turn.”
He chuckled, still not believing what you were saying, but he was humoring you. “Alright, darlin’, how much whiskey did you have?”
You were drunk on something much better than the whiskey, that’s for sure. “I mean it, Arthur. You’re gorgeous.”
It was clear that he still didn’t believe you, but he thanked you anyway, kissing you lightly again. Resting your head on his shoulder, you wrapped your arms around his broad body, holding him in a embrace.
You sat in Arthur’s lap for a good while, simply holding each other, and you felt the occasion kiss on your head. The two of you didn’t feel the need to talk, and you got lost in the sound of Arthur’s breathing.
The sun had set, and as it left so did its warmth, cool night air hitting your body. You shivered, Arthur’s body heat doing nothing to protect your back from the cold. “As lovely as this is, I’d hate for you to get sick,” you heard Arthur murmur, and you hated that he was right. You didn’t want to leave, but you knew you’d regret it if you didn’t.
“Alright,” you huffed out, untangling yourself from him, which just made you more cold. Standing up, you grabbed his hat for him as he stood, and you placed it atop his head. He grinned up at you, grabbing the blanket and draping it over his arm, extending the other for you again.
Just like he had led you up the hill, he led you down to where Bear was resting, his ears flicking happily when he saw the two of you approaching. You gave him a few pats before Arthur lifted you on to his rump, and even then you were sure to murmur to him. Arthur handed you the blanket, and you wrapped it around your shoulders, keeping it secure between your two bodies once he joined you on Bear.
As he took off, one of his hands went back to rest on your thigh, like he was making sure that you were still with him. Like you’d want to be anywhere else. And if someone tried to take you away, then you’d fight like a cornered animal to get back.
The ride back was different at night; scenery that was once peaceful and comforting now becoming foreign and terrifying. Arthur went quick, not as quickly as before, but fast enough that said terrifying scenery went by fast.
The ride felt shorter than you wished, the familiar sight of your house causing you to sigh, holding on to Arthur a tad bit tighter than what was necessary.
Pulling up to the porch, he dismounted quickly, helping you down again. You were sure to leave the blanket on Bear, giving him a goodnight pat before climbing the stairs, Arthur following behind.
You lingered in the doorway after he held the door open for you, an invitation for him to come in on the tip of your tongue. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say them, not wanting to scare him away. So you just smiled at him, kissing him lightly on the cheek.
“Wait,” you heard him say before you were about to wish him a good night, “I’ve got somethin’ for you.”
Curious, you cocked your head as he dug into his satchel,pulling out a torn out piece of paper. “Read it when you get inside,” he instructed as he handed it to you.
“Should I be worried?” You joked.
“Nah,” he chuckled. “Just… you’ll see when you read it.”
Well, now you were excited. “Okay…” you laughed, before kissing him for the final time that night. “I had an amazin’ day today, so thank you. Sincerely.”
“Of course, darlin’. Have a good night.”
“‘Night, Arthur. Come back to me, okay?”
He nodded, tilting his hat at you, stepping down the porch. In the back of your mind, you remembered the lessons you’d had in the backyard with Arthur, learning how to shoot and gun. You remembered that today you were supposed to learn how to reload it, but it had completely slipped from your mind until now. You let it pass again, though. There was always next time.
You stood in the doorway until Arthur was long gone, clutching the note to your chest. When you finally retreated inside, you sighed happily, still caught up in the trance that the night had been.
Sitting on the couch, you looked over the small piece of paper, clearly torn from his journal. There was an address scrawled across the top in that familiar messy cursive, some place in the state of Ambarino. It didn’t make much sense to you, so you read the following note left by Arthur, which started with your name.
It took a bit of asking around, but I was able to find the new address of the Van Buren estate. From what I can tell, they’re doing well. It wouldn’t be a bad time to reach out, if and only if you feel ready.
- A
There was something scribbled out before his name, like he was planning on writing sincerely or something like that, but he must’ve deemed it too formal for a note like this.
You sat there, shocked, tears welling in your eyes as you stared at the note. Two years of no contact with your family was almost over. It was so close.
Leaning back against the couch, you held the note back to your chest, thanking the heavens for Arthur. There was no denying it now; you were so in love with him.
#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#arthur morgan rdr2#arthur morgan x reader#arthur morgan x female reader
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bea's masterlist
18+ minors do not interact, * indicates smut
currently writing for mike schmidt, josh futturman, peeta mellark, derek danforth & joel miller
requests are open
thanks for stopping by <3
fic updates @cupofjoel
derek danforth
mama's boy *
derek always answers when his mom calls, no matter what or who he's doing
josh futturman
take all of me *
when a messy time jump leaves josh with a brand new body part, the only person he wants to show is you
dating start!
your first date with josh is likely the best you've ever been on, but you're pretty sure he has no clue it's valentine's day
solo round *
josh is sick of meaningless charging, but instead of asking out the pretty, new game store cashier, he decides to take matters into his own hands. again.
peeta mellark
here in the garden * [series]
the capitol was supposed to let you live in peace after you played and won their brutal game, and for nearly a decade, they did—until you're chosen as district 11's tribute once again for a special quarter quell. yet somehow, peace finds you anyway in an unlikely form: a golden-haired baker's boy from district 12 who makes you feel alive even in the familiar face of death.
finnick odair
safe & sound
after years of hard nights and bad dreams, finnick knows better than anyone how to make you feel safe again
mike schmidt
love like you
mike helps you through a rough patch by reminding you of the many, many reasons he loves you
piece of me
at 22 years old, mike is given custody of his infant sister after the loss of their parents. though he might not ever truly feel worthy of her, there's one thing he'll always be certain of—they belong together.
don't wanna leave this play date *
you and mike find a way to make a boring shift at freddy's a little more interesting
set my clocks early *
after months of awkward flirting at work, mike finally takes you home—but in his excitement, things end a little prematurely
waiting to spill *
mike never thought your week-long trip home would lead to the discovery of a costly new craving
it's been so long *
you and mike are well aware of your feelings for each other, but it's a line you won't cross. maybe it's time you finally did.
dye this space red *
mike's a pretty sensitive guy, emotionally and otherwise, and there's a theory you'd love to test on his thighs
happiest day *
when you least expect it, mike surprises you with a confession
eyes on the monitor *
mike catches something on the security cameras that really shouldn't be happening at a family-friendly pizzeria—even an abandoned one
his purple sweater *
mike really likes the way you look in his favorite sweater
joel miller
his favorite girl * [series]
joel agrees to teach you how to play guitar for a college course, but you can't keep your eyes off him long enough to play. your lessons get a lot harder when you realize he feels the same.
keep it on the low * [series]
after a rough breakup, you and joel strike up a deal to keep sleeping together. you don't talk about it, you don't tell anyone, and you definitely don't get attached. definitely.
you're a mean one, mr. miller
you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift
a matter of time *
joel can't remember the last time he took things slow and let himself feel. you give him a gentle reminder.
body language *
joel shows up at your place in the middle of the night with a camcorder and an idea
give in *
joel shows you how to love yourself the way you deserve
switching the positions *
a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller
the way we fight *
you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one
come clean *
joel comes home after a messy day on patrol, but you're already in the shower
you take my self control *
your first act of brutality leaves you reeling, but you realize you’ve started to crave that violence and it terrifies you. joel steps in to satisfy your craving.
living in a state of dreaming
joel's nightmares have evolved into full-blown sleepwalking. you and ellie remind him that, together, you'll always keep each other safe
a sudden sense of liberty
joel reminds you that you'll never truly be alone
here in your arms *
joel's arms are especially distraction this morning, so you decide to wake him up and do something about it
way too damn needy *
after an extremely frustrating day off work, joel's feeling needy and lets you take control
one more cup of coffee
you wake up on an unassuming monday morning and discover what you've always known—you're in love with joel miller
does your mother know? *
joel never could've anticipated what his friends' daughter had in store for him when he got invited to friday night dinner
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller masterlist#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt x you#mike schmidt smut#mike schmidt imagine#fnaf imagine#fnaf smut#peeta mellark x reader#peeta mellark x you#peeta mellark angst#peeta mellark smut#peeta mellark imagine#finnick odair imagine#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair x you#the hunger games fanfiction#the hunger games imagine#josh futturman x reader#josh futturman x you#josh futturman smut#future man fanfiction#future man imagine#derek danforth x reader
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Welcome to Ninjago Fic Fest!
schedule || ao3 prompting form and collection || claiming form || dropout form || prompting without ao3 form || updates tag
What's a fic fest?
A fic fest is an event not unlike a secret santa in which fic writers create a story based on someone else’s prompt. The twist here is that instead of some mod assigning you a recipient, you get to choose the prompt that you write! Prompts are submitted by the community (writers and non-writers alike) on ao3, and over a period of two months writers will create a fic based one of those prompts.
How do I participate?
There are two ways to participate in the fest: prompting and claiming/writing. No sign up is required for prompting, and you can decide at any time within that two-month period whether or not you're going to write. You can participate in just prompting, just claiming/writing, or both!
Prompts can be submitted by anyone, not just writers.
Prompting guidelines:
no NSFW prompts
please specify any Wants or Do Not Wants
please leave room for writer creativity in your prompts
prompts may be deleted at mod discretion
Prompting will run from April 6th to April 27th.
After prompting closes, writers will be able to claim prompts on a first come/first serve basis using the claiming form. You must have an ao3 account to participate in claiming/writing.
Claiming/writing guidelines:
no NSFW submissions
submissions must be a minimum of 500 words
submissions must be mindful of their prompt's Wants and Do Not Wants (though you don't have to follow every Want to a T)
chaptered works are allowed as long as the submitted portion equals or exceeds the minimum word count
What happens once all fics are submitted?
Once all the fics are submitted to the ao3 collection, they will be revealed anonymously. After a short period, authors will then be revealed.
What if I need to drop out?
It's super easy to drop out of the event! Since you're not assigned a recipient, there's no one you're letting down by dropping out since there's no guarantee that any prompt will get filled; most won't, in fact, just by the nature of the event. The dropout form is there for this purpose.
Sounds fun! How do I get started?
Actual prompting for the fest will open in one week, on April 6th! In the meantime, follow this blog to stay up-to-date on the happenings. More detailed instructions/information will come as we reach each stage of the event, but if you have any questions, the ask box is always open.
Thanks for checking us out, and I'm so excited to see what we'll all create!
@ninjago-events
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3. we can get away, palm trees, beach views ...
Let's Get Lost Chapter 3 | Frankie Morales x female reader
Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place.
However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster …
Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie
Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, references to past drug addiction, references to food and alcohol, discusison of TF canon events, Frankie and the reader are parents to a toddler, past break-ups.
Word Count: 2500
Notes: Thank you for the lovely feedback so far - it's meant so much to me and I hope you enjoy this update. I have a lot planned for this fic. The chapter title is from I Want You Around by Snoh Aalegra.
Previous | Series | Next
You can hear the birds outside when you wake up. Soft, lyrical songs coax you awake and you hear yourself groan slightly.
There are thin lines of light streaming through the gaps in the shutters and you’re surprised you can’t hear your daughter. She’s usually awake by now.
“Clara’s still asleep,” he says in a low voice.
“That’s got to be a record,” you whisper back drowsily, quietly shifting yourself so you’re propped up by your pillows.
Frankie is bolt upright in bed, a book loosely clasped in his hands and you can see that the reading lamp by his side of the bed is turned on. Despite the dim yellow light you can still take in every detail of his face, the freckles adorning his neck, the laughter lines, his stubble.
“Mornin’” he says, meeting your sleepy gaze.
“Hi, what time is it?”
“About six?” Frankie stifles a yawn.
“Why aren’t you asleep still?”
“Just woke up early. Couldn’t - y’know …”
You look at the book in his hands, he’s a lot further ahead now than you remember him being when he placed the bookmark in last night. You notice his worn eyes, the way he looks like he’s been awake for a while.
“How’s it shaping up?” you ask, indicating the book and leaning slightly over your pillow barrier.
For a second you’re not here, you’re back in Florida a few years ago and this is your usual morning routine. All sepia lighting, soft kisses, lingering touches and hot skin against you.
You remember awkward giggles about morning breath, the way he’d kiss you like he’d been waiting for years when it had only been a matter of hours.
You return to reality with the sound of Clara’s soft snores.
Frankie smirks at you. “She gets that from -”
“Do not finish that sentence, Francisco.”
He raises his hands with an easy grin. “Full name, huh? So, do you want to try her for a bit at the kids’ club this afternoon? Get her used to it more before we’re deep in all the wedding events?”
“She’s been really excited about that and meeting the other kids,” you say. You often wonder how two introverted people produced such a gregarious child. You imagine maybe Frankie was that confident as a little boy; you can see it - all round cheeks, mischievous grin and open eyes.
“She just takes everything in her stride,” Frankie whispers.
“She’s strong.”
“Like you.”
“I meant, like you,” you say.
Frankie shakes his head but there’s the slightest hint of a twitch on his lips.
You could reach over and touch him - it feels natural.
You can remember what his lips felt like on yours - the way his hand would so carefully and lightly move down your waist in a movement so delicate you used to think of it as his fingers dancing down your body.
It’s just proximity, it’s just the proximity.
You need more pillows for the barrier.
You lean back against your chair, listening to the steady sound of the ocean in the distance.
You spent the morning exploring in the local town with Lia and Sophie. At first you felt slightly guilty to not be spending time with Clara, but she was excited about a morning with her tios before heading to the kid’s club. It is Lia’s wedding break after all and you want to celebrate with her.
It had been a really good morning; you’d found a great cafe, wandered around tourist destinations and most importantly had enjoyed your time with Lia and Sophia. The three of you kept laughing and joking and any doubt you had that you would feel out of sorts for being the only one of them who was an ex swiftly vanished. In fact, you hadn’t discussed men once. It had been great.
All of you have now met up for a late lunch back at the hotel before you drop Clara off at the kid’s club. You’re sitting opposite Frankie who today has bought out one of what you used to semi-affectionally dub his ‘loud shirts’. Frankie’s style has always ranged from simple, casual basics to the occasional louder shirt that you feel would be associated more with a PI than an ex-army pilot. It’s Frankie though. You seem to remember those shirts were pretty soft too.
You take a sip of your drink, enjoying the sweet and refreshing taste of the coconut flavoured cocktail.
Frankie catches your eye and smiles briefly.
You’re finally starting to feel a little relaxed; that nagging anxiety to check your emails or to just be ‘on’ all of the time is starting to abate.
Santi stands up and raises his glass. “Okay, I wanted to call out that we’ve got the team back together and it only took Benny here getting married for that,” Santi says cheerfully, “and it’s a double celebration today because we need to mark that Frankie got the official confirmation yesterday he’s getting his licence back.”
You watch Frankie’s face colour up with the attention.
“No fucking way,” Benny exclaims, “finally, Frankie! I’m so fucking pleased for you.”
He’s got his licence back? you think immediately, proud that he’s achieved this goal he was working towards. It’s another sign of his sobriety, of his recovery.
It stings though. He didn’t tell you. He couldn’t do this while you were together either.
He didn’t tell you. He could have told you this morning - did he not want to? Or is it just that in your new co-parenting role you don’t get to know these things immediately anymore. You’re not his girlfriend or fiancée, you’re not one of his best friends, you’re not sure where you stand anymore.
He meets your gaze and nervously nods at you, wringing his hands slightly as Benny swallows him into a one-armed hug, delicately balancing his drink with the other hand.
“That’s great news, Frankie, well done,” you say, your voice sounding clipped and cold even to you.
Will frowns at you and you feel your palms growing sweaty with embarrassment as you notice Santi shaking his head. You tighten your grasp around your oblivious daughter who immediately fidgets on your lap.
You’re doing this all wrong.
You shouldn’t be here anyway.
“I - it’s time I need to drop Clara off. I’ll uh - I’ll, um, see you all later.”
You feel Frankie’s eyes on you the whole time you’re walking away.
“Fucking really, Santi?” you hear Frankie say as you walk away.
You're not hiding. Not officially. You watch the waves ebb and flow in the near distance, scrunching your toes on the sand just past the terrace from your room. There's the faintest sound of laughter, of people enjoying their time on the beach.
You shut your eyes. How did you get the lunch so wrong?
The door closes behind you and you turn around instantly, caught in the headlights as you see Frankie standing there.
“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, hesitance clear in his voice. “You just walked off? I thought we’d take Clara to the club together.”
Another failing. Why do you keep getting this so wrong? "I - I just - crap."
He pulls the terrace door to and sits on the sand next to you, hugging his knees. "It's not a big deal, sw- it's not a big deal. Just - what's wrong?"
“You didn’t tell me,” you finally say, trying so hard to hide the hurt in your voice. Frankie doesn’t have to tell you things anymore, you know that. You just thought that maybe he’d want to.
You’re friends again, right?
Frankie looks down at the sand and exhales a heavy, poignant sigh. He seems to be stopping himself from saying something, probably that it is none of your business. You watch him open his mouth then close it a couple of times and wait patiently.
“I know.”
“Do you not want to tell me things anymore? I mean, I guess you don’t have to but I thought -”
“I didn’t tell you because I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he confides.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve spent the past few years with this single mission. Get sober, get my licence again, get my life, or at least something like it, back.“ He pauses, looking at you and then away from you quickly. A question pops into your head and immediately dissipates - no, you can’t go there.
“Well, you’ve done it,” you say gently, placing a hand on his sandy bicep. He’s all sun warmed skin and you can smell the hint of sunscreen as you sit next to him too.
“I never thought about - about what would happen once I got those things,” he admits. “I guess, I didn’t want to jinx it, I didn’t think I’d even get it back.”
“You don’t know if you want to fly anymore?”
Frankie lives for flying. The passion you remember in his voice, the way his eyes light up when he talks about the technicalities, the detail of the science and data behind flying. He used to read flight manuals to Clara when she was sobbing with colic through the night, right before the relapse and Colombia. Every time you see a helicopter or a plane, you think of him.
Can you remember him talking about flying recently though? Can you remember that passionate, bright look in his eyes at any time recently other than when he’s with your daughter?
“The last time I was flying - I crashed it. Tom ended up dead,” he says, barely above a whisper and once again looking away from you. “It’s all on me.”
Automatically you squeeze his arm in sympathy, in the only consolation you can give right now. “Not in the crash though, you said -”
“If I hadn’t crashed it, if I had just said no to the extra weight, if I -”
“Stop, stop, Frankie.”
He looks over at you, finally meeting your gaze with wide, brown eyes. His eyes are a swirl of emotion; pain, achievement, memories you can never know, regret. There’s so much regret in his eyes now.
It’s funny, you stood in an airport baggage hall just days ago thinking he’d entirely glowed up since the break-up, but his eyes are telling you wildly different stories now.
“You can’t change the past; you can’t go over what ifs. It was - it was a tragedy but it wasn’t your tragedy, it wasn’t your fault.”
“What if it was?” he asks plaintively, “And I robbed a kid of their father, of my friend, if that’s true. Do you realise that? Can you even imagine that weight?”
“You were all grown-ups, all making your own choices that led to that exact moment. I know, I know there’s a lot about that time I don’t know, probably never will, and I don’t - I don’t want you to tell me if you don’t want to, or can’t, but know this, Frankie, you are a good man.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. For what it’s worth, I’d feel safe in any aircraft if you were flying it. ”
He swallows, looking away from you for just a moment.
“You mean that?”
“Of course.”
He nods.
Your hand has slipped into his and he squeezes. It feels so familiar, so right at this moment.
“If you don’t want to fly,” you add, “that’s okay too.”
“I don’t want Clara to have a deadbeat dad.”
“She won’t. She doesn’t.”
“I don’t want know what I’m supposed to do other than fly.”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“Okay.”
It’s only later as you return to your hotel room that you realise you said we, that you made you and Frankie a unit again.
You still mean it too.
You feel awkward about what’s going to happen at dinner. Even though you’re walking in alongside Frankie, even though you know he’s going to demonstrate that the two of you are just fine, all you think about are the disappointed looks at lunch.
To your surprise, it hurts worse than leaving your daughter with a sitter.
You can only imagine what they must think of you right now.
They must think you’re becoming that stereotype of an ex - resentful and bitter and you don’t know how to say it’s not that at all. It’s that for some reason the confirmation you weren’t the first person he’d want to tell anymore cut a deep hole in your heart.
It’s hypocritical and stupid and risks ruining everything.
There’s a revelation low in your stomach you cannot let rise yet, you cannot voice because it really will ruin everything and you’re not ready for that. You’re not ready for this - things have just started to stabilise again.
You’ve prepared for dinner though. You chose one of your favourite outfits, doused yourself in your favourite perfume and spent time on your appearance for dinner. It’s armour.
Lia smiles when she sees you. “You look gorgeous,” she says in greeting, rising up and hugging you as you join them at the large table you’ve all now mentally claimed as your own throughout your stay.
She draws you in next to her. “How’s Clara? Did she like the kid’s club?”
“She did and she likes the sitter too.” You feel terrible about having a sitter on holiday but it’s novel to have a dinner with all of your friends in the evening. Besides, between you and Frankie, you’d both extensively researched and interviewed the hotel sitter so you felt as at ease as you could under the circumstances. It’s a family holiday yes, but two hours at the club and a sitter for a dinner hardly makes you and Frankie bad parents.
“That’s so good. It’s great having you and Clara both here, you know. I know work’s been a lot recently but I’ve missed you. I’m just - I’m pleased you made it.”
“Like I’d be anywhere else,” you say candidly. “You’re my best friend, Lia.”
“Ditto, just like, don’t tell my sister that?”
“Guide’s honour,” you say with a wink.
You’re grateful for Lia, she’s one of your closest friends and somehow she knows just what you needed to hear. You vow to be there more for her this week - it’s her wedding after all!
It doesn’t escape you that Frankie’s been sat with Santi and some distance from you and you are next to Lia. You wonder whose idea this seating arrangement was - Will’s perhaps, or maybe it was Sophia. You know they must be worried about a repeat of their wedding.
You take a long sip of your drink. On the other end of the table, you can hear Frankie’s soft laughter. You can’t help thinking about your conversation with him earlier, the slight tingle in your stomach when you spoke this morning.
You broke up for a reason. You know that.
It was the right thing at the right time and it hurt that all that love you had for him, that you think he had for you, was changed by everything that had gone on them.
It has to go somewhere though, doesn’t it? It can’t just stay stagnant; you’re supposed to move on.
It’s just, you think that maybe you still love Frankie a bit. Maybe you never stopped.
This is a hideously unwelcome revelation, it’s inappropriate, it’s clearly unreciprocated. You’re supposed to just be co-parents.
There’s no just with Frankie though, there never has been.
You feel nauseas. It’s starting to look like once again you and Frankie are going to end up ruining another friend’s wedding. Your best friend’s wedding to make it worse.
Only this time, it will be entirely your fault.
Tag List
If you would like to be added to to the taglist please let me know. As a reminder this blog is 18+ - minors do not interact and I block blank/ageless blogs.
LGL tag-list: @morallyinept @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @beboldbebravethings @spishsstuff @bitchesuntitled @redcake333 @missladym1981 @kungfucapslock @dinoflower-reads @kirsteng42 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @casssiopeia @beboldbebravethings @devotedlyshybarbarian @emilyfarias16 @sageispunk @amyispxnk @lola8888673 @maryfanson @lu62 @ilovepedro @katw474 @softstarlite @titlee78 @aquanatalie @girlofchaos
Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap
#frankie morales x female reader#frankie morales x reader#triple frontier fanfiction#frankie morales#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie catfish morales#triple frontier#fic: let's get lost#frankie morales x you
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Update - 3rd year anniversary! (and some future plans, a reflection, etc.)
Hi everyone! π here.
By the time this post is up, it'll be the 13th of May. Three years since I began my writing journey and this Tumblr blog. Three years. Time flies by so fast. I was close to graduating senior high after it was delayed because pandemic, had my graduation in an empty room basically, now I'm hitting my third year of college. Crazy stuff.
With that said, here are the stats + timetable of the blog so far:
First work: Sandwich (Wendy) (published 05/13/21, 4:03 a.m)
Highest note count: Tell your friends (Yujin x Wonyoung) (published 01/14/23, 1274 notes)
Number of works published: 91 fics (1 fic every 12.03 days)
500 followers: June 18, 2021 (36 days)
1000 followers: October 12, 2021 (152 days)
2000 followers: June 18, 2022 (401 days)
3000 followers: November 12, 2022 (548 days)
4000 followers: May 22, 2023 (740 days)
5000 followers: December 18, 2023 (950 days)
Current follower count: 5615 (1 new follower every 5.12 days)
It's been a hectic final month of college, so I apologize for the lack of activity in recent times :< But summer is coming up very soon, so hopefully I'll have all the time in the world to write more till then! I will say, a new fic is on the near horizon, so please be on the lookout!
I would like to take the opportunity to thank every single of you, whether reader, lurker, or a fellow writer for your support! Especially during these lull times, your unwavering support has kept me afloat and has been a motivation in continuing to write. Love you guys as always. Here's to another fruitful year <3
From this point, this part will be an overall reflection and life summary of the previous year, my thoughts on some personal matters, and some ideas I've been contemplating. If you don't wanna read this, you can stop here.
I miss 2023 quite a bit, not gonna lie. I know nostalgia can quickly grow warm and fuzzy, seeing the past through rose tinted lens, but I'll admit that 2024 hasn't been off to the start I envisioned it to be. That year was mostly peak for me, and I could even argue it's my favorite year to live out based on all my experiences. Traveling to new places, finally attending live events, interacting with my K-pop biases, and so on—it really felt like the best was yet to come with how 2023 flowed and transitioned into the new year.
Five months in, and I am struggling. Horribly. Most plans, dreams, and ideas have gone up in smoke, and it's just one devastating gut punch after another. I have a shitty professor in one major that basically made me check out of that class, and I don't know my family will react when I tell them I have to repeat said class because that professor was a dick. My family's been infighting on a daily basis, and I'm mostly collateral damage to them. Not one week can go by without some serious confrontation between them. There was a brief health scare with my mother, but that seems to be a nothing matter; thank God she'll be okay.
All this just makes life so deflating, in all honesty. I get that no life is without struggle, but I genuinely don't know when we'll be in the clear. Not anytime soon, I reckon. In these tough times, there's very little comfort except the past, when everything was pretty all right for the most part. It's been demotivating to write when mom comes forward with another grievance with my sister. It's hard to write when you have a professor who likes to power trip their students into submission. It's hard when you don't know how to admit to your mother that he failed his one class because of said power tripping professor.
But that doesn't mean I will let it eat me alive. I know we've been through some utter lows in the past. And we always get back up. If no one has us, then God does.
Summer break is fast approaching and I want to fix things. Even in my own little way. I know none of what I'm saying has anything to do with writing degenerate stories about hot K-pop idols, but real life circumstances have definitely affected me more than I can brush off. I should be calm, unfazed, undeterred.
After all, some stories are meant to be finished. They just take a more unconventional route. Ask Cody.
With all that being said, I will finish these commissions over the next two months. I'm really sorry to everyone who requested and paid for their stories months and months ago; I genuinely feel bad for not getting these out on time, but I am very mindful of quality control, and I have no one to blame but myself for being a slacker and lazy worker. Despite my feelings, I should remain professional—that's what being a worker means.
A lifestyle overhaul is definitely in my list of things to improve over the summer too. Figuring out how to get writing done, finding ways to alleviate my PokeRogue addiction (GOTY), whilst having a healthy work/life balance and not losing my sanity over it. Or worse, burning out.
And I want to take this opportunity to thank all my friends—peach, caps, majorblinks, chunk, frisky, raf, c.o, levi, sins, iz, ken, v1n, ddeun, notions, kevin, eros, brandon, kaede, svn, frisky, cray, rpg, prael—for putting up with my shit for another year. This life is tough, but you guys make it tolerable. Thank you for letting me air out my grievances even when it wasn't the best time to. I pray that when everything passes, I'm able to repay you all in some shape or form generously.
And to you, dear reader, for making it this far, thank you. Whether you've been with me since day one, or day 1094, as a commenter, reposter, liking, or just passing by/lurking, thank you for giving me a chance. Without you, all of this would have been for nothing. I don't know where I would be now if I didn't take that chance, that leap of faith back in 2021, and it's because of you I am able to keep doing this for the love of the game.
With grace,
Peter / π
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DATING SONG MINGI PT.1:
⚫️summary; once again, first part to MINGI’s section in the new ATEEZ fics or requests i am taking. this one’s for my new friend @ateezatinyfan 🩷! this is basically what dating idol!mingi would be like as a famous person yourself. STREAM ATEEZ!! STREAM CRAZY FORM!! STREAM THE WHOLE DAMN ALBUM BECAUSE IT SLAPS!!
⚠️warnings; iNsAnE fLuFf, Mingi being Mingi (aka HOT & baby at the same time), smutty topics, swearing, idk tbh, whatever else is in here but if you’re not 18+ YOU SHOULDNT BE HERE ANYWAYS. STREAM CRAZY FORM!!
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-Dating THE BEST RAPPER OF 4th GEN KPOP, the King himself, S O N G M I N G I, the killa of ATEEZ, was something you never expected.
-He always needed attention, whether it be texting updates every 1-2 hours (sometimes even every half hour) because he just missed being around you? Or whether it be you ending up at his dorm & accidentally falling asleep.
-We’re getting ahead of ourselves here, let’s go back to the moment you met. At the yearly [insert award show name here] when you introduced them before their performance & he was insanely flustered going on stage until he remembered he had to put on his stage face & absolutely sent it.
-He had been a longtime Ideal Type for you so, your fans knew from the moment you were asked to announce, that you were super excited to announce ATEEZ as performers. What you didn’t know was that all of ATEEZ already knew who you were, were huge fans of your work & would constantly here updates about you from their little Princess Mingki.
-Mingi legit had NOTIFICATIONS on for your instagram, tiktok, twitter, vlive, etc.
-Yunho had reached out on his personal IG once to ask you to collab but, you didn’t know they had secret personal pages so you simply ignored it, being afraid of it being a bot.
-after ATEEZ gave their usual show stopping performance, you went back out to thank them & one by one they shook your hand & bowed in a sign of respect & acknowledgement of your admiration for them.
-Mingi, being last he held your hand softly & evidently gained a bit of courage since he had placed a soft kiss to your hand which just made the crowd erupt in applause.
-backstage he was being scolded by HongJoong for doing that without notifying you or anyone for that matter until you stepped in.
-“Ani! It’s okay! I found it very sweet. No need to scold him HongJoong Hyung.”
-“Ah! Y/N-ssi, I’m so sorry about that, I don’t know why I did it, I just saw you there & thought it was the perfect moment. I’m so sorry.” Mingi hurriedly apologized.
-You stopped him by kissing his already flustered cheek. A huge ear to ear smile forming on his face as you came down from your tippy toes & the rest of ATEEZ standing there in shock at the event unfolding in front of them.
-safe to say from then on, you exchanged numbers with all OT8 & had a group chat within a week of the award show.
-Mingi would ask you only days later to go on a date & you obviously agreed. He took you to the beach, you had an adorable candlelit picnic & then ended up going to the street market & meeting up with the boys for karaoke.
-after karaoke he drove you home & ended the night with an actual kiss after he had been embarrassed by his members exposing his attraction for you from a long time ago.
-on the drive back to your house you took hum the long way just to talk more & sat out in the car for another 2 hours just chatting & getting to know one another more.
-you were very similar but had keen differences that just made it even more perfect. you were an extrovert & he was obviously an introvert who became extroverted around those he felt most comfortable with, you liked things he didn’t & he respected that & the other way around. but what made him go in for that real first kiss was hearing how passionate & admirable you were about your job, how hard you fought to be in the place you were now & how you would do anything for the people you loved.
-he saw you as a completely different person from what he imagined, better even.
-& he simply blurted out his confession.
-“Well, even though you already heard it from the members, I wanted to say it myself. Yes I have liked you for a long time, how couldn’t I? You are so beautiful Y/N-ssi. So talented, so amazing & I would love to keep seeing you like this, no matter what comes our way. I feel so comfortable around you & I like it & when I like or believe in something I am honest about it.”
-you froze, it was all happening so fast but it didn’t feel wrong, it felt like it was going the way it was meant to go.
-so as he stood with your hands in his, admitting his attraction to you, you decided to do the same.
“Mingi-ssi. I completely agree. I appreciate you telling me yourself too & I want to admit my side as well. It feels right, whatever is going on between us & I have liked you as well for a while. My fans all hear it in interviews & such. You are always who I name as my Ideal Type & I constantly get told why don’t I tell you. Well, I guess I was just afraid of it being a schoolgirl crush. But now, talking to you openly & comfortably, I like you even more. I would love to keep seeing you like this & potentially more.”
-this boys eyes SHONE. you couldn’t tell if it was tears or sheer happiness in them but he was just so precious & handsome & caring how could you say no? plus you had to admit seeing him smile at you with such care made your heart almost burst out of your chest.
-you finally say your goodbyes, even though it was killing you both inside & he drives back to his dorm only for an hour or so later you see a notification on the group chat.
-‘TEEZERS & Y/N-SSI’
-it read “this is how your boyfriend came home.” with a video of him gushing about how perfect & how much better you were now than in his head or just from videos he had seen of you in the past. San sent it, teasing the both of you, which he loved.
-you saved the video & kept re reading the text. ‘boyfriend’ made you giddy. your Idol, your Ideal Type WAS yours. it was crazy how a simply little kiss on the hand had evolved into this.
-from then on, you two were inseparable, always in the news being captured together, or on Dispatch, Enews, etc.
-he constantly has flowers sent to your house to remind you he’s always thinking of you.
-has to ALWAYS have you close by.
-WILL fall asleep on you even if he is damn near 2X your size.
-is always gifting you small things that remind him of you or that he knows you like.
-leave his jackets & baggy shirts over at your place “by accident” but really on purpose because he loves seeing you post instagram stories wearing them.
-posts you on his ‘#FIXON_stagram’ posts but it’s mainly candida or cropped pics where your tattoos (if you have any, nails, shoes, silhouette, shadow, etc. Which both your fans LIVE for.
-you always end up meeting him & the boys at the studio, dorms, bars, or for dinner because the boys love you just as much but definitely not more than Mingi because he’d kill them.
-HongJoong & Yeosang being your closest members aside from Mingi but you loving them all equally.
-Mingi being the definition of “Golden Retriever Boyfriend” & you being his “Black Cat Girlfriend”.
-fans LOVING your relationship & how open & honest you both are in interviews & everything but how private you keep certain things as well.
-MINGI WRITING SONGS ABOUT YOU. YES, THE SONG MINGI, writing about you because he is so head over heels he is already planning baby names 6 months into the relationship.
-you meeting his family 1-2 months in because he just HAS to show you off to them.
-“Y/N-ssi! Mingi-ah has told us to much about you! Welcome come in please! You can call me Eomma Song, please sit, tell us about yourself.” with the biggest most warm smile on her cute little face. You see where Mingi gets his loving heart from.
-Mingis dad pulling him aside to tell him he picked a good one, which Mingi tells you later. (because he can’t hide ANYTHING from you… no literally, he asked you to check a cut on his big toe because he thought it was infected…)
-Eomma Song loving you & being a fan of you herself so much that she asks to take a picture with you so she can frame it. You gladly agree & laugh at Mingi’s 😲 face when he hears her already planning to frame your photo.
-“Eomma! You don’t have a photo with me or my members! I will get you one!” Everyone bursts into a fit of laughter at his subtly jealous remark but he is only joking.
-in conclusion for this part, dating this Princess is a full time job on top of your full time job BUT, you love him so much you can’t help but feel like you’re on cloud 9 anytime you’re with him just like he surely feels with you!
-he is YOUR Princess Mingki & your only.
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A/N; HOPEFULLY YOU GUYS ARE ENJOYING MY ATEEZ DRABBLES SO FAR! WE MADE IT TO 19.4MILLION VIEWS IN 24 HOURS FOR CRAZY FORM!! LETS KEEP STREAMING ATINY!! LETS MAKE OUR BOYS PROUD!!
#davinashifts333#ateez seonghwa#ateez jongho#ateez wooyoung#ateez yeosang#ateez san#ateez mingi#ateez imagines#ateez yunho#ateez fluff#ateez#ateez reactions#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#ateez fic#ateez hongjoong#ateez song mingi#song mingi#song mingi x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez x y/n#ateez x you#ateez x gender neutral reader
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trailer park AU schedule update
well first of all:
holy shit we made it!!! can’t believe November’s over already
secondly, i want to thank everyone who has read along up to this point. this story started as a 500 word drabble, and now it’s the longest fic i’ve ever written. like, i published over 30,000 words in just over a month thanks to y’all, when i’ve previously never managed to write more than 12k of a story without losing interest. that’s wild!! not to be a sappy little bisexual about it, but your constant encouragement and enthusiasm have been unbelievably motivating, and i’ve had so much fun reading all of your comments and theories along the way, and i love you very much and your hair looks really pretty.
thirdly, this fic isn’t going anywhere! i’m just as invested as y’all at this point lol. updates will slow down a bit going forward because writing publishable content 5-7 days a week is an absurd pace that i never intended to continue beyond november, but i plan to keep writing until the story’s done. expect updates to be more like 3-4 times/week from here on out.
if you still want to follow along in real time, you can:
turn on blog notifications for me
follow the tag #trailer park steve au
join the tag list (if you’re over 21)
and if you prefer to read along as chapters come out, you can subscribe to the story on ao3
thank you all again 🩷 this has been the best not-really-nanowrimo of my whole life, and i’ve been doing this event since i was 16. kissing u real gently on the forehead etc.
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Free Fall
Summary: Tony Stark arranges for an Avengers Teambuilding Day at a local amusement park. Loki had been hoping to avoid it -- he's had enough thrills to last a lifetime, he has no desire to seek out more -- but you and your endearing enthusiasm for roller coasters convince him to come along. However, the free fall drop tower you start out with turns out to be a bit more thrilling than he bargained for.
Word Count: 3,482
Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader
A/N: Drags self out of the grave and awkwardly waves
So it's been a minute since I posted lol. Those of you who follow may be aware that I recently graduated from college with the Final Semester From Hell that involved my computer hard drive dying on me in class and causing me to lose not only forty pages of my honors thesis two weeks before it was due, but also almost every WIP I had been working on in the past four years because I am an idiot who chronically forgets to back things up :D I did make it through college, but between stress, burnout, depression, and the death of any motivation to work on anything because of having to restart from the beginning for all of my projects, I went a while without writing anything. But I'm slowly getting back into it -- I have several projects in the works and I'm hoping to get back to posting more regularly. This fic was a short piece that I had started prior to the computer death that I had a lot of physical notes on so they weren't lost when my hard drive decided to yeet itself into the sun. I'm not entirely happy with it, but honestly it feels so good to finally finish something that I don't care.
Anyways, sorry for the obnoxious A/N. Thank you so much for reading!
Warnings: PTSD, flashbacks, panic attack, a bit of motion sickness?
Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod @naterson
If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :) (I also realize that this taglist is Old so if I need to update it please let me know)
Read it on Ao3!
Standing in the shadow of the great tower, heart thudding in his throat, Loki is suddenly aware that he’s made an enormous mistake.
Next to him, Stark whistles. “This is what you usually start with?”
You grin up at the spire, a massive construction of electric green cutting through the cloudless sky. Two elevators, one on either side, are creeping slowly up the length of the tower. They linger at the top for just a moment before plunging back down to Earth, their occupants screaming. Loki feels ill just watching, but you’re practically vibrating in place. “It’s good to get the blood pumping.”
He can’t bring himself to look at you.
It’s your fault that he’s here. Loki hadn’t planned to come today at all. A day spent outside in the sweltering summer sun, following Stark’s gaggle of misfits onto various machines designed to fling mortals from side to side to simulate the feeling of a near death experience? Loki couldn’t imagine anything more torturous. Thor’s begging and cajoling received nothing in response. No, he hadn’t the slightest intention of coming today, not until last night, when he came across you restocking the main refrigerator.
“Are you excited for tomorrow?” you had asked as you arranged rows of Red Bull on the top shelf. “I can’t wait to take you guys around Rapid Rails—I’ve been begging Mr. Stark to do a teambuilding day there ever since he hired me.”
Your eagerness caught him off guard— as Stark’s personal assistant, you had been present at all of his godforsaken teambuilding events, but Loki had never known you to be particularly excited about any of them. “I … I wasn’t aware you had such an attachment to it.”
“Oh yeah—I grew up just down the street from there!” You beamed at him, breaking down the cardboard box you had used to carry the cans. “We used to have season passes – they were way cheaper when I was a kid – and we’d just go there to hang out all the time. Gosh it was so fun. And now I get to go for work!” You let out a merry laugh. “I guess some things never change, right?”
Loki huffed a soft chuckle. He had never seen you like this before, practically bubbling over in excitement. It was … rather endearing. “I suppose not.”
“You are coming, right? Thor said you hadn’t made up your mind yet.”
Were the circumstances different, Loki might have scoffed. Hadn’t made up your mind yet—Norns, his brother lived in denial. Instead though, he hesitated. “I … I’m afraid I hadn’t planned on it.”
“Really?” The way your face fell actually hurt his chest. “Why not?”
“I—” He glanced away, pressing his lips together. “I’m not sure I’m one for your roller coasters,” he said, finally. “You’d likely have a better time without me there.” It was an attempt at lightheartedness, but you only seemed more disappointed.
“Oh, that’s not true at all! I was really looking forward to—” you stopped suddenly, and when Loki looked up again, you were biting your lip with a nervous laugh. “I mean, it would be really fun if you came with us. But it’s okay if you don’t want to.”
“I suppose I could come, if you so desire.” He hoped he sounded nonchalantly cool, and that you couldn’t see the way his heart fluttered at the idea that you might want him there. “I wouldn’t wish to let you down.”
“Oh, I mean—” You looked away, the light from the refrigerator silhouetting your frame. “I don’t want to force you, if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t do it just for me.”
“No, I …” He inhaled, then smiled. “I think I would like to join you.”
And so here he is, at the base of this great metal monstrosity, intently studying the sign outside of the line entrance to avoid Thor’s knowing smirk. His brother has never worn self-satisfaction well.
DEATH DROP: THE TALLEST AND FASTEST DROP TOWER ON THE EAST COAST
The description is illustrated with a photograph of two people strapped to their seats, mouths wide in mid-scream as their hair flies every which way. Loki lets out a shaky exhale as he reads. The tower, it claims, is 400 feet tall. It reaches top speeds of 85 miles per hour. The ride itself lasts about 90 seconds in total. The measuring stand besides the entrance indicates that participants must be at least 48 inches tall.
400 feet. That doesn’t sound too terrible, he tells himself. The concept of a foot as a unit of measurement is still something he struggles to wrap his head around, but he knows that Stark Tower stands at over a thousand. So that’s not too bad. 400 feet would be a drop in the bucket, really, compared to …
No. He pushes the thought down, back into the dark recesses of his memory. None of that. Not today.
Stark smirks at him. “You’re looking green, Tommy Wiseau.”
Loki swallows, straining to maintain his stiff mask of composure. It’s bad enough to have Stark reveling in his discomfort, but now you’re looking over at him too, brow furrowed in concern, and he wishes he could melt away on the spot. “I’m quite fine.”
“Of course he is!” Thor booms, slapping his shoulder with a hearty thwack that does nothing for Loki’s stomach. “We’ve fallen from much higher heights, haven’t we, brother?”
Weightless. Breathless. Engulfed by inky nothingness, the air so thin he can’t even scream —
Loki’s smile hurts. “Yes, very true.”
“You don’t have to go, Loki,” you interject. “It’s totally okay— I have friends who love roller coasters and refuse to touch this ride. It’s a lot.”
He knows you mean it as reassurance, but he can’t stand the way you’re looking at him, as if he were a frightened child, too fragile to be brought along. Are you regretting having convinced him to change his mind? Do you feel that he’s only holding you back? Somehow, the idea that you no longer want him here is almost as sickening as the thought of the fall.
Loki huffs a breath. No. He will prove himself worthy of your coaster. “I assure you, I am fine.” His voice is more strained than he’d prefer it to be. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”
…
The attendant seems rather starstruck as he ushers the group onto the ride—he stumbles and stammers through the explanation of the seating arrangements and the harness. Loki’s not really listening as he follows you to the left side of the cart, trying not to ignore the buzzing that seems to be settling behind his ears.
You smile up at him. “Would you rather sit on the side or in the middle?”
He frowns. “Does it make a difference?”
“Well, personally I don’t think so, but I know some people who get scared of heights think it’s easier to sit in the middle.”
“I’m not scared of heights.” The words come out far too quickly to sound believable, and he curses inwardly at himself. “I can sit on the side.”
“Are you sure?” You eye him uncertainly. “It’s okay if you—"
“I’m quite capable of managing such a seat.” He sits before you have the chance to question him again.
The seat is rather tight—Loki wonders if that’s intentional, or if it’s simply built with a smaller frame in mind. In the cart off to the right, he can hear Thor fumbling about with the attendant, and he chuckles despite himself. If he’s finding it to be a bit of a squeeze, he can’t imagine the troubles his bulky brother must be having.
It’s a momentary reprieve from his darker thoughts, and Loki is actually smiling when you warn him to sit back against the seat.
“The harness is going to be coming down soon.”
“What?”
You motion to the contraption above the cart, two plastic green masses shaped like upside down u’s that hover above your heads like the top of a clam shell. “It sits over you and keeps you from flying out of the cart.” You let out a small laugh. “It’s like the harnesses on the Quinjets, but way less cool. They also have little handles that you can hold on to if you want.”
Loki is eyeing the harnesses uncertainly. “What do you mean they’ll be coming down soon?”
“You used to have to pull it down yourself, but they have it all programmed now.” A great mechanical creak cracks through the air, and you press yourself against the back of the seat. “Oh, here it comes now!”
He frowns, mimicking your movement to sit as far back as he can. The green restraint descends slowly over his head, with a metallic groan that does not give him much faith in the construction of this monstrosity. He expects it to stop once it was hovering over his torso, but it continues until it’s pressed snuggly against his chest, pinning him to the seat. The attendant is saying something over the intercom, but Loki barely registers it over the feeling of the restraint. It’s … it’s not a painful sensation, but the firmness with which it holds … he’s been restrained before. Little flames of memory spark in the corners of his mind, flames he can’t seem to douse no matter how hard he tries.
Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.
He gives an apprehensive tug on the metal handles that now rest on either shoulder, a tug which quickly turns into a hard yank. The harness does not move. His mouth has gone dry.
“Loki?” you’re frowning at him, your head only barely visible through your own harness. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
You’re not bothered by the restraint. Of course you aren’t—how many times did you say you’ve ridden this ride? It’s fine. It’s fine. Goodness, what must you think of him, seeing him panic over the safety harness that you’ve worn hundreds of times before for fun? He nods his head, shaking away the feelings and memories and emotions and all the other thoughts that he wishes he could just wash down the drain …
“Are you sure—?”
“Perfectly,” he spits, but it comes out more snappishly than he intended, and you recoil with a look on your face that makes him despise himself.
I shouldn’t be allowed to speak.
“And enjoy your ride!” the attendant finishes with a flourish, and the thick metal cranking is all the warning you get before the cart begins to lift off from the ground. Loki’s heart jumps to his throat, pounding so fast he can’t make out the separate beats.
“This part is the scariest bit,” you yell at him over the grinding of machinery. “The anticipation kills me!”
Loki inhales. The elevator continues to rise, inching up slowly along the spire, the ground beneath their feet melting into miniature. This is alright, he tells himself. If this is the worst part of the experience, then he’ll be just fine. There’s nothing particularly frightening about it—he spoke the truth when he told you that he had never been bothered by heights. It’s all perfectly fine.
Perfectly. Fine.
Norns, they’re still going up. He risks a glance at the track above him—surely they must be close now? The movement makes him queasy, and he quickly turns back to face straight ahead. His knuckles are white from clutching the handles. The harness is digging into his chest and it takes all of his self-control not to rip it off. The elevator stutters—is this it? His breath catches, but no, they’re still going up. They seem to be slowing down though, don’t they? Or is that only his imagination?
I’m going to be ill.
They’ve stopped. That’s not in his head. Everything seems frozen in place. Why did he agree to do this? Loki presses his eyes closed. Any moment now. Any moment …
Still nothing.
His chest aches. He may have forgotten to breathe. Why have they stopped? Is something wrong? Loki turns to you—you look ecstatic, eyes crinkled with elation, mouth wide in an open grin.
“When is it going to—”
You drop.
The world goes silent. He feels it, that awful sensation in his stomach as the line goes slack and colors rush before his eyes in a blur until it all fades to darkness, airlessness, weightlessness, his lungs burning and drowning on the empty void of space—he’s falling, he’s falling again, he’s falling again oh please Norns not again—
There’s ground beneath his feet. He’s not sure where it came from. His knuckles ache. You’re talking – to him? He’s not sure, he only barely can make out your voice …
“Loki? The harness is coming up. Can you let go?”
He’s still clinging to the handles. Can he let go? He’s not sure. His body feels like lead. He pries his fingers from the metal tube and the pressure against his chest vanishes with a woosh over his head.
“There you go.” Your voice is soft, encouraging, closer than he remembered. He looks up to find you kneeling on the ground before him. You flash a nervous smile. “You alright?”
He’s not sure what to say. His instinct is to apologize, insist that yes, of course, he’s quite alright, he didn’t mean to give any impression to the contrary, everything is fine, but the words catch in his throat.
stars melting together smothering his last breath
Loki lets out a shuddering breath, settles for a nod.
“What’s the hold-up?” Stark calls out. “Barton and Romanov are waiting with the kids on the other side of the park.”
“We’re just taking a break for a minute!” Your reply is hurried. “You guys can go on, we’ll meet you there.”
“Is something wrong?” Thor sounds concerned, and—oh great—now both him and Stark are walking over to their cart. “Loki? What happened?”
“I—” But words, so often his steadfast ally, seem to be failing him right now. What happened? He has no answer; at least, none that his brother would accept. For nothing had happened, not really, and yet that was enough to send him spiraling through the fabric of reality.
He hates this. He hates feeling so weak.
Stark is chuckling. “If I knew that this was all it took to shut him up, I would have rented this place out sooner—”
Enough.
Loki forces himself to stand – far too quickly, his stomach churns at the movement, but he swallows the bile in his throat. He needs to get away. It doesn’t matter how, but he needs to not be with them. Besides him, you scramble to your feet too.
“I’m well.” His voice doesn’t sound right—it feels foreign, and thick like syrup, nothing like his own. “You may go on without me.”
“Are you certain?” Thor is frowning. “We can wait—”
Please don’t.
“I’m certain. I just need to sit for a moment.”
“There’s a bench nearby!” You’ve taken on the same cheery inflection typical of your working voice, and it adds a sense of normalcy to a distinctly abnormal situation. He’s grateful for it. “I can show you where!”
Both Stark and his brother seem reluctant to leave, but you insist that it’s fine. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”
He feels slightly steadier as he follows you to the bench—it’s just a wooden thing on the side of the concrete path, across from what appears to be a diner of some sort. You mumble something about going to get water. It’s a relief when you turn away, so you don’t see how he collapses against the seat.
There’s ground beneath his feet. Loki closes his eyes, focuses on that. There’s ground beneath my feet. The asphalt is firm, hot with the summer sun, anchoring him to reality. He lets out a breath. It feels safe.
Unless, of course, it crumbles beneath your step and flings you back into the abyss –
“Hey.” He jerks up at the sound of your voice, and the suddenness causes you to jump as well. You shift apologetically, standing in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Loki swallows. How did he not hear you come up? “You didn’t.” Although it must be obvious that you did. At least you’re kind enough to allow him the lie.
You offer him a plastic cup. It’s a flimsy thing, but quite cold, relieving against his feverish skin. He takes it with a mumbled thanks, pretending he doesn’t notice how you’re studying him with a quiet sort of concern.
“Are you feeling better?” you ask after a moment.
Loki bites down on the inside of his cheek, relishing the way it stings. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s just – I mean – ” you glance down, tugging at your shirt sleeve. “I get panic attacks too.”
“I don’t—” But he stops himself, stops the urge to argue. Gives a gentle nod instead. “I’m well, thank you. I just … I need a moment to catch my breath.”
“I’m sorry …” You look away guiltily. “Death Drop is kind of a lot – we shouldn’t have done that first.”
“It’s not that. I –” He wants to explain to you. He wants you to know that he’s not usually like this—he never used to be like this, he’s strong and steady and perfectly capable of anything you could ask of him, but his voice is failing once again. Loki huffs a sigh. “You ought to go on with the others. I don’t wish to ruin your day.”
“Oh, you haven’t ruined anything. I’ve been on every ride in this park about a million times. It’s fine!” Your voice is bubbly and light as you sit down next to him on the bench. There’s something oddly comforting about the sound. “Besides, it’s bad etiquette to leave a friend by themselves at an amusement park. Buddy system and all that.”
A friend. He can only stare at you.
You falter. “Unless … unless you’d rather I left?”
“No—” Loki surprises himself with how quickly he answers. “No, I’d rather you didn’t.”
Several minutes pass in silence, the frantic beating of his heart slowly tapering off into something softer as he drinks in your presence. He’s grateful for it, grateful for how you let him soak in the quiet. Thor would never have allowed him such a moment’s peace.
He’s considering asking if you’re sure you don’t want to go on any other coasters (he feels guilty for keeping you here—perhaps he can accompany you through the queue and wait on the ground?) when you suddenly sit up stock-straight. “Oh!”
Loki frowns. “Is something wrong?”
You turn to him with a wide grin. “I just remembered they have Dole Whip here!”
“They—what kind of whip?” What sort of ride would a whip be, he wonders? A human sized slingshot, perhaps? His stomach lurches at the thought.
Luckily though, he’s proved wrong. “Dole Whip!” you giggle. “It’s like ice cream, but fruit flavored. Like there’s pineapple and strawberry and whatnot—it’s like soft serve.” You look at him with a kind of hopeful excitement. “Do you want to try some?”
Loki hums. He has yet to try soft serve ice cream, but he knows his brother practically swears by the stuff. “Is it good?”
“Supposedly. I’ve actually never tried it— we never wanted to spend money on park food when we would come as kids. It’s stupid expensive.” You smirk. “But today’s all on Mr. Stark’s dime, so…”
He chuckles. “And you would take advantage of your employer in such a fashion? I didn’t realize I had such a Machiavellian on my hands.”
“Hey, I’m just taking advantage of the opportunities presented to me!” You stand with a grin, holding your hands up in a mock surrender pose. “You can’t blame me for that, can you?”
“Oh, I’d never,” he teases as he stands, and he’s relieved to find that his legs have regained their steadiness. “I’d be honored to experience this Dole Whip with you on Stark’s expense.”
“Fantastic,” you beam. “It’s not too far from here. And it’s right next to a bunch of these little shops—they have this ridiculous giant sea monster toy that costs like $300, I can show you—”
You continue on as the both of you walk down the path, telling him all about the park’s various hidden gems and the inside jokes you and your friends have concocted around them, and Loki finds himself laughing more than not—he can’t help it, your giggles are just too infectious.
Huh. Perhaps joining you today wasn’t a mistake after all.
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Mi Vida
pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader
summary: reader and Javier are coworkers that typically hate each other, but find each other helpful in relieving that stress
rating: 18+ (no minors please)
word count:3.6k
warnings etc: smut, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, pet names, oral, female recieving, established relationship. NO USE OF Y/N.
A/N: I finished Narcos last week :( and I know that Murphy isn’t in the last season but I have him here because I feel like it. Loosely based on some of the events in Season 3, but barely. Anyways! This is the final part of the Mi Luz fic. Thank you for sticking around for my first one. Writing will hopefully improve as time goes on :)
3 months after Mi Cielo
Seeing him at work was different from his apartment. Both were stressed out Javier, but one was colder to you and one was loving, inviting, and warm. Sometimes you thought he was angry with you, even though it had been clarified on more than one occasion he was trying to separate the two of you at work so as to “not embarrass you.” Had you really asked for that so often that he repeated it back?
Maybe at first you were embarrassed-you didn’t want anyone to know about your relationship with him because you thought it would backfire. But now you wished for a little more attention. It had almost been a year since you two started your weekly get-together, and Susan and Amy had let you know that after that night in the bar, they could see how he cared for you.
You brought a file up to Murphy after he called you while heading back from his most recent trip out, now staring at the back of Javier’s head while Murphy flipped through the file. If Murphy was asking you a question you missed it, the back of Javier’s neck was too interesting to not focus on. He looked tense, head buried in the paperwork in front of him and going through files you had given him days before that he never returned.
You used to get on him about not giving back files, but you knew this was important. He had mentioned at his place over the weekend that he was trying to track one of the connections' wives down from the Cali cartel, and you encouraged him to keep the papers until he figured it out. He had momentum and you weren’t going to break it.
“Thanks for this, but I don’t think it is what I need.” Murphy’s voice took you out of your trance, eyeing you and glancing at Peña. He had never said, but you were positive that he knew about your relationship with Peña too. They were friends and sometimes your weekends were cut short so that Javier could go to Steve’s like he used to.
You smiled, bringing your eyes back to Murphy. “Okay, do you want me to look in one of the older files? This was the most recent intel from a few months ago.”
Murphy shook his head and sighed. “No, I’ll come down and take a look in a few hours. Gotta update the boss first.” He stood up, glancing one more time between you and Javier, smiling in a way that said “he’s upset right now, best to leave him alone”.
You nodded, holding the file tight to your chest as you walked back to the hallway that led to your archives room. He would tell you if he needed you.
A few hours later, sitting at your desk and taking notes, you glanced up to find Javier standing in the doorway watching you. He looked tired but smirked and stepped into the room. “I’ve been here for a few minutes and you didn’t notice.”
“Sorry, I was taking down some information that was left by one of the girls. Do you need something?” You felt breathless, hoping he would close the door and ask something personal like he would in your bed. He had been so careful the past few months that there really was a separation that you had asked for initially.
“I’m here in place of Murphy. He asked me to grab the files you two talked about earlier?” He looked around the room, not avoiding you but not intent on keeping your focus. He was distracted, thinking about how the rest of his weekend would go.
“Oh, right. Let me just see here.” You stood, tapping the table lightly with your fingers as you thought about where the older files were. You moved your ladder over, taking a step up and reaching for a smaller box.
The door shut behind Peña and he lowered his voice. “I’m uh-I have to take care of work tonight. I have to bring that asshole's wife back to Miami so he will talk to us and I am going to be gone for a few days.” He was nervous, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and glancing up at you. “I’m sorry I am telling you here but I didn’t want to just go and not tell you and I don’t think I will have time to see you before.”
You looked at him, stepping down from the ladder and smiling. “That’s okay Javi, I understand.”
He felt the breath leave him quickly, and he reached out to your desk for support. Did you call him Javi? At work? He had been so careful, keeping his distance from your archives and keeping the door open when he had to see you. He wanted to see you more but knew you didn’t want to jeopardize anything. “Maybe you can go out with Susan and Amy or something and I’ll give you the key to my place?” He whispered, feeling like the offer was the right move. Have fun with your friends but come back to me even if I am not there.
You chuckled, shuffling through the file box.” I don’t think so, you know what happened last time.” You hadn’t gone out since that night, explaining as vaguely as possible to Susan and Amy what happened. They never asked you again, rather having a girl’s night in or gossip session at your place.
Pena smirked, hiding his irritation at never finding Roberto (he was a DEA agent for Christ’s sake and he couldn’t track down one asshole?) “The sex after you scared me half to death was worth it.”
You laughed, glancing behind him to the doorway that was currently closed. “I might go out, but just to be with the girls, not to drink. I know where you keep your key, maybe I’ll do a load of dishes for you.” You felt yourself heat up as you spoke, embarrassed that you were willing to do domestic things for him while he wasn’t there.
A full smile plastered on his face, and a light chuckle breathed out. “That is very nice of you mi luz,” He said, looking at the shoes you were wearing today and back up to your face. You were likely going to be walking today. “I’ll be back on Saturday, hopefully before lunch. Will I find you in my bed or should I go to yours?”
It was like he was purring, and it made you squirm. “If you want me to stay at yours to watch your apartment, then I can.”
“That’s not why I want you there, but if that is what will get you there then I’ll take it.” He laughed, grabbing the handle to the door and swinging it open. “I’ll call you.” He winked, glancing out into the hallway and seeing it was clear before running back into the room and grabbing your face. You seemed more relaxed recently, and was willing to risk your fury for a kiss. “Just a quick one, cielo.”
He pecked your lips twice, then kissed you for a little longer on the last one before running away, file in hand for Murphy and chuckling at how your eyes were the size of saucers. You cleared your throat, feeling blood rush to your face as you busied yourself at your desk. Once he was clear of the hallway, footsteps no longer heard, you reached into your second drawer and pulled out the “Spanish to English” translation book that Javier got you as a joke a couple months ago, thumbing through to the dog-eared pages to find the words.
Mi luz: My light
Mi cielo: My heaven
Instead of going out, you headed straight for Peña’s place, knowing he had a couple movies you could watch while doing some dishes that you had left at his place a couple nights ago. There was no way he had cleaned it up since he was so busy with this most recent issue.
It didn’t take long for you to do dishes, and you figured that his couch was more comfortable than yours so you sat down to finish the movie you had put in when you first got there. Just as you sat down his home phone rang, making you glance at its spot on the kitchen wall. Was it smart to answer his phone? What if it was his family and a girl was answering and he didn’t want them to know? He did say he would call…
You were caught in your thoughts for so long that the ringing stopped, and you thought you were in the clear until it rang again. Sighing, you stood up and hesitantly picked it up. “Hello?”
“Cariño-it 's me.” Javi sounded out of breath, struggling even, on the other end of the line.
“What’s wrong?” You wrapped your fingers around the cord, nervously looking up toward the door.
“I-well. I need to hear your voice. I wasn’t sure if you would be there yet but you didn’t answer your phone after the fourth ring…I'm going to be home later tonight.” He still sounded out of breath, trying to act normal.
“What happened?” you pushed. “Javi you sound like you just ran a mile, why aren’t you on a plane?”
“I fucked up baby, and now I don’t need to go to Miami. Are you staying at my place? Will you be there when I get there?”
You nodded your head, reaching out to the counter to support yourself. “Yes, Javi, I'll be here. Do you want me to stay awake? Can I do anything right now?”
He was trying to not panic through the phone, but the relief he felt that you were on the other end of the line calmed him enough to quiet his voice in the airport bathroom. “Just-fuck. I fucking lo– I’ll be back before you’re asleep I think. I’ll bring food-”
“No, honey I’ll have food ready for you. Is everything okay? Really I need you to answer me.” You were scared. He had never done this before and the way he was talking through the phone made your concern increase. There had been plenty of weekends where he had to travel to find a cartel in a jungle or to fly to the States, but he always returned and would call you to visit him on Sunday night, wanting just a minute with you. You overlooked how you called him honey.
He didn’t miss it, and it made him take another breath. “Everything is okay, I just don’t know how much longer I can do this.” He felt small admitting this on the phone to you. “I’m heading your way soon. There’s cash in the drawer next to the silverware to order takeout if you want hermosa. I’ll see you soon.”
You had changed out of your clothes, running home and grabbing a bag and running back, convinced you would miss him and that he would worry. You both ended up living very close together, but if you walked at your leisure it would have taken 30 minutes one way. Breathless, you started cooking something easy so that there would be leftovers for him but so that you could eat something while you waited for his return. You were still jittery, nervous about what he meant by not knowing how much longer he could do this.
You were halfway through putting cheese on some bread to pop in the oven when you heard him slide his keys into the lock of his front door. You looked around the corner of the wall from the island, seeing his shoulders come into view as he threw his keys on the coffee table, locking the door behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with you and you saw it-the worry in between his eyebrows, the tilt of his eyes. “What happened, Javi?”
He deflated, ripping his jacket off and into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and setting you on the counter. His head was hidden in your shoulder as he breathed deeply, working up the courage to tell you of his failure. “I was supposed to bring her to Miami to see her husband, but he’s dead. He was killed as we were getting on the plane.”
You paused, bringing your hands up to the nape of his neck and doing your best to soothe him. He pushed further into you, his breath catching. “That isn’t your fault.”
He let out a gust of air, tears coming to his eyes as he gripped your hips tighter. “Everything goes wrong all the time and I don’t think I can keep doing this.” He clutched to you, willing you to understand. How could he keep being at the root of all this chaos?
You pet the back of his head, rubbing in between his shoulders and quietly cooing at him as he continued to cry. “It’s okay Javi, we can just relax tonight. I have food–”
“It isn’t okay!” He exclaimed, bringing his eyes to yours and grabbing at your face to make you look at him. “I’ve hurt so many people in the process of catching these assholes in a country that doesn’t even give a shit–”
“Listen to me.” You grabbed his arms, stopping him in his tracks. His eyes were already swollen and red-rimmed with tears. “You can do what you want about leaving, but don’t think for a second that this is your fault. One way or another people were going to get hurt, whether or not you were in the position you are in now. You have done what you can to do what needs to be done and if you need to remove yourself from all of this then you’re allowed to do that.”
He watched you speak, waited for you to finish, and sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. He couldn’t believe that you were here for him right now, soothing him, cooking for him. He saw your bag that was in the hallway when he first arrived and he hoped you weren’t planning on leaving-he couldn’t be alone. “Okay.” I love you. “You’re right, we should just relax. Why didn’t you order takeout?” Thank you for cooking for me. “I told you where the money was.” Don’t leave me.
You smiled, patting his shoulder. “I thought pasta would be easier.”
He leaned back, glancing down at your lips and giving you a quick peck. “Will it be okay to leave it unattended for a minute?” He asked, fingers dancing along your hips and pushing the shirt you were wearing up. “I have an appetizer in mind.”
You let out a giggle, spreading your legs more and leaning back on your hands. “Let me set the timer for the bread and see if we can beat it?” You knew this was a distraction, and all you wanted was to make him happy.
He smiled, pulling at his tie and kicking off his shoes. “Better hurry cariño, I’ll start without you.” He disappeared into his bedroom, taking off his shirt first and hearing you laughing as you reached for his timer. Hearing your laugh made him smile, his hands coming to the button of his jeans as you walked into the room. He grabbed at you, growling playfully to hear you giggle again and falling onto the bed with you in a heated kiss.
His movements were frantic, reaching into your shorts and finding you already wet for him. “Mi luz you’re already drenched. All for me?”
His breath was heavy on your neck, your hands finding purchase in his hair and messing up his gelled waves. You flipped back to the same page in that translation book in your head and smiled. “For you, always.”
He groaned, ready to sob at the thought that you were only his. He could always admit to you his feelings when he was buried inside you, but were you able to do the same? His hands retreated, grabbing at the waistband and helping you shimmy out of the shorts and underwear, spreading your legs and inhaling deeply.
Your legs tingled as he grabbed at them, spreading you apart and making eye contact with you as he leaned down with the tip of his tongue, connecting with your clit. With barely any pressure, he circled it, keeping your attention as he squeezed your inner thighs.
He groaned, closing his eyes as his tongue dipped down to your entrance and in, reaching inside you and back out, spreading your wetness. He did this over and over again, silently listening to you whimper and feeling you squirm as his beard and mustache got wet. He turned his head and kissed each thigh, letting you feel how wet you were, his facial hair dragging on your skin. Your legs shook with need, reaching down and grabbing at the top of his head making him smirk. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes-please keep going.” You were quick to respond, pulling his head closer to you and watching his tongue reach back out to your clit. You didn’t notice his hand slide up your thigh as he moved two fingers around where you made a mess, sinking them into you and holding you open for him.
“Have a timer we have to beat don’t we?” He mumbled, suddenly sucking your bud into his mouth and smirking at how you jumped.
“Maybe 15 minutes left on the clock.” You whispered, leaning your head back and sighing deeply.
“Plenty of time, baby.” He groaned into you, pulling you closer to him as you started to squirm away, fingers rhythmically pushing into you, looking up to see your throat exposed, blush creeping up slowly as your breathing increased. “I think we will even have time to spare won’t we?”
“Y-yes.” You looked back down at him, brown eyes already on you and tilting up in a smile and you felt a rush of confidence. “You look amazing like this, mi vida.”
Javier felt his world stop, watching the smirk grow on your face into a smile and then into a whimper, biting your bottom lip as you grew anxious with the continued pumping of his fingers. He pulled away, face messy with your wetness, and paused his fingers still inside you. “What did you say?”
You hesitated, wanting to laugh at how shocked he was but also suddenly nervous. Did you say it wrong? “Uh, mi vida? Is that the right-”
“I’m your soul?” He choked, feeling tears come to his eyes again. When did he become such a crybaby? “Do you mean that?”
Your eyes softened, looking down at his hand still inside you, and pushed your hips down further onto them. “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Javi. Do you say things you mean?”
He couldn’t speak, just staring at you as you unintentionally bucked your hips and whined, watching your eyes race between his own and his hand. “I mean every word I say to you.” He groaned, pulling his fingers out of you even though you sighed in protest, leaning up to be at eye level with you. “You’ve been reading that book, haven’t you?”
You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and widening your legs for him to slot between them. “I have pages marked so I can refresh my memory when you say something.”
He leaned forward to kiss you, pausing as you let him explore your mouth, cradling your face in his hand. He hiked your legs up around his waist, pulling back to watch your face as he sunk into you. “So you know then-” he groaned, holding your hip still as he started a slow rhythm. “You know that you’re the light in my life?” He pushed hard into you, wanting to hear your breath catch for a moment. “That you’re my everything?”
You smiled, loving the feeling of him inside you. You felt your throat catch when you went to respond, instead moaning and reaching up and grabbing what hair you could at the nape of his neck.
“Answer me.” He demanded, picking up speed at the pull of your fingers in his hair, wanting to feel you pull harder.
“Yes.” Absolutely breathless. “You’re my everything too, Javi.”
He closed his eyes, feeling like he was losing his mind. He continued to pump into you, leaning himself back to watch as he disappeared into you again and again. “You look absolutely filthy like this baby. You take me so well, such a good girl. Mine, aren’t you?”
You preened, nodding at his question and grabbing onto his arms for support as you felt your release begin. You couldn’t control yourself around him anymore, always enjoying your time with him and then losing yourself before you even had a chance to pull in the reins. He enjoyed watching you lose control, vaguely hearing the timer in the kitchen as you cried out. He was close too, falling over the edge after watching you in bliss, stuttering his thrusts inside of you.
When you both caught your breath, he stood on wobbly legs, laughing and running to the kitchen to turn off the oven and stovetop. When he returned, half soft and hair a mess, he watched as you sat up, eyes glazed over in relaxation. You smiled at him, reaching out your hand for him to join you.
He sat next to you, leaning into your neck to kiss you lightly. “I can’t stay with the DEA but I want to stay with you.” He swallowed roughly, feeling that he needed to explain more but wanted you to already know.
You looked at him, tilting your head and sighing. “Then leave the DEA. You’ll still have me-I’ll be here.” You knew. He was at the end of his rope with this job, and you would be there to support him.
He chuckled, reaching for his shirt on the floor. “Well mi luz, then you’re stuck with me.”
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