Avatar

meandering captain swan musings.

@meanderingcaptainswanmusings / meanderingcaptainswanmusings.tumblr.com

A collection of all things Captain Swan, (and other random stuff, let's be real here.)
Avatar

Grounded

(Frankie Morales/OFC/Javier Pena)

For my partner in crime, @meanderingcaptainswanmusings - a very belated birthday fic featuring Javier, Frankie, and the lucky OFC who gets stuck with them in an abandoned cartel safehouse for the night. Whatever will the three of them do to pass the time?

(hint: they're going to do her. this is porn wrapped in some semblance of plot. all 11,000 words of it)

Rating: E

grounded

“We’re leaving. Now.”

Agent Peña practically spat the words, hands planted firmly on his hips and standing almost toe-to-toe with his opponent in the argument that had been going on for the better part of an hour now to an audience of one. As if on cue, immediately following the words there was a clap of thunder from outside that was so loud it made her teeth rattle, and the machine-gun retort of the rain started up again.

“No we are fucking not!”

Captain Morales almost had to yell to be heard over the downpour, his arms crossed over his chest and his easy smile replaced with a heavy scowl. “I don’t know about you, Peña, but I sure as shit don’t have a goddamn death wish. Trying to take off now would be suicide.”

This is the best belated birthday gift ever! Alex, you are the brightest of gems! Nothing like a pervy threesome to pass the time in the jungles of Colombia, amirite?

Avatar

Neither Confirm Nor Deny (Dave York x Reader)

Dave York has taken over my life. I dived headfirst into Pedro Pascal fandom and this asshole caught me (among others, looking at you Commandante Veracruz). 7k of self-indulgence later, here's Dave x Reader as CIA agents and partners - AU, Dave went into the CIA after the military and never became a contract killer. Oh, and Carol and the kids don't exist in this.

Rated M for smut and vague mentions of bad people doing bad things

You're a CIA agent on assignment in Europe caught up not in enemy crossfire, but in the love/hate relationship you have with your asshole of a partner, Dave York.

You hate how much you secretly love how good he is not just at his job, but between the sheets as well. He drives you up the wall most of the time (and fucks you up against them even better), but when your own agency betrays you at the end of an op, he's the only one who's still got your back.

You can never confirm what he really is to you, but you can't deny it either.

neither confirm nor deny

You practically fling the door to the safe house open, making the rusty hinges squeal loudly in protest as if to remind you about the need for stealth and discretion. Normally you’re the very model of both during a mission, but right now you don’t give a shit. Let the damn place get compromised, it doesn’t matter anymore.

Nothing fucking matters.

You’re met on the threshold by the barrel of Dave’s gun, aimed for a kill shot and immediately withdrawn when he sees it’s you. Protocol when entering the safe house was to knock first with two taps to announce your entry and that everything was fine.

Everything isn’t fucking fine.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, because you never break protocol—except, of course, when you very much do—and he almost just shot you in the face for it. “What the actual fuck…wait. What happened? What’s wrong?”

DAMN YOU, DAVE!

Also. Everyone should read this because what’s not to love about CIA co-worker enemies to lovers? and boring frumpy-dumpy Carol doesn’t exist, which allows Dave to be cool.

You are using an unsupported browser and things might not work as intended. Please make sure you're using the latest version of Chrome, Firefox, Safari, or Edge.