#fargo drabble

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

When you say you love Gator during sex and he cums immediately.

He’s working up his frenzied pace, normally slicked back hair in strands of disarray. He can’t quite meet your mouth, breaths jagged pants that smell like faded vape and chew. It’s disgusting, but it tastes like Gator… And you fucking love it. No one is speaking loudly, voices lying in fragments across pleaded whispers.

That is, until, you can no longer contain yourself. Nails digging into that ink wrapped around his bicep, every mole and freckle available to eye fuck, tracing your gaze right back up to meet his blown pupils - delicious amber shards scattered into an inky, enriching abyss. One of your hands slides off his back, cupping around his neck, cradling tightly when you say it, right as he’s pushing into a deep thrust.

“I love you, Gator,” you state, an emotional whine following your finality to the statement, breathless at how he’s fucking you. “I’m so in love with you.”

You wish you could capture his face on film within this very moment. His eyes go wide, his beautiful, kiss swollen mouth drops open, and his hips stutter, causing him to collapse his full weight onto you as he gives a long, belly deep, honey hot moan. He’s coming immediately, following your declaration, burying his face into your neck to stifle sniffling aftershocks. You hold him through it, your chest bursting with pride, cunt soaked with need, with his fucking seed. He always pulls out, but this time?

You don’t find it within yourself to care, and neither does he, apparently. You kiss his sweaty crown, the side of his face, simultaneously locking your arms around his heaving back. You aren’t expecting anything back, you just feel grateful that he knows now. It’s quiet, however, for a few moments, until you think he’s fallen asleep against your breasts. But Gator surprises you, lifting himself from his cocoon in your flesh.

His irises are still a mere ring, his thumbpad tracing your lips to part them, making him lean in to kiss you deeply, breathlessly. You can’t find anything to say upon spit slick lips parting, but you’ve already had your moment. It’s time for Gator to have his. With one nose nudge, he looks you square in the eyes, giving into saying something he’s never been able to say to another human being within his entire lifetime.

“I’ve never loved another person. But I fuckin’ know that I love you.”

[buckysgrace]

fic request for gator : what about reader coming home wasted from a friend’s night out and gator takes care of them (changes their clothes, brushes their teeth, etc). im in my gator fluff feels sue me

Gator fluff is my favorite ok I luv him so thank you for this

"We played a card game," You continued on, blinking as the sharp bathroom lights hit your eyes, "I had to pretend to be a cat." You explained to him, watching as his brown eyes found yours.

"What did the card say?" He asked gruffly as he gently slid the headband over your ears. It was green, with a little frog face on it. You loved it.

"I don't know," You told him honestly, drifting back and forth on your feet as he gently began to scrub your makeup off, "I'm sleepy." You responded as you yawned widely.

"I know," He agreed as he pressed the wipe over your right eye, "But you don't want to sleep in your makeup." He hummed as he continued to wipe it off of your face.

"Maybe." You hummed as you rocked back and forth on your feet, enjoying how nice to felt to have your eyes shut.

"You won't be happy in the morning," He chuckled softly, "And you'll stain our pillowcases." He added, making you snap your eyes open playfully.

"You and the pillowcases," You mumbled as he moved the wipe across your lips, "Do you love them?" You tased as he snorted, gripping your chin and moving your face side to side to inspect his work.

"They smell like you." He said softly as he wiped your nose off again. Your heart fluttered at his words; at the delicate way he touched you.

"Do you love me?" You asked playfully, biting down on your bottom lip as he snorted. He cocked an eyebrow as he squirted a few globs of your face cream onto his hands.

"I think you had a few too many shots, huh?" He teased before he began to rub the cream into your skin, making you wrinkled your nose at the cold feeling.

"Just like-," You paused as you held your hand out, carefully counting the sharpie marks on your skin, "Seven. I had seven." You told him, giggling as he whistled lowly.

"No wonder you couldn't walk," He hummed as he turned, setting your toothbrush up for you, "Open." He commanded a second later before he attacked your teeth, making you laugh again as you thought about how silly this was.

He held onto you as you leaned forward to spit into the sink, rolling your tongue across your teeth to ensure it was all clean. You pulled your lips apart then, proudly showing how minty and clean they looked.

"Pretty," He hummed, patting your cheek before he moved his hands to your shirt, "Now let's get you out of this." He said, making you wiggle your eyebrows.

"And into what?" You asked coyly, drifting your finger to his chest before he swatted you away playfully.

"Pajamas," He said with a laugh, stripping you playfully. You felt a warmth rushing through you as he fell to his knees, gently pulling down your pants and underwear, "Careful." He told you seriously, letting you rest your fingers on his shoulders, so you'd stay balanced.

"Thank you," You hummed as you wiped at your eyes, feeling even more tired in your fresh clothes and clean face, "You're so sweet to me." You teased as you ran your fingers through his smooth hair, liking when it was loose and relaxed.

"I gotta be," He said softly as he gripped your chin, leaning forward to peck your lips gently, "C'mon. Let's get you in bed." He responded as he held onto your hand, leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor. You could get them in the morning.

"We have to be up by eight," You told him, eyes already shutting as he tucked the blankets over your chest, "I have a doctor's appointment." You hummed as your cheek molded into the pillow.

"On a Saturday?" He questioned as you hummed in agreement, your mind already drifting into a blissful sleep. However, you didn't miss the feeling of him crawling into bed next to you or the feeling of his lips on your cheek. Or the soft words that he whispered, thinking that you were far too gone to hear.

[thefutureiswhat]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fargo (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danish Graves/Lorraine Lyon Characters: Danish Graves, Lorraine Lyon Additional Tags: First Meetings, Drabble 

Summary:

Lorraine comes on strong.

[httpknjoon]

what do the lonely do at christmas | myg

plot | that time when popstar!yn found herself on bassist!yoongi's bed on a cold December morning.

w.c | 2.8K

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | fluff, slight angst, enemies to lovers

note | one out of two/three holiday-themed drabble for this series! it's late, I know. but I can't let them sit in my drafts again haha so here it is. enjoy!

main masterlist | series masterlist | want to request?

DAY 66 of Love Is... On Tour

They make songs. Together.

After a show at Wells Fargo Center, Yoongi stayed locked in his hotel room to work on the music for your EP. He has read the lyrics you sent to him and listened to some melody ideas you recorded in your voice notes. In the last two days you two have been collaborating, you are full of visions and excited to tell him all of them. He finds it more surprising that you two haven't had any fights since then.

Is it New Years yet? I'm getting bored, so can we skip ahead? I just wanna forget That I'm at home with nobody to hold

So far, you already recorded two out of the six songs you planned to release in the EP. Usually, Yoongi takes his time in making and editing songs. But considering that this is a holiday EP and you have less than a week before the management's deadline, he works on it at every chance he gets. It's not that hard when you already have a clear vision of what and how you want the extended play to be.

Working is a great distraction compared to scrolling on his phone, which did no good for him. Mainly because he recently saw a post from a mutual friend of his and his ex. That's when he learned that Sara threw a baby shower in what was supposedly their house. He felt something cracked in him when he saw how far along her pregnancy was.

Tempted, Yoongi scrolled through the carousel of photos, admiring the decorations and colors of the house Sara probably picked herself, things that Yoongi had never seen personally. A single photo made Yoongi pause.

It shows Sara and her then-ex-boyfriend holding her growing bump, also showcasing a ring on her finger— not the emerald-cut diamond one he proposed to her. A new one, signaling that she is engaged for a second time this year. That photo was enough for Yoongi to turn it off and focus on his music.

Ding-dong.

Yoongi's head snapped, irritated when the unexpected doorbell noise filled his room. Frowning, he gets up from his chair to check who the person might be.

It's you.

Looking like a curious puppy, you stood before Yoongi's door with two cups of warm drinks you asked Cal to buy on the way back to the hotel. Yoongi looked at you through the small peephole, taking notice of your large, thick white cable knit sweater that falls just a few inches above your knees and the mystery cups you're holding. He opened the door when you began rolling your eyes and tapping your foot.

"What took you so long?!" you instantly asked the moment you saw him, handing him the other cup.

He snickered, ignoring your attitude. He takes the cup before pushing the door wider to let you in. Yoongi followed behind you when you walked inside. He sits back on his chair, in front of his small set-up, while you sit at the edge of his bed. Usually, you will take the couch. But the bed is nearer his working setup.

This is how you two have worked since you started. You only get up when you want to see his screen or when recording something.

"What are you doing here?" he asked since you just finished your show earlier. He figured you might prefer to rest and just work early tomorrow.

"I have an EP to work on, duh!" you replied, taking a sip from your hot chocolate as you tapped on your phone. "Anyway, lemme show you something..."

Probably a new idea. Yoongi thought. He knew it from the moment he saw you opened your phone's notes app.

"Here." You handed him your phone, letting him read something you wrote earlier today.

Maybe he met you somewhere in the desert While he was soul searching, he found someone better Guess you make him happy like I couldn't do Cindy Lou Who

Yoongi reads down the words, "It's a sad song?"

"Yep," you nodded. "Have you heard the song, What Do The Lonely Do At Christmas?"

Yoongi was quick to shake his head. He is not really fond of Christmas songs and doesn't listen to them if not needed. But he could tell by the title that it's probably a sad song too.

You pulled up your legs on his bed, making yourself comfortable, "It's a great song from the 70s. It has a lot of covers too. It's a sad Christmas song and I am so into it that I thought of writing one too."

Yoongi nods, listening, as he scans the rest of your lyrics, "Hmm..."

"What?" you quickly responded to his humming.

With how his eyes squint and his lips form a thin line, you know that he has something to say about your work. You learned after your first night of working together, making you realize that he has the same habit when you rehearse for a show.

"It's great, but I feel like we should just change some irrelevant lines? Like, maybe he met you somewhere in the desert." he read one of the lines. "What does desert get to do with Christmas?"

When he was met with a long silence, Yoongi looked up to you. But he find you just looking at him, chewing on your bottom lip. You looked away before letting out a heavy sigh.

"I found out my ex was cheating on me when paparazzi caught pictures of him and that actress kissing in Coachella." you explained.

"Oh..."

An apologetic look was instantly written all over his face, which is something you haven't expected. You thought he would keep the blank expression he always has. But his eyes and slightly gaped mouth said otherwise. You hate pity or anything like that, especially when it comes from someone who once read you too well. So, you grinned, even though it was forced so much that it almost made your cheeks hurt.

"Want to see the pictures? It's literally everywhere." you joked to change the mood. His eyes widened like he thought you were serious. So you chuckled, "I'm kidding! I won't show you that myself. You can just search it up if you want to."

"I'm not interested. No one really enjoys seeing a picture of their ex," he mumbled, returning your phone to you.

Your eyebrows crooked together when you heard that. He sounded too serious like he was the one in your shoes. You watch him sulk back to his seat, turning his back to work on one of your songs.

"You're acting like you were the one who got cheated on here. You're literally engaged to someone." you quipped.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not."

He whispered mindlessly. Yoongi didn't really think about it and let it slip out of his tongue. He doesn't really like bringing up his personal dramas in his workplace. He never would have realized what he said if you didn't ask him,

"What do you mean by that?"

Yoongi turned around, meeting your eyes, "So, how do you like that song to turn out?"

You're not dumb. Of course, you noticed him dodging your curiosities. He has never shared anything about himself since you two worked together. It's not like I care, you thought. But you know that there is a small itch at the back of your head, trying to get him to talk more. And maybe you know a trick to satisfy that itch.

"Let's order some wine first."

"With your hair so long, lips so bed— wait, that's wrong!"

A bottle of red wine is carelessly placed on the perfectly white duvet of Yoongi's bed. Surprisingly, it is still safe from any stain. The nearly finished cup of now-cold chocolate drink you brought is on the nightstand. You were giggling in front of the microphone and pop filter after making another mistake.

"The words are scrambled." you continued giggling before drinking from the glass of wine you were holding.

It has been almost two hours since you got in his room and Yoongi knows that the effect of your wine is getting into you. Earlier, before you could finish your first glass, you two already agreed on the instrumentals of the song you called cindy lou who. You let Yoongi make some changes in your lyrics, but it's nothing major.

"Something that feels delicate and maybe some piano." You described your idea before humming the tune you were thinking of.

By the second glass of wine, you are recording a rough draft of the song. So that you know if your ideas work well. Yoongi suggested to layer your vocals in some parts while you thought of adding a subtle harmony. Surprisingly, you two worked smoothly.

"Should we add some harp? Theo would have liked that."

You were almost done with your third glass of wine when Yoongi heard you mention your ex's name for the first time.

"Maybe we should stop drinking..." he said.

Even though he's in his fourth glass as well, Yoongi is doing better than you. You looked at him while he clicked something on his setup. You wondered if he could feel the cozy, warm feeling you've been feeling from the wine. Because that plain expression cannot really tell you anything, which makes you feel a little frustrated with how you're the only one who seemed to be a little giggly.

"Fine." you rolled your eyes, letting him take your glass from you.

He got up to get something in his room's mini fridge before going back to you, "Water?"

"It's cold," you replied before you could even touch the bottle.

"Okay, diva."

Your eyebrows raised with that, "No! I mean I cannot drink cold water when I'm singing or recording. It's not good for my throat... I'm fine, anyway. Thanks."

"I thought it would help you sober up," he explained, leaning to his chair.

"I'm sober!" you exclaimed defensively. Just a little fuzzy. But you won't admit that to him.

His lips formed into a smug smile, like he was saying, yeah sure. You puffed before fixing your headphones and crossing your arms over your chest. You looked annoyed. Yoongi knows because your nostrils are flared while there's a small pout on your lips. He bites off his inner cheek to stop himself from smiling.

"Should we record again?" he asked.

Still a little annoyed, you didn't say anything and just nodded your head. The instrumental began playing in your headphones seconds later.

‘Tis the season to be jolly But how can I be when I have nobody

The same song plays on your phone while you tap your fingertips in tune with the sleighbells playing in its instrumental. After finishing recording the song, you stay to see how it will turn out. Yoongi didn't seem to mind even though it was already past midnight.

"Do you want to hear the song I mentioned?" you asked him while he worked on the song.

Busy, he answered with a short sure. So, you played the song in a non-distracting volume, reached for the glass of wine you abandoned, and sat on his bed. You were quiet, sometimes humming to the song, but mostly staring at the view outside.

A silent night I know it's gonna be Joy to the world But it's gonna be sad for me

As the snow falls outside, you think of how this is so not how you expected your December is gonna be this year. With Noah being your original bassist, you thought you two would get to enjoy the snow in various cities you're touring in. And maybe even spend Christmas together during your break. But instead, you are now in your new bassist's, with whom you have dumb fights most of the time, hotel room, making holiday songs.

How surprising is that? You thought to yourself before taking one gulf of your wine.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Yoongi slightly groaned as he stretched his limbs from his chair. You paused the song and collected the wine bottle and your glass like you were ready to go.

"Are you kicking me out yet?" you asked.

He turned around, just to you about to get up from the bed, "What?"

"Maybe my presence distracts you." you joked, which sounds nicer than maybe you don't want me here in your room anymore because you don't like having me here.

He chuckled, a little tired, "No, it's okay. I know you're waiting for the finished version."

"Good. Because I really like your room. You have a great view of the city. The snow looks perfect here." you rambled.

Yoongi looked outside, seeing the wonderful view you were talking about. He wordlessly agrees before getting back to his screen. Watching him, you mumbled.

"If you're tired, we can just finish that tomorrow."

Just like you, the guy also performed hours ago. You two don't along at most times, but you are not that petty to make him overwork.

"No, I'm fine," he shakes his head. "I'll finish this in an hour, just wait there."

"Okay," you put down the bottle on the nightstand.

Yoongi heard the music play again while he edited the song. Eager to finish it tonight, he continued working for what seemed like a few minutes for him. He made sure to add your suggestions and put some elements he thinks would be perfect. After listening to his finished product through his headphones one more time, Yoongi put on a satisfied smile.

"And it's do—"

Yoongi's smile fell when he found you asleep on his bed with the empty wine glass in your hand. It was already 1:24 AM, and he looked at the time. Seeing how peaceful you are in your sleep, he would hate waking you up. Instead, Yoongi got up cleaned up his nightstand, and carefully took your glass. He tried not to chuckle loudly when he heard your small snores. After gently putting the duvet on you, Yoongi took one of the pillows and threw it on the couch that he would take over tonight. He knows it would be awkward to take up the big, empty space next to you.

Dimming down the lights, Yoongi tried to find a comfortable position on the couch. And when he did, he finally closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.

If it weren't for the buzzing noise next to you, you would have seen where your celebrity crush ended up taking you for a date in your dreams. Groaning, you reached for your phone beside you. Seeing Cal calling, you begrudgingly answered the call.

"Hey, Cal." your voice sounded weak as you just woke up.

"Where the hell are you, YN?! I've been ringing your room. You have a virtual interview at 9."

Your eyebrows furrowed while slowly sitting up, "What do you mean? I'm in my room— Oh, no. Fuck."

The first thing you see when you sit up is Yoongi's compact studio setup, which you don't remember being in your room. You looked around and it just confirmed that you are not in your hotel room. Yoongi is nowhere to be found, you don't hear any noise from the bathroom either.

"Y/N?" Cal spoke again, worried by your sudden pause.

"I-I'm in Yoongi's room." you stuttered, trying to remember your last memory. You were relieved to find yourself still in the same clothes you went with last night.

You heard a gasp from the other line, "Oh my god, YN! Did you hooked—"

"No, no, no! Still in my clothes. Just fell asleep making songs." you babbled, cutting her suspicions off. "Where the fuck is that sock?!"

Is it a talent to lose a fucking sock while asleep? Because if it is, you just added a new title under your name. You were in a hurry, shuffling the bed for that one sock with heart patterns. Cal can only imagine what you look like right now.

"Here!" you exclaimed, immediately putting it on. You rushed to the door after. "I'm going there right— Yoongi!"

Yoongi was right before you. He shared the same shock as you except he was calmer with his eyebrows raised and eyes widened.

"I have to go for an interview. Cal's gonna rip my head off. I'll check the song later. Thank you for letting me stay!"

You were so in a hurry that you were literally spewing words and didn't realize that you leaned to give a quick kiss on his cheek. It registered as you were moving back, making you two stop for a moment, looking at each other in surprise. He gulped, feeling his throat running dry. while you feel every blood run to your cheeks now, feeling warm.

You blinked, "I-I'm gonna go."

Yoongi watched you run to the elevator before looking at the two cups of coffee he was holding.

note | i still have a christmas drabble! haha! hope u liked this one though <33

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[cycat-carisi]

Gasoline

Pairing: Gator Tillman x f!reader

Summary: You and Gator were once secretly in love as teenagers but his choices forced you to go your separate ways. Though now nearly unrecognizable, a moment comes where you begin to see that the Gator you once loved may still be trapped inside. You fall back into a secret, passionate love affair...but what consequences lie ahead?

Tags/warnings: Spoilers for Fargo Season 5, mature themes, references to sex, ANGST

Words: 1772

A/N: This little drabble fic was inspired by Djo's cover of Haim's "Gasoline". It's been a hot minute since a song has given me the inspo to write, so I hope you will enjoy this one. I'd also like to say that I do not condone Gator's actions in the series. I do think he has many complexities, though and that is interesting to explore as a fic writer. You can read more on my thoughts about that here.

Also, I'd like to shout out @mrprettywhenhecries and @muldermuse. They have created two of the best Gator AU series out there, including writing badass MCs that match Gator perfectly. Make sure to give "Don't Waste Your Time On Me" and "Two Sinners" a read ♥

Fic below the cut or on AO3

At the time, life could not have been more perfect. Gator Tillman, captain of the football team and son of the sheriff, had taken a liking to you. Tall, dark hair, shining eyes, dazzling smile. What initially began as stolen glances soon morphed into something more. You had fallen, and fallen hard, for the Stark County High superstar.

So, when one day Gator pulled you under the bleachers and told you just how smitten he was, it wasn’t difficult to allow your lips to crash against his.

What had surprised you most about Gator was that beneath the athletic, tough-guy exterior lay a sensitive boy, capable of a lot more kindness than the world around him allowed him to show.

You had kept your little love affair a secret, stealing kisses–-and sometimes more–-in whatever confined space or private area that your school had to offer.

The relationship remained hidden mostly out of fear of your conservative parents, but that never meant that Gator treated you poorly. He would save you the best parts of his lunch and carry your bags when he thought no one was looking. But the sweetest part was how, after several months, Gator began to open up to you. He regaled you with his dreams for the future–-a future he saw with you in it.

The best moments you had together were when you snuck out to lie in a field somewhere, talking and watching the stars. It had seemed that those stars had aligned just for you and Gator; a perfect little world all your own.

Yet, all good things must come to an end, so they say, and that is exactly what had happened when Jenny Meyers moved to town.

Her father was recruited by Sheriff Tillman and often brought his family to the Tillman ranch for dinner. Being a good Christian girl and captain of the cheer squad, Jenny was Roy’s top pick for his son. And before long, Jenny was the one walking hand in hand with Gator–-your Gator–-down the halls of Stark County High.

Perhaps you may have been able to accept it if you had known Gator’s circumstances at home. Hell, you may have even been able to accept it if Gator had formally broken things off with you. But the fact of the matter was that he had remained silent. One day you had been making out behind the school, and the next Jenny was wearing Gator’s varsity jacket.

It hurt. It hurt bad knowing that something as simple as a pretty, popular, and well-connected girl could erase everything you and Gator had shared.

So, you did the only thing you could; you kept your head down, letting it all be. And as time passed, you watched any traces of the Gator you knew evaporate as he strived to please Jenny, her family, and most of all, his father.

The days of colourful sundresses and midnight strolls were gone. You graduated high school and tried college but ultimately ended up back in Stark County, working at the little gas station diner. Gator went on to complete his police training and fulfilled his new dream of working for his father.

Except, your collective choices meant that you still had to share the town with him. Each encounter resulted in minimal words spoken, yet you couldn’t help but notice how distorted Gator had become. He was pompous and cocky, walking around the county like he owned it, even though everyone secretly knew that his father filled that role instead.

There were also times when Gator would visit the diner, exuding arrogance with each breath. Every word spoken was a demand, and it took all your willpower not to spit in his coffee.

Jenny had long since moved on, but the egotistic Gator had remained in place. Sometimes you thought about what once was. Usually, your mind strayed after taking his order and moving to fill it in the kitchen while Gator sat at a barstool, picking his teeth and flaunting his sheriff’s vest. You wondered whether the Gator you used to laugh with and kiss was still trapped inside somewhere.

Then one day you got your answer.

It was All Saints’ Day, and there was a cold bite to the November air despite the afternoon sun peeking out from behind the clouds. Gator had slinked into the diner sporting a ripening shiner. The sight of his purpling skin caused your stomach to drop in spite of yourself.

Plopping himself at his usual stool, Gator avoided eye contact with everyone around him, his chin dropped low.

You did not owe him any sympathy, not after the heartache he had caused you all those years ago. Yet, you still found yourself in front of him, compassion overtaking you.

Surprised that anyone, let alone you, showed him concern caused Gator to raise his gaze to yours. Those shining eyes that once captivated you were heavy with sadness and something akin to fear.

Perhaps it was the familiarity and safety that Gator found in you that led you both to the here and now. And perhaps you allowed it to happen because you once again glimpsed that vulnerable boy who you had fallen in love with back in high school. Nonetheless, it had spiraled fast, and now here you are, leaning back against your kitchen counter as the first tendrils of light from the morning sun begin to glimmer through the window. Your knuckles blanch from the tight grip you have on the countertop, head tipping back with parted lips as Gator’s skilled mouth makes you come alive.

You know this thing that you have rekindled is a bad idea. Roy Tillman is a nefarious being, even though no one will admit it out loud. And Gator’s only high school goal was to be just like his father. The injuries he sports now are clearly an extension of this relentless pursuit.

Yet, unlike high school, Gator no longer wants to hold back; he no longer wants to hide you under the bleachers. It's as if he worships you for the sense of stability and calm you bring to the chaotic world he surrounds himself with.

Worse still is that you took him back despite him choosing Jenny, despite his arrogance, and despite your instincts screaming at you to be wary of his father. Yet, you can still see the tenderness within him. It has been locked away for years, but when Gator is with you, the hardened exterior begins to crack, and his true self shines through. You can see it each time you find him smiling on the other side of your door for a secret rendezvous. You can feel it when he holds you close after making love until dawn. And you can hear it when he fantasizes about running away with you to some little corner of the world. Each time you are near, Gator pours gasoline on the fire within that still burns for him.

Except, how can you completely trust him? He has left you before when his father laid out a path for him. What’s to say that it won’t happen-–isn’t already happening--again?

Gator tries to urge you towards more, claiming that his father will approve of you. Your good-natured, conservative family and their loyalty to the town will win over the sheriff easily. Gator wants all of this to go faster. He wants to be with you in public like you never were as teens. But even though you give in time and time again to the secretive hookups, your apprehension of Gator’s world outside of this bubble you have created for yourselves prevents you from committing to anything more.

Until one day, your instincts ring true.

You had seen a streak of determination towards a goal unspoken build and build inside of Gator. And one night while lying tangled in the sheets, tracing soft circles into your skin, Gator hints that he is going to finally earn his father’s approval. You know better than to ask for details, too afraid of what his answer would be.

His enthusiasm shoots fear down your spine. In the dark, you know the cast on his arm and the bruise across his eye are mere warnings of what may potentially lie ahead. It pains you to admit to yourself just how much you still care about him.

Except when Gator dresses in the dim morning light and plants a soft goodbye kiss to your forehead, you never expect the day to transpire as it does.

News travels fast in small towns, and when claims of shootouts and FBI at the Tillman ranch reach the gas station diner, it locks your heart in a vice. You throw off your apron, shrug on a coat, and head for the door. Shouts from the cook don’t even register in your ears, too focused on the fear for your Gator.

You’re unsure if you will even be allowed near, but you push your beaten-up car towards the ranch anyway, sirens confirming the route as you speed down the highway.

You throw your car in park as close to the perimeter as possible and stagger your way to the police tape. Extending upwards on tiptoes, you glance around for any sign of him. Despite all your previous apprehension, you simply cannot fathom your life without Gator in it.

Finally, you spot him. He’s merely a shell, facing away and hunched over on a stretcher with his face hung low. A white bandage surrounds his head, but you release a sigh, thankful he is alive.

Making your way across the tape and waving off police officers along the way, you bolt towards Gator. You call his name tentatively, and he straightens at the sound. Except, he doesn’t turn around. It seems as though he is uncertain of where your voice is coming from. Carefully, you move around him to the front of the stretcher, and that is when the fears you had while lying tangled in bed are realised.

Your voice drops low, whispering his name and taking his hands in yours.

He calls back to you, lost in the darkness he has created for himself. The next words spoken are an apology, his body trembling and spirit broken. He truly hates what he has let himself become.

You whisper to him that it will be alright as you take him into a warm embrace. There will be time for anger and consequences later, but right now, the Gator you know–-the Gator you love--needs you to help guide him through.

Fin.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Monday, May 27

FAITH: What if he was? You're still not seeing the big picture, B. Something made us different. We're warriors. We're built to kill. BUFFY: To kill demons! But it does *not* mean that we get to pass judgment on people like we're better than everybody else! FAITH: We *are* better!

~~Consequences~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

When the Multiverse Hiccups (multi crossover, M) by JadeWine

Secrets Coming to Light (TVD crossover, not rated) by Viwiel

MedWhump May 2024 Day 27: Pain Meds (Buffy/Riley, T) by MadeInGold

do you picture me like I picture you? (Buffy/Faith, G) by gallifreyanlostintheuniverse

[Chaptered Fiction]

Something Lingers Chapter 23 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by goodbyetoyou

Early One Morning Chapter 48 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by all choseny

Afterburn: In The Dark Chapter 16 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

An odd Couple of grumpy old Brits Chapter 15 (Buffy/Spike, G) by Julikobold

Love Lives Here Chapter 68 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

Family - Lost and Found Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Joan963z

Deliverance From Destiny Chapter 13 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Ragini

Gargoyle Chapter 13 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by ClowniestLivEver

Bruises Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, adult only) by hulettwyo

The Watcher Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by In Mortal

The Chemicals Between Us Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Maxine Eden

[Images, Audio & Video]

Podcast:Conversations with Dead People S7 E7 (Buffy and the Art of Story Podcast) by lisalilly

Art:Rupert Giles reads a book by ghostrabbit87

[Request]

Fanfic Writers - Would you like to join me in writing a BuffyVerse continuation? by jdpm1991

[Fandom Discussions]

I am still working on the longer version of my thoughts on s7 by nicnacsnonsense

I wish we saw Spike as truly evil by reality-schmality

favourite episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer and favourite episode of Angel by travllingbunny

I just fucking hate how often the show paints Buffy as being in the wrong by reality-schmality

Giles/Ethan by riley-summers

Unpopular Opinions continued by multiple posters

Rewatch thoughts and questions continued by multiple posters

Is Riley more misogynistic than other characters? continued by multiple posters

Favourite bit of acting on a Whedon show? by Mott1

Should Buffy have become a vampire temporarily? by foreseethefuture

Asking if Buffy was in love with Spike is a waste of time for everyone by Cailly_Brard7

Greatest season of Buffy The Vampire Slayer ? by Cailly_Brard7

The Fargo Situation by Low-Astronomer8314

Humans (killing them vs. police) by moezilla

Quite interesting moment with Dru and Angelus by jogaforacont

You may not like it, but this is what peak male performance looks like by castor2015

Riley and Buffy by BootifulQu33n

Why I can’t ship buffy and angel… by Local_Challenge_584

Which was more shocking? by LightBlueSky55

I wanted Faith to stay and become like an older sister to Connor by LightBlueSky55

Favorite Willow line by funishin

Why is Faith so different in her appearances on Angel Season 1 by jdpm1991

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

[thisapplepielife]

Happy Smutsgiving 2023!

It's based off of this post and the goal is to post a smutty drabble today, for any pairing.

So, under the cut are (3) 100 word, smutty, unrelated Steddie drabbles. Yeah, I did one. And then did two more just for fun.

They are all rated E, so explicit adult content is under the cut below.

Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

Steddie | Word Count: 100 | Rating: E | CW: Smoking | Tags: PWP, Blow Job

Steve takes a long drag off Eddie's cigarette, and watches Eddie's pupils blow wide, making his dark eyes even darker. Steve raises an eyebrow, leaning against the wall, spreading his legs. Eddie sinks to his knees, unbuttoning Steve's jeans, tugging down the zipper.

Steve's so fucking hard, and when Eddie parts his lips around Steve's dick and strokes him with his tongue, Steve groans. He shoves one hand into Eddie's hair, while the other holds the cigarette to his mouth. Taking another drag, watching as Eddie can't tear his eyes away. His mouth full of cock, eyes full of love.

Ride

Steddie | Word Count: 100 | Rating: E | CW: Light BDSM | Tags: PWP, Grinding, Dominate Steve

Steve presses into Eddie, pushing him up against the side of the boat house. Wedging his knee between Eddie's legs, pressing upwards. Eddie squirms, but then presses back down against him. Steve can feel Eddie's cock, hard and heavy, against his thigh, even through two pairs of jeans.

"Ride me," Steve says, bracing his arm beside Eddie's head.

"Steve," Eddie whines, but he presses down, and out, grinding over and over against Steve's thigh. 

"You'll come like this, or you won't come at all," Steve says, and reaches down, and yanks on Eddie's belt loop, pulling him closer.

Eddie comes.

Be Still

Steddie | Word Count: 100 | Rating: E | CW: Light BDSM, Bondage, Handcuffs, Blindfold | Tags: PWP, Anal Sex, Dominate Eddie, Bottom Steve

Steve strains against the handcuffs, pulling, tugging, arching his hips up off the bed. He can't see, but he can feel. And he feels Eddie pressing the head of his dick into Steve's prostate, over and over. 

Slow, grinding and deliberate. It's torture. It's not enough.

It's way too much. 

"Be still, or I'll stop," Eddie warns. 

Steve whines, but lowers his hips back to the bed. Slowly.

Eddie presses his fingers into Steve's thighs, and Steve wants to see him. Touch him. 

"Good, that's better," Eddie says. 

Steve wants to be good. Better. 

Wants to be everything for Eddie.

The first one was definitely inspired by Joe Keery smoking as Gator on Fargo, and this gift of gif that always keeps on giving:

Happy Smutsgiving! This was fun, and good break from my NaNo project.

[hotluncheddie]

20 Questions For Writers!

Tagged by @puppy-steve, @scoops-aboy86 and @steviewashere ty ty !!! :3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

40!!!

2. What's your total AO3 word count

78,658 which is honestly insane to me - it still feels unbelievable when I write like 1000 words comfortably.

(For a long time writing was something I could do but had to do, never wanted to do or enjoyed. So, I never ever imagined it being my main hobby - I honestly get insecure that everything I write is so short, especially compared to how people seem to bang out 10,000w like it's nothing)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Steddie!!!!! so Stranger Things

And I have dabbled in Fargo for Gator Tillman :) Pillow

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Tiny Green Shorts 

Seasons change, but people don't. 

Stimming

Wherever you go, thats where I am.

unmasking 

(Two old ones but the fact that both autistic Steve fic's are on there makes me SO happy!!)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yesssssssss but sometimes I really don't know what to say other than 'thank you' - which feels lame, but I love comments so I always answer

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's more of a drabble but maybe thats when boys kiss ? I wrote it with the idea of the end being hopeful, but I had a couple comments and it's very easy to read it in a more angsty way - basically if you read it with Eddie dying like canon, then it becomes pretty sad

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

uh - all of them

But gonna go with Softly just because the whole thing is super soft - ooey gooey horny daddy kink my kryptonite

8. Do you get hate on fics?

nah

One day I probably will however - my first cyber bully :]

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

YA!! - all kinda - lots of freak kinks in this house - and a lot of love

I just think d/s is fun, you can play with so many kinks within the dynamic and its just cool and hot. And then you add established relationship on top, so like, that knowledge and love and like just being into stuff because your partner is - so good!

I explored a lot of kinks in my SubEddieWeek and definitely want to do more - need to write some sub Steve!

10. Do you write crossovers?

No but I do have notes for a Gator Tillman / Steddie fic so might write that at some point...

And have been dabbling with my lovely 🐶anon in some Gator Tillman / Kurt Kunkle ideas - as silly as that is lol - it's fun! - dunno if it'll ever turn into a fic though

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Don't think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Don't think so! But would not be against it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Ye kinda!!! me and @scoops-aboy86 have our Office AU series :)

Oh and the Milk fic here on tumblr heheh - its a classic

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Steddie!!!!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you will?

Ugh my "Steve has known he’s bi for years and is more knowledgeable than Eddie. Eddie is queer in a kinda vague nebulous way and it stresses him out sometimes. Bruce Springsteen born in the USA album. Coming of age, dealing with change."

I love it and I do want to write more of it but it just doesn't have the sauce yet - haven't quite figured it all out. What's it's purpose you know? Or figured out how to use that album effectively for like, themes and stuff

16. What are your writing strengths?

Uh well, right in this moment NOTHING bc I feel EMO and I'm too TIRED to write ANYTHING...

But I am happy with the sentence structure in my autistic Steve fic's - I tried to use very short and very long sentences to help express his thought processes when he's in different emotional states, and think I did it, effectively ?

Also I sometimes write stuff only bc I think it's funny - idk if it's funny for anyone else but I guess it means I have a lot of variety in my content... and silliness... which is good... (?)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Never knowing how much information to give. Sometimes i like to keep is sparse to keep the vibe going, like the tension or emotion. But sometimes I think I miss out on key descriptions and added context without noticing. Loosing more information about place and sometimes key movement and descriptions of the characters. What I lack is ✨world building✨

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I only speak little baby English so probably wouldn't do it personally - I have, like, nothing against it though?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

This one!!!!!

20. Favorite fic you've written?

hmmmmmm... I'm gonna go with three just because I wrote them all pretty recently and think they show some improvement, like I was able to express what i wanted in them. So;

Hug - Autistic Eddie my love - I like the pacing a the structure in this, I think I maybe do actually do some world building here, which gives nice context to this Eddie and where he is mentally in the moment of his meltdown.

Love in a safety pin - I think it's one of my favourite feedist kink fic's that I've written, just because I think it's a good mix of the kink and their developing relationship. Like it's not all just horny, there's plot and character development, along with being hot. Like, I think it does a good job of showing what the kink can be, because it maybe gets a bad rap. It's a lot of different things, and it's hot when its pleasurable for both parties, and it's still just people with the same emotions as any other kinks, still pining, still insecurity... ya idk :)

Bi Freak - I just really wanted to do a good degradation kink, like some straight masochism you know? And I think I did an okay job. Also this is a dom Steve that I think is very actually fitting for the character but I haven't really read before, so, I wanted to explore that too.

-

Not gonna tag bc I don't have the capacity too right now but i'm seriously not joking if you want to do this - here, you're tagged.

Tag me and I WILL shout in the comments about it

[harley-sunday]

Maxiel Heist AU

Originally posted this on the sideblog but figured it might as well go up here. Wrote this in one go because I needed some sort of Maxiel robbery/heist AU in my life. There's a more elaborate fic in here somewhere but for now I hope you enjoy this drabble/set up (1.7k) even though this is not what I normally write at all. Also, I know this is not factually accurate but...

The thing is- Max Verstappen likes to be prepared. Likes to leave nothing to chance, likes to plan ahead, and likes to know exactly what to expect at any given time. 

Which is why, from Monday to Friday, his days are pretty much carbon copies of each other. He wakes up five minutes before his seven AM alarm, gets up, showers, and puts on his clothes - a dark navy suit with a white dress shirt and a pair of brown leather shoes that he only wears for a year before he replaces them. The same goes for his suit by the way. Every year, during the mandatory break his boss makes him take between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, he goes to the same tailor he’s been going to ever since he started his job two years ago and gets a new suit and ten new dress shirts. Last year his sister went along and pressured him into buying a navy tie she said would bring out the color of his eyes but that still lays of course untouched in the back of his closet somewhere.

Max still styles his hair the same way he's done ever since he was old enough to do it himself and then puts on the same cologne he’s used since he turned eighteen, when his sister gifted him a bottle of Tom Ford Azure Lime for his birthday, which, unlike the tie, he does like. He kisses his, barely awake, boyfriend of two years goodbye before he heads to the kitchen and makes himself the same breakfast he’s been having ever since he moved out of his mother’s home. Two pieces of toast with a slice of cheese on each and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Simple, but it does the trick.

Once he's had breakfast, he tends to his two cats, Jimmy and Sassy, who get some cuddles before Max changes their water, tops up their bowls with some cat food, and cleans out their litter boxes. He always checks his weather app right as he grabs his car keys, to see if he needs to bring his coat, before he heads out the door and takes the elevator down to the parking area of his apartment building and fires up his Porsche 911, a birthday gift from his boyfriend when he turned twenty-five last year. He drives out onto Fremont Street at exactly seven fifty because leaving early only means he’ll spend more time at work than he intends to and leaving late means he’ll be stuck behind a school bus most of the way. 

He’s been working as a financial advisor for the past year, moved up through the ranks pretty quickly once the bank’s manager saw his potential and made him his protegé. Max is still not sure the regional manager, a certain Dr. Helmut Marko he's only met once, agrees with this decision, but then again Max doesn't really care what the weird old Austrian guy has to say. He won't be working here much longer anyway.

The branch of Wells Fargo he works at is on the smaller side, ten or so employees in total, located on the outskirts of a mall in one of the city’s more wealthier suburbs, but Max likes it. Likes how, even though he meets different clients throughout the week, there still is a certain familiar rhythm to his day. He knows that when he gets in at eight-fifteen, Damian, the security guard, will greet him from behind the morning newspaper with a curt nod and a, “Morning, Mr Verstappen.” Knows that Bea, one of the bank tellers, will be standing at the coffee machine in the break room and will either complain about the weather or the traffic she was faced with that morning, while Portia, the other bank teller, will have her hands folded around a mug of steaming hot tea and nod in agreement. He doesn't care much for Bea or Portia, the two middle aged women far too nosy and invested in his private life for his liking, and so Max sticks to smalltalk mostly.

The thing is- Max Verstappen likes to be prepared. Likes to leave nothing to chance and likes to plan ahead.

Which is why his first client of the day always comes in at eight forty-five, because Max knows by now a meeting usually takes no longer than fifty minutes, and knows not to schedule another meeting right after because there’s a coffee break at ten. And because he of course doesn't drink coffee he takes a Red Bull instead. The first of four he'll have throughout the day- Five if it's the weekend.

His next meeting is always at ten-thirty and then another one at twelve, allowing for a lunch break at one. Max gets made fun of by Bea and Portia, and sometimes Damian too, because his lunch is just as varied as his breakfasts - a tomato soup and a carpaccio sandwich from the bodega around the corner he has been buying ever since he started working here. After a month of ordering the same lunch, Andy, the shop owner, stopped asking Max for his order and simply made sure he had his food ready to go at one o’clock. 

By now he also knows that the hours between one and three are relatively calm and that Bea and Portia have come to take turns going outside for a short walk after their lunch break, leaving only one teller out front for about half an hour at a time. Every day at exactly one-fifty, Damian disappears for ten minutes or so, for his after-lunch toilet break. On Thursdays there’s a Brinks truck that comes in at two to pick up the money deposited to the bank the week prior and Max knows that even though technically Damian should be present for the exchange, the Brinks’ guys know their way around the building and usually finish up before Damian even comes back.  

Max schedules his third client of the day at three, leaving him some time to catch up on emails and administrative tasks he thinks are the most dreadful part of his job. His last client of the day comes in at four and by five he’s ready to head home and settle into his evening routine of a workout, a shower, dinner, and some Fifa or Call of Duty on his Playstation before he goes to bed at ten. His days blend together seamlessly, his almost every waking minute accounted for in a carefully constructed regimen that he’s perfected over the years. 

The thing is- Max Verstappen likes to be prepared. Likes to leave nothing to chance.

Which is why it is weird that at one-fifty two on a random Thursday afternoon in November he remains seemingly calm when three masked men walk into the building and try to rob the bank, disturbing an otherwise quiet afternoon. Portia panics and starts screaming before they shut her up by gagging her and tying her to her chair in a haphazard way. Before Christian or Max have time to respond, two of the men make their way to Christian’s office while the other one barricades the door to the staff bathroom, locking in Damian. Christian gets held at gunpoint and is made to open the safe that holds the money Brinks is supposed to pick up in eight minutes. Christian tries to tell the men he doesn’t have the code, that only Brinks can open the safe, and for a moment it looks like the robbers believe him but then one of them catches Max’s eye and throws him a wink before he cocks his gun, puts it against Christian’s temple, finger on the trigger, and says, “Didn’t your momma teach you not to lie, boss?” 

It’s then Max remembers he’s supposed to have pushed the panic button located on the side of his desk the minute these guys walked in and he does so at one fifty-six, right as Christian gives in and opens the safe. He watches in silence as at least four or five bags filled with bank notes get taken out of the safe and get put into a large black duffel bag that one of the guys hoists onto his shoulder. Just as quickly as they entered the men start to retreat but not before one of them points a finger gun at Max and pretends to shoot him. Max doesn’t say anything and waits until the men have disappeared before he rushes to Christian who tells him to check on Portia first. 

Max knows it will take another two or three minutes before the police arrive and later he’ll explain to them that he blacked out for a second, too shocked by what was going on to think logically and apologizing for not pushing the button sooner. The detective he gives his statement to will nod and tell him, “Don’t worry, son. It’s hard to predict how we will act in stressful situations.” Max has to bite his tongue to not tell the detective that, “I of course knew how I was going to react.” 

He spends longer than he wants talking to the police, repeating his statement over and over again, his dinner a box of Chinese takeout one of the officers picked up for him and the detective. 

The thing is- Max Verstappen likes to be prepared. 

Which is why, when he finally makes it home later that night he can’t help but smile when he finds his boyfriend standing in the kitchen, whipping up what looks to be like a late-night snack. Max sneaks his arms around Daniel's waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder, voice raspy from talking all evening, "Hey."

"Hey," Daniel replies, putting his hand over Max's where it rests on Daniel's stomach and intertwining their fingers. "You had a good day at work?"

Max scoffs but chuckles, "I did."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Max echoes, letting go of Daniel so he can spin his boyfriend around and finally kiss him. With his lips still ghosting over Daniel's he returns the question, "Did you?"

Daniel pulls back a little, eyes darting to the living room where Max knows there's a now-empty black duffel bag hidden away somewhere, and points a one-handed finger gun at Max, clicking his tongue to mimic the shot, "I did."

[winchestershiresauce]

Thanks for the tag, @selene-themoon !

Last song: not sure but Working Man by RUSH is stuck in my head

Favorite color: orange

Currently watching: Fargo, season 3

Last movie/TV show: been binging Fargo while sick thanks to @say-al0e

Spicy/savory/sweet: I need all of the above, especially savory and sweet

Relationship status: married

Current obsession: Baldur's Gate 3, wholeheartedly

Last thing I googled: cat dry skin remedies

Tagging: @say-al0e @writerwoed @saradika @drabbles-mc @withmyteeth

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

Warnings: Language, smut, vaginal sex, secret relationship, and NSFW.

~*~

Calendars, planners, post it notes, journals, scrap paper, napkins — hell, even an essay at your therapist’s office to weigh out the pros and cons. Reminders to not give in, don’t do it, the level of condemn you’re just sinking onto your knees for. He’s not good for you, he doesn’t love you, and you tell yourself every single day when you wake up with him on your mind, where he takes control of your dreams, to the moment that your eyes open from a shaky slumber. Nothing helps. No one can help you. Only him…

You let him pick you up in his shitty truck, maneuvering you into the same positions, until he ends up dragging your ass over the end of the passenger seat like he normally does, and stands with his pants below his own, fucking you with a deeply rough precision as you cling to the floorboard, and try not to get yourself upset at his predictable rejection of your attempt to grasp his door frame - clutching hand. It doesn’t work, it never works.

And Gator can see through you, emotions not readily available to him yet. He wants to, but he just… can’t.

His hair has come undone, strands flopping, gel clinging to the ends, irises in shards and glittering under the streetlights. You can only see the plush of his firmly trim thighs, all hairy and matching to what’s on his chest. But you can’t see, cannot feel his ass. You need him closer. You’re doe eyed and staring him down before you can stop it.

You won’t do this anymore, will you? This has to be the breaking point.

“Come on, stop lookin’ at me like that,” his accentuated voice punches through the air in pants. Diaphragm deep, he slows his rhythm with a groan.

You let your eyes lift to the clothing ceiling, various tears being counted to self-distract.

“I’ll let you kiss me tonight. Will that help, sour puss?”

It jumpstarts your heart more than you’d like to admit, feelings way deeper surfacing. You tighten around him, and it’s enough for him to lean in, pinching your chin in his hold, calloused thumb pulling down your bottom lip and releasing. His tongue slides across his mouth, then he’s leaning, hands sliding from the door frame the second that you cup his jaw in your hands, pressing your mouth to his, taking his offer for all that it’s worth. He gets into it more than he’s prepared for, falling into you, only for you to stop and lift your legs around his waist, hands moving, eyes glancing down as you push his pants completely below his ass, squeezing the fat with a defined moan into his mouth.

“Yeah? That what you wanted to do?” He grits, biting into your bottom lip to claim. “You needed to feel up on my ass, baby?”

“Like this. Do it to me like this.” You go for it, letting him know you can’t lean back, that he has to go chest to chest with you.

He clicks his tongue as you part with a string of shared saliva, tilting his head to object. “Please, Gator?” Your fingers move from his jaw to pressing into his lips.

There’s a look that comes over him, one you’ve never seen before. Melancholy, deprived, rawly pure. He inclines his head to agree, gulping, tumbling ass over elbow (he’s never been very coordinated). You can smell him this close — all Old Spice and hair gel, acidic fruit and chew mingled on his breath, layering on your tongue. He brings you back in with a massive palm around your nape, thumb caressing your jawline, and he moves, taking you with him. The intensity doubles when it’s he who brings his mouth back to yours, unrelenting now that he’s had your taste again.

He promises himself it’s just this last time with you, like he always does. But he knows it’s a lie…

You both know…

[oldfangirl81]

I went to check if I'd written Jo Lupo/Faith piece and yes in 2009. But I forgot about my tiny obsession with Fargo besides this one I also wrote Faith and him having sex(off screen).

[vigilvntes]

MAN I JUST WANT HCS OR A DRABBLE ON VIGILANTE X READER X PEACEMAKER SOFT VERSION. LIKE COME ON THEY >>>

HELLO so i'm very drunk right now and i have no idea what the fuck this is or why i wrote it but here we are we move you have 1500+ words of disorganised chaotic domestic adrian x reader x chris that i found way too funny while i was writing it 💀 i just wanna be with both of them you know 😔

Bed time was always chaotic.

Between Chris' rigorous nightly routine which entailed him spending at least half an hour in the bathroom flexing in the mirror (he doesn't know you know this, but you do and you're waiting for the right time to hold it over his head), and Adrian whining about not being able to sleep until he's watched an episode of Fargo, it takes at least an hour for all three of you to finally settle down to sleep.

You were desperate to use the bathroom, practically bouncing on your heels as you resisted the urge to pound on the bathroom door again, knowing you would only be met with a false promise of 'just one more minute' from Chris.

Adrian, on the other hand, was sat quietly on the bed, Fargo box set in his hand as he tried to figure out which episode the three of you had watched the night before. Not that it really mattered, you had watched the whole thing at least six times over anyway.

"Dude, why can't we just use Netflix?" You asked, leaning against the wall, your arms folded over your chest.

"It's not the same." Adrian mumbled, his eyes scanning over the episode description on every box.

"Explain to me how it isn't the same. You spend at least fifteen minutes every night trying remember which episode we watched the night before. Netflix literally saves your place."

"It's just not as authentic, okay?" He huffed, placing yet another dvd box down on the bed.

"It'd save a lot of time, that's all I'm saying..." You mumbled.

Before Adrian could argue back, you heard the bathroom door click, and when you looked over you saw Chris in the doorway (in nothing but his white underwear and a pair of socks, of course), a confused expression on his features, directed at you. "He makes us watch fuckin' Fargo every night and your only question is 'why can't we use Netflix?' not 'why the fuck are we watching Fargo every night?'"

You pushed yourself off of the wall and gave Chris a shrug, "I don't mind Fargo. It's not as bad as you make it out to be."

"Are you kidding me? The first time? Fine. I would go as far to say that I enjoyed it. The sixth time? Not so much."

Adrian was about to protest, but you cut him off. "I don't care. We're watching Fargo. Now move. I need to use the bathroom."

Chris stepped out of your way and you heard Adrian shift from the bed. "Adrian Chase if you follow me into this bathroom I'll hurt you."

"But I need to use the bathroom, too!" He whined out. It wouldn't have surprised you if he started stomping his feet like a toddler.

You turned to him, leaning against the doorframe. "I know you, and I know that you just wanna see if i'll let you pee between my legs again."

"You let him do that?!" Chris exclaimed, pointing a finger at Adrian whilst he glared at you.

"Yeah." You shrugged. "He wouldn't shut the fuck up about it so I caved. He has surprisingly steady aim, actually."

"You should've been there. It was cool as fuck." Adrian nodded, flashing a boyish grin over at Chris.

Chris was about to argue, so you shut the bathroom door before the two of them could drag you into their bickering again. From behind the door you heard Chris complain about how you 'let Adrian get away with anything'.

You just rolled your eyes and went about your business, using the toilet, changing into your pyjamas and brushing your teeth. You had managed to drown out their voices, the two of them still going at it about peeing between your legs and how you 'never would have allowed Chris to do that' everytime you tuned back in.

Adrian yelling your name caught your attention, and you almost groaned out loud. You were enjoying your moment of peace and quiet alone in the bathroom. "What?" You called out.

"Do you know where my Tuesday socks are?"

You opened the bathroom door reluctantly, leaning against the frame as you ran your hand through your hair. "Why would I know where you put your Tuesday socks?"

"I don't know, I just assume you know everything." He mumbled back.

"Can't we just find your socks in the morning?" You whined, practically pleading with him already. You knew how this would end already, and honestly you couldn't handle another night of desperately searching for Adrian's socks.

"No, because you always say that and then we never find my socks and then I have to wear Thursday socks on a Tuesday. Do you even realise how fucked up that is?" Adrian gave you a look of disgust.

"Oh, you wanna talk to me about fucked up?"

Chris was being surprisingly quiet.

Usually, he would make some sarcastic comment about Adrian's strange habits. But this time, he was just standing next to the bed in silence, biting back a laugh. From where you stood, it looked like he was almost trying to hide his feet under the bed.

"Chris?" He glanced over to you immediately. "Any... Any thoughts? Any ideas as to where his Tuesday socks could possibly be?" You had successfully moved the focus away from yourself.

"Nope." Chris answered, quickly.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think how quickly you answered that question was pretty suspicious." Adrian replied, narrowing his eyes at Chris.

"It's not suspicious. I don't know where your Tuesday socks are." Chris answered quickly, once again.

"Now that?" Adrian pointed at Chris, "That was suspicious, right (Y/N)?"

"Please don't involve me in this anymore than I need to be involved." You groaned out, making your way over to the bed and plopping down right in the middle, preparing for the inevitable argument.

"If you don't have them, show me your feet."

"Dude, what the fuck? I'm not showing you my feet. I don't have your fuckin' Tuesday socks."

"Show. Me. Your. Feet."

A scoff from Chris, "No. I don't have to do anything you say."

"SHOW ME YOUR FEET."

"Fuck, fine!" Chris shuffled over to Adrian reluctantly.

Judging from the look on Adrian's face, you assumed that Chris did, in fact, have the Tuesday socks on his feet.

"I knew it!"

Chris rolled his eyes, "Dude, these aren't even your socks."

"They're the same colour!"

"Yeah, maybe we have the same socks?"

Your tired eyes flitted between Adrian and Chris as they went back and forth over a pair of socks. Chris was stubborn, but eventually he relented and was forced to admit that they were the Tuesday socks after he was forced to show the weekday written in bubble writing on the sole. Adrian, on the other hand, was on a whole other level of stubborn.

"I don't even want them anymore."

You groaned, "Adrian, come on. We can wash them in morning."

"It's not the same. Chris has huge feet. I already know they won't fit me anymore."

"Dude, his feet aren't much bigger than yours. It'll be fine." You tried to reason.

"... Okay maybe you're right about that. But they'll probably never fit the same again."

Another few minutes passed by filled with Chris and Adrian bickering about socks and whatever else they could possibly think of (like that one time six years ago when Chris borrowed Adrian's copy of Alien and never gave it back), with you making the occasional sarcastic comment.

"Okay, enough!" You yelled, glancing between the two men who stood facing each other at the end of the bed, arms folded across their chests. "Both of you in bed, now."

You pulled the sheets back and slipped yourself into the bed, situating your head right in the middle of the two pillows. They gave each other one last glare before making their way round to opposite sides of the bed.

You felt the bed dip to your left, letting you know that Adrian had climbed into bed. When you glanced to your right, you saw Chris stood above you, looking down at you expectantly.

"Scootch." He demanded.

"What? No, I'm comfy."

"It's my turn in the middle."

"It's not... anyone's turn in the middle? I got here first. Snooze you lose."

Chris groaned, "Come on, let me in the middle. I don't wanna spend another night freezing my ass off becasue fuckin' Fargo over there," he gestured to Adrian, "can't stop stealing the blankets."

"Hey! I don't do it consciously!" Adrian protested from beside you (but it came out as more of a whine).

"Wouldn't it make more sense to put him in the middle?"

Chris was silent for a few moments before he sighed, "Fuck. You're right."

"Swap with me?" You asked, glancing over at Adrian. You didn't even give him the chance to reply before you were climbing over him and taking his spot on the left side of the bed.

"Fucking fine. Fucking hate being in the middle. Gets too fucking hot." Adrian grumbled under his breath.

"Funny, I don't see you complaining about being too hot when you have the whole blanket to yourself." You remarked.

Chris climbed into bed and the three of you spent a few minutes shifting around, finding a comfortable spot to settle down for the night (which didn't come without Chris kicking Adrian a few times in protest of his cold feet getting dangerously close to Chris' bare legs).

Eventually, you settled for your head on Adrian's shoulder, with Chris laid on his stomach after switching off the lamp, allowing for his arm to drape over the both of you. You kissed both of them, mumbling your 'goodnight, I love you's' and closed your eyes, feeling yourself slip off into dreamland already after an exhausting half hour of trying to get both men into bed.

Adrian's voice cut through the quiet. "Hey, Chris?"

"What?"

"I forgot to put Fargo on."

A low groan, followed by a mumbled 'are you fucking kidding me?', followed by Chris getting out of bed.

He was right: the two of you truly let Adrian get away with anything.

[purplelupins]

| MASTERLIST |

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE WITH ANYTHING MARKED AS NSFW/SMUT

Commissions are closed

Nora’s current obsessions

I write fem!reader inserts many fandoms that you can see below! Sometimes I take requests, but currently I am not.

Thank you!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Harry Potter

Remus Lupin

-Hope (angst)

-In the Woods Somewhere(ON HOLD) (NSFW:adventure, violence, angst, fluff, smut)

Clothing page

***MASTER-LIST ***

Severus Snape

- In The Hall (Hurt/Comfort and fluff)

- Nothings Going to Hurt You (Comfort and fluff)

-The Wicked Game (smut)

•Part I

•Part II

•Part III

-Breathless (fluff, wife!professor!reader)

Sirius Black

-Twelve Years (hurt/comfort)

-The Tease (smut)

- His Angel

• part I

•part II (SMUT)

Fargo

V.M. Varga

-Obedience (smut)

•Part 1

•Part 2

•Part 3

•Part 4

•Part 5

Sweeney Todd

Judge Turpin

-Without You (slow burn with eventual smut) on hiatus

CAST

•Chapter 1

•Chapter 2

•Chapter 3

•Chapter 4

•Chapter 5

•Chapter 6

•Chapter 7

•Chapter 8

Woman in the Window

Allistair Russell

-Man in the Window (smut with plot) complete

• Part I

•Part II

•Part III

•Part IV

•Part V (final)

Don’t Breathe

Norman Nordstrom

- Every Breath You Take (smut. oneshot)

Shawshank Redemption

Andy Dufresne

-Sanctuary (smut)

The Black Phone

The Grabber

-Headcanons(sfw&nsfw)

-Sugar, Sugar(nsfw)

Part I

Part II

- Sweet Dreams (dark nsfw) complete

•Part I

• Part II

•Part III

• Part IV(smut)

•Part V (smut)

•Part VI (smut)

-My Pretty Girl (nsfw smut)

-Good Comes to Those Who Wait (dark nsfw smut)

-Happy together (ongoing) (dark Smut)

•Part I

•Part II

•Part III

The Magnificent Seven

Goodnight Robicheux

-Kiss of an Angel

•Part I

•Part II

The Quarry

Travis Hackett

-Bad Moon Rising

•Part I

• Part II

• Part III

• Part IV

Midnight Mass

Father Paul Hill

Lamb (masterlist)

- Part I

- Part II

- Part III

- Part IV

- Part V

-Part VI

Unholy Piety (dark!smut)

Better Call Saul

Lalo Salamanca

What Kind of Man (Smut Drabble)

-Salvator (Crime, Smut)

Part I

Part II

Watchmen

Rorschach/Walter Kovacs

A Pretty Butterfly (oneshot nsfw)

Robocop

Rick Mattox/reader

Losers. Weepers (nsfw oneshot)

Ghost (Band)

Terzo/reader

Agnellino (smut)

Ghost Recon: Breakpoint

Cole Walker/reader

Dumb Puppy (dark smut)

Actors x reader

Christoph waltz

- Rapture (fluff, angst/comfort, nsfw) complete

•Part I (fluff, angst/comfort)

•Part II (fluff, angst/comfort, a little nsfw but nothing explicit)

•Part III(fluff/smut)

•Part IV FINAL (fluff)

[starksbabie]

Hello! Most of my works are sfw unless otherwise noted but because I’m an adult mdni 18+ only! Below the cut you will find my masterlist for Marvel, Stranger Things, & Fargo. I’m open for requests or just general asks 🥰 thank you for visiting my blog!

Bucky Barnes

In the Rain - 40s!Bucky x Reader 4 + 1 - 4 times you enjoy the rain and the 1 time it ruins you. (750 Words)

Steve Rogers

Here for You - Steve Rogers x Reader - Hurt/ComfortAfter weeks away on a long mission Steve comes home to find you feeling the big sad and does his best to let you know how much he cares. (400 Words) Warnings: Depression, Depression Messes

Natasha Romanoff

Chronically in Love with You - Natasha x ChronicallyIll!Reader - Natasha comforts her chronically ill partner. (550 Words)

What You Deserve - Follow up to Chronically in Love with You - Reader tries to leave, feeling that Natasha deserves better than her. (1,300 Words)

Loki Laufeyson

Love is a Dagger - Loki x Reader - Smut - Loki confronts the reader after a misunderstanding on the training field, angry sex ensues with a bit of knife kink. (815 Words)

Warnings: Smut, Knife Kink.

Sam Wilson

You Are Not Alone - Sam x Reader - Hurt/Comfort Drabble - Sam comforts the reader after a bad day. (350 Words)

Promise? Promise - Sam x Reader - Sam comforts Reader who's having a panic attack. (650 Words)

Eddie Munson

Sanctuary - Eddie Munson x Reader - Angst - Eddie helps Reader let out some pent-up feelings, but good things don't always last. (700 Words)

Marshmellow - Eddie Munson x Reader - Fluff - After meeting at Scoops Ahoy, Eddie takes you to see a horror movie. You're not scared, right? (1,100 Words)

Scared of the Dark - Eddie Munson x Marshmallow!Reader - Smut - Reader is scared of the dark so Eddie invites her to spend the night with him so she doesn’t have to spend the night home alone after the power goes out and one thing leads to another. (1,400 Words)

Warnings: light smut (dry humping, groping), weed mention

You Belong With Me - Eddie Munson x Reader - Hurt/Comfort - Eddie’s got what he always dreamed of, he is passing his classes, Hellfire is going great, Corroded Coffin is sounding better than ever, Chrissy Cunningham is his girlfriend, and his best friend Y/N is right by his side. Inspired by Taylor Swift’s You Belong With Me where Eddie overlooks his best friend who is completely in love with him... or does he? (1,400 Words)

Gator Tillman

The Ink That Binds Us - Alpha!Gator Tillman x Omega!Reader - Omega reader moves to Stark County, ND after her grandmother dies and she inherits her house. She gets a job at a local diner where she meets charismatic asshole alpha, Deputy Gator Tillman. Will his rough around-the-edge ways push her away before she even knows that he’s her perfect match? (5,400 Words) [running total]

Warnings: Soulmates AU, A/B/O, eventual smut, 18+ mdni, mentioned unwanted touching, soulmates have matching tattoos, Gator Tillman (he’s his own warning)

Ch 1, Ch 2

aww, avengers - kid fic collection

Writing event with @comfortcap 6 blurbs featuring your favorite Avengers as parents.

[ithinkwehitametaphor]

Masterlist

Narcos:

Javier x Reader

.

Javi x female reader [short imagine / words: 458]

Javi x reader [smutty short / words: 202]

Javi x reader [soft, slightly spicy, death mention / words: 1015]

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Javi x Steve (Stavier)

.

High Maintenance [An ongoing series on AO3 / NSWF / for more warnings see tags on AO3 / current word count: 17,195]

Border Lights [Ask inspired short / smutty / words: 548]

No more Solo Action [Ask inspired short / smutty / words: 541]

[bits and pieces, brainstorming, gifs: #stavier]

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Steve Murphy x Reader

.

unmarried!Steve Murphy (Narcos) x female reader [inferred sexual harassment, cunnilingus, sex / words: 3799]

.

The Sandwich Chronicles (unmarried!Steve Murphy (Narcos) x female reader) [ Welcome Back - part one of  ?  / words: 2552]

[Hidden Treasure - part two of ? / words: 1511]

[Dinner for Two - part three of ? / words: 3113]

[Nightcap - part four of ? / words: 2703 / NSFW]

[Bliss - part five of ? / words: 1628 / NSFW]

[ Angel - part six of ? / words: 1447]

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Two/One:

Kaden Russell x Reader (OC)

Past/Present/Future

[Chapter One / words: 1197 / tw: terminal illness]

[Chapter Two / words: 1697 / tw: terminal illness]

[Chapter Three / words: 1318 / tw: terminal illness; death]

[Chapter Four / words: 2774 / tw: terminal illness; death]

[Chapter Five / words: 2332 / tw: terminal illness; death]

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Fargo (Season 1):

Mr. Wrench x Mr. Numbers (Wrenchers)

Erstwhile [Concluded Prequel to Fargo Season 1 / canon rewrite / NSWF / for more warnings see tags on AO3 / words: 59,405]

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Drabbles, Headcanons, Prompts etc.

Narcos: Javier x Steve (Stavier)

Lights Out: Omar Assarian x Patrick ‘Lights’ Leary

Fargo (FX): Mr. Numbers x Mr. Wrench

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You can find these fics and a few more on AO3 as well: ithinkwehitametaphor