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katiexpunk · 6 months

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Reporting for Duty | Pairing AirMarshal!Javier Peña & Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a flight attendant. You need to be fucked, and that much becomes all the more obvious when a hot, flirty Air Marshal named Javier shows up to fly your leg with you. That's it. That's the fic.

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word count: ~6.2K Warnings: Airplanes, reference to a gun/badge/uniformed authority, pet names, unprotected p in v sex, pining/flirting, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), bathroom sex, airplane sex, size kink, creampie, references to the "bend and snap" from Legally Blonde lol, some fluff at the end. Also image above of the flight attendant is for graphic purposes only, there are no physical descriptions of reader apart from clothing. Authors Note: This is a purely self-indulgent fic that I wrote ON A PLANE. Literally, full brightness down on my screen, hoping to god people weren't reading this filth as they walked past me. And to the woman next to me catching glances at my screen, reading your little romance novel, this one is you. Also, the seat I assigned Javier was the seat I was in. As @sydneyinacoma put it ~ when life imitates art ~ ya know? Enjoy.x

Horny airplane sex below the cut.

There wasn’t always an Air Marshal on your flight, but when there was, you knew the routine like the back of your hand.

It was drilled into your head in training, to always know where the armed passengers are in the event of an emergency.

They would be brought down the gateway by a gate agent before the flight in order to show their badge to the crew and share their seat number.

They would introduce themselves, share the necessary information, and then get back off the plane to join the other passengers in the general boarding process.

After your last leg, while the plane is being cleaned, and there is still plenty of time before the next flight, you keep yourself busy in the front of the plane, waiting patiently to meet the Marshal you had heard from the pilot who would be joining on this leg.

You didn’t expect to lose your breath as the man stepped onto the plane.

He’s tall, tan, and well-built with dark brown hair dusting his forehead and a well-trimmed mustache. He dressed casually, unassuming like they were all supposed to be, but you nearly feel your knees buckle as you study his simple t-shirt, his tight jeans; and the black jacket that’s pulled taught over his shoulders.

He had to conceal his weapon, but God, you want to pull his jacket off to see where he’s stashed it. You suspect it might be in the waistband of his jeans on his back.

As your eyes travel down his form, your mouth goes dry and you stare – probably less than discreetly – at the front of his jeans.

Oh.

It was only when he walked past you that you realized you hadn’t blinked since he stepped onto the plane.

He went into the cockpit to meet with the pilots doing their pre-flight paperwork.

You shake your head slightly, taking yourself out of your daze. What was that?

You try to ignore the fluttery feelings in your stomach as you wait for him to come back out. Why are you so flustered, you think to yourself, hoping that you appear normal to the rest of the flight crew.

You spend the next few minutes anxious, chewing your lip, playing with your hair, attempting to look like you’re taking inventory of the soft drinks. But you’re not, you’re too busy internally chastising yourself for acting like an idiot, for not even greeting him, just eye fucking him.

You walk to the back of the plane, trying to conjure up more time to compose yourself before he comes out to make his additional rounds of introduction.

He finally comes out of the cockpit and starts to say hello to the rest of the crew, shaking hands and engaging in light conversation with your fellow attendants up ahead.

He walks down the aisle of the plane, his frame so broad he has to slightly angle his body to make himself fit. You feel your palms get sweaty as you watch him near closer.

You wipe your hand on your uniform as he extends his out to you.

“Javier Peña,” he says gruffly, giving you a firm handshake. His hands are so much bigger than yours and his dark eyes seem to bore right into you.

“I suspect this flight will be business as normal, but let me know if you see anything unusual.”

Besides a ridiculously hot Air Marshal?

You realize you’re still holding onto his hand, and you awkwardly drop it, cringing as you try to laugh it off.

“Oh! Of course! Yeah, sure – no problem! I will definitely let you know if someone catches my eye. Uh – something, I mean,” you say.

He looks at you curiously and you wonder if he can hear the sound of your rapid heartbeat.

“Right. Thank you,” he says, finishing the statement off with your name.

Hearing your name come out of his mouth nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Wait, how did you…?” you question, realizing you never gave him your name.

He raises a brow and glances down at your jacket before making eye contact. “It’s on your name tag.”

“Oh!” You flush as you look down at the small, golden rectangle pinned to her lapel that has your first name engraved clearly in black, uppercase lettering. Name tag. Obviously. “Right…”

He places both hands on his hips and looks at you with amusement. “Well, thanks again. I’ll be in 37D,” he says, giving you a little wink that you barely register before he’s turned around and heading back down the aisle.

You feel lightheaded as he moves on, the musky scent of his cologne lingers around you.

One of your co-workers walks up behind you and shakes her head with a big smile, obviously noticing your fluster from the interaction.

“Hey, don’t worry about him,” she says.

“What?” you respond, her voice snapping you out of your stupor.

“I’ve flown with this guy a few times – he can be a bit intense, but pretty fun once you get him to loosen up. No need to be nervous,” she says.

“Oh, um, I’m not…uh, thank you,” you say, not very convincingly.

You give her a weak smile and head up to the front of the plane to welcome the passengers beginning to file into their seats.

When you first started this job, the thought of anyone on board having a firearm did frighten you a bit, but you’ve been doing this job for a while now and it doesn’t bother you anymore.

X X X X

Everything moves like clockwork, but you feel antsy as the passengers board the plane. You put on your biggest smile and welcome them aboard like you normally do, but you’re waiting for Javier to board. You know it’s lame, but you really just want to see him again. Stupid considering you’ll have six hours in the air with him.

Of course, he would board when his section when called, just like everyone else, so he’ll be among the final few to file in.

You greet each passenger with the other flight attendants, a fake smile plastered on your face. Usually, you love your job and your smiles are normally genuine, except for when you have a difficult passenger, but you’re growing impatient.

It was rare to get eye candy like this on a flight.

Sometimes there was a guy who you and the other flight attendants would giggle about and argue about whose turn it was to go down the aisle, but never one like this.

Javier has such intense eyes and strong shoulders and you imagine he would so easily be able to lift you against a wall and –

“Hi!” you say a bit too eager as he finally comes on board. You feel your entire body go warm as you attempt to silence your intrusive thoughts.

“Enjoy your flight, sir,” you say.

You almost missed it.

The corner of his lips lifts up in a small smile before he turns his head with a quick “thanks” and walks down the aisle.

You didn’t realize, but you bit your lip as you watched him walk away. You could’ve watched that for hours, but instead, you go through your routine as the stragglers make their way onto the plane. You do your final crosschecks and close the plane doors.

You begin to run through the safety instructions. People never pay attention; whether it was their first flight or their hundredth, most people just glare at their devices as you and your colleagues walk them through the procedures, clicking the unattached seatbelt above their head or pretending to fake blow into the flotation vest.

People rarely ever pay attention, but you feel a pair of dark eyes trained on you as you continue your demonstrations.

He has flown hundreds, if not thousands, of times – that’s his job. He was probably just trying to blend in and make it look like he was paying attention.

You catch his gaze and he gives you another half-smile, and you nearly forget the last step of the safety demo.

X X X X

Time creeps by. By the time the plane takes off, reaches elevation, and the seatbelt lights are turned off, you feel like you want to jump out of your skin. God, what is wrong with you?

You hadn’t felt this level of frustration in a long time.

Maybe it was his eyes or the way he smiled at you.

Maybe it was the fact he stretched his arms above his head as you wrapped up the demonstration, revealing a little skin on his tummy, and you practically forgot your own name.

Maybe it was the fact that it was going to be a long flight, and you would have to go down the aisle multiple times.

Maybe it’s because you haven’t been properly fucked in well over six months, since your last, rather disappointing, hook-up on a layover.

It’s probably everything.

You look at the thin watch on your wrist, and it’s time to offer the first round of drinks to the passengers. You try to remain calm as you walk down the aisle, politely addressing everyone and handing them their requested drinks.

Almost to Javier’s seat, you catch his gaze and see him scanning the aircraft until they land on you.

Did his face just soften or are you just imagining things?

You feel your pulse quicken as you approach him.

You turn to the row across from him first, feeling his eyes on your backside as you hand them their sodas.

When you turn back to him, you freeze, forgetting how to form proper sentences.

“Hey,” he says, voice cool and nonchalant, like he didn’t just send off a chorus of butterflies inside you.

“Thirsty?”

What the fuck. That’s definitely not what you’re supposed to say, nor what you had intended to.

“I’m okay, thank you,” the older woman next to him in a pink sweater responds before she puts her earbuds back in and turns her attention to a game of Merge Mansion on her iPad.

You close her eyes in total humiliation before gathering the courage to look back down at him.

“And – and you?” you ask, trying to keep your voice calm.

His mouth quirks up in a smile. Fuck.

“Am I what, sweetheart?” he says, a flash darting across his eyes, not really questioning, just wanting to fluster you some more.

He knows. He must know. It was his literal job to be observant and you’re about as transparent as fucking cling wrap.

“Are you thirsty, sir?” you ask, again.

“Maybe. What do you recommend?” he asks.

You feel your heart pounding against your ribs.

“I like water,” you blurt.

Stupid, so fucking stupid. Who says water?

He tries to conceal a laugh and says, “Water would be great, thanks.” You curse yourself for what feels like the millionth time this flight as you pour him a blue plastic cup of lukewarm water. He watches you with an amused grin on his face.

You could hand him his drink and awkwardly walk away, or you could get even.

You choose the latter. After handing him the drink, you pull your hand back and accidentally knock over a cup on your drink cart.

“Oops, clumsy me,” you say, and he glances at the cup on the ground before bringing his gaze back up to your face.

You give him your best five-star customer service smile before turning around to pick it up. You hold onto the cart and lean over, slowly reaching toward the floor.

Your uniform was modest and consisted of the same top for each attendant, but women could choose to wear either pants or a skirt.

You’re glad you decided on the skirt.

As you grab for the cup, you look back, and the way Javier is openly staring at your ass makes you think he agrees with the skirt verdict.

His eyes flicker to yours, and he immediately looks away, a clear blush spreading across his face as he stares at his interlaced hands.

Oh, so he is embarrassed now? Good.

You rise with the cup in hand. You smile at him once more before moving on to the rows behind him.

He turns around. As you’re grabbing the next set of drinks off the cart, you glance out of the corner of your eye. There’s no doubt in your mind – Mr. Impossibly Hot Air Marshal is definitely checking you out.

You feel giddy; his job literally involves stealth, but he seems to forget that as you turn your head the slightest bit to meet his eye. He quickly faces forward as if he wasn’t just obviously caught.

You make your way back down the aisle, walking past his aisle seat, and you feel something brush against your calf.

You turn around to see Javier pulling his hand back to himself.

His eyes meet yours. You feel goosebumps erupt over your entire body.

You give him a shy smile, not your over-the-top flight attendant one, and he returns it in full.

A while later, as you bring the food cart through the aisle, you’re still nervous, but slightly less so knowing you’re messing with him too.

And fuck if it’s not exciting.

You keep your friendly demeanor up until you get to his row.

You look at the woman next to him, she’s switched from her iPad to some thick romance novel with a toned and chiseled man on the cover, and you smile before asking if she wants some pretzels or anything for purchase. The woman shakes her head and quickly buries her face back into her pages.

You then look at Javier and he glances up at you curiously.

“Hungry?” you ask, lowering your voice in a flirty tone, the question laced with suggestion. With the engines of the plane, you feel safe knowing that only he could hear you.

“Starving,” he says, dropping his hand so his fingertips brush your leg discreetly.

X X X X

You don’t have a ton of opportunities to make your way back to his seat, but you take every chance you get. You even found yourself disappointed when another attendant offered to go out to collect the trash.

You stand at the divider between first and economy class and grin as you see his face. He’s far away, but you can tell he’s disappointed too.

The hours pass and each time you go to the back of the plane, you both seem to get more daring.

You were suddenly clumsier than usual, dropping things by him. You make sure not to crouch as you pick them up, emulating your best “bend and snap” from Legally Blonde.

Javier’s hand reaches higher, even gently squeezing your thigh at one point.

He’d hit the call light, and ask for tiny things, another cup of water, a pen, headphones even, although he already has his own.

Anytime you handed him something, your fingers brushed.

You can’t take it anymore – you feel like you’re going to explode, the irony is not lost on you it’s a result of the Air Marshal.

You look out the window of the plane, and the sky is turning orange from the setting sun and full of fluffy clouds. Naughty thoughts plague your brain.

His hands are so big. When he squeezed your thigh, you wished his hands were under your skirt.

You think about how badly you just want to rip off his jacket and feel the muscles you know are hiding under the sleeves.

If it were just you two on the plane, you’re sure you would already have your skirt hiked up on your waist, grinding him for all he’s worth.

But you’re at work.

He’s at work.

And though you’re in public, the thought of him leaves you positively soaked.

Utterly annoyed and beyond sexually frustrated, you excuse yourself to the bathroom in the back of the plane, close to his seat.

You try to fix the problem yourself, making quick circles on your clit in a desperate attempt to cum, but you don’t make any progress. You quickly give up and sigh, leaning your head against the wall.

The tiny bathroom is not doing anything to help you get off, no matter how turned on you are.

Unless…

An idea floods your brain.

Fuck, you’d be so fired if you were caught. He’d be fired. If he was even interested, that is.

But it’s worth a shot.

You quickly clean yourself up, straighten yourself out in the mirror, and go back out.

X X X X

The flight only had another two hours or so left, and the overhead light would soon be turned off. You and your fellow attendants are set to bring out the last round of water.

You casually stroll down the aisle, smiling and nodding, thinking of nothing other than getting to Javier.

When you make it to his row, the woman next to him is asleep; the spine of her book is cracked open, the pages facing down in her lap, fully revealing the cover title Dangerous Connections.

Without asking, you pour him a cup of water. As you hand it to him, you tilt the cup a tiny bit, and a few drops of water land on his lap.

It was only a tiny spill, but you make sure to give your most convincing fake gasp.

“I am so sorry – here!” you say, handing him the cup before grabbing a few cocktail napkins, pressing them to his thigh, dangerously close to his cock.

Javier freezes.

“How clumsy of me,” you continue, pretending like you didn’t notice the way his breath hitched at your touch, how his stomach tightened.

“I hope I didn’t get you too wet,” you say, pulling back, fingers gently brushing against his now-growing bulge.

Water splashes on the floor as Javier clenches the flimsy plastic cup in his fist, his eyes dark as he gazes up to your face.

You grin and bend over to clean the bit of water on the floor, and when you look back at him, he has his eyes shut. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is undeniably shallow.

“I’m very sorry about that, sir,” you say, bending closer to him.

Javier opens his eyes and tries to say something, but he stays silent.

“If there’s anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask,” you say, the statement once again laced with suggestion.

He shifts in his seat, and you don’t miss the way he pulls on his jeans, trying to adjust the thick denim to accommodate for the growing lack of space.

You stand up and pour another glass, taking the moment to let out a shuddering breath. You weren’t sure where all of your boldness was coming from, but you’re proud of yourself.

You like making him sweat.

You lean down to him once more and hand him the cup, speaking into his ear,

“This airline strives to make sure that all of your needs are satisfied, sir.”

You hear him audibly gulp, and you stand back up, smiling as you walk away.

X X X X

The sky is now pitch-black, the overhead lights are off, and most of the passengers are asleep.

Now or never.

You psych yourself up to go back to him, but you’re dying.

You’re lightheaded as you bring out the last trash bag, you wonder if you might need an oxygen mask.

You look up as you make your way down and even in the dim light, you can see his face – his eyes are dark and hungry, and they follow your every movement.

No, you definitely just need him.

Since most people are asleep, you’re able to move through the aisle much quicker, and soon enough you are once again by Javier, smiling as you hold open the trash bag.

The screen of the sleeping woman was lit up with the map showing the plane’s progress across the country, and the colors light up Javier’s face as he throws out the napkins, one by one, prolonging your presence.

“I really am sorry about earlier,” you say, not actually sorry, and he damn well knows it.

He doesn’t throw out the last napkin, he simply sticks it in his pocket.

“You’ve been a really good passenger,” you say, suddenly nervous again, realizing what you’re about to offer.

“Have I now?” He looks unsure, but questioning, like he can’t tell what you’re about to say.

“I was wondering if…” you trail off.

He was looking at you in that way and you feel your stomach flip.

“Never mind, I’m sorry, you’re probably busy, so I’ll just – ”

You close the bag and turn to leave, but Javier grabs your wrist, his grab on you gentle but firm.

He whispers your name. It’s the first time he’d said it since the flight started, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse quicken under his grip.

He doesn’t say anything else, just raises a single brow in a signal to go on.

You sigh and he lets go of your wrist.

You bite your lip and play with the bag in your hands. “Since I got – um – accidentally spilled water on you earlier and just because you’ve been a wonderful passenger this evening…”, you look at him and give him a smile. “I was wondering if you would let me personally introduce you to the mile-high club.”

His smile grows throughout your confession and before you let nerves get the better of you and decide to ditch the whole idea, you lean down and whisper, “Bathroom; three minutes.”

Without letting him respond, you turn on your heels and walk back to the front of the plane. You excuse yourself to the bathroom again and take a deep breath, opening the curtain, and walking straight to the back of the plane.

The people in the rows behind Javier were luckily all asleep, and you keep your eyes on the bathroom door, not daring to look at him as you pass.

You quickly open the door and slip inside, leaning against the door as it shuts.

You have three minutes, if not less by now.

You look at your reflection in the mirror and adjust your hair. You pace around the small space, chewing your lip in anticipation.

What do you think you’re even doing? This is a bad idea, he’s probably not going to even come.

But before your mind can convince you to back out, the door slides open.

Javier steps inside the bathroom and closes the door quickly behind him.

The rush of the engines seems especially loud in this bathroom, but you’re glad for that. He seems even larger in the small confines of the room, and you realize you’re holding your breath as he engages the lock behind him.

You lean against the sink and he crosses the small space to you. His arms bracket your body, his hands gripping the counter on both sides behind you. You trail your hands up his chest, finally feeling the thickness of the muscle under his clothing.

Your knees buckle as he grabs your waist and pulls himself against you, your faces inches apart for seconds before he finally closes the distance as you revel in his solid form.

He tastes so good and almost immediately, you shove your tongue into his mouth – you’re needy and frustrated and very tired of waiting.

The kiss is sloppy and desperate, but so hot as you tangle your fingers in his hair, moaning as he bites your lip, his mustache tickling the delicate skin on your face.

You feel something hard bump into your thigh and grin.

“Is that a gun in your pants?” you ask, panting into his mouth, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Gun,” he torts.

“…oh, you say.

“But this,” Javier says as he positions his hips and pushes his quickly stiffening erection against your thigh, “is all you.”

You practically squeal in excitement and crash your lips back to his, sighing as his hands trail down your waist and he grabs your ass in a tight squeeze.

He kisses down your jaw and nips at her earlobe, all hot breath and lust, the sensation causes you to scratch your nails against his scalp, holding onto his shoulder for dear life.

“I’ve been half-hard this entire fucking flight,” he grows into your ear, grinding his hips against yours.

You feel your entire body heat up as you shove him against the opposite wall and slide your hands under his jacket, pushing the garment off his shoulders.

It crumples to the floor and you grip his now free biceps, grinning before kissing him again, hot and heavy.

“Then let me take care of that for you,” you say against his lips and you hear him groan.

You give him one last kiss before pulling away and slowly dropping to your knees in the cramped space.

“Wait,” he says.

You pause, your brow furrowed, wondering if he was going to ask you to stop.

He reaches by his side, unholsters his gun, and sets on the little ledge next to the sink.

You didn’t want to admit it, but knowing he is the only person with any real authority on this plane turns you on.

“Sorry, go on sweetheart,” he asserts.

You go back to the job at hand, popping open the button on his jeans before dragging the zipper down, moving rather slowly, enjoying how fidgety Javier is.

You grab the waistband of his boxers and jeans, pulling them down all together in one movement.

You could tell he was big when you felt him pressed up against you, but holy fuck.

Your thighs clench in anticipation, your panties growing more soaked by the second. You can’t wait anymore. You take his length in your hand and slowly move your hands up and down.

Javier nearly slams his head back into the wall and you see him bite his lip, stifling a groan.

You bring one hand down to cup his balls and the other teases up the side of his shaft, thumb ghosting over the red and weeping head.

A bead of precum forms at the tip, and you dart your tongue out to lick it.

Even over the roaring engines, you hear his sighs, and a rough “fuck, baby.”

You trace your tongue under the underside of his cock, before giving the tip a kiss.

Javier’s fists intertwine with your hair, slightly tugging on it as he reflexively thrusts forward. You firmly grip his hips and hold them in place as you take him into your mouth. His hands remain fisted in your hair as you bob up and down on his cock, relaxing your jaw to take him as far as you could, bringing your hands back down to do the rest.

You suck and suck, and suck, working him through moans, until you decide to pull back with a satisfying pop. Seeing him rock-hard, and the taste of his skin has you soaking for him. You need him to fuck you.

You stand up and Javier cups the back of your head, pulling you in for a deep kiss.

“God, you’re incredible,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Do you have a thing for flight attendants, Marshal Peña?” You tease, already fighting with the material of your skirt so you can pull it up around your waist.

You know your job was a turn-on for a lot of guys, and the humor of an air marshal having a kink for it wasn’t lost on you.

“Do you have a thing for Air Marshals, Ms. “oops sorry about that,” he says, grabbing your skirt and hiking it up, before pushing you up against the sink and hiking your thigh up his side.

You angle your hips and feel his fingers curl around the cotton material of your underwear, and he drags them off in one swoop.

For a quick second, you wish you’d worn something sexier, but clearly, it doesn’t matter because they’re ruined anyway.

Javier’s mouth is at your throat, and his large fingers make their way to your core, where you need him the most before he drags them through the slick coating of your folds, one eventually slipping inside your wet and waiting hole.

You bite into his shoulder to muffle your moan and grind against his digits as he works to add a second finger, skillfully stroking and curling them inside you.

He pulls his fingers out and you whine at the loss, but then he brings them to his mouth, sucking your slick from his fingers.

“I told you I was hungry,” he says, both hands now massaging your thighs. “Think you can help me with that?”

You whimper as you nod, the back of your head hitting the mirror as he kneels into position, trailing soft kisses up your inner thigh.

“Javier, fuck, please,” you beg.

He slides one hand up your body and you take a few of his fingers into your mouth, stifling your loud moans as he licks a trail up your center, his tongue darting in and out of you, lapping at you like you’re his final meal.

Your hands card through his hair as you suck on his fingers, pulling hard with your teeth as his tongue works against you, his nose ghosting your clit.

He removes his fingers from your mouth and returns the length of them back inside you, and moves his tongue up to your throbbing clit.

You’re so close, but before you can come, he pulls back, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and grins up at you.

You grip his shoulders, trying to pull him up, but Javier stands up and suddenly tucks his hands under your thighs, picks you up, and pushes you back against the first wall.

You were right – he had no problem lifting you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, panting as you feel the tip of his hard cock teasing your slick entrance.

“Oh God – Javi-”

The rest of his name is cut off as he lowers you onto his length and you nearly cry out from the stretch of him, but you nuzzle into his neck to keep quiet.

Holy shit; he feels better than you imagined as you slide down fully on his wet thickness, taking him in fully, moaning as he nips at your throat.

“Javi – Javier,” you moan into his ear, begging him to move, to just take you.

He starts slowly as he positions you in his arms, then picks up his pace, grunting as he begins to pound into you.

“Gonna fucking wreck you,” he says through a moan, “ugh, so fucking tight, Cariño.”

The pet name causes your walls to clench harder around him.

You are both already so close to the edge, your crawl to the cliff of your orgasm turns into a sprint as he fucks you against the wall.

You bite his neck, whimpering into his ear, and beg for him to fuck you harder; faster.

He obeys, your skirt and jacket riding up against the grainy surface of the wall as you try to find something to hold on to – his hair or shoulders – but all you can focus on is how hot he feels, how well he fills you, and how this is undoubtedly the best fuck you’ve ever had.

“fuck – sh-should I pull out?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

“N-no – I’m on-” you gasp as he tilts his hips, continuing to thrust into you at a new, perfect angle. “The pill,” you finish, bringing a hand down to your center to touch yourself. You can tell Javier is nearly there, just holding back for you to come first.

“I’m-” He pants, bouncing you against him to let you finish first.

“Javier,” you moan, your head falling back against the wall as waves of pleasure course through you, your vision going white, hooking your ankles behind his back as you ride him out. Your orgasm builds in waves and continues to wash over you as Javier buries himself within you. His groans are soon to follow, and he lets hot ropes of cum fill you up, still with a bruising grip on your thighs.

You breathe together, your chests falling and rising rapidly as you look into each other’s relaxed, sedated eyes.

“What the hell was that?” Javier asks, that ridiculously attractive smile on his face.

You shrug lazily against the wall and grin down at him. “I don’t know – I guess I have a thing for air marshals,” you say, and wink at him.

Javier laughs as he gently pulls out and then places you back on the floor, your legs still shaking; he places a hand on your hip to steady you.

“You know, you make it impossible for a guy to do his job around here,” Javier says, grabbing his jacket off the floor and tucking himself back into his jeans. “You weren’t exactly making things easy for me, either,” you smile as you start to collect toilet paper in order to clean up the cum dripping down your thighs.

“What was I supposed to do? Not follow you? I’m pretty sure that would make me the biggest idiot on the planet,” he says. You can’t help but to kiss him again. It’s soft, and the warmth of it extends down to your feet.

You’re both silent as you finish cleaning yourselves up. Once you look like you hadn’t just fucked each other's brains out in the airplane bathroom.

“Okay,” you say, turning back around from adjusting yourself in the mirror. “I think I should go out first, then you wait a few minutes, then come out after me.”

“Good idea,” he confirms.

You’re about to unlock the door when he calls out to you.

“Wait...”

You turn around and his lips are on yours, giving you one last lingering kiss before you leave.

You smile as you slip out the door.

X X X X

The cabin looks just as you left it, and anyone who was awake was turned away from you.

You take a deep breath and make your way down the aisle, worried someone might be able to read your mind.

You feel better as you peek through the curtains and watch Javier sneak out of the bathroom.

You couldn’t stop the giggle that left your throat and you sighed as you stepped away from the curtain.

X X X X

Soon after, the pilot’s voice comes over the speaker to announce your descent. The overhead light comes back on as people wake up slowly and you and your fellow attendants walk down the aisles, instructing people to put on their seatbelts or push their tray tables up.

You avoid going to the back because you don’t know what to say. Now that it was over – would you talk again? Would you even see each other again? Not likely.

Would he just pass you on the way out without even saying goodbye?

No, that didn’t seem like something he would do.

Maybe it was only meant to be a one-time thing, but you don’t want it to be. As you and the other attendants buckle into your jump seats for landing, you chew on your lip and dread the next 20 minutes.

The plane lands and taxis to the assigned gate. The seatbelt sign clicks off with a chime, and eager passengers fill the aisle and grab their luggage, slowly beginning to make their way off the plane.

Like with boarding, you are distracted, spending most of your time trying to look over people’s heads to find Javier’s, but you can’t see anything.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the line began to thin and the last few people stepped off the plane.

Javier was last.

The other attendants make their way to the back of the plane to begin picking up a few things, but you stay behind, awkwardly looking around as Javier comes up to you.

“Uh…” he begins.

“Um...”

You both grin at each other, not sure what to say.

“I want to say goodbye,” Javier says.

“Goodbye,” you say quietly, realizing how sad you feel.

To your surprise, he leans over, gives you a kiss on the cheek, and slides something into your palm.

He steps off the plane, and you watch him turn down the jet bridge and disappear.

You look down at your hand and see a wrinkled, folded napkin.

You smile as you remember he saved one.

You open the napkin and see a phone number written in blocky letters.

Under the number was a message.

See you at the club next time, Cariño.

END

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#javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena one shot #narcos #narcos smut #airplane sex smut #pedro pascal smut #katiexpunk fics #pedrohub

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pigeonpeach · 4 months

Text

I’ll take whats yours and make it mine~

Aka Yelan vs Pantalone

Cw: forced marriage, basically legal kidnapping, then illegal kidnapping, Yelan saves you dw, Wlw, reader is called ‘bride’, mild misogynistic themes,

-also fun fact: chinese wedding dresses are red with red veils and not white because white is the color of death in china.

To your surprise you had been arranged to marry a harbinger? It was quite a jarring experience and upsetting. You would be leaving behind everything to go to Snezhnaya, a completely different culture and completely different environment. You were devastated to say the least. You would never bee seeing your homeland again according to your father who seemed far too okay with this all. Apparently the Regator caught sight of you and decided he needed you for himself. You werent happy. You considered running away but you would be running from the Fatui. You couldn’t help but cry just thinking of the life you lead. Besides.. you were so close to finishing your degree in business. You had wanted to join the Tianquan someday. You had so much potential all to be thrown out because some man thought you were beautiful.

“Dearie, you’d never have to work a day in your life as his wife.” Your mother tried to comfort you but also persuade you to just go along with it.

“You don’t get it. I just got a letter from my friend Keqing who said Lady Ningguang would be interested in offering me a PAID internship! And dad just sold me to some bloodthristy harbinger!” You whined. You were going to miss Liyue, your friends, your dreams. Everything was over.

“Well.. to be fair we don’t really have a choice here… Pantalone is a force to be reckoned with and… we just wouldn’t be able to stand against him. My dear its better you go as his wife than as his prisoner. At least as his wife you would get some respect and agency. Now wipe your tears. We have to start preparing for your… depature.”

Today was the worst. Dawned in red with a thick veil over your face, stuffed into a carriage. Did you really have to travel in your wedding dress? Its such a long journey too.. its incredibly uncomfortable sitting for hours in such a tight garment. Worst off all your parents weren’t allowed to go, you tried not to cry in the carriage. Fatui were all around the outside, soldiers with stones for hearts it seemed as they seemed annoyed when you showed any semblance of struggle. You weren’t looking forward to being married into the Fatui whatsoever.

Then the carriage stopped. You paused. Was it time to camp already? You looked through the see through curtains, its evening. But they usually wouldn’t stop until they came across some inn or city? Your answer came in the form of gunshots ringing out, the carriage shook as the horses became spooked and rode off dragging you in the carriage with no rider it seemed. You held to the walls as you could hear the fight from afar. Who was fighting them? What was happening?

“Help! Someone? Whats going on?!” You cried out. But no one answered. The ride was bumpy, you couldnt really even know what was happening. Was it a ambush? Who would ambush you?

The carriage suddenly stopped vaulting your forward. You groaned as you made contact with the wooden wall infront of you. You could hear the fight continue as it seemed the Fatuus were losing… who could be so powerful? You noticed the carriage door was still unlocked. Now unguarded you could just… poke your head out maybe?

You did so, slightly to look out, you saw the horses were gone actually, the leashes holding them had been severed. You briefly hoped they were fine, then you heard someone approaching. You quickly closed the door hiding. If someone was powerful enough to take on that many fatui agents then you had absolutely no shot against them.

“I know you’re in there, come on out.” You heard a voice say, it sounded confident and sultry. You hesitated as footsteps got closer. Finally the door opened. A lady with short dark blue hair and a unique attire greeted you with a smug smile. “You’re quite the pretty bride, but I assume you don’t want to be here huh?” She said casually. You nodded. She offered you her hand. “I can get you out of here, and I’ll take you somewhere safer. You’ll never have to marry that harbinger.” Her voice sounded confident. She seemed to know what she was talking about. You hesitated before taking her hand. With that she helped you out. She lifted your veil, firmly removing it letting you now clearly look around without it.

“Those… were the millieth… they just let us past like that?” You were a bit surprised as you were led to a hotel room.

“Darling, I’m not just some robin hood stealing from the Fatui, I’m a secret agent.” She said as she helped you change out of your dress. You were blushing as you undressed with your back to her, covering your body. “I heard he was forcing some young lady to marry him and I decided to intervene. I assure you, you will be safe here. I have plenty of strings here to pull. So needless to say, you’re under the Tianquan’s protection now. You can relax.” Her words were so soothing… you felt so flustered. She’s so beautiful too. Who would’ve known you would be saved by someone like her? The lord of Geo must have heard your prayers.

“T-thank you… I-i cannot thank you enough!” You say as she hands you a new uniform. Your eyes widen as you realize its a uniform worn by the assistants of Lady Ningguang. “W-what but this is…”

“Your cover. You’re going to hide out in the Jade Chamber for a bit. You see, Lady Ningguang owes me a favor or two.. and I asked if I could house you temporarily in the Jade Chamber. One of the most secure locations in all of Liyue. No one will ever suspect you’re there. Of course you’ll be out to work but if I remember correctly that’s what you wanted yes?”

“W-wait.. you arranged all this for me? Why?” You asked. You finished putting on your uniform as you turned to her. She smiled.

“Well.. I couldn’t let a pretty face like yours be wasted on that banker. Jewels like yourself deserve better than to be treated like a trophy. I’ve always like taking from him too. And I’ve actually had my eye on you too.” Her voice was so sweet, like candy. You felt like you were being lured into a trance almost, sitting on the bed blushing as she folded up your dress. “I assure you, I’ll be taking good care of you~” she said with a wink.

“WHAT?!” Pantalone’s hands tore the report in half as his underling trembled.

“They did everything possible yet the bandit made it out with the bride.” The underling said nervously.

“I heard you the first time.” He said seething. “What I want to know is how incompetent were those agents that ONE pesky agent could work through their defenses and make off with MY bride!” Pantalone sat back down, his legs crossed as he attempted to regain his composure.

“We’re working to identify the thief but there’s no clues. We could only find the veil.”

“Must I go down there myself to find them? What are you doing standing around here anyways, shoo. Go tell them to keep searching and send out more investigators. I paid good money for that bride so either I’ll have them or I’ll have you sent to Dottore’s Laboratory!” Pantalone hissed. Immediately the underling bowed and left. He groaned as he sat in his chair.

“You’re not going to win this game, you pesky woman.” He hissed

#genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin yelan #yelan x reader #yelan x you #mild yandere themes #pantalone x reader #implied pantalone x reader #angry pantalone #yelan snatched his wife #give me back my gamer girl yelan!!!#genshin impact #wlw #wlw x reader #suck it pantalone #wlw vs mlw series

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thelightsandtheroses · 10 months

Text

Secret Smile: Lost Daughter (Chapter Two)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose. Word Count: 3.5k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog - by reading on you’re confirming you’re over 18, language, mentions of alcohol, reader has a nickname but no physical descriptors used Author’s Note - Thank you all for the comments and reblogs so far, I’m so pleased are enjoying and responding this so far and am excited to now introduce the Reader’s POV. Thank you again to the lovely @wildemaven for this gorgeous fic header.

Chapter One | Series Masterlist

Bogota, Colombia

You pull the edge of your blazer down further, smooth over any potential creases. It started with first day nerves and now has become a strange tradition or habit whenever you enter the office. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been working here for several weeks, or that the staff at the embassy gate have finally recognise you when you drive in, every time you walk in you feel like an imposter.

You originally accepted this job as the deputy to a key legal advisor and liaison attaché, however they quit less than forty-eight hours after you had landed and left the country almost immediately, leaving little time for a handover. You’ve been unofficially covering the position ever since and while it started as a baptism of fire, so far it seems to be working.

Mostly.

It’s been a steep learning curve. However, with some slightly feverish research each evening, hard work and determination, it’s starting to feel more like a normal job.

You’d never been to Colombia before this assignment. While you were lucky enough to have travelled with your family when you were younger, to even have studied abroad at one point, you had never been anywhere like this outside of family vacations.

DC is firmly in your rear-view mirror now. That’s where it belongs.

This part of the embassy is full of energy today; there’s an excitement humming through the corridors, an impatience even. Normally people keep to themselves, remain focused on their jobs and sticking within their departments. You wonder if there’s a VIP visitor due in today; that would explain it all.

You’ve heard rumours that senators may be flying down soon, that DC wants to see where its money is going. The embassy isn’t quite neat enough, isn’t quite as on edge as you would expect in that scenario though.

If it’s not a VIP visitor, then what is it?

You briefly nod in greeting at one of the DEA agents who is talking in hushed, excited tones to another agent. You can’t remember his name - Nick? Neil, that’s it. Neil Stoddard.

He greets you and you can tell he wants to pull you into the conversation. You fight your natural curiosity - you don’t really need to know what is happening.

“Sorry, Agent Stoddard, I have to go prepare for a meeting. It’s good to see you both,” you say politely, briskly walking down the corridor and closer to your office.

The embassy is divided into cliques, a twisted version of high school. Departments rarely mix. Your department, with Justice and legal advisors and other liaisons is a rarity because you do have to interact with the other departments. Most of the time, you’ve noticed your department tries to avoid direct interactions though, conducting most of their business from their harshly lit offices.

You weren’t sure what you expected from this assignment, but it wasn’t this.

There’s a growing sense of dread rising through your stomach as you walk down the dimly lit corridor; it can’t be. Surely that wouldn’t be why everyone is acting like it’s Christmas. Besides, you thought you had some time before that happens.

This building is like a rabbit warren. In your first week you walked into several people’s offices instead of your own, got lost more times than you could count and wished you had drawn a map of some sorts for yourself.

Now it’s better. You can find your office anyway. Most of the time.

You’re in the office adjacent to a large office that most of the other Justice staff and lawyers are based in. It isn’t private, you share it with four other people, but your desk is further away from the others and it’s not directly underneath the air conditioning, unlike at your last job, so you can work with that.

“The new DEA attaché arrives today,” Judith says by way of greeting as you set down your bag down at your desk. Judith is an administrator and has been in Colombia for over a year now. The more you speak to her, the more it seems she knows everything about how the place actually runs.

“Hey, Judy. Oh, really? I thought he was coming down later in the month.” you reply, rummaging through your bag for your beloved and battered Filofax. Your bag is a mess, you really need to sort it out at some point.

“Mmhmm, have you heard about him?” Judith asks, resting her chin on one hand as she idly fiddles with the edge of her coffee mug.

“Not really,” you lie easily, though perhaps it isn’t really a lie. You hardly know Javier Peña anymore. Laredo is in your rear-view mirror along with all its ghosts.

You’ve never quite felt like you fitted in, not at home, not with your family. You threw yourself into good grades, career success, the same achievements you’d seen with your brother and the same achievements your parents craved for you both. It never felt like enough though and as soon as you could, you’d moved away and tried to continue those successes, those achievements outside of Laredo. You’re still not sure how well you’re doing with that; your parents and brother say they are proud, you just can’t quite believe it.

It is still strange that Javier Peña, your brother’s best friend growing up, is the same man these people are all whispering and eagerly awaiting. Javi Peña, who was a constant presence when you grew up in Laredo, who had been one of the few people to encourage your dreams of seeing the world outside of your hometown, outside of Texas. It was clear he harboured his own dreams there.

Only now he’s the Javier Peña who had helped bring down one of the world’s worst drug lords. He’s the Javier Peña, who according to your mom in her last phone call is the new hero of Laredo.

Only while most of the embassy seems to think of Javier the same way, your most recent meeting with Crosby and Stechner has raised your alarm bells. On the surface, nothing was said, nothing concrete. It’s almost as though they spoke to you in a foreign language and if you tried to explain what was said outside of the meeting to anyone else, it would mistranslate. It was the combination of tension, unspoken insinuations and the way certain words were emphasised. It unsettled you.

They want you to keep Javier aligned to what they want. You don’t even really know what that is; just that while on the surface you’ll be working ‘closely’ with Agent Peña and will be “supporting him in navigating the new realities of Colombia”, it all means a lot more than it sounds like. It sounds like you’re there to check the case is watertight, that things go by the book. You never took Javier for a maverick, but maybe things are different now, maybe he’s different.

You didn’t even pick up on their double meanings at the start of the meeting, just took it as gospel that you would help him, that you would be assisting the DEA to take down a cartel, providing liaison and legal guidance that utilised your skills and would help do something good in the world. Then it was just you and Stechner in the elevator.

Stechner definitely doesn’t see Javier as a hero. He made that clear. He made sure you heard the rumours, knew his take on it all and his previous experience with Agent Peña.

None of it matches with the Javi you remember. Stechner’s pulled any pedestal out from under Javi with too much ease, but it doesn’t feel natural, it doesn’t feel right. Maybe if Javier were a stranger, it would be easier, but he’s not.

He’s Javi.

“He has quite the reputation,” Judith says, breaking you out of your memories, “and not just for work either from what I hear.”

You don’t know the half of it, you think. ”Do you know if the ambassador is in yet?”

“Yes, and don’t forget you’ve got a 11am with him,” Judith says, a slightly disappointed expression on her face.

“Great,” you say flatly. You’d forgotten about this meeting and you feel underprepared at best, especially after your last meeting with him.

You check your watch, there’s enough time to finish this report and still prepare for your meeting later. “Coffee?” you ask Judith by way of a peace offering.

She shakes her head and points at the still full cup next to her.

“Alright, I am going to grab a quick coffee before I get started. It’s going to be a day, isn’t it? Wish me luck?”

“He helped take down Escobar, you know?” Judith says as you’re walking out of the office.

“The ambassador?” You turn around in confusion for a moment.

“No, silly, Agent Peña.”

”Oh, yes, of course. We’re uh, very lucky he’s coming back.”

“I have a meeting with Crosby,” you say to Crosby’s secretary, Linda, as you walk into the main office.

Linda barely looks up at you before saying, ”He’s expecting you. You can go right in.”

“Thanks, Linda,” you reply as you walk past her to Crosby’s door. You push open the heavy door reluctantly, already feeling your palms heat up with nervous anticipation.

“- need to work together on this one. We have the same goal,” Crosby says, pausing as the door loudly shuts behind.

Immediately, Javier looks up at you. He’s neatly suited and booted and you notice the empty glasses between him and Crosby. It’s not surprising, Crosby is one of those old school types after all. In fact, you’re amazed there isn’t in a cigar in one of their hands. You’d never dare to drink alcohol at work, but it’s different for you.

He looks surprised to see you, perhaps even a little disappointed. That stings: you’re sure it must have been a surprise to realise that you were here, but you hadn’t expected this. You thought that perhaps he’d be pleased to see someone from home, to have a familiar face beside him.

You try and remember when it was you last saw him. Rafa told you that Javi left Laredo very quickly after the Lorraine debacle which had happened while you were in college. You couldn’t blame Javier for wanting to leave that: gossip and scandal spreads like wildfire in a small town.

You’d left Laredo too - for college, for new opportunities. Now you only go back for special occasions, family get togethers. Even your closest friends in high school usually came to you or an agreed vacation spot rather than staying in Laredo.

The Javi you remember is sitting in your brother’s passenger seat with grown out hair, music playing and a light wind blowing as your brother reluctantly drops you off at the mall.

Now he’s different. His hair is short, neater, he dresses differently now. He reminds you a little of Atlas, carrying himself like the entire weight of the world rests on his shoulders. You didn’t expect that.

You wonder how he remembers you. If he even does. What would he remember? His friend’s younger sister: a shy bookworm who was so opinionated, so stubborn.

“Ah, perfect timing. This is Agent Peña, my new DEA attaché,” Crosby says by way of introducing you and waving his hand over to you to allow you to introduce yourself.

“It’s good to meet you, Agent Peña,” you say, meeting Javier’s eyes for the first time, extending a hand before you introduce yourself as though he were any other stranger.

He raises his eyebrows almost imperceptibly and for a second you think he’ll say something, but he just nods and takes your proffered hand.

“And you.”

“You two will be working closely together on this,” Crosby says, a too wide smile on his face. “She’s a specialist legal advisor and liaison from DC. I’ve assigned her to help you while you’re here - think of it as a secondment of sorts. She can help you with warrants, navigating the legal and local systems, liaising between our offices, with the Colombians and of course the CIA Station Chief.” This is more of an explanation of what he wants from you than he gave you last week.

Javi’s mask almost wavers. You noticed the way his brow furrows, eyes widen for a second, the slight movement of his jaw.

He wasn’t expecting this and that concerns you even more. What exactly have you been instructed to do?

The meeting winds up quickly after the introduction and the two of you walk outside and down toward the empty corridor.

“We’ve never met before then?” he asks, a wry smile on his face.

You exhale. “Look, I - it’s just easier that way. You have no idea what it’s like. If everyone realises that I know you from home, then people will make assumptions and I would rather not have to deal with them.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. This place is like a gossip factory, surely it was like that when you were here last?”

Javi smirks. “Probably. Okay, fine, that works for me. You know Stechner and Crosby already know where you’re from though.”

“Coming from the same hometown doesn’t mean we’d know each other. Laredo’s small but it’s possible we wouldn’t have crossed paths. If it wasn’t for Rafael, I doubt we would have,” you say, voice smaller than you wanted.

You hadn’t thought of that possibility. What if the whole thing was some sort of twisted test by Stechner or Crosby? You try and think about whether any ethical boundary is being crossed. You’ve never dated Javier, he’s not related to you by marriage or blood, in fact, he’s barely your friend, you’re not representing or prosecuting him, so no - no, there’s no obviously glaring ethical breach here you can think of.

“Don’t worry about it,” Javi says gently, clearly sensing your growing anxiety. “It’s been a long time since we last spoke anyway.” He emphasises the word long, looks you up and down until you scowl at the tone to his voice.

He holds his hands up in defence, smiles as he meets your eyes, chuckling to himself.

“Crosby said you had taken some vacation time back home. You were in Laredo?” you ask.

“Yeah, for a bit.”

“I haven’t - did you see my brother?”

He looks at the floor for a second and then straight into your eyes. “Yeah, I bumped into him.“ Javi pauses thoughtfully. “He seemed good.”

“Did you see Sofia?” You ask wistfully. Sofia’s your niece and she is generally the highlight of any trip home you take. Even here in Colombia, you have one of her drawings displayed on your fridge, a photo of the two of you at her most recent birthday next to it. You had flown down to Laredo for her birthday party, taken a day off work especially to make it a long weekend. It was the last time you’d been back there.

Laredo feels strange now when you go back. Some of your closest friends still live there, however you’ve never quite felt comfortable in the town and you don’t know why. Despite your career successes, you always feel like you’ve disappointed your parents and haven’t met their expectations. They haven’t said that, they never would. You just feel it.

“No, no I didn’t,” Javi says. “How old is she even now? Actually, don’t tell me, it’ll make me feel old.”

“It makes me feel old,” you say, “I remember her as a baby.”

Javi smiles tightly.

Silence passes between you. It’s heavy and strange, making the air in the office feel even more humid, oppressive. None of your time in Colombia is passing as you had expected.

“This is weird, right?” you ask suddenly, desperate for this strangeness around the two of you to lift. This is Javi - not a complete stranger, not an embittered ex or an enemy. You’re supposed to be on the same side here.

Javi nods, he straightens his posture and looks at you again. He doesn’t look like the Javi you know; this stiff backed, frowning man is not your brother’s best friend, is not the person you remember.

“Why are you really here, sweetheart?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would you need to work with me closely? What possible reason - I have a team, okay, I don’t need you. I don’t need a babysitter.”

It’s work, it’s not personal. You know this. Javi’s words dig under your skin though and sting because he’s not a stranger, you thought he might be your friend - or at least an ally.

Besides the hurt, his words infuriate you. You’ve worked with enough egos, enough arrogant men in your career so far to know what you to do. You straighten up, control your expression and meet his dark brown eyes.

“Well trust me, I have more than enough on my plate without babysitting you. The ambassador demanded this of me as well, so don’t blame me. This isn’t the job I interviewed for or was hired for, but somehow it’s the job I’ve been assigned so we have to make the best of it.”

“I don’t need you,” he says firmly.

Your stomach sinks. This is all going terribly. “Javier, I can help you navigate some of the bureaucracy and make sure you have the right warrants and paperwork, that we get through any hurdles or challenge and protect the-“

“You’ve been here for all of five minutes and you’re the expert in what did you say - navigating hurdles? I’ve spent years here.”

“Things are different now,” you say and he scowls in response.

“Different? Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Javi mumbles under his breath.

“Look, don’t patronise me. I’m good at what I do, really good, and yes, I might not have been in Colombia as long as you but that doesn’t matter if I can do the job. We can work together. I’m not your fucking PA or assistant, Javier, but I can - we’ll make sure everything is beyond reproach, bulletproof, and we’ll get the Cali guys so they spend the rest of their lives in prison and it will -”

“You’re being so naive.”

“And you’re being an asshole!”

Javier’s face softens for a moment and then returns to a blank expression. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

Whatever it is you do? Great, Javier’s turned into one of those guys.

You sigh. “Walk me to your office. We might as well get started now.”

You spend the rest of the day with Javier. There’s a possible lead from the Cornerstone operation, an asset in play down in Cali. Most of the work has already been done when you arrive in his office - the paperwork is almost finished, the formalities covered.

It feels seedy though; using a relative’s distress to put an asset in play. Maybe Javi’s right, maybe you are naive.

“Did you run a lot of operations like this before?” you ask, taking a sip of lukewarm coffee.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Just making conversation,” you say, neatening a pile of paperwork.

“Squeamish?”

“Nope. Look, I’ve been a lawyer for long enough. I’ve seen a lot more than you think. Look, Javi for this to work - I just, give me a damn chance.”

“It’s not you,” he says after a moment, “Do you know why you have this assignment? Do you know what they really want you to do? And do you really think I don’t fucking know? I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart.”

You look at the floor awkwardly. “Of course, I know there’s more to this, Javier. I’m not stupid. I’ve spent years in DC, I can recognise doublespeak in my sleep. This is the assignment I have though and I - I genuinely want to help you. I came here to help people.”

“Tell the higher ups that because they don’t want you to ‘help’ me.”

“Javi,” you lightly admonish. “This situation is definitely shitty, but let’s try and work together on this, please. We can do this together, you just need to keep everything above board and let me navigate more of the political bullshit.”

He looks down at your comments, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Fuck, I’ve been back less than 24 hours and the bureaucracy is ten times worse.”

“Well, like I said, things are different now,” you joke.

Javi shakes his head, mumbles something under his breath as the two of you resume your work.

After a while you stretch your arms out, stand up and exhale. “Okay, I need to head back to my desk, wrap up some projects. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Javi mumbles, barely looking up from his paperwork. He says something else, so low you can barely decipher it, so quiet you almost miss it. It’s a nickname you haven’t heard in years; the one your brother coined given your childhood fascination of the state flower. One that transports you back in time the moment you hear it.

Blue.

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leiawritesstories · 6 months

Note

rowaelin fic with aelin as a model? youre such an inspiration!!💞

AWWWWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH 🥺🥰 also HOW did i never see this??? stupid inbox 😠

i love this!! let's see.......

word count: 2.1k (whoopsies)

warnings: none!

enjoy!!

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

The metro was late.

Aelin was already running a few minutes behind thanks to an unexpected Fleetfoot accident that had required her to change her clothes while soothing the golden retriever puppy, and she'd practically run the whole twelve blocks from her apartment to the metro stop. Of course the damn train would be late on today of all days, the one day in her calendar that she couldn't afford to miss except for death or grievous injury.

The characteristic screech of train brakes yanked her out of her thoughts, and she stepped to the edge of the platform and hurried onto the train as soon as the doors swished open. She clutched her small leather mini tote against her chest and grabbed onto a bar for stability, planting her heeled boots solidly against the floor and adjusting her stance as the train moved.

Twenty minutes later, she hurried off the train, half-sprinting through the station and barely registering her frantic pace until she was out on the street. She glanced at her smart watch and released a short breath when she saw that she still had adequate time to get to her agency before she would be considered late. Smoothly, she joined the people moving along the sidewalks, her long slender legs taking fluid, easy strides as she slid through the crowds. It was a little less than ten minutes until she reached a sleek modern high-rise, all black glass and unbroken lines, strode through the front doors, and waved at the security guard by the elevator.

"Morning, Phil!"

The middle-aged man's solid face creased into a tiny smile. "Morning, Miss Aelin." No matter how many times she told him she was just an ordinary woman, he refused to call her anything else.

To the world, after all, she was Aelin Galathynius, famed for her runway walk, magazine cover model, and face of the wildly popular brand Ennar.

"You're still early, Miss Aelin," Phil said quietly as Aelin stepped into the elevator. "Good luck."

"Thank you," she murmured, throwing the kind man a grateful smile. The elevator doors slid closed with a soft chime, and she closed her eyes and took deep, measured breaths as she traveled up to the twenty-first floor.

Ding! The sleek steel doors slid open, and she released her breath, opened her eyes, and strode out into the minimalist-modern offices of the Blackbeak Modeling Agency. The familiar ivory walls, marble, neutral-toned artwork, and black-and-white photographs blurred past as she headed for her agent's office.

She knocked twice and the door popped open. "Personal service? I thought you had interns for that, Blackbeak."

"Funny," deadpanned Manon Blackbeak, a former international supermodel and a hell of a terrifying woman. She'd been Aelin's agent since Aelin entered the professional modeling world at eighteen. "You made it just in time, Galathynius."

"What's with the call time?" Aelin inquired. She took her usual seat in the ivory wingback chair across from Manon's. "It seems like an odd time for a shoot, fitting, or casting. Is it something with Ennar?"

"It's a new opportunity." Manon reached into her desk and pulled out a portfolio, which she slid to Aelin. "They reached out to us yesterday hoping we'd be interested in setting up four contracts with their brand--short-term at first, but with the potential of extension."

Aelin opened the file and skimmed through the series of glossy photos of clothing--all on mannequins. Each piece was beautifully crafted, showcasing the designer's obvious attention to detail as well as their undeniable artistry. "These are incredible," she murmured.

Manon nodded. "The last few pages are the proposed contract."

"Hmm." Aelin flipped to the draft contract and skimmed through the now-familiar pages of legal and technical jargon. "This almost doesn't seem real. Set my own hours? My own compensation? There's a 'within our schedule parameters' stipulation, but my own pay rate?" Her perfectly shaped brows furrowed. "It seems too good to be true."

"What do you initially think?" Manon drummed her fingernails against her desk. The question seemed brusque, but that was how she operated. She didn't coddle. "Part of the reason you got called in at this time was because the designer is interested in meeting with you. He's here right now."

"What?"

"I'm not a parrot, Galathynius," Manon drawled. "You'd think you were a newbie model with that big-eyed stare on your face."

"Piss off," Aelin snorted. She rearranged her shocked expression and glanced down at the portfolio. "This Mr. --"

"Just Rowan."

"Another single-name designer, then," Aelin mused. "Bold, considering this would be the debut collection."

"Indeed. Are you interested?"

"Yes." Aelin closed the portfolio. "I am."

"Good, because you'd be meeting him anyway." Manon stood and opened her office door. "Let's go, Galathynius. We should get to the meeting room before Rowan and his people do."

"Good idea." Gracefully, Aelin collected the file and her bag, stood up, and followed her agent out of the office and down the hallways to the smaller, cozier conference room. Manon flicked on the lights as they entered, illuminating the warm-toned chestnut table and plush chairs facing the presentation screen. They were the first ones there, so Aelin dropped into a chair that faced the door and waited as Manon sent off a text to the agency head.

"They'll be here in five," the platinum-haired agent said, seating herself next to Aelin. "Sorry for the short notice."

"It's just part of the job, Blackbeak." Aelin waved off Manon's uncharacteristic apology. "And there's certainly no need to say things you don't mean."

"You're right." Manon flashed her a smirk. "In that case, bundle up, because I hear this designer is cold."

Aelin rolled her eyes. "If I can deal with Maeve Bitchface, I can deal with a single-name guy who doesn't have emotions."

"Bold of you to make that assumption before we've even met," interrupted a deep drawl. Filling the doorway stood a tall, fit man with a shock of colorless hair, piercing emerald eyes, and a thick manila file tucked under one muscular arm.

"With all due respect," Aelin deadpanned, fixing her unflinching stare on the man, "you don't work in this industry for years without developing the ability to categorize designers based on what's known about them."

"Fair enough." The man walked into the room, set the file on the conference table, and took the seat directly opposite Aelin. "I'm Rowan."

"Pleasure to meet you in the flesh. I'm Aelin Galathynius; I have a last name like all normal people." With a saccharine smile, she shook his offered hand.

Rowan cracked a tiny grin. "I'm well acquainted with your profile, Miss Galathynius."

"You sound like an FBI officer." She regarded him skeptically. "Am I sure he's a designer and not an undercover cop, Blackbeak?"

Manon snorted. "I'm pretty sure he'd have to kill you if he told you that, Galathynius."

"That's correct." Rowan leant back in his seat, humor lighting up his eyes. "So why don't we assume I'm just a designer who wants to work with you, at least for now?"

"I suppose that's safe enough, at least for now." Aelin steepled her fingers. "I've seen your sample file, Mr. Rowan, and I have to say, I'm impressed. Yours might just be one of the most aesthetically pleasing lines I've seen, and if would be a true honor to wear it."

"Just Rowan, please, and thank you." A soft hint of pink colored the edges of Rowan's cheeks. "My mother used to design clothing, and it's become my passion as much as it's her legacy."

Aelin smiled, softly. "I repeat, it's beautiful."

"Thank you." He cleared his throat and nodded at the dark-haired, stone-faced man next to him. "Since I've decided that you are the model I'd like to work with, my attorney here has brought a preliminary contract." The dark-haired man slid a handful of papers over to Aelin. "Please, have a look, and we can discuss terms."

"Thanks to my agent, I've already been able to look at a draft of the contract." She flipped it to the compensation page. "Set my own pay rate? Is this some kind of trick?"

Rowan exhaled a controlled breath. "No. It's my personal policy that every model I work with sets their own rate of pay."

"Why?" Aelin was genuinely confused--the modeling world didn't run on compassion.

"I've found that the benefits--retention, quality of work, satisfaction, and all of that--outweigh the cost, and not as many people as you may think actually set an outrageously high rate."

"Hmm." She tapped her chin. "That's a surprisingly shrewd decision, Rowan. I wouldn't have expected that in this cutthroat industry."

He shrugged. "I like to think that I'm one of the good guys."

"I'll take you up on that." She penciled a number in the open pay line--a fair bit higher than her usual rate, but not outrageous. "Could you elaborate on what, exactly, my contract includes? The actual details were vague."

"Of course." He opened the folder on the table and spread out a handful of images and sketches. "I'd like to hire you as a brand ambassador. The position would entail walking in my major shows as well as wearing and promoting my brand on your social media accounts and in public. Yes, I'm aware that you work as the brand ambassador for Ennar, and I've spoken with the legal team there. This job shouldn't conflict with your role with Ennar."

"Even though it's essentially the same position?"

"I'm not asking that you focus in my line as intensely as you do with Ennar. Also, my brand is currently only clothing, while that designer is clothing, accessories, and beauty products."

"Indeed." Aelin scribbled on her small notepad. "Well, my initial response to your offer is yes. However, I have a number of personal stipulations that I am unwilling to give up for any job."

"Go ahead." He pulled out a notepad of his own and waited for her to list her rules.

"First, I will not model undergarments."

"That won't be an issue; I have no intention of venturing into that business."

"Good. Second, I have both public and private social media profiles. My public ones are managed by my team, but I have the final say in what gets posted and when, and my brand deals are strictly limited to my public profiles. So, although I'll be wearing your line, it won't be mentioned anywhere on my private pages."

"That shouldn't be a concern, as long as you aren't using your private pages as some kind of undercover scheme where you claim credit for what you're wearing." His voice was carefully controlled, but she detected the tension beneath the control. Someone had done that to him, no doubt.

She fought the unprofessional urge to hold his hands in comfort. "Rowan, I can assure you that my job takes enough of a toll that I need to keep it off my private social media. Also, my private pages are only followed by people that I personally know, and people that know me personally know full well that I can dress, but I'm hopeless are design."

"Okay." Some of the stiffness in his posture melted. "Call me paranoid, but I have to make a living somehow."

"I understand." A reassuring smile flicked over her face. "Thirdly, I don't care what kind of emergency comes up, I don't work Sundays. Ever."

Rowan glanced to Manon. "Ever ever?"

"Never," Manon confirmed. "In the eight years that I've worked with Galathynius, she's never once strayed from that stipulation. I thought it would be a deal-breaker, and it has been at times, but she never works on Sundays. No content, no shows, nothing."

"It's a...personal day," Aelin explained. Unwilling to mention her dad's illness, therapy, or anything else so close to her heart, she left it at that.

"I can work with that." Rowan wrote something down on his notepad. "It shouldn't be frowned upon to try and maintain some normalcy in this hectic world."

"Thank you," Aelin murmured. "Finally, my last stipulation is that my assistant attends every shoot and brand event with me, as I rely on her advice in public situations."

"Of course." He nodded. "Far be it from me to push anyone I work with into a situation where they feel they've been denied the chance to consult someone they trust before making a decision."

"Wonderful. Those are all of my conditions."

He nodded thoughtfully. "All right, Miss Galathynius. Do we have an agreement?"

"Just Aelin, please, and I believe we do."

"Excellent." Standing, he reached across the table and shook her hand. "I look forward to working with you, Aelin."

"As do I."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #answered prompt #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #rowaelin modern au #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction

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reidsweetener · 1 year

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tw/ diet/ed * omg imagine bimbo!r gets scouted to be a model right? buuuut the contract seems a little … unfair. she’s just all for it, she’s ready to sign anything and everything to be a model. spencer is like “umm… this diet is impossible. jesus christ y/n if you turn to the side you’ll be invisible if u do this shit!” and the whole thing wasn’t even legit. so she’s extremely bummed and reid cheers her up with words of affirmations and tons and tons of kisses.

bimbo!r gets scouted at the mall! and she's obviously elated, but she atleast knows she can't sign a contract at random — both spencer and her dad have that ingrained in her brain — she's giddy and bouncing, and actually gives spencer's contact number and email instead of hers!🥹🥹✨✨

and when spencer skims through it, he's like absolutely not, it has so many legal loopholes and blatant exploitation clauses that he's convinced it couldn't have been real. he explains it in detail to reader, and she's obviously pouty; she's basically born to be a model! she loves attention, the clothes, the travel and the shopping. but it's ppl like those fake agents that just makes her enthusiasm of the industry dwindle.

reid would try to cheer her up with words of affirmation and lots of kisses and cuddles! he'd make you pick your favorite movie, and order some takeout in, and he'd just hold you until you're your usual bright self again🥰🥰

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x bimbo reader #spencer reid x bimbo!reader #spencer reid

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dudethatsmyundeaduncle · 4 days

Text

Tim Drake's Mom is actually Lara Croft! AU

After getting pregnant Lara Croft disappears off the face of the earth, takes up a shell company in Gotham left to her by her father, and assumes the identity Janet Drake.

(DC made Timmy's parents archeologists! so Sis it was between Indiana Jones or the Tomb Raider and well here we are!)

___________________________________________________________

Lara Croft has a daring archeological adventure/world saving mission with a dashing man she only knows as N. Drake (if u know u know) and finds out she's pregnant weeks after.

Lara Croft did not expect to be Pregnant. Lara knows that she shouldn't have a baby. She knows this intellectually and emotionally, she doesn't have any family left and after nearly 10 years of traveling the globe and putting herself in life or death situations she knows her life can't accommodate children. Lara knows the responsible thing to do, she makes an appointment with NHS/MSI and focuses on her next project. (TW: Discussion of Abortion)

Lara never gets her appointment. She misses her abortion date in London when she gets caught up in another mad expedition that takes her half way across the world.

On this mission she nearly looses everything, her friends, her own life, what's left of her father's legacy, all for a semi cursed magical artifact that nearly blows up the South American Coast.

Lara's tired, scared, she's been running from Trinity (evil org) for nearly a decade now . She's 29, she's 5 months pregnant, and she's stuck floating on her back in the middle of the South Atlantic sea watching the sky burn.

Lara's rich she could always get the abortion, legally or otherwise, her father left her a billionaire and the souvenirs she'd collected from her travels do nothing but add to that wealth.

Trinity wants Lara Croft dead, they'll never stop chasing, and Lara just wants respite. She wants her quaint childhood in the English countryside with her father, she wants to curl up and sleep for a thousand years. She wants to be someone else, just for a moment.

Her heart beats wildly in her chest and she can almost feel another heart beating alongside it.

Lara Croft makes a decision. She sinks into the sea and doesn't come back up for air even when it burns.

On the shore a nameless woman washes up, water logged and looking for passage to America.

The Croft's have had shell companies for years, one can't be a billionaire these days without at least a few, Medi-industries is an unassuming medical supplier located in Gotham, New Jersey the crime capital of North America. It's the perfect place to disappear.

Janet Drake Lands in Gotham on a gloomy morning in March, she's got enough money to throw around that people forget to ask what family she's from, this is Gotham new money is nearly unheard of.

By mid April Janet has reestablished control of Medi-Industries, Now Drake Industries, and purchased an old English style mansion in Bristol, which the real-estate agent has assured her is a great neighborhood.

Timothy Jackson Drake is born July 19th at nearly 3 in the morning squalling high into the night like a banshee. He is perfectly healthy and perfectly safe in Janet's arms.

It is only in the safety of their home, in the house Janet picked, because it was high on a hill for tactical advantage and had bullet proof glass nestled between quaint wood paneled windows, It is only in the heart of Drake Manor that Lara dares to Whisper her son's name

"Timothy Jackson Croft"

-------------------------

AU ALSO INCLUDES!

Badass Lara Croft being the cool mom TM

A family portrait of the Drakes, Including Janet, baby Tim, and a mysterious Jack Drake (who was a very discreet and well paid member of Gotham's theatre society, and who was also more then happy to pose as a rich ladies dead husband for a day)

A Socttish Nanny/Housekeeper with a very keen eye and discreet mouth who will not tell a soul that she is fairly sure she's employed by Lord Richard Croft's, eccentric billionares, missing daughter.

precocious and slightly British accented baby Tim who gets to have his Mom with him for 10 whole years! before she inevitably runs back off to save the world

Tim being unaware of his mother's past life beyond her name until the age of 13 when he becomes Robin and is able to actually find out what his mom's been protecting him from his whole life.

I imagine in this AU that eventually Trinity finally catches wind of where Lara is hiding and she has a big confrontation with them in New Jersey. It's way too close to Gotham and Tim for her comfort, she knows this is the only chance she'll get to control the chaos.

So she packs Tim up to move him into the dorms at Gotham Academy and promises she'll write and be home for his birthday in the summer. After she's finished her "company" business first of course.

Tim's confused but he trusts his mom, he gets unsigned postcards from all over the world and pins them above his bed in the dorm and goes to sleep trying to guess what country she's in every night.

The move to the dorm is kind of cool to Tim as well because it means he can start his plan to follow Batman and Robin in the city! (in this AU there's no way Lara wouldn't have noticed him sneaking out at 9, but Gotham academy security? totally oblivious)

Tim celebrates his 10th birthday with his mom at home, he has so many freaking questions about where she was! and she tells him outlandish stories about daring fights and cursed artifacts that he rolls his eyes at but enjoys none the less.

it isn't till he's 15 that his Robin work and his mom's adventures cross paths.

After so many years of close calls, of hiding bruises from his mom with same concealer she uses to hide her own wounds, of wondering if it was selfish to wish his Mom cared a little bit less about the world and would stay with him for more then a few weeks at a time. Finally it all comes to a head in the worst way. Lara Croft's latest adventure puts her right in the middle of a Bat Level investigation. It has Tim near loosing his mind with worry hoping his mom is alive and Lara having the worst freakout/Blow up of her life realizing her son has been putting himself in Danger every night she thought he was safe.

The Drake/Crofts are messy! Bad at communicating! And unfortunately the exact same kind of reckless and self sacrificing!

Fun food for thought:

Lara canonically is a killer, if you've played any of the reboot Tomb Raider series she can be pretty gruesome and efficient! Very cool! Jason would stan! Tim is kind of appalled! Lara is glad Tim's never killed, that he's never had to.

Lara still dies in this AU but it's in a big Trinity X Obeah Man X Captain Boomerang Cluster fuck where Lara finishes off Trinity and Obeah Man for good but looses her own life in the process. Tim is devastated, he feels like they were just starting to really be 100% transparent with each other before her death. Que Tim's not good very bad year!

if you've made it this far in my rambles here's a treat! I actually wrote a lil fuckin blurb for this!

preface: This the first time Robin and Lara Croft have ever met/are on the same mission.

___________

" mom!" Tim shouts, running before Bruce can even properly land the BatJet.

The old temple is ablaze, the ancient structure already half crumbled in on itself with what's left of it is spewing out clouds of jet black smoke.

Tim's mother limps out what was once the front entrance clutching at her ribs.

She's filthy, covered in a thick layer of dirt and grime. but she's got on a triumphant smile like the cat who got the cream.

" Mom!" Tim yells again watching as she does a double take at his choice of moniker.

Her mouth twists in a grimace as she stumbles and Tim dives under her arm quickly moving to support her left side.

Lara Croft meets the white lenses of Red Robin's eyes in confusion

" What'd you call me?" She slurs trying to blink away the smoke inhalation that makes it hard to focus and leaves her lightheaded.

Lara's right ankle which took the brunt of a very nasty dive from a very high perch, not 20 minutes earlier as she raced out of the Dead Kings Tomb, finally gives up the ghost and she pitches forward taking Red Robin with her.

He's young, she thinks, he's very young.

Before either of them can hit the ground Batman intercepts their fall hefting Lara into a secure hold.

Red Robin catches himself and latches onto Lara's hand.

He yanks off one of his gloves and tries to wipe some of the grime out of her eyes.

" Mum" he croaks this time, voice breaking nearly in half on the last syllable.

Lara furrows her brow, the cowl covers so much of this young man's face, from his nose too his brow bone, but his chin is startlingly familiar as is his absolutely atrocious British accent.

He reminds her terribly of Timothy.

" Tim" she says deliriously, Lara tries to smile but her eyes start to droop and her head lolls slack against Bruce's arm. She's clean out.

Tim makes an odd lunge and jerk movement pressing his fingers into her carotid artery to feel her pulse.

He's shaking, more wrong footed and anxious then Bruce has ever seen him.

Batman is extremely grateful when Nightwing comes up behind him and gently pulls his younger brother's hands away from his mother's comatose body.

" She's fine Red. We need to get her on board so we can get her some oxygen though, the smoke inhalation is getting to her. "

" Right" Tim says, still frozen in place. He shakes it off quickly " Right." he repeats pivoting in place and leading their small party through the remains of the ruins and back to the jet.

" I'll prep the med bay."

--------

pics or it didn't happen! (ps, if u wanna write, draw, or HC anything for this AU feel free my lads)

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 9 months

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hi can you do #1 and #50 with alex blake

Heyyyy anon, thanks for the request! Yea, I’d love to write this for you!! Alex Blake is a queen, and I love writing for her 👑💋

Know Your Place, Beneath Me… ~Alex Blake xFem Consultant!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#1. “You think you can top me?”

#50. “Bend over.”

Warnings: NSFW, teasing, age gap (all legal), spanking, implied overstimulation, implied smut, grinding, kissing, pet names, implied praise kink, implied spanking kink…?, etc.

Enjoy (;

Another serial killer had brought the team to the big apple, New York City.

And this particular unsub left lengthy and cryptic messages all over his crime scenes. Due to this, the NYPD had already called in a Linguistics specialist before the BAU arrived.

You were in your really early twenties and already had your doctorate and a PhD. You were the linguistics and behavioral traveling consultant whom the NYPD had called upon. You had just gotten back from a case over in Europe where you had been working with the Scotland Yard.

Meeting the BAU was almost like a breath of fresh air. One agent in particular, a perky blonde, who mad wit very clear that she was not usually in person on cases, left an impression. For once, you had a group of people in the room who could all keep up with you. Well, all except Dr. Alex Blake were a breath of fresh air…

Agent Blake was the linguistics specialist for the BAU who also had a doctorate and a PhD, although she was a considerable amount of years older than you (old enough to be your mother)…

From the moment you met the team, you could sense the tension in her voice.

“Dr. Alex Blake.” She firmly introduced herself with a nod.

~~~

“We have the conference room set up for you, let me know if there’s anything else.” The Captain told the BAU team and you.

“Thank you.” Hotch said, then directing his attention to his team, “Alright, we’re going to split up, Reid and JJ will go to the ME, Garcia and Morgan will go to the first crime scene, Rossi and I will go the second, and Blake will stay, analyzing the writings and what we already know, working with Dr. L/N.”

Alex pursed her lips and tensed up slightly at this.

“Everything alright, Blake?” Hotch asked.

The brunette agent merely nodded and then headed off into the conference room.

~~~

You had already gotten started on the unsub’s writing, when Dr. Blake stepped into the room, leaving the door behind her only slightly ajar.

“It seems we’ll be working together on this case…” you murmured aloud.

“It seems so…” the brunette hummed, making her way over to the paper filled table and partially organized bulletin board.

Her eyes scanned the papers, taking in your work so far.

“What have you found so far?” She asked.

You sighed lightly.

“Well… The writer is male, multi-cultural, probably multi-lingual, well educated. He is stressed, or at least governed by a good amount of negative emotions. And much more…” you huffed.

Dr. Blake raised her brows slightly at what you had already perceived.

“Why multi-lingual?”

“In his writings, the unsub uses multiple British English terms, as if that was what he was taught if English were his second language, and his word order is not as synonymous with an English language, but rather one of the romantic languages…” you explained.

Alex have you a hum in response.

~~~

The long day finally came to a end, meaning you finally got to retire to your hotel room for the night, which coincidentally happened to be the same hotel that the BAU team was staying at.

You rode the elevator up and walked down the floor to your room. On your way, you clocked the one and only Dr. Alex Blake a couple of doors down, entering a hotel room of her own.

Of course, she had a room in the exact same hotel, on the exact same floor, and only a few doors away from you…

You sighed, too tired to deal with the the thought of that brunette, so you simply entered your room and went to bed.

~~~

Your next day on the case wasn’t much better than the first, although you and Dr. Blake did make some progress with the unsub’s letters.

By noon, you were exhausted and hungry.

“I’m going to go down the street and grab a sandwich, do you want anything…?” You asked the older brunette.

“Sounds great, I’d love one…” she sighed, taking her eyes off the papers for the first time in hours.

“What would you like…?” You asked, while grabbing your bag.

“Pastrami and cheese would be great…” she hummed.

You hummed back in response, leaving out the door.

~~~

By the end of the night, neither you nor Dr. Blake could take a single look at any more papers, you were both so exhausted.

You turned in for the night, going back to your hotel room. But you found that the case kept you awake. At a certain point, you accepted that your mind wasn’t going to relent, so you got up and pulled out the case from your bag. But this didn’t help much either.

Suddenly, you heard a knock on the door. You grabbed a bath robe and went to answer the door. None other than Dr. Alex Blake stood in front of you…

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought you might be the same…” she tiringly explained.

You hummed in response.

“And I brought wine…” she added.

You chuckled, seeing Blake hold up a bottle of red and two glasses, “Come in.”

You pulled out the two chairs from the corner of your room with a small table, where you and the brunette sat yourselves with long sighs. The table still had your case files spread all over it. Alex opened the bottle and began pouring in silence. The first sips were also taken in silence. Like the world had paused for a moment…

“No new leads…?” Alex spoke up, breaking the silence, indicating to all the case files in the table.

You groaned slightly and rubbed your temples, “No… It’s like staring at an overdone crossword puzzle… Eventually everything you look at becomes stubborn and frustrating…”

Alex chuckled lightly at your comparison. Silence took the room again, the only sound being your drinking.

“You are quite good, you know…” Alex hummed.

You looked up at the woman in light shock. In the time that you had known the brunette, she never was one to give compliments…

“For your age…” She added on with a chuckle.

At that, you sent her a quizzical look. The alcohol was starting to take into affect…

“What’s that supposed to mean…?”

“You’re young, green, but you’re good.”

“Just because someone is young, doesn’t mean they aren’t inherently good at the job…” you huffed.

“I didn’t say that…” Blake clarified.

“No, but you implied it…” you muttered.

“Ok, do I believe that more seasoned agents are more likely to be better at the job? Yes. But that doesn’t make the newer agents inherently bad…” she rambled.

“But newer agents bring in new techniques, new ideas. They bring new motivation.” You argued.

“You seriously think you could top me 1 v 1…??” Blake chuckled.

Your breath hitched. Your pupils enlarged, and your gaze met the brunette’s.

Your mind went straight to the gutter with her choice of words…

“You think you can top me?” You challenged, with a seductive edge to your tone.

Blake cocked an eyebrow at your words and new direction in tone. When she didn’t answer, you got up from your chair and walked over to the brunette, trapping her in her chair with each arm on either side of her. You were in her face, grinning, and Alex was going to have none of that.

“Bend over.” She stated.

You were drawn a back a little.

“I… what…?” You stuttered.

“I said, Bend over…” she commanded.

You gulped. But you did as you were told. You bent over the older brunettes lap.

~~~

By the time Blake had finished, picked you up, and placed you in her lap— your ass was fiery red, arousal was dripping down your thighs, your face was flushed, and your breathing was rapid and erratic.

“I… that was… wow…” you stammered.

The brunette chuckled, before connecting her lips to yours. You moaned into the kiss eagerly, desperately grinding into her lap. You then quickly stood up, pulling Alex up with you. You began stripping, but she stopped you. Instead, she pushed you onto the bed, crawling on top of you.

“Don’t…” she purred, “I want to take my time with you…”

You sucked your breath in and nodded slowly.

“Yes please…” you whispered.

“Good girl…” Alex murmured, starting to kiss every available piece of skin she can reach.

~~~

Alex Blake Masterlist

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