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satellite-evans · 13 days ago

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just rain

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando claims his first win of the season in a rain-soaked Melbourne Grand Prix with a gentle reminder of his son.

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: fluff, anxiety

A/N:

picture credits @pucksandpitlanes <3

AHHHHHH LANDO WON IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM!!!! I couldn't watch bc of time zones but when is saw it in the morning I was soooo 🥹🥹🥹

also Alex being higher than the ferraris was NOT on my bingo card lol but im super excited for him too🤎

I overdramatized the race a bit and it is not 100 % accurate 😅

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sky was breaking open.

What had been a perfect, cloudless Saturday — where everything had felt possible — was now a roaring mess of water and wind.

The same track that had held his first pole position of the season now looked like a stranger.

Lando stood by his car, helmet tucked under his arm, rain sliding off his race suit in steady streams, like the sky itself was crying for him.

He was trying — really trying — to get his head straight.

But it was hard.

Hard when the weight of every near-miss, every mistake, every podium that wasn’t a win pressed on his shoulders.

Hard when the image of Max in São Paulo, slicing through the rain like it wasn’t even there, looped in his mind, taunting him.

This was supposed to be his day.

Pole was supposed to mean something.

But now, all he could think about was how easily rain could take that away.

What if I mess it up? What if I lose everything? What if-

“Daddy?”

The small voice broke through the storm in his head like sunshine through clouds.

He turned.

There was Noah — rain dripping from the ends of his jacket, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes wide and honest and full of something Lando had lost in the last few hours: belief.

You hovered just behind him, watching quietly, giving them space.

Lando crouched down, resting his arms on his knees to meet Noah at eye level.

“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, though his throat felt tight. "You okay out here in the rain?"

Noah frowned, taking a step closer until he was right up in Lando’s space, hands reaching to tug gently at Lando’s suit.

“I am okay, but why are you not okay, Daddy?” he asked, tilting his head. "Aren’t you gonna win? You said you were gonna win."

Lando let out a breath, a shaky laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"I know, mate. I… I wanna win." His voice cracked at the end.

Noah blinked up at him, unbothered by the rain hitting his face. "Then why are you sad?"

Lando hesitated. What could he even say? Because sometimes winning feels impossible? Because I don’t know if I’m good enough? Because I'm scared?

Instead, he shrugged, offering a small, forced smile.

“It’s raining a lot,” he finally said, as if that explained the weight in his chest.

But Noah just gave him a look — the same look Lando had given you a thousand times when he thought you were worrying too much.

“It’s just rain, Daddy," Noah said matter-of-factly. "We like rain.”

Lando blinked, caught off guard.

"You always chase me in the rain," Noah continued, smiling now, that childhood certainty glowing in his eyes. "You say it makes you run faster. And you always catch me, even if I’m the fastest runner ever."

A soft laugh broke from Lando's lips, something warmer, something real.

"And Mommy always says we’ll get sick but you don’t care," Noah went on, as if this were the most important fact in the world.

"You say, 'It’s just rain, Noah. Rain makes us faster.’”

Lando’s throat tightened.

For a second, he couldn't speak.

Because in that moment, through all the noise and pressure and fear, his son had reminded him of something he’d forgotten:

Who he was.

Not just a driver. Not just a number on a screen.

But Noah’s dad. Your partner. Someone who could be brave when it mattered.

Lando reached out and pulled Noah into a hug, pressing his face into the crook of his tiny shoulder, breathing in the rain and the smell of his son — like grass and soap and home.

"You're right, little man," he whispered, voice thick. "It's just rain."

He pulled back, brushing wet curls from Noah’s face.

"And you think I'm faster than everyone, huh?"

Noah grinned, eyes lighting up. "You’re faster than everyone, Daddy! Even if it's raining forever!"

Lando let out a real laugh this time, warmth blooming in his chest.

He looked up to find you, standing there with your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth, but smiling, tears quietly mixing with the rain on your cheeks.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and you gave him a nod — small, but enough to say we believe in you.

Lando stood, keeping Noah’s little hand in his, squeezing gently.

“Okay, buddy. I’m gonna win that trophy for you.”

“Yay!” Noah beamed. “But you can keep it for your shelf... if you want.”

Lando chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Noah’s head.

“No, I think it belongs in your room.”

Noah’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with pride, as though his father had just promised to conquer the world for him. In that moment, the rain didn’t feel so heavy. The doubts that had plagued Lando’s mind were still there, but the weight of them didn’t seem quite as unbearable with Noah at his side.

And you — your smile, your quiet support — made the world seem possible again.

As they walked toward the pit lane, Lando felt a shift inside of him. The rain wasn’t a burden anymore. It was a challenge. A reminder that no matter how many times life tried to knock him down, he could always get back up. Just like he always did when Noah ran faster than him, laughing, his tiny feet splashing through puddles.

Lando squeezed his son’s hand tighter.

"Let’s show ‘em what we’ve got, buddy."

With a nod from Noah and a final glance at you, Lando felt the familiar rush of determination surge through him.

This wasn’t just about the race anymore.

It was about being the man he promised to be — not just for himself, but for the ones who believed in him.

The Australian Grand Prix was shaping up to be a classic.

As the cars lined up on the grid in Melbourne, the drizzle had kept the track damp, just enough to keep the tire choices uncertain. It wasn’t the heavy rain that everyone had feared, but it was far from perfect racing conditions. Still, Lando sat in P1, his hands firmly gripping the wheel, his focus set on one thing: keeping that lead.

The McLaren car was well-suited to the conditions, and Lando had a good start. The lights went out, and he got off the line clean, his heart racing in sync with the growl of the engine as he took off into Turn 1. He held his ground, blocking Max, who was gunning for the lead, while Oscar — his teammate and the home hero — was hot on his heels in P3.

The track was slick, but Lando’s experience in these tricky conditions helped him build an early gap. His McLaren was light and agile, its handling sharp as he darted through the twists of the Melbourne layout. Verstappen, however, wasn’t far behind. The Red Bull driver was a constant shadow, ready to pounce at the slightest mistake.

By the first pit window, the rain had picked up a bit more, turning the track into a quagmire of uncertainty. Tire choices were a gamble — intermediate tires or full wets? The crew had to decide quickly, and they were calling for intermediates as the rain began to settle. Lando glanced nervously at the sky but held his ground. “Let’s stay out a bit longer,” he told his team, his voice steady but with a hint of doubt. Don’t get greedy, just don’t make a mistake.

Max pitted early, pushing for the full wets as he believed the track was getting too slick for anything else. He rejoined the circuit behind Lando, but it was clear he was closing the gap, his tires cutting through the water more effectively than Lando’s.

Just as the McLaren pit crew started to signal for a pit stop — the conditions changing rapidly — the first Safety Car period was called. A rookie crashed heavily into the barriers, bringing the race to a halt. Lando’s heart raced again as he followed the Safety Car. Was this a blessing or a curse? The rain had intensified even further, and the conditions were treacherous. Oscar, who had been showing great pace, was caught out in the slippery conditions, skidding onto the grass, and although he tried to recover, he struggled to get back on track in time. He was forced to return to the pits, ultimately falling back to P13.

Now it felt like a battle between Lando, Max, and the rest of the pack. But just as they prepared to go racing again, the rain poured down harder, the track quickly becoming a slippery mess. It was a delicate balance for Lando, who was managing the lead with grit and skill but was well aware that Max was waiting to pounce.

The green flag waved again, and the cars shot back out into the mix, Lando still holding off the charging Verstappen.

Lap after lap, Lando danced on the edge of control. Every corner was a fight, every moment a test of his patience and skill. The McLaren’s rear end was constantly sliding out, but Lando somehow kept it in line. He could feel Verstappen breathing down his neck, waiting for him to make a mistake — and then, it came.

The rain intensified in a sudden downpour, and the track became a slick, unpredictable nightmare. The tires couldn’t keep up, and the grip was nonexistent. As Lando tried to brake for Turn 4, his tires locked up, and he was forced to take a detour through the gravel, his heart nearly stopping as he fought to stay on the track. He got back on just in time to gain his way back to P1.

Lando was far from done.

He set his sights forward, telling himself to focus — just focus. The rain was lashing down, but with each lap, Lando found his rhythm again, using the high-speed corners to his advantage, keeping the McLaren planted while others struggled.

A second Safety Car came out as Jack Doohan spun into the gravel, and just as quickly, the race was halted once again. The field bunched up, and Lando’s mind raced. He could feel the pressure of it all — a season opener, a potential win slipping through his fingers as Verstappen loomed behind him.

And then, when it seemed like he was about to lose his edge, Lando had a moment of clarity. He’d thought about Noah — his little boy, his voice in his head, telling him, "You’re faster than everyone, Daddy."

Lando could feel his son’s words ignite a fire inside him. He wasn’t racing to prove anything to anyone else, but to show Noah, to show himself, that no storm, no matter how wild, could stop him.

When the Safety Car came in again, Lando took a deep breath. The track was as slippery as ever, but the fight wasn’t over.

Lando’s heart was hammering. He was in the lead, and with the final few corners in sight, he pushed his car to the edge. The track had dried just enough, but the pressure on him was unbearable. He took a deep breath and crossed the line with the loudest, most cathartic roar of his life.

Lando Norris had done it. He had won.

P1.

He couldn’t believe it.

The rain had made this race a battle of attrition, and as he eased into the cooldown lap, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.

He slowly lifted his hand to the radio and spoke to his team, his voice shaky with emotion.

“Oooph! Little bit of pressure, well done boys. Beautifully handled. Excuted to the second. One second later and we were done so well done everyone. Congrats, amazing way to start the year. Thank you so much. This one was for you, Noah.”

The world exploded in cheers as the McLaren pit crew erupted, their joy a mix of disbelief and ecstasy. But through the noise, Lando only had one thing on his mind: you and Noah.

He couldn’t wait to share this with his little boy and with the love of his life.

Lando brought the car back to the pit lane. He could hear the roar of the crowd, the fans cheering from the stands, even as the noise inside his helmet began to fade. He blinked, trying to keep his focus, but his hands were still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. His chest felt tight, like he was trying to contain all the emotions swirling inside him — relief, pride, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

He had done it.

He had won. P1.

As the car coasted into the pit box, the team was already waiting. The McLaren crew flooded around him, clapping and shouting, their faces beaming with joy. But Lando barely registered any of it. His eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for the two faces that meant the most to him — you and Noah.

The cheering around him felt distant, almost muted, as if it wasn’t real. But seeing you, standing by the barriers, your eyes wide with emotion, was like a splash of cold water. The world around him snapped back into focus. He could see Noah next to you, bouncing up and down, his small face lit up with excitement.

Lando’s heart swelled.

He quickly removed his helmet, his wet hair clinging to his forehead, and climbed out of the car. He could feel the weight of his win, but in that moment, it felt lighter. He was overwhelmed by how much this meant to him. It wasn’t just the victory, it was that he had made it — for himself, for you, and for Noah.

Before the team even had a chance to celebrate properly, he was walking toward you.

“Daddy! You did it!” Noah cried out, his voice high-pitched with excitement. Lando's eyes softened, and he dropped to one knee, his arms open wide.

Noah ran straight into his arms, as Lando hugged him tight, holding him close like he had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime. The rain still fell lightly, but it didn’t matter. All the chaos of the race, the uncertainty, the fear — it was gone.

“I did it, buddy,” Lando whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We did it.”

“You’re the fastest, Daddy!” Noah exclaimed, his small hands grabbing onto Lando’s race suit. “I knew you were!”

Lando chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at his son. “You knew, huh? You were right all along.”

Noah nodded vigorously, his smile as wide as it could go. “You told me you were faster than everyone. And you are!”

Lando’s chest tightened at his words. He had said it to Noah so many times, almost as a promise, a reassurance that no matter what, he could always come out on top. He had made sure to tell Noah that on the tough days, on the days where it felt like nothing was going right, but now it was reality.

And it was because of you and Noah that he had found the strength to keep pushing.

Lando stood up, holding Noah in his arms as he walked toward you. The world seemed to slow as his gaze locked with yours.

You were smiling, but there was something else there — something that said “I knew you could do it”. You were just as emotional as he was. Your eyes glistened with pride, but there was a tenderness in your expression that made him feel like he was home.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Lando’s voice was rough with emotion as he reached out for your hand.

You nodded, your hand fitting perfectly into his. “I never doubted you for a second.”

He leaned in, his eyes soft as he looked at you — the weight of the moment hanging in the air. Without thinking, he pulled you into him, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was full of emotion. It was gentle at first, a quiet acknowledgment of everything he had been holding inside.

For a moment, time seemed to slow, and Lando could feel the joy and relief in that single kiss. It wasn’t just the victory he was celebrating, but the shared understanding between the two of you — the quiet support, the unwavering belief, the love.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a beat longer, as if he didn’t want to let the moment slip away. "I couldn't have done it without you," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

Noah squirmed in Lando’s arms, eager to get down and join the celebrations. Lando carefully set him down, and Noah immediately ran off toward the McLaren crew, who were cheering and clapping for the win.

As Noah ran off, Lando turned to you, the full weight of the victory finally sinking in.

“I didn’t think it was going to happen, not with the rain, not with Max so close,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I almost lost it.”

You smiled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair out of his face. “But you didn’t. You held it together, even when it was tough.”

Lando nodded, his heart full. “I had to. For you, for Noah. I couldn’t let this slip away.”

“You didn’t. And look at you now.” You cupped his face gently, your thumbs brushing over his wet skin. “You’re amazing, Lando.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the quiet moment before the world around him started to roar again. But it didn’t matter. He had done it.

The sound of the crowd cheering filled the air, and Lando turned back to watch his team. His crew was celebrating with Noah in the center, lifting him up in excitement. It wasn’t just his victory, it was theirs too. They had all worked for this moment, and Lando could feel the bond between him and his team, his family, stronger than ever.

As the team ushered him toward the podium for the celebrations, he couldn’t stop smiling. His eyes sought yours one more time, and in that glance, everything was clear. This was just the beginning.

As the excitement of the podium celebrations slowly faded, the atmosphere began to settle. The noise of the crowd dimmed as the McLaren team gathered to wind down, still congratulating Lando for his incredible win. It was time for the world to return to normal — at least for a little while.

The rain had stopped during the post-race celebrations, but the sky had once again darkened, and soon enough, the first raindrops began to fall, soft and steady, like a quiet whisper.

Lando was supposed to be getting ready for the press conferences, and Noah had been escorted back to the team’s area, his energy barely contained after all the excitement. But as the minutes ticked by, you found yourself standing near the pit lane, looking around, trying to spot them — Lando and Noah.

They had been with you just moments ago, but now, there was no sign of either of them. You checked the garage. No luck. You headed toward the pit, but nothing. The sound of the rain grew louder, and you could feel the cool droplets on your skin, the familiar scent of wet pavement filling the air.

As you were about to turn back toward the team area, you heard a familiar laugh.

You looked up. There they were.

Lando and Noah were standing near one of the back entrances to the track, the two of them laughing and completely drenched. Lando’s jacket was already soaked, but he didn’t seem to mind. Noah, in his little race suit, was jumping up and down, splashing in the growing puddles, his face glowing with pure joy.

Lando had both arms raised, pretending to be a goalkeeper as he blocked Noah’s wild attempts to splash him with water. They were in their own little world — no race, no press conferences, no podiums, just the rain and the playful chaos of it all.

And for a moment, it felt like everything had slowed down again, just like it had on the track.

You smiled to yourself, watching them. The rain didn’t bother them; if anything, it seemed to make the moment even more special. You could hear Noah shout over the rain, his voice filled with glee, “Come on, Mommy! It’s just rain! You can do it too!”

Lando caught sight of you, his eyes lighting up with mischief. He shrugged with a grin, as if to say it’s just rain, no big deal.

Noah ran toward you, water splashing with every step. “Mommy, come play!” He giggled, his face streaked with joy and raindrops. “It’s fun! Daddy says it’s just rain!”

Lando was right behind him, shaking his head in mock exasperation but his smile betraying the playfulness in his voice. “Come on, babe, it’s just a bit of water. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You could see the way Noah looked up at you with those wide, hopeful eyes. You couldn’t say no.

With a sigh, you gave in. “Fine, fine.”

You stepped forward, and in a moment of complete surrender, you joined them, letting the rain soak through your clothes as you took a running leap into the nearest puddle with Noah. The splash was enormous, and Noah shrieked with delight, running off to jump in the next puddle.

Lando joined you, laughing, as the three of you danced and played under the darkening sky, the rain falling harder now but somehow feeling like the perfect way to celebrate the day.

For that fleeting moment, there was no world beyond the sound of Noah’s laughter, the rain crashing down, and Lando’s teasing calls as he splashed you and Noah. The storm had come back, but instead of being a nuisance, it was the backdrop to a perfect family moment.

“Look at us,” Lando said between laughs, his hair soaked and his face flushed with happiness. “We’re all drenched and I couldn’t be happier.”

You caught Noah as he tried to leap into a particularly big puddle, lifting him up and holding him close. His wet hair clung to his forehead, but his smile never faded.

“This is the best thing ever!” Noah giggled, kicking his feet playfully.

“You sure know how to make a rainy day perfect, don’t you, bud?” Lando said, holding you close as you both watched your son’s joyful antics.

“Just rain,” you said softly, your gaze meeting Lando’s. The chaos of the day had faded into the background. What mattered now was here — this moment, with Lando and Noah, playing and laughing in the rain.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there just a moment longer. “It’s just rain,” he whispered, and for the first time today, you didn’t mind the rain at all.

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formulamar · 3 months ago

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CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG GF | PROLOGUE

max verstappen x femalereader

680 words

➛ disclaimer ➛

seven year age gap. please do not read if it makes you uncomfortable!!! completely fictional.

When you began to go out with Max Verstappen you anticipated for the news to make the celebrity gossip pages and cause an uproar among his fans. Afterall, it was Max Verstappen – four time world champion - you could hardly believe it yourself!

Miraculously, you and Max dated for six months without any interference from the media. It's not like your relationship was a secret or anything. Like any other couple you went out to the movies and dinned at nice restaurants. But early on in your relationship you discovered Max was a homebody, like you! So as you grew closer most of your time together consisted of hanging out at his apartment or yours watching movies or talking for hours. Still, everyone in your inner circle was astounded at how long you were able to maintain your relationship out of the media's radar.

Once you hit the six-month mark and it became clear to both you and Max that your relationship was serious you had a discussion about how outside discourse from the media would affect your relationship. Although you had only been with Max for six months you had witnessed how invasive fans and the media could be. You constantly saw articles discussing Max's private relationships with his family and his team. Every word, every action, every glance was examined and scrutinized. Max often joked that the more interviews he did the more he wished to move somewhere isolated and live out the rest of his days with you far from the judgment of anyone else. But you knew he loved driving too much to retire so early on in his career even with all of his success.

As always Max was direct, "The media is going to be annoying. They're going to make up the most ridiculous stories you've ever heard. Honestly, the best thing we can do is try ignore them as much as we can." You both agreed, the smartest decision was to take control of the narrative instead of running the risk of having your relationship leaked. So you decided to attend a beginning of the season Redbull event with Max. It was a well documented event and important media figures and photographers would be present. The timing was a bonus. Everyone was focused on the upcoming season and most of their curiosity was concentrated on the new car rather than the personal lives of the drivers. It was a perfect way to debut your relationship to the media.

That night approached quickly, and it would be a lie to say it wasn't one of the most nerve-racking nights of your life. As someone who wasn't famous it was intimidating to be exposed to that world. Luckily, your boyfriend saved you from overthinking. Max was reassuring and attentive the entire night. On the car ride to the event, he made sure to hold your hand and make casual conversation as if it were any other night. He also organized for you guys to enter through the back, away from the paparazzi. Throughout the whole night he barely left your side and when he did he made sure you were comfortable. These small details helped you stay grounded.

Overall, it was a good night. It was nice to finally meet members of the team who had such close bonds with Max. You loved hearing all the stories about Max's victories and his race weekend habits. It was obvious that his team adored him and that only confirmed what you had felt in your heart since the day you first met him -- he was a keeper. You and Max went home confident that you had beaten the media. What could they even say? Max was in a new relationship and he was happy. There was nothing else to it.

Except you made the mistake of glossing over a detail the media would never forget. Before you, Max had only dated women older than him. And you were seven years younger than Max.

The next morning you woke up with a new identity. Max Verstappen's controversially young girlfriend.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: happy 2025 everyone 🫧 i had this idea… so i decided to go through with posting the first part. i’m thinking writing + social media posts! what do we think??? i’m open to suggestions so don’t be afraid to comment or inbox me!

#max vertsappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #red bull racing #red bull f1 #red bull team #f1 smau #f1 fiction #f1 2025 #f1 fic #f1 fic rec #max verstappen x you #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #red bull formula 1 #red bull formula one #max emilian verstappen

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sizzlingcloudmentality · 29 days ago

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I REMEMBER READING THIS ON AO3. And I lost my shit then and there. And it's here, too, of course it is. Omg. I'm losing it all over again.

I'm rattling the bars of my horny jail cell, please never let me out because I will hunt you down for a forehead kiss and then I'll hunt the very fictional man Dave down for something different than a forehead kiss. OMG. I need floor time. And oxygen. I'm so normal about this.

The Violence of You

Pairing: Dave York x f!Reader

Rating: E (Smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: THIS IS DARK. Rough sex, BDSM elements, dom!Dave, sub!reader, Daddy kink, one (1) slap, humiliation, pain kink, spanking, knife play, blood play, hurt/comfort, good aftercare, soft!Dave

Summary: You’re so fucking predictable. You have a bad night, and you come crawling to him, the only person who can take all this pain inside you and do something with it.

A/N: Please heed the warnings. This popped into my head and I couldn’t let it go. Reader is a bit (or a lot) fucked up, Dave is secretly soft. Thank you to @pedropascalsx and @leslie-lyman for looking this over and assuring me I'm not insane. Or maybe it's just us three...

Masterlist

It’s late when the phone rings. Dave recognizes the number, but he answers it with his standard work greeting anyway.

“York.”

He’s greeted by a few moments of silence. He can hear the sound of shaky breathing, as if the person on the other end of the call is fighting to calm themselves down enough to speak. Finally, they do.

“Dave.”

“Been a long time,” he remarks quietly.

“Yeah.”

A few more beats of silence. Dave is patient, though. Dave waits.

“Will you come over?”

Dave doesn’t answer.

“I need you.”

Dave pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, but his cock is already stiffening in his pants at the thought of what will happen if he says ‘yes.’ Finally, he responds.

“Ask nicely, and we’ll see.”

“...Please.” The word is gritted out through clenched teeth as if it causes the speaker physical pain to utter it.

Dave rolls his eyes. “I’m not playing these games tonight. You have one more chance to ask the way you know you’re supposed to, or it’s not happening at all.”

For a few moments, all Dave can hear are those shaky breaths again. If it were anyone else, he would assume that the person was crying, but he knows better.

“Please… Daddy.”

Dave’s lips curl into a smile.

“That’s better.”

— — — — — — — — —

You can’t stop shaking.

It isn’t supposed to feel like this–it isn’t supposed to feel at all. You aren’t supposed to feel at all. It was supposed to have been beaten out of you years ago. If you asked most people, they’d say that you didn’t feel anything. You, the stone cold bitch. The heartless killer. The ice queen.

Dave York isn’t most people.

You’re so fucking predictable. You have a bad night, and you come crawling to him, the only person who can take all this pain inside you and do something with it. How long had you been at home before you gave in and called him? It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes. Ten minutes of staring at your blank walls, not knowing any other way to calm the tempest inside you.

No one else can do it quite like Dave York.

When the knock comes, you scramble for the door.

He’s a statue in the moonlight. It glints off of his skin, making him appear almost otherworldly. His face is neutral, a blank mask of indifference. His eyes sweep your form–down, then back up. He raises one eyebrow. It’s the only part of his face that moves.

“Rough night?”

You scoff. “You could say that.”

Dave moves, then, his hand coming up to grip your chin, tilting your head to the side as he examines the angry welt on your temple.

“Let someone get the better of you, huh?” he asks sardonically.

“You should see the other guy.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Dave’s other hand ghosts over the wound, achingly softly. His expression pulls downward into a slight frown as he takes in the bruised skin and dried blood.

“Don’t do that,” you murmur.

“Don’t do what?” Dave asks, playing dumb.

“You know what. Don’t be gentle. You know that’s not what I need.”

Dave’s grip on your chin turns bruising. He squeezes, hard enough that your lips are forced apart. “I don’t give a fuck what you say you need. I say what you need. Don’t I?”

That’s more like it. Your eyes close gratefully as you reply. “Yes.” You purposefully leave off half of that sentence, and you wait in anticipation for the backlash. It comes in the form of his thumb pressing against the broken skin, causing pain to radiate through your head. Good. You gasp out your correction.

“Yes Daddy.”

“Get inside.”

You’ve always had an odd relationship with pain. Even as a child, you’d dig your fingernails into your skin when your feelings felt as if they were too large for your head. The pain helps. You don’t want soft touches and tender sex after a bad day. You want someone with teeth, to make you really feel it. Pain grounds you, keeps you from floating away. You need someone to ground you.

Dave York forces you roughly to your knees the minute the door latches shut.

“Tell me our safeword,” he says flatly.

“Colt.”

“Good.” Dave unbuckles his belt. “I’ve missed this fucking mouth,” he growls as he unzips his pants and frees his cock. Your eyes threaten to roll when you see that he’s not wearing any underwear.

“Suck,” he commands.

You know he expects you to disobey. You usually do, when it’s a direct order like this. If he didn’t want to mess around, he wouldn’t bother with the command; he’d simply force your mouth open and feed it to you himself. The accompanying order is positively begging to be refused.

“No.”

There’s a satisfying crack as Dave’s hand connects with the uninjured side of your face. The pain smarts deliciously across your cheek. Dave doesn’t pull his punches.

Now he grabs your chin and pulls you onto his cock.

Dave doesn’t give you any time to recover from the slap, or relax your throat, or prepare in any way for the onslaught of his thrusts. He fucks your face with ruthless brutality, not seeming to care that you’re choking on him, or about the mess of tears and snot on your face that he’s creating. You feel drunk on the feeling of helplessness. Finally, you don’t have to think. You don’t have to act. You allow yourself to be used by him.

Just when you feel like you’re somehow adjusting to the feel of Dave’s cock ramming down your throat, he suddenly rips himself away, gripping his cock with a hiss of effort. He was about to cum. The way he’s looking at you, you know he’s not ready yet–you’re in for a long night.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Dave remarks, although you aren’t sure if he’s talking about the tears staining your cheeks or the way he knows you like this treatment. “Strip.”

You obey, stripping off the oversized t-shirt that you’d thrown on after showering off the sweat and grime as you waited for Dave to come over tonight. You awkwardly shove your loose pajama pants down your legs and kick them behind you, remaining on your knees for him. You’re bare underneath–there wasn’t much of a point of putting anything on, not when you knew that you’d end up like this.

“Bedroom,” he commands, and you dutifully start to rise to your feet. Dave shoves you back down, sending you sprawling to your hands and knees. “No,” he says. “Crawl.”

Sometimes you wonder if there’s any boundaries that you wouldn’t cross, if there’s anything that Dave could do that would make your brain say ‘Nope’ and your safeword to fall from your lips. So far, you haven’t found it. It’s fucking humiliating, crawling naked on your hands and knees while Dave follows behind you. The floor is hard and cold beneath you, and you focus on the bite of it on your skin as you move forward. You don’t hear Dave pulling his belt from his belt loops.

Crack.

You stumble to your elbows as the belt smarts against the backs of your thighs, close enough to your pussy that you can feel the burn of it. You grit your teeth and refuse to make a sound. You know what will happen; Dave will keep going, he won’t stop until something–a whimper, a cry, a moan–escapes you.You aren’t disappointed. Again and again, the belt comes down as you shuffle forward on your knees. Finally, after the eighth blister of pain, you break, and a little sob falls from your lips.

Dave doesn’t stop, but the intensity of the hits lessen somewhat. You smile inwardly. He never can help himself. That’s the funny thing about Dave York. His outer shell is damn-near impenetrable, the rough edges go deep, but contrary to what most people believe, they don’t go all the way to his core.

It’s fine, that edge runs deep enough that he’ll do some absolutely depraved shit with you, and that’s all you need.

You don’t need–or want–the softness that lurks inside.

There’s no gentleness to be found now as Dave grips you by the back of your neck and throws you on the bed. Your equilibrium is thrown off; you don’t have time to get your bearings before Dave is on you, straddling your thighs and pinning your hands above your head with one large hand. You struggle, only so he’s forced to hold you down harder. You buck against him and he makes a low noise in his throat. You keep going, trying in vain to wrench your hands free of his grip, squirming back and forth, letting out little grunts of effort until Dave is forced to act.

You freeze at the cold press of metal to the side of your neck.

“That shut you up, didn’t it?” Dave remarks, dragging the tip of the knife across your skin. “You’re a pain in Daddy’s ass, you know that?” The flat edge of the blade slides down to your chest as he talks. “Always fighting against what you want. What you need.”

“I need–” you gasp softly as the tip of the knife presses lightly against your sternum. “Yes. Do it.”

Dave’s eyes flash dark at your request. How far will Dave go? How much can you push him? What can you make this man do? You bat your eyelashes up at him. “Please, Daddy?”

You’re manipulating him, and Dave knows it. His lips purse into a frown, but he allows the knife to puncture the skin, drawing the smallest of beads of blood to the surface.

“You’re fucked up, you know that?” Dave murmurs as he watches you.

“Says the man digging the knife into my chest.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The tip digs in harder, and you sob in relief. This is what you need, you need to feel something, anything, to distract you from your thoughts.

“Yes,” you keen, arching your back to him. “Fuck, Dave, please. Dave–Daddy–” You babble for him, nonsense and pleas and cries of his name, anything, as long as he keeps it up.

You’re too far gone to see Dave’s conflicted expression as he digs the knife in further, causing the rivulet of blood to grow until the surface tension breaks and it runs down your chest, between your breasts.

Dave makes a low sound in his throat as he leans down to lathe the skin with his tongue, smearing the red across your chest as he takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks hard before biting down. Your cunt clenches around nothing, the biting mixture of pleasure and pain–mostly the latter, although you prefer it that way–making you wetter than ever. You start to buck your hips again, this time not to struggle, but to seek any kind of friction, to invite Dave in.

Dave chuckles softly and withdraws the knife, causing you to whimper. His hand grips your cheeks again, forcing your mouth open, and he wipes the blade on your exposed tongue.

“Clean Daddy’s knife off like a good girl,” Dave murmurs. “Such a depraved, filthy little thing. No one else would ever do this shit for you, would they? Just me.”

“Just you, Daddy,” you whisper in agreement.

“Turn over,” Dave commands. “Let me see how wet I make you.”

You obey thoughtlessly, getting on your knees with your ass in the air for him. He spreads you apart with his thumbs, his hands feeling almost clinical as he looks at you like this. The skin on the backs of your thighs is still tender from the belt, and Dave knows it, the way he squeezes them. More pain, he knows that's what you want. More, more, more. Maybe then you can finally let go.

"Fucking soaked," Dave remarks, his tone somewhere in between mocking and reverence.

He slaps your pussy twice for effect before he shoves his cock into you.

As wet as you are, you aren't ready–you never are, Dave always makes sure of that. It's been ages since you've felt him reaching that spot deep inside that no one else has ever seemed to be able to find, and you cry out with relief.

Dave seems to be thinking the same thing. "Fuck, been a long time since I've felt this pussy squeeze me," he groans out.

His hips slam against yours over and over, his cock hitting something that makes you ache. He's less than gentle, but it's still not enough.

"Daddy, please," you murmur under your breath.

"I know," Dave answers. "I know what you need. My pretty little disaster, my fucked up little thing. No one else understands, do they? No one else knows what you need like I do."

His words are laced with fondness, and it makes something deep inside of you ignite.

"Dave," you whine.

"I know," he says again, and his fingers curl around your neck and start to squeeze.

You always beg him for this. The sharp pain he gives you is never enough–the belt, the knife, the stab of his cock–you always seek a void in the end. Dave chokes you until your head goes fuzzy, until your vision clouds. The sting of your injuries–both the ones from your failed mission and from Dave’s own hand–fade into the background, replaced by a beautiful nothingness.

“Cum for me,” you hear Dave demand over the roar of blood rushing to your head.

You only ever did bend for him. You’re vaguely aware of the feeling of overwhelming release washing over you, just as your vision starts to go dark. The pressure of Dave’s hand abruptly leaves, and you pitch forward, gasping for air. You don’t even realize that you’re shaking.

Dave pulls out and flips you over and you flop on your back, pliant and moldable for him. You blink up at him dumbly as he fucks his own fist to completion over your body. Your vision is still swimming as you feel the first hot splashes on your chest and neck, intermingling with the blood and making a fucking mess of you.

After he milks the last drops of cum from his cock, Dave lets out a heavy sigh, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

Then he leaves.

You stare blankly at the ceiling, unsure of the passage of time and if Dave has actually left your house or not. You don’t feel the same sense of relief as you normally feel after Dave utterly ruins you like this. You just feel numb. Have you become too accustomed to this treatment? God, what more can you take? What more can you possibly do to make everything quiet? It wasn’t enough, and now he’s gone, and you’re left here alone with your thoughts again and you should probably get up, clean off the blood and cum and try to sleep, but you can’t move, you can’t–

“Hey.” A soft, deep voice cuts through your inner monologue. “Slow down. You’re having a panic attack.”

Are you? You aren’t really aware of your body, but it does seem like maybe you’re breathing unusually fast, that your pulse is pounding too rapidly in your injured temple.

“Jesus,” Dave mutters under his breath. “Come here.”

You let him pull you to your feet and guide you into your bathroom, where steam is already rising from your bathtub. The lump in your throat starts to grow.

“Don’t do this,” you murmur.

“Don’t do what.”

“Don’t–no aftercare, please. It doesn’t do any good.”

Dave snorts humorlessly. He grips your chin again–far gentler than before–and forces you to look in his eyes.

“You’re not in charge of this situation,” Dave says, keeping his voice a monotone. “I am. And I decide what you need. Now get in the bath.”

The hot water stings the cuts and scrapes, and you let out a little whimper in spite of yourself. Dave is by your side, a warm cloth gently dabbing at your chest. It’s the tenderness that hurts more than the injuries. It forces you to face something within you–something about Dave–that makes you yearn for him. You’ve missed him–his deadpan way of speaking, the clinical, cold way that he touches you, and then this. The way his hands are full of care, the way he’s gently bathing you, the way he’ll almost surely insist on patching you up when you get out.

“I’ve missed this.” Dave gives voice to the emotion welling up inside you.

“Don’t–” you beg weakly. You know he doesn't miss how your voice breaks on the word.

“What the hell happened to you out there tonight?” Dave murmurs.

“Intel was bad,” you mumble. “They knew we were coming. Migs barely escaped with his life. They killed Andrews. They made me watch,” you whisper. “You know he was like a brother to me.”

You watch Dave’s throat bob up and down as he swallows. “I know,” he says quietly.

“He was the only one left from our original group,” you say, the tears threatening to rise to the surface. “There’s no one left. If anything happened to me now, no one would even fucking know. There’s no one left to mourn.”

Dave hauls you to his chest, not caring that you’re dripping water all over him, all over the bathroom floor. “I would,” he says quietly. “I would know.” The left goes unsaid, but he may as well have said it, for how loudly it reverberates in your head. I would mourn.

The quiet admission finally breaks you. You sob into Dave’s chest, the emotion you tried desperately to distract from, to numb, to replace with physical pain finally washing over you. Dave doesn’t shush you, he doesn’t talk. He’s a mountain, immovable and stoic against your rage and sorrow. He allows the storm to beat against his slopes until it runs out of steam, and you slump forward in defeat.

Only when the water begins to cool does Dave speak.

“Let me take a look at that nasty thing on your head.”

You let Dave pull you up out of the water, your legs knocking together, awkward and gangly like a newborn foal. He wraps you in one of your towels, and then a spare blanket from the closet, pushing you down onto the bed for the second time that night. You sit on the edge, the tears still drying on your cheeks as Dave kneels at your feet with a first aid kit.

You try to remain impassive as Dave’s hands touch your face. One of them cradles your jaw; the other dabs the broken skin with an alcohol wipe before applying a dot of antibacterial cream to the area. You glance at his eyes only once, the open emotion in them forcing you to look away.

Dave finishes with a bandage, taking care not to capture any of your hair with the adhesive. You think you’re done feeling things for the night, and then his lips are soft and warm against your forehead.

Asshole.

He doesn’t let you get up until he’s cleaned and bandaged the little knife wound, either. It doesn’t need a bandage, not really, but you allow the indulgence because his hands are soft and gentle and soothing and it makes you ache in another way entirely.

Dave stands, but doesn’t move away. This is the part where you tell him to leave. You always tell him to leave, you can’t tolerate his soft intensity or the way he touches you like a precious object after giving you the violence that you crave.

You usually pass out when Dave leaves, a result of the adrenaline finally leaving your body.

You don’t think that will be the case tonight.

Dave clears his throat. You can tell he doesn’t want to go, but he turns and starts to pick up his clothes.

Before you can think about it, your hand darts out, your fingers closing around his wrist.

“Stay,” you whisper.

Dave’s head whips around, his eyebrows upturned as you say the word you swore you never would.

“I’m not playing these games tonight,” Dave murmurs, his tone laced with affection and humor. “You have one more chance to ask the way you know you’re supposed to, or it’s not happening at all.”

A hesitant smile reaches your lips. It’s shaky–as if you aren’t sure how to do it properly–but now that it’s started, you can’t seem to stop the spread of it. “Daddy,” you whisper. “Stay.”

#screaming crying throwing up #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #fic recs 2025

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fortunapre · 2 months ago

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𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐜 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 last updated: 2/6/25

HEY! if there’s a story or author you think deserves recognition, tell me! i love recs!!!

➤ connor bedard fic recs

“evening kisses“ @asunsetgrace16

➤ percy jackson (books) fic recs

texts! “texts with you & percy” @riordanness

“i can see you” @xoxochb

“after midnight“ @inmyheaddd

➤ hamzah fic recs

nsfw! “let me show you” by me!

nsfw! “detestable“ @luvergirl21

nsfw! “roommate Hamzah” ^^^

“calling Hamzah your friend” @tastesousweet

“if a girl walks up to you…” ^^^

nsfw! “back to the basics” @giuli4nna

“matchmaker” @melodyreads

“roomates” ^^^

fic! “complicated” @homesick4la

“marlboro reds” @slushyxcx

“handling the goods” @yxutubers

“only threw this party for you” @melodyreads

#fanfiction #connor bedard x you #percy jackson from the books #percy jackson x you #x reader #rec list #fic recs 2025 #fic recs #recomendation #hamzah #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #hamzah fic

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chaostudee · 9 hours ago

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max verstappen

summary : you are lando norris's younger sister and when you show up to the paddock to support him a certain driver for red bull falls for you. faceclaim : anna astrup warnings : language, suggestive content a/n : obsessed with this smmm <33

y/nusername happiest of birthdays to you baby brother ❤️

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen, charlesleclerc and 1,292,671 others.

landonorris i do not appreciate you publicly humiliating me like this

y/nusername ;)

user72 thank you y/n for giving us new lando pics !!

username12 im peeing at the last photo

f1fan no because wdym lando is 27?!?!

user123 no cause real istg he was like 20 yesterday tf

username89 my shaylah oooh my shaylah

user00 im scared

f1lover shdjdhdueb

user12 if my sibling ever embarrassed me like this i would acc like sob

user12 not lando with his 'putting up the middle finger' obsession 😭

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

y/nusername on my way ✈️

liked by landonorris, kikagomes, lilymunihe and 372,992 others.

landonorris can't waitttt

user72 omggg y/n better come to the gp

username55 oh i just know she will eat her fits up

f1girl omggg her and alex better meet up !!

user35 girl how tf do u look this good on a plane i could neverrr

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

y/nusername monaco ily

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, kikagomes, victoriaverstappen and 482,027 others.

user72 chat....is that....who i think it is

f1fan ik that side profile

user62 girl whattt we need the tea now

victoriaverstappen so so beautiful

f1girl f1 twitter is going crazyyyy

user62 imagine soft launching THE max verstappen

f1lover frrrr im so jelly

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

y/nusername guess i'm a redbull girl now

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, sergioperez and 724,729 others.

f1fan me because i can never decided which team to support

user72 crying because why is this the most relatable thing i've seen all day

user82 okay girl i see u

f1lover omggg pls tell me you're a max fan

user6 ive never wanted to be someone more

f1girl okay her and max are defo dating

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

y/nusername alexa play winter things by ariana grande !

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 371,610 others.

user62 max in the likes.....

f1fan ugh y/n's music taste is on top

username11 so aesthetic omggg

f1girl wait guys i swear max is gone skiing this weekend holy shit maybe they're together

user00 oh girl....u are delulu as fuckkk 💀

landonorris a little bit of credit would be nice

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

y/nusername hehe

》 um what hard launch?!?!

》 DUDE

》 omgggg girl what

》 makes sense

》 max gets it

》 how does lando feel about this

》 isnt y/n like 22???

》 wait cause this is lowkey kinda crazy

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

maxverstappen my sweet girl

liked by y/nusername, landonorris, checoperez and 1,728,927 others.

landonorris cant lie this is weird asf but im happy for you both 💛

user82 awwww

username8199 chat this is acc so crazy

f1girl i loveeee

user00 savannah slow down-

charlesleclerc bro got rizz

oscarpiastri 😭😭

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

y/nusername guess who's backkk 🤭🏁

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 528,928 others.

landonorris not happy with this 🥲

y/nusername redbull is better

user72 yesssss y/n gets it

user92 DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN

user62 redbull queen

f1fan y/n's a real one

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

y/nusername 🌸

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, maxfewtrell and 712,991 others.

user72 omds i love them both sm i cant

f1fan body is tea

username22 y/n is just living that life

f1fan4eva holy shitt is that a charli xcx reference🙈

username111 max's bicepsss ugh yes godd

f1girl omgg where did she get thar bikini im so obsessed

f1lover so so gorge omg girl teach me your ways

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

landonorris some quality time with big sis

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri, yukitsunoda and 1,628,028 others.

user72 best sibling duo

f1fan im sry this summer break has felt like an ageeee i just want the cars back on track :,(

username55 comeback on lando.jpg 👀

user00 omggg plss

y/nusername ngl u lowkey ateee

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

y/nusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, maxverstappen and 527,310 others.

user82 nortrell forever ❤️

username82 y/n is so stunning omg

f1fan where is max??

y/nusername he's with his family

user728 did they break up 👀👀

f1girl omgg pls she doesnt have to post with him 24/7 to make u believe that they didnt break up

user00 fit devoured

f1lover ugh to be max

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

maxverstappen back at it 💪

liked by victoriaverstappen, nicohulkenberg, danielriccardo and 2,726,292 others.

user773 um where tf is y/n

f1fan oh they defo broke up.....she didnt even like it

user11 okay but it is hella weird that both lando and y/n are not in the likes

anon babes i fear it is not that deep

user00 ugh not all the fangirls in the comments

username13 omdss can we pls just seperate personal life from sport plsss

user236 max dominated this week

username666 frrr i know my goat 🐐

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

y/nusername life recently 💞

*replies have been turned off*

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

messages between max and lando

dude did u propose to y/n lando

shit yeah yeah i did..... max

im sry if you're pissed but i asked your dad and he was chill and like i'm in love with her and i want to spend the rest of my life with her max

im not mad max 😭😭 lando

you're not....... max

well i mean a little lando

mad that i wasn't in on the proposal lowkey lol lando

ah it was a kind of private thing max

its chill man just dont hurt her lando

never max

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

maxverstappen i promise i will love you forever

liked by landonorris, y/nusername, charlesleclerc and 3,929,772 others.

landonorris i will kill u if u dare hurt her 😈

user72 damn username88 yesss love me a man who stands on business f1fan im sry the emoji 💀 user72 that damn smirk

y/nusername this is just the start of forever <3

user62 sobbing.

f1girl this is my royal family

username72 omggg y/n verstappen

f1fan oh im counting down the days to this wedding fr

charlesleclerc bravo !!

taglist⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn @sweetestgirlintown111 @mxryxmfooty @hadidsworld @llando4norris @heavy-vettel @love2readd @depressedriches @nichmeddar @seonghwaexile

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sizzlingcloudmentality · 2 months ago

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uhm. yeah. I want that, pretty please?

It’s not that being older makes him smarter or wiser than you, rather, he’s the first to brag about your accomplishments or support your goals. It’s the way that time has taught him gratitude.

It's the way that time has taught him gratitude. That's just beautiful! So well done 💛

[900 words of fluff and cock worship]

daydreaming about…

Older boyfriend Joel who is so is so patient and tender with you. He slips out of the bedroom without turning on a light in the mornings, not wanting to disturb your sleep. But he never forgets to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, murmuring something sweet, before he leaves.

And on the weekends it’s the same. Except he comes back in an hour or two, just to leave a coffee on the nightstand for you. Doting without smothering, or risking your morning attitude.

Some days you don’t wake up until you smell the earthy coffee, steam still swirling from the mug. But most of the time he barely makes it to the doorway before you croak out a quiet, “Wait.”

“Come here,” you lilt in your rich timbered morning voice, stretching your arms toward him. It never gets old to him, no, he thinks it’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. One of the most heavenly sights.

You can only grin lazily at him. Your gaze drags down, over his handsome smile, over the rippling muscles of his chest and arms under his worn tee, and skimming over the bulge in his loose sweats.

You scoot toward the middle of the bed, hold up the cover, inviting him into the warmth you’ve been nestled in. He climbs in and scoops you onto the broad plane of his chest.

“Morning, pretty girl,” he rumbles beneath you, voice deep as the ocean. It’s so serene to be in his strong arms. Nobody has ever grounded you like this, anchored you, physically and emotionally.

It’s not that being older makes him smarter or wiser than you, rather, he’s the first to brag about your accomplishments or support your goals. It’s the way that time has taught him gratitude.

Joel is present with you. So alive. Flesh and blood, warm and firm. He’s not in a rush, not sacrificing his energy chasing benchmarks or brushing you off to prove something.

He’s there with you.

Sometimes he just holds you in a peaceful quiet. You listen to his breathing and his heartbeat. Until the sun gets higher in the sky and the world comes to life.

But most of the time you can’t resist wiggling your hips against him and biting your lip. Fucking with him, just until you feel his dick start to stir.

Joel’s heart flutters at your breathy giggles, but when your laughter is cut off with a gasp, the heat rushes lower. He likes the game you play, always teasing him and acting surprised at how fiercely he wants you. How badly he needs you. It never takes long before he’s rock hard, straining against his sweats, precum leaving a little dark patch against the soft material between you.

Sometimes everything stays slow and syrupy, just grinding and rubbing against each other until Joel can’t take it anymore. Until he has to roll you over so he can sink into your soft, warm cunt. Sometimes you take turns spoiling each other with greedy hands and mouths until you’re both sweating and sticking to each other.

But sometimes you do this thing that sends him right over the edge. You sit up and perch your ass on the meat of his thighs, far enough down that you can pull at his waistband freeing his throbbing cock. The way you grin just playing it makes him dizzy.

You’re so fucking hot without even trying.

You’re always fascinated by his dick, hard or soft.

Always amused with the bounce it makes when you let go of his shaft and the weight makes it slap against his lower belly. You like the mess of it, the precum that beads, and rolls from his slit, the string of it connecting to the trail of hair on his stomach. You’re easily infatuated by the heat of his length in your palm, the silky smooth skin, the veins and the deep flushed shade of the head. The lust on your face is unmistakable.

Joel could cum just seeing the ardor in your eyes and the greedy way you wet your lips. But then, matching his gaze and lowering your body, you lick a hot, wet stripe from base to tip. His entire body shudders, overwhelmed with the heavenly bliss.

When you finally envelop him in the wet furnace of your mouth, he’s on another planet, groaning and praising you, encouraging you with a massive palm wrapped around the back of your head. Completely at your mercy, he’ll do anything you want. You get him so blissed out he’s nearly incoherent.

He rarely lasts long enough to fuck you properly on those mornings, instead but when you finally let him get his hands between your legs he could nearly cum a second time just feeling how wet you are.

Drenched.

So absurdly turned on, he barely gets to sink his thick digits inside of you before you’re gasping and crying out his name. But you love it. Nobody has ever made you burn with such intensity and ache with such desire.

And he’s generous. Joel never stops until you’re tugging at his wrist, pulling his arm away as you tremble and spasm.

And some days when you come back to yourself and find yourself staring into his deep brown eyes you think you’d like to spend your mornings like this for the rest of your life.

🍒 🌸

click here for more of my writing

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #soft!joel miller #fic recs 2025

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drarryspecificrecsdaily · 22 days ago

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2025.03.05

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. and a lie by @garagepaperback [E, 7k]

The honeymoon isn't going well. Veritaserum could hardly make it any worse.

2. embargo by @yiiiiiiiikes25 [E, 5k]

As ever, all Harry Potter had to do to ruin Draco’s entire life was…fucking nothing. Exist. Wear his own clothes.

3. heirlooms by @twnkwlf-writes [E, 44k]

Seven years after everything, Harry is busy ignoring the past until Draco Malfoy suddenly re-enters his orbit. Together, they find out what the war left behind.

4. set you free by @eleadore [E, 6k]

"I understand you're in a vulnerable state, Mister Malfoy. But everything will resolve itself in a few hours, and Mister Potter is hardly going to take advantage of your condition. Please get some sleep."

5. together, or not at all. by shannonymous [E, 10k]

Draco Malfoy prides himself on control. Control over his magic, his body, his mind. But Veritaserum doesn’t care about pride. Even as it rips the truth from his throat, he won't face it; he will drop the veil. Shroud it in white, in nothingness. He's always been a coward.

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #daily list #2025 #2025.03

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drarryspecificrecs · 2 months ago

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2025.01 ~ Top 9 longest fics posted on AO3

1. First Watch of Night by @tackytigerfic [E, 273k]

Harry Potter defeated Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts on May 2nd, 1998. But what if he didn't?

2. Quidditch Notes by @hajinjin13 [T, 227k]

Draco Malfoy never thought the Dark Lord might actually return someday and now that he has, there are only two choices. Instead of playing along like a good little boy, Draco turns spy on his father for Order protection and interrupts Harry's breakfast to tell him so.

3. Indigo by @setissma [E, 129k]

Draco had at least four folders open on his desk, at least one of which contained a number of graphic photographs of a homicide scene. He sighed. “I’m in the middle of this. And the fact that they’re willing to let me verify it is, in fact, an indication that they’re telling the truth.” [...]

4. Call Out My Name by paraphaxis [E, 71k]

Within a different magical community led by a tyrant called Tom Riddle, there were two families desperate to put an end to these dreadful times: the Potters and the Malfoys. The chance was small, but it existed. Their children were what they called "The Chosen Ones", endowed with impressive magic and a slightly questionable character, they were the only ones who could put an end to Tom Riddle, without them, the magical world would be overthrown. [...]

5. A Living Death by chrysaetius [T, 69k]

Returning to Hogwarts was supposed to be a fresh start, a step toward normalcy after the war. But for Draco Malfoy, normal is a distant memory. An inexplicable curse shields him—no spell, hex, or jinx can touch him. His peers murmur of dark deals and magic, branding him an outcast in a place meant to be a sanctuary. Only Harry Potter seems unmoved by the rumors, yet he alone holds the unsettling power to break through Draco’s immunity. And... some secrets are buried deeper than they ever imagined.

6. The Aftermath is Legendary by JoiBoy [M, 49k]

Draco does time in Azkaban. The aftermath is legendary.

7. Forever Mine by Toffeemond [E, 47k]

[...] « I'm pretty sure we decided to put a stop to… whatever this is, » Draco gestured between them. « No, you decided all on your own, » Harry slowly walked up to him, his smile intact but a dangerous glint shining in his bright green eyes. « I never agreed to anything. »

8. I Dreamt of King's Cross Station by SusanMort [T, 44k]

This is a story about healing.

9. i think that possibly, maybe i'm falling for you by @cr-amber [E, 42k]

Harry runs into Draco working at a coffee shop fifteen years after the war, and he’s nothing like Harry remembers.

—

※ Word count: 1k ~ 15k

※ Word count: 15k ~ 40k

Another Wandshop Story by LittleFear [E, 17k]

Aren't We in a Pickle? by @reloumi [E, 20k]

bright as the morning (soft as the rain) by indizzlerizzle [T, 18k]

Draco Malfoy is Not a Girl by @duchessdulce [T, 22k]

Hearts Like Ours by @upon-poppyhills [E, 21k]

Life Is The Messy Bits by slytherflower [T, 32k]

No Children by @fluxherbaria [E, 33k] *typo

One Good Thing by @leyliu [T, 15k]

We've Always Been Drowning by DracoAbraxas [T, 22k]

You're My Boyfriend Now by LaughterLoveAndLarry [E, 19k]

—

Ongoing Fest/Exchange

※ Fics would be listed elsewhere.

DCC Kinkuary 2025

Drarry Ass Fest (1)

Drarry Week 2025 | @drarry-week (1)

Tortured Poets’ Gift Exchange (New Year’s Version)

Wizarding Society's Fests Music Wrap-up 2024 | @wizardingsocietyfests (1)

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #monthly review #2025

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buffaluff · 1 month ago

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okay so i kept going with the theme after drawing knight princess jee…in case you haven’t read it yet, @cappuccinoandglitter has a delightful ren faire AU called his valiant heart and i felt that today’s (slightly late) @bucktommyfluffebruary prompt had to be placed in that universe. huzzah!

day 17: big romantic gestures ⚔️🛡️🐴🍻🎀

(my sister gets the credit for the armor and the horse as both belong to her—she’s a knight with her horse augustus and you can find her on IG at ladyellory 😁)

#911 abc #911 fanart #bucktommy #ren faire au #renaissance faire #horse #jousting #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy fluffebruary #fluffbruary 2025 #tevan #kinley #fic rec #buff art #oh no i’m gonna make a 9 1 1 tag now aren’t i #kinkley supremacy

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velvet4510 · 3 months ago

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Cherik fic recs

Here are my absolute favorite Cherik fanfics that I highly recommend to everyone! Most are set within canon, but there are a few brilliant AUs sprinkled throughout. Many of them also have Dadneto, but not all.

All of these are either finished or are guaranteed to eventually be finished. I won’t put myself or anyone else through the pain of getting invested in an abandoned fic.

Listed in alphabetical order by title. (I will update this as I find more.)

again and again and again and again by @darealsaltysam . Charles pines for Erik and Hank pines for Raven. Set post-First Class / pre-Days of Future Past. (Also features Hank/Raven.)

All Our Stolen Summertimes by @sinspirefly (60k words, ongoing). Multi-chapter. Charles and his X-Men encounter Erik and his Brotherhood over the course of several summers. Set post-First Class. Not entirely Days of Future Past-compliant. (Also features prominent Hank/Raven.)

As Strong as Death by Anath Tsurugi. Old Erik and young Erik talk about Charles. Set during Days of Future Past.

As They Kiss, Consume by sherwoodfox (35k words). Explicit. Multi-chapter. Erik’s POV of his time with Charles during First Class.

be my baby by floatingflowers (ongoing). Multi-chapter. Falling in love and getting together. Set during the First Class Gay Mutant Road Trip.

Beautiful Crime by BLehnsherr & Mstrikout (63k words). Explicit. Multi-chapter no-powers modern AU in which Erik is married to Magda and they are parents to Nina, Charles is married to Moira and they are parents of two, and Charles & Erik are swept up in a passionate affair. (Contains adultery. Also features Erik/Magda and Charles/Moira.)

Beautiful Dreamer by WaxRhapsodic (40k words). Multi-chapter, Apocalypse-divergent: Nina survives and goes with Erik to the mansion. (Also features prominent Dadneto & Magnet Family, mama Raven & son Kurt, brief Erik/Magda, brief Charles/Moira, minor Hank/Raven, background Ororo/Peter, alternate origin story for David.)

The blood of his heart by TomStr1d3r. Passion and feelings. Set during the First Class Gay Mutant Road Trip.

Blood Runs Thicker by @swordsandsadness. Multi-chapter (63k words). Charles experiences a medical emergency, and Erik and the X-Men rally to take care of him. Set post-Apocalypse. Not Dark Phoenix-compliant. (Also features Dadneto and Jean/Scott.)

Bound (52k words) and its direct sequel Hitched (56k words) by FuryRed. Explicit. Multi-chapter still-have-powers AU where Charles and Erik are exes who reunite at Raven and Azazel’s wedding. (Also features Azazel/Raven and brief Charles/Logan.)

But for you I’d leave it all by Pangea. Explicit. Multi-chapter no-powers AU where Charles is a member of nobility about to enter an arranged marriage and Erik is the jeweler hired to create the wedding rings for his childhood friend who he’s still in love with.

Finding Home by weethreequarter. Multi-chapter. Charles fakes his death and runs off to reunite with Erik in Poland, where they start a quiet life together and adopt Nina. Set post-Days of Future Past. Not Apocalypse-compliant. (Also features Dadneto.)

For all the points of the compass, there’s only one direction by Sotano. Erik’s POV of the dark Sentinel future in the Rogue Cut of Days of Future Past. (Old Cherik)

francis forever by cowboy_like_me12. More Charles beach divorce angst. Set post-First Class / pre-Days of Future Past.

Glitter Bombs and Chess Matches by xXQueenofDragonsXx. Charles, Erik, Peter, and Nina live together in the mansion as a family. Not Apocalypse-compliant. (Dadneto & Magnet Family centric.)

Have Some Faith by @roseghoul26 . Multi-chapter. Charles breaks through Erik’s walls. Set during the First Class Gay Mutant Road Trip.

i look around (and it’s just me) by @thepointofme. Erik’s introspection during First Class.

in between being young and being right (you were my versailles at night) by teenagewaste. Days of Future Past-divergent: old Erik has a talk with his younger self and young Charles. (Old Cherik AND Young Cherik.)

Isn’t It Extraordinary? by frau_kali. Explicit. Charles gets Erik to let go of his tight control of his powers in the bedroom. Set during the First Class Gay Mutant Road Trip.

The King of Second Chances by @luninosity. Charles and Erik rescue a lost cat at a motel. Set during the First Class Gay Mutant Road Trip.

Last Days of Spring by Penguina. Multi-chapter no-powers AU in which Charles and Erik fall in love after a one-night stand, but Erik is keeping multiple secrets that will change everything. (Contains adultery. Also features background Erik/Magda.)

A Legacy Unbound by ScaleBlaze (105k words total, ongoing). Currently a 2-part series that begins during Days of Future Past and then diverges from Apocalypse and its aftermath, focusing on the relationships between Erik, Charles, Peter, Wanda, and Lorna. (Dadneto- & Magnet Family-centric. Also features mama Raven & son Kurt, Jean/Scott, and Alex/Lorna.) Many surprise twists in this one.

Looking Forwards (Backwards) by @allourheroes. Set post-Days of Future Past in the new future, where Logan learns of Charles and Erik’s revised history. (Also features Jean as Cherik’s “daughter.”)

Love by @apolesen . More Charles beach divorce angst as Hank and Alex realize the truth about him and Erik. Set post-First Class.

lovers do the looking while strangers look away by roadtovanaheim. Raven’s POV of Cherik during First Class. (Briefly mentioned Erik/Raven.)

Magnetism and Mendings by @mayamidge . Multi-chapter (25k words). Charles gets custody of young Lorna, Peter, and Wanda when Erik is imprisoned at the Pentagon. Set post-First Class. Not Days of Future Past-compliant. (Dadneto & Magnet Family-centric with past Erik/Magda.)

Mending Metals by @sincosma (ongoing). Multi-chapter. Erik’s POV of his slow-burn with Charles in Genosha. Set in the aftermath of a slightly divergent version of Dark Phoenix.

A Million Miles Ahead of Us by CharryWotter. Multi-chapter. Charles, Erik, Hank, Raven, Peter, and Kurt go on a road trip. Set post-Apocalypse. Not Dark Phoenix-compliant. (Dadneto-centric. Also features prominent mama Raven & son Kurt.)

Monster by Garonne. Charles regains contact with Erik, who has conquered Genosha. Set post-Days of Future Past. Not Apocalypse-compliant.

(Nearly) Lost and Finally Found by @swordsandsadness (ongoing). Multi-chapter (31k words). Erik saves Charles from a suicide attempt in Paris and they do their best to move forward together. Set post-Dark Phoenix. (Contains a failed suicide attempt.)

A New Place to Be From by @veevil and @nyang-cheng (ongoing). Multi-chapter no-powers Siren AU in which Erik is a siren in a contaminated lake, which is being investigated by Charles, a biologist. (Also features minor Hank/Raven).

Plaid shirt days (A Cherik Gilmore Girls AU) by @star-lights-up (ongoing). Multi-chapter no-powers Gilmore Girls AU where Charles is basically Lorelai, Jean is basically Rory, and Erik is basically Luke. (Also features Jean/Scott and Hank/Raven.)

The road to redemption by onomatopoetikon. Multi-chapter. Charles’ POV of Days of Future Past.

The road to salvation by onomatopoetikon. Multi-chapter. Erik’s POV of First Class.

Rumination by grim_lupine. Erik’s POV of his feelings for Charles during First Class.

sailor song by @penmarks (ongoing). Multi-chapter (34k words). Explicit. Charles and Erik explore their immediate chemistry. Set during First Class.

Same As It Ever Was (The Road to Recovery Remix) by listerinezero. Erik rescues young Kurt and brings him to the mansion. Set post-Days of Future Past. Not Apocalypse-compliant.

savor every second together by pyroallerdyce (103k words total). Explicit. 5-part series in which Erik intermittently sneaks back into the mansion for trysts with Charles and, in the process, learns the truth about Peter & Wanda. Set post-Days of Future Past. Not Apocalypse-compliant. (Also features prominent Dadneto & Magnet Family, mama Raven & son Kurt, past Erik/Magda, and Cherik being parental figures to young Jean & Ororo.)

Say, It’s Only a Paper Moon by pleistocene88. Charles and Erik steal a moment the night before Cuba. Set during First Class.

Show Me Yours and I’ll Show You Mine by frau_kali. Charles and Erik share their powers with each other in bed. Set during the First Class Gay Mutant Road Trip.

sing me to sleep by pocky_slash. Stolen moments together during the dark future and revised timeline of Days of Future Past. (Old Cherik)

Steal Some Time and Start Again by @nathanbellamy. Multi-chapter, Days of Future Past-divergent: Peter takes some of Hank’s serum during the Pentagon breakout, causing him to lose his mutation, be imprisoned, and end up bonding with Erik, while Charles, Hank, and Logan set out to rescue them. (Dadneto-centric.)

tie up your thoughts and lay them down on me by joshriku. Erik returns to Charles and helps him with his chronic pain. Set post-Days of Future Past. Not Apocalypse-compliant.

to sweetly hold by joshriku. Set at different moments across prequel canon as Cherik steal moments together.

Trust by @dick-helmet-magneto. Apocalypse-divergent: Nina survives but is paralyzed by the arrow and Erik seeks help from Charles. (Dadneto-centric with past Erik/Magda.)

Turtlenecks and Promises by @charlesxavierthetelepath . More Charles beach divorce angst. Set post-First Class / pre-Days of Future Past.

We Met At The Park by starrose17 (139k words). Explicit. Multi-chapter no-powers AU in which Charles is a rent boy, Erik is a banker, and they fall in love, but Charles’ dark past returns to haunt them both. (Link is to LiveJournal, as the fic is no longer on Ao3.) *LONGEST FIC ON THIS LIST.*

A Wedding Planner Walks Into a Bar by 1sttimefeeling. Explicit. Multi-chapter no-powers modern AU in which Raven hires Erik to be the bartender at her and Hank’s wedding, and Erik quickly falls for the wedding planner, Charles, whom he mistakenly assumes is the groom.

What died didn’t stay dead, you’re alive in my head. by @star-lights-up (40k words, ongoing). Multi-chapter First Class / Doctor Strange / Loki / Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. / Deadpool & Wolverine crossover AU in which Charles and Shaw’s consciousnesses merge after the coin scene and the team seek out the TVA for multiversal help to save Charles. (Also features Hank/Raven.)

When You Leave (I’m Lonely) by HarperRose. Erik tries to hide from Charles’ students while sneaking back into the mansion for trysts. Set post-Days of Future Past. Not Apocalypse-compliant.

Wrap You In Dreams Of Me by askaniblue. Multi-chapter. A grieving Erik dreams of Charles. Set post-The Last Stand. (Old Cherik)

you can hear it in the silence (on the way home, with the lights out) by @ch3rry (ongoing). Multi-chapter no-powers The Sound of Music AU where Charles is basically Maria, Erik is basically the Captain, and Hank, Alex, Angel, Sean, Peter, Wanda & Lorna are the 7 children. (Also features minor Hank/Raven, Erik/Emma, and Alex/Armando.)

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hazzashouse · 3 months ago

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The Space Between Us (Harry Styles series)

Hi! Welcome to my new series The Space Between Us! This is a Harry Styles x OC fanfiction, where Harry plays himself—a global superstar—and the story explores his reunion with Sophie Pearson, his childhood best friend (and maybe more…). Expect moments filled with angst, tension, and heartwarming memories as they navigate the challenges of reconnection.

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

Triggers: None - this chapter is light :)

Pairing: Harry Styles x Sophie Pearson

Word Count: 3,112 Words

Enjoy the first chapter, and let me know what you think!

Chapter One: A Familiar Face

“Sophie! Where’s the seating chart?”

Her brother’s voice boomed from the dining room, sending a ripple of urgency through the already chaotic house. Sophie Pearson was halfway up the stairs, one hand clutching a clipboard and the other holding a pen precariously between her teeth.

“It’s on the table, next to the candles!” she yelled back, spinning around to double-check her mental checklist.

The house was a hive of activity. Family members, caterers, and a few overenthusiastic friends buzzed around, each consumed by their own tasks. The faint hum of a vacuum cleaner fought against the soundtrack of wedding prep chaos: doors slamming, hurried footsteps, and someone playing music too loudly in the kitchen.

Sophie reached the landing and poked her head into the guest room, where the bride’s dress hung like a masterpiece in a gallery. Everything seemed fine here. She exhaled a small breath of relief and moved on.

Downstairs, her brother Anthony appeared in the foyer, adjusting his tie.

“You’re too calm for someone getting married in three hours,” Sophie teased, her tone sharp but fond.

“Someone in this family has to be,” Anthony shot back, grinning. “Besides, I have you to keep everything on track.”

“That’s right,” she muttered, flipping through her clipboard.

————————

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

As Sophie rushed from room to room, the house seemed to breathe with memories. Every corner held whispers of the past—of childhood laughter, whispered secrets, and endless summers spent with the boy who used to be her best friend.

Harry Styles.

Her chest tightened at the thought of him. Their lives had once been so intertwined it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Their mothers had been inseparable, which meant Sophie and Harry had been inseparable too. Sleepovers turned into late-night talks, and holidays together became their little tradition.

But that was a lifetime ago. Before The X Factor. Before the world knew his name.

Sophie tried to shove the thought aside, but it lingered like a shadow. She could still remember the last time she had seen him.

It had been an unusually cold night. They stood at the edge of their favorite park, the one where they’d shared so many childhood adventures.

“You don’t have time for me anymore,” she had said, her voice breaking as she hugged herself against the chill.

“That’s not true,” Harry had insisted, his eyes wide with something like guilt.

“Then prove it,” she’d snapped, hating herself for how desperate she sounded. “Because I’m not just some fan waiting for your attention, Harry. I’m supposed to be your friend.”

“I’ll always come back for you,” he’d said, his voice soft but resolute. But even then, they both knew the promise was an impossible one.

————————

“Sophie!”

Her cousin Lizzie’s voice snapped her back to the present. “The florist needs to know where to put the centerpieces!”

Sophie blinked and nodded, forcing a smile. “Tell them to arrange them on the dining table for now. I’ll figure it out.”

The clock was ticking. The bride would be arriving in less than an hour, and Sophie was determined to make sure everything was perfect for her brother’s big day. She adjusted her clipboard, smoothing down her blouse as she made her way back downstairs.

Outside, the January air was crisp and cold. Guests began arriving, filling the house with a mix of excitement and chatter. Sophie was so focused on coordinating the details that she didn’t notice the sleek black car pulling into the driveway.

She was checking on the catering setup when the front door creaked open. Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie caught a glimpse of movement.

“Finally, the photographer,” she muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

She turned to greet them, her lips already forming a polite smile. But the words died on her tongue.

It wasn’t the photographer.

It was Harry.

He stood in the doorway, framed by the soft winter sunlight. He looked older but still impossibly familiar—like a piece of her past brought to life. His suit was impeccably tailored, and his green eyes sparkled with a mix of nervousness and amusement.

“Hi, Sophie,” he said, his voice warm and tinged with something she couldn’t quite place.

Her clipboard slipped from her hands, clattering to the floor.

For a moment, the chaos of the wedding melted away. All she could see was him—the boy she had grown up with, the man who had become a stranger.

Her vision swam.

“Sophie?”

Harry’s voice was the last thing she heard before the world went black.

As Sophie sank into unconsciousness, her mind conjured an old memory—their last conversation before he left for good.

“You’re leaving again?” she had asked, her voice trembling with frustration.

“I have to,” Harry had said, running a hand through his curls. “This is my dream, Soph. You of all people should understand that.”

“I do,” she’d whispered. “But it feels like you’re choosing your dream over me.”

He’d reached for her then, his hand brushing against hers, but she’d stepped back.

“Good luck, Harry,” she had said, forcing a smile through her tears. “I hope it’s everything you want.”

And then she had turned and walked away.

————————

CHAPTER TWO: HERE

like and reblog if you liked it and follow me to not miss my future content - I will very much appreciate it! Lots of love, A.

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theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming · 1 month ago

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Nicole Reads A Lot of Fanfiction (and she's gonna share it with you): Week 8

Weeks [1] [2] [3] [4/5/6] [7]

Hello this weeks fic reading brought to you by the fact that I haven't "worked" since 2/18. Anyway.. if you notice a sudden trend in the Sterek fics I'm not sure what to say. I tripped into the "Firefighter Derek Hale" tag and haven't seen the light of day since oops.

Buddie: 14 Sterek: 15

that timelines chat by disasterbuck, Veronae | @disasterbuck | @veronae-buddie (2025•T•32.6K)

On a seemingly ordinary night in 2022, Buck receives a text from what he assumes is a wrong number and goes along with it for lack of anything better to do. But it quickly becomes evident that nothing about this night is ordinary, as he finds himself texting an Eddie Diaz five years in the past, before he's moved to LA and joined the 118. What happens during the next twenty-four hours will change Buck's and Eddie's lives forever. Eddie: like I said, I just wanted to update my phone Eddie: maybe I did something to it 👀 Buck: of course YOU would try to update your phone and end up texting the future 🤣 Eddie: hey! Buck: technology really doesn’t like you, does it? Buck: 😇

Was I even on your way? by rangerdanger (mxgicxltrxgedy) | @call-me-medusa (2025•M•3K)

A soft knock starts on the door. “Buck?” It’s Eddie. Of course it’s Eddie. “Are you feeling okay?” Buck feels like he’s going to throw up. “No." “Can I come in?” Buck closes his eyes. He tries to take another deep breath, trying to remind himself he’s in Eddie’s bathroom, in Eddie’s house, probably the safest place he’s ever been in L.A, and that he’s not in an office trying to talk about a kid’s death. He scoots closer to the toilet, resting his back on the edge of the tub, “Yeah.” - Or, Buck gets reminded of something that happened he'd rather forget.

come ride on me (i mean camaraderie) by heygirltimeformorning | @heygirltimeformorning (2025•E•4.5K)

“Eddie, this isn’t -- casual for me,” Buck says finally, like he’s cutting the wires to a bomb. “I can’t -- I don’t do casual anymore.” He looks up at Eddie, open and bleeding, totally disarmed. He’s the most beautiful thing Eddie’s ever seen. Buck takes a breath, looks down, shakes his head. “I mean,” he says, “I can’t do casual with you.” “Who,” Eddie asks, very quietly, “said anything about casual?”

Cheeseburger in Paradise by Bookworm0303 | @insertlovelyperson (2025•E•20.2K)

“Swingers,” Buck gasped, eyes wide and mouth agape, “Eddie, they’re swingers.” Immediately, Eddie blanked, fork clattering against his dish as he ran through every possible way he could try to deny it. More or less recovered, he eventually shook his head and laughed, “What? No. No, they’re not.” “Yes,” the other gritted out, frantically gesturing back at the two couples at the bar, “they are.” Turning in his seat, Eddie watched as the pair of husbands quite literally swapped wives, getting rather cozy with their new partner for the evening. And... ok, damn. Sure. Clearing his throat as he turned back around, he was willing to make a partial concession, “Ok. Fine. Maybe those four are, but—” That’s when Buck got to pointing: “And them. And them. And definitely them.” Each assessment more damning than the last. --- or Eddie plans a vacation for the first (and likely last) time in his life.

Second date update by kyote_ugly | @kyoteugly (2025•T•1.9K)

The story takes place between the 1st and 2nd seasons, different first meeting. Buck's friends convince him to go on a blind date to get over Abby, and Eddie, well, Eddie is training to be a firefighter - he's divorced, new in town, and of course his friend from the academy wants to help him navigate the LA dating scene. And you, my dear reader, you're sitting in traffic on your way to work, listening to the radio...

The Blondie Theory by facewithoutheart | @facewithoutheart (2025•T•5.7K)

Grace hates running into people from high school. But she always kind of wondered about Eddie Diaz. So when Eddie moves back to El Paso, Grace finally gets a chance to prove a theory, make a new friend, meet her long distance girlfriend, and end a ship war. AKA 5 times Grace Matthews runs into her former classmate, Eddie Diaz, and 1 time she runs into one of those two nurses, Evan Buckley.

do you believe in magic? by Tizniz | @tizniz (2025•GA•5.6K)

Buck’s magic has been infatuated with Eddie since the moment Buck laid eyes on the man. It didn’t matter that Buck himself had less than pleasant feelings towards Eddie, his magic decided that Eddie was the love of its life and it was going to do anything it could to be near him. This went against Buck’s own feelings because of the whole not liking Eddie for exactly two days and also because Buck has always been told to keep his magic a secret.

reeling with the feeling by dykeries | @buddiesbian (2025•E•3.7K)

“We are not calling 911.” Eddie groans into Buck’s shoulder. “I don’t want to either. But I think we have to.” Buck shakes his head and then regrets it. He’s like, eighty percent sure there’s a bleeding cut on the back of his head and he’s gotten blood on the shower tile. “We’ll figure something else out.” “Like what?” Eddie tries to shift his weight off Buck again and immediately flops back down. “Ugh.” “I don’t know. Dying here. We had a pretty good run.” “They’ll put it on our tombstone,” Eddie says mournfully. “Here lie Buck and Eddie: too old for shower sex.” “Aw, babe,” Buck says, oddly touched. “You’d want a joint tombstone?”

No one can ever know about this. Except for Hen.

Eddie and the bee-tee-dubs by telldebatz | @singitforthegirls (2025•GA•1.6K)

Eddie didn't expect this once he got back from Texas with Chris, but somehow, he's not that surprised either. Buck acquires a cat in Eddie's absence, which is fine, but it shares Eddie's name, and that might become a problem. (It's a short, cute fic about Buddie and a cat. Enjoy.)

Inside Keeps Building by Minalover | @minalover (2024•E•34.4K)

"“My luggage got delayed coming in from Phoenix but it should be in tomorrow.” Eddie is, of course, not fine. He hasn’t been fine since he left for El Paso yesterday. He suspects he wasn’t fine long before that, but he was able to keep it beaten back with a stick. Not so much anymore. “That sucks.” They’ve been different since Eddie made the decision to move to El Paso a few weeks back. He could have sworn Buck was okay. He was okay in the kitchen that day, when he flipped the iPad over and unearthed Eddie’s tender familial burns. He was okay on the couch, the couch Eddie had to leave behind, the couch he mourns for reasons too complicated to think about. He was okay on the virtual call with the real estate agent. He was okay. They were okay. “Yeah, it really does. All of my underwear was in that luggage.” They don’t feel okay." or: Eddie follows Christopher to El Paso or or: the sexting fic I promised myself

i wanna feel you from the inside by shortndiaz (2025•E•4.2K)

Starts with ‘wanna go for the title?’ and ends in some blood and sex

Feeding by pickdotter (2025•E•2.4K)

Everything needs sustenance; matter, weaving into movement. Hunger is a passion for life. Eddie hungers, while Buck’s pulse thumps with it, blood. *** Vampire!Eddie shows up at Buck's front door.

forever is the sweetest con by becausebuckley | @becausebuckley (2025•E•37.9K)

“Buck,” Eddie says, a small smile curving at the edge of his mouth, “wanna get married? For our honeymoon, we’ll scam your parents out of some money and make Ravi’s accountant do our taxes.” “Well,” Buck says drily, “that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.” “I’m sorry,” Eddie says, in his very best – meaning very bad – impression of Buck when he gets his hands on a clipboard. “What was that?” “Yes, Eddie,” Buck says, putting on an air of suffering despite the butterflies making themselves at home in his stomach. Man, whoever Eddie ends up proposing to for realsies is gonna be so lucky. “I’ll marry you.” or: buck is invited to a family reunion and realises that there's a good chunk of money waiting for him. there’s one issue, though: he has to be married to claim it, and right now, he’s painfully single. it’s a good thing he has such a great best friend in eddie, right?

H-E-A-T-A/B/O: A Buddie Anthology by Bucksbelly (drarryweasley) | @bucksbelly [WIP] (2025•E•41.2K)

An anthology of Buddie one-shots based in omegaverse settings. These stories are NOT connected; they each have slightly different lore and can be read in any order!Brought to you by I wanted to write my favorite trope but couldn't decide how to do it so I wrote a bunch of them

I don't want the world, but I'll take this city (2025•E•9.5K)

"Let. Him. Go." Eddie demands, deathly still so he doesn't pounce. "Why? Because he smells like yours?" The second prisoner taunts. "I bet you haven't even told him yet." "Told me what?" Buck snaps, slightly breathless. At least he's not choking. "Come on, Dom, stop fucking around," Mitchell agrees, rolling his eyes at the display. "We're on the clock, here." But Dom hasn't taken his gaze off of Eddie, and vice versa. His smirk grows. "You'll thank me for this one day," he says, and before anyone can move, he sinks his teeth into Buck's neck.

Thank You by JoMouse | @josjournal (2019•T•12.3K)

Stiles is a firefighter with BHFD Ladder 30. He hates the new guy...until he doesn't. For Sterek Week 2019 Scene Stealers - basically Sterek as Buddie from 9-1-1.

Anchoring by rororowyourboat | @rosieposiepuddingnpie (2025•T•3.1K)

Stiles is Derek's anchor, but Derek deserves so much more than one person as an anchor. Stiles decides to help Derek find joy in life again.

Champagne Problems by fairytalesandfolklore | @fairytales-and-folklore (2021•T•1.7K)

Stiles has got champagne problems. No, really. He's had way too many mimosas. A game of tipsy truth or dare at a New Year's Eve pack party ends with Stiles accidentally blurting out that he's in love with Derek…right in front of the sourwolf himself.

"Alright, fine," Erica simpers. "I dare you to tell us who you've got a crush on." "Because we all know there's someone," Lydia insists, giving him a pointed look. "Someone you've clearly been pining after for years now," Danny agrees. "So just come clean, Stilinski. Tell us who it is." Stiles, who is absolutely smashed off his ass at this point in the game, rolls his eyes so hard he sees stars. "Nice try, assholes," he teases with a sing-song lilt and a self-satisfied smile. "But there's no way in hell I'm ever gonna tell you I'm in love with Derek, so you can just—" Somewhere in the distance, a champagne flute shatters, and suddenly, Derek is just there, looming in the distance, eyebrows arched so high they practically straddle his hairline.

nonchalant about your own mortality by honestlydarkprincess | @honestlydarkprincess (2025•T•1.1K)

Derek gets hurt after sacrificing himself for the pack yet again and Stiles is angry about it.

He's Not Mine by Sunnee (2013•E•68.5K)

Derek comes home to find an abandoned werebaby on his front porch and Stiles volunteers to help him out. Surprisingly, that is just the beginning of his problems.

Stuck on Repeat by pyrrhical (anoyo) | @approximatelytrue (2017•M•77.2K)

Twelve years after leaving Beacon Hills, and everything it represented, Stiles is a well-respected analyst at the CIA. Unfortunately, life likes its irony, and Stiles finds his pretty fabulous CIA career turned on its side when an asset-turned-mark turns out to be a little less than human.

can't be trusted to treasure your heart like i do by honestlydarkprincess | @honestlydarkprincess (2025•T•1.3K)

Derek chases after Stiles and they make up.

Safe by Hedwig221b | @hedwig221b (2023•NR•976)

“Where is he?” Stiles rumbled, glancing at each member of the pack in front of him, before settling his incinerating gaze on one person he once considered a brother. “Tell me, Scott, where is my husband?”

The Faded Line by GrimReaperlover11 (2022•T•31K)

Stiles sometimes hated being an omega, always being treated like the low man on the totem pole. His ideology is only proven to be correct one night on his way home from a night out with Scott when an alpha tries to take advantage of him. however before he can be defiled, he finds a savior in another alpha, one that has his omega howling with want. when his hero takes him home and cares for him, Stiles doesn't want him to leave. Maybe he won't.

The Outstation by CabbageOriley (2020•GA•23K)

Stiles is the newest hire at the Beacon Hills Fire Department. What will happen when he gets stationed at the outstation referred to as the Hale Hole? He's going to die, that's what. He's going to die and… fall in love?

this loving could save me by hot_damn_louis | @bisexualagenda (2020•NR•16.9K)

“Someone put shaving cream in my helmet again,” Derek growled, his arms tense. “And who could that be?” Stiles asked, feigning innocence. He elbowed Derek playfully as he half jogged over to the rig, hopping into the passenger seat. aka Stiles and Derek have been working in the same firehouse for a while, and they might be a little more obvious about their feelings than they think.

Emergency Love by Kedreeva | @kedreeva (2012•E•13.5K)

Wherein Derek is a firefighter and Stiles is a paramedic, and they just keep meeting.

stop, drop, and roll by thepsychicclam | @thepsychicclam (2014•M•12.2K)

Stiles knows he's in trouble when he invites the Beacon Hills Fire Department into his third grade classroom and he can't stop staring at a certain scruffy fireman. But after the third graders take a field trip to the fire station and participate in the fire department's holiday canned food drive, Stiles can't ignore his crush any longer.

a glimpse of you and me by Winchesterek | @sterekbros (2023•E•12.1K)

“You write about soulmates?” Derek asked, sounding curious as he leaned in. “I didn't know there was a market for children’s books about that.” “Yeah, it’s starting to pick up traction the last few years. I know there weren't many books like this when I was a kid, but maybe things would’ve been different if there had been.” Stiles shrugged. Then he paused, wetting his lips as he tried to control his breathing. “Do…you believe in soulmates?”

A drag queen and a cop walk into an apartment building... by DropsOfAddiction (2020•E•16.4K)

Stiles tries not to whimper as Derek gets closer. Stiles had forgotten just how intense space invader Derek could be. If Derek was boner inducing when Stiles knew him before, equal parts terrifying and sexy, back at the age of twenty four, well... it’s not a patch on what thirty year old Derek’s got going for him. Derek’s still got a stupid leather jacket and his black hair is slightly longer than Stiles remembers. The stubble is longer too, not quite a beard but still neatly shaped in a way that makes his cheekbones stand out. And the eyes, shit, the eyes. He’s staring at Stiles with this stormy mix of grey, blue and about a thousand other colours thrown in and Stiles couldn’t break eye contact if he wanted to. Derek fucking Hale, ladies and gentlemen.

#Sterek #Buddie #stiles stilinski x derek hale #evan buckey x eddie diaz #2025 Fic Rec List #Sterek Fic Rec #Buddie Fic Rec #did I technically finish the beautiful Marriage of Convenience fic 17 minutes past midnight last night.. yes shhhhhhhhh #i should not have done the math and saw this is 458K words LOL

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sizzlingcloudmentality · 2 months ago

Text

ALI, this is so fucking delicious!!

The tension is tensioningggg. And he's so soft and the shower sex and ... Ugh ... You'll find me in the floor if you need me. 🫠🫠

And thank you so much for participating, Ali!!

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄 | Javier Peña x reader

summary | Javier needed a vacation, badly.

author's note | for writing through the seasons, hosted by @guiltyasdave (happy birthday bby!!) & @sizzlingcloudmentality. such a beautiful challenge and i really enjoyed writing something a little lighter for javi. and a big thank you to @kedsandtubesocks & @hauntedhowlett for helping me plan this out.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, post narcos s3, old partners, holding grudges, enemies to lovers, javi in shorts, drinking, less than subtle flirting, shower sex, unprotected piv and creampies, some feelings at the end <3

word count — 7k

Being forced out of Colombia had been a blessing in disguise, really.

With an asshat like Javier Peña as the attaché and taking that power to clean house, you had been an innocent casualty among the masses. There were about twenty of you, some lower staff, some agents - like you, but it was all the push you needed to switch gears.

The passion you initially started with had waned slowly, desensitized to every drug bust and dead body; young, old. It was draining, debilitating on some days. Taking a job at the inn had rejuvenated you and washed away the heavy weight of the DEA and all the baggage that came with it.

As for Javier, he spent weeks searching for a proper place to use as his getaway, constant whispers and recommendations from friends about a small island off the coast of Hawaii - discreet, quiet, a place where he didn’t have to be known. He wanted to exist away from home; the occasional spotlight—he wanted to disappear.

It was perfect, walking up the lone inn on the tiny island with a deep, relieving breath and his bag slung over his shoulder, approaching the desk with his natural swagged, the gentle sway of his hips in those figure hugging jeans, fit perfectly to his muscled thighs and a peach colored button-up to match.

Not beach attire, but easily clocked. Your face is buried in the laptop you swing around to the front desk, a faint clearing of a throat coming a few inches away and up, catching a glimpse of the watch, then the plush lips pushed out under a thick mustache, yellow-tinted glasses that hid those pensive fucking eyes.

You both realize it at the same moment.

What the fuck are you doing here?

It’s said in unison, laptop snapped shut as you take in his cliche attire.

In the year since you’ve been let go, he hasn't changed a bit.

“I’ve got a room booked for the weekend,” Javier continues despite your pinched expression, the strong wave of bitterness returning as you glare at him, staring up at the clock that read a quarter ‘til five, only fifteen minutes left on your shift before your next break.

Maybe if you waited him out you could send him on his way, knowing very well there wasn’t any other possible booking on the island and he would have to find a flight back home.

Fuck him. God, fuck him.

As good as you had it now, it didn’t lessen the sting of a career you had worked so hard for, crumbling to nothing with a flick of pen and someone's shitty opinion, crossing your name off like it meant nothing, like you hadn’t done enough grunt work for him to even earn a simple thank you.

You existed around him, not with him.

Even now, he’s staring at you like he’s waiting for you to spin on his axis, tap your fingers delicately against the work computer and handing over his room key with a smile. Practiced, forced.

He could find somewhere else, surely.

He doesn’t realize he let the thought slip audibly until you’re replying with an amused tone, “No, you can’t,” It was cocky, but oozing a venom that Javier knew to steer clear of, “we’re the only place on the island.”

Silently you type in his name, knowing that despite your immediate distaste that returns like a natural, learned behavior—you had a job to do.

But, it doesn’t stop your mouse from hovering over the cancel button for a moment too long, watching his expression turn from smug to pitiful.

It was a glaring dichotomy, personalities swapped, watching a once confident man shrink in shame as he scratches his cheek and looks away, your fingers typing quietly at the keyboard before you eventually disappear without a word, fetching the room key.

It was a pricier suite, unsurprising. Room 213. You swing the key ring around your finger and double-check the information, seeing that he had paid ahead of time and handled all the necessary additions over the phone with a different employee.

“This what you do now?” He asks - it was a question of genuine curiosity, but it comes out judgmental, at least, it reads that way. He takes the key from your extended finger and ignores the obvious tension that was weaving around you both like a tangled mess.

“It’s surprising how hard it is to get back onto a job at the embassy when the head attaché fires you without proper reasoning—overstaffing, was it? Budget cuts?” You tilt your head slightly, staring him down with a polite smile as you slide the paper receipt across the counter, “I guess we’ll never know, huh?”

“Hey, that’s—”

“I don’t care, Javier,” You reply honestly, interjecting before he has the chance to spit out an excuse, whatever it may be, “Yes—this is what I do now.”

So much for anonymity, he thinks.

Just like that, his entire vacation had soured.

And for you, it was the only sliver of peace you had here.

Gone. Vanished.

You watch his walk of quiet shame as he glances over his shoulder briefly before boarding the elevator, his jaw tense and tight as you lock eyes, doors closing slowly before you release a breath you didn’t realize you were still holding.

Fuck.

It was time to take your fifteen.

–

You liked Fridays because it meant relaxation—and drinks, beachside and under the soft, soothing tune of whatever was playing through the bar speakers, the crash of waves on the shore and a misty spray that kissed your skin, sipping silently at your drink as your finger circles the wet ring on the surface of the table.

The sun was setting by now, a few hours since you hated spoken or seen Javier Peña.

It was hitting you now, realizing you never quite processed how hard the lay off had been to process, how blindsided you had been, or how little appreciation was shown in the aftermath.

Right—it only mattered if your name meant something, if it was attached.

You were like mice, rats—taught and trained, scattering to find evidence and intel, return and filter it through your superiors and still somehow manage to not get murdered or discovered in the process and all the while, expected to complete your paperwork on time.

You were used to people taking the credit from you, but with Javier, it was different.

He had a way of making you feel special; always calling you by name, never letting you feel inferior when he needed something, making sure to comment on your appearance in a respectful manner, greet you like you’ve been friends for ages, a mere effort to keep up with his title.

But, you had built a strange kinship over long late night stake-outs, shared nonsensical details about your life - like how you despised the taste of liquor but toughed it out for the sweet aftertaste, enjoyed drinks for the aesthetics rather than the feeling.

Javier was a messy eater, too. Not careless, but rather ravaging. He’d tear into his fruit like an animal finding the first spec of food in a week, juices covering his fingers and oblivious to the obscene sounds he’d make as he chewed, sucked, and licked. It was irritating, but inherently him. He didn’t like music much either, opting for silence instead. It drove you insane on particularly long nights.

It didn’t matter that you had shared nights in each other’s apartments, grueling over dead-ends and lackluster information, sharing meals that would end with both of you falling asleep in heaps, never mentioning them as you woke.

Neither of you had ever crossed that line, too vehemently aware of his title.

Both professional and rumored.

So, when he was the one who signed off after you were ordered out of the office, badge and gun returned by end of day, you didn’t know how to react.

And it was only as he resurfaced now, a year later, that you find all of those bottled up feelings and resentments boiling at the surface.

“Osita,” You hear him greet with an estranged fondness, hating the way it rolls off his tongue like it was normal, “you’ve changed.”

You sip on your drink with disregard, hearing the silent squeak as he takes his seat a couple seats away and orders a plain tequila - nothing fancy, just liquor and a glass.

“Actually, make that a double,” He adds, tapping his wallet idly against the surface of the table as he waits, offering a reserved thank you as the two glasses are slid in front of him.

You pointedly turn away, hoping the fleeing sun and shifting color of the sky; a soft oceanic blue into tangerine skies and the flock of seagulls circling overhead. Unfortunately, it isn’t enough to block out Javier, who when he needs or wants something, is going to get it.

And currently, it was your attention.

“You know that was never my decision,” He deflects, “I’m fed a list and if I don’t sign it I look like I’m not willing to do my job, if I could have suggested they take you off—”

“You should have,” You bite, “if you felt so passionately about it, but as all things go in Peña’s world–if it doesn’t hurt you, then who cares, correct?”

You had only ever known Javier as the serious figurehead above you, not the one of tales told by co-workers, how mischievous he used to be, how daring. Los Pepes had really done a number on him apparently.

“I’m trying to apologize, alright?” He offers weakly - and Jesus, when had he downed the first glass of tequila in the time you had started talking to him? He quickly throws back the second glass and pushes them aside, “I came here because I heard it was a good place to disappear, that I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone knowing my name—and you just happened to be here, I’m not trying to invade, but I’m sure we can just…exist around each other for a weekend.”

When it came down to it, you knew there wasn’t much Javier could have done—sure, a word or two would have been nice in your defense, given how closely you two had worked together toward the end of your career in Colombia, but even then it assumedly wouldn’t have done any good.

You received a good pension and are living nicely now, making enough money to live comfortably somewhat off the grid—you could hold a grudge, it was easy. But, you don’t.

“Yeah,” You offer lamely, “apology accepted, can you leave me alone now?”

“I retired,” Javier slips as he shifts in his seat, “thought you should know.”

This motherfucker—he knew how to reel you in; hook, line, sinker.

“You? Retired?” You scoff, “Who roped you into that? Is someone blackmailing you?”

Javier makes a face of incredulous disbelief, “Blackmail—the fuck? No. I got tired of all of it, all the work we’re doing and half of the government is under the cartel’s dominion. From one extreme to another and there was no change in sight, it was pointless.”

He wasn’t wrong; you constantly put your life on the line for a cause, fruitless and impossible to change, it was like chasing your own tail half the time.

As you finish up your drink you order a beer politely, the bartender offering a flirty smile that Javier catches with a keen eye, but he files it away for another time. The subtle buzz of alcohol was already filtering through your head as you sip from the beer slid into your hand and Javier makes a motion with his finger, ordering a third drink.

“I see you haven’t changed,” You comment slyly.

“You either,” He remarks, eyes shifting toward the bartender.

As much as Javier had his indulgences, so had you.

It was unspoken how you both hid the trauma and stress under alcohol and sex, just never with each other, but this - Javier was reading it completely wrong.

“Oh, gross,” You grimace in disgust, “He’s a friend and I’m almost certain I am not his type.”

As the words leave your mouth, your friend approaches Javier with a third drink, mirroring his earlier actions with you but adding a subtle once-over with his eyes, admiring Javier’s toned physique and tanned skin, years of chasing after cartel members keeping him fit.

Though, his posture is slacking, slumped in his seat as he works on the third glass of tequila, still dressed in his earlier attire and it almost transports you back to the nights spent in his car, a glass of liquor tucked between his legs and his phone and binoculars resting on his thighs.

“Please tell me you brought more than just…that,” You inquired, eyes pointedly dragging over his figure in a less subtle manner, “like—actual vacation clothes?”

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” Javier defends, a confident smirk gracing his face as his hands spread over his knees and curls, gulping down the last sip of alcohol, “it’s fine—ladies love it.”

“Sure, if you’d like to stay stuck in the eighties for the rest of your life,” You jest, “I just—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in shorts, actually…I don’t think I’ve ever seen how you dress outside of work.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d love to know,” He teases, watching as you wobbled to your feet and grabbed your wallet and room key, “wait—you’re leaving already?”

“Yes,” You answer blatantly, “I don’t need you pestering me the rest of the night when I could spend it alone, in my room, like I do every night.”

“That eager to run off, huh?” Javier retorts, “God, you must really hate me.”

“Since when do you care what I think about you?” You ask him, genuinely curious. “I haven’t seen you in over a year and you show up here and expect me to fall to my knees and worship you like I did back in Colombia? You’re not my boss anymore and we’re not chasing after drug lords. Go fuck yourself, Javi.”

Truthfully, Javier Peña was only a shell of what he used to be.

He’s softened, far less rigid than he used to carry himself. Working with his father had led him to live a quieter life, enjoy being around his family, and come to the realization that what didn’t want to be stopped, couldn’t be. He’s let things go, moved on, but for some reason—with you, he’s finding it difficult.

He grabs your wrist as you intend to walk past, standing from his seat and turning to you as your body shifts toward his, like being transported back to the work office with the buzz of noise and voices around you, blaming the alcohol in your system for the way your eyes linger on his face, blinking as you take a stumbling step back.

“At least let me walk you back to the inn,” He suggests.

“Worried I can’t handle myself?”

“No,” He answers quickly, fully aware of how easily you could, “I’m just—let me, alright?”

“Fine,” You relent after a long pause, “whatever, but—don’t talk. Your voice is annoying.”

“Oh? Is it?” He responds with a chuckle, quickly realizing that you had no intention to wait for him as you’re already fleeing by the time he turns around to grab his wallet, jogging to catch up with you.

“Keep up, Peña.” You mock him, a subtle grin on your face as you hear his rushing footsteps in the sand, “You’ve really let yourself go, huh?”

Javier scoffs in amusement at your words, but doesn’t answer.

For once, he listens and keeps his mouth shut.

–

You take the scenic route, unusual for you, but with Javier at your side you try to remind yourself to be a decent tour guide—he was here for a vacation after all. There were a few locally owned shops that you suggested for breakfast and souvenirs, home-grown and made with love.

He takes them into consideration, noticing how much lighter you sound as you talk, the alcohol taking your body hostage, aware of how little you needed to consume before you were spilling unnecessary information and giggling yourself into tears. But, in the current moment, it was a quaint relaxation that washed over.

The sun had set now, both of you traveling in the dark as you approached the inn. Javier shared very little about how life has been for him back home, more interested in hearing your stories about crazy guests and cute, older retired couples who needed a week away from the city.

“When I first got here I would spend all of my time in the water, or near it,” You admit, fishing for your keys without much luck, reaching your room on the first level of the inn, “it’s so nice here, Javi—I mean, you think about all the stuff we endured back in Colombia and you wonder how the fuck we survived and suddenly you’re relaxing on the beach like none of it ever mattered.”

“It’s hard to let that shit go,” Javier admits, “still…wakes me up at night, you know?”

You knew well, nodding solemnly as you fumble to find the correct key, swaying on your feet before Javier decides to put you out of your misery and step in, gently prying the keys from your hand as he sifts through to find one similar to his own before he hands it back, shaking your head in amusement as you laugh quietly.

“Still terrible at handling your liquor,” Javier comments, hands hovering around you as you stumble forward, ready to catch you if you fall, luckily you stay on your feet, “wait—do you like, live here? At the inn?”

“For a stretch of time, yeah,” You answer as you step into your room, immediately toeing off your shoes and turning on your heels, hand gripping the doorknob as you face him and rest the knob against your hip, staring him down from a couple inches away, the threshold forcing the distance, “I have a place further in town when we close down for a couple months—you worried about me, Peña?”

He can’t explain why his stomach clenches at the words, an instinct to agree swirling in his gut.

He’s thought about you since your departure, but as he moved back home and forced himself to let go of that part of his life, things had started to fray around the edges of his mind, slowly disappearing.

His non-answer is telling, analyzing your features like you’ve seen him down a hundred times. Usually it was for signs of deception or misleading information, constantly on edge of a possible mole or betrayal. He never fully trusted anyone, but he knows he never sensed that with you.

“I’m a big girl,” You assure him, “I can handle myself.”

“I know,” He replies, his right hand curling around his belt, thumb rubbing against the mix of denim and the leather band, his left hand rubbing over his mustache and chin, “so—I guess I’ll see you ‘round, then? If I don’t, I can’t say I’m upset—I got to see your face again.”

“Cute,” You smile genuinely, head tilting against the doorframe, “All’s forgiven, I guess. I think I’m starting to realize how much of that shit was out of your control.”

“You were a good partner,” He says lowly, a grit to his voice that makes your insides quiver, “If I had a say, you would’ve stuck around.”

His brown eyes were a dangerous weapon, his face softening into that boyish charm he liked to use on you when he needed something inconsequential; a coffee, something he’d forgotten at his desk, or when he needed you to pick up the snacks before a stakeout.

You were definitely going to regret your next words.

“A few friends of mine are having a bonfire tomorrow,” You tell him, “It’s small—but I think you’d enjoy it. Plus, Elio would murder me if I didn’t extend the invitation.”

“Elio?”

“You know,” You tease him, mocking the less than subtle grin and eye drag of your friend back at the bar that makes Javier chuckle, “that Elio. The Peña charm works down here in Hawaii too, I guess. He usually cuts people off after two drinks.”

“It’s about all you can handle,” Javier retorts, your relaxed, drunkish grin growing as you shove weakly at his chest, his hand winding around your wrist with ease, less urgent this time.

Your eyes drag to the touch, lingering for a moment as Javier’s thumb rubs against the inside of your wrist, the rhythmic thrum of your pulse under the surface as your mouth salivates.

You hadn’t felt that touch in months, a gesture that shouldn’t hold so much weight, but brings you back to the constant idiotic decisions you would make with no regard for your safety.

As reckless as you knew Javier to be prior to Escobar’s death, he had changed somewhere between then and when he met you, his touch was the only thing that grounded you in many high stress situations and instances when you felt impulsive - impatient.

But, this touch—it’s different.

“I’m not inviting you in, Javi,” You tell him steadily, eyes still locked on your wrist as his are on your face, “I do still have some respect for you—us, whatever that was before.”

“Sleep well, chiquita,” He says after a beat, turning your wrist in his hand as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand and departs for the elevator, leaving you in a drunken haze.

You almost change your mind, opening your mouth to beg him to stay.

The words never come out.

–

You never told him the exact details of where the bonfire was happening, but as he peeks out of his window the following night - forcing himself to spend the entire day away from you rather than sniffing around for you like a lost, helpless puppy - the fire was enough of a tell.

And you knew you wouldn’t need to tell him, either.

Elio is smirking as he glances over your shoulder, the soft tuft of sand shifting behind you as you peer up, finding a shockingly dressed-down version of Javier sans his tinted sunglasses that were almost a trademark to his look, sitting perfectly on his aquiline nose.

“So, you do have legs,” You tease, catching a glimpse of his uncovered shins as he takes a seat beside you on the towel laid over the sand, greeting your friends politely and shaking hands as they approach him, nodding as one of them shoves a beer into his hand.

“Thank you—” He only processes your words after his first sip, brow furrowing in confusion, “hold up, what the hell does that mean?”

“I’d almost believe you were some type of robot if I hadn’t,” You joke lightly, the teasing falling completely flat as Javier glances down at his legs and bare feet, “sorry–bad…bad joke, it was something people used to say around the office. You never took a break, people thought you were some kind of machine or something.”

“You have not changed,” Javier reminisces, shaking his head with a chuckle to match.

It was your turn to share in the confusion, waving goodbye to a few friends who were wandering off for the night, shooting him a similar expression.

“Fumbling over your words, bad jokes, terrible conversation—”

“Oh, fuck you, Javi,” You shove his shoulder and he chuckles louder, “I can still kick your ass,”

“I don’t doubt it,” He agrees, sharing a brief exchange of eyes that makes your face heat and you’re internally willing the feeling of adoration away.

Not him, not now.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” You ask in an effort to change the subject, “Only about twelve hours left, right?”

“And I’m sure you’ve got your countdown going,” Javier remarks, “It’s been good—needed it more than I realized, it’s so fuckin’ quiet out here.”

As your mouth opens, you catch sight of your friend who had been particularly interested in speaking to Javier—or more specially, Javier Peña. “Oh, right,” You interject, introducing him to your coworker turned friend, “he had a few questions about Escobar, figured you wouldn’t mind answering them.”

Javier didn’t necessarily mind, but he knows you’re doing it to irritate him.

As his attention turns away from you, you turn toward Elio who was relaxing nearby, talking amongst a few of his own friends but still vehemently aware of your presence, “If you two don’t just fuck each other already,” He remarks with a flippant, dismissive smile, “—missed opportunity, seriously.”

“Mind your business,” You retorted with no bite.

He shrugs in a matter-of-fact way before disappearing as Javier turns to you again, distraction gone as you meet him with a smile, “I’m gonna walk the beach for a bit.”

“Is that an invitation?” Javier inquires, casually you reach for his hand and tug him along.

The silence that grows as you walk alongside each other vaguely resembles the comfort that those late nights would bring, the gentle ambience of crashing waves that wash over your feet and the low roar of a boat engine as it passes by.

“They’re still trading,” Javier beings offhandedly, “—right in my fuckin’ Pop’s backyard.”

“Boats?” You surmise, never having sniffed out that type of activity on the island, relatively clean from the cartel’s reach. “There’s too many hands in the mix, you know? You were never going to stop that on your own.”

“Tried,” Javier retorts grimly, “Just ended up chasing my own damn tail in the end.”

Eventually, you find a spot closer to the inn - an incline in the sand that you both move to sit and perch, far enough away from the shore that you don't have to worry about getting wet.

“You made the right choice,” You assure him, “I think some of that resentment was only aimed at you, not necessarily my job. I’m happier here, but you—I just—”

Javier’s eyebrows raise in encouragement for you to finish, unsettlingly quiet.

“I think I was starstruck for a time, seeking your approval,” You admit, “but then I realized that we don’t mesh. We work well, but outside of that…I couldn’t match up with the others.”

It was a kinder way of saying that you didn’t like the locker room talk that happened often among his colleagues, often on the outskirts as you listen to them dig into the nitty gritty details that were never work appropriate, bragging and talking over one another. Javier was usually subdued, but he did occasionally make comments that reminded you exactly why you swore of men like him or them.

“You know what I appreciate about you,” Javier begins after a dragging silence, your eyes locking on him curiously, “You didn’t need the approval to do a good job, you just did it.”

It was easy with you.

Regardless of how badly you did want the recognition.

“A thank you would have been nice.”

Javier cracks a weak smile, swiping a few grains of sand from your knee before he squeezes your leg and offers a genuine, “Thank you.”

It was better than nothing, you suppose.

“Also, serious question,” Javier interjects quickly, “What did you mean by mesh?”

You turn to him with a bigger grin, raising your finger to press against the center of his chest, between his unbuttoned neckline, “You - are not my type. At all.”

Javier guffaws at that, genuine disbelief, “I’m everyone’s type.”

“Good thing I don’t have one.”

“C’mon—not even once?” Javier presses, sensing there was more beneath the surface.

You almost considered letting him inside of your room the first night he arrived, some half-assed excuse about respect that Javier knows you could care less about, more-so setting a boundary for yourself, reminding you that this wasn’t something you should allow yourself to have.

Javier was enough of a gentleman to respect that and throughout the entirety of your partnership, had never attempted to make things weird, despite how he may feel.

You were beautiful and he could tell you that to your face, a striking personality and witty humor to match—and he’s never prided himself on respecting the rule about workplace relationships, having dabbled in enough bad behavior with interns and receptionists that filtered through.

You scared him—not in a bad way. But, Javier’s never been quite so intimidated.

“Let me change your mind,” Javier says jokingly.

There’s a brief flicker as he says it, a blip of miscommunication before you realize his tone and you pray Javier moves on—of course, he doesn’t.

“Let me,” He tries again, his voice softer as you find your bodies gravitating toward each other, his hand nudging your chin up like he’s done it before, a practiced motion before your lips are pressing together gently, a small noise behind Javier’s closed lips as you return the gesture tentatively, “I’ll give you a reason to change it, chiquita.”

“Javi,” You plead, not asking for more or less, but rather begging for an excuse; a reason to deny him or a thousand ways this could go badly for the both of you, “we shouldn’t—”

His hand slides down your cheek to your neck, guiding your chin up to allow room for his mouth at your neck, placing wet and open-mouthed kisses against your skin as your fingers wrap around his wrist, a sigh pushing out of your throat as you relax under his touch.

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to—”

“Don’t,” You interject quickly, sounding breathless, “don’t say that—just…stop talking.”

Javier chuckles, nosing his way up the side of your face before his eyes peek open, locking with your own as his right hand drifts down your neck to your waist and squeezes, pulling you in with a cocky grin, “Tell me to stop touching you, then.”

“You haven’t changed,” You retorted fondly, the tiniest trace of venom in your tone.

The lack of acknowledgement to his direct command makes his grin grow stronger.

The exchange of lips gains an edge of intensity as your hands reach for him almost on instinct, his right leg slotting between yours where they were spread, a hand wrapping around your thigh as he moves over you, back pressing against the sand while your own hand moves along the back of his neck and through his hair at the nape.

You sigh into his mouth, lips parting as his tongue traces teasingly and slides along your own, silently pushing at the loose fabric of your shirt as it moves up your abdomen, the gentle breezing hitting your skin and you make a small noise, your own fingers curling around the collar of his shirt, fingers fanning out over the tanned, freckled skin of his shoulder.

“Forget the bed,” Javier huffs against your lips, “let’s do it right here.”

You giggle at his insistence and shake your head, nose rubbing against his with the motion as you part, hand against his chest to force some distance as he sits back with a flushed expression, similar to how he’d look after a foot chase but his eyes darkened with pleasure.

“You can’t be serious?” You inquire, a boyish shrug of his shoulders as his teeth peek through his smile, hearing the faint chatter of friends a distance away, both of you perfectly hidden from view. Still, you weren’t that reckless.

“Still have that whole respect thing for us going on?” Javier teases, eyes flicking briefly toward the darkened inn, most of the patrons already tucked in for the night.

You roll your eyes with an obvious fondness as you shove him away, moving to your feet as you brush the sand away, casually holding out your hand as he mirrors your actions, “Not tonight.”

You were almost positive you would regret it later, but for now, you acted on the impulsivity.

–

Javier was as eager as you expect, on you the moment your door clicks shut, holding you close as you stumble backward into the bathroom and flick on the light, equally trading touches as he strips you naked without a word, down to your underwear before you can push him away for long enough to turn on the water.

He strips as you adjust the temperature, “Be honest, was it because I was your boss?”

You give him a look of irritation that is quickly quelled by his touch, wet hand fumbling to grip his shoulder as he strips you down to nothing, stepping quietly out of your panties as he drags them down your thigh, tilting your head down as he stays kneeled for a moment.

“Not even close,” You remark, feeling the emphasis of his intention with every press of his lips; one at your shin, knee, two on each thigh before he presses one gentle kiss at your mound, his bottom lip catching against your skin as he slowly moves to stand again.

Javier strips himself the rest of the way as you step inside of the hot shower, closing your eyes as you wet your hair under the gentle spray, his lips attaching to your throat as he climbs inside and shuts the curtain, hands pressed against the curves of your body, cradling you.

You shiver despite the warmth of the water, your skin tingling everywhere Javier touches. His hands roam your body with a reverence that makes your breath catch.

"Then why?" he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and husky.

You turn in his arms, pressing your body flush against his. Water cascades over both of you as you look up into his dark eyes, clouded with desire.

"Because I knew if we did, it would only make things worse,” You admit, “Sex always complicates things, I like how he worked together without it.”

“Well,” He chuckles, both hands spreading out over your back and down to your ass, gasping at the way he squeezes so greedily, teeth digging into your skin gently, “we’re not partners anymore.”

“No,” You breathe out in a shaky attempt at grounding yourself, his hardened cock nudging at your stomach, “we’re not.”

Javier’s hand slides lower, wrapping around the back of your knee as he guides you back against the cold tile wall in the tight space, gasping at the cool to touch surface and the hand that hikes your leg up, Javier’s foot raising to rest along the edge of the tub.

The hand not occupying your knee slides teasingly between your folds, releasing a shaky sigh as you tilt your head back, the water soaking Javier as it hits his back, dripping down his hair and along his nose, carefully examining the subtle changes in your expression as his fingers graze your clit before he slips his middle finger inside of you, hooking the digit in a way that has you squeezing your hands as they reach for his shoulder.

“Tell me you want this,” He growls, an inflection in his voice you’ve heard before but have never felt aimed at you. It makes your head spin, suddenly dizzy.

Instinctively still, you know what to say.

“I do. I want this. Want you, Javi.”

He captures your lips in a searing kiss, all the pent-up desire from months of working together finally unleashed. You reach for his cock, taking a moment to admire him. It shouldn’t strike you how endowed he is, thick and resting just at his belly button, a couple inches more than you’ve ever encountered before and cut, a protruding vein running along the side of his cock from his shaft to just underneath the head of his cock, running your thumb along the ridge and over the weeping slit, suddenly dying for a taste as your mouth watered.

Javier was too impatient, though.

There’s a exchange of unspoken communication, a simple and subtle head nod as Javier fists his cock, rubbing the head between your folds before he pushes inside of you, a palm flat against his chest as you hiss at the faint sting, a stretch you weren't accustomed to and the nails that dig into his skin shouldn’t turn him on like they do, but he leans into it, shallow thrusts inside of your cunt until he’s fully sheathed and your fingernails are biting into his skin, tiny rivulets of blood washed away by the water overhead.

Javier’s movements are slow and deliberate, using the leverage of your unsteady position as you stretch onto your toes of the foot still pressed against the floor of the shower, the other leg held tight at his hip as he fucked into, careless of the water splashing to the floor where the curtain was set askew by his knee pressing into the fabric.

"God, you feel so good," he groans against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "So tight, so perfect. Knew you’d be perfect.”

“H—how - fuck - how often have you thought about this?” You ask, licking away the droplet of water from your lips as Javier smiles, the kind that only carried mischief, as he noses at your neck.

“Every damn day,” Javier admits, lips dragging along your ear as he fucks you with a newfound furiosity, “—mierda, she’s squeezin’ me so tight—all the time. At the office, those late nights in the car. Thought about—fuck, jus’ bending you over the trunk and fucking you there.”

His hips snap into you with force, driving you back against the tile wall. A gasp rips from your throat, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you on earth, scrambling as you slipped but Javier is already there, steadying as he adjust his position to lock your legs at hips, suspended in his hold as his cock brushed deep inside of you, eyes rolling back.

“All you needed was some attention,” Javier surmises, “someone to tell you how good of a job you were doing, right?”

It would have been nice during your tenure, but now, it feels taunting.

“You’re good,” Javier tells you, “so fuckin’ good—”

“Oh, god,” You moan, hands tangling into his wet hair as his lips find your neck again, the faintest scratch of stubble against your skin, teeth nipping at your skin as he drives his hips into you relentlessly, “Jav—Javi, please—”

“That’s it, baby,” He groans, a soft release of breath, “let me hear you.”

The deep, coiling heat in your belly twists as he presses you tight against the wall, releasing your leg haphazardly to drag his thumb over your clit, the franticness of his movement matching his desperate need for release as he moves his finger in quick, hurried circles over your clit.

Your soft cries are muffled by his cheek as you press your mouth against him, drawn so close that it was near suffocating, “S’right there, Javi—I’m close,”

His groan is deep, hips stuttering with your words, “Where?”

Your eyes connect for a stretch of time - another unspoken acknowledgement as you tug at his hair, walls squeezing tight around his cock and nod, his jaw clenching as his orgasm approaches and he brings you with him.

It’s a sensation that makes your body go taut, his hips slowing as he pushes his seed deep inside of you, moaning brokenly into your shoulder as he eventually pulls out and lowers you back on steady ground.

"Fuck," Javier mutters, breathing heavily as he pushes away from you and notices your sated expression, a subtle smile pulling at your features. There's a softness in his face you've never seen before, a vulnerability.

You continue the shower in a comfortable silence as you both settle, like a well-oiled machine with how easily you both move around each other and with, watching as Javier quietly pushes the damp washcloth between your legs and cleans up the mess he’s made.

As you dress, he’s more subdued. Solemn. Brooding.

This was the Javier you remembered so well.

He’s waiting for the words, fingers working slowly at the buttons of his shirt before you fingers wrap around his wrist, dressed in a thin satin slip you had pulled from your drawers, sticking to your wet skin in all the places Javier’s touched, the remnants of his touch still stuck on your mind.

“Stay,” You insist—watching as he succumbed so easily to your touch, shirt half-buttoned and hanging from his frame, “if you want.”

Nobody ever asks him to stay, always on the other end, begging for a moment longer.

For me, your eyes plead.

For the night, he knows.

But, the words strike deep.

“You’re gonna make it impossible to leave,” Javier comments, smiling at the giggle you let out.

“Good,” You tease him, dragging out the syllable, “more of an excuse to come back.”

Not for his own selfish reasoning.

For you, Javier tells himself.

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