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heaven4lostgirls · 5 months

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promises and dreams

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warning: angst, mentions of throwing up and blood, canon typical death and violence included!

summary: finnick odair is your best friend, but somehow you cant find it within yourself to be aanything more. Now that the 75th Hunger Games calls for Victors to be reaped you make it your plan to bring Finnick back home to Annie or you will die trying

word count: 1.3k

a/n: sorry ive been gone for so long! i have just finished uni so i am working on getting some more content out as soon as i can! have this to tide you over in the mean time but i can't wait to get back to posting! part 2?

part 1, part 2, part 3

You were sitting in the victors village of district 4 as you turned on the television to listen to the reaping news for the 75th Hunger Games. Your glass on the table in front of you was filled with amber liquid to quell the anxiety you felt as you hear Snow’s grating voice flood your home. Your hands are shaking as you’re forced to relive the memories of your own hunger games, which you had won at only 16.

The victors that came after you were mentored by either you, or Finnick Odair, the Capitol’s prince. You had a harder time disassociating from being a mentor when your tributes were in the games, Finnick always seemed so determined to get them sponsors and help them in any way he could but for you, it was almost as worse as being in the games yourself.

Finnick and you had always been close, only drifting apart when his womanly companions found it necessary, he spend more time with them rather than you. You couldn’t blame them, if Finnick was yours you too would probably be uncomfortable but that never meant it hurt any less to see your best friend discard you as though you were nothing.

The only person you could never find it in yourself to dislike was ironically the only one of his partner’s that never dismissed you, Annie Cresta. She was the epitome of beauty to you, there was no question about why Finnick fell in love with her. She had been dealt just as bad of a hand in her own games and the both of you had found solace in one another. She could not have been a better fit for Finnick and although your heart felt as though it was shattering each time you were forced to watch him look at her the way you longed, he would look at you, you stayed strong.

That was how you found a paternal comfort in Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss Everdeen’s mentor, he was one of the only people who understood how easy it was for you to turn to drinking in favour of trying to find your tributes sponsors because of your own trauma. He knew just as well as you did just how hard your games were for you; you had fought tooth and nail to make it back to your family only for them to turn you away in disgust for the atrocities you had committed in the games.

One of them always haunting you, You and 12-year-old George were the last tributes standing in the arena and you knew straight away that there was no way you would be going home, you couldn’t kill him. That was until he ran to attack you and in a strike of defence you had pushed him, he had landed on one of the spears of the dead tributes. His lifeless eyes have haunted your nightmares to this day.

As you tune back into the Capitol TV, you hear Snow’s voice state, “…the third quarter quell games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district”. Your heart thuds inn your chest as bile rises in your throat. You can feel your eyes burning with unshed tears as you disconnect from reality. The only thing that brings you back is the realisation that the other victors may just as well be in the same predicament.

You get up to go to Finnick’s house, the light is on, so you know he must be at home so as you knock on the door, shaking on the front step in either coldness or fear, you’re no longer sure, you’re greeted with Finnick’s hard gaze as he opens the door to let you in. You whisper a small greeting as your eyes travel to the couch in front of the TV where Annie sits, she’s a mess of tears and you can only hold off for so long before you make your way towards her to comfort her.

Finnick watches the both of you in pain and worry as you try and keep yourself composed to focus on Annie, you know just how hard it must be for her, she had never truly been okay after her games so right then you had made the decision. If Annie’s name was ever called, you would volunteer for her, you could not sit at home and watch one of your best friends relive their pain on national television as you sat back and did nothing.

“I can’t believe this; how can they do this? After our games we were supposed to live! I can’t go back there” Annie says, and you softly rock the both of you as you rub her back, you look over her shoulder to where Finnick is standing and watching you both as his features tighten in anger.

“It’s going to be okay, I promise, you’re not going into that arena, okay?” Annie pulls away and looks up at you in shock and she’s shaking her head as she lifts her hand to her mouth to stifle her sobs. “You can’t” She says, and you smile back at her as you tuck her long hair behind her ear as you move to hug her, whispering in her ear, “I will make sure he comes back to you” and Annie squeezes you tighter.

You realise then that whatever happens in the reaping and the games, that its much bigger than you. Since Finnick had a high chance of volunteering for any of the younger and older victors you knew that it was up to you to bring him back home. He had a reason to come back, Annie needed him more than you did, and you acknowledge that even if he had never loved you the same way you may love him, that with you dying breath you would make sure he came back to Annie.

The day of the reaping, you stood in the middle of Annie and Mags as they took out the name for the female tribute, “The female tribute from District 4 is, Annie Cresta-“ Before the announcer is done speaking your mouth moves without thinking, “I volunteer as tribute.” You state with confidence and hear Annie flinch as tears rise in her eyes. You let go of her hand and walk to the front of the podium, the announcer looks at you in shock and sympathy before she announces, “Our Volunteer in place of Annie Cresta, Y/N Y/LN!” she states.

You feel Finnick’s hard gaze on you as they wait for the announcement of the male tribute. When Finnick’s name is called, your heart clenches in pain at the thought of your best friend having to see you die in the arena. His demeanour instantly switches to play the part of the Capitol’s prince as he makes his way to stand next to you. You both smile at the crowd as you make your way towards the train to say goodbye to your loved ones.

As Finnick and Annie say heartfelt goodbye’s you realise that nobody has come to see you, you wipe the tears pooling in your eyes as Annie turns to you after saying bye to Finnick, she runs and hugs you and thanks you softly in your ear. You squeeze her tightly and reiterate your previous promise before you’re met with the solemn gaze of Finnick.

You nudge him with your arm and playfully tease him, “That looks isn’t very Capitol Prince of you Finn”, his strained smile does not go unnoticed, but you attest it to the pain of having to relive the games however the only thought running through Finnick’s mind is how he plans on keeping you safe.

Somehow you both think that trying to save the other might just be your own downfall.

#juliwrites #hunger gaames #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #thg finnick #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair hurt/comfort #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair hc #finnick x oc #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games trilogy

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cherryxblossxms · 6 months

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Bedtime Relaxation

Lucifer x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: I don't give nearly enough love to my Luci, and I just wanted to write him being casual and simply wanting some loving from his MC. Not proofread and a bit of a rushed ending

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: fem afab reader, fluff and smut, no protection, neck kisses and a lil biting, praise, dirty talk, fingering, creampie, a bit of breeding, cockwarming; remember to pee after sexxxx; Lucifer is a tease but there's a lot of love~

: ̗̀➛ Word count: 3382 this was going to be short what happened

It wasn't unusual for you to go to bed alone most nights. When getting into your relationship with the Avatar of Pride, you knew what a workaholic he was. Thanks in part to his troublesome brothers, there was always work and bills to be looked over. The rest was thanks to Diavolo, having to review matters concerning R.A.D. on a near constant basis as an important member of the R.A.D. student council.

Any attempts to assist him were often met with stubborn refusals, but you fought against those with tooth and nail. Sometimes you managed to help decrease his workload, easing his burden at least a little bit. But you had to be honest with yourself that, more often than not, there was some paperwork that was simply too far above your head to manage. That's why tonight, you'd gotten ready— dressed only in one of his shirts as your pajamas— and slipped into bed all by yourself once more, your lonely sigh echoing in the empty room.

You were almost comedic looking amidst the bountiful sheets as the singular figure on your lover's massive bed. You knew Lucifer would always join you eventually, when his coffee ran out and his mind refused to look at any more papers, serving to fill the bed just a bit more. In fact, Lucifer often told you he slept better ever since you started sleeping by his side, so he always made sure you two were together during the night. But you still couldn't help the loneliness in your chest, and unfortunately, your day had been an exhausting one. It wasn't long before you had to succumb to sleep without him, missing his touch and dreaming of being in his arms.

You awoke some time later to movement on the mattress. You couldn't tell how much time had passed, but given how dark it was, you'd hazard a guess it was a few hours since you fell asleep. A cold hand made its way around your waist before a hard body pressed up against you from behind, spooning you close. Without looking, you knew immediately who it was, but that didn't stop you from angling your head back, trying to catch any kind of glimpse of your lover in the darkness.

"Lucifer?" You asked, almost involuntarily.

"Yes, it's me," he replied, and took the chance to kiss you softly before settling behind you. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. I wanted to finish up my work and didn't realize how late it was. You can go back to sleep."

Your body rejoiced in that, wanting to return to your slumber as soon as possible. But your mind wanted otherwise. It had been a while since you'd gotten any quality alone time with the eldest demon, and even if it was brief, any time together was better than none at all.

You shook your head despite the darkness of the room, clutching to the arm around your body.

"That's ok, I want to stay awake a little longer. I've missed you." You hated how needy you sounded when you were tired, but it was the truth.

You could feel Lucifer chuckle rather than hear it, and another kiss was pressed to the back of your neck.

"I've missed you, too, my love," he said, nuzzling against you. "Nothing is right until you are in my arms like this." His words brought heat to your face, your heart aching with so much love for your hard-working demon.

Several more kisses followed, showered against your lips, your neck, and the curve of your ear, and everything in you wanted to purr at the feeling. His arm tightened around your middle, hips bumping your butt as he got as close as possible, and sparks came to life low in your belly. You couldn't help but squirm against him, his kisses and his touch always serving to rile you up in the best way, and you couldn't help but want more.

A well-placed bump of your butt into his groin made Lucifer grunt, and he retaliated with the drag of sharp canines against your skin, making you shiver. Any remaining sleepiness in you totally dissipated, replaced by the need for more. If Lucifer hadn't been holding you down, you would have turned around to get better access and deliver some kisses and bites of your own. So instead, the two of you settled for grinding and groping, your bodies heating up beneath the sheets.

Lucifer's nimble fingers quickly unbuttoned the shirt you were wearing, the pride and possessiveness within him swelling at seeing you wear his clothes— along with something else between his legs. A quick squeeze to your breast pulled a mewl out of you, and it was easy to arch up into his touch, encouraging him to continue.

With the heated, intimate atmosphere, you were quick to lose yourself in what was happening, especially as your lover's fingers squeezed and pinched at your nipples relentlessly. Having so little free time with your demon left you both needy, after all, and one thing always led to another rather quickly. But something nagged at the back of your mind, before suddenly springing forth in a tiny moment of clarity, making you gasp.

"Oh!" Lucifer's fingers stopped their movement at your exclamation. "Wait, aren't you working tomorrow? It must be so late, you need to rest."

Not that you wanted to stop, but the last thing you wanted was to be the cause of his sleep deprivation. An exasperated sigh blew across your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"No, I'm not working tomorrow. And these long nights are exactly the reason I asked to take tomorrow off." That surprised you, causing you to glance back at him. You're sure if one of Lucifer's brothers had heard that, they would be surprised too; the eldest brother never took vacation, at least not before he met you. "I've been away from you for too long, and I plan to start making it up to you, my darling."

The fingers that had been teasing your breasts began sliding down your body at a tantalizing pace, kisses decorating the back and side of your neck again as he did so. After what felt like a torturously long time, but was likely mere seconds, he reached the apex of your thighs. You hadn't even realized the way your core was throbbing, aching for his touch.

He paused for just a second at the lack of underwear, before moving onward. A single, long finger separated your folds down the middle, teasing your hole before swiping up and just barely glancing your clit. You could feel your wetness, hear it even, before he even said anything, knowing just what exactly he was feeling, and a deep, seductive hum filled your ear as he seemed to voice your thoughts.

"Hmmm, see? You're so wet for me already," he said, lips pressed to your ear now. "I've been neglecting you, clearly, not taking care of my lover's needs like I should. It's only fair that I repay you what you're owed, pleasure you to your heart's content."

His words warmed your heart, while simultaneously feeding the throbbing in your clit, desperate for more of his touch. Lucifer's work usually took priority over many things, so you hadn't expected him to think about it like this. Not that you didn't appreciate it, though.

"You haven't been neglecting me, Luci," you said. "I know how important your work is, I knew that when we got together, and you know that I support you still."

Another hum in your ear, but he stayed silent, letting you continue.

"I just want you to be able to relax a little, so you don't burn out. You haven't been neglecting me, so you don't have to take time off just to please me. Although, that means so much to me."

A beat of silence passed, and you opened your mouth to question his silence before that same long finger suddenly swiped over your clit, your slick on his finger making it glide with ease. The motion made you jolt, drawing a slight moan from your lips.

"Ahh— hey!" You protested, grabbing his arm.

He waited another moment before repeating the movement, but this time making slow, leisurely circles around the sensitive bud. Your thighs opened involuntarily, giving further access to your heat, and you couldn't help the shuddering moan you let out.

"And what if I said that me taking time off is actually for a selfish purpose?"

The words only half registered in your mind, basking in the stimulation he was giving you, and it didn't help you understand them any better.

"While it happens to be for pleasing you, I'm taking time off because I wanted to feel you beneath me all night... and all day," Lucifer teased, pleased with your reactions to his ministrations. "Instead of the sound of pen scratching on paper, I wanted to hear you moan my name until you lost your voice. And instead of feeling the cold loneliness of my study, I wanted to feel your sweet, warm little pussy squeezing my cock."

You couldn't help the groan that came out. If you could orgasm from words and voice alone, you knew that line would have done it.

"So give in to me, my love, and let me pleasure you like I've been aching for," he purred into your ear.

Your lover always knew exactly what to say, and although you were still concerned about his exhaustion and the late hour, you were beginning to lose the battle of willpower against his masterful fingers. As much as you wanted to insist that he rest, you had to admit his argument was... compelling. You finally sighed as you gave in the pleasure, relaxing against your lover as his hand continued.

"Fine," you said, reaching back to place your hand on Lucifer's cheek. "Give it all to me."

Lucifer didn't waste a second before plunging two of his fingers into you, sufficiently slick from your arousal. The heel of his hand ground against your clit simultaneously, and the pressure was heavenly. He set a good rhythm, mind-meltingly good, making you whimper from the pleasure, and a sharp cry was drawn out as he found and attacked the most sensitive spot along your walls. A moment later, a third finger slid in, working on opening you up, and you couldn't resist rocking your hips against him in response. Your hip ached from holding your leg up for him, but you couldn’t be bothered to care until you got your orgasm.

You could feel your climax building already, the lack of touch from his long working nights making you extra sensitive to it now. And your lover had all of you memorized, every moan and tremble, every little spot that made you cry his name and gush arousal.

"My sweetheart is getting so tight for me, you're already going to cum?" Lucifer asked, as if he didn't already know the answer. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

You just whined in response, pushing your butt back into him, feeling his clothed erection straining behind you.

Lucifer huffed, keeping up his pace. "Look at you, you can't even answer me. I can feel how close you are, though, how badly you want this."

And he was right, you were rapidly approaching the edge. The sounds of your wetness filled the quiet room, and your body felt blazing hot. You couldn't imagine what kind of mess was between your legs as he continued playing with your cunt.

Just as you could feel your pleasure begin to peak, his fingers suddenly stopped, simply stuffing your pussy instead. The orgasm he'd been working you towards instantly began to slip away, and you tried to rock your hips again, desperate to chase it. But Lucifer anticipated your move, removing his fingers all together, and the action made you want to cry.

Wasn't he just telling you about how he wanted you to cum??

Your lover shifted behind you, but you were too at a loss to think of what he was doing. It wasn't until you felt his bare, solid length between your thighs, eagerly pressing against you and getting covered in your slick, did you realize he was preparing to take you. And as expected, Lucifer began to rock his hips forward slowly, dragging his length through your folds. His heat and his size were intoxicating, and as if you weren't already a mess from his fingers, his length was doing wonders against you.

Each time he drew back, you could feel the mushroom head press towards your entrance, and you hoped he’d finally slide in and fuck you like he promised. But your hopes were dashed as he simply moved forward again, bumping your clit instead, seemingly unaware of your growing desperation. The man was teasing you, and it drove you nuts the way he knew exactly how to press your buttons.

"Luciiiiii," you whined.

Lucifer squeezed you close, chuckling low in his chest. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “It sounds like you want something.”

“Wh– Of course I want something!" You protested. "I was going to cum and you just stopped! You just said you want to please me, and now you're teasing me instead."

"I don't believe the two are mutually exclusive." This made you huff, your eyes rolling hard in your head. "Don't be mistaken, my love. I'm going to make sure you cum as much, and as hard, as possible in the next 24 hours. But a little denial helps to sweeten the deal, doesn't it?"

You hated that he was right. Orgasms with Lucifer were powerful, and it was all thanks to his devastating combination of denial then reward. Whether it was because he was a demon, or because he had potentially hundreds of years of experience, you weren't sure. All you knew was that Lucifer could play you like his favorite instrument, and make you sing like no one else possibly could. All you could do was whine softly in response, Lucifer continuing to tease his length against you at a leisurely place until you said otherwise.

Just as you were ready to explode at him, however, you finally felt his tip press to your entrance. All the teasing and prep made it easy for him to slide in, his mushroom tip popping past the first ring of muscle with ease, making you gasp softly, but he took his time pressing in, making sure you were comfortable.

“Ohhhh, fuck…”

Even with the prep, he always gave you a good stretch, and as he bottomed out, that delicious full feeling was incomparable. The mutual relief of finally feeling each other effectively silenced you both, and all you could hear for a moment was your combined heavy breaths.

That first thrust was heavenly.

He gave you a moment to get adjusted before slowly pulling out, almost all the way, then pushed forward again. The gift of long-anticipated friction drew an involuntary moan out from your lips, the first of many for the night, and it spurred your lover on to up his pace. Once Lucifer knew you were okay, one of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him as his hips started moving faster.

You reached an arm back to touch his hip, feeling the pull of his muscle as he moved, and focused on the feel of his cock pumping between your walls. You closed your eyes, reveling in your relief and your pleasure.

“Mmh, there’s my good girl. You feel so good, so warm and wet for me,” Lucifer groaned in your ear. You couldn’t help the way it made you tighten around him, drawing a grunt from him as he pushed forward, and you certainly couldn’t help the gush of arousal that came forth, either.

Suddenly, he stopped as he adjusted the angle, raising your one leg up and moving closer, seemingly trying to find the right spot before resuming his thrusting. And he’d evidently found what he was looking for as his cock seemed to reach a new depth in you, pressing against a particularly sensitive spot deep within and immediately pulling out a cry from your lips.

“Ah, there it is,” he said, and you could hear the smug tone in his voice.

Whatever it was, he was relentless as he focused his thrusts towards it. Each press of his cock hit that same spot, just a little painful but overwhelmingly pleasurable. It was like he’d pressed the off button to your nerves, rendering your limbs as spaghetti as he increased his pace once again, your legs now forced apart by his own limb to keep that deep access. The sound of the bed rocking and heavy breathing filled the air, only adding to the close, sensual atmosphere.

“Ngh, Luciiii, it’s t-too deep,” you managed to say, your words stuttered by the thrusting. But Lucifer wasn’t giving any mercy, feeling the way your pussy hugged his cock told him everything he needed to know, keeping up his pace against your body.

“I know you can take it, love. You always take me so well. Just a little bit longer, we’re almost there.” True enough, the change in angle had you rocketing towards your climax now, that familiar pressure building up in your pelvis, and you found yourself rocking your hips in time with Lucifer seeking out the end. His own pace was beginning to suffer, clearly approaching his own end too, and you wanted to hold on long enough to meet that orgasmic crash together.

Right as you thought this, however, two nimble fingers found their way between your legs once more. Before you could even think to say anything, Lucifer’s fingers found your clit, soaked and throbbing for attention, and began to rub devastating circles on the sensitive nub. Any remaining thoughts scattered at once, the attention to your clit and the rough, deep thrusts all that were occupying your mind now, your climax closer than ever. It was all you could do to hold onto him for dear life, little whispers of “yes” and “please” escaping your lips as your pleasure began to peak.

At the same time, Lucifer pressed his lips to the side of your neck, his sharp canines denting your skin and threatening to break through. “Ohhhhh yes, cum with me, love, I can feel it. I want you to milk me, I’m going to fill you up so well, fill you with every drop I have. Cum with me,” he muttered, his pleas ending in a rush of words before his climax finally hit.

As he came, Lucifer bit down on your neck, holding you still as he grunted against your skin. You could feel the sudden rush of warmth deep inside, the sign of his cum painting your walls, and between all the sensations and the thought of taking his seed, it finally made your climax crash over you too. You couldn’t help the loud moan you let out, squeezing hard on your lover’s cock and milking him exactly as requested.

You were both a mass of trembling limbs as you rode out your orgasms, Lucifer’s hips gently rocking against you and working his seed deeper even as he started to soften inside you. You squirmed as it began to overstimulate you, and he finally, blessedly, stopped his movements. Your mind wasn’t yet back together, unable to say anything in the aftermath, but your demon lover seemed much the same, simply nuzzling your skin and kissing where he’d bit you.

He leaned up a little and his lips finally met yours, kissing you softly. Ideally, you knew you should get up and clean yourself up, but that delicious climax and the warmth of Lucifer’s body were calling you back to sleep. It didn’t help that your lover’s arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him like he was afraid you’d leave. As the darkness came to swallow you up, you figured, fuck it. Maybe just this once, you could indulge yourself, happy in the thought that your lover would be there to greet you tomorrow.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated 💜

#lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #lucifer smut #the minx can write ✍️#spicy minx 🔥#hi hello yes i can only post at 3am apparently

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cowyolks · 1 year

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SWEET ELIXIR

Pairing: Vampire!Keegan Russ x Female!Reader

Prompt: After an unfortunate capture, Keegan is held hostage by the Federation. Unable to break his tough resolve, Rorke injects him with a new type of drug, something that makes him inhuman. Now a blood sucking monster, Keegan is turned loose with the objective to hunt his fellow teammates, including you.

Words: 5.2 k

Warnings: Keegan is a horny vampire, Biting, Blood Kink, Oral (f receiving), Fingering, Blood sucking, P in V sex, creampie, obsession with pulse points, typical COD violence, a lil bit of cock warming to balance it all out. And I feel as if whiny Keegan needs it’s own warning.

A/n: this took too long. Bite me! Get it?

“You’re a tough son of a bitch to find.” The familiar growl of a former teammate met his ringing ears rather roughly.

If he was able to lift his head, he may have considered spitting on Rorke’s face in angry retaliation. But Keegan felt numb, he could no longer feel his fingertips against the cold restraints of his prison cell. His bare torso was more black and blue than his actual skin tone, and blood dripped from his torso down to his pants.

He was dying, that much he knew.

Yet, the Ghost would rather take a stabbing blade one hundred times to the heart than let the federation capture you.

He’d do anything. Fight anyone. Bear any wound or torture just to know you were safe. And maybe that made him foolish, and for that he’d willingly be called a fool.

It was supposed to be a simple scout mission, to access the liveliness of a border camp that the Federation had set up just on the outskirts of San Francisco. It was you and him, the quiet ones of the Ghosts.

You were a lethal one, always quick and steady on your feet. It had gotten you in trouble before ODIN, often times you’d be reprimanded by your Drill Sergeants before you eventually fell under the command of Elias Walker. You were forever in his debt, because now, you found a family you’d never known.

You’d been trying to crack Keegan’s shell ever since Operation Sand Viper. You were both so young back then, fresh out of High School and foolishly trying to prove yourselves. You’d fought tooth and nail with him the first few years, always attempting to one up each other.

Now, you worked as a well oiled machine. You covered his back, he shielded yours.

He smiled through the pain as he recalled how he’d been captured. You’d been so excited to go with him on the mission, the two of you hadn’t had any alone time in months. Simply resolving in hidden affections of stolen kisses and longing caresses he’d wished were more.

He’d finished scouting the camp, taking notes and envisioning tactics to take on the tangos once Ajax, Merrick, and Kick joined in. You were next to him, crouched down and putting your binoculars away.

“I gotcha something.” You hummed as you silently continued to shuffle through your pack.

His eyes fell away from the camp in finality, stepping back into the cover of everglade and leaves. His gaze softened slightly as he took you in, a faint crinkle catching upon the corner of his eyes.

You held out the faded package to him with a giddy look, and although your nose and lips were covered by your mask, he could still see just how happy you were to gauge his reaction. He felt his own lips pull against the worn fabric of his mask, a twinkle in his eyes as he studied the package now in his palm.

A honeybun.

He chuckled silently at the offering. You’d been quick to catch onto Keegan’s undeniable sweet tooth. He was always one to raid safehouses and cars for any sweet he could get his hands on. Often times you’d find him sucking on peppermints to break his awful cigarette addiction, something you found slightly amusing.

You didn’t mind tasting mint on his lips.

“Where’d you find the time to snatch this?” His voice was rough from not speaking, but the soft edge was still heard. You simply shrugged, watching him tear open the package. “I have my ways.”

He split the stale cake into two pieces, offering one out to you, which you took graciously. It had been a long time since either of you had anything sweet, regardless of it being stale and expired.

You chewed upon the artificial pastry, grimacing at the taste that reminded you of sugary sawdust, yet Keegan seemed to be enjoying the treat regardless. He licked the crumbs from his fingers, his jaw ticking slightly from chewing, it had been a while since he shaved. Still the shadow growing on his cheeks definitely suited him.

“What’re you staring at, doll?”

You scoffed at his teasing tone, lightly giving him a shove. Just as you were about to retaliate a gunshot rang through the night air. On instinct, the two of you ducked, yet it was far easier for you to drop to the ground.

Keegan shouldered his rifle, eyes glinting as he clicked the safety off and turned into the direction he thought the shot came from.

“It came from East of us, about four o’clock.” His voice dropped into his usual ordering tone. But a slow sniffle made him drop his gaze to you. Your hand was clutched over your shoulder, red already leaking through your fingers and soaking your clothes.

“Fuck! Hang in there, beautiful,” he felt his heart drop, even though you were doing everything right—Putting pressure on the wound. His own hand covered yours, pushing down even harder. You whined in protest which had him cursing.

“I know, doll. I know it hurts, but keep that pressure.”

He pushed a hand to his comm, frantically shaking fingers nearly missing the open line. Your blood smeared across his face accidentally. He’d never been so sick by the thought.

“Merrick! Requesting immediate EVAC.” His voice was commanding, though it rang loosely like you were underwater. The bullet wound hurt like a toothache, a constant throb, that had your eyelids betraying you like an anchor to sea.

“Hey!” Keegan spoke above you, lightly patting upon your clothed cheek to keep you awake. “I told Merrick our exact coordinates. Stay put, I’ll draw them away.”

You hummed, before he grasped your chin between his fingers. “Tell me you understand.” He ordered, just as you weakly held up a thumbs up.

“I understand.”

With a nod, Keegan left the cover of the brush, and that was the last you saw before your eyes closed.

His head whipped to the side, a forceful smack hit the flesh so hard it had him spitting blood. His knuckles clenched bone white at his sides.

“I’ll give you one last chance, Soldier. Where are you Ghosts holed up?” Rorke’s voice sounded more distant than it was.

“Fuck… you.” Keegan grunted, a deranged smile painted against his lips as blood slicked upon his teeth. Rorke chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“Damn you Ghosts! Always so hard to break. But trust me, everyone has a breaking point. Even that little bird you have sleeping in your nest.” Rorke alluded to you, and it was enough for Keegan’s eyes to flare in anger.

“I think I’ll kill her last, she was always so weak.”

Keegan’s jaw clenched tightly, despite his numb body, he found courage to jolt forward, slamming his forehead into Rorke. The sound cracked across the cement walls, and while it sealed his fate, at least he got to hit the bastard one more time.

“Shouldn’t have done that, Russ.” Rorke growled, body swaying slightly before moving to the table designed for Keegan’s torture.

The Ghost’s eyes dropped to his lap, finally letting numbness take over as his eyes fluttered shut. Rorke’s footsteps approached, just as his large palm gripped upon Keegan’s neck, his pulse thumping dully. He tilted his head upwards, just as Keegan caught sight of the metallic syringe held in his opposite hand.

The fluid incased was a vibrant red, almost as if it was glowing. Yet, he didn’t seem to care as he slumped again, barely feeling the prick against his carotid artery. He’d hoped whatever he was being injected with would kill him. At least then he’d know you’d be safe and he wouldn’t have to keep up such a tough resolve.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, but if you won’t tell me where the Ghosts are, you’ll kill them for me.” His words had Keegan’s brow furrowing, but before he could even let his mind run, a blade entered between his ribs, plunging into his heart and killing him instantly.

It had been two days since you woke up in the med bay. Two days since Keegan was officially marked as M.I.A.

You exhaled, as you settled your mask over your nose, looking forward and nodding towards Merrick, who appeared grim on the other side of the chopper. It was obvious he didn’t like the idea of you out in the field with a freshly healed bullet wound, but Ghosts looked after each other and you’d be damned if you left any quadrant unturned. You’d find Keegan, if it was the last thing you did.

Your shoulder ached against the weight of your pack, but it didn’t stop you from heaving extra med packs. Merrick chewed upon his lip again, eyeing you warily. You couldn’t help but narrow your eyes. Remembering his conversation earlier of how you weren’t on your game, stating this rescue was too personal. You’d argued that this was Keegan.

A gentle palm landed on your uninjured shoulder, causing you to glance up again to see the former Seal staring down at you with uncharacteristically soft eyes.

“We’ll find him, I promise you that.”

You found yourself nodding, determination flaring in your very soul as you listened to Merrick give the rundown.

“We don’t have leeway to fly out until tomorrow, so conserve ammo and don’t get caught. We’ll split into quadrants. I’ll take West, Ajax cover North, Kick go South.”

That left you to East. Where Keegan was last seen. This was the quadrant you needed to be at, it would be the one with the most tracks.

“Speak limitedly. Remember we are in hostile territory.” Merrick sounded just as your feet hit the mossy ground with a plunk.

You nodded, before falling back into the dark wasteland of the forest. Crickets chirped against the overgrown roots and owls hooted from the shared branches. If it wasn’t for your situation, you’d definitely enjoy sitting upon a stump and listening to the sounds nature gave.

Light from the moon floated against the swaying leaves, although it definitely wasn’t enough to illuminate the way. With a click and a beep, you pulled your night vision gear down over your eyes.

It was eerily quiet, especially for a camp being only a couple hundred yards from your location. With a clenched jaw you pushed onwards, head on a swivel as you suppressed the queasy feeling from your gut.

You crouched under some brush when your eyes leveled with the small hunting cabin that the Federation soldiers were camped out at. Tents fluttered in the balmy breeze. It was disturbing, to see a camp with life and light now had none.

No lanterns, no fire, no electricity. Nothing.

That was definitely not what it was like two days ago. If anything, the federation soldiers were too easy to find. Loud and obnoxious as they drank alcohol and burnt their fires too high so smoke flew over the trees lines.

Now you heard nothing. Only the hoot of the owls and chirping crickets. It had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up straight.

With a little exhale, you crept onwards. Slowly inching to the corners of camp, where you maneuvered around several empty tents, the entrance flaps open and flowing in the breeze.

Your eyes followed a patch of trampled moss, something that indicated struggle. Your heart leapt at the clue, at least now you had a lead. You crouched, leveling with the path. It lead to the old cabin. Maybe, just maybe Keegan was there and licking his wounds.

A loud crack sounded in front of you, just beyond the wooden cabin and out into the forest. You already had your assault rifle pointed towards the noise, just as you began to advance.

It sounded of a broken twig, as if someone was discreetly spying upon your stalking form. Your back finally hit the wall of the cabin, before you hesitantly peaked around the corner. Your jaw clenched at the sight of four bodies all face down upon the moss.

Your heart dropped when you saw the familiar mask of a certain ghost, the material lay against the ground, torn.

“No,”

You dropped the rifle to the side of the wall without a second thought, rushing to the bodies, relieved when you saw the tuffs of blonde hair and unfamiliar clothes upon the three bodies. Blood dried in puddles, almost like a cushion. The color was a dark brown, they’ve been dead for a while. Your heart pounded as you approached the last body, dark hair cropped so much like Keegan’s— dark tactical gear as well.

The body was a few yards away from the others, moss upturned like someone had grappled with him before they fell. With shaky fingers you flipped the body over. You let out a watered gasp, relief wrapping you like a blanket when the glassy eyes staring back at you weren’t Keegans.

You studied the Soldier, noticing the dirt under his fingernails, the claw marks in the soil next to him made it seem like he was trying to crawl away. Then you noticed how little injuries this guy had. The other three had visible gunshot wounds, and as you looked closer you saw the smoky black shells of Keegan’s signature bullets.

This body, had no wounds. No bullet to the lungs or heart. You crouched lower, turning his face to the side.

You clenched your jaw when you caught the laceration upon his neck.

Teeth marks.

You stood quickly, turning to the side to where your rifle was resting against the side of the cabin.

It wasn’t there.

Instead a loud click echoed through the night, your mag falling to the dirt as you looked to the man who held upon your rifle. A man that should have been Keegan, if it wasn’t for the bright red eyes and crusted blood over his chin.

“Keegan?” You couldn’t help but whisper, nearly cringing when your words got caught in your throat. The man in front of you nodded, setting your rifle back in its original spot.

“How’s your wound?” He asked. You took a step backwards, upon seeing him advance slowly towards you. His eyes never leaving your wounded shoulder, where bandages still rested upon the flesh.

“What? Why haven’t you tried to radio us? I’ve been eating myself alive.” You wailed, attempting to ignore just how much your brain was telling you to run. Maybe the red in his eyes was simply an illusion, perhaps he popped a blood vessel.

The creature, Keegan held up a radio he fished from his pocket. You faintly made out the broken material from a couple yards away.

“Have you been here this whole time? You must be hungry?”

Keegan’s eyes dropped to the body near your feet, just as his gaze trailed up your own until they landed on your shoulder again. You swore his eyes grew darker as he bit on his lip.

“Yes I’m hungry.” He murmured.

Cautiously you took a step forward, observing the way his body stiffened and how he seemed to be holding his breath. His head tilted to the moss below, refusing to look you in your eyes.

As you grew closer your heart plunged deeper. His eyes were red, this wasn’t some illusion.

“What happened to you?”

Keegan peered down at you, his eyelashes sticking to his cheeks.

“I-I don’t know. I was captured. Tortured.” He huffed, taking a step back as he inhaled too strongly. He brought his hand up to his temples, rubbing furiously.

You gaped at him, how he escaped was beyond you, how he was standing with no visible injuries— it concerned you more than if he would have came back bloodied and bruised.

“I need to sit down, you’re too loud,” he growled. Faster than a blink, a literal blink Keegan disappeared from your view, only a shadow inside the cabin indicating he was crouched over a worn out sofa.

It was inhuman to move that fast. Still, you needed answers. You figured this wasn’t the most horrific thing you’ve faced as a soldier.

You were silent when you approached next, the only indication you were near was when a floorboard creaked from under your boots and the door clicked shut behind you. “Let me check for wounds.” You whispered, now more aware.

“I already did. All of them healed, as if I wasn’t tortured at all.”

Your hand flew to his shoulder at his defeated whine, so uncharacteristically like Keegan it scared you. His nose bumped against your wrist. He let out a deep inhale.

“I blacked out, woke up to a soldier guarding me in this house. He tried to run, but I killed him.” He wheezed.

“How’d you kill them?” You whispered into the dark room, knowing the answer, but wanting him to confirm it. Maybe he’d deny it, and you’d wake up from this horrifying nightmare.

Monsters didn’t exist. Vampires weren’t real. Still…..

“I-I bit his neck, I could hear his pulse, smell the blood. I…. Drank it.”

Your breathing picked up, something that Keegan picked up on immediately. He was up from the couch in a flash, cool palms laying upon your cheeks as he pleaded.

“I couldn’t help it! Something happened to me, Rorke he injected me with this drug, made me like this. He said I would kill you. All of the Ghosts.”

Your hands wrapped upon his wrists, eyes wide as you listened to his begging. This thing, it sounded like your Keegan, maybe with proper help he could be saved. Maybe.

“Do you… want to kill me?” You asked, glancing upwards as you saw his throat bob. Immediately he shook his head, red eyes boring into you as his fingertips pushed against your pulse.

“No. I love you too much to consider.” He vowed, hands reaching ever so gently down your sides in an unconscious practice, something he did so frequently in the confines of your quarters.

“But God, you smell so good.” He whined again, nose falling ever so gently to your thrumming pulse point. You were ashamed at how quickly heat rushed to your core. He was some type of monster now, yet, still you felt the sudden need to be with him.

A monster in a cabin, how ironically cliche.

As if to make matters worse, you felt his intake of breath, just as his fingertips dug hard into your hips, like he was anchoring himself to you.

It was wrong, definitely not morally correct to lean closer towards him. To smell his scent of hickory smoke and twang of blood. Still, you couldn’t help but lose yourself in the feel of him. He was still your Keegan, and maybe you could make adjustments of his situation as you went.

A low hiss alerted you to just how uncomfortable he must be. Whatever he was, a lust for blood made him dangerous. And here you were baiting him like a worm on a hook, ready to be swallowed whole.

“I need you…” he growled against the nape of your neck again, heat swelled to your stomach. You weren’t sure if he needed your blood or you, maybe he wanted both.

Without so much as a second, you let your mouth speak before your brain could keep up. “Then take me.”

It happened in a whirl, so fast that you didn’t even register that your head was perched against the soft plush of the old sofa. His hands were on you, one attached to your hip while the other cradled the back of your neck.

You gasped at your new position, yet Keegan seemed to care less as he maneuvered your head to his, lips hungrily falling to your own in desperation. He was never one to act so brash, always taking time to kiss you and prep you. Now, he seemed to let those morals fly out the window.

His mouth was warm against your own, his lips slotting hard enough to leave your own swelling and full. Once out of your dazed position, you reached upwards, going to wrap your arms around his torso to pull him ever so tight.

Then you heard the rip.

A slow whimper left your mouth as Keegan hesitated to pull away. Your hand reached for your shoulder, your thumb brushed against the damp liquid of your own blood.

Instantly you grew rigid at the red color, your guilty gaze finding that Keegan was already glancing at the blood pooled on your thumb. His eyes screwed shut, even though his hands were working at the harness and buckles of your pants. Likely, he was trying to keep himself busy, away from the surely pungent tang of your blood.

“Breaking my heart, doll.” Keegan muttered through hesitant inhales, as if he was getting used to the scent. “I’m sorry, I pulled on the stitches.” You muttered, slightly unconscious of your opposite hand trailing upon his pleasantly cool chest.

His head shook, knowing it wasn’t your fault that you had obtained the gunshot wound. It was his, he was supposed to protect you, as he was right now. As he always would, regardless of the sweet and irresistible scent of your blood.

“It’s not your fault. But my senses are stronger. I see things I never saw, feel things more intricately, smell things more intoxicating.”

He brought your thumb to his lips, the heat of his tongue sucking upon the drop of blood on the fingertip, “taste things that’s never been so sweet.”

He dropped your hand with delicate care, strange for his new form that reeked of destruction. You peered up at him through your eyelashes, biting down upon your lip as he sniffed the air again.

“I can smell your arousal, ya know?” He teased, a toothy grin revealing slightly sharper teeth— fangs. Your face grew red with embarrassment, as you typically did with Keegan’s bold behavior in the bedroom.

“So are you just going to smell it, or are you going to help me?” You whined, your arousal only soaring as Keegan tugged upon the waistband of your pants and pulled them off your legs in one fluid motion.

“Oh, doll. I can’t wait to taste you.” His hunger radiated around him in waves, even with the balmy night air in the barely lit cabin, you found yourself shivering. Shivering as he lowered himself down further upon the couch, placing teasingly slow kisses upon each of your hip bones. His hands trailed down your bare legs, the callouses of his palms scraping pleasantly down to your knees.

Your thighs were lifted, now prettily perched upon his broad shoulders. He’d had the audacity to look at you through red hooded eyes, burning a hole into your very soul as his fingertips traced patterns on your warm flesh.

Your breath hitched when he tilted his chin down, his nose brushing teasingly against the swelling bud of your clit. Then, a curse flew from your mouth as he licked a stripe against your cunt.

He was purring, a happy hum leaving his throat as he kissed gently upon your opening. Your head flew back against the velvet cushion of the couch, hands gripping for anything that would anchor you back to the earth.

The floating feeling only increased as his lips suctioned around your clit, a lewd slurping noise filling the air.

A hand went to his hair, the soft midnight tuffs more outgrown than he usually liked. His palm pushed you down further against his lips, the feeling he brought you was much alike electricity— Alive, breathless, euphoric.

His other hand drifted down your thigh, the rough pads of his fingertips providing a beautiful contract that always drove you over the edge. So much blood on his hands, on his ledger, and yet he loved you so well.

The gentle push of his finger against your entrance had you moaning, the breach being enough to have the knot in your stomach pull taut. You wouldnt last long at the pace he was going, and judging by the smile printed against your inner thigh, Keegan knew it as well.

“You taste better than I remember, God.” He whined as if you were pleasuring him instead, his finger still worked in tangent, slick echoing against the skin in a dirty symphony. He added another, curling the digits against your walls just as he dove back in, flicking his tongue upon your overstimulated clit.

You clutched onto his head as you released against him, a slight growl falling from his lips as you echoed his name into the night. His fingers slipped from you with a pop, and just when you thought he would resurface, his lips parted again, falling to your opening. His tongue pushed into you, swirling heavenly as he lapped up all of your previous orgasm.

The sensation made you see stars, but he became ever so aware of what you wanted now. Your fingers clutched onto the collar of his ripped long sleeve, the material accenting his rippling biceps and chest nicely, yet you wanted nothing but to take it off. Keegan granted the silent command, pulling away from your weeping cunt and shimmying out of his pants and pulling his shirt over his head. You found yourself taking off your vest and shirt as well.

He leant over you like a sinner, praying to his God. His knees dropped to the far end of the sofa, just so his weight hovered over the top of you like a longing shadow, desperate to touch the object it always followed. His eyes were round and lusting as they took you in. You did the same.

He was beautiful. The moon overcasting his back and showcasing the upturnt scars and hardships in a milky glow. He was effortlessly strong, effortlessly comforting, and effortlessly eternal all in one. Your hand trailed down the soft curves of his chest, to his stomach. Goosebumps following after your fingers, as your nails scratched against the fine muscle of his abdomen.

Your hand flowed down his body like a gentle wave, when finally you reached his cock. He was painfully erect, the head of him leaking a fair amount of pre-cum. You chuckled silently into the night— as if you needed more slick, You’d swallow him whole, as you always did.

Your thumb brushed against his slit, massaging the cum down his shaft in a painfully slow motion that had him yelping desperately. His stubbled cheek once again found the slot between your shoulder, the tough hairs scratching pleasantly against your neck.

You pumped him, the sheer size of the ghost was always a surprise to you. His cock was lengthy and thick, no matter how much he attempted to warm you up, he still burrowed and stretched your walls to the maximum. Oh, how you loved it.

He held his breath as you lined him up to your entrance, not before brushing his head to gather the most of your slick.

“Ready?” He asked through a barely contained growl.

“Fuck me…” you murmured through a lustful stupor, finding yourself entrapped in his crimson stare as he angled his upper body above you. His arms caged by your head, meeting with your eyes he plunged into you, a slow hiss fell from his lips as he breached ever so slowly. Your own eyes fluttered at the sudden fullness he provided you with.

His head flew back as he whined, likely his unwavering control slipping inch by inch. Steadily you pulled his chin to your face and attached your lips again, providing a heavenly distraction as you tasted yourself upon his tongue.

He sheathed himself into you, biting upon your lip gently as he felt your walls flutter around him.

“So warm, doll.” He pulled away slightly to praise. Your stomach fluttered at his words, you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, nearly whimpering when he pulled halfway out of your cunt.

He was ruthless as he slammed back down, making the breath fall out of your lungs in a violent symphony. He set the pace roughly, making you release a series of moans and pleads of his name.

His hands were everywhere all at once. His palms hiked upward on your thighs, pushing you into him while you subconsciously wrapped them around his hips in a constricted and possessive grip. The other flew to your breasts, kneading the flesh in a harsh hold. His fingertips pinched upon the hardening bud of your nipple, making you release a satisfied gasp.

“Keegan…. Please.” You didn’t know why you were begging, he was giving you everything you needed. He rutted particularly deep at your plead, digging himself deeper into the warmth he so desperately craved. He wanted to be a part of you, to feel you so closely and to pleasure your every cell.

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” He cursed, looking down upon your flustered cheeks and panting lips. You fluttered around him again, making him lose all since of control he had before.

“I don’t know how much more I can take of you, I need it.” His panicked whine was enough for you to fall over the edge, his hips slapping into you at such a frantic pace it had you seeing stars.

He wasn’t going to stop. And you didn’t want him to. You knew what he needed, and you’d give it to him. Willingly and with open arms.

“Then take it.” You whimpered into the night air, watching his pupils blow and his thrusts to go even deeper. His little whine of protest was put to an end as his lips kissed gently upon your pulse point. His looming body caging you from squirming.

He didn’t stop his sloppy thrusting, even when he placed torturous open-mouthed kisses all down the soft flesh of your neck, until his tongue lapped gently against the thrumming pulse of your artery.

It pinched when his sharp fang-like teeth bit into your skin, yet the cooling nature of his tongue and lips pulled you to ecstasy. You clenched around him, having no time to warn him of your rapid orgasm until your legs wrapped around him tighter, your walls clenching his cock so tight his body was soon to follow you.

He was definitely in a nirvana-like state, his lips still suckling gently upon the sweet taste of your blood, his throat bobbing gently as he drank upon your life. His eyes were clenched shut as he rutted impossibly deep, hitting the very cup of your womb as he stilled.

He pulled away from your neck with a tough resolve, wanting more but knowing he couldn’t have it. Instead he focused on his earth-shattering orgasm, how his cock twitched inside you and released ropes of hot seed. He’d never felt so euphoric.

You laid limp under him, eyes flooded in darkness as you lazily looked to the blood slowly trailing down his chin. Your own blood.

Keegan collapsed, not even daring to pull his softening cock out of you quite yet. His weight was comforting, and as your fingers trailed to his chin, you collected the blood there, pushing it gently against his lips until he sucked the nectar off your fingertip with a satisfied hum.

Laying on this old couch in an abandoned cabin wasn’t ideal. And neither was the monster above you.

But you’d love him until your last breath. Even if Keegan happened to cause it.

#whew #news flash I still don’t know how to end smut #I want a vampire to bite me guys #cod #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #keegan russ #Keegan p Russ #keegan russ x reader #vampire AU

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tendermiasma · 9 months

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I'll give him a proper intro when I get my drawings finished but I'm working on my Baldur's Gate boy, Clover 🍀

He's an entirely self-taught wizard out of survival and he is Going Through it

He's been on his own for his whole life and although he doesn't speak up much, he's starting to see his party as the only family he can remember and he'd die for them. Also he pronounces a lot of words completely wrong because he's only read them in books-- you might see this as a problem for wizards and yes, for much of the time it sure was. Without a teacher Clover fought tooth and nail for everything he knows. He's a good caster with no head for people and he just met Halsin who looks like he'd like to eat him as much as talk to him. That part is his brain is just a little broken by the sheer disbelief that anyone would take to him like that— even subtle as Halsin is— and needs a good bit of waking up.

#baldur's gate 3 #oc #bg3 tav #Clover #myart #I'm already attached to him in a sick sick way #halsin also makes me sick in the head I’m just a pile of worms #welcome to my balduring of the gates

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marvelslut16 · 7 months

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The Flu

Prompt number: 22 "Who takes care of you?"

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 2.8k+

Warnings: Age gap relationship. Dbf. Swearing. Boss and employee.

A/N: A few hours late for day 4, but I was a busy woman today. Aaron and Jack never go into the witness protection program, they catch Peter Lewis right away.

The job was just supposed to be temporary, one to help you get back on your feet after dropping out of school, and you got to help your long time infatuation Aaron Hotchner now that Jess was moving out of state. It was a win win in your eyes, and it got your dad off your back. But that was almost two years ago now, and there was no end in sight for your current arrangement as Jack’s live in nanny.

The one flaw in your logic was how drop dead gorgeous your boss is. Not that that is new information, you’d been drooling over him since you were sixteen when you saw him shirtless at a backyard/pool party your dad threw. But now it’s so much worse, because he’s so sexy doing all of his mundane tasks. Making coffee at five in the morning with bedhead? Sexy. Making dinner in one of his tight white dress shirts when he gets home from a case early? Still sexy. Dressed down in casual clothes coaching Jack’s soccer team? The most sexy.

As you lament, yet again, to your best friend over text about how unfairly hot Aaron Hotchner is, the front door opens. As if he knew you were talking about him, he enters the house with a thud having dropped his go bag by the front door. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, where you are, and when he does you finally notice how miserable he looks. His dark hair is slicked to his forehead, his face pale- except for his cheeks which are bright red, and his eyes are bloodshot.

“Oh my god, Aaron! Are you okay?” your voice raising an octave, you rush over to him and guide him to one of the barstools in front of his large island.

“I’m fine, the team overreacted and sent me home,” he almost sounds convincing, until he finishes the sentence with a loud sneeze.

“Awww,” you rub your hand up and down his back comfortingly. “Did Jackers give you the flu?”

“No,” he argues, and tries to quietly sniffle.

“That’s it, straight to bed young man,” your hands resting on your hips as you tell him the same thing you told Jack a week ago when he came home from school with the flu. “While you take a nap I’ll make you some homemade chicken noodle soup.”

“It’s fine (Y/N), you don’t have to do that. I’m capable of making my own lunch,” he looks like a petulant child, his hands balled in fists also resting on his hips.

“When was the last time you let someone take care of you Aaron?” you ask, becoming annoyed that he keeps fighting you. “Six months ago when you were in the hospital, that’s when. And then you still fought it tooth and nail. Who takes care of you?”

“I can take care of myself,” he starts coughing as a result of lowering his voice in order to use his boss voice. A voice he only ever uses on you when you try to care for him too.

“You want to go back to work again soon right?” he nods. “So just listen to me. Take some Tylenol and go lay down. Please let me make you some soup.”

He finally relents and heads upstairs to bed, but not before you get him a large glass of water. Thankfully you were planning on making chicken for dinner, so you already have some thawing. You waste no time and start cooking the chicken in one pot, then you chop the vegetables. After the chicken has been shredded and the soup is simmering, making the whole house smell delicious, you sneak upstairs to check on your patient.

You’re happy to see that he’s laying in the middle of his bed bundled up in his sheets with little snores escaping him.Despite him being sick, he still looks far more at peace and relaxed in this moment then he has since you met him back when he was still a prosecutor. After a few minutes of taking him in, you head back to the kitchen and toast and butter bread to go with his soup. The soup is done ten minutes later, and you ladle a nice heaping bowl for him.

You trek back up the stairs, walk into Aaron’s room and stand beside his bed. You’ve woken him up a bunch of times when he falls asleep watching movies with you and Jack or when he falls asleep at the island going over paperwork for work, but this feels different. You’re in his bedroom, you’re boss’ bedroom. Overcoming your nerves you reach forward and gently shake his shoulder, he wakes with a start whipping his hand to grasp your wrist in a bruising grip.

“Aaron,” you startle, he doesn’t register that you aren’t a threat in his half asleep stupor. “It’s me, it’s (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)?” he snaps out of it, face contorting into a frown when he sees his white knuckled grip around your wrist. “Shit! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine,” you smile lightly, rubbing your wrist when he finally lets go. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have woken you up like that.”

“It’s my fault,” he argues, sitting up and leaning against his mahogany headboard. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the case at work before I fell asleep, I must have dreamt about it.”

“It’s fine Aaron, I just wanted to let you know the soup is done, there’s a bowl cooling on the island for you,” you smile as you slowly back out of his room, suddenly feeling like you’re intruding.

Aaron doesn’t say anything else, so you slip out of the room and head back to the kitchen to start cleaning up. Aaron joins you a few minutes later, wrapped tightly in his blue robe Jack picked out for him for Christmas last year. Aaron lets out an involuntary moan after taking a spoonful of soup, and you clench your thighs together at the delicious sound.

“This is the best chicken noodle soup I’ve ever had,” Aaron says once he’s scarfed down half of his bowl.

“You hate chicken noodle soup,” you giggle, remembering the cute way his nose crinkled in disgust when that was the only soup at some fancy restaurant the team and their families went to last year.

“Not this one!” he shovels in another spoonful.

You give Aaron another helping of the soup, glad that he’s eating and hydrating himself, before putting the rest into a container and into the fridge. You have just enough time to wash the pot and counters before heading to pick Jack up from school.

“I’m gonna head out and get Jackers in a few minutes,” you tell Aaron as he starts sneezing again. “Once you finish that, go lay back down and drink lots of water.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he murmurs thinking you won’t be able to hear him. But you do, and you glare at him for his childish antics. He finally relents, “okay.”

The drive to get Jack isn’t very long, but after the whole Peter Lewis fiasco, Aaron won’t let Jack walk home or ride the bus. And you don’t blame him. Your dad told you about Jack getting stalked during one of your weekly phone calls while you were away for school, you were rattled for the Hotchner’s.

“(Y/N)!” Jack comes running at you when he sees you, you bend down and scoop him into your arms and carry him to the car. You’ll never get tired of how excited he gets to see you when you pick him up, it’s the same happy reaction every day.

“How was school buddy? Get all the homework you missed last week when you were home sick?” you bombard him with questions as you unlock the car.

“It was great! We got to play soccer in gym today and I scored three times!” Jack wiggles in excitement before you set him back on the ground.

“That's great buddy!” you smile at him as he slips into his seat.

“Yes I got all of my make up work,” he pouts once you get into the driver's seat. “Lots of fractions, and you know how much I hate those.”

“I’ll tell ya what, you do one of your math worksheets and then we can make your dad a get well soon card,” over your time with the Hotchner’s you’ve learned that bargaining is how to incentivise the both of them. “He came home from work early with the flu.”

“Dad’s home?” Jack start’s to excitedly bounce in his seat, happy that he’ll get to spend more time with his favorite person.

“Yeah, but just remember that he’s not feeling his best so he won’t be able to do a lot,” a bittersweet smile crosses your face, it’s not fair that they don’t get to spend more time with one another. It’s not fair that Aaron has to sacrifice his personal life to make the world a better place for everyone else.

When you walk in the door you're greeted with the sight of Aaron bundled up on the couch under three blankets, the news playing quietly on the TV. Jack gives his dad a big hug before scurrying off to the kitchen to grab a snack and start his homework. You walk up to the lump on the couch that was once Aaron and reach your forearm forward to feel his forehead, and sure enough he’s much warmer than he should be.

“I don’t feel good,” Aaron whines, making the same pouty face Jack made all last week. “Everything aches.”

“I know sweetheart,” you let the term of endearment slip without thinking, too focused on trying to comfort Aaron. “You have a fever, you need to drink lots of water and get out from under those blankets.”

“No,” he huffs, clutching onto his blankets like he needs them to live. “I don’t have a fever, it’s just cold in here.”

“Aaron it's seventy two degrees in here, it’s not cold. You need to take the blankets off, it’ll only make it worse,” he shakes his head sinking further into the couch. “Fine, if I go grab the thermometer and it says you have a fever, I’m taking both of your blankets into the kitchen with me while I help Jack with his homework.”

You don’t give him time to respond before you head to the upstairs bathroom where you had checked Jack for a fever this morning before school. When you get back to him, Aaron has sunk further down into the couch and cocoon of blankets trying to hide from the thermometer in your hand. You eventually get it in his mouth and sure enough he has a one hundred one degree fever.

“Hand over those blankets,” you reach your hand out for them, and he reluctantly gives them to you. “Now drink some water and watch the news. And no more blankets!”

You help Jack with two math worksheets before he remembers your deal, and demands you make a card. He decorates the printer paper in every color marker and tops it off with those marker stamps you got him for his birthday. Jack even makes you sign your name on the card.

“Is this for me?” Aaron coughs and sits up when Jack thrusts the card in his face. “Aww thanks buddy, I love it!” Jack sits on the couch with his dad for a few minutes, but after seeing the news is on he gets up and leaves.

“You feeling up for dinner?” you ask Aaron, when Jack heads back to finish some more homework. “It’s too late for me to make something, is there any take out you want?”

“Happy Meal!” Jack yells from the kitchen

“You heard the little man, we’re having McDonalds tonight,” Aaron smiles at you as you grab your keys and call Jack to come ride with you.

The rest of the night is stress free, Jack actually listens to you when you tell him it’s time to shower and get ready for bed, all because his dad is sick and doesn’t want to make it worse. Well it’s stress free where Jack is concerned, you still have to deal with the full grown baby you call your boss.

“Time for bed Aaron,” you tell him after you’ve dried Jack’s hair and read him to sleep. “I know you don’t want to but you need to get your rest.”

“I’m not tired,” he says, even though he grabs your hand when you hold it out to him, you pull him out of his chair and lead him up the stairs and to his room

“Now take two more Tylenol and go to sleep,” he reluctantly takes the pills out of your hand and throws them back dry.

“There, are you happy?”

“I’m ecstatic,” you deadpan, moving to fluff his pillows for him.

“Thank you,” Aaron catches your gaze when he speaks, making sure to hold it.

“It's my job,” you dismiss his praise, not wanting to let yourself think about it too much and read too deep into it.

“No it's not, you always go above and beyond for us, for me,” Aaron gently catches the wrist he squeezed earlier making a mental image of the faint bruise marring your skin, and vowing to never let the world hurt you.

“Aaron,” your breath catches at the delicate ghosting of his fingertips on the inside of your wrist.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, leaning forward and now it’s his lips ghosting over your wrist. You swear your heart stops when he pushes down harder, leaving a trail of kisses around your wrist.

“What are you doing?” you ask breathlessly, the last thing you want is for him to stop, but you also need to make sure he’s in his right mind when doing this.

“Kissing you,” the words fall out of his mouth effortlessly, like they’re said all of the time. His mouth travels up your arm and he’s kissing the sensitive crook of your elbow.

Aaron pulls you down next to him in bed, quickly scooping you up and cradling you in his arms. You're at a loss for words, your dream is coming true. Aaron Hotchner actually wants you as much as you want him, and it isn’t a dream. When you’re lost in thought his lips descend on yours, and soon you get lost in him instead. There’s no rush to your kiss, just a slow languid strokes of his tongue twining with yours. It’s the perfect first kiss, there’s a heat to it, but no sense of urgency to get it over with.

“(Y/N), you have my heart,” Aaron admits breathlessly, arms wrapping around you tighter. “I know it’s wrong for many reasons, but you made my heart beat again. You love Jack and you’re wonderful with him. He loves you. I love you. You take care of me even though you don’t have to, you are the most amazing person. You’re perfect for Jack and me.”

“You have my heart too, I love you too,” you grip his chin and pull him in for another kiss. “You and Jack are everything to me, I finally feel like I belong somewhere, here with the two of you. I never want to lose this, lose you.”

“You won’t,” he kisses you one more time before pulling away completely. “But you should probably go to your own room now, wouldn’t want you to get sick from sleeping with me tonight.”

“I was home with Jack all last week, I’m fine. Plus it’s probably better I stay in here and keep an eye on you,” he smirks, kissing you one last time before resting his head on your chest.

The rest of the week is wonderful, Aaron still argues with you when you try to take care of him, but when Jack’s at school you two let the facade down. You cuddle with him and kiss him whenever you walk past him, making out on the couch like you’re two horny teenagers. Before you know it, it’s Sunday and Aaron is feeling better so he has to go into work in the morning. As the two of you say goodnight to Jack you start sneezing and the sniffling you’ve had all day rears its ugly head.

“I told you not to sleep with me,” Aaron teases you after you close Jack's door, pulling you with him and back into his room.

“I’m fine,” your arguing falls short as you start sneezing again.

“I think the team can do without me for another case,” Aaron smiles as you slip into bed with him. “I need to be here to take care of you now.” Who would have thought the flu would be what finally got you two together?

#fictober23 #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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gogobootz1 · 10 months

Text

Paperback Writer

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: When Bradley finds a stray journal at the Hard Deck, he makes it his personal mission to return it to its owner. But not before reading what's inside.

Word Count: 2.4k

Top Gun Masterlist

You've spent the last four hours at this bar and still haven't come up with a thing. The newest page in your notebook stares back at you, entirely blank. Well, blank, save for the water ring your mojito has left on it. Only the ice cubes have been left for a while now, and you sip sadly at them as you stare off at the water. Maybe a beach day will inspire you.

Sighing, you close your notebook and push it toward the wall. You don't want to think about the deadline that is slowly closing in on you. A new book, and only about two months left to complete it. It had been three, but you've spent the last month at a complete loss.

This whole night, going to dinner, going to a bar, has been with the intention of finding inspiration. You still haven't found it, so now it's time to find your way home. Pushing yourself away from the table, you peel yourself from your chair and settle up with the nice lady at the bar.

You look out at the ocean again on your walk home. It's extremely nice of your agent to let you stay at her and her wife's beach home. Pam had granted you this accommodation in the hopes it would kickstart your writing. To the extent of her knowledge, it has. She's been worried about you after you argued with the publishing company over a sequel. You fought tooth and nail for the opportunity to work on something totally new. After the commercial success of your debut novel, however, they were reluctant to pass up their chance at a sequel.

Your publishing company clearly hadn't been expecting such an exorbitant amount of copies to sell. Frankly, neither had you. By some stroke of luck or divine intervention, Taylor Swift picked up your book, read it, and posted it on her Instagram story. Stores could hardly keep it on shelves after that.

Now your publishers are simply hoping to milk the cash cow. You can't really blame them, but soon, when you don't have a second novel to give them, they're going to blame you.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Thanks for cleaning up, you two," Penny calls from behind the bar. Maverick had practically begged Bradley to stay and help so that he and Penny could start their date early. After some negotiating, he happily acquiesced.

"No problem, Penny," Rooster calls back, sending a smug look at Pete, who narrows his eyes at him. They're just about finished wiping tables, and he can tell Mav is more than ready to leave.

Bradley turns to wipe the last table but stops when he sees a leather-bound journal sitting near the window. He picks it up, turning it over in his hands.

"Done. Let's go, Pen," Mav says, rushing his girlfriend. Penny finally drops the rag she'd been wiping the bar with.

"I've still gotta lock up," she says, lightly mocking.

"I can do it, Penny," Rooster says, not taking his eyes off the journal.

"Thanks, kid," Mav smiles, whisking his girlfriend away. "Keys are on the bar. I owe you one!"

Bradley just barely hears Penny's protests as Pete rushes her out. He figures he'd better get home, himself. Giving the table a cursory wipe, he heads toward the bar to grab the keys.

Suddenly his eyes land on the lost and found bucket. Most of the Hard Deck's patrons are locals and regulars. The bin is almost always empty, and when it isn't, people always come back for whatever's inside.

Bradley looks at the journal again. Surely no one would be coming back for this tonight, though. And would they really notice if it had been flicked through? Letting his curiosity get the best of him, Bradley takes a stool at the bar and starts reading.

After a few pages, he starts to realize just what the journal is. It's no diary, none of the juicy details of someone's personal life that he had nosily been hoping for. No. It's a book, or some sort of story, at least. It's a good one, too. Bradley takes a sidelong glance at the clock and finds he's stayed for an hour longer than he intended.

He grabs the keys and locks everything up for Penny, not bothering to put his find in the lost and found.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Bradley can’t remember when he’d fallen asleep, but he's certain that it wasn’t before he’d read the vast majority of the journal. His neck is stiff from crashing on his couch, but he has a new interest in finding whoever wrote this.

He hasn't been that interested in a book in a while, and he'd be remiss if the author doesn't get their work back. Especially when the work is so incredible. Bradley's never considered himself the most avid reader. He only reads when he's got the time and wouldn't rather be watching the game. This book, however, has him hooked. He thinks it should be on shelves, selling out all over the world. He only needs to find this person to tell them that.

Where do people write their names in their journals?

He makes a face, confronted by his own stupidity, and flips to the front page. Sure enough, on the back of the cover is a woman's name and address. Bradley's not quite sure if people knock on each other's doors nowadays, or if that's entirely creepy, but he's willing to find out.

Once his fist is inches away from her door, Bradley hesitates before knocking. Is it creepy that he's here? Is it creepy that he read the journal? He's willing to admit that one. Should he tell the author he read it at all? Maybe he should pretend he didn't. Can he fake being a Good Samaritan when he really wants to ask this woman about her writing? He doesn't have time to answer these questions for himself before the door swings open on its own.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You recoil when you realize someone's standing on the front porch. "Hello?" You're certain you don't know this man. He's too pretty for you to know him, and you'd at least remember him if you did.

"Hi," he responds stiltedly.

You look at him questioningly, "can I help you?"

"Yes! Actually," he holds up your journal, "is this yours?"

"Oh my god," you snatch your notebook out of his hands, "Where'd you find it?"

"You must've left it at the bar last night," he shrugged.

"Well, thanks," you smile, putting it in your tote bag.

"No problem, yeah. Wouldn't want to lose all that work," he nods. You look up suddenly.

"You read it?"

The man grimaces when he realizes he's outed himself. "Sorry," he cringes, "I'm too nosy for my own good. But can I just say that this is incredible? Really! This could be a book!"

Your face falls, and you look at him blankly, "it is."

"No!" He shakes his head. "I mean- well, yes, it is. And that's a great attitude to have, but what I'm trying to say is that you need to find a publisher. This is-"

You roll your eyes, shaking your head. Reaching into your giant beach bag, you grab your sunglasses and shove them onto your face. Stepping out onto the porch, you grab a real copy of your book from your bag and plop it in his hands. "That’s really not my problem right now, hot stuff. Have a good one,” you lock up your house and start walking towards the beach.

He doesn't follow you until a few seconds later.

"You mean you're already a published author?" You hear from behind you. You roll your eyes and keep walking, but he easily catches up. "What I read was just-"

"The prototype to what seven million American women have already consumed? Yeah," you nod.

"Holy shit!" He says, and you just hum in agreement. "So wait, what is your problem then?" You stop in the middle of the path. You haven't even said it out loud yet.

"They want another one," you admit quietly.

"That's great!" He says excitedly. You slowly turn and remove your sunglasses to level him with a glare, "...or not?"

"No, stranger, it's not great."

"I'm Bradley," he interrupts.

You barrel on, "You know when they want the sequel by?" Bradley shakes his head. "The end of next month!" You practically shout, and he cringes.

"And how much do you have done?"

Your face falls. "One," you say reluctantly, holding up a solitary finger.

"Chapter?" He asks hopefully.

"Word!"

Bradley grimaces, "What's the word?" You huff.

"'The' and the thing is, I don't even like it. I'm gonna go back and delete it." You give an exaggerated shrug, seemingly distraught.

"That's probably a bad idea," he says gently.

"Oh? And what do you know about writing novels?" Your tone is biting.

"Not a damn thing, but I know a thing or two about speed. At a certain point, you just have to keep going," he offers.

"Thank you for that wisdom, speed racer," you snap, sauntering away.

He stands there stunned.

“Wait!" Bradley jogs to catch up to where you're still marching onto the beach.

As soon as he's next to you, you barrel on. “How am I supposed to give them a sequel to a story I thought was over?”

“Huh?” He feels like he's still playing catch-up as he matches your pace.

“And I told them - I swore to God that if they made me write a sequel, I'd probably end up accidentally plagiarizing any given Remington Steele episode. But, nooooooo they insisted,” you vent.

“Remington Steele?” Bradley raises a brow.

“Okay, you don’t get to judge my 80s preferences when you look like that!” You gesture to his general appearance, Hawaiian shirt, porn stache, and all. Not that it's not working for you.

He holds his hands up in surrender.

"I've done everything. Really. Everything to try and inspire some writing. I go outside," you gesture to the outdoors around you. "I've switched the font on my computer to comic sans," Bradley visibly grimaces in response to this, and you nod at him. "Hell, yesterday I went on a run."

"I don't feel like that's all that abnormal," he ventures.

You look at him, stricken, "I've never been on a run."

"Never?"

"Not in my life," you confirm. "It didn't even help, and now my legs hurt."

"It does kind of seem like you're hobbling," he nods.

Your eyes widen, "Gee, thanks," you bite out.

"You can probably chalk it up to poor form," Bradley tries to console you. "You're supposed to land on the front of your foot when you're running."

You shake your head. "They always want to teach you something," you mumble.

"What was that?" He looks over innocently. The two of you stand at the entryway to the beach. You decide it's time to make your goodbyes to the near stranger you've confessed half your current life problems to.

"Look, that's very nice of you," your words lack some sincerity. "You seem like a nice guy, and you're very attractive, but I don't really want to get better at running. What I want is to get better at writing, which is my job, and usually, I can do it. But right now, I'm broken, so what I will do is lay in the sun and crisp like a piece of fried chicken. Bye, now!" You say cheerily, placing your sunglasses over your eyes and bounding away towards an appealing-looking plot of sand.

All Bradley can do is watch as his new favorite author walks off. He drives home and finishes the official, hand-gifted copy of your book in one sitting.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A week later, Bradley is once again at the Hard Deck. This time it's Mav's birthday, and the whole squad is celebrating before they all go their separate ways. The Navy gave everyone a month off after the Uranium mission, so this is simultaneously a celebration and a goodbye.

He steps out onto the deck to enjoy the ocean view. Bradley is pleased to find a familiar figure that lies a few meters away from the bar.

"Let me guess, you're crisping like a piece of chicken again?" You hear a voice call from above you. Suspicious of the intrusion on your private beach sulking session, you look up to find the handsome man who'd tried to return your journal the other day.

"Actually, I'm boiling like a lobster," you correct.

"Ah, my mistake," Bradley nods sagely. "Mind if I sit?"

"Okay..." you agree, silently questioning his motives.

"I had an idea," he starts. "The main character in the first book," you nod, encouraging him to continue. "You mentioned her younger sister."

"I did," you agree, not understanding where he's going with this.

"Write the new book about her," Bradley says simply, shrugging.

You stare at him for a moment, processing this thought. After a bit, your jaw drops. How did you not think of this yourself? A slew of ideas pop into your brain, and you lunge for your bag, hoping to grab your journal and write them all down.

"Are you okay?" He asks. You hold up a finger, silently asking for him to give you a second. In a hurry, you scribble down a giant bulleted list. You can't help but wish your hand moved as fast as your brain. Bradley gives a weak call of your name, concerned by the new burst of hyperactivity. It pulls your attention away from the final bullet point you've just made.

"I think you're a genius," you breathe out, looking at him in awe.

He seems shocked, "it was just an idea."

"No, no," you remain firm, "you're brilliant, and you've just saved my life." A grin pulls across his face at your words. "Pam is gonna be so stoked," you say, standing and starting to pack your things. You pause all of a sudden and reach for your notebook again. You scribble something else and tear out a sliver of paper.

You hand it over to him, and his gaze flicks over a series of hastily written numbers. Your phone number. Bradley slowly stands up.

"Breakfast, lunch, dinner, coffee, dessert, movie, ice cream, drinks- whatever you want, on me," you say in a rush. You take about two steps toward your car, hoping to call Pam and confirm that you can go in this creative direction before his voice stops you.

"How about a date?" He asks, looking after you.

You turn over your shoulder and smirk, "That was the idea."

____________________________________________________

Rooster taglist (open): @tallyovie

I hope everyone is having another very Top Gun summer <3

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #rooster x reader #top gun maverick #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #rooster x female reader

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mendessi · 1 year

Note

I see you haven't been active in a while but I'm asking a million people if you could please write a Javi Pena fic where the reader gets injured while they're on a job and he like feels something is wrong or something like that thanks

bambi | javier peña

pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

summary: you assist peña and carillo in tulo to bring gacha down but end up getting hit before the job is finished

word count: 4.4k

warnings: canon-typical violence, season 1 narcos spoilers (go watch it already wyd), kind of established relationship already, angst?, mention of death (reader does not die), tender!javi, maybe more am not sure yet, there is def a little backstory before jumping into the main part

minors dni

You had been in Colombia for almost two years and had fought your way into the position you were in. Tooth and nail, one might add. Being a woman in this line of work, in this day and age was not easy in the slightest bit. You busted your ass in school and in training just to earn a spot in the DEA, even harder to get the approval to be sent to Colombia. Even with your father having a higher up position in the DOJ, it still wasn't easy and you didn't expect it to be.

The introduction of narcotics into the United States wasn't easy on you considering one of your closest childhood friends had overdosed on their birthday trip to Miami that you were on. There was no indication that she had even consumed any drugs let alone enough to OD on, but it happened anyways and when you found her the next morning it destroyed nearly everything in you.

You were always destined to work for the Department of Justice, but something in you shifted after the death of your friend. Once the war on drugs had been declared you knew exactly where you needed to be.

Your bags were packed within an hour of receiving the call of your relocation assignment and exactly twenty four hours later you were on a flight to Bogota, Colombia to meet your new bosses at the embassy.

There was barely any time for you to set your bags down before you were asked to meet Noonan at the embassy. You weren't set to begin work for another week so you could officially move to Medellín and settle down, but there were a few papers you needed to sign to solidify your acceptance of the job.

He remembers it clear as day, the second he saw you walking into the embassy. Hair tied into a ponytail, curly pieces framing your face sweetly. A powder blue button up was tied into a knot paired with light wash jeans that weren't too tight, but were just the right amount of loose, white sneakers on your feet. His eyes followed your every step as you shook Noonan's hand outside her office door, the smile on your face brightening the room. His stomach twisted at the thought of someone like you in the war torn country you were in, wondering what even brought you here in the first place. You looked out of place, like you didn't belong here and that made him nervous. As he watched you disappear behind the ambassador's door, he decided quickly that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

About thirty minutes later, Noonan was at his desk with you by his side. He and Steve both rose from their seats at the sudden presence of the ambassador and the short guest standing next to her.

"Boys, this is your new partner. She'll join you next week in Medellín until further notice." Noonan said before turning on her heel and leaving you there standing in front of the two men that towered over you.

You had heard plenty about them and their work thus far into the hunt for Pablo Escobar and always admired their bravery for what they do.

"Right, hello. Steve." He held his hand out to you and Javier did the same, his name coming out more as a mumble.

"Sorry?" You asked.

"Javier. Peña." He repeated a bit louder and shook your hand, your name barely making it to his ears because how focused he was on taking in all of your facial features.

"I look forward to working with you both. I have to get to Medellín but, I'll see you guys next week." You spared yourself the awkward small talk and removed yourself from the situation. You could tell they were just like any other male in this line of work that were immediately doubting you upon first impressions.

What they didn't know was that you were top of your class at Quantico and could take down a man that was three times your size. You were used to people doubting you and didn't expect this to be any different.

Steve and Javier both were sharing the same thoughts and that was how someone your size could've been approved to join the DEA in Colombia. They kept that to themselves til after you had left the building.

"She's gonna get torn apart." Steve sighed gathering his things. He and Javi were only meant to be in Bogota for the day for a briefing before heading back to Medellín.

About 30 miles from home, they came across you standing on the side of the road, blood drenching your clothes and splattered across your face and your government loaned car completely totaled. The tires screeched as Javi pulled off the road behind you, he and Steve out of the car in seconds with their guns in their hands.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Javi asked, reaching a hand out to you. "Is there anyone near? Who did this?"

You were in tears, barely able to speak as Steve slowly moved around the vehicle a wave of relief washing over him when he saw the deer plunged through the windshield of your car.

"I'm sorry- I'm not- I don't ever cry like this, I swear. I'm jet lagged and covered in-" You barely could finish the sentence you just let out a frustrated groan.

"Javi," Steve called him over and he hesitated before stepping around you.

"Deer." Javi said before walking back towards you. He rested his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him, "Are you hurt?"

"No, it's his blood not mine. Fucking disgusting." You sighed, almost gagging at the sticky feeling of it drying to your skin. He almost smiled at the bad word leaving your lips, almost as if it didn't belong there.

"Here's what we'll do. We'll get your things, you can ride with us and we'll sort out the vehicle situation tomorrow." Steve said to you.

"I have a shirt in the car you can change into. It'll do til we get to your place." Javi said.

You sat in the back seat on the ride home after the boys loaded your belongings into the trunk and resumed the drive home, Javier's sweatshirt engulfing you. They weren't thinking it, but being so used to having to defend your every action to get to where you are now you felt the need to say it.

"I'm not like this usually. It's just been a rough first day." You fiddled with the sleeves of the sweater that Javier had lent you.

"You don't have to explain anything to us." Javier said.

"I do, though." Your replied in a small voice, loud enough for them to both hear and they understood it. You wanted to feel inferior to them, your two new coworkers seeing you so vulnerable before you first official day, but you knew better. They brought your things into your apartment for you once arriving and you thanked them one more time before they were gone.

When you went in on your first day, brand new desk was pushed against the two that were so used to being a duo. You even already had a nickname. You went through stacks and stacks of files catching up on the details of the hunt so far and listening to Javier and Steve tell you stories of what they'd been through so far.

Javier was slowly becoming obsessed with the way you gave whoever you were speaking to your undivided attention, how your eyebrows furrowed in concentration or even how you used your pointer finger to scan the lines of a file. The tiniest things you did were intoxicating to him and he hated it. You caught him staring at you a few times and figured he was just once again, doubting your right to be sat at that desk.

The boys both became obsessed with you in their own way. Steve obsessed with the way you carried yourself in the field. You took charge and never took any ounce of shit from any man that would look down on you. He learned quickly that you were not one to be messed with. Javier was just obsessed.

Obsessed with how your hair framed your face, how you quite literally would stop and smell the flowers while on a job, how you said his name, or how he sometimes caught you stealing glances at him from your desk that was right next to his. How your hand looked as you scribbled down notes from the day, or how you sounded when speaking over the walkies, the look on your face when you were connecting dots. He obsessed over he way you laughed at the things he said and got jealous when you'd laugh at something Steve said. He loved how easily you fell into place between him and his partner Steve, like the two of them were missing you the entire time. He loved how quickly you picked up Spanish as a second language and how intelligent you were. How you embraced to culture of Colombia as your own and were able to so easily connect with the residents of Medellín. He was obsessed with your smile, your hands, the way your waist curved, he was fucking obsessed with the way you smelled. Even after sprinting across rooftops, he still loved your scent, it's like nothing to him about you was not worth obsessing over.

It was almost your one year anniversary of moving to Colombia when he kissed you for the first time. He drove you home after a long day at the office since your car was in the shop and was nice enough to walk you to the door. You knew he was into you, he was the worst at hiding it, even Steve would tell him to which Javier would reply, "I'm not into her and even if I was, I'm smooth, okay? She'd never know."

You did know. And you were into him too, but you wanted him to make the first move. He was so caught up with his informants half the time you didn't know if that would ever happen, so whenever he was ready, you'd be there. It irked you to say the least, that somebody else was getting those parts of him but there was nothing you could do.

But that night you two stood outside your front door, talking about your childhood homes and what you loved most about them, you dangling the keys between your fingers as he leaned against the frame and kissed you. His fingers were soft against your cheek and his lips sweet against yours and you didn't know he could be so gentle. You'd seen him kill people before yet here was kissing you as if you'd break under his touch.

"Good night, Javi." You said to him, as you stood on your tiptoes for one last kiss before disappearing into your home, the biggest smile on your face.

Your relationship was what some would call a slow burn. You took things slow, mostly because between the war on drugs neither of you had time to focus on and nurture a relationship. So you remained best friends and coworkers, alongside Steve who sometimes felt like a third wheel. When the two of you did finally find some spare time, things blossomed so quickly and beautifully and the man was head over heels. Steve had a hard time believing it, but he always knew that once Javi found the right one, he'd be 150% all in. Steve loved that it was you that brought out that side of him.

"Bambi, we're rolling out." Carillo said to you. Hearing the nickname is nothing new after all these years, but it still almost makes you laugh sometimes. Who knew having a deer sprint in front of you on your first day in Colombia would get you a call sign that stuck with you for the rest of your career.

"Yes sir." You nodded and stood up from your desk and gathered your things.

"No, no, you're not coming." Javier said.

"Excuse me?" There were very few things Javi did that pissed you off, but the one that did it most was when he tried keeping you from certain jobs.

"This is gonna get ugly and I don't want you there." He rested his hand on your elbow gently.

"You don't get to make that decision. I'm going and I'm monitoring the Search Bloc. This is the one thing I ask you not to do." You lowered your voice, looking up at him.

"And I don't do ever do this, but I don't like the feeling of this." He lowered his tone to match yours. "Por favor, mi sol." (Please, my sun.)

"Javier, don't ask me again." You pulled away from him and followed behind Carillo as you and the rest of the Search Bloc loaded into vehicles and began the journey to Tolú. He knew there was nothing he could say once you called him by his full name.

You and Javi barely spoke the entire ride to Tolú and it should be known that it was a long drive from Medellín. Even though you sat in silence, he still rested his hand on your leg, his thumb rubbing circles onto the fabric of your jeans.

When you stepped out of the vehicles upon your arrival you watched and counted the men that loaded into boats to cross the bay. The plan was to catch them from a direction they wouldn't expect. Javi was going with the aerial team which meant you were splitting up.

"Hey," he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. "Be careful."

"You too."

He would've said the right words if he knew what would happen once you parted ways. He would've said them a long time ago if he had known. He knew it in his gut as he watched you walk away and board the boat alongside Carillo and yet he still let you go. He should've kissed you one more time. It wasn't his right to stop you from going on a job and he knew that. He let you go because of those words that he didn't say.

You and the rest of the Search Bloc trekked through the sand and the thick trees of the jungle quietly, nobody speaking a sound, guns up and ready to fire. You surely looked out of place being the only woman amongst them. A few inches larger and the gun you were holding would've been too big for you to hold comfortably.

You came across two men and the gun fire started almost immediately. This was something you were used to and certainly planned for long before you even landed in Colombia. You knew that once the first shots were fired that Gacha would try to flee.

You held your ground until enough of his men had dropped and it felt safe to start moving in. Half of those men had probably never even fired a gun before this moment. You stayed next to Carillo, taking the first steps out from the treeline only for your body to be thrown through the air as a shot from a rocket launcher hit the ground near you causing a big explosion. Your gun slammed into your face sending a piercing pain through your nose. Your ears were ringing and your vision blurred when you opened your eyes, looking at your surroundings. You felt the blood trickling down the side of your head and tasted it as it leaked from your nose.

"Bambi, are you okay? Hey! Bambi!" You looked up at one of the Search Bloc members attempting to reach you. He pulled you up to which you groaned in pain, and looked to Carillo who also looked to have a head wound. The sound of the voices and gunfire were in and out as your ears kept ringing but you racked your brain trying to focus on what was happening.

"Sí. I'm okay." You sat up and watched Gacha and his son rush down the stairs and into a red chevy parked under the house while Carillo screamed for a radio. You only allowed your body to be in shock from the blow for only a split second more before the shock was filled with anger.

"Wait, Bambi. Wait!" You clenched your teeth together and stood up, repositioning your gun as you shot down multiple men running under the house screaming in frustration as the red chevy pulled off. You fired at the truck, no bullets hitting anywhere that would help stop them.

You fell forward to your knees feeling two shots fly through your shoulder and one through your abdomen from behind. You turned and fired your gun sending three bullets into his chest, falling onto your back once he hit the ground. Multiple men ran past your body, most likely trying to flee like their boss and eventually the gun fire stopped.

You felt somebody's arms hook under yours as they dragged you back to where Carillo was with the radio. He said something along the lines of Bambi... down... tell Javier... it was all a blur.

"He's down. We'll put the bird down and recoup." You heard Javi's voice over the radio, a small smile creeping on your lips. "What's the situation there, is it safe to land?"

Carillo hesitated as he looked down at you drenched in blood he wasn't sure was your own. He knew the blood coming from your head and ears were from the rocket launcher and he could tell you had been shot, he just didn't know where or how many times. Your vest clearly didn't do its job or somehow so unluckily each bullet managed to hit you in a place you weren't protected in.

"Safe to land. Make it quick." Carillo said cupping your cheeks, forcing your eyes to focus on him. The drowsy and somehow slightly smiley look on your face told him all he needed to know. "I need medics."

"They're already on the way. Where's Bambi, put her on." Javier's chest tightened immediately as if he knew. He felt it the second Carillo got on the radio instead of you, he knew it before you even made it into Tulo. His worst nightmare was becoming a reality. "Put Bambi on."

"Hey, stay with me." Carillo slapped your cheeks once your eyes started to close. "Talk to him." He tossed the walkie to Trujillo who began describing everything to Javi except for what state you were in. You could hear Javier's panicked voice flooding the speakers of the walkie sounding angrier than you had ever heard in the entire time you've known him.

"Put her on the fucking radio!" Javi yelled at Trujillo, he had tears brimming his eyes but he didn't dare let a single one spill. Anxiety was flooding his chest at the idea that you weren't okay, but he knew it from the second it happened. "Please tell me she's okay. Please." He begged.

"Trujillo, tell me she's alive. Tell me she's not dead. Please." Javi pleaded.

Everything was in and out of focus, men shuffling around you, Carillo and Trujillo saying your name over and over again, Carillo constantly slapping your cheeks to keep you awake. You hardly noticed that your vest had been pulled off and Carillo was working to keep pressure to your wounds, but you couldn't even tell where the wounds were at that point. You felt numb. Words weren't words anymore and instead just loads of gibberish filling your ears.

"Where are the god damn medics?" You heard Carillo curse. "We're not losing her."

When your surrounding came into focus once again, Javi was running towards you, taking Carillo's place, holding your body close to his.

"Hey, hey." He said with a shaky voice. "Hey, stay with me. Where are the fucking medics!"

"My love," you looked up at him, those words leaving your mouth for the first and maybe the last time, struggling to keep him focus. His brown eyes were filled with fear and that's when it became apparent to you how bad it was. You were shot three times. Everyone was panicking and it clicked that you were possibly dying.

It clicked for Javi that you were possibly dying. That this may be the last time he look into your eyes, or the last time he heard your voice. That when he woke up this morning could've been the last time he'd wake up to your beautiful sleeping face. Or that today would be the last day you two shared coffee from the same mug at work. Or even that Steve and Connie wouldn't have you for dinner this weekend like they promised. He began shaking his head, trying to rid these thoughts. You were drenched in blood like the night he found you on the side of the road, but this time it was yours and that made him feel physically sick.

Carillo was the only one at your sides now as Javi held you in his arms, tears still refusing to fall from his eyes. Everyone moved away to give space to the normally mean man who's love of his life was dying in his arms.

"Don't do this to me, please. Please, baby." He whispered into your hair. "Please, don't leave me."

"It doesn't hurt." You said to him, your hand barely finding his, squeezing it as tightly as you could manage.

"What?" He asked, bringing your fingers to his lips. He didn't care that they were covered in blood.

"It doesn't hurt." You repeated and all he could do was release a shaky breath.

"I love you," You whispered. Your thoughts were barely thoughts anymore but as you approached what seemed to be death, the only thing you thought about what how he needed to hear it from you before you died. You weren't even sure if he heard it and the last thing you thought of before shaking hands with death himself was that you never got to hear him say it to you.

"They're here." Carillo sighed in relief as the sirens from the ambulances sounded. "Peña."

Javi looked at Carillo who was staring at you, so he followed his gaze and it felt like his heart completely stopped beating. Your eyes were shut and there was blood dripping from the side of your mouth, joining the streams that had left your nose and side of your head.

"I love you." He said to you. "I love you." He said it again and then once more after that for good measure, praying to whoever would listen that you heard it at least once before you died because he was sure you were going to die and he hated himself for not saying it sooner.

He watched as they cut your shirt off of you and began working hastily simultaneously lifting you onto a stretcher and rolling you away into an ambulance.

Carillo put his hand on Peña's shoulder and looked at him. Despite the love his life being sent away, and not knowing if you'd survive this, there was still a job to finish. Carillo, Javi and the remaining men filed into trucks and drove to the scene up the road where Gacha and his son had died. Javi felt some sense of relief knowing that this was a big hit to the Medellín Cartel.

As soon as the scene was cleared Javier and Carillo went to the hospital you were being treated in and Javier called into Medellín and Bogota to let them know that you had been injured in the line of duty. Steve and Connie were on the next flight to Tolu from Medellín and there within hours. Carillo was talking to the doctors because Javier couldn't bear to hear the news that you were dead. It would kill him.

"She's out of surgery, in recovery. She's going to be okay. She's strong, they say. You can see her soon." Carillo said to Javier and he nodded, finally taking a seat in the waiting room chair.

"Good." He nodded again, finally covering his face with his hands as the tears he fought so hard to hold back finally spilled from his eyes.

Carillo sat next to him, patting him on the back as he cried silent tears of relief knowing that you had survived.

A few hours passed and Carillo had left to make his way back to Medellín so Javier was alone in the waiting room when the nurse called for him to see you.

"Hey," You said to him, your throat scratchy from the tube they had shoved down it. His heart hurt at the sight of you. Your arm in a sling, stitches in your temple, two small stitches in your nose, and a bruised face to prove that it was in fact broken. And somehow you still made all of that look beautiful.

"Mi sol," Javi whispered as he sat down next to your bed, taking your hand into both of his, kissing each of your fingertips. "I'm so sorry I let this happen."

"It's part of the job." You told him. "I made a mistake out of rage. It's my fault."

He stared at you, "I thought I lost you. They told me you died twice. Twice."

"I had something to fight for." You said, squeezing his hand.

"I am so sorry I didn't say it before and I'm not saying it now just because of the situation pero mi amor, I love you. So fucking much that it makes my chest hurt so bad that I feel like I can't breathe and when I lost you today I regretted not ever saying it to you before." He rambled on and you could subconsciously hear the monitor beeping faster as your heart rate went up. "I love you, mi amor. Mi Bambi. Mi sol."

"I love you too." You said to him and you never meant it more than in that moment after almost losing your life, accepting the idea you'd never see him again. Now that you'd been given a second chance you'd never miss the opportunity to say it again.

He leaned forward, brushing the hair from your face with the gentlest touch, and leaning in for the gentlest kiss being so careful not to hurt your nose or any other part of your body. His thumb rested on your chin as he held it so softly kissing you with such delicacy as if not to break you and it was the most favorite kiss you had shared to date.

Javier stayed with you and a week and a half later you were on a flight home to Medellín for the rest of your recovery period. Not long after that Javier moved in officially where he helped you recover and still stay sane in the midst of not being able to go out in the field. Your dad even came to visit after hearing the news where he met Javi for the first time.

When you were finally cleared to return and leave strictly desk work to re-enter the field, Javi kept you at his side more than usual to which you had to scold him sometimes but could he really help feeling so worried all the time? Nearly losing you was scariest thing he ever experienced in your life and gave him PTSD to which he still had nightmares about.

It took navigating and discussing and finding time between being work husband and wife to actually taking care of and paying attention to your very real and personal relationship, but you finally found the well deserved balance.

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for the request! This was kind of fun to write and it was nice to write something after so long away

#pedro pascal #javier pena narcos #javier pena headcannon #javier pena imagine #narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena #narcos fanfiction

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onlyonetifosi · 10 months

Text

This was requested by @maximeverstappen so i hope you like it <3

The smell of gasoline filled the air as the final race of the Formula 1 season approached. The championship title hung in the balance, and all eyes were on Y/N, the only female driver in the sport, as she prepared to make history. The nerves were palpable as she tightened the straps of her helmet and adjusted her gloves, stealing a quick glance at her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, who stood by her side.

"Je t'aime, mon cœur," Charles whispered, leaning in to give Y/N a kiss on the cheek. "You've got this. Make us proud out there."

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering at the sound of Charles' words and the support in his eyes. "I will, mon amour. For us."

The engines roared to life as the cars lined up on the grid. Y/N could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, fueling her determination. As the lights went out, she pushed the pedal to the metal, her car surging forward with precision. Lap after lap, she fought tooth and nail, her skills and determination shining through. The crowd erupted into cheers as Y/N took the lead.

Meanwhile, Charles, in his Ferrari, was locked in a fierce battle for second place. He skillfully maneuvered through the pack, displaying his extraordinary talent. The championship hung in the balance, and every move on the track mattered.

Finally, the checkered flag waved, signaling the end of the race. Y/N crossed the finish line first, securing the world championship title. Tears of joy filled her eyes as the realization sank in. She had done it. The first-ever female F1 world champion.

Charles pulled up beside her, a mix of pride and happiness evident on his face. He stepped out of his car and walked toward Y/N, engulfing her in a warm embrace. "Je suis si fier de toi, ma championne," he murmured into her ear. "You did it. You've made history."

The roar of the crowd filled the air as YN, the only female Formula 1 driver, stood on the podium, her heart pounding with exhilaration. It was the last race of the season, and she had just won the World Championship. Next to her stood Charles Leclerc, her loving boyfriend and fellow driver, who had finished in second place. The euphoria of victory surged through her veins, but her eyes searched for Charles amidst the jubilant chaos.

The winter break arrived, and Charles planned a vacation for them on a remote, exotic island. He invited his family along, wanting to share this special moment with his loved ones. Y/N felt blessed to be a part of their close-knit circle.

Arriving at the island, they were greeted by pristine beaches, crystal-clear waters, and lush greenery. It was paradise. The group settled into their luxurious villa, and Y/N found herself paired with Charlotte, Charles' older brother Lorenzo's girlfriend, and Kika, Pierre’s girlfriend for a day of exploring and shopping, their laughter filling the air as they perused the colorful stores. Y/N tried on various dresses, twirling in front of the mirror while the girls complimented her every choice.

As they wandered through the vibrant local markets, Y/N couldn't contain her excitement. The colorful fabrics, intricate crafts, and aromatic spices filled her senses. Charlotte smiled at her enthusiasm, knowing what was to come.

"Y/N, you're going to look absolutely stunning," Kika gushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Charles is a lucky man."

Y/N blushed, a soft smile playing on her lips. "And I'm the luckiest woman in the world to have him."

After a day of shopping, Y/N, Kika and Charlotte returned to the villa, only to find it transformed. The backyard was adorned with twinkling lights, flower petals scattered on the ground, and a table set for a romantic dinner. Y/N's heart skipped a beat, realizing what was happening. Charles walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Absolutely stunning," YN replied, leaning back against his chest. "I can't believe we're here."

Charles nuzzled his nose against her ear and whispered, "You deserve every bit of it, mon amour. You've worked so hard for this, and I couldn't be prouder of you."

A warm smile graced YN's lips. "Thank you, Charles. None of this would be possible without your love and support."

He turned her around to face him, his eyes shimmering with adoration. "YN, you've brought so much joy into my life. I can't imagine it without you. Je t'aime plus que tout."

Her heart fluttered at his words, knowing that he meant every syllable. "Je t'aime aussi, Charles," she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

The Leclerc family, together with Pierre and Kika, had become YN's second family, and the vacation solidified their bond even further.

"Mes amis, my family," Charles began, his voice brimming with emotion. "Today, we celebrate YN's incredible achievement, but there is something else that makes this moment even more special."

He dropped to one knee, a small box in his hand, and the gasps of surprise filled the air.

"YN, ma chérie, you've brought so much love and happiness into my life. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Tears welled up in YN's eyes as she nodded vigorously, a radiant smile illuminating her face. "Yes, Charles, a thousand times yes!"

The group erupted in applause and cheers, congratulating the newly engaged couple. Charles slipped the ring onto YN's finger, sealing their love in an eternal bond.

As the night continued, YN found herself wrapped in Charles' arms, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the waves crashing against the shore. They danced, whispering sweet words to each other, promising a future filled with love, laughter, and continued adventures. The night sky sparkled with stars as Y/N and Charles danced under a canopy of fairy lights, their hearts overflowing with love. Their families and friends surrounded them, raising their glasses in celebration.

Charles pulled Y/N closer, whispering sweetly in her ear. "Mon trésor, you've made me the happiest man in the world today. I can't wait to build a future together, to cherish and support you in all that you do."

Y/N beamed, her heart filled with gratitude and love. "And I can't wait to stand by your side, Charles, as we conquer the world together."

In that magical moment, surrounded by their loved ones, YN knew that winning the World Championship was just the beginning of an extraordinary journey they would embark on together.

#charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 drivers x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc

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