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El Destino Ch. 72
Pairing: EZ x Camila (OC)
Warning: Mentioned blood/injury, internal struggle
Word count: 1.7K
A/N: Wow look at me actually getting out an update 😌
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Leather Binder [C.B x F!Reader]
Description: You've always struggled to get birthday gifts for Carmen and this year was no exception. Until this year's gift practically calls your name from the storefront.
Warning(s): language, fluff all-round tbh, implications of smut at the end, anything I missed lmk!
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kanthony + hands
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Then why ever would you-- Why does anyone marry, brother? For love, of course.
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Netflix And Thrill.
Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader
Words 363
Warnings Nothing really, one curse word is all!
Another Anon request here, and I really liked this concept for a fic. Plus, I actually can imagine Travis like this! Plus plus...it's an excuse to bring College Trav back! "could you perhaps do a fluffy/domestic short fic about watching a horror movie with trav and him getting scared? usually the girls get scared but i figured a role reversal could be interesting?"
Without looking down, your fingers scooped up a handful of the sweet and salty popcorn before you shovelled it into your open mouth. Your eyes were wide with engrossment, the speakers around you pumping out atmospheric string sounds.
You felt Travis shift his body weight on the sofa and the blanket that was draped lightly across your knees began to slide further away from you.
"No...no no no no!" He groaned quietly.
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Flight 826 [J.S x F!Reader]
Description: The rest of the Daggers noticed Jake behaving strangely all day. Eventually, when the work day is over, they decide to trail him and find out what's gotten under his skin. However none of them are prepared for the surprise they witness.
Warning(s): this is straight up tooth-rotting fluff, secret-family trope, wife!reader, let me know if I missed anything!
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Hi I just discovered your blog and I’m so happy to see someone writing fic for the FBI show!
Can I request Scola + Stealing kisses at the break of dawn?
Companion piece to Little Changes - Stuart notices when you start to make little changes.
You aren’t in bed when Stuart wakes up, your side is vacant, the sheets cold. He sighs because this is the third night in a row he’s woken up alone and he’s concerned it’s going to become a habit.
He finds you in the living room, curled up under the couch blanket, a cup of tea clasped to your chest as the TV plays in the background.
“You wanna talk about it?” He asks you as he sits down on the couch alongside of you.
“What’s the point?” You ask him, your gaze fixed on the TV as your palm rubs over the nape of your neck. “It doesn’t change anything.”
You’ve been like this since the appointment with the fertility doctor, since you found out you’re the reason that the two of you can’t have kids. You’d been trying for over a year before you decided to see a specialist. You thought she’d tell you it was just stress, that you needed to cut down on your hours, relax a little more instead the news was worse.
You were in menopause, early onset.
Apparently there’s a history of it in your family. You’d had no idea because you don’t speak to your mother and your father hates discussing ‘women’s things’.
You’ve become withdrawn since then, burying yourself into your work, staying out late. A couple of times he’d found you at the bar alone, drinking whiskey and studying your phone. He knows you’ve been looking up ways to reverse it, researching, he also knows you’ve come up dry. There’s nothing you can do and that’s the part that’s got you twisted up in knots, you’re used to fighting your problems and this is something you can’t.
“Sasha…” He says softly, his hands cradling your face between his hands. “This is not your fault.”
He can tell you don’t believe it, he can see it in your eyes. He wishes there was something he could do to take away the pain but the agony you’re feeling, he feels it too. The difference is he’s pragmatic, he knows there’s other options, he’s open to them but right now you’re not. The anguish, it’s too raw, too recent.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You say quietly as you climb into his lap and begin to undress. “I just want to forget.”
You fuck him hard, the light from the sunrise cascading over his bare skin as you kiss him like it’s the last time, because for you it is the last time. This is your gift to him, your final goodbye because tomorrow you’re leaving him.
You’re going to set him free so he can have the family that he wants, the one that you can’t give him.
Stuart? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
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sunday in heaven // jake "hangman" seresin
warm afternoons spent under blankets with hot drinks and paperbacks
jake’s favourite afternoons were spent with his fiancée and his dog, with hot drinks and a good book. nice and calm, different from his every day. but tell anybody that and he’d have to kill you.
pairing: jake seresin x fiancee reader
author's note: i bet this man is the biggest jack reacher fan on the goddamn planet. he will lie to your face about his book collection and then go home and stay up until 5am because 'babe, reacher's about to beat up like eight dudes and then fling one of them out a helicopter.'
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Copy That (Jack Reacher x ex!wife!reader)
Summary: Much against his preference, he gave you a call and asked for your help. When a hit was hired to take you out, he deeply regrets getting you involved.
Notes: GIF is not mine, this is not a beta’d read, protective Reacher, soft Reacher, reader is black, technically this is a drabble but there will be more drabble with the same characters
—
“Who’s able to hack into a system with this much encryption?” Rocoe asks, linking her arms over her head as she leaned back into her chair.
“Let me see,” Reacher turns the monitor to face him. There’s a black screen with a singular white box that asks for a password.
Obviously it’s more than a password. They probably beefed up their cybersecurity when he noticed someone getting too close to their operation, Reacher thought to himself.
“Finlay, do you have any friends in cybersecurity security that we can trust?” Roscoe asks.
“Negative,” Reacher knew exactly the person for the job. He hadn’t spoken to you in years, and he didn’t want the first time he contacted you to be when he needed something.
But he didn’t have any other choice.
You wanted out of field work two years after your operations team disbanded. In that way, you were opposite of Neagley, your best friend.
You liked being in the comfort of your own office, free to do anything you’d like when waiting for the decryption to crack.
Life with you was domesticated. Life with you was peaceful. A level of peace he wasn’t sure he would feel again, even if he went back to his favorite home town growing up.
“Reacher?” Roscoe asks, touching her forearm to bring him out of his thoughts. “Where’d you go?” “Nowhere, I’m right here. I know someone,” Reacher finally says, pulling out his burner phone.
“Really? You have friends?” Finlay jabs, earning a glare from Reacher. He dialed your number and put the phone on speaker.
You were in the middle of doing a headstand lotus on your yoga mat when you heard your phone vibrate.
It was from an unsaved number. There was two people that would call from unsaved number: Neagley or Reacher.
You answered the phone and moved across your office to close all the blinds. “Y/L/N,” you answer and you were met with silence.
“If this is some ploy to scare me, you really suck at it.” Reacher stared at the phone, his heart pattering wildly in his chest.
You just had that effect on him.
You were about to hang up the phone when you heard a low baritone say your name.
You looked down at the number before bringing the phone back up to your ear. “Reacher? Is everything okay?”
You peeked through the blinds of your office and saw no one suspicious but you can never be too careful.
“I, uh.” Reacher starts, earning confused stares from Finlay and Roscoe. They hadn’t seen him speechless before.
He takes the phone off speaker and goes outside for some privacy. “Y/N, I need your help cracking something. You’re more than welcome to say no-“ “Send it over,” you interrupt.
“I can’t. It’s likely they’ll track the IP address to you and pay you a visit.” “Let them try.” A proud smile makes its way on his face. That’s my girl.
“It’s safer with us. I’ll send you the coordinate incognito.” “Jesus, Reacher. What have you gotten yourself into?”
“It’s something I have to finish,” “How long should I pack for?” His silence told you all you needed to know.
“I’ll be on the next flight out,”
**
You stepped off the metro with your carry on suitcase by your side and a backpack on.
You downed the rest of your coffee and tossed it in the waste bin before advancing towards the escalator. You scanned the area for Reacher with no avail but Reached saw you.
He didn’t want to call attention to you by calling your name so he watched as you waited for the escalator.
“Wow, she’s.. ” Finlay trails off when Reacher’s gaze left you to stare at him. “Really pretty,” Roscoe finishes. “She’s clearly your girlfriend,” Finlay adds.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” “You’re rather protective of her. You care about her.”“That doesn’t make her my girlfriend,”
“Uh guys, where’d she go?” Roscoe starts. The group looks at the empty space where you were previously standing.
“Fuck,” Reacher rushes down the stairs, Finlay and Roscoe not far behind. I should have never took my eyes off of her, Reacher thought to himself. If she dies, I swear to God.
Meanwhile, you stood over the man who had pushed you a few feet into the metro tunnel.
He had pressed a knife to your throat while his teammate searched your belongings. They expected you to be a quick kill.
You had to say you were a bit insulted that they only sent two men after you. They must not see you as a physical threat. That was their mistake.
He laid at your feet, his eyes widen as he looks up at you. He peers over to his teammate who laid dead on the tracks, his neck split wide open.
You slowly approached him and he attempted to crawl away from you. The blood from his chest wound stains the pavement under near him.
You wasted no time as you pressed your boot down on his trachea. He gripped your ankle, looking up at you with pleading eyes.
Thrusting your foot down, you crushed his trachea and watched as his chest slowly falls to a stop.
You slung your book bag over your shoulder and rolled your carry on back to the metro docking station.
Reacher had his back toward you, he was talking to two people you didn’t recognize.
A younger woman looked over at you, her mouth fell open at the sight of you. You’re sure you had blood splattered across your neck and face.
She mumbles something to Reacher and spun around so fast, you’re surprised he didn’t crack his neck.
In the blink of an eye, he was in front of you. He doesn’t say anything at first. You admired the stubble that was forming on his face.
You were always a sweetheart for facial hair. He held your face, turning your head from side to side in search of wounds. His hand gently trailed down your abdomen.
He continued his silent survey until you said, “Reach, I’m fine. The blood isn’t mine.”
His gaze fell behind you before returning to your face. He raised his brow and you nodded at his silent question. They were dead.
“I should have kept my eyes on you. This is my fault. I’m sorry.” “Hey, you taught me well. I handled myself. Besides, it was only two guys.”
“What did they use?” “Knives,” you said with a smirk. “They didn’t stand a chance,” he says, making your smirk widen. “No, they didn’t.”
“Sorry to interrupt but uh,” Finlay hands you a hanker chief, motioning to your face. “We should go. You’re getting stares.”
“Y/N Y/L/N, pleasure.” You reached down to grab your luggage but Reacher beats you to it.
You didn’t bother arguing with him, you were occupied with getting all of the blood off of your skin while it was still wet.
“So.. are you Reacher’s girlfriend?” Finlay asks as he opened the trunk and Reacher slide your luggage inside.
Roscoe looked at you expectantly, which tells you that she has a crush on him.
You don’t blame her. He’s Jack Reacher after all.
“No, I’m his ex-wife.” You answer, setting your book bag next to your luggage before closing the trunk. Roscoe’s mouth fell once again, along with Finlay’s.
They stared at you as if they were waiting for you to say just kidding. You slide into the back seat and Reacher joined you.
“Close your mouth, Finlay. You’ll catch flies.” He says before closing the door.
“Care to tell me what happened the last time you were at the metro?” You asked when you all piled into the car.
“What do you mean?” Roscoe asks as Finlay pulls off the curb and descends into exit to go onto the freeway.
“The way you were looking for me was frantic. It makes sense why Reach was worried, but not you two. Something else happened at the metro station. Someone was taken out like they tried to take me out. Who was it?” You explain.
Finlay and Roscoe looked shared a look but didn’t say anything.
“There was a woman. Her name was Molly-“ “Molly? As in Molly Gordon?” “You know her?”
“Joe brought her as his plus one to my sister’s baby shower. God, that’s.. how’s Joe holding up?” You asked, your mouth felt dry at the new information.
Reacher looks at you, his features hard as stone. Your heart sank in your chest the longer you stared at him.
You felt compelled to reach for his hand in comfort but you had to remind yourself that he wasn’t big on public affection.
Nor was he big on being vulnerable in front of people so you kept your hands in your lap.
“How long?” You asked after a pause. “It’s been a few days now,” Finlay confirms. “They got too close,” you said with a sigh.
“How many people have died?” “Five so far,” Roscoe answers. “And that’s just the ones we found,” Finlay adds.
“So they’re dropping people like flies and it’s still a state police matter?”
Bringing in the FBI and the CIA will only push these people into the hiding. We need to lure them out and kill them.” Reacher explains and you nodded in agreement.
“Copy that,”
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My Girl - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader
It’s late when Jake turns up outside your house, far too late for him to be visiting but he can tell you’re up from the light in the hallway. He imagines you running through your usual routine, checking the locks before you head to bed, Cujo, the Belgian Malinois at your heels walking his nightly patrol with his partner. He got back in just over an hour ago and usually he would have spent the night in his quarters, turning up early the next morning with coffee and bagels before your shift but then he’d heard the scuttlebutt.
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Romantic Shit: Ryan x Reader (Yellowstone)
Every morning that Ryan wakes up with you is a gift. He’s thought that ever since you decided to take this cowboy to bed. This morning though, this morning is bitter sweet because he’s leaving in a couple of days for Texas and the two of you still haven’t discussed what that means for the relationship.
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Talk Radio: Marty Deeks x Reader
Tagging: @kmc1989
It’s early when Deeks let’s himself into the house or late depending on how you look at it. The sun is just starting to rise in the distance, the orange glow casting shadows across the floorboards before he closes the front door quietly behind him.
If he strains his ears he can hear the low sounds of talk radio emitting from the bedroom. You say that his constant dialogue has conditioned you, that the only way you can sleep when he’s not there is with the sound of a radio host constantly in your ear.
You’re completely out of it when he slips into the bedroom, tangled up in the sheets, wearing one of his shirts, face pressed into his pillow. Deek thinks it’s freaking adorable. He can’t believe he gets to come home to you every day, that he gets to love you.
He undresses quietly, peeling off each layer and leaving them in a heap on the floor because he’s too tired to do anything more than climb into bed with you. He’s been running on full steam over the past couple of days, barely been home for anything more than a quick shower before he’s back out chasing down leads.
He turns off the small battery powered radio on the nightstand, the one that used to belong to your father before he climbs in underneath the sheets. You mumble in your sleep, draping yourself over him like a weighted blanket. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your hair as he inhales the scent of your coconut shampoo.
Already he can feel himself starting to settle, his eyelids fluttering closed as his body starts to relax. His lips brush over your hairline as he whispers into the dark.
“Sweet dreams baby.”
Love Deeks? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
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Fern: Bode Leone x Reader
Tagging: @jeysbae @cloveroctobers @dizzybee03 @a-porcelain-gir1 @missy203 @floydsglasses @alixw22x @shelbygeek @muligatorrr @kmc1989 @yousigned-upforthis @brenobikenobi @@hayleyhaysstuff2 @mini-bee-bee @timmybradford @zippeylay @@kikimagic2 @rhilee91 @switchbladeclub @@itzkiarabxtches @@madvic08 @girlinwounderland @choppedgalaxynerd @@chickenshit03 @swinginoperatordreamerpatro-blog @drunkangels @freecreationpost
It’s an adjustment, being paroled. One that Bode struggles with in the beginning because he’s not used to existing in a world with less constraints, without walls or barriers. He spends hours walking around town, taking in the sights, the sounds, the smells.
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Apart!Series - Part One: A Few More Minutes - Josh Folsom x Reader
For one night everything was O.K in Josh’s world. He slept peacefully for the first time in what seemed like an age. It was rare that his nights were so peaceful, his brain usually whirled with snippets of crime scenes and ugly reminders from his childhood. They were memories that would never fade, they forced their way into his dreams, leaving him panicked and breathless in the aftermath.
He woke up in the early hours of the morning, the sunlight streaming through the gap in the curtains of his apartment. You were only in town for one night, you’d had a little downtime from the case that was stealing you away from him. Your arm was wrapped around his waist, your knees tucked up under his. Your palm resting over the space where his heart resided, so that you could feel it beating underneath your fingertips.
The feel of your warm breath on the back of his neck was a beautiful, reassuring thing to wake up to. His fingers clasped the hand on his chest lightly before he brought it to his lips. He kissed your wrist softly before you propped your head up with your free hand and nuzzled his bare throat affectionately.
"Good morning." You whispered, placing an affectionate kiss upon his rough unshaven cheek.
"Hi." Josh murmured, rolling onto his opposite side so he could face you.
It was hard for him to consider that this would be the last time he would see you for a while. He had forgotten what it was like to wake up beside you, to feel what it was like to be loved by you. He missed your lazy days in bed together, intertwined in one another. He missed the press of your skin against his in the darkness.
He had dreams sometimes, or rather nightmares that you were gone, and he couldn't find you no matter how hard he looked. Those were the nights he woke up in a cold sweat, his heart racing and his chest straining.
Lately Josh had been having these nightmares all too often. He would awake and reach out for her just to find your side of the bed vacant and cool. It was those nights that he would remember everything that had happened between the two of you, how you’d fallen for each other, how your relationship shaped and developed until he couldn’t imagine his life without you.
Josh reached out, his palm cupping your face gently. His thumb traced over the delicate shape of your pert lips as you stared into his eyes. He hadn't got a chance to appreciate you last night, not like this. His rough hands cradled your cheeks as his lips brushed the lids of your closed eyes. You meant the world to him.
You would have to leave soon head back to San Francisco where you were currently on loan to the SFPD, helping them dismantle a trafficking ring. It had only been a couple of weeks, but he missed you fiercely. You made your own path, just as Josh made his. It was the way that your relationship had grown over the past couple of years, you were both independent and he had known that there were times that it would be like this.
"You’re going to get frown lines." You informed him with that familiar teasing lilt.
You drew him closer, your legs entangling as you hugged him close. Your fingertips trailed over the freckles on his back, doodling small patterns across his skin.
"I have to go soon." You told him.
Josh closed his own eyes as he clasped you to him, inhaling the scent of the perfume that lingered on your skin. Apricots and amber, there had never been an aroma so sweet.
"I know." he whispered, his palm coming to rest upon the nape of your neck, his thumb caressing the indentation behind your ear. "But I just want a few more minutes with you like this."
His lips brushed over your forehead as he allowed himself a moment to just be, to not overthink the circumstances but to simply enjoy the moment. He knew it wouldn’t be long before you were home for good, back in his life, in his bed but for now he could stay like this, even if it was only for few more minutes.
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The Last Time: Jack Reacher x Reader (NSFW)
It’s past midnight and the stars are twinkling up in the sky as you and Reacher lie on a sleeping bag in the woodland near your house staring up on them. The trees rustle in the light breeze, the sounds of the forest a peaceful rendition.
Reacher’s fingers threaded through yours. The flames from the campfire illuminating his features, highlighting the freckles on his face. He’s more weather worn than you last time you saw him, his cheeks are grizzled, his skin a little more tan. He usually stops by every couple of months, shares your bed, walks your dog before he takes off again. He’s a nomad at heart, he always has been.