#maggies17

[the-wrong-providence]

Hold Me

40s!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,146

Warnings: Fluff | Smoking | Implied Smut (If you squint) | Storms | No Plot

Author’s Note: My entry to @221bshrlocked’s writing challenge (congratulations!). Honestly this has no plot and is just fluff, which I’m not great at writing, so bear with me through this. It’s also not beta’d because I’m too lazy to sort that out. Anyway, thank you for reading!

Lightning struck in the distance. One. Two. Three. Four. Thunder joined it. Y/N lay watching him silently. He hadn’t noticed her wake up, so stood at the window, looking out over the street. The rain poured down, hitting the windowsill and splashing in. It didn’t matter. The warmth from last night's activities had yet to wear off, despite his attire, or lack-thereof. Leaning on the frame, he brought the cigarette up to his lips, taking a long drag before blowing out into the open air. The music in his apartment had yet to fade out, and was playing quietly in the background.  

Stretching, Y/N pulled the sheets further up her body, hiding her nakedness from the draught coming from the open window. She buried her face in the pillow, still smelling her lover’s distinct scent from where he’d been lying. It smelled of smoke and whiskey, a combination she’d grown to love over the months they’d been together. The mattress had become cold from his time spent watching the people on the streets below. “Bucky? Come back to bed,” she murmured, her hand reaching out into the open space.

He turned to look at her, grinning at how sleepy she was. Taking one final drag from the cigarette, he stubbed it out into an ashtray, placed delicately on the windowsill. Bucky wandered back towards the bed, falling down next to her. “I’m right here, what do you want, sweetheart?” He held onto her waist, pulling her body tight against his own. Exhaling heavily, she nestled into his chest, smiling at the memories of the two of them together. His arms wrapped around her, as he pressed gentle kisses to the top of her head. 

“Stay with me? Hold me and never let me go?” She said softly. 

Bucky kept her in place, which wasn’t difficult considering how well she fit beside him. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere sweetheart.” He rasped, enjoying the moment, and the feel of her intertwined with him. There wasn’t a second that went by that he didn’t love the company he kept with her. Staring into her eyes, he knew that there was nowhere he’d rather be. “I love you, Y/N.” He said, running his thumb against her cheekbone. 

Lightning crashed somewhere in the distance, and a few seconds passed before thunder joined it. Bucky noticed Y/N’s lips moving slightly, recalling her habit of counting how far she was from the storm. One. Two. Three. “I love you too.” She replied, smiling softly. “But you need to learn to close the damn window. It gets cold.” She raised her eyebrows as Bucky grinned. Watching his expression turn to a pout, she pressed a kiss to his lips. He glanced at the wide open glass, seeing the water drip onto the floor of the apartment.

“Keeps you in bed longer, don’t it?” Bucky teased, as she hit his chest. 

Her hands lay across him as he smiled down at her. “There are other ways to keep me in bed than freezing me.” Y/N grinned back, resting her chin on him. 

Bucky crooked his eyebrows, knowing exactly what she was suggesting. “Well, I’m sorry for trying to be a gentleman and not wanting to wake you up.” Bucky said, his hands trailing to her hips, where fingers ran circles on her skin.

Sighing into his touch, Y/N placed her forehead on his chest. “My ma’s gonna kill me.” She muttered, sparking a chuckle from Bucky’s soft lips. 

“Not before she kills me. You got nothin’ to worry about, doll.” He countered as she looked up at him. 

“Imagine what she’ll say when I get home.” Y/N said as her smile fell, her hand resting on his cheek. 

He kissed her palm, leaning his forehead on her own. “What’s the worst she can do?” Bucky replied softly, as her leg wrapped around his waist. 

"Forbid me from ever leaving the house again.” She lamented, wrapping her arms around his neck and fiddling with the short hairs on his nape. 

“Then I’ll come to you. There’s nothing she can do that’ll keep me away from you.” He replied, basking in the sound of her small giggle.

He moved onto his back, as Y/N put her head on his chest, listening for the soft beat of his heart. She watched as his head fell back on the pillow, sighing in contentment. Lightning lit up the room again, the rain seemingly getting heavier by the second. Y/N counted. One. Two. Thunder rumbled. Bucky’s eyes were closed, mindlessly listening to the sound of the rain, the sound of water on the wooden floor a sure sign that the window needed to be closed. Nevertheless, he stayed still, the weight of his girl lying on top of him all he needed in the moment. He wouldn’t care if the whole apartment flooded. He would do anything to pause time as it was. 

After a quiet few minutes, he lifted his head, looking down at Y/N. “You’re bein’ unusually quiet.” He grinned as she giggled again. Bucky pulled her up, pressing a kiss to her soft lips. 

“You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you.” She said, pulling away to lean beside him. Her fingers caressed the stubble on his jawline, brushing her thumb gently against his chin. Carefully, she pulled his bottom lip down, causing them to part slowly. He watched her mindless behavior, before the edge of his mouth turned up into a smirk. Catching her wrist, Bucky stopped her hand in its tracks, her attention snapping back to reality. 

She looked into his eyes as he looked back. “Sweetheart,” He began as lightning struck again. “There is nothing I love more than your voice.” Again, thunder rumbled. One. “Don’t ever think you’re disturbing me.” He smiled softly, his lips meeting her fingertips.

Y/N sat up straight and looked out the window, the sky growing darker by the second. “The storm is getting real close.” She faltered, her concern growing. Bucky leant on his elbow as he watched the puddle on the floor spread. He glanced up at her “How am I supposed to get home?” She said, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked back at him.

Scoffing, Bucky ran his fingers down her arm. He bit his bottom lip and looked at her, noticing her genuine worry. “You really think I’d let you go out when it’s chuckin’ it down? Baby, you’re gonna stay right here until the storm ends.” He said, his thumb brushing over her arm, sending goosebumps across Y/N’s skin.

She sighed back, nevertheless smiling. “That could be hours, Buck.”

Bucky grinned. “Well,” His lips moved to her neck, pressing gentle kisses behind her ear. “If your ma is gonna kill me, then I’m glad I could spend my time left with you.”

#maggies17 #fluff #bucky barnes #reader insert #bucky barnes x reader #fanfic #oneshot #drabble #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

[pockcock]

crawlin’ back to you (reiner x reader)

“I tried to move on, but nobody is you.” & “I never should have said that.”

summary: somehow, reiner and you can't get away from each other warnings: smoking, drinking, just very sad reiner, sleepy writer (it is full of mistakes) word count: 1,807

You took a sip of your whisky. This was your third shot this night but you were too sad to get drunk. The burning sensation of whisky was nothing compared to the fire in your heart. I let him hurt me, you thought. I let him and his golden eyes hurt me, use me, and throw me away like a doll. You took another sip. Fuck him. Tears were forming in your eyes. You swallowed hard to ignore them. Fuck him and his golden eyes. Finally, you chugged your drink. Fuck you, Reiner.

As you finished your drink, the bartender came to take your class. “Want the fourth?” he asked. He had been friendly since you sat down and smiling every time he came to pour some drink.

You shrugged. “I won’t say no.”

Pouring into your cup he looked at you with a frisky smile. “You don’t look like a whisky-type girl.”

“Really?” You laughed a little. “What do I look like then?”

“Wine.” He pushed your cup back to you.

You took a cigarette out and lit it. “I used to be a wine girl.” The cigarette was loosely hanging between your lips. “Nowadays I’m y/n.”

Bartender chuckled. “Jean.”

You inhaled the cigarette as he asked. “Who is the guy?”

“Was.” Your words were harsh like the odor of the smoke you just released. “He was my boyfriend.” You took a huge sip off of your drink. “We call it quits.”

“He must’ve been a stupid one since he left a beauty like you.”

You laughed at his compliment. “Thanks. But it was more than just beauty.”

“Tell me,” He said while leaning on the counter. “You’re the only customer for now and I have all the time you need.”

You smiled softly. “It doesn’t have a happy ending.”

Jean smiled wistfully. “Nothing has.”

The smoke of your cigarette was burning your eyes. Or the tears. You couldn’t tell the difference. “He was perfect.” You inhaled slowly. “Everything about him was perfect.” You shook your cigarette in order to get rid of the ashes. “Then, huh. We said things we would never think of.”

You continued. “He had golden eyes. You know, the sunrise has a slightly faded orange color? His eyes were just like that.” A smile formed on your lips. “When he looked, he would see through me. He would see me.” Your hands started shaking as you speak. Ignoring the sensation, you led the cigarette to your lips. “Can you please give me some more?” You asked pointing to your empty glass.

Jean scoffed. “I rather not to, but you need it.”

You continued talking after he poured some more into your glass. “You know, it hurts more since, in thirty-five minutes, it will be my birthday. And I am sure he won’t call or text or whatever.” You smiled. “He usually would insist on being the first one to say ‘happy birthday’ but-”

“Hey,” Jean interrupted. “I need to take care of these two.” You glimpsed right, at where he pointed, two women sat down and they were looking for a bartender. “I will be here as quick as possible.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, raising your glass. “I already have a company.”

He stopped right before he went. “Happy early birthday.”

Twenty minutes later you had smoked 2 more and the third one was a fidget around your fingers. You were no longer drinking because whisky was mixed with the smoke and made you feel nauseous so, you left the money under your glass and waited for Jean to come back. The bar was becoming crowded as time went by, he couldn’t stop by. You were fine though, being alone in a crowd wasn’t so bad. You could have a trip down memory lane.

You thought about Reiner.

He must’ve been home now, doing some commander business as he always did. His distraction was his work, you remembered him working until the sunrise when you fight. He would then come to bed around six, pull you to his chest, and bury his face to your neck. A small ‘sorry’ would fall from his lips as he kissed your neck and you would feel his tears on your shoulders. Those days he wouldn’t let you leave him, even for work. Reiner would cry and kiss you until you forgive him.

This time though, he left you alone.

Trying to get away from your thoughts, you lit your cigarette. As you exhaled the leftover smoke in your lungs, you heard a familiar husky voice.

“I told you to quit.”

Your breath was stuck in your throat. Reiner.

He sat right next to you and took the cigarette from your fingers. “I knew I would find you here,” he inhaled the stump. “But I didn’t know I would find you smoking.”

You were trembling. “I…” You couldn’t even look at him. “I was thinking.”

“About?” He drew in again and leave it in between your fingers.

You frowned. “Anything. Everything.” Your shaky hands were trying to find your mouth. “I-I needed a distraction.”

He hummed. You finally found the courage to look at him. He frowned harshly and put his arms on the counter. You were able to see the dark amber color of his eyes from the side, his golds were darker today. You felt the tears forming in your eyes.

“Why did you come?” You asked but regretted it.

He shook his head with an incomprehensible attitude. “I… I don’t know.” He lifted his head and looked at you. “I just wanted to see you.”

A tear betrayed you and left your eye, trailing down your cheek. “Why?” Your voice was low, almost inaudible.

“Y/n...” He brushed the tear with his thumb. “Please-”

“Why?” You pushed his hand away. “After all the things you have said, why?”

“Finally, Y/n!” You heard Jean’s voice. “Sorry for making you wa- hey, uh... You want another?”

“Yes but make it double.”

As he handed the glass he whispered. “Do you want me to stay?” Jean wasn’t stupid after all.

You shook your head and took a big sip. “Thank you, Jean. I got this.”

You turned to see Reiner, his eyes were locked on Jean like a predator. His jaw was clenched and his golden orbs were burning now. When Jean left, he turned around to meet your eyes. “Who the fuck is he?”

“Why do you care?” You chugged your glass. “He is nicer than you.”

You saw him clenching his jaw and fist. His knuckles were turning white. “Can he satisfy you?”

That was it. “Fuck you, Reiner!” You got up from your chair to leave but his firm hands found your wrist. “Let me go!”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “You are drunk, you can’t go like this.” His lips were so close to your lips, he was afraid that someone might hear you. “Look, I’m sorry. Let me drive you home, then you can scream all you want.”

Home is not home anymore, you thought. “No.” Not without you.

He pleaded one more time. “Please.” His voice sounded hurt. “Please, y/n.”

“Fine.” You freed yourself from his grip. You wanted this shitshow to be over.

After paying for your drinks and saying goodbye to Jean, you were in his car which smelled just like him. You didn’t say anything during the ride, didn’t even look at him. You were angry and sad. Reiner disrespected you and you felt disgusted.

“I’m sorry,” He spoke as he pulled over in front of your house. “It was disrespectful.”

“Glad you realized.” You were ready to get off when he locked the doors. “Hey!” You turned to him yet you never expected what you saw. You couldn’t move. You were angry, yes, but you could never ignore the effect of his eyes on you. You’d know they were looking at you, within you.

“Please, listen to me.” Reiner touched your hand hesitantly. Your eyes found his, they were glistening yet his golden eyes were now looking faded. “I need you to listen.”

When you stayed silent, he continued.

“I tried.” He moved his eyes from you as soon as he started talking, he was looking disgusted. “I tried to move on.” His grip on your hand was getting firmer. “I said to myself ‘she is not the only one’. But I couldn’t…” His eyes, filled with tears and sorrow, finally met yours. “I tried to move on, but nobody is you.”

A tear left your eye, you didn’t even realize it was there before. “Reiner…”

“Let me finish and say what you want, please.” He inhaled. “I hate waking up without you. And it’s not just because I got used to you, no.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I can’t sleep knowing the fact that I won’t get to see you in the morning.” His hand left your hand and landed on your cheek. “I-” He was choking due to his tears. “I can’t live without you.”

Your tears were now running onto his hand. “I want to forgive you.” You closed your eyes, pulling yourself away from him. “I really do, but I shouldn’t.”

He was sobbing. “Why?”

“You hurt me.” Your hands were on your chest, your heart was aching. “You burned my heart. You knew what to say, or what not to say, and you hurt me.” A sob escaped your lips. “I shouldn’t forgive you. I cannot forgive you. ”

He took his hands away from you. Please don’t. “I see. I’m sorry.”

You two sat in his car for an uncomfortable amount of time. He then suddenly turned around to get a package from the backseats of his car. “I’m sorry,” he said while placing the box into your hands. “I wanted this to be more special, this is your birthday after all.” He was embarrassed.

“Happy birthday.”

Why are you doing this to me? “Reiner, I-”

He interrupted your words. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Your teary eyes were blocking your vision yet you managed to (somehow) carefully opened the package to reveal a beautiful designer box, you knew the brand. Your shaky hands lifted the lid and there was a beautiful watch with a hand-written note.

time stops when you smile. please smile and let me live in that moment. i love you. -r

“Reiner…”

He took your hand and placed a kiss on it. He was hiding his face so that you couldn’t see his teary eyes. “I wanted to give you something beautiful but I couldn’t.” He rubbed meaningless circles with his thumb and kissed your hand one more time. “I know that you cannot forgive me. But can’t we start over?”

You reached to his chin and lifted his head. You smiled, he smiled. “We can try.”

...

a/n: Hi! This is my first EVER English fic and I am super nervous. It is currently 7:35 AM and I should be sleeping but NOOO. It's probably really bad, but hey! I tried. I also couldn't really finish because I couldn't come up with a good idea. AGAIN! I WROTE THIS AT 7:35 NO SLEEP.

Thanks to @221bshrlocked I found the courage to write some things (I hope you accept AOT fics). HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!

© 2021 sunshinedragonofthewest. All rights reserved. Do not modify, copy, repost my work.

#maggies17 #snk reiner #reiner x reader #shingeki no kyojin reiner #reiner braun #shingeki no kyojin s4 #attack on titan season 4 #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #angst

[generallybrontidefeelings]

News for you

A/N: OKAY, gave myself a break to write this lil thing because I needed some fluff from the angst pit I dug myself into. Written for @221bshrlocked #maggies17 writing challenge! Thank you for the prompt, madam, I had fun with this :) also any mistakes belong to me!

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader, Javier Peña x you

Summery: Javi and Steve recruit you, a humble photographer, for a hop, skip, and a jump of a mission. It goes sideways. 

Prompt: 66 “I’ve decided to write a how-to manual and you’re going to be the ‘what not to do’ example.”

Warnings: unbeta’d. T rating, a swear word? Tension, adrenaline! fluff, hiding in the trunk of a car? Protective DEA agents. A smooch! A very self-indulgent comfort fic

Words: ~3K ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Javier-ommph.” His shoulders bonked your nose as he turned himself over and around in the trunk of the bronco, further squishing you between himself and Steve. “It’s been three hours. If no one shows up, I’m going to kill you!”

“Okay, honey, later,” he mumbled, looking past you out the rearview window. Low yellow light from the Bogotà street lamps hit his eyes and left the rest of his face in the shadows. His chest rose and fell as he scanned outside, past your head. Behind you, you hear Steve fiddling with his sidearm, clicking the cylinder into place. It’s the lowness, the calming choice of words that make the situation really click for you. 

You had stayed as still as you could on your side, sandwiched between the DEA agents’ shoulders. Imagining yourself cartoonishly small helped the awkwardness of having to choose between your ass bumping Steve’s hip, and your thigh lying against Javi’s. The three of you lie very still, listening. 

This wasn’t your job. Your job was to sit in the CIA designated office, walk files back and forth between offices, and develop crime scene photos. That was it. It was not as Javi had phrased it ‘doing us a huge favor’ by playing ‘date’ for the evening so he and Murphy could discreetly plant a camera in a hotel room across the way from some sicario’s hideaway. Without thinking too much about it, you tucked your nose against Javi’s shoulder and worked on compartmentalizing what was happening around you. He smelled like faded vetiver, the orange he’d eaten while waiting for Steve to install the tiny camera, and sweat drawn on by the humidity. He met your eyes, glowing sharp and dark under the lamplight, and you saw his apology in them. 

The back of the bronco opened you inhaled sharply and squeezed your eyes shut, yelping as Javi’s whole body lands on you, and preparing for noise.

“It’s clear, agents, you can come out.”

The image Carillo found when he opened the trunk would have been comical. The gringos bodies squished impossibly in the trunk of the Bronco; Murphy and his dumbass long legs curled upward like a dried-out harvestman blinking in the flashlight glare, and behind him, Peña practically lying on top of a you - a woman he vaguely recognized from the embassy if he squinted. And it didn’t look like the way Peña normally lied over women. Your face heated up under the warm flashlights and your own welling relief. 

When the car door started rattling, Javier had tried to crawl over you and push you behind him, or under him, somewhere not as vulnerable. But in the cramped quarters, he’d only gotten as far as moving his back completely on top of you so you were the big spoon - a big spoon who was near suffocating and panicking. His ass fell heavily into your hip bone, sending a shooting pain down your leg. All you could see was Javi’s shoulder, and the blinding flashlights of the Search Bloc men. 

“Did you get the camera installed?” Carillo asks, as you try to stay still under Javi’s deadweight.

“Yeah, it’s in.” His voice reverberates through you, and you want to smack him for dragging you into this situation. 

“You better get up, Peña, or you’ll suffocate that poor woman.” Your eyes popped open, and you gave in, smacking Javi on the shoulder until he moved. You hissed when you tried to sit up, your hip burning and calve cramping at the same time. The flashlights died, and you were back to sitting in the orange hued shadows inside the Bronco trunk. 

“All right, lady?” Steve asked, hanging his legs off the trunk of the car. Men with rifles stalk around the vehicle, one reporting to Carillo, another two keeping sharp eyes out. It’s quiet for the amount of bodies milling around.  

“Yeah-ow. I’ll be okay.” Javi was moving quietly, looking apologetic, glancing between your sore hip and your face. 

“You’re heavy, Peña,” you say, more to let him know you’re all right, all right enough to give him shit. His lips quirked up a little, and he let his body stretch out, leaning on the trunk ledge. You gently massaged the area that hurt while Javi and Carillo talked together, only catching a few words here and there. It feels like forever later, you sandwiched again sitting on the edge of the trunk between Steve and Javi, swinging your sneakers in little arcs, trying to control your facial expressions. You see Carillo jerk his chin at you, and Javi looks you over before answering. In an unexpected display, Carillo smacks Javi on the shoulder as well, saying what you guess is an expletive before turning and gathering his men. 

“Okay, here’s where we are.” Javi leans on the trunk bed again and bumps your shoulder with his. “The camera is on and transmitting, which is good. Bad news is the sicarios are on alert. Search Bloc wants to escort us home while they keep up the hunt.” 

“Do you own a gun?” Murphy’s question breaks your staring. 

“No, not yet. I meant to…” you trail off as he shakes his head. You know it’s stupid of you not to have any protection. This is Colombia, and you’re a single woman on American government paycheck. You finish lamely, holding your elbows: “I meant to get one.” 

“If they saw her they might be looking for her. Have her stay with you for the night.” 

Javi’s eyebrows raise imperceptibly. You want to say ‘no thank you’ and ‘let’s do it’ all at once. He got you into this mess anyway. 

“Sure, that’s fine.” You let out the breath you’re holding, actually relieved. You didn’t want to go home to your lonely, dark apartment after this. Not for a little while. 

Search Bloc escorts the three of you back to the apartment complex, and you’re ushered inside the building one group at a time. 

“Play nice,” Steve mumbles as he steps out of the bronco for his turn into the building. You watch him saunter in under the harsh lamplight. 

The driver calls back some directions, then takes off driving. You turn to Javi in the backseat, distress written across your face. 

“He says we’re going around the block a couple times then they’ll take us in. Relax,” he suggests, and without preamble, slips his hand around your folded ones in your lap. 

It’s a tense ride. Every corner you close your eyes and take a slow controlled breath. And every time Javi’s hand squeezes yours, the other wrapped around the grip of his sidearm. When the Search Bloc boys bring you back to the complex your sneakers scrape against the pavement up the stairs, then against the hardwood until Javi’s door clicks shut behind you. Then, only then, do you give in to your body's demand to breathe deeply. 

You gather your surroundings - it’s a cushy place, raised kitchen leading back to a bedroom and recessed living area. It would be homey if not for the messes on every surface; mostly cigarette packages, cassette tapes, half-empty glasses. The domesticity distracts you from the reality outside, of tire treads rushing through water run-off along the road. Headlights sweep across the edges of the ceiling to illuminate and fracture the room. It’s exactly what you expect for Javier Peña.

“Is your hip all right?” Javi is lighting a cigarette, but watching you intently. You lift your left leg a bit and shake it. Only a lingering ache remains. 

“It’s fine. A bath will help it,” you say. He nods and puffs out the smoke. You don’t know what to do, so you reach behind you and hook your fingers into the waistline of your skirt and look anywhere but him. The swish follows you down to the couch where you sit, and absently fiddle with the fabric. 

“I know that was more than I asked of you, and I appreciate it.” He pushes his stacks of magazines back into tissues and a crystal ashtray so he can sit on the coffee table. “You did well under pressure.” 

“I belong in a lab, Peña,” you say, leaning your chin on your knuckles. “I’m glad I could help, but don’t ask me to do that again. Ever.” 

“Cross my heart.” 

You smile at him. He’s stupidly handsome; he’d caught your eye the day you’d begun working in the embassy halls in the CIA rooms. You did your part, telling him ‘no’, and pulling confidential files out of his hands, and exchanging barbs daily. But that didn’t stop the tender flame of attraction that grew; you knew it wasn’t your place to harbour it, especially when the rumors of how he behaved with informants reached your ears. It didn’t matter, you decided. It didn’t dissuade you, so you let that little flame smolder freely, content to do your work and content to treat him as Agent Peña. Now in his living room, in the fluorescent kitchen lamplight, you wish all that would go away so you could sleep on his couch in peace. 

He didn’t help, calling you ‘honey’ and leaning on your desk to sweetly ask for specific rolls to be developed before others. He didn’t help at all, jamming his foot in the dark room door before you locked it, asking in his softest voice if he could get a look at them before anyone else did. And he helped the least when in his enthusiasm at whatever break he found in the photos, he’d draw you in by your shirt sleeve and press a grateful kiss to your temple before scribbling down whatever connection he had made. You were always grateful for the red lights hiding the heat that rose under your skin. 

“Do you have any spare blankets?” 

He looks around, like it’s the first time anyone’s asked him. “No, I don’t.” 

“Not even a throw?” Exhaustion leaks into your tone. It’s nearly midnight, and you just want to sleep. Javi stands and shrugs his jacket off. He extends his hand and you take it, letting him lead you down the hall to his bedroom. It’s neat, smells faintly of his cologne and smoke and soap. Before you knew it, he was pushing a big t-shirt into your hands and sitting himself on the bed’s edge to undress. You took the opposite edge, gingerly taking your sneakers off and groaning at the relief of being able to wiggle your toes. 

You decide modesty is for people who don’t identify drug cartel hired guns for a grocery money, and slide into Javi’s bedsheets in your underwear and his borrowed t-shirt. The light in the room clicks off, and you listen to Javi rustle around getting comfortable with your eyes closed. His hand lands on your thigh over the blankets. 

“You’re okay,” he says low, and you respond by resting your hand on top of his wrist as you drift into sleep.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How you got here

“It would just be for a couple hours,” Javi had said, standing over your desk with Steve and your supervisor. Murphy did his part playing skeptic, arms crossed, and his striped tie on too tight. Your supervisor mirrored him, glaring at Peña for asking for such a favor. A big favor. Dark room specialists don’t grow on trees, and you had rolls of film to get processing today. 

“Why can’t one of your informants do this?” your supervisor asks. You raise your eyebrows at Javi. 

“Well, an informant you have to pay.” Murphy tilts his head to the side. Uncle Sam’s purse strings had been a little tight this quarter. “And she’s already on payroll.” 

“It’s up to you,” your super says, leaving you under the hopeful stares of Javi and Steve.

“Look,” Javi leans on your desk, getting low enough to make the conversation private, “you don’t have to do anything dangerous. All we need is to use the hotel room to set up a camera looking into an apartment across the street. You would give us a plausible reason to be entering the hotel, and could help us identify the guy if he shows up. So we’re shooting in the right direction.” 

You squint at Javi. He’s playing the biggest puppy-dog eyes you’ve ever seen. Crossing your arms on your desk, you lean forward so you’re even closer to his face, close enough to smell the last cigarette he had was at least an hour ago. “Do you need help setting up the equipment?” 

The twitch in his cheek tells you everything, just as Murphy answers “yes.” 

“Okay, I’ll bite, fellas.” 

“It will be in and out, honey. Shouldn’t be more than two hours.” His eyes are reassuring as you grab your handbag. 

The hotel clerk speaks with Javi as Murphy stands at your side with a hand lying stiffly on your waist, an appropriate distance from anything intimate, and just firm enough to give the impression of a pleasant couple. 

He gets a key, and the three of you reach the room without a hitch. You help Murphy get the little camera up and transmitting. Javi keeps an eye by the window, looking out the translucent curtains. 

“Bad news. Fuck,” Javi murmurs, and it makes your blood go cold. Murphy stops packing up the bag your equipment had come in and kicks it under the room bed. “We gotta get to the car.” Murphy reaches for the phone, dialing. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask anyone. It’s too vague, you can’t tell what the private language of partners is communicating to one another. 

Javi left the window, signaling to Steve to hurry up with his phone call. “Someone ratted on us, we need to get moving.”  

“I thought you said this wouldn’t be dangerous,” you hiss at him. You see him huff in frustration, and immediately feel bad. “Javi…”

He smooths his hand under your elbow. “Honey, I’m sorry.” 

The three of you make a graceless exit out the back service stairs into the Bogotà twilight, street lamps already on painting things in hazy greens to the humming of cicadas. Your sneakers whisper on the pavement, one hand gripping the back of Javi’s jacket; you feel silly doing it, but you don’t want to lose him, even if he’s inches in front of you. Steps away from the car, your heart is beating loud enough you barely heard the agents agree on where to lay low.  

“Trunk?” Murphy whispered. He had one hand hovering on the center of your back, the other on his revolver. 

Javi flicked his head to his partner, nodding. “Trunk.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Where you ended up

You woke up because something radiating heat was just downright uncomfortable in the already unbearable Colombian humidity. You wiggled into cooler sheets, only it followed you. 

You realized it was because it was an arm, thrown over your middle. As carefully as you could, you looked over your shoulder to the owner of the arm. 

Light trailed in through the gauzy blue curtains, backlighting Javi’s features and bare chest, laying shadows across his slack face. Uninterrupted by his chatting and clothing, you let yourself take him in; a soft chest inflating rhythmically, and a broad shoulder that collapsed on itself, either from weight, or it’s reach for your own body. You turned back over and nuzzled into the pillow, happy you’d led him lead you to his bed to sleep next to him. You couldn’t imagine being able to sleep soundly without someone there after hiding for your life for hours. A shudder runs through you at the thought, triggering Javi’s breathing to hitch and he draws you closer. 

“Javi,” you murmur in warning. He’s really too warm. He groans back at you, palming your hip but not removing his arm, and you push a little into his hand. “Is there a manual for making quick exits?”

“You gonna run away, baby?” You preen a little under the name, and compensate by pressing your heating cheek into the pillow. 

“No,” you say, letting your eyes fall closed and just enjoying the feel of his thumb brushing over the back of your hip bone through his old shirt. “But I’ve decided to write a how-to manual and you’re going to be the ‘what not to do’ example.”

He shuffles closer to you so you’re leg to leg. “Yeah? For what?” 

You send your top leg out so he can rest his bare thigh between yours. You start in a sing-song voice: “‘What not to do for an effective escape: don’t bring an extra person with you when your means of escape is a car trunk that only fits two bodies, not three.”

“You fit just fine,” he says, and you shiver at his nose bumping your clothed shoulder. 

“I was squished.” 

He snorts. “I got news for you: you lived. Even if you got squished. That’s what I call effective.” You hum when you feel him lift over you and press a kiss to your temple, then your cheek. Turning your head you graze his lips with yours while finding his eyes. They’re still sleepy, not quite open all the way. You don’t even have to lift your head to press your mouth to his warm pliant one, and he returns it gently; it’s different from the excited affectionate ones he plants on your head in the darkroom. You just want to let him know you are alive, and grateful. It’s fleeting, and you know in a week or so it will crack your heart a little more.He breaks it first, pressing a second, then a third into your lips, telling you he understands. 

He lies back behind you, pulling your frame against him, into his warm chest. “Go back to sleep, honey.” 

You pull the sheet around your chin and enjoy the sensation of being held by Javi, if only for a couple more hours. 

Tomorrow you’ll be back at the embassy, explaining your role in a DEA operation turned Colombian military operation to your superior, and you’ll be thinking about how Agent Peña is a much better big spoon than you are. 

#maggies17 #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña #fanfiction #narcos #writing challenge #fluff #it's mostly fluff and a smooch #it's really self-indulgent #narcos fanfic #narcos netflix #steve murphy #steve! #javier peña #horacio carrillo #@221bshrlocked

[otherthingsinhead]

It’s Din

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, fluff, language, sex pollen, dub/con due to the pollen, light masturbation and vaginal fingering, un-fucking-protected sex, rough sex, penetrative sex, creampie, shower sex    

Words: 3.5k

A/N: This is part of @221bshrlocked​ Maggie’s Writing Challenge. Prompt: #37 “Can I kiss you right now?” Theme: sex pollen. It really is just a pwp fic but I enjoyed writing it a lot. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as well. 

Summary: You don’t know much about your employer even if you have been traveling with him from bounty to bounty for months. However it doesn’t seem to stop you from developing a devastating crush on him meanwhile being completely clueless about the butterflies he is struggling with whenever you cast a smile at him. It is only until you got that extra “little” push in the form of one of the most dreaded poison ever: sex pollen. 

Your body is on fire. 

The lukewarm water flows steadily down your skin, cascading and crashing onto the floor in a hypnotic rhythm. It must be over soon, the water should help to ease this need, this aching, annoying, frustrating need pulsing between your legs.

You steady your trembling hands by pressing them on the wall in front of you and focus on filling your lungs with the humid air then breathing it out through trembling lips.

The ventilation system must have already got rid of all the pollen that got into the Razor Crest when you landed on a field of those devilish flowers and even if you still got infected, it can’t possibly be that serious. Mando seemed perfectly fine when you left him in the cockpit, after all.

“Let me in.” 

His voice is getting louder, more demanding and even more desperate as he is trying to lure you out of the freshener. You hear yourself asking for another minute before the banging noise stops, and you slowly drift back into the monotone sound of water splashing around you. 

You only startle when the lights go off and the room plunges into complete darkness. You hear heavy, rapid footsteps approaching and then a husky, swift announcement before the door cracks open.

Your common sense is fogged with the madness that has been raging in your system but you are absolutely positive that there is no light coming from the hull either. Nowhere is a beam of light shining through a window, no hazard lamps blinking, nothing but complete darkness. Which can mean only two things: either you went blind or the main fuse has been switched off. 

Before you can even register the reason why Mando would send the whole ship into blackness, you hear metal clanking and fabric rustling and then a heavy sigh above your head. “Move aside.” 

Everything happens so fast, you barely manage to press yourself up against one side of the cabin before Mando takes your place under the shower. He lets out a shaky exhale when the water touches his skin and you instantly realize how big of a trouble you just got yourself into. The scent of his heated body floods your nostrils, making you shiver harder against the wall. You want to lean into it, to feel more, to touch... Fuck. You need to touch yourself. 

You know you're making a mistake when you decide to give in to the temptation but it's like a wall has emerged between your body and your mind, you are doomed to failure when it comes to self-control.

Trying to take as little space as possible you slide a hand between your thighs and Maker, it feels incredible! 

Your folds are dripping and your clit is swollen, desperate for the attention it's been denied for so long. The hand you drape over your mouth is only enough to muffle your neediness as you are stroking yourself in a slow, steady rhythm but it can’t hide the small noises coming from your throat. 

Your companion is a little quieter than you but the shaky breaths he occasionally let’s out makes you wonder if he's touching himself too. The thought itself sends a jolt of electricity through you and with the tremble that shakes your body you accidentally bump your ass into him. “I’m sorry,” you say, almost voicelessly. “I can’t, I’m—mmm… I’m so sorry.” 

“You h—uh, have to leave. Now, before it’s too late.”

He doesn't try to sound like he is threatening you but his voice holds a dangerous vibe that only turns you on even more. As if you got paralyzed, your body finds itself completely immobile when you want to move and stars! How much you want to move, to turn around and take advantage of the situation. It would be so easy to blame it all on the pollen afterwards. Easier than to admit your true feelings for the Mandalorian, only to get rejected on the spot. Because even if you consider yourself good at reading others, you are completely clueless when it comes to the Mandalorian.

And now you are completely still, unable to make yourself move, not when he's standing inches away from you, naked and probably just as aroused as you are. 

“Please,” you hear him say and your stomach drops at how shaky he sounds.

“Right,” you agree reluctantly and muster all your willpower to take a step back when you trip over something and stumble backwards. The next thing you know you are held by two powerful arms. One wrapped around your rib cage, and another one gripping harshly into the flesh on your hips. 

Shit, if you thought your body was on fire then now it feels like ice compared to his skin. His chest is flush against your back and his heart is drumming heavily inside it. He wasn't prepared for the sensation but after the gut-wrenching moment he quickly adjusts to the feeling and  just wants to accept the inevitable, wants to welcome that feeling and embrace it, wants to dive into the experience of merging with your body but he wants you to want it too.

You gasp as the embrace gets tighter around you and you feel the thick, long proof of his arousal hard against the small of your back. “Fuck Mando, I need it… I know you need it too,” you whine and squirm shamelessly with your naked ass in his lap. “It’s just… fuck, I need it so fucking much.”

He keeps your body tightly to his own while listening to your begging and growling his own frustration into your neck. “It’s just the pollen that m—makes you say that. I can’t take… take advantage.” 

He speaks with sense and reasons but he doesn’t have control over his body. As if it has its own will, his hand moves and cups one of your breasts, wrapping long fingers around the soft swell and squeezing it in a gentle but strong grip.  

He doesn't even flinch when he hears you whimper. Your body reacts to his touch in a way he has never experienced before. 

“It’s not just the—ah, not the pollen and you… know that. You must know that,” you say, cupping his hand on your breast and trying to arch your back so you can lean into the touch.

It's been a week now since you got sick. You were stuck in bed, hanging by a thread between life and death. Mando took care of you, being at your side day and night. A small cough couldn’t escape your throat unnoticed. Sometimes you woke up in the middle of the night with only a soft gasp and he would jump from his sleep to hush you, to cool your fever with a wet cloth, but sometimes…

Sometimes you woke up with a small shriek, rambling and tossing around under the sheets and he would stay on the floor motionless, pretending to be asleep. Those dreams were not nightmares. They were dreams about him. Wet, heated, erotic dreams.

He never mentioned those nights, of course, and you never felt obligated to raise the issue either, but… There is this hidden tension building and stretching between the two of you ever since, threatening to explode in any possible moment. 

“I can’t promise I’ll be gentle, I’m afraid I’d—”

“I don’t… want you to be gentle,” you whine and hate how needy you sound but can't stop yourself from pushing his other hand from your hip until you feel his fingers slide between your folds. 

The moan he lets out is ethereal. Long and deep and causes every cell in your body to become ten times more sensitive. Your pussy clenches around one, then two digits before he starts rubbing you up and down, smearing your slippery wetness over your clit in light, agonizingly unhurried circles.

“Mando, please,” you beg, quivering from the delicious friction between your thighs and grateful for the darkness that hides your face, twisting in some indescribable pleasure. “I need y—, I need you t—uh...” 

Your head falls back to his shoulder as his teeth scrape along your neck and your body tense up. Your orgasm comes so quickly, so unexpectedly, it takes you both by surprise. You cum with a long, shuddering moan then slump back against his chest, panting heavily, satisfied but still needing more. 

You have no time to recover from your shock. He grabs you by your hips and a sharp gasp suddenly hitches in your throat as you get pushed against the wall. Not that you have any intention to resist but your body is more obedient to him than you would have imagined. Legs already parting, hips bucking upward to him for better access.  

“Is it safe,” he asks, gliding the tip of his cock along your slits, teasing your entrance but careful not to bury inside you.

“Yes,” you assure him, impatiently rocking your hips to meet his slow, testing thrusts.

“You—you can’t be pregna—uuh!” 

His deep groan follows yours as you finally manage to nudge his head between your folds and get him where you need him the most. His hard, thick cock fills you completely and you feel a rush of painful pleasure exploding through your body. 

He quickly retreats to almost coming all the way out but his self-control has already snapped and immediately, he slams back into you again.  

“You have to… if you… j—just tell me t—uh… to stop,” he breathes, fucking you ruthlessly against the damp, cold metal. As he has promised he is not gentle but the pain crumbles away into pleasure as you slowly adjust to his size. 

The water is still pouring down on you, keeping you anchored to reality while you slowly slip into a daze of pure ecstasy. Everything is dull but the sheer euphoria that engulfs your senses. The sound of your wet cunt, your dried throat, his tight groans, the hot tears on your cheeks, the heavy air in your lungs, his powerful thrusts twisting your insides with the promise of another release. Your muscles flutter around his cock as your climax approaches when all of a sudden, he stops. 

“M—Mando?”

“S—so warm, so f—uh, feels so warm,” he mumbles softly, breathing hot air behind your ear and raising goosebumps along your neck. You try to move, to push yourself lower on his cock when you realize he is already cumming, squirting his load all inside your pussy. 

“It’s okay,” you say, sighing out a long exhale. “We can… we can wait unt—” You gasp surprised when he starts moving again, still hard and greedy for more.

“Tell me… tell me to st—stop.”

You're not sure if it's an offer or if he's begging you to put an end to it all. Although you're not sure either if he really could just stop if you asked him. His hands holding you so firmly you are afraid they are going to leave a lingering pain for days on your skin. 

But you don't want it to be over, you want more, you want him to stay buried and keep rocking into you, to keep making you feel wanted, needed the way you need him too. 

He hurts so good you almost faint when he grabs one of your thighs and hoists your leg from the floor, allowing him to go deeper with his thrusts. 

“H—hold me, hold me—I…”

“Got you, I got you.” 

Your pussy clenches again, writhing your body with the sensation of your second orgasm and bringing him closer to his own. Toes barely touch the floor as he holds your entire weight in his arms, keeping your body flushed between the cold metal and his heated, wet skin as he is pumping his own release into your drenched pussy. 

He pulls out and for the first time since he has buried himself inside you, you feel emptiness. 

“Want me to stop now?” He sounds tired, but his cock feels hard and demanding against your butt. “You have to tell me.”

The urge is still throbbing between your legs but you keep panting quietly in the darkness. You feel the hot cum oozing out of you, running down your thighs and without even realizing, you reach down to coat your fingers with it, then lick them clean with a hungry moan. 

“Damn it, you have to… you have to tell me to stop if—" 

“I can’t… I can’t f—uh, fucking stand.” Your knees are trembling, even though they're barely holding any of your weight. 

You hear a squeaking noise and the water stops. The darkness falls silent around you and for a moment you feel like you are falling. Mando takes a step back and your body seems to give up and let you collapse on the floor. Instead, you are scooped up in strong arms then get laid gently on the floor. 

You still feel it, the unquenchable desire continuously humming in your body and when Mando wedges himself between your legs, you can't help but let out a shaky, relaxed chuckle.

He buries his head in your neck and finds your heated core again, wasting no time to push back inside you.

He remembers those nights. The memories are etched deep in his mind, hunting him every dreamless night ever since. He remembers how helpless he was, watching your weakened body fighting with the disease and not being able to save you from the misery. He remembers how scared he was that he would lose you forever, that you would die and leave him alone with a void in his heart, with an unconfessed emotion to slowly eat him away. 

He remembers those nights. How could he forget? He remembers laying on the floor with his heart slamming out of its beskar cage, listening to the noises you made while trembling under the blankets, begging for him to touch you, to kiss you. He remembers the way you moaned his name. The only name you have for him. Mando.

“Din.” 

“What?”

“My name,” he murmurs into your neck between slow thrusts. “It’s Din.”

“Din,” you repeat quietly and feel him shiver against your body. What a perfect name for him. Simple and short and rolls effortlessly from your tongue. “Din,” you try again, louder, curling your fingers through his damp curls. “I like it.”

You keep him close, draping your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist as he keeps fucking you deep and hard into the wet floor. You are absolutely wrecked. Your mind keeps blacking out as you reach your high over and over again until you can’t take any more.

He is still hard, you can feel it. His thrusts are getting slower, sloppier but he is still tirelessly rocking into you.

“I need… ugh, please I need to—uh… stop.”

As if you have just spelled some kind of magic, his hips stiffen and then you are empty again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes! Yes, I just… I don’t think I can… I can cum any more.” 

He lets out a relieved sigh and lowers his head to your chest, letting his tired body relax and slump on top of yours. Now it’s your turn to hold his weight and you don't mind it at all but he remains silent, making you wonder. “Are… you all right?”

“Yes,” comes the simple answer and then there’s silence again. 

“I—I can use my… if… if you’re still…I can—”

“No, I—” he cuts you off hastily, pushing himself back on his elbows. “I can’t cum any more either.”

Your bodies slowly find their peace in each other's arms as silence falls over the room again. No one moves a muscle, only your chests rise and fall with heavy breaths.

“Mando?” You finally break the silence and his heart quickens.

“Yes,” he whispers softly, brushing his fingertips across your cheeks and framing your face in his hands. Silence begins to build again but before you could change your mind you muster up the courage and take a deep breath.

“Can I kiss you right now?” 

Your cheeks instantly flare up with heat. He can’t see you, you know that for sure but you feel like he is staring straight into your eyes. It’s weird how nervous you get, asking for a kiss after just having him fuck you senseless on the floor but somehow kissing seems more intimate, as if you are pushing the limits of the Mandalorian code.

His forehead pressing against yours is what jolts you from your embarrassed state. Your head tilts back and you feel warmth first, then the touch of his lips upon yours.

His body shudders and goosebumps arise under your touch. It’s a short kiss, light and soft but it’s also very sweet and innocent. 

Slowly, he eases his mouth away and hums as he presses it back again, more firmly but still so tenderly. You can’t help but smile as he places kiss after kiss on your mouth, and you can feel his excitement grow with every one of them. 

His hair curls around your fingers when you thread both your hands into his hair and try to deepen the kiss but he keeps pecking on your mouth as if… 

Wait a minute. 

“Am I… not doing it right,” he asks, sensing your reluctance to continue what he believes is making out with him. 

“N-no, no, you’re… you’re doing it sweet,” you smile and your heart wants to burst with the affection you’ve been keeping locked deep in it.  “Have you not… been kissed before?”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles dryly, arms trembling beneath him as the exhaustion and the thrill of his first kiss weights down on him at once. “No one touched my face since I was a boy.”

Your chest tightens at his words. You want to grab him and pepper his face with kisses until there’s not a single spot left untouched. Instead, you push him gently and sit up. 

Your hands travel cautiously from his shoulders to his neck, fingertips brushing against a soft bristle as you reach his jaw but all of a sudden, your wrists get caught in his hands. Both your breaths hitch for a tense moment then he hums out a soft breath as he snuggles his head into the palm of your hands. 

He melts into your touch and cradles you closer, wrapping his naked body around yours. His mouth stretches wider when he hears you whisper his name and you can’t help but wonder if his smile is as big as it feels. He must have a wonderful smile.

When you kiss him again, it’s unhurried and restrained. You take your time cherishing his lips with open mouthed kisses before you rub your tongue along them. He groans at the sensation and follows your lead, sticking out his tongue to taste yours.

Occasionally he stops to apologize when your teeth clash or your noses bump, or even when you pull away to catch your breath but he learns quickly. Gradually, he lets his instincts take him over and kisses you deep and passionately, molding his lips to yours with a childish hunger.  

“You’re shivering,” he says, making you whine when he pulls away. You pout in protest which is clearly inefficient in a completely dark environment so you make sure your arms around his shoulders are tight enough to keep him close. 

“I’m fine,” you insist but he only grunts disapprovingly as he pulls you up to your feet and turns the shower on again. You are tired and cold and he will not let you be sick again.

The water feels nice and warm on your skin and getting back on your feet makes you quickly realize how weak and Maker, how dirty you really are. Your thighs are sticky and you feel cum gushes from your cunt and runs down your legs. 

“Let’s get us clean first so we can...” He trails off and you know what comes next.

“So we can go after that quarry you just got, the one with no chain code, right,” you suggest, trying not to hiss as you are rubbing yourself clean. Stars, you are going to feel him for days, aren’t you?

“I’ve already set the coordinates. We’ll be on Arvala-7 in a few hours so we can…” he suddenly gets shy. “I-I was thinking we could… eat?”

“Oh.” You frown, wrapping yourself into the towel you found hanging by the sink after handing one to him as well. “Um… yeah, I suppose we could.”

You can’t hide the disappointment in your tone and now you have a finger under your chin and a thumb running over your lips.

“And maybe…” he clears his throat, hoping he can come off as a little less eager than he actually is. “I can make the cot dark if you’d like to, you know… cuddle. Unless you need time or—” 

“I would love that,” you smile then broke out in a fit of giggles when you miss the target and instead of his mouth you kiss him right under his nose.

“Really,” he laughs sweetly and fixes your mistake immediately, catching your lips between his.

You love how gently he holds you, how lovingly he hugs you to his chest. You love the tender kiss he presses on the top of your head and you love how his shoulders seem to relax when he hears you mumble against his chest. 

“More than anything.”

All taglist: @maryan028 @pedrothirst @pascalisthepunkest @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8

The Mandalorian taglist: @rubinstein1798 @behold-my-hoard @celestial-vomit @ayyewaddup @onebatch--twobatch

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #maggies17 #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin smut #gif is not mine #credits to the owner