#she was cool otherwise so i miss her already | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luxurychristmaspudding · 5 months

Text

Arizona | On Call

part i

summary: frankie has a question.

pairing: neighbour!frankie morales x f!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. dual pov. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. mostly fluff here, folks. and some (maybe a lot of?) angst. just a couple of buds chillin'. some talk of dead/absent parents.

reader is a teacher and has hair, but she is otherwise a blank slate.

wc: 5.1k

an: wow - i really did not expect this little guy to get the response it did yesterday. eternally grateful for your support and enthusiasm. i love you. hope y'all enjoy <3

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

That taste All I ever needed All I ever wanted Too dumb to surrender

- arizona, kings of leon

series masterlist | main masterlist

It’s quiet in the house.

Golden, gooey sunlight pools on the living room floor, slanting through the windows. It’s warm against the arm he has resting on the edge of the sofa, not a chirp or a lawnmower whirring outside, and when Frankie closes his eyes, you’re the first thing he sees.

Evenings like this are the mirror of when your truck first rattled up the street and groaned to a halt outside your front door. He can see it now, within the darkness behind his eyelids, how he’d peeked from behind the curtains in Lucia’s stifling room, her small, sleeping body sprawled on the bed behind him. How the truck door had swung open, how your bare legs had emerged from the cool of the cab, how you’d hopped down onto the pavement and raised a hand to shield your eyes from the low-lying sun. You’d licked your teeth as you’d rechecked the address and looked up at the house - your house. Blown a deep breath out from your cheeks and then turned back to the truck to scrabble around for your keys.

Frankie had turned from the window as soon as you’d bent across the front seat, only glimpsing the bottom of the plush of your ass peeking from below your sweat shorts before he’d swept the curtain and the image aside.

He’d given it two minutes before he’d clattered out of his front door at the same time as you’d emerged from yours, raising a hand in greeting over the fence that separated your houses. You’d answered with a wide grin and a lilting hey, neighbour as he’d looped the boundary, holding out a palm for you to shake. I'm Frankie, he’d said, shooting a thumb over his shoulder at his open front door. From across the way. You’d given him your name in return, quirking an eyebrow as you asked whether he was feeling strong.

The truth is, that day Frankie would have been whatever you needed him to be. Immediately taken by your warm charm, your glinting smile - the mischief always just behind your eyes, the way you moved through your house. Even now, he cooks you dinner during exam season when you’re up to your eyeballs in papers, mows your lawn when he’s already cutting his own. Offers a shoulder to cry on when you’re missing your dad, always your best friend with spare beers when you’re free on a Saturday night - and you never fail to return the favour.

The way things are now, it’s like he can’t even remember what it was like to not have you next door. What it was like when he wasn’t launching your paper onto your porch, what it was like when you weren’t soaking him and Lucia with the hose over the fence as they launched water balloons at you from the other side, both your backyards filled with squeals and shouts of laughter. He’s so glad - so infinitely glad - that fate or whatever it was that had a hand in these things dropped you on the curb that evening a year ago. That he had grinned and laughed and said yes ma’am, that he had lept at the chance to be a good neighbour and started lifting the boxes from the truck bed, helped you set up your wifi, invited you in for a beer in his kitchen when you ordered food for the two of you as Lucia slept soundly upstairs.

He remembers being shocked at how easy it was. Easy conversation, easy laughter, easy silence. Easy friendship.

How he’d looked forward to seeing you across your lawns in the morning, calling out your greetings as you clambered into your truck and he fastened Lucia into her booster in his. The catch ups over the fence when you’d finished your days, recounting stories from the classroom or cockpit, Lucia chipping in her own from nursery. The delight in your eyes when they’d knocked on your door a couple of weekends after you’d moved in, arms laden with a tub of homemade cookies. How you’d invited them in, drinking coffee and juice, how easily you’d gotten on with Lucia. She’d adored you after that first afternoon spent together, falling asleep in your lap as you’d settled in front of the TV in low evening light. You and Frankie had talked long afterwards in lowered voices, you refusing to be relieved of his daughter’s tiny sleeping body, insisting you were just as comfortable as she was. The little girl only stirred when Frankie made you snort with laughter at something one of his friends had said.

Conversation had turned to friends, family. He told you about his brothers in arms, his mom and dad, Lucia’s mother. A woman who was jetting across the country as a flight attendant, an amicable breakup leading to easy co-parenting. You’d gladly told him about your friends, but hesitated before telling him of how your mom had disappeared from your life when you were little, how your dad had passed away a couple years back. He’d stretched an arm out, one hand settling on and squeezing your knee. Big palms warm and heavy, thick fingers gentle and understanding. When you’d followed the line of his arm up to meet his eyes again, crow's feet folded in their corners. Kindness, understanding. Someone who knew loss, too.

He asked about your dad, what he was like, and you’d regaled him with stories of growing up with ice-cream dates, summers you spent fishing on the local lake, how he’d carry you on his shoulders, his tight throat when he told you how proud he was of you at graduation.

He’d tentatively asked if your dad had been why you moved out here, understanding the need to put physical distance between yourself and the pain and memory of your surroundings.

No, you’d said, eyes glinting ruefully, this was because of a breakup.

Frankie hadn’t pushed for anymore after that.

You’d invited them over for dinner the weekend after, and Frankie had stood by your side in the kitchen, insisting on helping you cook, immovable despite the rag you whipped at him. As you chopped and fried, you'd told Lucia about stars and blackholes and plants and bugs. She was especially taken by bugs.

You’d dug out books you’d borrowed - and never returned - from the school library for her to pore over, even giving her a magnifying glass to use to hunt for critters in your backyard as you and Frankie had washed up afterwards. The three of you then spent an hour on your hands and knees on the grass as Lucia found worms and beetles and caterpillars, a soft smile on Frankie’s face as you shouldered her never-ending questions with all the grace of a bona-fide teacher.

Every night that week, Lucia had clamoured to go next door and see the bug lady again.

Frankie had had to explain that you were busy working (yes, even this late, mija), and then had to endure the tiny stomping of feet as Lucia explained to him - with all the levity a four-year-old could muster - that there just weren’t enough bugs in their garden; they had to see the bug lady.

Bug lady. The first nickname they’d christened you with. You’d laughed with a full chest when he told you, and assured him it would be a mantle you’d bear with honour. Bug lady. And then, with time and growing softness, it was shortened to bug, and it stuck.

Tonight, there is a different question to can we come over and look for bugs? that he needs to ask.

He thinks - knows - you’re the right person for it. Deep in his heart. Can count on one hand the number of people he’d entrust the safety of his daughter with, and all of them are too far away to call.

He needs a babysitter. And so far, he’s gotten nowhere fast with his inquiries.

The numbers he’s tried have been polite enough, more than good at their jobs. But they have clients already, families who came way before him that meant accommodating sitting at relatively short notice would be sporadic at best and impossible at worst.

And he’s running out of time.

His first late night flight is Thursday; some rich guy taking a date up into the skies to watch the view over the city. It’s good money, and he'd be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the sights, too. The glimmer of the city below, the ridges of the hills, flash of the ocean in the distance. The worlds and lives of so many people cradled in the bowl of the valley. It’s beautiful, humbling. It’s worth sharing.

You’d enjoy it, he knows. And every night flight reminds him of an evening not too long ago when he’d struck a deal with you, asking you to grab him a beer when you’d gotten up to go to the bathroom mid-movie. You’d wiggled your eyebrows at him, what’s in it for me?

He’d snorted at you, offering various services and items in exchange, all refused, but then before I’ll take you up in the heli if you - had even finished leaving his mouth, you’d leaped up from the sofa, grabbing his hand to shake on it before he could back out. At night. You’d specified, nodding, wide-eyed as though he’d been the one to say it.

He’d rolled his eyes at your eagerness, demanding you make sure it was an extra cold one for that, and you’d bowed in the doorway, smirking.

‘At your service, my liege,’ you’d said, before scampering out the way of the cushion Frankie launched at you.

He’d had to ask you to explain to Lucia why she shouldn’t call him my liege two days later, when it seemed she’d lost the meaning of Papi in an effort to be like you. You’d snorted into your soda when he told you, but had fixed Lucia with serious eyes when you told her that Papi was a very special name to call her dad, one that helped him feel loved and appreciated. Lucia had acquiesced quickly afterwards, stretching her arms out to Frankie before he lifted her from her chair, tucking her face into his neck as she apologised profusely, reassuring him that she still loved him the same, just that my liege had sounded so fun coming from your mouth. Frankie had looked over her curls at your bitten lip, your silent laughter, holding his own amusement behind his teeth as he stroked her back and cooed that he knew, mija, it’s okay.

He remembers, with a lurch below his navel, how Lucia had then asked whether you’d call him Papi to show him he was loved, too. How both your jaws had fallen slack, how something had flickered behind your eyes too quickly for him to catch before you’d told her you call him other things to the same effect. Fish, buddy, and then mouthed over the top of her head, asshole. Frankie had laughed, the jumping of his body pushing Lucia into her own giggles, and you’d soon followed.

It’s strange how much like a family you’ve become over the last year, how well you’ve slotted into their lives. One of his best friends, pulling up with the boys when it comes to ranking his favourite people. Filling gaps he didn’t even know were there, healing fissures he thought had closed. How well you fit in his arms, how well your head fits beneath his chin. How well your lips might fit with his, how well you -

A breath of laughter puffs from his nose, and he rolls his eyes at himself. He’s too old to have a crush, too old to be smiling to himself when he thinks of the girl next door, his best pal. Besides, he has a bad track record with dating friends, anyway.

He checks his watch, stills, listening for the sounds of a restless daughter. Satisfied, he pushes himself up from the orange-bathed haven of the couch with a grunt, pulls open the front door, and skips down the porch steps.

The stubble of the lawn is cool beneath his socks as he jogs across the grass, curving around the picket fence between your properties to pop back up on the other side, striding towards your house.

He takes the steps up your porch two at a time, rapping his knuckles against the sage green of your door. He waits no more than five seconds before he knocks again, earning an irritated alriiiiight from the other side.

The click of a lock, and it swings open to reveal you in shorts, a cap, and a worn cotton t-shirt - sun-warmed, soft, gorgeous.

You grin at the man on your doorstep, and he grins back.

‘Evenin’, teach.’

You click your tongue at the nickname.

‘Way past your bedtime, Morales,’ you tease, ‘You need a warm milk?’

Frankie flicks the back of his hand against the bill of your cap, giggling as it falls to the ground.

You smooth your hair, scrabbling for the hat, scowling at him.

‘Need a warm milk,’ he mocks, and you land a carefully curled fist against his bicep as you stand, deadening his arm. ‘Ow, pendeja,’ he pouts, rubbing at it. ‘You know, wearing a cap indoors still doesn’t make you cool.’

That pretty, playful little scowl flickers over your face again.

‘I just finished my study break, actually.’

‘Oh yeah? What are we studying today? A million ways teenagers make your life hard?’

The scowl is stolen by a bitten back smile, and you wave him off, turning on your heel down the hallway, tugging your cap back on.

‘Whaddya want? Pain in my ass,’ you call, walking away from him and back into your kitchen. He follows, drumming his fingers along your sideboard as he goes.

‘I need a favour, if you have any spare.’

Your kitchen is bathed in the same warm glow as his living room, but instead of quiet, there’s the slow turn and hum of your laundry machine in the closet, the sweet croon of a voice from the record player in the corner. Fruit in a bowl, bottles of gifted wine, pictures of friends, paintings from students. The jungle of houseplants you keep towards the patio doors, the jumble of papers, books, planners, and pens spread around your laptop on the table.

It’s so you. So like home.

You pick up the stem of your wine glass, half full, between your thumb and pointer finger, eyes turned up to the ceiling as you count on your other hand. You wince and suck your teeth, eyes falling back to his.

‘I dunno. ’S not looking good, Fish,’ you say somberly, ‘My favour quota’s already been exceeded this year.’

‘Baby, it’s March.’

You shrug.

‘Been busy.’

He raises an eyebrow at you, and you scoff.

‘Well, I guess I could make an exception for you, big guy.’

He smiles, leaning against the kitchen counter.

‘I need a babysitter.’

You nod, swallowing a mouthful of wine before placing the glass back on its coaster. Papers shift and whisper as you hunt for your phone, buried in the piles of essays.

‘Oh. Sure. I have some numbers -’

‘Actually - I was thinking -’

‘Now that’s dangerous for all of us.’

He points a finger at you, and you bite your lip, humour lighting your eyes.

‘Ha. Anyway. I was thinking - I know… I know you got that big car bill last month. And I know you don’t get paid enough. And you know Lucia loves you…’

You frown at him.

‘You want me to babysit?’

He bites his lip, looking over your table with clearer eyes. You’re busy. Always busy. Overworked and stressed. A heat crawls up his neck, early onset guilt.

Maybe this was a bad idea. He inhales deeply.

‘Yeah. But I’m starting to realise that might be a lot to ask.’

Hm.

He watches as you pull out a chair and sit at the table, studying him.

‘If it makes it any better, you’re my last resort.’

He’s relieved to hear a flutter of a giggle in response, and you clap your hand over your heart.

‘Ouch. There I was, thinking I meant more to you guys than that.’

He crosses his arms, shaking his head, smiling.

‘You know you do, bug.’

You take your cap off, throwing it away from you on the table, rubbing at your forehead.

‘I’ve got a lot of work to do, Frankie,’ you say softly, eyes gentle.

He sighs.

‘I know. You can say no. It’s just - all the numbers I’ve called are kind of booked up, that’s all. And I guess - I wanna leave her with someone I trust. Someone I know. At first, anyway.’

You stare at him still, thinking.

‘What are we talking?’

‘Once or twice a week. Three at the very most. Just for late night flights.’ He pauses. ‘I’ll pay you top dollar.’

You make a disapproving noise.

‘You don’t have to pay me, Frankie.’

‘Of course I do, don’t be ridiculous. It’s on your time. And if it helps you out…’

You frown at him, but he fixes you with a look. No negotiating. You turn your gaze out to your backyard.

He watches, nervous, as you chew your thumb.

Your eyes find his again.

‘Can I take work over? To do round yours?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Do I have to cook?’

‘No. I’ll make sure there’s food. For both of you.’

You nod slowly.

‘And Luc is in bed by…?’

‘Six.’

You nod again.

‘I’m not expecting the whole nine yards,’ he says, shifting. ‘No cookies or playdough, nothing like that. Just someone to look after her. And I’ll still be making calls.’

‘When would you need me?’

Frankie’s mouth twitches.

‘Thursday this week. Tuesday and Friday next week.’

You take another drink of your wine.

‘Can I sleep on it?’

‘Of course, bug.’ He smiles. You return it.

‘Then I’ll sleep on it. I’ll see what the schedule’s like and let you know tomorrow.’

His smile widens.

‘Alright. Thank you. Really.’

You stand from your chair, holding up a palm.

‘I ain’t said yes yet, Morales.’

The smile turns goofy.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

He steps away from the counter and pulls you into his arms. Holds you there for a minute, rocking, enjoying the warmth, the closeness, your smell. Reminds himself that it’s weird to think about your scent as much as he does.

You untangle yourself from him, hands on his biceps where you give a little squeeze.

‘Alright,’ you say, ‘Off you go. See if the kid hasn’t burned the house down yet.’

He chuckles as he retreats, backing down your hallway to the open front door.

‘See you tomorrow, teach.’

‘Get lost, Francisco.’

You sign off by flipping each other the bird as he pulls the door shut behind him, just as you usually do.

And as he steps back into his still-quiet house, he tries to tamp down his grin and his fluttering heart, just as he usually does.

You text him two hours later, when he’s fresh from the shower, clad in only his boxers.

Alright, I slept on it. I’ll be round Thursday.

Along with the swell of relief in his chest, this time the grin and the flutter are much harder to smother.

The night before you left for college, you’d had a nightmare.

You weren’t the type to scare easily; eighteen years old and free from any of the real worries the world could bring. And you were so fucking excited for this next adventure, so ready to begin the rest of your life. Still, you’d found yourself doing something you hadn't done since you were a child.

You’d knocked first - softly, so softly. Waited for a come in that never came. Your dad had stirred anyway as you closed the door quietly behind you, turning, half asleep, to see you stood twisting your fingers in the middle of the carpet.

‘Y’alright, sweetheart?’ he’d asked, all gravelly and tender, threatening tears to spill over your lashline.

‘Yeah,’ you’d mumbled, ‘Just had a nightmare.’

He’d simply lifted the covers on the other side of the bed, and you’d slipped into their warmth, scooching into his side, breathing in his smell. He’d cradled you in his arms like you were still a kid - afraid, vulnerable - and you’d let him. Let the tears soak into his shirt. Felt his grip tighten on you, the kiss he pressed to the top of your head. The promise within it, within the cool moonlight bleeding through the curtains.

If you don’t wanna do it, all you gotta do is say.

He’d known you didn’t need to hear it, knew it was all you’d worked for, dreamed of. So instead, he’d murmured something else.

‘I’m so proud of you.’

You’d nodded into his chest, and he’d waited until the tears stopped falling before he asked if you wanted to talk about it. You hadn’t at first. But he’d always promised that talking about a dream broke it.

‘I dreamt you weren’t here.’

The vision had hung in the room for a moment, lapping against your dad’s quiet breathing.

‘I am. I’m right here, sweetheart.’

You’d nodded again, that deep, swooping panic of being completely alone in the world threatening to claw through your chest and sweep away his comfort. You couldn’t say anything else. Nothing about the empty house you’d seen, the dust sheets covering lonely chairs.

‘Always gonna be here. Can’t get rid of me.’

You’d both known he was wrong. That one day, this night would be a memory. That one day, you’d try to remember what it felt like to be held like this, known like this, try to remember the scent of his sleepshirt, and not be able to. But that would be years - decades - away. Tomorrow you start the beginning of your real, grownup life. Tomorrow, he’ll drive you across the state. He’ll haul your boxes up to your dorm room, and he’ll sit on your bed and look around and smile at you. The smile will be small, full of love, pride, grief. The grief of letting his little girl go, of looking at you and seeing you at all ages at once. Newborn, tiny in his big hands. On his shoulders, laughing at the sky. Nervous on your first day at school. Shy at the gate of highschool. Flying through the years, surrounded by friends, now landing here.

And when he stands to leave, to tear himself away, the tears will fall again. You’ll say you’re not sure, your whole world rocking, tilting. And he’ll tell you that you might not be, but he is. You’re gonna be great. You’ll be amazing. And his most favourite line of all.

A ship in a harbour is safe. But that’s not what ships were built for.

And you’ll laugh, and you’ll hug him, and you’ll wish you could for a little longer. But you’ll walk him downstairs all the same, out to his car. You’ll shield your eyes and wave until his license plate disappears, and then you’ll cry in the sun until you have a headache. By the time you’re out with your roommate that evening, you’ll feel better.

You won’t think about whether he cried on the way home, whether his body shook with sobs. Whether he’s sat in front of the TV now, unable to focus on the movie that’s playing because the house is too damn quiet. Won’t think about how, when he tries to sleep, he can still feel that little girl curled up into his side. How he contemplates his own mortality, hopes it won’t come for him for decades, hopes he’ll see you graduate, meet someone, be happy, achieve all you want to.

For now, there is only the blue moonlight, the deep breathing, the warm arms.

And four years later, your nightmare will come true.

You’re awake, though barely. Faintly aware of the wet on your cheeks, of the ache deep in your chest. The memory, the dream. You try to burrow your face into him, try to breathe in his scent, recall the way he talks. And as the same moonlight from the dream floods your vision, you remember.

Four years later, and the hurt is still as raw.

You curl into yourself, folding your arms around your body, holding it in, holding it together. Breathe through it - in through the nose, out through the mouth. I love you. I love you. Your voice and your father’s blending together. You try not to let it overwhelm you. Try not to recall all the moments, all the last moments. The hospitals, the treatments, how he wasted away before you, how you could do nothing about it. But it’s hard. So hard, alone, in the middle of the night like this.

When the burn in your throat eases, you reach for your phone. 3:32am. You unlock it out of habit, texts still open. The conversation you’d had with Frankie earlier - times, dates, what he’d make you for dinner.

You wish they could have met each other.

You’re sure Frankie would have loved him. Would have loved his laugh, would have shot the shit about baseball, would have clapped him on the back and joined him for beers on the porch like he does with you. And you’re sure your dad would have loved Frankie. Would have seen his kindness, his patience, his humour. A good man, just like he was.

Sometimes, when the younger man leaves your kitchen, your dad appears, sat at the table across from you.

‘You like him.’ He says.

‘Come off it, dad,’ like you don’t both know you’re lying. He gives that knowing little shrug.

‘Whatever, kid,’ he says, ‘I see the way you look at him. Like you looked at - who was it - Jordan, in seventh grade?’ You always throw something at him then. A marker, a highlighter. And he always laughs at you.

You click your phone screen off, bathed in half-darkness once again. Stare at the frozen ceiling fan, the divots and shadows on the ceiling. Tired, but too awake to sleep.

You grumble as you swing your legs out from the covers, standing from the bed. Pad downstairs in the dark, flick on the kitchen light, fill the kettle and set it to boil. Through the window, across the way, Frankie’s kitchen light is also on. Your brow furrows - this isn’t a time either of you should be awake - but then he appears in the window, shirtless, busying himself with something by the sink, and you quickly avert your eyes. Something you’ve gotten good at doing since you moved here.

Good at desperately trying not to notice his soft curls, the way his biceps stretch his t-shirts, the way his shoulders fill doorways, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. The way he says your name, the golden skin you’ve glimpsed, the noises he might make -

You roll your eyes at yourself. Crashing out of an engagement, skipping town and developing a crush on the DILF next door is so… you.

Annie would have gotten a kick out of it, that’s for sure.

The kettle finishes its boil, and you reach for a mug, a tea bag. Watch the tendrils of steam curl from the clutch of the ceramic as you brace your hands on the marble either side of it. You chew the inside of your cheek, head hanging between your shoulders, startling when your phone buzzes, furious-sounding as it crawls across the countertop.

You know who it is before you see the caller ID.

‘Hey, neighbour.’

‘Hey, bug.’

You smile into the receiver, holding the mobile to your ear as you move to the sink, adding cold water to the tea. You look up through the window to find Frankie also stood before his, looking back at you. Mercifully, he’s found a shirt, but his bed head still has your stomach turning in cartwheels.

‘What’s up?’

‘Saw your light on. Wanted to check you’re okay.’

You hold up your mug, cheersing him through the glass.

‘I’m good. Just having a little drink.’

You watch as he cocks his hip against the counter.

‘Yeah? What kinda drink you got?’

You exhale through your nose, rolling your eyes.

‘Chamomile.’

There’s a beat, and then his voice is soft, tender.

‘Y’had a nightmare, too?’

You shake your head.

‘Not a nightmare, just a dream.’

‘Dad?’

You nod, sipping.

‘Yeah. You know how it is. Lucia okay?’

You watch him flick his gaze to the hallway, the stairs beyond your line of sight. Hear the scratch of his whiskers as he rubs at his beard.

‘She’s alright. Nothing a warm milk and her night light can’t fix.’

You smile at him.

‘You remind me of him, you know.’

Frankie pauses his scratching, peering out at you, surprised.

‘You’re a good dad. The best. He was, too.’

Your voice is low, affectionate. Something pulls deep in his gut, something that forces a tight bubble up his throat. He swallows a couple of times, closing his eyes to the kindness.

‘Thank you, bug.’

‘I mean it.’

He nods, voice crackly and deep when it comes to you.

‘I know.’

You watch each other a moment longer, separate rooms, separate houses, such closeness bridging those gaps. Frankie breaks the quiet.

‘You sure you’re okay?’

You smile, nod, sip.

‘I’m sure. Should head back to bed, anyway.’

Frankie hums down the line, thoughtful. A breath whistles through his nose.

‘G’night, bug.’

‘Good night, Fish.’

You wait for the beep of the disconnected line, Frankie’s wave through the window. The hard lump in your throat as you watch him retreat to the doorway of his kitchen, the darkness that stares back at you, the ache of being alone again on this moon of grief.

And something quieter, more selfish. Creeping and tidal that laps at the edges, a want for a man you have convinced yourself you cannot have. A sadness that buzzes deep in your skin, curls back layers of your being, tells you that you cannot afford to be broken again. Not like your dad. Not like Annie.

But you like him, your dad says. What’s so wrong with that?

You cocoon yourself tightly in your duvet, your back to the moonlight, the reminders. Tired eyes blinking at the door. Waiting. Waiting, in a different life, different house, different state, for eighteen year old you to tiptoe in and tell you about her nightmare.

Waiting for you to tell her that her dad is right there.

That she should hold him a little longer before he drives home tomorrow.

#frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

447 notes · View notes

diamondzart · 1 month

Text

I know Toy Story 4 is not really loved by the masses, but I can’t help admitting that I’m that person who loves it just as much as the trilogy. I was really excited about it back in 2019 and even had a little bit of hyperfixation on it. I really adore the concept of lost toys who live on their own. As much as Woody’s choice in the end was unexpected, I think it opened big possibilities for post-canon ideas. Like this one! I decided to design his possible appearance after a couple of years of living outside with Bo. Description under the cut!

I noticed what was missing from those few fanarts on events after the end of Toy Story 4 that I found on the internet. Bo Peep is all so cool and fancy with her hook, raincoat and all sorts of useful thingies that she carries with her, and Woody is just clean and unscathed, as if he just yesterday got out of a dry and warm room. Naaah he wouldn’t stay like this for long 😆

Because what is lost toy’s life? Dirt, unforeseen damage and the need to periodically fight off stray animals. Moreover, we already know that Woody has a tendency to get into troubles. Moreover, he is a rag doll — that is, more than Bo is vulnerable to problems like unstable humidity, getting stuck somewhere with his limbs and getting attacked by cats / dogs / raccoons / whatever else they can encounter. He should become as hardcore as Bo after a couple of years, because otherwise there is no way to survive in this world.

The “raincoat” is of nylon, most likely cut out parts of an umbrella that someone conveniently lost in the park during stormy weather. The trick is that it’s waterproof, since when you are made out of natural fabric, it's important not to get wet as much as possible. Moreover, Woody is quite old, and he should be concerned about the condition of his fabric if he does not want to literally fall apart after a couple of years of such adventures.

The holster is used as a pocket for small things, here it’s used for matches and paper clips, which can be useful in different situations. For matches, a striking surface from a matchbox is attached to the outer side of the right boot. This will allow to quickly light a match by yanking a foot down while holding match to it and thus minimize extra full-body movements, which can be useful in an emergency situation. I think that this can be effective not only for lighting up spaces, but also for scaring away animals, especially small ones like rats.

The hook is a pencil and a fishhook with a broken tip, strapped with duct tape. Basically an analogue of Bo’s hook but made from improvised materials. As we have already seen in her example, it is an excellent utility for crossing various obstacles and, if necessary, for self-defense.

Stitches and scuffs. Both Bo Peep's arms were broken off and are taped back. That means, free living involves the regular risk of losing limbs. Even in an antique store, Woody got his foot stuck somewhere several times, which suggests that either himself or with the help of some stray animal he lost one or another limb and had to sew it back on his own or with Bo’s assistance. He will have to overcome his fear of being broken and accept this as a new part of his existence.

These were general notes on this sketch! Perhaps I will continue to develop this idea in order to find some new interesting solutions.

#yeah my old fixation decided to resurface like THREE DAYS before D23 #idk what will be with Toy Story 5 and I know people are skeptical about it #BUT I am quite positive #probably because I liked TS4…#please don’t write criticisms on TS4 under this post I’ve already seen it all #you won’t provide me any new info you will just upset me #so pleasssseeeeee just enjoy the fanart if you like it eheh #toy story #toy story 4 #toy story fanart #woody pride #woody toy story #fanart #digital sketch #artists on tumblr #my art #character design #fan concept

247 notes · View notes

notjustjavierpena · 7 months

Note

drabble idea - javi and reader at some family/friends party before the kids, maybe engaged already and reader is holding a cousins baby or something. Javi isn’t with her and when he enters the room he’s awestruck. He already knew he wanted kids with her and a family but just seeing her bouncing the baby while laughing at something someone is saying just completely takes his breath away.

Baby (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is so incredibly adorable, and of course, I will make this come true for you, Anon. I hope you enjoy 💖🫶

Summary: Javier spots you at a party with a baby in your arms. Suddenly, he knows what he wants.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Tooth-rotting fluff, baby fever, lovelovelove.

Word count: 1k

Baby

Amidst the lively chatter of a family gathering, Javier looks for you in the living room after having had a beer with his father outside on the terrace.

He passes by several tías who pinch his cheeks and compliment his choice of shirt to which he gives you the credit. They call him handsome, and he charms them back as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“No wonder you ended up with such a catch, Javi,” one of them says, referring to you. She nods in your direction but he still cannot see you for all the people having gathered in the tiny house, can’t hear your voice either in between bursts of laughter and screen doors opening and closing.

He starts to make his way in your direction, craving your gentle touch when he starts to feel overwhelmed by these kinds of things. On his way, he ruffles the hair of one of his nephews who shows him a stack of colorful football cards.

“Very cool,” he says genuinely as he looks over the boy’s shoulder. He hasn’t been home in so long that he isn’t up to date with the local team anymore, otherwise he would have mentioned that.

“I’m only missing a few of my favorite team,” his nephew replies excitedly and it earns him another hair ruffle. Javier continues through the crowd afterward.

There you are, he thinks to himself, and just when he is about to approach you, all the wind is knocked out of him because you are in the middle of a conversation, laughing at something that is being said, and you have Sofía, his cousin’s daughter, on your hip.

He stops in his tracks, freezing to the spot to watch you. At that moment, he knows that he wants to build a family with you. It becomes so clear as he observes you naturally talk to the baby on your arm, smiling widely down at her only to giggle when you receive a grin right back. He catches a glimpse of the future and the incredible mother you could be and on top of that, the incredible mother that he wants to make you.

It isn’t that he has never had the thought of starting a family with you before but seeing you navigate having a child in your arms so effortlessly makes him grasp how real and possible it is that it’ll one day be his child you are holding.

A few children run past him, shouting loudly as they chase each other and the noise pulls him out of his trance. All the other grownups have faded into the background, and it seems that his brain can only think of kids, bedtime stories, coloring books, and parent-teacher conferences. His head swims.

Even more so when the noise also makes you look up and catch his eye. You smile at him and it tugs at something in his chest. He needs to be close to you, taking longer steps than normal to get to you quicker.

“Hello fiancée,” he says when he approaches and kisses you softly. You say hello back but seem busy staring down at the baby in your arms. He turns his attention to the little bundle of joy, reaching out to twist the soft hairs on top of her head until it is standing up in a spiral, “Y hola a tí, Sofía, ¿Cómo estás? (And hello to you, Sofía. How are you?)”

Sofía gurgles at getting further attention. She swings her little fists.

“Your cousin just asked me if I could take her for a moment,” you explain with a shy smile, bouncing Sofía on your hip. She smiles widely up at you, squealing with delight as you make a face at her, “And you are so cute, aren’t you? Oh, look at her little tuft of hair.”

Javier adores you. He watches Sofía reach out for your earring, trying to yank on it and you grab her little hand but never once look irritated. Instead, you let her hold onto your fingers instead and say something gentle again.

“We should make one,” he announces quietly so only you can hear it, leaning closer to you to keep the conversation private. You look up immediately but still tickle at Sofía’s tiny palm.

“A baby?” You ask with wide eyes. It’s a little louder than you intended, and a few heads turn to look at you. You lower your voice, clearing your throat at first, “A baby?”

“Sí, mi amor (yes, my love),” he snakes an arm around your back to rest his hand on your hip, “A dozen of them actually.”

“We’re getting married next year,” you tut, shaking your head as if he is being ridiculous, “I’m not looking like someone who swallowed a soccer ball in my wedding dress.”

“You could wear an old football jersey and I would still marry you,” he kisses the side of your head, “¿Pero qué no (but why not)?”

“One thing at a time,” you say with a nervous chuckle. Then you shift Sofía in your arms, “Can you take her? I am so damn thirsty.”

“Sure, bring her here,” he holds out his arms, “C’mere, Princesa (princess).”

The transfer is so smooth that one would think you have done it before. He gets a tiny hand in his face, Sofía feeling his cheek.

“Be right back,” you say with a sweet smile, “Both of you.”

One thing at a time, you said. However, with the way you turn back to watch him with Sofía in his arms as you head for the drinks table, he knows that this is what you want too.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

525 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

I haven’t seen anyone write ghost!reader helping the BAU solve her own case…like knocking things over to get their attention or play eerie songs to give hints😭

THIS IS SUCH A COOL IDEA??

For FBI specialists, these guys suck. They've spent 20 minutes looking through your bedroom, and not once have they gone through the shoes in your closet, where one is tucked carefully away with a blood-stained heel. You'd driven it into your killer's eye just before he'd stuck his own weapon into your stomach, and you'd watched him put it neatly away in its place as you bled out.

"Y'know, I think we are looking at victims of opportunity," A tall, lanky one muses, hair in messy waves down to his shoulders as his slender hands hold your journal that you're not too happy he's reading. "There's nothing in here that indicates any sort of high-risk lifestyle, or anything that connects Y/N to the other victims. I think she just had her window open, and that was enough."

"I think you're right, Reid. This doesn't exactly look 'high-risk' to me." Another speaks, the dark tone of his skin a stark contrast against the white button-up he's holding out from your closet.

"But there's still something missing," Reid hums, peering confusedly around the room, "I mean, the other victims lived miles away. So if these really are opportunity kills, this guy's driving across the country and perusing neighborhoods to kill? That's not very probable."

"No. There's something else," The bigger one agrees, kneeling by the stain of your blood against the carpet. You watch on from the corner of the room, waiting for him to tuck his fingers just beneath the edge of the bed and withdraw the token that had fallen there when your killer had flailed about in the loss of his eye.

He doesn't.

You groan with frustration, but neither of them hear it. You're tired of waiting, tired of watching, tired of hoping they crack the case. You lunge for the bed, sending a breeze against the bottom of the comforter and rippling it so that the coin is visible for a split second.

The bulky agent's eyes widen slightly at the unexplainable draft, his thick brows dipping in concern. But he's seen the shiny coin, and he lets out a tsk as he examines it.

"Morgan? What's wrong?" Reid glances over at him, "Is that-?"

"A train token," Morgan drawls, "'Guess we know how this guy's getting around."

"Where did you find that?"

"It was under the bed." Morgan recalls, "It was... weird. There was this little breeze, like- like someone moved the comforter. That's the only reason I saw it. Would've missed it otherwise."

Reid's eyebrows arch curiously, then a smirk slides over his lips, "Maybe it was a ghost."

"There's no such thing as ghosts, pretty boy." Morgan scoffs, standing up straight with the token in hand, "Let's go, we've gotta deliver the profile- ah!"

Before they can walk out the door, you grab the shoe from your closet, flinging it at Morgan's ankle in retaliation for his rather rude comment. He jumps nearly a foot in the air, looking down at your bloody heel in terror.

"That just- that just hit me! It flew out of the closet, and- no, man, I'm not doing this. Fuck- fuck this, I'm going back to the car."

"It's bloody," Reid crouches to examine the shoe, warily glancing at the closet it had flown from, "Go ahead, Morgan, I'll just be a second."

"That is why white people die in horror movies," Morgan spits, already beelining for the front door, "I don't fuck with ghosts!"

When he's gone, Reid is silent. He snaps pictures of the heel, only touching the mess after it's been sufficiently recorded. There's some obscene mush that rubs off onto his finger and he grimaces, inspecting the remains.

"It's an eye," He murmurs to himself, but you hear it from where you're crouched right beside him. He has a pretty face, Morgan wasn't lying. He peers curiously once more at the closet, and you slide yourself into his line of vision as if he can see you. It's refreshing to have someone look at you again, even if they don't know they are.

Reid stands, taking your heel with him. He digs a plastic bag out of his pocket and slides the heel inside, gloves stained the same unsettling color. He starts for the door, finished with his investigation, but he lingers just before he can exit your bedroom. You're standing just behind him, intent on walking the man out and watching him drive away.

He turns back, gaze aimed towards the closet that's no longer occupied by your supernatural throwing arm.

"Thank you," He speaks, "I believe you're real. And I hope this- uh, finishes your business here. I hope you get to rest soon."

2K notes · View notes

harkonnen-darkness · 3 months

Text

【 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞! 】

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen X f! Reader

┄ Words: ca. 6.000

┄ OneShot to Love Bites

┄ This OS is connected to 𝕸𝖚𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖘𝖙

Warnings: dark Feyd - has a soft spot for you, he has several feelings for his Na-Baroness, he killed Readers rapist, blood & gore, deep talking (for Feyd it's already too much lol), bloody biting, smut sexual touching -> oral (female receving), genital friction, fingering - 18+

Thank you for chosing the title.

And thanks to a beta-reader. <3

only Feyd's pov

She bounced against my chest as I was about to enter her chambers. ❝Where are you going?❞, I asked her as she looked up with wide eyes. She seemed momentarily overwhelmed, took a small step back and stammered, startled, ❝I w-wanted to look for you. You've been gone for so long.❞ Grinning mischievously, I tilted my head. Oh, did Lady Skiras missed me? ❝Have you been… busy with him until now?❞, her voice rang out again as I walked into her chambers, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her behind me. A few candles lit the room in a soft, warm light. I found it almost ridiculous that a proud warrior like her had such a side in her. But if that was what she wanted, it was okay with me. I was happy to use any means to make her feel comfortable here on Giedi Prime. Otherwise, the rooms were completely dark, the night deep black. The pleasant scent of her shower gel also caught my nose. It was crazy how used to it I had become. Even crazier how much I liked it. I thought about taking a bath with her tomorrow or swimming in the thermal. As long as my uncle was still away, I could spend a lot more time with my queen.

The large balcony doors were slightly open, the air pleasantly cool compared to the day, but still too warm for my liking. As soon as all the rain had disappeared a few days ago, a sultry heat prevailed on the gloomy planet. Thunderstorms were passing across the sky from time to time, but the air was only slightly cooler as a result. I pushed [y/n] onto the edge of the bed, bent down to her, between her knees. She looked at me silently, as I looked at her. I actually wanted to hear words from her, a 'thank you' at best, but I knew that I had completely overwhelmed her with my actions today. Nevertheless, I hoped that she would love and adore me even more for it than she already did. Her pretty fingers layed on my heated skin, her eyes resting searchingly on my body. ❝It's only his blood. None of it is mine.❞, I explained. Should I be offended now? Or did she just mean well? She nodded understandingly, still silent. I laughed softly, put a bloody hand on her cheek and watched her lean against it for a moment. She seemed to feel safe in my presence. Good. Tears gathered in her tired eyes, sparkling like diamonds, before they ran down her cheeks, thick as blood. Quickly, one of her hands jerked up and wiped the water away. ❝Apologize, Feyd.❞ I shook my head. She was allowed to cry today. In fact, I hoped they were tears of relief. Why else would she be crying?

I would have loved to read her thoughts now. She was probably wondering, and rightly so, what I had done to her tormentor. This afternoon, I had allowed her to take a look in the dark dungeon, after I had defeated him in the arena. A few days ago, I had spontaneously decided to kill him. In full public view. If my uncle asked, I would lie. Another no-good Atreides. And not a follower of the Harkonnens… actually. The beautiful female before me had never told me his name, and yet it had been easy for my middleman to figure out which man was behind it. Who had touched her in a gruesome way. I was disgusted that I had once spoken to him. That I had exchanged words with him and thus unknowingly wasted my time. So disgusting! But how wonderful - [y/n] had wanted to look for me. She probably couldn't fall asleep without me. I wouldn't allow her to wander the halls alone so late at night anyway, no. Even though I knew she could fight back, I was afraid for her. Nobody should harm her. Nobody! I leaned my forehead against her upper body, enjoying her gentle touch. The old me would have mocked me for it. For letting a woman who wasn't one of my whores get so close to me. Closer than the three pets, much closer. But I was pining for her, just as she was pining for me. I idolized her, just as she idolized me. And somewhere along the line, I also hated her deeply. For the fact that she could trigger exactly these feelings and emotions in me. Every day anew. I wanted her to touch me the way she did now. I wanted her to snuggle up to me and fall asleep on my chest, when I layed next to her - which wasn't every night.

Dreamy as I was, my hands stroked her bare legs, under the long black, asymmetrical skirt. Her skin was so pleasantly warm. Her slim fingers had not left my skin either and a purr escaped my throat as she stroked my shoulder muscles with circular movements. There was a pleasant silence in the room, nothing could be heard. It was almost unusual for me after all the screams from her tormentor. I really hoped that her nightmares would come to an end now too. Somewhere I understood and always tried to calm her down, but on the other hand it got on my nerves to have to wake her from her nightmares at night or to be woken up by her sobbing. She shouldn't waste another thought on him! From now on, she would forget him more and more every day. My act today, my gift to her, had to be proof enough that she was important to me and that I had feelings for her. I continued to stroke her legs gently, a stark contrast to the other things I had done with my bare hands today. Another grin crept uncontrollably onto my lips and I kissed the thin, even slightly transparent fabric of her top. I smelled the scent of lavender again, this time on her skin. I rested my head on her thighs, closed my eyes for a moment and continued to allow her lovely touches. Allowed myself to enjoy them. I was powerful, but not enough to detach myself from this female. If she died or disappeared, I would probably lose my mind completely. I would slaughter absolutely everyone. If she would ever try to escape, I would take her back. What was once my property remained mine! Unless I gave it up voluntarily. But I would never give her to anyone else! Why should I?

I didn't realize that I was in a trance at that moment. That her aura completely possessed and captivated me. My eyes remained on her pretty legs, looking at the blood on them that my fingers were spreading. As if it was doing something to me, triggering something deep inside me. I remembered when we had been completely covered in blood, intimate. The sheets and pillows stained red like batik. What a beautiful memory. Growling, I exhaled and slowly looked up at her, gazing deep into her pretty eyes. Her lips were slightly parted and I knew she wanted to say something, but couldn't get a sound out. I got caught up in the reflective sparkling light of the candles. She swallowed nervously. How beautiful.

What was she thinking? I would have loved to split her skull open and read her thoughts. Through the dancing candlelight, I saw something flash in the corner of my eye on the bedside table and turned my head in that direction. Ah, it was the tooth she had removed. Blood still clung to the small bone. With slow movements, I reached into my trouser pocket and pulled out another one. ❝You only took one.❞, I said. My voice even rougher than usual, very quiet. ❝Two are better.❞, I added and placed it next to the other one. She only nodded in agreement, nothing else. She was still too overwhelmed by all the emotions that had erupted in her today, because of me. I loved to overwhelm her. Emotionally as well as physically. I knew she'd been racking her brain all day about how I'd found out. How he had gotten to Giedi Prime. Would I tell her? No, very probably not. Maybe one day. But definitely not today, not now! This morning I had almost left my Chambers in a hurry because I knew that I would finally be able to get rid of him. Once again, I nestled my head against her torso, purring relaxedly as I felt so comfortable in her presence. I knew that I could let myself go with her. She was my haven of peace. When I was too stressed or angry, I liked to seek her out to calm down again. I liked to let myself fall onto her upper body, listen to her heartbeat and let her stroke me like she was doing now. My good-for-nothing uncle had accepted my decision to have her as a (Na-)Baroness. Smart for me, bad for him. No one would ever have thought that I would find my fiancée more than just physically attractive. Just as little as I did at the beginning. I had quickly found her interesting, but it had taken me longer to really admit it to myself.

❝Thank you, Feyd.❞, her voice rang out softly in the darkness. Ah, there it was. I raised my head slightly, but didn't look at her. Instead, I pressed a gentle kiss to the exposed skin between her breasts. My hands slid up her waist, stroking it a few times. Her fingers stroked the back of my neck and I purred once more. I loved it when she did that. Especially at certain moments. My lips wandered over the gauzy fabric over her breasts, feeling her nipples underneath. I licked over the fabric and bit, a little more gently, into the soft flesh. She moaned quietly and her fingers gripped the back of my neck. I pressed her upper body onto the mattress and pushed her thighs further apart. I licked over the blood on her skin, my blackened teeth sinking deep into the equally soft flesh, letting her red liquid, which tasted so much better, melt on my tongue. Her muscle twitched a little, but I didn't care. When she wanted to stay mine, she had to live with it!

I bit her arm several times, her shoulder, her neck and jawline. Marked her as mine. Just as it should be. ❝Say that you're mine!❞, I growled into her ear. It wasn't just a request, she had no other choice. And she knew that. My hands reached under her back to better position her on the bed. ❝I'm yours, my Baron.❞, she whispered as her head sank onto the thick pillows. I didn't loosen my tight grip on her, leaning my forehead against hers and smiling darkly. After today, I needed reassurance. The man I had killed today had touched her before me. I didn't just hate him for that. I had, literally, torn him apart and yet my anger hadn't gone away. Inside, I felt like I was going to burst with rage. But the pretty girl underneath me would calm me down, I knew that. ❝Again.❞, I murmured against her lips. She giggled, which made me smile too. She stroked my hard chest, over the dried blood and traced the lines of my muscles, but remained silent at first. ❝Are you mine, Feyd?❞ She smiled softly, but I could hear pain in her voice. I felt an uncomfortable weakness inside me. Unpleasant because I couldn't do anything about it. A weakness for her.

Lost in thought, feeling her tickling fingertips, I forgot to answer. Only her startled look snapped me back to reality. ❝Yes, I am.❞, I whispered and stroked her lower lip with my thumb, giving in to my feelings for her. It was no use fighting it (now). It only made my otherwise cold heart ache. I wanted to win her over every time. I needed her. Today I didn't even wait for her answer and kissed her full of desire. I knew her answer either way. She was mine, even after death she would be! I undid the side lacing of her skirt and pulled it off her legs. Her thin top followed suit.

❝You don't always have to do this, Feyd.❞, she moaned breathlessly, as I kissed my way down her body. A guilty conscience plagued her, as she couldn't give me everything yet because of her rapist. But I knew that would change. I was a big part of this process myself and wanted to give her the time she needed. One night or day, I would feel all of her on me. ❝Shut the fuck up!❞, I growled and pushed her down again. With quick finger grips, I removed the simple underwear from her body, biting into her breasts again, her skin down between her legs. I would never miss out on the nectar and her sweet moans. She deserved it. And when I was to be the one to pleasure her in this way, all the better! I pressed my fingers against the fresh bite mark on her thigh, to remind her again who she belonged to. I ran my tongue over the heated flower-rose and heard her shakily inhale. I loved having pure control over her body and emotions. Slowly and carefully, I penetrated her with my tongue, paying attention to any warning signals from her body. But her muscles didn't tense up, her body let me have my way. Her fingers clawed into the sheets and moaned hoarsely. Today I wanted to give her as much as possible. I had spent almost the whole day cruelly torturing this man. I did everything to him that I could think of on the spur of the moment. Until just a few minutes ago, the life had drained out of his body. Now it was time to take care of my beloved and give her what she deserved - apart from me. Her shy moans echoed through the dark room. The candlelight brightened her body, the pearls of sweat on her skin looked like glitter.

The sight would make me come without having touched her, if I didn't take my eyes off her now. Only her twitching muscles around my tongue distracted me and I tightened one grip around her hip, the other hand further, just as hard, on her thigh. I pressed my tongue against her pearl as her body tensed and twitched, one of her hands wrapped around my neck and her fingernails briefly scratched hard across my skin. She didn't even seem to notice. I only gave her a few seconds to calm down, biting and sucking the skin of her thighs between my lips and teeth. A few bruises and purple marks should decorate her body like jewelry, because I wanted it that way! I licked once more over the beads of blood from the bite wound, before quickly turning to her neck to bite her hard there. But suddenly she jumped up and without releasing me from her, I felt her teeth in my shoulder. Blood immediately flowed from the wound, dripping down onto her skin. I growled deeply, not taking my teeth off her. But neither did she. I felt her tongue stroking my skin as I placed my hand on her upper body and pressed her back into the mattress with ease. Her bloody lips grinned cheekily at me and I couldn't help but kiss her. She was so cute and shy, and also so deliciously wicked and full of (bloody) action. I had seen her kill a few times. And I liked it far too much.

As soon as her hands opened my pants, I quickly changed position and pulled her onto my lap. I covered her neck with gentle kisses and slowly stroked up and down her back with both hands. ❝Are you okay?❞, I asked her to make sure. A lot could happen every day, but she certainly wouldn't have expected that. I continued to spread kisses over her sensitive skin, while I waited for her answer. Too long for my taste. I detached myself from her skin and gazed earnestly deep into her eyes. I didn't know how to interpret her silence. ❝It… it's been a bit much today.❞, she replied, no louder than a breath. I nodded understanding, stroking her cheek with the back of my hand. His blood now dry. My eyes didn't leave hers, searching for emotions in what she was feeling now. But I couldn't find an answer in them.

I searched for truths and lies at the same time. I stroked her bloody lips, whispering against them that she was mine. And that there was nothing she could do about it. To my surprise, she smiled, kissed my bloody hand, then my lips. She placed her body firmly on mine, making me groan. However, I had to push her back a little, reaching into my pants, to press my member against her wet labia. A pleasant sigh escaped us and I rested my head on her shoulder, wanting to relax for a moment. Knowing that only I would touch her like this. I pressed one hand under her butt, lifting her body with ease so that my dick slid over her labia. I slowly lifted and lowered her again, my tip stroking her pearl with light pressure. I spread kisses over her cleavage, my blood sticking on her skin here and there, which didn't bother me in the slightest. Her soft moans reached my ears as I licked over the bloody love bite. One hand layed on my chest, the other fell loosely over my shoulder. I kept up the slow pace, as I had sometimes noticed that it stimulated her body more. A soft thunder suddenly sounded over Giedi Prime, but no rain could be heard. I stroked her back with my other hand and pressed her harder against me. Her upper body touched mine, her arm wrapped tightly around my neck and her head continued to rest on my shoulder. I could feel her rapid heartbeat against my chest and it only aroused me even more. By now it hurt as much as her teeth had, when she had just bitten me hard. But I didn't see it as suffering - on the contrary. For me, it was just another sign of how much I wanted her. Before her, I had only found my pets attractive, no other females.

❝Strong heart, Feyd-Rautha.❞, her voice rang out hoarsely, which made me grin. What were once serious words from me, had turned into teasing between us. Little did I know that my heart was vibrating through her whole body. My hand pressed her even tighter against me, which made her moan. So hard that it hurt me too, but it was worth every second. ❝It's yours.❞, I rumbled against her ear and bit into it. Her wet pussy were almost unbearable, but I forced myself not to come yet. She was close, but not close enough. ❝Down.❞, I growled, my hand remaining firmly on her lower back as I placed her on the bed, her head propped up on the thick pillows. My blood was dripping onto her skin again, but I didn't really care. Her skin looked so beautiful with the red decoration on it. A flash of lightning lit up the room for a split second, followed by another thunder. Her legs automatically wrapped around my hips to make it easier for me to touch her flower-rose. Nevertheless, I supported her with one hand on her tailbone, my other arm resting next to her head. I looked at her breasts as I moved, watching my blood on them as I felt her lips on my forearm. She kissed my veins, which were clearly protruding due to the high outside temperature. Again, I had to take my eyes off the spectacle, otherwise I would have come. I loved how much she wanted me. But the pain inside me only got worse as her tongue slid over the bluish lines. I had to admit to myself that she was in control of me tonight, not me of her.

I bit, almost desperate, into the wound of her neck again, making her bleed further. My dick slid firmly over her labia, the wetness could be heard, her swollen pearl irritated my tip to death. ❝Fuck! You fucking devil!❞, I growled as she nibbled at my veins. She suddenly bit hard to suppress her moans, as I felt her twitching muscles, giving me the rest and pour down on her labia. Completely out of breath, I remained in my rigidity, did not move. Her legs were still wrapped around my waist. Pearls of sweat ran down my ribcage, mixed with the blood, barely able to stand the heat in my body. At that moment, I was hoping the storm would bring rain. Otherwise, the beautiful female beneath me would be my death. I could still feel her hot breath on my arm, as she hadn’t resolved her bite either. I raised my head a little, looked at her body, seeing the pretty little pearls of sweat everywhere, sparkling in the faint candlelight. In that moment, I realized that my orgasm hadn’t been a bit of a redemptive one for me. The pain returned, my dick slowly trembled again. Thus, within a few seconds, it began to rain heavily. But the thunderstorm did not end, as another low thunder sounded the night. Her teeth loosened and I heard her giggling softly. I looked at her asking questions. ❝Reminds me of your purring.❞ I didn't want to trust my ears, growled in her ear that she shouldn't play games with me. But in response, she gently kissed my neck and my bloody shoulder. That's it, there was no turning back. Deeply resentful, I pressed a hand against her lower back again to raise her a little more. And an instinct in me told me, it wouldn't just be a second round this night.

The sudden feeling of emptiness woke me up. She was just lifting her upper body, as I quickly wrapped my arm around her and pushed her down again. ❝Stay!❞, I growled and pressed her firmly back to me. I hated it when she stood up before me. ❝You should have got up a long time ago, Feyd.❞, she told me with worried eyes. I turned on my back and shook my head. ❝He’s not here. And no one else cares if I’m somewhere later than anyone else.❞, I explained to her, my grip around her did not loosen. ❝They know I’m with you anyway.❞, I grinned at her, making her cheeks blush a little. Voluntarily, she dropped onto my upper body, her breasts were pleasantly cool on my skin for a moment. Automatically, my hand was on her back, driving back up and down. The thick curtains let in enough light to see that almost all the stains on her back had faded. In the last few days, we had not had enough time to get really intimate with each other. I didn't really want quickies with her, rather I let my tongue do quick work and I touched myself. My uncle couldn't take that from me. But for real intimacy, I always wanted to have time for her and her body. She layed still on me, breathing slowly in and out. Completely relaxed. I took the opportunity and bit into her back. Not so hard that she bled, but hard enough that the tooth prints would be visible for a while. Again and again I sucked her skin between my lips and teeth to refresh the pretty bruises. Maybe a stupid game, but very important to me. As one leg was angled from her, I discovered the now visible spots on her thighs. My bite wound was clear and easy to see. I let my hand slide down her back, over her butt, and further down to the bite wound to take a closer look. I noticed heat emanating from her female zone, she angled her leg even more, moved a little and pressed her hot labia against my hand.

❝Devil!❞, I growled deeply, pushing her pretty hair aside to bite the back of her neck. Her body reacted quickly to my touch, and my fingers slid a little easier over her labia. She moaned pleasantly and I enjoyed giving her the little massage. Knowing exactly what I could do to her body. After a few seconds she pulled herself vertically onto my body. Only the thin blanket separated my genitals from hers, and I felt her breasts on my chest again. She rested her head relaxed in the crook of my neck, her hot breath whipping against the thin skin. I pressed one hand under her butt again, to pull her a little higher. She automatically moved one leg more to the side as I wrapped my wet fingers around her pearl. She sucked in a sharp breath, as I pressed my other hand under her thigh to massage her wet entrance. Only her hands around my neck kept her in position, her moans were music to my ears. I would never have touched my whores like that, or anyone else. These touches were for her alone and I started nibbling on her shoulder. Her hot breath hit my neck, her moans became a little louder, sounded desperate and her arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders, as if she were looking for support. ❝Not my fault!❞, I reminded her, biting her ear.

❝Yes, it’s your fault!❞, she countered and bit lightly into my neck. ❝Why?❞, I asked hoarsely as the arousal inside me ached. ❝Because you arouse me so much!”, she hissed. ❝Because you are manipulating me!❞, I replied a second later and increased the pressure on her clitoris. ❝I... don't...❞, she moaned weakly, already shaking. I penetrated her with just the tip of my finger, maintaining the pressure with my other hand. ❝You do!❞, I growled as one hand gripped my shoulder tightly, the other stayed on my neck and her body trembled and twitched. I bit her neck, which finished her off and I felt her twitch violently against my hands, her moans so hoarse, that she could barely make a sound. Satisfied, I stayed on her wet skin for a few seconds, trying to ignore my stiff member. I kissed the red spot on her neck gently, listening to her heavy breathing. ❝Don't ever get up before me!❞, I said as I pushed her away and quickly stood up.

She didn't have the strength to hold on, her hand slipping from my arm as she tried to wrap her fingers around it. I took my fingertips between my lips with relish and didn't dare turn around. If I would do that now, I would take her. But she was right, I really didn't have any time left. It was during the game, that it occurred to me that Rabban was probably already waiting for me. The ice-cold shower brought relief, but I still avoided looking at her, as I dug out a new pair of pants of mine from her closet. However, I still had the belt on the other pair of pants. ❝Cover your body!❞, I ordered her and I heard that she obeyed me. I felt her eyes on me, saw a smile on her face without looking directly at her. Removing the belt from the trouser loops, I told her that she should get breakfast. They would give her what she wanted anyway. I knew she skipped meals sometimes. ❝Hmm, a croissant with honey. A few pieces of cold fruit, a cup of tea…❞, she mused, completely lost in thought. ❝Sounds good.❞, I answered her and she looked at me questioningly, which made me laugh briefly. ❝You speak your thoughts out loud, my lady.❞ Her cheeks flushed slightly again and she cast her gaze to the floor. For me, however, it was a sign of trust, when she murmured to herself. ❝Yes, you need to eat something too.❞, she said quietly and reached for her bottle of water. I knew she hadn't meant the words to be ambiguous, but my eyes met hers hard. ❝Stop manipulating me!❞, I growled deeply and took the glass bottle from her hands, pulling the blanket from her lower body but leaving her breasts covered. I quickly pushed her legs apart, leaned down and licked up her sweet nectar, sucking on the soft skin to get everything I deserved. I pressed my hand firmly over her mouth, so I wouldn't have to hear her moan. It felt like I wasn't allowed to kill someone who deserved nothing more than to die. And it didn't get any better when I pulled away from her but bit into her thigh one last time. ❝So, I had mine.❞, I said without looking at her. I heard her laughing softly as I stepped out the door. Not knowing that I would be touching her again in about two hours.

I felt a hand on my upper arm and knew immediately that it was my fiancée's. I had already smelled her perfume. His body, uncovered, was being transported away on a stretcher. ❝No one will ever harm you again.❞, I reminded her whispering. There were a few other Harkonnen standing in the hallway, watching what was happening. The smell that came out of the prison was horrible. But I knew that every single cut on his body had been worth it. In the end, I had removed his skin uncleanly and roughly. Since I had also cut off his limbs, he looked more like a raw piece of meat. I cut off his head purely out of protest. I didn't know whether he was still alive at that point. I heard her swallow, she probably wasn't expecting this sight. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, unfortunately the rain had only cooled down the night. Her hair was pinned up, some kind of jewelry holding her hairstyle together. I wrapped my arm tightly around her waist, as she looked away from the piece of meat. She leaned her forehead against my upper arm and closed her eyes. I placed a kiss on her hair. It didn't bother me that we weren't alone. Everyone should know by now, especially after my action in the arena yesterday, that I felt something for the Na-Baroness. I was probably the first Harkonnen in decades, but who would have a problem with that? Except for my uncle.

At that moment, she asked if I knew when he was coming back. ❝From what I know, not today.❞, I replied immediately. She smiled with relief and looked at my bare upper body. Because of the heat, some wore no tops. The bite marks on my shoulder and under arm were clearly visible, as were my teeth marks on her neck. ❝Hmm, would you like to go swimming later?❞, she asked me quietly. ❝I would even be willing to try the cold water.❞, she added, which, made me laugh for a moment. ❝Are you sure you can do this?❞, I teased her. ❝I can at least try!❞, she countered. ❝Otherwise you have to go into the lukewarm water with me.❞, she continued as I saw an equally black bikini through her transparent top. The small stainless steel Harkonnen symbol hanging between her breasts, how pretty. I also saw the two teeth, slightly above her breasts, which were attached to a thin chain link. I examined her work with interest, turning it between my fingers. ❝Good idea.❞, I mumbled and she grinned at me. ❝Is someone saying their thoughts out loud, Na-Baron?❞ I paused for a moment because she was right, but then nodded. ❝Morning swimming is very good.❞, I told her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind me. I didn't feel like waiting until tonight. However, I knew full well that she wouldn't be able to stand the cold water. I also knew that there was a good chance that we wouldn't be swimming at all. Maybe a few strokes at the beginning, but it would lead to something completely different. Our emotions are still fully charged from yesterday. Her fingers cheekily tugged at my waistband and undid the belt, even though we hadn't even arrived yet. ❝Naughty brat!❞, I growled, grabbing her and easily pulling her body over my shoulder, biting her butt. She planted kisses on my back, which I enjoyed more than I would ever admit.

I watched her touch the ice cold water with just one toe. She grinned sheepishly at me and shook her head. ❝I knew it!❞, I said, went up to her and picked her up in my arms. Her hands wrapped around my shoulders, her lips kissed my neck as I stepped into the lukewarm, slightly bubbling water with her. I heard another ❝Thank you.❞ from her when we were so deep in the water, that it was up to our arms. She wrapped her legs around my hips and I was almost painfully aware of how much I wanted her, as she pressed against me, making us both moan. How could my ego allow this? I already had removed her bottom garment as I undid the knots on her neck and back, placing it on the edge of the pool, without moving away from her lips. I pressed my knee between her legs to lift her up a little more. One hand on her back, the other on her pearl. Her fingers clawed at the muscles of my upper arm, moaning my name hoarsely as I sucked on the skin of her neck to add more marks. I bit the link chain and gave it a playful tug. She pressed herself even closer to me, wrapping her legs around my waist so tightly, as if she felt like she was drowning. A hand stroked the back of my neck, definitely one of my weak spots. Sighing pleasantly, she placed a few gentle kisses on my neck and collarbone. ❝You are mine, Feyd-Rautha… but please tell me. How did you know it was him?❞ Evil grinning, I shook my head, kissed my property and tasted the honey on her lips.

-> New Taglist open <3 I tag in the comments.

#•ཐི♡ཋྀ•#feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha dune #dune part two #dark aesthetic #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen smut #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha smut #house harkonnen #dune giedi prime #Spotify #LB •OneShots•

181 notes · View notes

thesunisatangerine · 11 months

Text

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part four

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 4.3k

It didn’t stop after the first and it sure didn’t stop after the third, either.

Depending on her schedule, you saw Alexia once or twice at most a week; most of the time it was on the night after a Barcelona match and by the next morning, she’d be gone before you even woke up. But you’d noticed her visits had been increasing in frequency lately, not to mention that sometimes she’d still be in bed when you awakened. The first time you found her still asleep beside you, you were dumbfounded, thinking it was a dream image of her in front of you. And what amazed you even further was that it kept happening.

It wasn’t an unpleasant development. In fact, it was something you gratefully welcomed. And it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes when Alexia came over, you didn’t even have sex you just… talked: about her training and her health, her teammates’ shenanigans–and hers, of course–her family and bits of her personal life. Meanwhile you told her about places you explored and showed her photos of where you’d been. Then she’d tell you about places you could check out, food to try, and even went ahead and promised to take you to some of the places herself when she had the opportunity.

These times were rare, sure, but you found yourself enjoying her company more and more to the point you noticed yourself craving for it–found yourself missing her presence despite your constant back-and-forth messages. And still you didn’t ask where this was going for fear of ruining whatever the two of you had; you were content and you just simply wanted to watch this unfold as it was. And anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fleeting relationships, situationships–whatever you’d like to call it–because who was to say this wouldn’t end up like your previous dalliances–ending before it could ever truly begin? Despite you hoping otherwise, a large part of you already convinced yourself that this wouldn’t be anything different: just another highlight to your getaway vacation that you’d look fondly back on a few years down the line.

You had a month left in Barcelona, maybe an additional few weeks depending on the client. What could possibly go wrong?

———

A knock took your attention from your work to the door. You looked at the time–it was early evening on a Saturday and you weren’t expecting anyone. Perhaps you just imagined it? But then it came again not a minute later. You were reluctant to open it seeing as it was already dark but a ping from your phone that signalled a message from Alexia asking if you were home had you flying to the door.

Upon opening it, you found Alexia there with Nala resting in the crook of her arm, phone in hand, and a paper bag in the other.

“Took you long enough.” Alexia said playfully, all cool and confident but then her brows quirked upwards almost sheepishly as she said in a more tamed tone, “is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You smiled at her consideration before you ushered her in. “No, no! It’s fine, really! Come on in. Sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable opening the door when it’s dark without knowing who it was.”

“Ah, it’s my bad. I should’ve let you know before dropping by.” She bent down and let Nala loose before she untied her shoes and left them by the door. Nala bounded to the living charged with curiosity, nose to the ground, tail wagging as she carefully examined the new space.

Alexia regarded her dog with an amused expression before she looked back at you. “I meant to bring this over after the game tomorrow but I saw the lights as I drove past so… here I am, I guess.”

You reassured her again as you locked the door behind her and you watched as she made her way to the kitchen. As you passed through the archway to the kitchen room, Alexia already situated herself by the counter taking out glass canisters from the paper bag she brought. When she took the lids off, a delicious aroma instantly filled the air, enticing your senses.

“What do you have there?” You asked as you leaned on the opposite side of the counter.

Alexia smiled at the eagerness in your tone and pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, “only the best fideuà and esqueixada in the world. Made special by my mother, of course.”

You peered into the containers and the sight made your mouth water instantly. As if it remembered that you hadn’t had any food yet, your stomach grumbled obnoxiously. Alexia definitely heard it because she fixed you with an amused smile and at that, your cheeks warmed so you tried to divert her attention. “You know what would put this all together?”

“What?”

“Wine or champagne. Wait–are you allowed to drink?”

“I’m allowed since I’m still not qualified to play yet.” Her visage became somber for a moment–it fleeted so quickly you almost didn’t catch it–before the light in them returned again. “If you have it, white wine is the best complement for this.”

You hummed and tapped your chin, turning to make your way to the cellar. “I’ll have a look. I’m sure Derek has some wine stored in here somewhere.”

You’d mumbled the last part but it seemed Alexia’d caught it because she asked, “who’s Derek?”

Something odd in her tone stopped you and made you look back at her. Her face was unreadable, almost too neutral. She didn’t think Derek was your boyfriend, did she?

“Oh, Derek’s my brother. He hasn’t been here for a while but he owns this house.”

“Ah, I see,” Alexia cleared her throat, looking away and you could just see a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll lay out the plates. I suppose they’re just in...?”

“The bottom drawer to your right and the utensils are in the upper one.” You instructed as you continued towards the cellar.

“Oh, yeah, I see,” came Alexia’s muffled response.

When you returned with the bottle of white wine, you found that Alexia managed to locate the glasswares by herself and were drying them with a tea towel. There was only one set of plate and utensils laid out though so you fixed her with a confused look.

“You’re not going to eat?”

Alexia shook her head. “I already had my fill with my family earlier. I’ll take the drink, though.”

“That’s nice that you visited your family today. How are they?” You sat at one of the high chairs by the counter, popped the wine open and poured each of you a glass. You noticed that Alexia’d heated up the fideuà for you from the steam that rose from its container which strengthened its aroma and made it all the more enticing. Alexia remained opposite you but she was close enough with her leaning forward on her elbows, her glass of wine in hand.

She sipped her wine and told you they were well, described little snippets of what’s been happening in her family life. She even told you about a prank she recently played on her sister, one that nearly made you choke on your wine.

You listened as she talked, liking the way her brows quirked and her shoulders move as she spoke, how each gesture became more pronounced the more passionate or interested she was on a subject. You asked questions and engaged with the conversation every now and again as you savoured the rich taste of the pasta and the freshness of the salad. You’d never had anything like it and you told her as much. In response, she said she’d give the compliment to her mother when she saw her next which made your cheeks warm up again. Once you finished, you tidied up and though you insisted she didn’t have to, Alexia helped you wash up anyway.

Afterwards, the both of you ended up in the living room with your glasses of wine. She gestured at your laptop on the couch with her glass.

“Work?”

“Yeah. Just double checking if I missed anything important and preparing for the match tomorrow.” You sat on the couch and put the laptop on your lap. Alexia opted to sit on the carpet, legs stretched and crossed, back leaned back against the couch, her head just beside your legs as Nala settled by her side.

She turned her head, looking up at you. “Can I see?”

You turned your laptop so she could see better. You flicked through the photos you were sorting through, explaining to her every now and then the thought process behind each shot. On some photos, Alexia asked you to pause so she could soak them in.

“These are great. You have a great eye.” Alexia complimented with an appraising nod as you got to the end. You thanked her as you pulled back. Then a question came to mind.

“Do you ever get used to it? The cameras, I mean.”

A pause.

“I’m not and I don’t think I ever will. I’m more comfortable with it now but if it’s possible to avoid, I’d do it. I know it’s a part of football and god knows how much more exposure women’s football needs,” Alexia released a heavy sigh, “but sometimes it just gets too much, you know? I mean, I really should be grateful, right? To have gotten to this point? But the media side of it is… not without its own set of miseries.”

There was an inflection in her tone upon her admittance–guilt. You gently carded your fingers through her hair, Alexia leaned into your touch in response, and you replied just as softly, “it must’ve been difficult. It still is and for you, especially. And I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately but you have to know: you’ve given so much of yourself already. It’s not a sin to want a little peace, Alexia, and it doesn’t make you ungrateful for wanting it, it just makes you human.”

Alexia took a deep breathe before she rested her temple against your knee. Then you heard her whisper, “thank you.”

A silence fell upon the both of you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She remained that way for the majority of the night, head against your knee as she watched a game of football on the TV.

By the time you finished up your work, it was already late evening and Alexia’d dozed off beside you. You felt bad as you gently woke her up and groggy hazel eyes found yours when you did. The sight made your heart ache from how much Alexia looked younger and more at peace this way, and you told her to wash up so she could stay the night.

And she did.

Now, your cheek felt warm against her chest despite the slight dampness of her borrowed shirt from her hair. Her skin smelt faintly of the soap you were using and with her arm around your waist, you fell asleep content, lulled to a deep slumber by the steady rhythm of her heart.

———

“Hey, please don’t wear that, it’s dirty,” came Alexia’s reprimand from behind you.

You glanced at her reflection in the mirror: Alexia was propped up on the pillows against the headboard, an arm behind her head, nude except for the bundle of sheets that covered one of her thighs, the marks you’d left on her neck and chest last night and this morning generously displayed for you to behold.

She was nothing short of glorious, you thought, looking relaxed and content like this.

You turned your attention back to your own reflection: Alexia’s Barcelona jersey draped over your smaller frame and fell just partway down your bare thighs. It felt comfortable against your skin and the fact that it smelt just like Alexia made it feel all the more special.

When you looked at her reflection again, you found her with an affectionate smile, eyes lidded and brows inflected slightly upwards, and suddenly the attention warmed your cheeks.

“But you only wore it for a shoot, right?”

“I mean, yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hummed, “do you need it?”

“No, I have spares,” she replied before she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“That means I have time to wash it before I give it back since you insists that it’s dirty.” You said drily as you turned away from the mirror and padded your way to the bed, crawling on the sheets on your knees once you got there.

As soon as you got close enough, Alexia’s hands were immediately on you, guiding you to straddle her lap before she embraced you fully, resting her chin between the valley of your breasts as she looked up at you. You carded your fingers through her hair to see those fair, hazel eyes that never failed to make you shiver.

“I didn’t say you have to hurry. Plus… I kinda like seeing my number on you.” And then she was kissing your neck and you felt one of her hand creeping its way down to cup your ass. You gasped when you felt the heat of her fingers brushing against your core and you buried your own in her hair as she traced a path from your throat to your ear with her tongue, nipping at your lobe when she got there.

“Fuck… Alexia…” You moaned, “you’re insatiable.”

She kissed your shoulder and then she whispered, “only for you.”

———

Something flashed from the corner of your eye followed immediately by a string of whispered curses and a familiar whirring sound. You put your thumb over the line you were just reading so you wouldn’t lose your place before you looked over your bare shoulder to the corner of the room you knew Alexia was who you found, as expected, holding one of your Polaroid cameras.

She was only wearing a pair of grey sweats which left her torso bare and–like all the time you saw her nude–you couldn’t help but appreciate the soft curves of her breasts and the carved muscles of her stomach. When she met your gaze, she smiled almost sheepishly at you not dissimilar to a child being caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You raised a playful eyebrow at her but instead of answering, she placed her eye over the viewfinder, aimed the camera at you, then pressed the shutter again.

The film came out with a whir and Alexia immediately tucked it into the pocket of her sweats. She then began to make her way towards you and at every other step, she’d stop to take a photo of you, carefully manoeuvring the camera to get the right angle as she did so. It was an endearing sight, really, and it was one that filled your chest full of warmth.

Eventually, she ended up on you, turning you over on your back as she straddled your waist, leaving you at the mercy of Alexia and her camera. From this position, you couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and exposed not because of your bareness, but because you knew with the way your chest surged with warmth from how Alexia gazed down at you with a satisfied grin, the dimple on her cheek showing as her tongue peeked out between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, seemingly focused on getting the right shot, that this was a woman who had the power to completely and utterly unravel you.

As a photographer, you were well acquainted with how cameras had the capacity to capture the essence of a moment–to display in raw details the emotions of its subject and freeze them in time, readying them for the dissection and scrutiny of the viewer. You wondered then what Alexia would see written in the shadow, the light, and the colours in the photos she just took of you once she looked at them, and the thought both elated and frightened you.

Alexia brushed away hair from your temple but as she was about to pull away, you put yours atop of hers and turned your cheek into her palm, looking directly at her behind the camera. You heard her breath catch and then she stuttered out a breath, and the flash barely registered in your mind because you were too focused on the strength and the warmth of Alexia’s hand as you pressed butterfly kisses on the inside of her palm.

The next thing you knew, the camera was abandoned completely and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your throat when you finally felt Alexia’s lips on yours.

———

Alexia sat on one of the high chairs in the kitchen room, hair damp, a game of football on the mounted TV that was left forgotten in place of… something that you couldn’t quite see from this distance. Alexia’s shoulders were hunched over in concentration and you didn’t have the heart to interrupt whatever she was doing so you leaned on the archway, content with just observing her do her work.

“Are you just gonna stand there or would you care to join me?” You rolled your eyes and you didn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. So much for being sneaky–the fact that Alexia was an accomplished footballer who had crazy spatial awareness occasionally slipped your mind.

“Okay, Gwen Stacy, calm down.” Alexia looked over her shoulder then and stuck her tongue out at you, grinning. “How did you even know I was here?”

“Your reflection on the microwave.” She gestured to it with her chin and sure enough from this angle you were instantly visible especially with the white shirt you had on. The dark glossy surface almost made you look like a ghost.

Standing on your toes, you draped yourself over her broad back, arms wrapping loosely around her neck as you peered down. “So, what are we working on?”

“This.”

A bracelet made of a dark-blue and red string that looped into itself with a singular, small gold diamond-shaped charm right in the middle, a vertical bar at the two corner points of the long edge of the diamond, dangled between Alexia’s fingers. She took your right hand and placed it in your palm so you could look at it: the bracelet was simple but it’s delicate nature made it all the more beautiful and elegant.

“Oh, wow, this is so pretty.”

“It’s for you.” At that you looked at her, half-afraid that she’d feel the way your heart raced at her words against her back.

You were so busy trying to find the right thing to say that you didn’t realise that she took the bracelet back until you felt the warmth of her fingers on your palm as she turned your hand over. You watched her as she wrapped it around your wrist, securing the tie. You turned your right wrist over and looked at the delicate bracelet, and something in your heart soared at the small gift. The fact that Alexia made it herself made it all the more special to you.

“Thank you, Alexia. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”

That night while you were sufficiently warm nestled by Alexia’s side, naked except for the sheets, your head on her chest, a realisation hit you.

“It represents FC Barcelona, isn’t it?”

Alexia hummed in answer, the rumble from the sound a pleasant sensation on your cheek. Then she held your wrist in the space between her thumb and index finger, the width of her palm supporting your hand as she turned your hand just so so the gold of the diamond could catch the light.

“And what else?”

At that, you looked at the bracelet intently. The two bars: one and one–Alexia’s number. So she really was serious when she said she liked seeing her number on you.

You let out a small laugh, then you nuzzled her jaw as you spoke, “you little sneak.”

———

Minding her bad knee, you flipped the both of you over with a strength that even surprised yourself and with how Alexia’s brows raised high, you supposed it took her off guard, too. You settled your weight on her stomach and you bit your lip when you felt her abs tense against your core, and the desire in you blazed into a raging inferno that threatened to burn you inside out.

She grabbed your ass in both hands with a firm grip, making you gasp when her hold made you grind against her stomach, her eyes smouldering as she looked up at you.

That look was your last straw; you couldn’t stop fighting your desire anymore so you let it swallow you whole. You fell forward, bracing your weight against your elbows as you craned your neck to kiss Alexia, rough and desperate, her lower lip between your teeth. The action rewarded you with a low moan, a delicious sound that shot heat straight down to your core.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexia gasped out between your relentless kisses.

“I like being on top,” was your simple answer whispered hotly against her ear, nipping gently at the soft skin there–teasing.

Then it was your turn to gasp.

Her fingers dug delightfully into your flesh, kneading your ass roughly before easing them apart with equal force. The harsh treatment caught you by surprise and the effect of it even more unexpected as you immediately melted against her, moaning her name helplessly against the crook of her neck.

She knew just how to make a mess of you.

“Hmm, do you?” She asked coyly and then proceeded in a deliciously low voice that oozed seduction, smugness, and sex. “Too bad I’m still in control.”

“Fuck.” Your body answered for you in a full-body shiver. Her words turned you on to the brink of falling and you found no purchase as you slipped from the ledge.

It should be embarrassing how you could come without Alexia even fucking you, and it should scare you that she had this much power over your body but in this moment, when her hands were everywhere but your pussy and her filthy words were whispered hotly in your ear, you could care less. So you fell apart, shaking and weak, as you sank on top of Alexia’s firm and soft body, her name barely coherent from the sobs that came out of your lips. Euphoria lit every nerve in your body as you came, the fabric of your underwear latched deliciously on your pussy like a second skin and you were sure that you’d made a mess on Alexia’s bare stomach.

You only realised Alexia had stopped her teasing ministrations until you heard her thick voice through the haze of the afterglow which you barely caught.

“You came.”

It wasn’t a question, really, but you let out a small affirmative moan because what else could you do? You were mush–the intensity of your orgasm caught you off guard and left you floundering that no thoughts formed in your mind, just pure bliss and ecstacy. But as the veil of euphoria began to lift, embarrassment bled into the edges of your consciousness and with it the instinct to apologise. The words were poised at the tip of your tongue when Alexia moaned.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she breathed out and when you found the strength to lift your head to look at her, her eyes were lidded, pupils blown so wide they were almost all black.

And then she was pulling you in for a kiss, and then the wet heat of her tongue traced the edge of your ear, and she was nipping at your jaw while she dragged her palms from your ass to the side of your ribs. Your skin burnt at her touch and you could do nothing but surrender, to moan and whimper as your heat blazed anew despite having just been swept away.

“But this time, you’re going to come with my fingers in you.”

She didn’t even let the words sink in. Instead she wasted no time to slip her hand between your bodies and to push aside the fabric of your ruined underwear. Usually, Alexia liked to tease you and ease her fingers in you slowly as she sought as much reaction from you as she could, but the slick she found there must had been enough to satisfy her because she pushed two fingers in as soon as she found you. The thickness of her fingers slid in easily and you nearly screamed her name from the pleasure.

She was relentless in her endeavour to make her words true with the way she gripped your hip steady with her free hand so you didn’t stray too far from her touch when you moved to meet her thrusts, the pace at which she worked her fingers in you left you lightheaded the same way her teeth on your neck worked to drive you insane.

“Alexia, Alexia, Alexia–” You chanted her name like a holy litany, burying your face into her hair that was now slightly damp with sweat and breathed her in: her scent of sun and freshly cut grass, of faint wintergreen, and an essence that was uniquely hers. The moment left you full with something heavy and warm, something that spoke of and hoped for forever, and clarity washed over you: this wasn’t like one of your previous dalliances anymore because you wanted more with her.

The realisation hit you hard, the gravity of it left your mind in a momentary stasis that when you came back to yourself, the shock of your orgasm knocked the breath from your lungs and you felt yourself being pulled by the tide. So strong was it that you could do nothing but pray the flood wouldn’t take you–that Alexia wouldn’t let you drown.

#ap11 #not proofread #mine #my writing #a/n: i think this is the halfway point guys for this one #ik alexia mentioned somewhere that she has dinner with her family on fridays but for this fic's sake i made it to saturdays lol #also i have a backlog of ideas i wanna start writing but i really wanna finish this one first #just a side note this part is 4.3k #so on aggregate this is officially the longest fanfic id written so far.#hope you guys like this and would love to know what you think about the story so far #just a reminder: im tweaking minor details as i go so the most accurate copy of all the parts will be on my ao3 (@thesunisatangerine)#apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes ill work on em later #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader

636 notes · View notes

bingwriterxo · 1 year

Text

stressed

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: in which jenna takes her recent stress out on you

warnings: none

word count: 1500+

It was a fine summer night, with the air outside just cool enough for it to be worthwhile to open your windows, and the moon and stars were already hanging high in the sky, illuminating the areas that were otherwise dark.

You found yourself sitting on the couch in your apartment, your knees pulled up to your chest and your chin resting atop the blanket that covered them. Your eyes were trained on the glowing television that was situated in front of you, but your mind was elsewhere, thinking of a certain brunette that should’ve walked through the front door hours ago.

Jenna had, it seemed, been coming home later and later each day, to the point in which you hadn’t spoken to her for the past week because she had been slipping through the door in the early hours of the morning. Some nights, you’d be woken up by the feel of the mattress dipping beneath her weight or the sound of her in the bathroom, but you were never conscious for long enough to hold a conversation; always just awake enough to know that she was home safe.

That morning, you had made the decision to wait up for her, no matter how long it took, because she was your girlfriend and you missed her desperately. Before she turned into America’s ‘it’ girl, the two of you would spend long nights together, doing whatever came to mind: date nights, movies, wine and painting. However, with her change in status, everyone wanted her to star in their projects, and her schedule was booked to the very last moment. You were left straggling in the background and hoping that she would look your way sometimes.

Your thoughts were thrown out the window the moment you heard the jingling of keys on the other side of the front door, and a smile pulled at your lips as you turned your head to watch Jenna walk through. You giggled softly at the sight of her: hair a mess from the long day, posture poor from the stress, a sigh falling from her lips.

After kicking her shoes off and relocking the door, she turned around, freezing at the sight of you. “You’re still awake,” she said, placing her purse on the table beside the door.

You nodded. “I was hoping that we could spend some time together,” you admitted, watching as she strode into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water. “It’s been a while since—”

She sighed and uncapped the water. “I’m tired, Y/N,” she said before taking a sip.

Disappointment started to bloom in your chest, and you glanced away, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “We could just watch a movie or something. It doesn’t have to be extravagant,” you suggested, looking at her again.

“I don’t think so,” she said, an edge to her voice. Jenna offered you a tight-lipped smile, but you could tell it was fake from the way it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

You frowned. “Jenna, please,” you pleaded, voice soft.

“Not. Tonight,” was her sharp response, and a wave of tears began to build in your eyes. She stared at you without an ounce of emotion, like she didn’t even faintly regret the way that she was acting toward you.

“I just miss you,” you confessed in a whisper.

“God, you are so fucking annoying!” Jenna groaned, running a hand down her face, and it felt like she had stabbed you directly in the chest. You swallowed hard to keep your sobs at bay and blinked quickly to do the same with your tears. “Could you not be a stage-five clinger for once? I’m tired, okay? Can’t I just go to fucking bed?”

“I—” You inhaled sharply, the breath shaky. “Okay,” you conceded. “Goodnight.”

“Great. Night.” She disappeared down the hall, barely sparing you another glance, and left you out on the couch with silent cries slipping past your lips and your body trembling where you sat.

* * *

When Jenna woke up, she reached out for you, hand swiping along the mattress where your body would normally be, but upon finding nothing she peeked an eye open. You weren’t there; in fact, it looked like your side of the bed hadn’t been touched at all, like you had never gone to bed the night before.

“Y/N?” she mumbled, sitting up with a groan. She looked around the bedroom, as though a hint about your whereabouts would be standing to attention, but didn’t see a thing. She slipped out of bed quickly and quietly, and then padded out into the hallway, eyes scanning for you.

You weren’t in the living room, or the kitchen, and seeing as the bathroom door was wide open, Jenna knew you weren’t in there either. The last place you could’ve been was in the guest bedroom, unless you had left the apartment, but your keys were still hanging by the front door, so she knew that wasn’t the case.

She stood in front of the closed door to the spare bedroom, tilting her head at it. Then, she tried the doorknob only to find it locked. “Huh?” She knocked softly on the wood. “Y/N? Are you in there?”

There were a few moments of silence before your quiet voice came, rough and groggy. “What do you want, Jenna?” you asked harshly, and your tone made her flinch.

“Can I come in?”

She could hear you scoff on the other side of the door faintly, like you were lying in the spare bed. “Are you sure I’m not too fucking annoying today?”

It was like a shock of electricity as the memories of the previous night came rushing back to her: her harsh words, the way she had brushed you off so easily, the fact that she had left you alone in the living room at the end of all of it even though you were clearly upset.

She cursed beneath her breath and pressed her forehead against the door. “I am so sorry, baby. I—I didn’t mean what I said last night. I’ve just…I’ve been so stressed, and it feels like all I have time for is work and sleep, and—and I’ve been brushing you off, and you don’t deserve that. And you didn’t deserve the way I treated you last night, and I am so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Jenna stood there, holding her breath as she waited for your response, but it never came. She exhaled softly as a swell of regret surged through her, and tears pricked at her eyes—the price she had to pay for hurting you. She bit at the inside of her cheek and clenched her eyes shut.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I could take it all back. I didn’t mean any of it, and I miss you too, and I’m sorry.” Tears slipped past her waterline and she let them fall. “God, I don’t even—I just…I love you, okay?” She sniffled. “Come out whenever you’re ready to talk. Please.”

She had only made it a few steps with her blurred vision when the distinct sound of the door unlocking reached her ears. When Jenna turned around, you were standing in the doorway, looking smaller than she had ever seen you with your arms crossed over your chest and a hoodie drowning your figure. She clenched her jaw at the sight of your bloodshot eyes and rubbed-raw nose, a fresh sting of tears burning her eyes because she knew that she was the cause.

“Y/N,” she breathed out softly.

You tilted your head up and inhaled deeply. “You can’t…do that to me, Jenna,” you said. “You can’t take your stress out on me, okay? I know you’ve been dealing with a lot recently, and I understand that you’re really busy now, but you can’t…you can’t get mad at me when I miss you. It makes me feel like I’m wrong for having a normal reaction to my girlfriend being gone every single day and barely speaking to me, and that’s not fair.” You let your arms fall to your sides, and Jenna took a step forward. “I can’t help but miss you,” you murmured.

“I know,” she rushed out, taking one of your hands in her own. She counted it as a good sign that you didn’t pull away. “And I miss you, too, so much. You’re right: I can’t take my stress out on you, but that’s what I did last night, and I’m sorry. The things that I said, I didn’t mean them, okay? I don’t want you to think that I meant them, because I didn’t.” She shook her head. “I love you, more than anything, and I don’t think you’re annoying, and I don’t think you’re clingy.” She sniffled. “Can you forgive me?” she asked softly, watching you carefully.

There was a moment of silence, and Jenna was ready to burst into tears, but you nodded and tugged her closer to you. “Of course, I can. But, you can’t do that again, okay? Because I won’t be so quick to forgive you next time,” you told her.

She nodded fervently. “It’ll never happen,” she whispered. She rested her forehead against yours. “I promise.”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader

1K notes · View notes

lesbianpepsi · 1 year

Text

Fuck it I love you

pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: When paired with Tara Carpenter for a project you were expecting a B or maybe even an A. Not falling in love with Tara's older sister, Sam.

series masterlist

words: 2.320k

warnings: mean sam, light swearing, reader being down bad for our sammy, bad writing

authors note: alright my darlings the first chapter to the sam mini series as promised. the wonderful anon who requested this, my dear i am so sorry it took so long for me to get to this. although it's taken a while, i do hope you still enjoy this! feedback and comments are greatly appreciated:)

The wonders of college.

You get to meet new people, explore your sexuality, party like there’s no tomorrow, try new things and staying up till three in the morning crying over a piece of work that’s due that very morning that you decided to wait till the last minute to do only to instantly regret it, saying you’ll never do the same mistake next time but knowing deep down inside you will.

And of course the trials and tribulations of group projects. Something everyone loathed, and if anyone said otherwise they’re lying.

You have never been a fan of group projects; so when your professor announced that you’ll be doing a pair project you couldn’t tell if you wanted to slap him or cry. Probably both. The absolute worst thing about projects that involve more than one party member is awkwardly asking a stranger if they’re willing to work with you.

That’s why when you heard that familiar sweet voice speak to you, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You cool with doing this together?” Tara Carpenter asked you with a nervous smile.

You and Tara aren’t exactly friends, more like acquaintances; if one missed a presentation the other would give them their notes to copy off of, saving a seat next to each other, saying hello if you ever see each other around campus.

It isn’t the fact you don’t want to be friends with Tara, she seems like a really kind woman but she’s quite distant and quiet. You can’t judge her or shame her for it since you’re shy, awkward and always in a state of anxiety.

Maybe this would be the push to make you and Tara become friends.

You smile at the brunette with an appreciative gleam in your eyes. “Please. I was already planning a speech on why the professor should allow me to do this alone.” Tara laughs, covering her mouth with her hand as the corner of her eyes crinkled with delight.

“Lucky for me then.” Tara stays silent for a few moments before she added. “Do you wanna just get the whole awkward phone exchange now?”

You chuckled, nodding your head as you dug out your phone from the pocket of your hoodie, unlocking it and passing it over to her. Tara stares between and your phone almost bewildered with the fact you just passed your phone over to her without hesitation, rather than just saying your number.

She slowly takes your phone and adds her phone number into your contacts texting herself before passing it back to you. You smiled at her as you pocketed your phone back into its original space of your pocket.

___________

A few days have passed ever since you and Tara exchanged phone numbers but no plans had been made on when you two should start. You refused to leave this till the last second like you’ve done so many times before, swallowing your nerves you unlock your phone and send Tara a message.

Me (11:32am): hey tara it’s y/n from class, i was wondering what day we can meet to start our project. i was thinking we could meet in the library whenever you can :)

Instantly you shut your phone off after the message is delivered; there always has been something so weirdly intimidating about messaging someone you don’t really know. Deciding to distract yourself you go make yourself a sandwich for lunch, leaving your phone in your room.

After two episodes of New Girl and a delicious sandwich had been eaten you returned to your room in search of your phone. Flopping down on your bed you grab your phone and see Tara has messaged you back.

Tara (12:15pm): hi y/n:) if you’re free we can meet today to get started on our project? the only issue is that i can’t come to the library

Me (12:23pm): im more than good with today!! :D

Me (12:23pm): do you wanna come over to my apartment then??

Tara (12:24pm): actually is it alright if you come over to my apartment, around half two?

Me (12:24pm): yeah idm, just as long as we start it lol. where do you live?

Tara (12:28pm): the apartment complex near Blackmore, apartment number 56

Me (12:28pm): okie dokie, see you soon :D

Tara (12:29pm): 😊👍

You grinned to yourself slightly proud you’ve decided to be smart and start this project early. You just hoped the actual planning of the project would go just as smoothly.

___________

At two you decided to leave your apartment, wearing a simple white shirt along with some mom jeans. Not even ten minutes into your walk it began pouring down with rain, leaving you sprinting towards the complex as your heavy backpack hit your bag with every step.

Slamming the double door entrance to the apartment complex open, you instantly gasp for breath as water drips off of every part of you.

How fucking typical.

You pull out your phone and with wet fingers you send Tara a quick message before slowly starting to walk up the stairs.

By the second floor you started to get tired, by the third you began wondering why the fuck there isn’t an elevator in this place, by the fourth you’re questioning your life choices and by the time you arrive on the fifth floor you’re breathing like a life long smoker who just ran towards the store after noticing they’re out of cigarettes.

Like a zombie you walk over to the apartment door with the number ‘56’ on it, sluggishly you raise your hand and knock on the door two times.

After a painstakingly long time a woman answers the door, and you’re pretty sure your heart explodes at the sight of her.

She’s got olive skin that looks so irresistibly smooth, dark brown eyes that glared at you, she’s around the same height of you if not maybe a bit taller. She’s leaning against the door frame as she’s only opened the door a small amount so her figure could be shown.

Her lips are pulled in a tight straight line as her arms crossed over her stomach, the tight grey vest top she’s wearing showing off her impressive biceps. She’s glaring at you with her cold eyes as she glowers down at you.

“Who are you?” She asks in a voice that is ever so raspy, her eyes gazing up and down your body. Your ears burn scarlet red at her eyes checking you out as you stare at her in awe. “I’m, uhm, Tara’s project partner. Y/n L/n.” You stutter out as you can feel your heart beating erratically in your chest.

If this isn't gay panic you don’t know what is.

“Why are you so wet?” She questions with judging eyes.

‘Cause of you

“It started raining after I left my apartment and I didn’t bring a coat.” You explained with a nervous smile as you locked eyes with the woman’s.

She hummed as she turned to look behind her, after a few seconds the door opened wider and Tara appeared next to the woman, the height difference between the two almost making you laugh.

Tara smiled a small smile to you before it faded and changed into shocked one. “You’re soaked.” She states in a matter of fact way. You laugh nervously as you nod your head, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “Started raining on the way here.”

She frowned concerned as she took a step back, allowing you to enter, while the older woman still stayed in the doorway, glaring daggers at you. You swallowed nervously as Tara glared at the woman. “Sam, she's fine, don't be a bitch.”

Sam

Sam stares at you for a while before she reluctantly leaves the doorway and back into the apartment, you smile at Sam’s behaviour as you turn to look at Tara.

“Sorry about her, she's just really protective over me.” Tara apologises with a smile as you enter the apartment, closing the door behind you.

As you get a good view of the apartment you notice two other people talking to Sam, you've seen them around Blackmore.

The three of them are glaring at you as they whisper among each other. When they notice you’re looking at them they silence, all silently staring back at you.

Without thinking, you wave your hand at them as you smile. “Hi, I’m Y/n. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you two before around campus.”

Tara doesn’t allow you to say more as her slender fingers wrap around your wrist as she drags you towards the dining table, your eyes remained on her beautiful sister Sam.

“I'll get you a towel, you prepare.” Tara tells you with a smile before taking off. You nod your head as you do as she said, take off your backpack and take out everything from inside it and place it onto the table.

Tara thankfully returns a few minutes later with a towel and a dry hoodie, she passes them over to you.

“You can borrow the hoodie if you want since your shirt is more than less see through.” She says with an amused laugh, you look down at blush at the fact it’s quite obvious you’re wearing a black bra.

“Thank you.” You tell her with an embarrassed laugh as you shamelessly take off your shirt and throw it into your bag before putting on the hoodie. It's warm and slightly too big for you, but you don’t mind it.

Grabbing the towel you place it under you, making sure you wouldn’t utterly soak the chair from the rain on your pants.

She gives a smile before she begins talking about her plans on what you two could do, stretching to reach the notebook full of notes you had brought with you.

You tried listening to Tara, you truly did, but not even five minutes after Tara had begun talking Sam had entered the kitchen to make a drink.

Suddenly every word Tara uttered it went into one ear and flew right through the other.

Her back faced you as she grabbed the glass from the top cabinet, not even having to go on the tip of her toes to reach it, something the shorter Carpenter would definitely have to do.

You smiled without noticing the longer you gazed at the gorgeous woman as she carried on making her drink.

“Y/n.”

You snapped your head back at Tara who had her eyebrows raised. “Did you listen to anything I said?”

Sam turned to look at the both of you as she leaned against the counter, sipping her drink. Her eyes focused on you as she drank at a slow pace.

You smiled nervously at her to which Sam only scowled back at you.

“Yeah, uhm, work and stuff right?” You waffled with a smile, Tara simply sighed as she shook her head. She went to say something but got interrupted by her older sister.

“Is that my hoodie?” Your head whips back towards Sam’s direction, Sam’s eyes focused on you. You blushed as you noticed Tara and let you borrow McHottie’s Sam's hoodie, not hers.

Your fingers toyed with the bottom of the hoodie nervously, before you could reply with utter gibberish Tara answered over you. “I let her borrow it since she was completely soaked.” She explained with a brief tight smile.

Sam hummed as she dropped the glass onto the counter. “But why give my hoodie to her? Why not yours?”

“Because It was closest to me, Sam. Jesus she isn’t going to do anything so calm down.” Tara defended you in an annoyed tone now, her eyes glaring at Sam as she leaned on her hand. “And tell Chad and Mindy to cut it out with the staring.”

“I can give it back if you’d like?” You gingerly asked. Both of the girl’s heads snapped towards you at your words.

“You don’t have to-” Tara started before Sam interrupted her speedily

“Yes. Give it back.” She demanded, pushing herself off the counter as she advanced towards you. Without hesitation you ripped the hoodie off of you, pulling it over your head quickly as your shirt rolled up with it.

You smiled sweetly at her as you passed her the hoodie with your right hand, your left hand not so subtly pulling down your shirt. Her fingers grazed over your knuckles as she retrieved the jumper from your hand, her eyes ogling at your shirt momentarily.

Her eyes connected with yours again as she pulled the hoodie to her side, she glowered over you as you looked up at her with a nervous smile.

She’s so fucking pretty, oh my fucking-

“Don’t give my stuff out again, Tara.” Sam told her sister as her eyes stayed glued to yours, “Sure, whatever, will you just leave now?” Tara says with annoyance clear in her tone, Sam stared at you for a few more seconds before she fulfilled her sister’s wish by leaving the kitchen silently.

Your eyes followed her leaving until she was out of your sight. Your eyes landed on the glaring twins to which you smiled awkwardly at them before you returned your attention back to Tara.

The shorter girl huffed as she flicked through a few pages of a notebook. “Sorry about her, she’s just really protective over me.” She apologised again.

You smiled dreamily at her as you thought more of the older sister. “You don’t have to apologise, it’s actually kinda sweet.”

Tara gives you a funny look as she snorts a laugh, her fingers finally stopping as she lands on the particular page she was looking for. “You must be delusional if you think Sam is sweet.”

Guess I’m delusional then, you thought with a smile as your eyes gazed over the half full glass Sam had left in the kitchen.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #chad meeks #mindy meeks #fluff #angst #my fanfic #scream #scream six

1K notes · View notes

mixelation · 9 months

Text

reborn au, tori POV. lead up to a mysterious ANBU social lmao

“Wait,” Tori said, sitting up from where she’d sprawled out on the picnic blanket. “ANBU parties are real?”

“They’re boring,” Itachi told her, not even looking back at her as he made another throw with a kunai. He tossed a second one at it to redirect it at a new angle that would have been otherwise impossible to throw it at. As usual, he hit the bullseye. The target was shoved into the hollow of tree and angled downward; it was an impressive shot.

“This one will be fun,” Shisui promised. “I told you. I’ll be there.”

Itachi tilted his head back, considering.

“I want to go,” Tori said, now sitting up fully. She thought “exclusive ANBU parties” were like… dumb rumors for people who desperately wanted ANBU to be cool. She was shocked this was a real thing ANBU actually did. But also, now that she was forced to accept they were real, she bet they were indeed incredibly boring, or at least deeply weird. She had to see for herself.

“I’m not inviting you,” Shisui replied. “You’re not ANBU.”

“Itachi will invite me,” Tori decided. They went to social events as a couple now. That was kind of part of their whole deal.

Shisui rolled his eyes. “Itachi can’t invite you,” he said. “It’s an ANBU event, not an ANBU-and-friends event.”

“I don’t see who would stop me,” Itachi said, moving slightly to the left so he could try his throw from an even weirder angle. “A few non-ANBU seem to sneak in every time anyway.”

Shisui clicked his tongue.

“Why are you being such a killjoy?” Tori asked Shisui, annoyed. “You’re the one who crashed our date about this.”

“Date…?” Shisui said. “I showed up and Itachi was training and you were reading porn.”

“This is related to the porn,” Itachi said, throwing his kunai. This time he only hit the edge of the bullseye. He frowned.

“How is it…” Shisui started, then shook his head like he didn’t want to know. Itachi moved further away to make his throw even harder. “Anyway, my point is. It’ll be fun, even if Tori gets denied at the door.”

“I won’t be,” Tori said, dismissive. “They want Itachi there, right?”

Shisui’s lips thinned, but he did have a counter argument. Itachi was, to the confusion of everyone who knew him, considered sort of a big deal in most circles. Even though she was objectively correct. Tori found Shisui’s lack of argument disappointing. She already had “then I’ll convince Kakashi it would be funny, and then no force on this earth will be able to stop us” lined up and waiting. She loved pulling that one. It could make everyone from Shisui to the Hokage anxious in two seconds flat.

Itachi’s kunai finally missed.

“Here,” he said, finally turning to Tori. “This is an actual impossible shot.”

Tori hopped to her feet and stood where Itachi indicated. Then she chucked her kunai in the vague direction of the target. It sailed too low, then abruptly changed direction mid-air and slammed point-first into the target’s bullseye.

Shisui’s eyes widened.

“See?” Tori said to Itachi. “The ‘fuinjutsu can only guide a kunai as well as the wielder can throw it’ thing is fake news. Even a civilian could have done that.”

She’d had to mark up the target and her kunai with like five different seals each, which made this particular maneuver basically useless in actual combat, but the scene in the book had been about carnival tricks anyway. Also, the confused look on Shisui’s face was hilarious. She wasn’t going to explain to him what was going on.

Itachi, being a traitor, opened his mouth and immediately explained what was going on.

“It did start as a picnic,” Itachi concluded of his explanation of their “date.” Halfway through lunch, Itachi had objected to the passage of Icha Icha Tori had read out loud as an actually impossible kunai throw, even though Tori’s point was that you totally could make an impossible shot by carefully applied fuinjutsu.

If Shisui thought any of Itachi’s explanation was weird, he didn’t comment on it. This was basically the only thing Tori liked about Shisui: he could listen to Itachi’s insane comments and not even bat an eye.

Shisui stayed around a little longer, not even remotely ashamed that he’d crashed what was ostensibly a private moment. The weather was gorgeous, which was why they’d picked a picnic instead of something more public, and their spot along the river was good for swimming. Shisui pulled off his uniform and did a running jump into the river. Tori watched Itachi stiffen as he hit the water and then relax when his head appeared again, alive and well and laughing.

“You should go in too,” Tori told him. “I’ll be there in a second. I want to finish this chapter.”

They abandoned the river when a group of screaming Academy students showed up. Tori toweled dry, pondering if it would look weird if she invited Deidara to come back later that day.

“Don’t you need to be practicing your aim more?” Itachi asked her while he gathered up their kunai. “Not just making elaborate seals to cheat?”

Tori blanched. “You don’t have to bring that up now,” she said. Not in front of Shisui.

“What’s wrong with your aim?” Shisui asked, teasing. “Is it actually bad, or have you accidentally fallen victim to the Itachi-adjusted rating system?”

“Please,” Tori replied. “We were genin together. Itachi hasn’t shut up about my aim since I was twelve. I’m fine; he’s just insane.”

“She has a missive from the Hokage,” Itachi said blandly.

“Itachi,” Tori hissed.

“Really?” Shisui asked. “Huh. How’d that happen?”

It wasn’t uncommon to get an official assignment from the Hokage’s office to foster a specific skill to benefit the village. But usually it was something unique: training a bloodline limit, developing a combat style that was rare or specially valuable, practice with an unusual weapon, stuff like that. “Practice with kunai” was a very weird thing to get a Hokage-level missive for; it was more like something a captain would tell a subordinate.

Also, given that Tori was a Special Jounin, it was an embarrassing thing to pitch as a skill she had to work on. That was the type of order you gave to a new genin, or a chunin that’d spent too many days doing desk work.

Her kunai skills were perfectly on par for her rank, thank you very much. It was just that Itachi was a freaky genius whose favorite hobby was doing trickshots, and his standards were insane. Minato just wanted her to push herself from good to exceptional, not just with standard kunai but with specialized ones, because she was learning Hiraishin and he wanted her to be able to use it the way he did.

Tori wasn’t sure she was going to just copy him, once she had the actual jutsu mastered. It didn’t really feel like her style. But then again, she almost never thought about how to apply her research and jutsu to combat until she was actively staring a threat in the face, and being able to slap a seal onto a kunai and throw it wherever she wanted was undeniably a vital skill. She would do the extra practice without complaint.

But Itachi didn’t have to run his mouth about it!

They walked back to the village proper together, taking the windy foot trail rather than hopping into the trees. A lazy day, indeed.

“I’m going to walk Tori home,” Itachi said once they hit the paved streets of Konoha. He very pointedly took Tori’s hand.

“Sure,” Shisui said. “See you tomorrow night?”

“He’ll be there,” Tori promised.

Shisui, she would begrudgingly admit, was an extremely charismatic and friendly guy that most people fell in love with on sight. But, in her experience, most ANBU she’d meet were anti-social weirdos with personalities like burnt toast. She absolutely needed to see what their weird-ass parties were like. For science.

Itachi dropped her hand the second Shisui was out of sight. It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other; it was just that neither of them really saw the point in hand-holding. Tori didn’t like how doing it for more than a couple minutes made her palm sweaty, and Itachi had more than once said something wild like, We would mutually improve our defensive capabilities with both hands free.

Plenty of couples didn’t hold hands, Tori was sure. It was just very important to Itachi to be carrying a metaphorical sign that said, I AM TAKEN. DO NOT APPROACH.

“It would be convenient if you did get denied at the door,” Itachi said conversationally. “Then we could leave. If we did it together, we’d seem united without doing any real work.”

“But I want to go,” Tori said. “I want to study your little ANBU guys under a microscope, like a petri dish of amoebas.”

“Don’t tell them that,” Itachi said, a tiny little smile cracking over his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you special treatment,” Tori said. “I’d tag my Itachi-amoeba with red fluorescent protein.”

Itachi snorted with amusement.

#my writing #reborn au

193 notes · View notes

edgeray · 3 months

Note

Sorry I meant for you to recommend arlecchino writers that is similar to yours full of sfw :)

Hi anon! Thank you for the clarification!

(That reminds me, I've always thought about it, but would you guys like a post where I recommend my favorite Arlecchino fics from other authors for you starving simps ^^?)

Unforunately, there is not a lot of writers like myself that is dedicated solely to Arlecchino sfw, but there are a few writers that write a lot of Arlecchino content. I'll try to recommend as much as I can! I will mostly be suggesting writers that take requests (and if you do request from any of these authors, ALWAYS make sure to check their rules).

I'd be a terrible child if I didn't mention my Tumblr mothers, @knavesflames and @megistusdiary (gotta keep the favorite child status y'know /hj). You've probably come across their nsfw works for Arlecchino, and while the two write nsfw the most, they both do accept sfw requests, and their sfw stuff is great!! @knavesflames writes only Arlecchino, I think (or she's yet written for any other character, idk).

@enthyya also writes mainly Arlecchino and only accepts sfw request. They're a new writer so they currently don't have a lot but from what they have I think you'd enjoy ^^. Otherwise, you can request from them too.

I love @liliewrites's Arlecchino works! As far as I know, she writes mostly sfw with some nsfw, but I love her works, they're so creative and she interacts a lot with anons! She's written some of my favorite Arlecchino works as of recently. She takes requests as well.

I'm a little (very) biased to @aetherdoesthings because I've following her blog since the start of this year (before I started writing for Arlecchino), so I've been a pretty loyal fan of hers lol. As of recently, she's been writing a lot of Arlecchino works and I'm sure she'd love more requests for Arlecchino ^^. She mostly does sfw requests as well.

@beiiibeii doesn't take requests, and she doesn't have a whole lot of Arlecchino content, but what she does have always smacks. Her Arlecchino works are among my recent favorites as well. (I'm in desperate need of Arlecchino angst, PLEASE, no pressure, beiiibeii, of course) I repeat, do not go to her and request stuff beaccuse she does not take requests! I just think her stuff is neat.

@servalisms 's sevchino lore is so 😩. She also writes mainly nsfw but she writes the best domestic arle. Currently she's taking a break so she's not taking any requests but her stuff that's already there is really cool.

Writers, sorry if I get your pronouns or any information wrong about you! <33 feel free to correct me.

Uhhh I think that's it for now, hopefully that's enough writers? If I'm missing anyone, that's probably because I don't see them write Arlecchino enough for me to recommend them. Go and prosper, or something, Arlecchino simps. As always, I'll still be writing Arlecchino sfw fics.

#arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #edgeray.answers #edgeray.rambles

78 notes · View notes

nanamivnemesis · 3 months

Text

WxS on a road trip headcanons:

•Driving Priority order:

-Nene

-rui

-tsukasa

-Emu

(Rui and tsukasa can be switched)

-emu is not usualy the one to drive, she’s definitely capable of it and has her license but the group is terrified she’s going to zone out and they will cruise into a ditch when she’s unmedicated. (I believe theirs is thoughts of war behind those big void eyes and therefore she’s the second most dangerous behind rui)

-Nene can drive and usually doesbut she much rather play games and nonverbaly observe conversation, if the others get to tired she’s fine with taking over for a bit, and when she’s down rui usually takes over for her

-Tsukasa can drive and is the third choice driver , boasts about being so good at driving(he failed his driving test twice) then procedes to miss the exit,twice. Rui has to read off the driving app.

-Rui is the second trusted driver of the group ,but his psychopathic ideas make others fear if he is going to stop his impulse of seeing how the airbags work.(hence why tsukasa goes before him) He’s overall good at keeping himself in check tho.

•Seating arrangements and behavior

-•passenger princess priority in accordance to driving priority:

-emu(literally princess I love her so much :D)

-Rui(reads driving instructions to tsukasa otherwise he will miss the exit again)

-Tsukasa (holds onto the celling handle thing the whole time)

-Nene(keeps an eye on emu) (if rui was with emu while driving the chances of their collective thoughts of war increase,nene prevents that)

•when in back row together:

-emu and tsukasa

- read off bill boards and tourism ads and then beg rui/nene to go see them. If rui is driving they are more likely to pull over. Nene will pull over if she decides it’s interesting enough and worth it.

-the WOAHHH!!! WHATS THAT OMG CAN WE GO or like making jokes about weird ass signs

-ba da ba ba ba when the McDonald’s sign

-emu and nene

- are usually playing games together on Nenes phone or switch.Emu loves to watch nene play rhythm games,animal crossing or stardew valley.

-nene listens to emu as she fixates of her favorite villagers and island decor.

-Nene will sometimes share her headphones with emu.

-when they try to get out of the car at stops, 500 different stuff animals they both own start to pour out the car.

-Rui and Nene

Idk if this is already canon but rui made a mini nene bot that is safely buckled in the middle seat. Rui sometimes brings out silly hats to put on it(emu made some of them)

-nene also plays splatoon when he’s in the back

-you can’t convince me rui isn’t playing fnaf or granny for shits and giggles, you cannot

-then nerds out of the stupid ways you can break these games

-emu and rui

Thoughts of war and things that are illegal to construct on stages, these 2 are a dangerous combination without any balance from nene or tsukasa

-elaborately contsructing pranks to pull on tsukasa

-otherwise they are nerding out over over silly shit and having a wholesome time

-if emu sees something cool rui is already on board with trying to convince whos driving to pull over to see the thing.

-Rui and tsukasa

-Rui ,if he decides to take a nap, will kick his daddy long legs on tsukasa lap and there is nothing tsukasa can do to stop him

-“Aw look at that cool car right there I wonder if it would survive the blast radius of a nuclear strike “”RUI WHAT-“

-Rui keep’s proposing increasingly worse and dangerous ideas for shows is tsukasa is like “WHAT” and dumbfounded

-scrolling together through TikTok to see those Reddit stories but they only look at the cool craft videos in the background and don’t care about the story

-tsukasa and nene

-(my apologies this duo I think about the least so my head-canons won’t be as good)

-insult battle where they keep trying to one up the other in more increasingly insane ways, (I think nene wins)

-she isn’t sharing her music or her games with him

-tsukasa sneezes so loud, nene records it so that whenever he annoys her or says something stupid she will play it on repeat

-“Omg look at that””rejected””I didn’t even say what it was yet-“

-if they both see/hear something weird af on the road or on a bill board they just 👀

-tsukasa will try to make jokes to make her smile and she will rate them critically (it’s all fun and games tho)

•Misc:

-nene has threatened to crash the car when the shits gotten to silly

-Emu keeps pulling out snacks from her pockets in unrealistic ways

-Rui brings bags of like candy rocks or candy dice and just eats the em infront of tsukasa and freaks him out at first but then he’s like WOAH and then they are both eating rocks.(don’t mention the chocolate crickets to tsukasa)

-rui has definitely shoplifted at gas stations with nene

-nene handles finding sleeping arrangements

-tsukasa got sick from a gas station hotdog once and he can’t handle takis

-underneath the stuff animals nene is rotting in, there are 17 crushed monster energies and coffee drink cans

-rui is looked to when there is car issues

-nene is basically keeping the other three on a leash at all times but she can’t keep them still and gets dragged along

-the amount of times tsukasa and emu have gotten lost in a gas station is impressive, sometimes rui moves the car while there inside to make them think they were left behind.

{Feel free to request headcannon ideas on my special interests! I’m not the most knowledgeable in other pjsk units tho!}

#nanamiknowsnothing #headcannons #pjsk #pjsk headcanons #project sekai #rui kamishiro #nene kusanagi #emu otori #tsukasa tenma #wxs #wonderland x showtime #wxs tsukasa #wxs rui #wxs emu #wxs nene #WxS headcannons #wonderland x showtime headcanons #ruikasa #emunene

91 notes · View notes

runningfrom2am · 2 months

Text

requiem // part four

summary: according to coriolanus snow, his best friend had the most beautiful voice in all of panem. she had been training her whole life constantly to get where she was; being up for a residency at the most elite opera house in all of panem. singing was her passion. her true love; and when that got stripped from her in a second, his world became a whole lot quieter. he loathed every minute of it.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: opera singer!mentor!reader (blink and you'll miss it), she's kind of a prodigy!! p cool imo, mute!reader, bestfriend!coryo, friends to lovers trope ooo, mentions of graphic violence early on (particularly the prologue) but after that it's pretty safe, depictions of ptsd/trauma, mental illness and minor suicidal ideation but at least she's not entirely alone, descriptions of minor medical treatments and use of medication.

a/n: fighting for my LIFE trying to sort out my student loans rn. also i'm sick. butttt i did just finally get my hands on hogwarts legacy so that's eating up all my time. anyway that's a small update on my life.

also, reminder to follow @runningfrom2am-library and turn on my notifications there to join my taglist for this series!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

three months earlier

"You could write her a song." Clemensia suggests with a shrug, tapping her pen against the inkwell, hardly looking up from it.

Coryo scoffs, shaking his head. "Don't mock me, Clemmie. I'm serious."

"So am I!" She laughs, facing her palms up against the table and looking across at him now. "She likes music, it's like, the only thing she likes. It would make her happy, I'd bet. Is that not the whole point?"

In the face of something so juvenile as asking his best friend to go to their graduation gala together, Coryo is stumbling. You were his best friend, yes, he could just outright ask- especially considering nearly everyone had already just assumed that the two of you would be attending together, but something about that didn't sit right with him.

Other girls were getting special things. Flowers, jewelry, notes, and love letters that he had genuinely heard that, on a couple of occasions, brought tears to their eyes. Not that he wanted you to cry, but... He wanted you to feel that he cared. It was important to him that you knew he really cared.

"It is." He grumbles, rubbing his forehead.

"Okay, then-"

"I'm not writing her a song."

Clemensia sighs, rolling her eyes. "It doesn't have to be any good. Maybe it's even better if it's bad! She'd get a good laugh out of it too."

"Yes, and then I'd never live it down." He says, pushing his hair back out of his eyes and trying to put his focus on the assignment they were supposed to be working on. "Besides, I didn't ask for your advice. I don't need it."

"Yes, you do." She insists with a teasing smile, reaching over the table and poking him in the shoulder with her pen. "You wouldn't have told me otherwise. You were just too scared to ask directly."

Coryo lets out a deep breath through his nose, shaking his head in quiet denial, but she can easily make out the pink tinge on his cheeks.

"Coryo, you know she'll say yes no matter what, right?" She adds, her voice softer this time.

"That's not... that's not what I'm worried about. Necessarily, I mean."

"Ah." Clemensia hums in response, taking the end of her ink pen between her teeth. "More like... you just don't want her to get the impression that she was a last resort?"

"She's not." He defends quickly.

She raises her hands defensively, a short and quiet laugh falling from her lips in the library. "I know. I know that. I'm just clarifying that you don't want her to get that impression."

When he doesn't respond, pretending to pour all his focus into taking notes again, Clemensia lets out a dramatic sigh. "I don't know, just ask her. She knows you well enough that I really don't think it matters. Just... when's the next time you're hanging out?"

"Not sure." He mumbles, scribbling down some notes that he knows are hardly legible.

"Well, what about after class today? See if she wants to go get coffee or something."

"She's coaching until seven."

"Tomorrow?"

"Rehearsals."

Clemensia lets out a huff. "This weeken-"

"Orchestra practice." He cuts her off this time.

"Panem that girl is busy." She sighs. "How does she even have any friends at all?"

"We make time." He shrugs nonchalantly, as if it didn't bother him that he hardly ever saw his best friend this late in the academic year. That was common for you, though. Usually come summer and fall you had more free time to share with him. And he was happy to wait- it wasn't like he didn't get busy during exam seasons too.

"Okay, well, now is the time to 'make time'." She exclaims sternly, leaning closer across the table and lowering her voice to a whisper. "Because I heard rumours that Sejanus Plinth was intending on asking her, and you and I both know that she is far too kind to say no. Even if he is District."

Coriolanus' jaw tenses at that and he grips his pen just a little bit harder. "Have you done question fifteen yet?"

He had already been thinking about that for weeks, and he would torture himself for another week before he finally took Clemensia's advice and "made time".

You had seen him since that conversation he had had with Clemmie, but that didn't mean he could ever get himself to actually bring up graduation outside of asking you casually if anyone had asked you yet. To which, the answer was always an unbothered "no", and a shrug that allowed you to mask the sadness behind your smile.

He didn't exactly "make time", though. His plan was quite the opposite. Knowing you had morning practice, he got to the academy early and shoved the folded up paper in your locker and practically ran down the empty halls to the library. No taking it back now.

'A note? That's so stupid! She's your best friend! Just ask!' His thoughts race at him, but that's exactly why he did it this way. He couldn't back out again now.

"Coryo," Your familiar voice says as you slide into the seat next to him, hair perfectly styled and uniform ironed flat despite the early morning you must have had.

He looks over at you, eyes slightly wide out of nervousness. "Uh, hey... How's, um... How's your morning?" He asks, trying his best to play it casual.

You smile, sliding the folded up piece of paper you had found in your locker back over to him. "Good." You answer, already going about taking out your books. "Yours?"

"Good." He nods, mouth dry as he stares down at the paper, looking between the sheet and you.

Silently, you nod for him to open it, a small smile on your lips.

He hesitates before opening it, the conscious effort it takes to not tremble taking over his nerves.

He curses himself for his own fears about what it would say, blinking a couple times before reading the note.

'Want to go to the grad gala with me? -Coriolanus'

And then in small, flawless handwriting, a swift and smooth print that lacked any hesitation, there was a new line underneath.

'Yes :)'

"I only tried on fifty different dresses to decide on the fit and style of what I wanted." You say with a slight laugh, unzipping the garment bag that held your dress.

Coryo was sitting on your bed, like he often did, hands fidgeting in his lap. Fifty dresses to him seemed unnecessary, certainly you looked just fine in the very first one all the way through to the very last. But he did understand how seriously your family took your dresses, for both your performances and events like the one you would be attending together.

"That's... that's a fair few dresses." He laughs with a small nod, gazing into your closet and away from you for just a moment, trying to get a glimpse at your performance gowns you had stashed in bags and lining the wall. It's a wonder you had room for everything, he knew you had never tossed or re-worn a single one- all large in either sheer poofiness and volume, or bright colours and patterns that drew the eye and held them hostage in your form. Sometimes both. Coryo was never sure if it was the intent to make you look like a princess from a fairytale, but a few times a year he got to see you look just like one. What he imagined them all to be, anyway, when recalling the storybooks his mother read to him and left on the untouched shelves in his should-have-been baby sister's nursery.

"Yes, well, I wanted it to be perfect." You hum, pulling the dress out of the bag and turning to him, holding it up against your chest. "Thoughts?"

Coryo nods in response, swallowing hard. The dress was stunning, and the colour was rich- it would compliment the tones of your skin and hair beautifully. He had very little technical knowledge of fashion, but what had trickled into his mind from Tigris would lead him to believe it would be complimentary to you.

But he had no idea how he would match that.

The last of his father's salvageable dress clothes was that shirt Tigris is working on for the reaping ceremony in a couple of months, and he couldn't possibly wear that twice. If she could even salvage it. Maybe he should ask her to prioritize making it into something that would better match your dress, or just wear it plain white with the black stripes to the gala instead, so he would at least feel worthy of standing at your side. Then he could wear his academy uniform on reaping day, and claim he forgot the occasion. Would that be believable?

No, of course not. That's the day the Plinth Prize will be awarded.

Hopefully to him. Definitely to him, he had to pray. He was never a religious man- no one really was anymore, but reading about it in pre-Panem history textbooks, he couldn't deny the temptation to beg some higher power for help.

The prize would solve everything.

"You like it?" You ask, drawing him from his internal panic and he nods, smiling.

"Yeah, yes. Wow. It's lovely." He nods, clearing his throat.

"Thank you." You grin, looking down at the dress and smoothing it against your leg a bit to try and get another good look at it yourself.

You let out a soft sigh of contentment before hanging it back up. "Anyway, do you want to do like a matching thing, or is that tacky?" You ask, turning to face him again.

Coryo purses his lips in thought, drumming his fingers on his lap. "I'm not sure. Are other people matching?"

You knew about his situation, of course, though he wasn't fond of talking about it. Obviously not, who would be? It never bothered you, at the end of the day he was still your best friend- even if he never let you come over to the renowned Snow penthouse unless it was some kind of emergency. Regardless, as far as the two of you knew, you were the only one outside of his family who had any idea. And you both intended to do everything you could to keep it that way.

"I think so, I heard some of the other girls talking about it." You say with a shrug. "Just something simple like a matching tie or something, we don't have to go crazy with it."

"Right." He nods, thinking it over.

"Here," You say after a moment, reaching into the bottom of the garment bag and pulling out a much smaller plastic bag with fabric samples in it from when your dress was made. "I asked for more extra than they would normally give for fabric samples, in case we wanted to match. I was hoping we could ask Tigris to make a tie or a pocket square or something, or maybe cover your cuffs with it." You suggest, sitting on the bed next to him and holding out the bag.

His heart aches as he reaches out to take it from your soft hands. It's hard to place, almost- whether or not it's gratefulness or loathing of the fact you had considered such a thing at all. Attending an event with a Snow should not include the accommodation of whether or not they could afford to dress accordingly.

The bitterness fades and settles into thankfulness for you, and all you do for him. Silently. Without discussion, without real, significant thought.

You could be friends with anyone; the girls with wealth enough to bathe in like your own, Sejanus Plinth, even, whose family quite literally bought their way into the Capitol. But you chose him.

Granted, when you chose him, you didn't have the slightest clue of the financial state of his family name, but even when you had stumbled across that fact, it didn't deter you. Coriolanus often wonders why, but who was he to question it? Hell, sometimes he wonders if the roles had been reversed, would he have been so gracious?

"Thanks." Coryo mutters, clearing his throat and nodding. "I mean, she's the expert, so I'll talk to her about what she thinks will work best."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea." You agree with a soft laugh that makes him smile by instinct alone. He couldn't help it.

"Um, I meant to ask," Coryo says after a moment, tucking his feet up on the bed and sitting back a bit, getting more comfortable. "Did your coach agree to let you change your song for the year end gala? The one you pitched to her, that was really good. You did amazing. At least, in my opinion but I don't really know what I'm talking about."

"Thank you." You reply through a sigh, laughing slightly as you flop back on the soft cushioned duvet next to him. "But, yes and no. Yes she's letting me do something other than 'Never Enough', but it's not that song I showed her while you were there. She said it was too long and would disrupt the entire schedule, which, in hindsight does make sense and I wouldn't want to do that to everyone else."

"Well, what is it?" Coryo replies, eager to hear something new from you. It was special, he knew that it was. He had seen first hand how badly you wanted to do something else.

You smile, looking up at him as he leaned back on his hands next to you, blue eyes searching yours as if they could somehow portray the answer sooner than your lips- despite you knowing it would be a song he's never heard or even heard of before.

"I decided on something else. It's gonna be a surprise." You answer with a small, almost sly smile while you prop yourself up on your elbow, gazing up at him with your chin in your palm. "But you're gonna love it, I think."

You really hoped he would, at least.

While Coryo protests, tries to squeeze the information out of you in the light-hearted way only a best friend could, you don't budge. The song in title and content reminds you far too much of him; of his pretty face, and electric soul.

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

64 notes · View notes

calummss · 2 years

Text

1920s LOVE | KLAUS MIKAELSON

masterlist : part 2

summary: your cousins, the salvatore brothers, tell you to go straight home after school. an evil vampire has come to town and it’s too dangerous; so what happens when the original vampire appears in your house unannounced

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 1.9k

a/n: my first tvd imagine for literally the man i love the most. this fic has similarities to @frost-queen ‘s work as i requested the imagine to her before i started writing but i wanted to write it myself. so before you come at me she already knows as i asked her first!! :)

‘After that we miss our chance to make memories.’ You chimed with Bonnie and Elena, all of you smiling as the cool breeze filtered through your hair.

‘Caroline, I’m not that type of person and you know that!’ A giggle escaped your lips, your hands reaching for hers. ‘Besides, I promised Stefan that I’d go straight home after school.’

‘What even is he to you?’ Caroline pulled her most Caroline face ever.

‘Well he feels like my cousin, but technically he’s probably my great x1000 cousin or something. All I know is that I’m a Salvatore and that connects us.’

Caroline pondered for a moment, letting go of your hands and bracing herself. ‘Fine.’

You let out a breath.

‘But,’

You sighed.

‘You have to actually show up to the dance and not just for five minutes before disappearing with Jeremy to never be seen again.’

‘Fine.’ You threw your hands up in the air and walked away from the group. ‘I can’t wait Caroline! I’m going to have so much fun.’ You made fun of yourself, earning chuckles from the girls before they parted ways too.

Stefan, even though your cousin from hundreds of generations ago, acted like your big brother despite being your age (one could argue about that). Stefan and Damon felt more like brothers and that’s what you always referred to them as. Since you started living at the Boarding house and got told the type of lifestyle the brothers lived, they always made sure you were safe. You were truly grateful for that. Having someone actually care about your well-being and not just yell at you to bring food to the table even though you were only nine years old…it was family. But Stefan and Damon could be pushy when it did come to your safety. Especially since that really old vampire came to town and terrorised Mystic Falls’ supernatural citizens. Since you were a human; a human that knew of vampires and was friends with them so they didn’t want to take any chances. So like any other girl with overprotective brothers, you had no other choice but to go home.

You took your time walking back. The sounds of leaves rustling on the pavement. Red-orangey leaves tumbling across the cement. Whistling of the winds as it bolted through the trees.

You felt at peace. Peace you had longed for for a long time.

Arriving at the enormous house , you unlocked the door and threw your school bag next to the shoe rack, slumping your way down the hall, but someone caught your eye.

‘And you are?’ You asked the man whose eyes were glued onto you as you walked down the steps that led to the living room.

‘You don’t know me, love?’ The stranger cocked his head with a sneaky grin on his face.

‘No, otherwise I wouldn’t ask, dumbass.’

The man chuckled, slowly standing up and stepping forwards, ‘I’m Klaus Mikaelson, I think you might’ve heard of me.’

‘That scary old hybrid?’ You gasped, mouth wide open with a weird expression of positive surprise; but you weren't afraid.

‘In the flesh.’ He lifted his arms to his side, palms facing upwards like he stood in front of a civilisation that ought him to be a god.

‘No offence but I thought Klaus was some creepy old man…you're surprisingly hot.’ You confessed, ignoring the fact that you never spoke so directly to a stranger. ‘Well, I don’t know why you're here and I don’t think I care. I made food before I went to school so it should be done by now, do you want some?’ You walked past him, mumbling quietly, knowing he could hear you, and entered the kitchen where your tart from this morning stood.

‘How do I know that you won’t kill me?’ Klaus replied.

‘Well first, I actually don’t know how to kill you,’ you lifted your thumb and started to count the reasons. ‘I would be extremely dumb to even try and I really just want to know if my food tastes good.’

‘So not all the Salvatores are as dumb as the brothers.’ He relaxed his weight into one of the kitchen stools and eyed you up and down, scanning for something.

‘Is that a compliment or are you badmouthing me with mirroring words?’

‘I take that back.’

‘Arsehole.’ You scoffed and walked around the kitchen aisle to grab a plate from one of the cupboards.

‘So what exactly am I looking at,’ Klaus eyes the ceramic pan that you had set out on the island moments before, ‘it looks nice.’

‘It’s a strawberry tart with a layer of condensed whipped cream and a layer of red bean,’ you started to plate the first portion, ‘and before you start with ‘Red bean? oh my god that’s sooooo weird’, it’s a sweet type. Very popular in east Asia. It’s really good.’ You smiled at him and pushed a fork towards him. ‘I could never make something not tasty because I’m a good chef.’

Klaus chuckled, the corner of his mouth turning into a slight smile, yet his eyes were just as cold. Grabbing the fork you had placed before him, he took a piece with equal amounts of ingredients and placed it in his mouth.

You eyed him for a long second. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t frowning. He wasn’t doing anything. Klaus’ face was blank as the test sheet you had given Mr. Saltzman this morning in first period.

‘So?,’ your eyes still on his face, ‘is it good?’ you leaned in closer, eyes narrowing with a smile. You clicked with your tongue, index finger pointing at the so-called monster in joy, ‘Of course it is!’

Instead of answering your question, Klaus simply took another hit confirming the good taste.

‘I knew it!’ You drummed against the kitchen aisle, ‘Miss Salvatore could never fuck up a dish.’ Amused, you finally gave yourself a piece and enjoyed your tart. ‘So,’ you covered your mouth with your hand, ‘you’re a 1000 year old vampire that everyone’s scared of…why?’

‘I guess it’s because I’m an Original,’ he leaned forward, close enough to smell your scent, ‘Can I have another?’ He eyed the pan.

You nodded.

‘An original vampire,’ you nodded your head cooly. ‘That’s cool. But what brings you here? I doubt you’re vacationing in Mystic Falls. Anyone willing to do that must be boring and have no expectations,’

Klaus snickered in response, his intimidating yet charming eyes felt like they were pushing past your eyes. ‘I need something.’ He confessed.

‘What?’

‘Can’t tell you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’ll tell your brothers.’ He ate the last piece of tart on his plate and leaned against the counter.

‘They’re more like my cousins,’ you grabbed his plate and set it in the skink, starting to clear things away. ‘Million times removed.’

‘You’re human?’ His tone changed but you couldn’t quite make it out. Did you suddenly fall into his power-play-game?

You hummed in response, turning back to him and sitting down on one of the barstools.

‘Do you like it?’ He asked, some sort of genuineness coating his words.

You hesitated for a second. No one had ever asked you before if you preferred the life you were living. Not even Damon asked you and he was the first to be in favour of turning humans for fun.

‘Sometimes I guess, but the thrill of wanting to be a vampire is overbearing at times.’ You took a sip of water, ‘Stefan and Damon said they’d only ever turn me if there was no other option.’ You took a long pause. ’I feel vulnerable as a human and a spark of confidence couldn’t hurt me, right?’

Klaus turned his head forward, chuckling. ‘I think you already have that spark of confidence you’re talking about, love.’

‘Can I ask you a question? Technically it’s two but,’

‘Go ahead, darling.’

Darling—…Stop.

‘Since you’re a thousand years old,’ you turned your body to him, ‘what’s your favourite decade or era you lived in? Like the Victorian era, Tudor age, all that…what’s your most favourite?’

Klaus lingered a smile, seeming almost smitten with your curiosity and sensing a passion for the past.

‘Maybe the 1920s,’ Klaus said, your eyes instantly lighting up. ‘The music, the people, the aura…it was a great time.’

‘I’m jealous,’ your face fell to a pout, swinging the last drop of water down your throat and reaching for the jug to refill your glass. ‘I wish I experienced the twenties,’

‘I think you would’ve loved the 1920s London party scene.’

‘And do you miss it? The past, I mean. Or do you prefer the modern world? I mean certain aspects are obviously for the better but it must be lonely when everything and everyone you knew ceased to exist…I think I’d become lonely.’

‘I have my family.’

‘But humans,’ you cleared your throat, ‘Vampires,’ you corrected yourself. ‘Nonetheless need different people around them. Otherwise we’d go mad.’

‘I’m already mad.’

‘I heard.’ You let out a suppressed laugh. ‘Well anyway, there’s a 1920s decade dance next week and I don’t know if I’ll go. Apparently Mystic Falls is becoming dangerous for humans and I should only go out if completely necessary.’ Shrugging your shoulders, you got up from your chair when the front door suddenly opened and in a matter of seconds Stefan and Danon were standing in the kitchen.

Damon immediately seized your upper arm with force, pulling you closer to him. He scanned your face, then your torso, arms, legs, to see if Klaus had hurt you or compelled you but he didn’t find a single scratch.

‘What?’ Klaus finally stood up and eyes the brothers up and down. ‘You think I’d harm such excellent company?’

‘What did you do?’ Stefan chimed him defensively.

You broke from Damon’s grib and walked to the other side of the kitchen aisle so that you were now between the men. ‘He didn’t do anything. We ate cake and talked. That’s it.’

Stefan eyed you for a while, but he could tell you weren’t lying and there was no reason for you to cover for him so he accepted the scene in front of him.

‘We have what you want, Klaus,’ Damon hissed, ‘but not here. Leave her out of this.’

Klaus turned his head to look at you. ‘Fine,’ now facing back at Damon. ‘but don’t fuck me over again or I will make this living hell for you.’

Stefan pushed forward, ‘We’ll talk outside.’

Klaus followed Damon, Stefan behind him and turned around one last time leaving you a tad puzzled, ‘It was nice to meet you, love.’

‘You too.’

*1 week later*

Ding ding, Doorbell.

Ugh, you rolled off the couch and stomped towards the door.

‘Caroline I said I’m not going. I can’t be arsed and—oh my god.’ You swung the door open not to reveal the blonde girl that had been nagging at you all week.

Instead it was him. Klaus Mikaelson.

‘I— Ehm— What are you doing here?’

‘I’m here to take you to the 1920s, love.’

3K notes · View notes