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itsswritten · 1 month ago

Text

feels like home

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: The start of fairy readers journey and how she ended up in the Night Court. Essentially the start of the love story we all now love <3

Wings Universe - More from this world.

Autumn

Now you weren’t the arrogant kind — Fairies were always known to be humble. It’s why for the most part, your kind kept to your meadows, didn’t construct social hierarchy like Fae, and kept those mesmerising wings hidden.

However you were proud of your skills as a fairy. You were dutiful, talented, and worked incredibly hard. The youngest fairy to ever be enrolled on the fairy council. So the fact you were failing now, was quite a humbling awakening.

You blinked again, Elodie’s panicked voice blurring into the autumn breeze.

Your first stop on your travels was the Autumn Court. Visiting your cousin, who had offered refuge after your reluctant departure from Spring. Although you missed your home terribly, you were really trying to embrace this opportunity— the chance to explore a new court, spend quality time with family, and further your studies on the other seasons. Turning the dire situation you had to abandon into something positive.

However things were not going how you had expected. Apparently Autumn didn’t agree with you as well as Spring always had.

“Y/N, there are snowdrops…in Autumn,” Elodie's concerned tone broke through. Your gaze hadn’t left the scene in front of you. Dewy snowdrops glistening under the cool autumn sun.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “I’m aware.”

The snowdrops were your flowers. Beautiful but wrong. Your magic had manifested a spring flower in an Autumn court. Something that should never happen.

It had been two months. Two months of no problems, and although the autumn shades didn’t necessarily suit you and the breeze didn’t sing as sweet as home, you had managed to settle in.

You learnt how to get by. However the mess in front of you told you otherwise.

“What are you going to do?” Elodie pressed, her nervousness emitting beside you. You never got things wrong, you were always the one everyone else relied on– Mistakes were a rarity for you.

“Trying to figure that out,” your hands fisted the fabric of your dress at your sides. Your mind whirring as you tried to figure out a plan. The intricacies of your ability had always come so naturally to you in Spring, but grappling with a new season left you fumbling for a solution.

“What. Are. Those?!” Your cousin's voice hitched in a tight tone, her voice hushing towards the end so as to not draw attention. She stalked over, her autumn-hued dress billowing behind her, hands were flailing towards you as she stormed in your direction.

With a spin you turned to her, stepping in front of the patch of snowdrops that had sprouted— as if she hadn’t already seen the little blooms that seemed to sway in the wind in mockery.

“I don’t understand…you were doing so well. I asked you to help bring the harvest along. You know, pumpkins, squash, apples. Not flowers!” Your cousin’s brows were drawn in tight, confusion and dismay in her tone. You could practically see her mind reeling as she took in the scene before her.

Instinctively your hands came up towards her, creating space, trying to calm the situation.

“I know. It’s just a small hiccup, I can reverse it. It’s fine,” you reassured quickly, not even allowing yourself to fester in the worry.

You were the youngest fairy on the council you reminded yourself— a mentor to many of your friends and colleagues. This would not phase you.

Rolling your shoulders back, you looked at the taunting flowers straight on. Flexing your fingers as a drop of magic glowing like a little firefly, sunk slowly from your fingertips to the ground. Seeping into the deep earth that was covered in a blanket of burnt coloured leaves.

A beat passed as the three of you held your breath. The forest seemed to hold it’s breath too, it’s mild wind coming to a silence.

Then, one of the buds quivered slightly, vibrating before it began to shrink and swirl back into the ground it had birthed from. A heavy sigh left your lips, shoulders dropping as Elodie gave you a slight smile. Chewing the inside of your cheek you gave her a knowing wink.

But that moment of relief quickly dissipated. Before your eyes more and more flowers began to spring before you. As though your magic had the opposite effect you had intended.

Relishing in your victory too early served you your humiliation. Your cheeks turning hot as you watched the disaster unfold in front of you. It was rare for you to fluster, but you could feel the simmering of your pride burn deep within your gut at the sight of your mistake. Eyes wide as the white petals spread further beneath your feet.

This had never happened before.

Your fingers twitched beside your sides. Magic at your fingertips itching to resolve the mess, but your confidence had been knocked. You didn’t fully trust yourself or your ability, and that was a hard acknowledgment to make.

“Okay, you need to leave now.” With a light push, your cousin ushered you away from the disaster you had created.

“What? Wait! Just give me a moment to think. To fix this” You pressed back, your ego not allowing you to submit to this defeat.

“I don’t have time y/n. That Vanserra princling’s on his way, and if he’s anything like his father he will have your head. So leave. I will fix this."

Your expression must have spoken a thousand words, words of vulnerability and insecurity, because your cousin's expression softened for a moment. Bringing you to a quick embrace.

“Your time in Autumn is up. Mistakes happen, and that’s okay. But it’s time to go.”

“But—“

She cut you off. “No but’s. You’ve both done amazing, but let’s not pretend. This isn’t the place for you, don’t think I hadn’t noticed.” Her expression was warm and understanding, as welcoming as the shades of fall. But despite how welcoming this season had been, it didn’t feel like home.

“Go explore the land, go find somewhere that feels right y/n,”

“What if…—”

What if nowhere felt like home? What if you didn’t fit in anywhere else?

Elodie grabbed your hand with a tug then, someone had winnowed to the outskirts of the field. A figure with fiery hair and a tempered presence.

There was no time for what if’s. So you left. Left your cousin to face the flame, and left to find a new home…if that place even existed.

Winter

“Why are the bears awake?!” There was a scream across the forest that ran through the barren trees. You recognised the tone, one of your Winter mentors no doubt. The shriek so sharp that any remaining creature that slept must have surely been awoken.

“Oh no..” Elodie almost cried, her feet slipping in the snow beside you. You could almost hear her heart pounding in sync with yours.

The bear—the bear you had accidentally woken—groaned and yawned, its massive paws stirring the snow as it pawed at the air, confused and sluggish. Its hibernation had been broken, and it was far too early for it to be awake.

You had been at the Winter Court for only a short time, and already, things were falling apart. The sharp, biting cold of the court was one thing, but the coldness of its people? That had been harder to handle. Their bluntness, their stoic ways, had left you feeling like you were constantly on the edge of doing something wrong. And now… you had.

It seems Autumn was not the only season that didn’t agree with you.

You blinked back your own tears, swallowing hard as you almost lost your own footing.

“Elodie, help me,” you commanded, snapping into action as you pushed against the bear’s thick fur, trying to guide it back to its den. The beast groaned again, but refused to budge, blinking its sleepy eyes at you.

The entirety of your weight was pushing against the giant bear that groaned against you, your heels digging in deep to act as an anchor in the cold white snow.

No matter how hard you tried, against your advice, the bear wanted to wake.

“Go back to sleeeeeepp little beearrrr- hicc- pretty pleaseeee” Elodie sang desperately, her voice wobbling with panic.

“Elodie that is not the lullaby,” you hissed, your own frustration bubbling up.

“I know, I’m panicking. I’ve forgotten it, y/n. What is it?” She replied beside you, face squashed against the bear’s fur as she tried with all her might to push the bear back to its bed.

You blinked. You couldn’t remember the song either.

You pressed harder, trying to remember the words yourself. Your breath was coming in ragged puffs, visible in the freezing air. Your wings, though hidden by magic, felt stiff from the cold, and your fingers ached from pushing against the giant furry animal.

By some stroke of luck after several attempts from Elodie to lull the bear back to sleep, the words of the forest lullaby found your tongue. Your magic flowed with the song, wrapping around the bear in a gentle embrace, lulling it back to sleep. Slowly, so slowly, it began to plod back toward its cave, its massive body sinking into it’s cosy bed deep within the cave.

“We did it,” Elodie breathed, her face as flushed and exhausted as you both slumped into the cold snow beneath you. The bears snoring filling the frosty air. “Maybe we got away with–” before Elodie could even finish her sentence, a shadow cast across you under the winter sun.

Your winter mentor, whose expression was as harsh as the court’s wind. Her cold, judging eyes swept over the scene, her lips pressed into a thin line as her long slender finger pointed towards the border.

Summer

It was everywhere.

Sand that is.

There was sand in your clothes, shoes, hair and even your pretty wings you always kept hidden— but that didn’t matter because that sticky Summer Court breeze would somehow ensure you were absolutely covered in it.

Blinking away yet again another gust of sand in your eye, you sat slouched under the shade of a canopy.

You were on shell duty today, meaning you had been out in that blistering sun all day. You’d always enjoyed the heat you thought, but perhaps now you realised you enjoyed it in much smaller doses.

That beacon in the sky felt especially relentless today. Your skin was burning to the touch, head heavy, dry throat and eyes stinging.

With a huff you watched as Elodie came and slumped down beside you. She went to nudge you gently with her shoulder, but you both gagged as your skin stuck and peeled away from one another with sweat.

“I heard the Day court borders are open…” she muttered, glancing towards you, anticipating your reaction.

You didn’t like giving up. Call it Spring stubbornness, but it wasn’t in your nature.

After a moment you murmured back, “Is there sand in Day?”. You swallowed hard, eyes set ahead on the expansive blue ocean before you, the line where the water met the sky blurring in a haze.

“Not nearly as much as Summer,” Elodie replied in a beat.

You didn’t like giving up. But clearly Summer didn’t agree with you either.

“Let’s go.”

Day

Perhaps it was your series of bad luck that had now left you with an attitude of indifference but as you crouched behind the freshly preened hedge you wondered how quickly your impeccable reputation had crumbled on your travels.

You were now about to commit a crime.

Perhaps crime was a bit dramatic. But trespassing was still trespassing. Trespassing on the High Lords home too.

You had been here over a month now. The Day Court wasn’t unpleasant—far from it. The libraries were vast, the streets safe, and the people, though indulgent, were kind. Yet something within you stirred restlessly, a quiet unease that had only grown with time. You had given it weeks, trying to settle in, hoping the feeling of displacement would fade. But it hadn’t. Every corner of this sunlit paradise felt like it belonged to someone else.

It didn’t feel like home.

So your papers were arranged. Tomorrow, you'd travel to Dawn, hoping to find something there that felt more like yours.

But before you left, there was one thing you had to see. One thing that had tugged at your curiosity since the moment you'd arrived: the Pegasuses. Said to be the pride of the Day Court, magnificent creatures kept under Helion’s personal protection, far from the eyes of the public.

That was why you were here now, slipping through the shadows of Helion’s estate, your heart racing in your chest. The Pegasuses weren’t just for show, or figments of stories; they were alive, breathing, and you wanted—no, needed—to see them yourself. Call it that fairy instinct, but you weren’t leaving till you saw them with your own eyes.

Your path led you through twisting gardens, till you found yourself at the heart of Helion’s estate. You crouched quietly behind the foliage, praying to the mother you’d catch a glimpse of what you’d been searching for.

Your breath caught in your throat.

There they were.

An entire herd of them, grazing peacefully. The sunlight gleaming on their coats. A shimmering silver that resembled the glow of your own wings. The sight of them took your breath away. They were even more magnificent than you’d imagined.

So magnificent that just looking wasn’t enough.

With a swift quietness and feather light steps you moved from your hiding place towards the herd.

If Elodie could see you now, you’d be sure to be scolded. You’d left her with the cute librarian in the city, told her to enjoy her last day. That you still had papers to sort– she didn’t need to be an accomplice in what you were committing. She didn’t need to know.

The Pegasuses flicked their ears, one of them lifting their head to look at you. You froze for a moment, the hairs on your arms rising, anticipating their reaction but as it blew a breath there was an ease that settled over you.

They didn’t shy away, as if they’d always known you were there. As if they had been waiting for you to pluck up the courage to meet them.

Marvellous creatures.

One of them stepped towards you, meeting your hand as it grazed across the plain on its face. Your gaze ran down its back to its wings that stretched out and then flanked back in.

“Well aren’t you beautiful..” You sighed with a smile, your fingers scratching the sweet spot behind its ear, its hoof tapping against the earth as if in agreement.

You’re not sure how time had passed, but it was distant laughter that blew in on a breeze that reminded you just how precarious your situation was.

“Come Rhys, come see my pride and joy…” A voice chimed across the garden.

You didn’t need to stick around to guess whose voice that belonged to, so with a gentle kiss against the velvety nose of the Pegasus you bid your farewell. Quick as a sprite, you slipped back into the shadows.

Just as you reached the edge of the estate, you glanced back over your shoulder. Offering a sweet smile to the Pegasuses you had met, hoping that despite Day not feeling like home your paths would cross with the magnificent creatures again.

It was Azriel who stood by the golden archway in the garden. Watching as Helion presented the treasures he boasted so often about– the beautiful Pegasuses that were now grazing in front of them.

“I would like one..for Feyre,” Azriel heard Rhys try to negotiate with Helion, their voices blending over the soft breeze and rustles from the animals. That he hadn’t even noticed his gaze had fallen elsewhere, all the way to the border of the estate he noticed a rustle in the leaves, a flicker of light perhaps, but there was a faintest scent of something on the wind—a hint of honey and peonies.

He paused, tilting his head as if attuned to something that beckoned him, though he couldn’t quite place it, but maybe with time he would.

Dawn

Imbuing the sky sounded easy. Fun even– But as you glanced up at the Dawn sky that resembled something more like dusk you swallowed hard.

The golden hues of the Dawn Court greeted you with a warmth that felt almost too soft. Here, everything shimmered with the glow of early morning—pastel skies, the gentle rustling of trees in the breeze, and the constant hum of quiet tranquillity. It should have felt peaceful. It should have felt right.

But instead, it felt fragile. Like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto.

You had tried. When you first arrived, you thought maybe this would be the place. The Dawn Court was steeped in a quiet sort of magic—delicate, but powerful. It suited you in theory: a blend of intellect and beauty, the balance of light and creation. You had forced yourself to adapt, to fit into the patterns they laid before you, hoping this time, this Court, would finally feel like home.

But when tasked with the simple task of imbuing the sky, it had stirred something deeper, something darker, and the sky had responded.

You opened your eyes, gasping in horror as you watched the colours bleed across the horizon—not the pale blush of dawn, but the rich, burning tones of dusk. Deep oranges, purples, and indigos streaked across the sky like a wildfire, swallowing the soft morning light with every passing second.

The magic swirled around you like a storm, the sky thick with colour, draping over your skin like an ink-stained canvas. You tried to stop it, to pull it back, but it wouldn’t listen. The darker hues clung to you, soaking into your skin, wrapping around you like tendrils of shadow.

From dawn to dusk and then to twilight..

It was beautiful in a way—if only it wasn’t so terribly wrong.

“Don’t.” You bit out through gritted teeth, stopping Elodie from saying anything. The deep purple hue of sky covered you. The shimmer iridescent resembled something of a paint, but it was almost too beautiful to even be compared to that.

You didn’t even wait for your Dawn mentors to scold you. Simply went to pack your things and leave.

Lip quivering at another failed court, another failed attempt at finding home.

Night

The Night Court was the only place left. The last court you hadn’t yet tried, the last hope you had of finding where you truly belonged.

Which at this point you felt as though living amongst the thorns of Spring was a better option. You should never have left. Perhaps this was your punishment for abandoning your court, despite having no other option.

Your fingers tried to brush away the sky that was still infused to your skin, you looked ridiculous. As if you’d painted yourself in the night court's colours out of admiration. You were grateful the midnight hues concealed how embarrassed you looked.

The Night Court was a stark contrast to the sunlit lands you had just fled. Shadows danced among the trees, and a cool breeze whispered amongst the glistening stars.

It truly was beautiful.

But there was a looming weight with that realisation. Every court you'd experienced was beautiful– in its own unique way. So why would Night be any different? Why should you believe this would be the court where you truly belonged?

“Papers please,” A soft voice broke through, a female was reading through your documentation. Dorned in a dark robe, Illyarin soldiers flanking her sides.

She quirked a brow as she took in your appearance.

“It’s just sky…” Elodie butted in as if it was a normal occurrence– normal for one to be covered in the celestial shimmers of the sky. You swore you heard the High Fae mutter something under her breath, a small bite about meadow fairies that had the males beside her snicker. However after a quick assessment, she waved you both through.

You had assumed this admission would feel like every other court, plain, dull, but the moment your feet stepped across the border there was a simmering in your chest. It was as if the Night Court itself was welcoming you, the ancient forest shifting its branches above to clear a path for the stars to twinkle down upon you. The gentle breeze carried the distant melodies of the city, wrapping around you like a soft embrace.

You dared to speak of what you were feeling, but one quick glance at your friend and you could see she felt it too. A twinkle sparkled in her eyes as she shared a smile with you, a silent exchange that spoke of hope and dreams. For the first time in what felt like ages, laughter bubbled between you, light and carefree. You clasped each other’s hands, giggling at the energy and magic you were feeling.

There was something about this place, something that felt so familiar–

So enamoured by your senses you hadn’t even been paying attention when you bumped into something solid.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you sputtered quickly, a breathless laugh escaping your lips before Elodie gasped, pulling you back into the crowd of newcomers.

“You just bumped into an Illyrian!” she whispered urgently, her wide eyes darting over her shoulder.

Your gaze followed, landing on the broad backs of two towering Illyrian males. One had long, dark hair, loosely tied back, his wings flexing slightly in the night breeze. The other, taller with shadows whispering around him, his presence somehow more commanding– more intriguing. Your eyes lingered on him the longest, an odd tug pulling at your chest.

“Oops…” you shrugged, voice bright with laughter as Elodie tugged you further into the crowd, your chuckles mingling with the hum of the night.

You hadn’t felt this carefree in so long, hadn’t felt this light. As the lights of Velaris approached and the noise of music filled your ears you had a feeling that perhaps this was all going to work out okay.

That perhaps you had found somewhere you belonged after all.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel felt the brush of something against his side and turned slightly, pulling him from his conversation with cassian. They had both been sent to do border control, and had watched an array of individuals enter the court. It was his job as Spymaster after all, whether it be from the shadows or to stand in example at the borders he would vet the newcomers.

The night had been slow, no disturbances, no conflicts– uneventful. Just how he liked it. Only people seeking a fresh start had crossed into Night. He took pride in knowing so many chose his home for that new beginning. He was listening to Cassian as he gushed something about Nesta, when a light nudge to his side had pulled him from conversation.

They stood in the centre of the track that ran from the forest to the city, the two males, a stoic divide, as people flowed around them like a river parting. Except one– you.

You hadn’t moved around him.

Lightly, as though your thoughts had been tangled with the stars above, you had brushed against Azriel. His shadows hadn’t even warned him of your approach, and for a brief second, his breath caught at the softness of your touch. He turned, drawn to the quiet apology that lingered in the air, following the sound with his eyes.

And there you were.

You shimmered, wrapped in twilight, your skin glistening in the soft hues of the night sky as though the heavens themselves had adorned you. It was hard to distinguish where the night ended and you began, your form almost blending with the dark expanse around you.

But before he could speak, before he could even process what he was feeling, you disappeared into the crowd. A fleeting figure, gone in an instant, leaving him staring after you.

Azriel’s shadows hummed beside him, them too grappling with a need to know more.

He hadn’t caught your name, hadn’t had the chance to see your face clearly, but something about you had gripped him, held him in place. The faint scent of honey and peonies lingered in the air where you'd passed, stirring something deep within him.

Instead of words or answers, Azriel was left with a feeling—a pull. One he couldn't quite explain, but one he hoped to find an answer for.

a/n: Thank you for the wait...but here is the beginning of our favourite fairy and Azriel. I actually started writing this when I was visiting @writingcroissant in Edinburgh and we were sat in a little cafe till 10pm writing our little fics! It was so fun <3 (I'm still awaiting Crush...no pressure ;) ) I'm so glad it's finally finished. It was so hard to keep the stories this short, I feel like I could have easily explored more of fairy's travels in the courts (It wasn't all bad experiences I promise) lots of good memories too, so perhaps I will explore another time. But I hope you enjoyed the little connections to Azriel even though they still don't know each other yet tee hee

This is also dedicated to @searchingforbucky I'm pretty sure you said you were excited to read this/I said I would write something for you (If i have got it wrong, correct me) so here you are my lovely! Thank you for constant support.

Sorry to everyone that there isn't much Azriel and romance in this, Wings really has become a world of it's own at this point but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Please please please let me know what you want from these two next <3 - lottie xxx

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

Wings tags: @minaethrym

#wings universe #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #angst #azriel shadowsinger #fairy x azriel #fairy reader x azriel #fairy reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n

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luxurychristmaspudding · 7 months ago

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

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diamondzart · 3 months ago

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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

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notjustjavierpena · 9 months ago

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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 💖❤️

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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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."

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harkonnen-darkness · 6 months ago

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•

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jeding-png · 6 months ago

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Chapter 151 made me feel like a sadomasochist all over again.

OK. I was hoping to see Reynold in the new chapter, BUT NOT UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES—

"Reynold told me that you weren't the one who stole Ivonne's necklace."

And in that moment, Penelope realized that the wounds on Reynold that she had seen on him during lunch with the Eckharts in the orangery were not from training.

He seems so... small. I do not know. What he did is truly terrible. But I just remember the affair and the Duke's attitude towards all his children. And separately, his attitude towards Reynold killed me. Because Reynold will not blame his father, whom he loves and from whom he has never heard the words "I'm proud of you", for this.

Do you think only this moment will break your heart, which is already full of events? Other Tumblr users will quickly convince you otherwise.

The Duke has come to say 'goodbye' to Penelope, his immature daughter who is about to become an adult. Everything sounds great, so why so many cool colors? Why is there so much pain in their eyes again?

Because those words were not heard by the one who was waiting for them the most.

"That day I thought you just wanted jewels for your young heart. As a father I thought it right to forgive your transgressions."

"If I knew it would take six years to hear you call me father again..."

Real Penelope not only did not hear farewell from her father, she carried the stigma of a necklace thief until her 'death.'

Also, the duke says that he can't get the same look of Penelope out of his head the day Ichlis brought the protagonist of Normal Mode to the duchy.

"What... what expression in my face did you see?"

"You didn't make any facial expressions."

This chapter isn't just about Penelope and Duke's conversation either. It's also a reminder of how much Penelope and Siyeon are alike. How past and present life echo each other.

— Nothing will be solved if you are emotional.

— If you hold your breath until you suffocate, everything will pass.

"Dear... do you remember our first meeting?"

A tired and exhausted duke who is desperately searching for his missing daughter and that little girl from poverty who begs for some food.

As much as I love the Original Penelope... we really don't know much about this character. Except for general information or relying on the stories of other heroes. And it is her finale that breaks the heart.

The chapter is very full of events, but I can't tell more. It was as if I had taken all of Duke Eckhart's mood on me, fr.

#villains are destined to die #death is the only ending for a villainess #death is the only ending for the villainess #death is the only ending for the villain #manhwa #vadd #vadtd #vadd spoilers #vadd new chapter #penelope eckhart #og penelope eckhart #duke eckhart #reynold eckhart #there are so many mistakes in the post cuz I wanted to sleep damnit—#i shouldn't have read a new chapter when i'm exhausted.

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kiyomitakada · 2 months ago

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okay fuck it i went to a leonardo da vinci exhibit today and now i have a leonardo da vinci death note AU in my head because i am a parody of myself so you can fucking have it i guess what do i even do with this

light yagami: young genius polymath who is good at literally everything

unfortunately for him he is a foreigner in italia (his family immigrated) so the government is not letting him anywhere near their weaponry projects. instead he does art. yes light yagami painted the mona lisa no i do not take criticism i’m in too deep

his portraits are predictably amazing. smash hit. soon aristocracy from all over italy is contacting him to draw them and their mother. this means he doesnt even have time in the day to draw giant fuckoff warship designs anymore. what point is there to life, he sulks.

eventually he accepts a commission from one kyosuke higuchi! we’re italianizing him because i really don’t think this AU works otherwise but let’s call him higuchi anyway. higuchi is a fifty-something duke of something or other who has recently married one misa amane who is twenty-something (the same age as light). misa is the subject of the portrait because higuchi just loves his darling wife so much (read: they had a shotgun wedding and higuchi needs to keep up appearances)

light is like wow someone who isn’t white it’s been like five years. i kind of feel bad for her, this situation is very suspicious. hello miss amane if you’ll just sit down over there while i get my brushes

misa (seeing the first person who has been even remotely sympathetic to her absolutely horrific life, noticing he hasn’t tried to make any advances on her at all [this is a good thing]): I AM DRASTICALLY IN LOVE WITH YOU.

light: what

misa’s plan of seducing light predictably fails because he’s light, so she explains she has to get the fuck away from higuchi somehow

light is like okay well i am sorry to hear that but what does this have to do with me.

misa, tearing up: im a damsel in distress! also i can get you information about his court

light: whats his job

misa: financial advisor

light: oh fuck yes okay

so light’s plan is now to worm into the yotsuba court to get funding and hopefully sway them enough to let him pitch his cool weaponry ideas so he can Change The World. he does need income in general too (both for himself and his family; expected lifespan was way shorter then obviously).

misa’s plan is to kill higuchi somehow which will be much easier with light as backup she thinks

so. light packs up and moves to the yotsuba court which is thrilled to have THE light yagami portrait artist (i do more than portraits…) in their employ

oh yeah, misa mentions, the prince of the yotsuba court is kind of… weird

light: you could have told me this before

misa: ehe. dont worry about it!! it’s just um. he had a weird personality shift a few years ago? and now he refuses to wear royal attire. he always dresses like a peasant.

light: well it’s not like i’m going to be there to judge him on fashion am i.

THAT’S RIGHT. SIKE THIS IS AN ISEKAI NOW. yes L does remember light killing him <3 he (L) woke up in fifteenth century renaissance italy in a twenty-something-year-old body immediately after the heart attack. by some miracle he already knew italian.

so everything is going swell until one day light walks into his workshop to find the prince flipping through his notebook

light, sleep deprived: hey what the fu—i mean. uh. good morning your highness

there’s no need for that formality. call me L.

(…but your name doesn’t start with an L?) thank you, your highness L. um. sorry i know my handwriting’s messy.

on the contrary i find it completely readable, as long as one reads backwards and caesar shifts it three letters forward.

(oh SHIT he’s onto me) haha what are you talking about?

in fact i think this mechanical dragonfly contraption is rather ingenious.

oh aha that’s not important, just a passing fancy honestly

[ignoring him] if only you had some better way of providing torque, because as it stands the spring engine is extremely poorly designed.

what the fuck did you just say to me

[they end up physically fighting over the notebook because of course they do. meet cute!]

some more details:

ryuk is the patron light eventually gets after being in higuchi’s court for a bit

rem is higuchi’s personal assistant, who was disowned by her own royal-blooded family because her family sucks. she hates her job. if it weren’t for misa she’d probably be on the other side of the country by now

i don’t know where the wammy kids are. they’re definitely competing to be the heir to L’s throne but also they’re not related because there is no way that all the wammy kids (the whole orphanage of wammy kids) could have come from the same person. maybe some kind of insufferably high collar royal boarding school? did they even have those? help me

kiyomi and teru are both advisors in other courts (which are extremely corrupt, light seethes, in his perfect world there wont be any of those anymore) (you work for a court light) (thats different)

okay i’m done for today. you never know about tomorrow though. /threat.

[ @deathnotetober day 12: isekai ]

#i think theres so much you could do with canon L meeting au light but i cant fucking write renaissance dialogue so here you go #death note #light yagami #misa amane #l lawliet #our three major players!#lawlight #deathnotetober #higuchi is here too but i dont know if this is enough of a him post to warrant the tag #DISCLAIMER: i know nothing about leonardo da vinci outside of the exhibition i went to today #sorry for any historical inaccuracies #on the plus side if you spot any you probably have enough knowledge to write this

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thesunisatangerine · 1 year ago

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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

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bingwriterxo · 2 years ago

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

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twoduelsabers · 2 months ago

Text

push and pull

summary -> why don't his bloodied hands on your body feel wrong? they should be. he should feel wrong, horrifying and evil. so why doesn't he?

content warnings -> suggestive themes, slight nsfw, corruption, denial

her heavy breathing echoed throughout the cave, as she tried to calm her breath. warmness of qimir's body only reminded her further of how wrong this all was, how she shouldn't be here. on this planet, with him at all. she didn't even remember how exactly she ended up like this, under him, in his cot. they were fighting- or at least she wanted to think that they were. that she was, in fact, pushing him away.

now that she came down from the pleasure that he, as the first one in her life inflicted, doubts started tugging at her chest. the hands that were tangled in qimir's hair fell down her sides, and suddenly the cave's walls seemed very interesting. oh how she wished to be taken away by the cold waves that were heard outside, on the shore. away from him.

qimir's expression was unreadable, even when she reached into the force for help. without a word, he shifted off of her, putting his black trousers back on. his back was turned when he ran his hand through his disheleved locks, and her gaze involuntarily dropped to his scar. she winced slightly. she didn't notice it before.

as if he could feel her stare, qimir stood up, walking off in the direction of stacked crates in the corner of his makeshift house, not sparing a glance.

she propped herself up, looking for her top, spotting it thrown on the ground without care. she couldn't say she hadn't expected that, for him to just leave her as she was. the air around suddenly became cold, and she couldn't help but miss his warmth. she still felt a little sore, but she stood up, a little wobbly.

"where are you going?"

qimir's sudden question caught her off guard. when she looked up, he was gazing at her, his head tilted to the side. she didn't know what to say.

with no further explanation, qimir guided her to sit back down, searching for eye contact. but she was distant, constantly avoiding him. he didn't press firther. instead he gently brought the damp fabric he was holding to her skin, wiping away the evidence of their earlier indulgence.

she almost couldn't move, her bewildered gaze noticing the glass of water next to the bed, that he brought too. her brows were furrowed when he withdrew his hands. was this some form of manipulation? it had to be. he wouldn't just do that. she let her guard down before and she fought with herself not to make the same mistake again.

"why are you so surprised?"

his velvety voice cut through the cool air. there was a hint of something in it, that she couldn't quite catch.

silently, she put her clothes back on, not wanting to be so vulnerable. but she was transparent to him already, wasn't she?

"i..." she hesitated "...expected you to take what you wanted and and tell me to leave."

she admitted truthfully. on the contrary, something completely different happened.

there was a pause.

qimir wasn't one to mince words either, so he replied directly. the harshness in his tone was more of a habit than genuine hostility.

"is that what you think of me?"

the question seemed silly to her. of course she did. he was a sith. a merciless sith, that somehow...

for some reason spared her.

"i- i did think that."

yet she wasn't so certain anymore. his attentive caresses were screaming otherwise.

qimir looked at her curiously.

"if you have, why did you let me take you here?"

she opened her mouth, just to close it seconds later. she didn't know herself... there was something about him that lured her in, like a prey. something that made her give herself to him, even if it would be ar her own cost.

or maybe, it was the promises that he had made. ones of freedom and acceptance. something the jedi would never give her if they knew her views on the force. if they knew what grew deep below the surface, rooted in her body. something, that they have inflicted.

even when she almost didn't know him at all, she had a feeling that he would understand her.

"i wanted..." she trailed off. "i wanted closure."

but it wasn't the entire truth. submerging oneself in pleasure and vulnerability, was a forbidden fruit for the jedi, one that she was deprived of for her whole life. and qimir had offered it to her.

he sensed her hesitance, uncertainty, fear.

his knuckles brushed against her cheek, and he tilted her head to look at him, his gaze unwavering.

"what are you afraid of?"

she couldn't look away anymore. run, like she always did.

"our paths are different."

yet she wasn't so sure of it anymore- it sounded like a reminder, but not for him. for herself.

a hint of a smirk tugged at qimir's lips.

"are they?" he questioned. "we are both doomed."

he pointed out, his hand idly tracing her jawline.

everything about him, his voice, his soft skin, and warm brown eyes, made her lean into his touch.

then a bitter thought appeared in her head.

"is this your way of ensuring i won't betray you?"

he let out a chuckle, at the remains of her self-restraint.

"i don't think i have to worry about that."

and he was right. with what he had shown her, what he made her feel...

"no." her answer came quick both because it was true, but also out of...fear. what would he do if she chose to leave?

he hummed in satisfaction. his thumb carresed her lower lip, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she can taste the blood on his hands. same hands that he used to make her see the force itself.

"you kill with such ease." the words that gnawed at her throat, finally left her lips. she stilled after she realised what she just said. that was a wrong move.

but qimir didn't seem affected.

"you knew that before you came to me. have you forgotten who i am?"

she looked down. she wanted to. there was so much contrast within him. how cruel he could be, and how tenderly he chose to treat her.

"no."

her reply came, same as before.

"then why question me now?"

her gaze involuntarily dropped to his full lips when he spoke. she couldn't escape him. and what was worse, she couldn't escape herself.

a smirk appeared on qimir's face when he noticed her looking at his mouth. without a word, he used his hand under her chin to pull her close.

"that's what i thought."

he sounded pleased as he pressed his lips against hers again. and same as before, she didn't pull away. he had her wrapped around his finger.

his first kiss was gentle, just like his demeanor towards her, attentive and careful. so much so it solved, at least temporarily, her inner turmoil. and once she let him do more, parted her lips, he used it, as if he was just waiting for her to give in. his hand moved from it's place under her chin to her neck, firmly enough to keep her in place, but not to make her struggle for breath. not yet, at least.

he urged her backwards, back onto the blankets, his movements decisive, and he followed behind, hoovering over her.

she wasn't dumb, knowing where this would lead. she gathered all of her will to pull away.

"qimir-" her breath was short. "we just-"

she was cut short, by his lips pressing fleetingly to hers, before descending to kiss her throat.

"you can handle it." he hummed against her skin, and she believed him.

satisfied, he let his hand trail down her body, enjoying the softness of her skin, before dipping between her legs.

she couldn't help but press her thighs together, still sensitive from earlier, and he smiled against her. he planted wet kisses on his collarbone and chest. as if trying to prove something to her, he used his knee to separate her legs.

it wasn't long before he left her trembling in his arms again. her eyes were watery from the intensity of the moment.

qimir looked down at her, taking in the sight of her dishelved form. he felt a sense of satisfaction, knowing how far he could push her. he gently brushed away a strand of hair that fell across her face, his touch surprisingly tender.

"alright?"

she nodded, but the same doubts as before gnawed at the pit of her stomach, replacing the warm, fuzzy feeling.

qimir didn't seem to notice, and even if he did, he didn't mention it.

she stayed still, with his arm around her waist. she felt dirty in a sense- there was no going back now. the jedi wouldn't take her in, wouldn't forgive her what she let herself do and feel.

she couldn't look back anymore.

being raised in the temple meant never changing your beliefs nor trust.

and now?

qimir's breathing became even after a long while that felt like hours.

she was the one fearing being left alone before, but the roles have changed now- holding her breath, she sneaked out of his embrace, desperately needing air, that isn't filled with his presence.

her ship was wrecked. she couldn't go there. but surely, surely if she focused, she could take qimir's. it wouldn't be difficult to just break in there...

leaving him for dead on this forsaken planet.

she should've done so. for all the jedi he had killed, for all the damage he has done-

yet she couldn't make herself to do so. his dark mesmerising eyes, and bloody hands that he commited so much evil with, were engraved in her mind, not letting her take another step.

or maybe it was qimir himself, who's presence appeared behind her.

of course he'd find her. she swallowed, and forced herself to sound firm.

"am i not allowed to leave?"

she swore she could see him tilt his head stupidly-

"leave or run?" he sounded calm, despite probably knowing her intentions.

she clenched her fists, cursing him.

"i needed to clear my head."

he crossed his arms. stubborn as ever, yet he could see through her. so much anger, disappointment with the order. just like his younger self...

"clear your head from what? from me?"

"maybe." she huffed, finally facing him. "you're in there too often." he could, and have, in fact, get into her head- during fighting and...not only that, seemingly.

qimir didn't deny it. she was intriguing, from the moment they fought for the first time in the ruined temple. her suppressed emotions, that spilled, when she almost buried him alive.

"yet you let me inside of more than just your head."

he remarked.

she tensed. oh, yes, she has, twice today already.

amusement flickered in qimir's eyes, and he moved closer, predator-like.

"and you enjoyed it." his voice was slow and deliberate, making sure she heard every sylabe.

she couldn't even deny that, the noises she made, and pleas she whispered, testifying against her. she took in a breath.

"your point?"

qimir took in her angry, helpless form. she had the resilience of a jedi, that was for sure. but it was only a matter of time until he breaks it down.

"my point is, you want me. you enjoy being with me. why try to run?"

there it was. the confrontation she wanted to avoid throughout all her years of being a jedi. she was raised to be pure, perfect and unwavering. but she wasn't. there must be something wrong with her, right?

she didn't feel like there was in his presence. she felt as if she found one of her own. but still...

"im not used to..." she gestured between them. "this."

qimir's eyes continued to study her, his gaze never leaving her face. he could sense her uneasiness, her uncertainty, practically taste her internal battle- the struggle between her jedi past, and the newfound emotions.

"to what? being desired? being wanted?"

her mouth went dry as he openly admitted that he desired her. this couldn't possibly be wrong, by how it made her feel.

"no need to be afraid. you're not with the order anymore. you're with me."

qimir's voice was laced with honey and as persuasive as ever. how could she say no to these chocolate eyes? how could he be bad, when he made her feel so good?

cold and warm tides in the ocean mixed together, creating waves that crashed onto the shore. waves that over time carved the rocks, that were able to make them fall.

and so have they.

masterlist

#manny jacinto #manny jacinto x reader #qimir the acolyte #qimir x reader #star wars qimir #the acolyte fanfiction #the stranger x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #qimir the stranger

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bat-mom-writer · 1 month ago

Text

Little Fever

Reader(mom) x bat boys (Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne)

Summery: You catch a fever one night, all of your sons want to stay by your side.

(I don't own any DC characters)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was making herself coffee, the quiet hum of the machine a loud background noise in the otherwise silent penthouse. The digital clock on the microwave blinked 3:14 AM, a time that was both too late for insomnia and too early for the beginnings of a new day. The moon cast a soft, pale glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the gleaming chrome surfaces with a cool, blue light. She wrapped her hands around the warm mug, the heat seeping through her skin and into her bones, a stark contrast to the chill of the room. Her eyes felt heavy, but she blinked away the fatigue, knowing sleep would be elusive tonight.

The first signs of the fever had appeared just hours earlier, a sudden warmth that spread through her body like a wildfire. She had tried to ignore it, chalking it up to the heat of the city outside, but when the chills began, she knew she couldn't hide from it anymore. The boys, her makeshift family, were all tucked in their beds, oblivious to the battle she was fighting. She took a sip of the steaming drink, letting the caffeine and warmth wash over her, hoping it would be enough to clear the fog in her head.

The door to the kitchen slid open and Dick, the eldest, stepped in, his eyes immediately finding hers. He was dressed in his nightclothes, his hair a mess from sleep. "Oh, it's you," he said with a sigh of relief, probably expecting to find Bruce in his usual nighttime patrol. "What are you doing up so early? And making coffee?"

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, her voice a whisper, not wanting to disturb the silence of the night.

"I bet you couldn't, with the racket this thing makes," he says, gesturing to the coffeemaker with a smirk as he crosses the room to join her. His bare feet make almost no sound on the cool marble floor, a testament to his years of stealth training. He takes the mug from her hand and sets it aside gently. "You know, caffeine isn't exactly the best cure for what ails you." His tone is light, teasing, but there's a thread of concern in his eyes that she can't miss.

"I know," she says, managing a weak smile. "But sometimes a girl needs her vices."

Dick's smile fades as he feels her forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up," he says, his voice suddenly serious. "You should be in bed."

"I'm fine," she insists, though her words are met with a skeptical look from Dick. "It's just a little fever."

Dick's eyes narrow, and he crosses his arms. "A little fever can turn into a big problem if you don't take care of yourself. You know Bruce would have a fit if he knew you were up making coffee at this hour."

"Well, let's not tell him, then," she jokes weakly, though she knows he's right. "But really, I'll be okay."

Dick shakes his head, a stubborn set to his jaw that mirrors his father's. "I'll be the judge of that," he says, already turning to a drawer and pulling out a thermometer. The plastic stick reflects the moonlight as he snaps it open. "Open up."

With a sigh, she complies, allowing him to slide the cool tip under her tongue. The digital numbers on the display flicker to life as it reads her temperature. Dick's expression tightens as he looks at the results. "101 degrees," he murmurs. "That's not 'just a little fever'."

"Okay, okay," she concedes, leaning against the counter for support. "Maybe I'll go lie down for a bit."

Dick nods firmly. "That's more like it. You need to rest." He takes her by the elbow and gently guides her towards the staircase that leads to the upper level of the penthouse. "Come on, I'll help you to bed."

As they ascend the stairs, she can feel the heat radiating off her body, each step a small victory against the wave of dizziness that threatens to overwhelm her. She's grateful for Dick's steady presence beside her, his grip tight but reassuring. When they reach the bedroom, he helps her into the cool, crisp sheets, the fabric a heavenly balm against her feverish skin. He pulls the comforter up to her chin, yhe room spins slightly, but she squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on the comfort he's providing.

Jason, the second oldest, appeared in the doorway, his eyes bleary with sleep. "What's going on?" he asked, his gaze immediately finding her.

"Just a little fever," Dick said, his hand on her forehead, checking the temperature once more. "I'll get you some Tylenol and water."

"Thanks," she mumbled, her eyelids drooping as she settled into the pillows.

With a nod, Dick returned out of the room, leaving Jason with a silent promise to return soon. She felt the mattress shift as he flopped down beside her, his body heat adding to the warmth of the bed. He buried his face into the pillow and muttered, "It is too bloody early."

Her smile was faint. "It's okay. Just go back to sleep."

"And leave you in the hands of the nurse?" Jason quipped. He sat up, his gaze never leaving hers. "Not on my watch."

The room was quiet for a moment, filled only with the sound of her shallow breathing. She could feel the warmth from his body and the gentle pressure of his hand on her forehead. "All I'm saying is, did you have to get a fever at three in the morning?"

A faint chuckle escaped her lips, the sound foreign to the stillness. "I'll try to schedule it better next time," she murmured.

Tim, the third oldest, slipped into the room, his eyes scanning the scene. He was dressed in his usual attire, a simple t-shirt and shorts. "Why are you all up so early?" he asked, his voice groggy with sleep as he rubbed his eyes.

Dick passes Tim at the door, a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol in hand. "Mom's got a fever," he says quietly. Tim's eyes widen with concern, and he quickly moves to the bedside. "How bad is it?"

"It's not too high," Dick reassures him. "But she needs to rest and stay hydrated." He opens the bottle and shakes out two pills, holding the water to her mouth as she swallows them. The cool liquid is a relief to her parched throat. "I've got it," he says to Tim. "You go back to bed."

Tim nods, but instead of leaving, he pulls out the chair from the vanity and sits down, crossing his legs under him. "I'm good," he says, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'll stay."

The concern in Tim's gaze is unmistakable, and she feels a warmth in her chest that has nothing to do with the fever. She tries to protest, but the words die in her throat. These boys, her makeshift sons, had grown into such capable, caring young men. They had all suffered their fair share of pain and loss, yet here they were, in the early hours of the morning, worried about her.

"Jason, we're trying to keep her temperature down, out of the bed," Dick says firmly, his tone a mix of affectionate exasperation.

"Fine," Jason groaned loudly, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation. He reluctantly climbed off the bed, allowing the cool air to wash over her. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the loss of his warmth, but she knew it was for the best.

Without another word, Jason had plopped himself down on Tim's lap in the chair, a cheeky grin on his face. "If I can't keep mom warm, "then I'll just warm Tim up instead."

Tim's eyes widened in surprise, and he tried to push Jason off, his legs flailing. "Get off me! Your butt is crushing me!"

Jason just chuckled and tightened his grip. "Feel the warmth young Timmy, let it envelop you like a feverish embrace."

"I can't breathe," he gasped out with a grin.

"Good, then I'm doing my job," Jason said, his voice mischievous. Despite his playfulness, she could see the genuine worry in his eyes as he looked at her.

The door creaked open once more, and Damian, the youngest, peered in, his dark hair sticking up in all directions. "What's with all the noises?" he grumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "It's the middle of the night."

Dick looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in a silent gesture of comfort. "Mom's not feeling well," he said softly.

Damian's eyes grew round with concern, and he padded over to the bed "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice quieter than she'd ever heard it.

"Just a bit of a fever," she said, trying to keep the weariness from her voice.

Damian looked at Jason and Tim, his expression unreadable. "And those two?" he asked, nodding at the chair.

"Brotherly love," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite her fever, she couldn't help the fondness that filled her chest.

Tim's face grew red, his efforts to push Jason off him doubling in intensity. "It doesn't fell like it," he gasped. Dick couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of his brothers.

"Okay, okay," Dick said, standing up and pulling Jason to his feet with ease. "Up you go, you're not exactly the warm compress type."

Jason shot him a look but allowed himself to be removed, stretching dramatically before settling on the edge of the bed. "Fine, but I'm not going anywhere," he said, his eyes still on her.

Tim took a deep, exaggerated breath and let it out with a dramatic sigh. "Ah, the sweet taste of oxygen,"

The room filled with chuckles, the tension easing slightly. Dick handed her the water, and she took a grateful sip, the coolness spreading down her throat.

"Thanks, guys," she said, her voice still weak but filled with affection. "But really, you all should get back to sleep."

"You're right, we should go to sleep." Jason said, his voice filled with mock defeat. But instead of leaving, he flopped back on the bed, his body sprawling out in a way that was both endearing and alarmingly similar to Bruce's when he was trying to be comfortable.

"Jason," she warned, but it was too late. He had already pulled the blankets up to his chin, his eyes closing with feigned innocence. The room was filled with the sound of her own laughter and the boys' smothered giggles.

"Well, if he's staying, so am I," Tim said, his voice a mix of amusement and stubbornness. He lays down at her feet, his body curling up into a ball, his head resting on the edge of the bed. Damian, not to be outdone, slid in beside Jason, .

"Fine," Dick sighed, a small smile playing on his lips despite the early hour and the seriousness of the situation. "But if her fever doesn't break soon, we're all gotta leave, okay?"

Jason mumbled an agreement, his eyes already half-closed, while Tim nodded solemnly. Damian perfectly squeezed between Jason and Dick. For a moment, she felt a pang of sadness that Bruce wasn't here to share in this odd, yet comforting moment, but she quickly pushed it aside. This was their own brand of family, their own way of supporting each other.

#batman #bat family #bat boys #dc universe #dick grayson #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake #Bruce's wife #bruce wayne x mom reader #bruce wayne #bat mom

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lampiridaes · 8 months ago

Note

HIIII

Your finally open again 🫶🫶🫶

Can i request a tsukasa, rui and nene x reader (separate) and the plot is something like the song “something stupid” more specifically the verse “ the time is right your perfume fills my head the stars are read and oh the nights so blue, and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you “

Thank you xxxx I’ve missed youuu

♬ now playing: "i love you..."

-> saying you love them so suddenly, so unexpectedly... are you trying to give them a heart attack?

★ — chars ; tsukasa , rui , nene

★ — notes ; HELLO H :333 finally writing this. VERY SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!!! lowkey got rlly excited to write this then BAAM. SCHOOL WORK EVERYWHERE.!!!! also listen to the song on loop as i was writing (michael buble's cover ft reese witherspoon bc i LOVE michael buble's voice) and it got me in the mood!!! I HOPE U LIKE READING THIS AS MUCH AS I LOVED WRITING IT!!!

★ — warnings ; open endings for all of them (nothing rlly insane lol) , otherwise none!

★ — taglist ; @asherenjoysart , @nogenderbee , @akitosheart , @nenes-numberonefan , @mintchocaur

affiliated with @virtualbookstore ★

★ track one: tenma tsukasa

the day before, tsukasa had invited you to go with this festival with him. there'd be lights, games, prizes... just about any other regular festival.

and yet, here you are with him. people around you are chattering, 'you won!' sound effects can be heard blaring around the entire area.

... surely, if you dropped the 'L' word, he wouldn't hear it.

"...i love you, tsukasa."

a soft yet sad smile can be seen on your expression. you really just said that for no reason, didn't you? how silly.

well, that was what you thought until tsukasa turned back at you, with this bright red blush on his face. yep, definitely heard you.

"...you do?"

this might be the most quiet you've heard from the boy. you were surprised he could even say something like that in such a meek voice.

it's all up to you now. do you want to admit it, change your friendship with him, or would you rather deny it and go back to square one?

★ track two: kamishiro rui

like every other day, you go hang out with rui as he's working on robots for a future show. as always, he appreciates your company. you're a good friend to him, and you also don't touch his works in progress without letting him know.

... also, you tend to ask him questions as he works. not too many to distract him, of course. he finds that rather cute, whether you believe it or not.

he also finds you keeping him company endearing, making sure he doesn't feel lonely... and it seems like you have similar feelings.

"i love you."

is what you thought you thought to yourself, but when rui looked back at you with a startled look on your face, you suddenly realize that you, in fact, said it out loud.

"i meant- i meant your inventions! your work... it's really impressive, rui."

great save there. he totally believed that. especially with how much you stammered.

"oh, that's disappointing. i was about to say the same back to you."

rui had that signature smirk of his, though this one... you could easily tell he lacks the regular cool, level-headedness it usually has.

whatever his intention was, it ended up making you blush in the process. this guy is really going to be the death of you, isn't he?

★ track three: kusanagi nene

you really can't shut your mouth, can you? the original plan was to simply help nene memorize her lines, making sure everything sounded smooth.

yet now you found yourself gazing at her adoringly. one thing led to another, and you just had to tell her that-

"i love you."

it was as if time stopped. you cover your mouth with your hand, gasping with surprise. nene wasn't any different—she was in total disbelief. and if that wide-eyed look on her face told you anything...

"...it's the next character's lines. i'm just... trying to help, yeah?"

the awkward smile on your face didn't make your words any more believable. not to mention, nene has already scanned over the script, she already knows what the actual line is!

"...i love you too."

... that wasn't nene's line. mostly because that wasn't even the other line to begin with, but when nene said that...? oddly suspicious, in the best way possible.

when you finally have the courage to gaze at her once more, you can even catch a glimpse of her subtle yet gentle smile.

"that's my line, after yours."

in a way, she wasn't wrong.

#virtualnetwork #tsukasa tenma #tsukasa tenma x reader #nene kusanagi x reader #nene kusanagi #rui kamishiro #rui kamishiro x reader #pjsk #pjsk x reader #project sekai #project sekai x reader #★ — you are my literature

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livesworthlivingau · 2 months ago

Text

Behind the Vale Chapter 29

ISAT/Two Hats spoilers below! CW: Screaming, Biting, Choking, Suffocating, Mentions of Death and Suicide, Sleep Paralysis

{You step back inside after a moment, closing the door behind you. You lean your back against it, sighing out defeatedly. That sure didn't go very well.}

"Nille? Is everything... Alright?" {You turn to see Za standing there, Belle in tow, and Dile still sitting at the otherwise empty table.}

"I'm... not really sure, to be honest. I think they both just gotta cool off for the night. Vale's staying at the Inn for tonight. Did Frin say anything? And where's Bonnie?" {You ask, realizing they were missing.}

"They stormed off back to their room after you three ran out, I guess they were upset their big dinner was ruined..."

"A-And what happened with Siffrin? He just stormed off too after they came back in, they wouldn't say a word to us!"

"There was a little, uhh... misunderstanding. Like I said, I think they just gotta cool off. I better go check on Bonnie though, I'll help clean up after."

"Oh don't worry about that, We'll take care of it. I'll check on Sif in a minute then, let him cool off a bit first."

"Thanks y'all." {You give an appreciate sigh of relief, you've got enough on your plate tonight as it is. You quickly head upstairs to Bonnie's room, tapping your knuckle on the door.}

"Bonnie? You okay in there?" {You ask before pressing your ear to the door. You hear sniffling and soft sobs behind it. You slowly open the door, peeking inside to see them kneeling next to the open... window... Oh crab...}

"Bonbon... You okay sweetie?..." {You walk over hesitantly... They didn't hear all of that, did they? You place a hand on their shoulder, only for them to pull away. They scooch further from you, still sniffling and rubbing at their eyes, the usual tactic for when they didn't want to talk to you.}

"What did you hear?..." {They flinch at that, face still buried in their arms as they cried.}

"Why did they hurt Frin?!" {They finally lift their head up as they shouted in response.}

"It's... complicated, I know it's a lot, and I'm sorry you had to hear all that, but it's gonna be oka-"

"NO! I DON'T WANT IT TO JUST BE OKAY! I DON'T WANT FRIN TO GET HURT ANYMORE!" {They scream at the top of their lungs. You panic a bit, looking back at the closed door, then quickly shutting the window.}

"Bonnie please, keep your voice down at least!"

"WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING THEM?! WHY DO YOU AND FRIN CARE SO MUCH ABOUT TH-?!" {You panic more, quickly grabbing them to cover their mouth.}

"Bonnie! We'll talk to everyone soon but please just hold o-OUCH!" {You cry out as they bite your hand, quickly pulling away from them. Before you can do anything else they're already darting for the door, yanking it open and rushing out.}

"BONNIE!" {You cry out, quickly chasing after them.}

-------------------------------------------------------------------

[Your senses slowly return to you, as well as a feeling of calm, peace, content. A stark contrast to the day prior, but a welcome one. Your dream unfolds before you, sitting on cool grass, leaning against a large tree, staring forward at a beautiful sunset... and Nille next to you to share it, hand in hand.]

[You let out a shaky sigh. You know this isn't real, you know you don't deserve this... which only makes you grip her hand tighter, as if making sure it won't slip through your fingers. She gives a light laugh, perhaps the most beautiful sound you can remember...]

"Afraid I'm gonna run off on you, Vay?" [You hold back whatever tears you feel coming. You lay your head on her shoulder.]

"That's usually my job, isn't it~?" [You tease playfully, trying to hold it together and savor this fantasy you've concocted for yourself.]

"Might be, but I always come running after you." [The sun continues to dip lower, finally touching the horizon.]

"Hey, Vay... Mind looking up at me?" [You hesitate... your mind isn't this kind to you, there must be something horrible waiting for you if you look, right?... But what if... You slowly turn to look up at them, looking like you might be bracing yourself.]

"It's something nice, I promise." [She swears as you look into her smiling face. She looks deep into your eyes, her cheeks darkening just a tad. Your own darken in turn, especially once her hand meets your chin, gently lifting it further.]

[She leans closer. Your heart starts to pick up. You know this isn't real... but in this moment, you're not sure that you care. You slowly close your eyes, leaning in as well. We'll never experience this for real, so why not live out the fantasy in a dream? It's the best we can hope for...]

[Your lips touch. It's warm, soft, your heart burns and aches, time seems to fall away as it happens... It's not real, it can never be real, but there's nothing in this world you want more... Eventually she pulls away with a sigh. You keep your eyes closed, you hardly move, you're just trying to hold on to that feeling so desperately.]

"So... That's what the kiss of a murderer is like~." [Your chest stings as your heart breaks... Right on cue... Of course your mind had to make it hurt as much as possible. You keep your eyes closed, you don't want it to get any worse.]

"That's what you are, isn't it?" [You feel a hand grab the back of your head, gripping your hair tightly and tugging. The hand doesn't feel like Nille's it feels... wooden. Your eyes shoot open again as you're yanked back. That same thing that tormented you last time was before you again, wearing that horrifying mockery of Nille's face. It leans uncomfortably close to you.]

"That's all you're ever going to be to us." [The sky, the sun, the tree, the grass, it had all vanished. Around you now was the same lightless void from before. Suspended in a circle above you were.. masks on strings. The faces of what was almost your family.]

"MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER!" [They all cry out.]

"No no no no! Not you again! I thought I took care of you last time!" [You shout, trying to kick it away and struggle in their grasp. The being barely reacting to your movements as the mask of Nille slides up off its head, suspended on its own strings as it joins the circle above. Left behind, staring into your soul, was that sick, twisted mask of your own face. The one it pulled out of your chest before.]

"We're going to need me for a long, long time." [Cracks appear in the corner of the mask's eyes, running down the face like tears.]

"Especially since we know how she'll feel about us now..."

"Shut up! I don't need you!! Get out of my blinding head!!!"

"She's going to hate us. They all will."

"MURDERER!" [The masks above cry out once more, Nille's joining in this time. The facade's grip on your head tightens as it pulls your gaze towards the masks above.]

"None of them will want anything to do with us."

"I don't need you to tell me that! So what do I need you for?!" [The mockery of your face leans in uncomfortably close as it speaks softly into your ear.]

"You'll break without me to hide behind. You're not strong enough to face them alone." [You clench your jaw, feeling their presence hovering just beside you. The hair on the back of your neck standing up.]

"What good are you if I can't sit through as single blinding meal with them all?!"

"You didn't embrace me, then. You tried to feel, to make it work. Too weak to become numb."

"And what good is a life if we're just left as a husk?!"

"We always were one." [It pulls away, holding you in front of it as a blank, star shaped mask descends from the void into view. It dangles between the two of you, covering them from view. You freeze upon seeing it... you're filled with absolute rage as you're shown this damned face again. You practically let out a growl, clenching your fist and suddenly slamming your hand into it, SMASH!!!]

[The mask of what once was shatters, the pieces scattered to the void, some left upon the ground like the star you ripped from your chest and left for Stardust to find... You stare at them for a moment before it's other hand suddenly wraps around your throat. It clamps down as you kick and struggle, gasping fruitlessly for air. Your face begins to darken, your vision goes blurry, and just before you pass out it loosens its grip to let you fill your aching lungs, then pulls away after another moment.]

"There's three paths ahead of us. First, you wear me to withstand what's coming, salvage some kind of life with them, with Her. Second, you fail, fall, perhaps die trying to take the consequences unprotected, and we end up alone in the dark." [You finally catch your breath, just dangling defeatedly in its grip.]

"... and the third?" [The end of your whip suddenly falls heavily into view, along with the sound of something snapping. Your whip has been tied into the shape of a noose, with the mask of your Stardust hanging from it. The mask of your face cracks some more, the fissures forming into a desperate grin.]

"We make them forget~." [You freeze... You stare at the noose before you... Your eyes dart to it, then the creature. You quickly grab the noose, managing to get it around that blinging thing's neck! In response, Strings, many-strong and pulling tight, wrap around your own throat in equal measure. Despite this it continues to 'speak'.]

"We've done it before, we can do it again. He cares so blinding much about us that he might even agree to it~." [You choke out for air, feeling those strings tighten on your throat as you tighten on its. You don't care, you keep pulling tighter as you only feel your throat tighten in turn.]

"I am a part of you, as much so as any other. Finish the job if you want, when he finds out we never woke up he'll loop back anyways~." [It leans closer to you, filling your slowly fading vision as your lungs burned even more, the strings tightening even further.]

"That's probably what you want, isn't it? With all that sleep medicine you put in us." [It's lying, it must be... It's just a dream, and we've defeated it once before... You use all of your draining strength to keep going tighter and tighter... and... tighter... The dream fades. Sensation, sight, feeling... all... going... away...]

[Your eyes snap open. You're in bed. Just a dream after all... Yet you can't move... You can't breathe! Your eyes dart around as you try desperately to move your limp form. All you can manage is to let out a frightened almost whimper in your panic.]

[As your eyes dart back and forth, you finally lock onto it... No... no no no no no no! It's standing there, in the corner. The Facade is watching you with your own face, eyes that should be yours alone, the cracks still forming that sick grin. It puts a finger to its fissure of a mouth, hushing you as it stares. You feel pins and needles all over your body. You still can't breathe, you still can't move!]

[As you stare in horror, waiting for it to act, it suddenly vanishes with one more blink. You finally let out a pained gasp for air, shooting to sit up in bed. You grip your throat as it burns, still taking deep gasps for air as you frantically look around to ensure it was truly gone... You're awake now, and it's gone, yet... You saw it while you were awake... You're not sure if you'll ever truly be without it, now...]

Yet another chapter done with the help of @tactical-shrubbery and stars blind it y'all, these last few chapters (and likely the next few) are RUINING ME!!! I should have the next chapter out by the end of the day (EST) as well, so keep an eye out~.

#lwlau #lives worth living au #isat au #isat spoilers #isat fanfic #isat #in stars and time fanfic #two hat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #isat two hats #btvau #behind the vale

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