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superhoeva · 4 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘: 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄

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⬩ pairing(s) sexologist!francisco "frankie" morales x college student!female!reader

⬩ warning(s) very inaccurate scientific study methods (this could not happen in real life without someone going to jail, i think lol), language, flirting, sexual tension, scientific talk about genitals, safe sex practices, pcos (mentioned), endometriosis (mentioned), commentary on unbalanced male domination of sexual spaces, Spanish nicknames/pet names, smut smut smut, somewhat-guided masturbation, reader hs nipple pircings, dirty talk, mdom-ish!frankie, pussy drunk!frankie, consent checks, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), big hands!frankie, bodily fluids, doctor/patient relations, the whole "we want to but we can't but we might have to anyways" kind of vibes, some aftercare, pov switches (reader's pov uses "dr. morales. frankie's pov uses "frankie.")

⬩ author's note happy new year! starting 2024 off with a bang (literally, ha) of a new series. as mentioned before, this was inspired by an audio series created by anonyfun35 on the erotic audio site quinn (very much recommend the series and entire site if you're looking for more ethical alternatives to regular porn and able to spare a few extra dollars!), which is absolutely heavenly. frankie's been sitting in my heart recently after rewatching triple frontier, and now here we are! here is chapter one, as promised, and i can not wait to share the rest of this series with you all! (p.s. i know some people have asked to be tagged in this, but i no longer do tag lists. for those who want to keep up with new chapter, i'd recommend following the au: the study tag or just check back here regularly! heeds the warnings. let me know if i've forgotten any. drink your water. love you and hope you enjoy. <3

⬩ word count 6.4k(!)

The lobby is suspiciously comfortable for a doctor’s office. As if the chair you’ve been shuffling back and forth in for the past five minutes. You’ve decided to focus on the mint green tint of the walls to steady yourself. Your breath moves in and out of you in quivering streams, and you have to keep running your tongue over the flesh of your bottom lip to stop your teeth from drawing blood.

A sweet-looking brunette types away at the lobby desk, and she sends you a quick smile when you accidentally catch her eye. You hope the grin you send back doesn’t look as pitiful as it felt.

Straight across from you, there’s a poster of a vagina. Vibrant and contrasting nicely with the color of the wall, it labels each part of the genitalia with pretty, curvy letters. You read over each of them, laughing a little when you get to the clitoris. Maybe you should hang a copy of the poster over your headboard. Just to make it a little easier for those who need it.

Your eyes trail left. Another poster, this one with photos of different types of barrier methods for safe sex; on it is everything from internal condoms to dental dams and a short explanation for when it’s best to use them. You study it with a little more intent than the last one and become so engrossed that you don’t hear the receptionist at the desk until her third calling of your name.

You jolt a little, looking over at her with widened eyes.

“Sorry, yes?”

She smiles at the look on your face, shaking her head.

“It’s alright,” she promises, “that stuff’s actually pretty interesting, right? I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Morales is ready to start whenever you are.”

Ignoring the way your heart jumps a little, you rise from your seat with the best grin you can manage.

“Alright,” you nod, gaze flickering down a nearby hallway, “is it–”

“All the way down and to the right. Can’t miss it. And feel free to let me know if you need anything, before or after. I’m here for whatever you need me for.”

There’s something genuine in her voice that lets your shoulders relax. You smile again, and it feels real this time. “I think I’m okay right now, but I appreciate it, I do. Thank you.”

“No worries. Oh, and honey,” she pauses, taking a second to leave her seat and trot over in front of you. “Remember to breathe. Dr. Morales is a sweetheart, I promise. Wouldn’t work here if that wasn’t the case.”

Melanie the tag on her name reads. She gives you one last wink before returning to her desk. A warm feeling fills you nicely as you watch her for a few more seconds.

Melanie is nice. You like Melanie. If you could, you’d stay and talk to her for a while, but no sense in keeping the doctor waiting.

As you head down the hallway, the walk feels like it lasts half a second and a thousand years all at once. Time here seems to work a little differently, but maybe that’s only because of how unbelievably fucking nervous you are.

The room is at the end of the hall on the right. Just like Melanie said. The knock you give the door is softer than you mean for it to be, but it pulls open before you get the chance to knock again.

“Hi, welcome. Come on in, please.”

Well, fuck. Fuck.

The first thing you notice isn’t the fluff of hair on his head, or his big, doe, brown eyes–it’s his voice. A deep, pleasing rasp that’s soft and stirring, all of it combining into a sensation that sits snugly right in the middle of your chest. And legs.

You take a second to swallow the spit in your mouth.

“Hi,” you all but mumble back, swallowing again. God, you hope he doesn’t hear the sharp exhale that leaves your nose when he steps to the side with a smile. Your eyes blow up, big and wide, but only for a second as you swiftly compose yourself. You’re here for a scientific study, damn it, not to gape at how fucking gorgeous Dr. Morales is. Even though he is fucking gorgeous. “You’re Dr. Morales?”

“Yes,” he answers effortlessly, and you bite your tongue when he rattles off your name. His voice. You barely remember to nod, and he smiles. Now that you think about it, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he opened the door, and it’s already building a bit of sweat at the back of your neck. “It’s nice to meet you finally. Been seeing your name on all the paperwork, so it’s nice to put a face to it. Especially a face as nice as yours.”

You swallow, again, and can’t hold back the grin his words bring. “Thank you and uh… likewise.”

Dr. Morales pauses and your heart stops at the way his face drops. Then his eyebrows raise slightly like he’s impressed, and he takes in a long breath himself. A gulp of air finally refills your lungs when his smile returns, more of a smirk now.

“Thank you.”

The two words are followed by a small silence. You take it as a chance to look around. Dr. Morales takes it as a chance to glance you over, and his teeth bite into the side of his mouth at the dress you’re wearing. It’s airy and short, stopping just above the middle of your thigh.

He sniffs, clearing his throat.

“Well, if you want to go ahead and get seated, I think it’s best we just start with some introductions to break some ice. Then a short discussion about the study itself, boundaries, things like that. And I know you answered a lot of those types of questions in your application, but I think more authentic answers can come about when speaking, you know, face-to-face. Plus it’ll give us both the chance to get to know each other a little better. Relax before we get to the actual… activities for today’s session.”

You blink.

“You’re doing the… the stuff?”

Dr. Morales blinks.

“Yes,” he starts slowly, eyebrows furrowing. “I’m sorry, was that not what you were expecting? I-It’s in the forms you signed, though I guess it is pretty easy to glance over if you don’t know where to look. But if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, I completely understand. We also have some female doctors participating in the study if you–”

“–I’m comfortable with you doing it.” God, you know interrupting was rude. But the words spill out of you before you can stop them. “Really, I’m okay with it. Just surprised me a little, considering…”

A hard clenching of your teeth doesn’t work to hold back the small grin that sneaks upon your face at the expression on Dr. Morales’s face. He’s gone from warm to faltering and back to warm again, with a hint of delight just in the past few moments.

“Considering what?”

Dr. Morales squints his eyes as he asks the question. Watching and waiting for your answer with the knuckles of his fingers rubbing across his pink lips. You only let your gaze trail across the action for a short second. Any longer, and you’re sure you’ll melt away.

“Nothing,” you finally breathe with a soft laugh. The muscles in your neck tense and pull as you force your eyes upwards. Back to his eyes. “Sorry, uh… introductions?”

Something in his gaze shifts and he drops his hand.

“Right, right. Uh, feel free to take a seat here while I pull up your file real quick,” Dr. Morales tells you, motioning to the deep red chaise wing chair you didn’t notice until now. You nod, not trusting your voice, and settle into the large chair. It’s even more comfortable than the one in the lobby, and Dr. Morales just barely keeps his smile at how you subconsciously snuggle into the plush.

Other than the blood rushing past your ears, the clacking of his fast typing is the only sound in the room.

Much like the lobby, the room is rather warm for where you are, literally and figuratively. It’s a kind difference from something like the dentist or your normal practitioner. The opposite of the bright, sterile white you’d expected. You can tell the room was put together with the intention of being congenial for whoever steps inside. The velvet couch and nice rug that decorate the space tell you that much.

It seems that Dr. Morales dresses with the same purpose, white coat hanging forgotten on the back of his swivel chair, showing off the taupe button-up that stretches over his impressive set of shoulders. The shirt is tucked into a pair of thick, clean-cut jeans that hug around his waist.

“Alright,” Dr. Morales begins, sliding his chair over a few feet so you can see him a bit better. He smiles as he continues, reading off your name and age, to which you nod and smile back. You make sure the grin is big enough to cover the shiver that runs throughout your body and you don't notice that he didn’t even have to look at the screen when reciting the words.

“Great. Well, as I already told you, I’m Francisco Morales,” he chuckles, “one of the doctors here participating in this study you’ve so kindly agreed to be a part of. We’re really excited about all the knowledge we’re expecting to gain from the study. I, uh, we–we really appreciate you being here.”

“Oh, thank you for the opportunity. I’m also really excited. Never been involved in something like this before, so… yeah. I’m excited.”

Huh. Excited is one of the few words able to come to your mind as you bumble through the sentence. After only a few minutes with the doctor, you’ve found it’s somewhat difficult to form a coherent enough sentence. It’s even harder with him staring at you.

“What made you want to participate, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Um,” you start without thinking, “part of it was the topic of the study itself, I guess. So many of the things that have to do with sex, at least in my experience, are centered around men and their pleasure and what makes them feel good. So I think it’s refreshing to see something like this.”

“Oh, absolutely. That’s the whole reason for us doing this. I mean, we’ve got gynecologists, hormone specialists, endocrinologists, gender surgeons, and even sex therapists on my team all working together on this.”

“Oh, wow. That’s actually… really impressive,” you breathe out, but Dr. Morales shakes his head.

“It is, but I don’t wanna take all the credit. We’ve got a lot of amazing people working on this thing that’s gonna lead to ways to help women suffering from endometriosis, PCOS, trans women, everyone, really.”

Your eyes soften at the doctor’s words, and you straighten a little.

“Well, now I’m very happy to be here.”

Dr. Morales’s eyes squint with his smile this time. It’s the biggest he’s smiled all week.

“Good. I’m glad. And you’ve already filled out all the financial paperwork? Wanna make sure you get paid for this week’s session as soon as possible.”

“Oh, yeah. That was actually the other reason I signed up. Got some student loan payments coming up, and I could use the extra money.”

Dr. Morales laughs to himself.

“Loan payments are a bitch, aren’t they? Still paying mine off,” He shakes his head. Something about his curse pulls a small chuckle from you.

“Never heard a doctor curse before,” you tell him, and he laughs this time, raising his eyebrows with a shrug.

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it at bay, but I should warn you… I can have a pretty dirty mouth.”

Whether he knows it or not, Dr. Morales’s voice seems to drop an octave as he speaks. The words are paired with his gaze clouding to something similar to a stirring ardor. It shakes something inside you, rumbling into the depths of your veins, heating you in a way that feels remarkable. In a way that has you clenching and reeling, eyes just barely watering.

He hasn’t even touched you yet, and he’s got you evaporating into a transcendent air of nothing. You brush your hands along the fabric of the skirt of your dress, arms stretching and trying to find some sense of relief. Dr. Morales stares into you, a burning observance of an action that your subconscious therefore controls more than anything. The look is hot and pointed and forces him to take in a long inhale. He squeezes the thin arm of his chair when you finally grant him a soft reply.

“I don’t mind.”

Dr. Morales pauses before letting out a huff. A smirk teases across his lips, and his mouth opens like he’s going to say something. He stops just short of whatever it is, opting to roll his seat a little closer to you while clearing his throat.

His elbows hit the top of his knees, gaze tilting to yours. Unable to hold it, you try to settle for his hands, but that doesn’t seem to calm you at all. You flick your eyes again, this time onto his thighs, but it’s no use.

Damn it.

“Um, so today’s session will revolve around cunnilingus and a some hand stimulation. Uh… sorry. Sorry, I–” Dr. Morales stumbles to a stop and your eyebrows furrow.

“You okay?”

He holds a hand out at the look on your face with a quick nod.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay. Where was I? Uh… right, so like we talked about a little bit ago, I’ll be the one performing the… stuff, as you called it. And speaking of that, you’re still one hundred percent comfortable with me being to one to do it?”

“Hundred and ten,” you promise with a bobbing of your head that makes him grin again.

“Okay, then,” he nods back, hands rubbing against the denim of his jeans. “Let’s get started.”

.・゜゜・

You’re going to be the death of him.

He had an inkling of it when you greeted him at the door, those eyes all wide as you took everything in. He was confident about it when you assured him that you’d be alright with the fact that he’d be the one ‘doing the stuff.’ He knew when you didn’t mind his dirty mouth. And he was certain when you'd asked if he was alright.

Dead. That’s what you’ll make him by the end of this study, and he’ll go happy. A little embarrassed also, given how he started sputtering through his sentences like he was twenty years younger.

Frankie’s breath catches a little when he returns to the room after washing his hands. You’re just finishing the tie on the robe he’d provided you with, and he doesn’t realize how flimsy it is until now. It maps across your shape damn near perfectly as you hang your dress on the side of the wingchair.

“Hi,” you breathe out, spinning around. Frankie rakes his teeth over his bottom row of teeth hard.

“Hi,” he blinks back, making sure to brighten his face with a small smile. “Ready?”

You shakily hum your answer, smoothing down your robe to busy your hands. It’s made of silk and feels incredible, but boy is it small. Just barely covering the cheeks of your ass, you might as well be wearing nothing.

“Alright. So, before I forget, let me go ahead and get a swab of the inside of your cheek, just so we have that on record.”

Frankie grabs a long cotton swab and its transport tube off his desk, stepping over to where you stand waiting. He swallows, ordering you to softly open. You obey with no questions asked, dropping your jaws.

Did you mean to stick out your tongue, too? Frankie has no idea, but whatever the answer is, he doesn’t care, not with the rustle he feels in his middle.

“Thank you,” he replies after a few scrubs of your mouth, eyes catching yours briefly before sticking the swab in the tube and placing it back onto his desk. He huffs, turning back around to you. “Now, let’s get you settled on the couch.”

Frankie holds out his hand for you to take without thinking. The regret that runs through him slips away as you place your hand into his grip and let him lead you. His other hand reaches for his chair, rolling it over as he walks with you.

He rubs a gentle thumb on the back of your palm as you sit, hand squeezing into a fist when yours drops from his. Frankie sits in his chair with a grunt, planting his feet on the group, making sure to face you.

The man softens a little at the sight of you, all bunched up into a ball of returned nerves, and he thinks for a moment.

“How about we start with a deep breath, yeah? Relax a little bit before we do anything else?”

You nod and Frankie’s head goes a bit fuzzy for a short moment. You’re so sweet, with your tiny robe and all your nods, like candy. You breathe in deep, just like he says to. Your chest rises with it, and Frankie almost forgets to take in the breath as well.

“Good. Now, how we go from here is up to you,” Frankie starts, hands folding together politely. “Robe can stay on, or you can take it off. Your decision–”

“Robe off,” you speak before he’s finished. He holds back a chuckle. “Sorry. I’m okay with it off if you are.”

Of course, you are. Of course, you are, and so is he.

“That’s absolutely okay with me. As long as you’re comfortable,” he states, and your fingers go to pull at the tie. He shuffles, waiting, and swallows when you pause.”

“Um, is my bra being off okay? I took it off with my dress, didn’t even think about it until now.”

Frankie’s head pivots back to the wine-colored chair. And so you did. There’s more lace than he expects, causing him to stare longer than he means. He turns back to you with his eyes darker than before.

“That’s perfectly fine.”

You nod again, fuck, and finally pull the ties. His heart nearly stops as the silk slips down your shoulder, exposing your naked skin to him, inch by inch.

God, you’re devastating. You devastate him, and he’s going to die a happy, happy man. It’s inappropriate, he knows that, but fuck. Yes, he’s a doctor, but he’s also a man with blood pumping through his veins and down into his cock, which he’s currently shielding with a subtle cupping of his hand.

Your robe continues to fall, and soon enough, nearly all of you is revealed to him. His eyes, working with a mind of their own, fall upon your breasts.

Of course.

“Wow,” is all he says, and the corners of your mouth pull upwards. You peek down, the tips of your barbell piercings shining with every one of your shaky inhales. “Wow, uh… wow.”

“Oh, these. Yeah, I got them a few years ago,” you reveal, setting the robe to the side. “Hurt like hell, but it was worth it.”

“While I definitely agree, I was talking about your… everything. You’re gorgeous, querida.”

Querida. The name is unexpected, yet received by you with dilating pupils. It’s not just the way he says it but the way he says it. You can tell that he means it, every letter. Every syllable, as it falls off his tongue, into your ears, and down to just inside the thin layer of your panties.

It’s the only piece of clothing left on your body, and you’re certain they’re soaked. You can feel yourself seeping through, needing for something to happen. Anything, or you’ll die.

“Thank you,” you murmur back, impatience inching you closer and closer. To what, you don’t know, but you think it’s something special. “Should I go ahead and…?”

Dr. Morales’s gaze oozes down you where you’re slowly parting your legs. It takes him a second to answer.

“Uh,” he interrupts himself with a short laugh, “actually I was going to have you do something else for me first. When you’re, you know, in the act of pleasuring yourself, how do you usually start? Do you… do you dive right in or is there some kind of build-up?”

Legs having paused, you blink. It’s almost impossible to formulate an answer, but somehow you manage.

“Normally, I’d play with my nipples.” God, it sounds so silly when you say it out loud. “Tease myself for a little bit until I’m ready to start.”

The doctor sits back in his seat, still covering his growing member.

“Why don’t you go ahead and do a little bit of that for me?”

There’s that thing again. With his voice, the thing that is causing your organs to convulse and squeeze. Has you scooting a little further back onto the couch with ease and a deep breath.

You hear Dr. Morales suck in one of his own as your legs spread a little further, revealing a large wet splotch in the very middle of your panties. It’s seeped a little into the couch, and you’re not even embarrassed. Your legs more because you want him to see it. You need him to.

A flinch jerks you when the tips of your fingers meet the buds of your breast. You twist and pull, and it feels good. Better than normal with the beautiful doctor watching you do it. They start to pebble around the metal and a few shocks through you.

Leaving your lips is a gasp. Soft and nearly nothing, but it tugs something from Dr. Morales.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

When you gasp again, he bites his lip.

“You like that? You like it when I say that?”

You nod.

“Words, querida.” No matter how much he likes the nod.

“Yes, I like it when you say that.”

“When I say what?”

You hear him chuckle at the small groan you release.

“A good girl.”

Your voice is even smaller now, hoarse with want.

“Good girl.” Another groan from you. “Now, I need you to move a little further down, okay? Slip those pretty panties off for me.”

Your turn.

“You really like them?”

Dr. Morales’s throat bobs at your question you ask while dragging your hand lower. They glide across your stomach to rest just over your center. Pushing onto your clit, your moan is muffled by the way your teeth catch the soft flesh of your lip.

“I do, muñeca,” he assures you. “I really do. They’re almost as pretty as you are.”

You can’t help the full grin that sneaks onto your face. You push against yourself a little harder, and your head falls to the back of the couch. Fingers hooking under the seam, you tug.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion at this moment. You raise your head back up, just to catch the reaction from the doctor, who’s already gazing into your pussy when your eyes refocus. His breathing changes from long, calming inhales, to unsteady suspires.

“Jesus,” he grits out just under his breath when you eventually throw your panties alongside the robe and fully open yourself to him. Clenching around nothing, you relax further into the couch, legs propped and feet settled against the velvet.

Your huffs push out hot when Dr. Morales finally lifts from his seat. You don’t dare look away as he steps forward, towering over you. He bends at the waist, face lowering near your own. He gets so close that, for a split second, you think he’s going to kiss you. Press his pouting lips into yours like you so badly want him to.

His breath fans across your face, but he pulls away before you get to bask in any of the warmth. In his hand is a pillow from the couch that he plops onto the floor.

“Bad knees,” Dr. Morales mumbles, smirking at the dazed look in your eye. You say absolutely nothing, only watching as he drops his knees onto the wide pillow, hands clenching the edge of the couch cushions.

All the doctor does for a tick is stare. He stares and stares, tongue darting out to wet his mouth.

“Keep rubbing for me, hermosa,” Dr. Morales orders. “Just a little more.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing when your fingers dip down and come back sticky with your wetness. A whine exits you, and your head falls again.

“Can you touch me now? Please,” you remember to add at the end, the ache between your legs forcing you to squirm. “Please, I can’t wait anymore.”

A hand on your thigh almost startles you. Your head tips back up to see his palm sitting heavy against your leg.

“This what you want?” He asks, another scalding touch planting itself on your other thigh. His hands give thrilling grips, thumbs landing at the very edge of your dripping lips.

A pathetic nod from you.

“Words, gorgeous,” Dr. Morales tells you, gaze completely unmoving.

Gorgeous. Hm. A new one, but just as effective.

You pant a few more times before pushing out “Yes, that’s what I wanted.”

“Good girl,” he praises, and you’re nearly done for. “Now, if I ask on a scale of one to ten, how turned on are you right now?”

It’s tough to think of an answer. His hands, so big and inching closer and closer to your heat, are melting your thoughts away at record speed. Everything you try to come up with leaves too fast for you to catch them.

“A… a seven,” you sigh, liking the way his eyes twinkle at your response. “Seven.”

Dr. Morales chuckles lowly, looking up at you.

“Seven?” Frankie grins. “I haven’t touched your pussy yet, and you’re already at a seven?”

He waits for an answer but only receives a long whine that makes him want to laugh again. Fuck, you’re cute. And wet enough that your juices ooze out of you with a pretty shine, and it’s all for him.

Honestly, the only reason he’s lasted this long is because this is for science. Because Francisco Morales is a medical professional and needs to have some kind of composure. It’s breaking, though. He knows it, and not just because of the way his hands crawl closer and closer to your pussy. Or because of the ache in his cock that’s straining against the crotch of his jeans. Sucking in a breath at the feeling of it catching against the tight fabric, Frankie scans you.

Your chest, those stunning tits, have a noticeable rise and fall and you watch him. Something in your gaze, an unexplainable force, finally pulls his face down. It’s as close to your pussy as it’s been. He tries to remind himself about the self-control he’s supposed to be possessing, but a few more seconds pass and it’s nowhere to be found.

He starts just off the left side. The first kiss, soft and careful to start easy. Figure out what you like, what you don’t, and what you really like.

Kiss after kiss, his lips press a little harder. Gliding across the skin of your thighs and pelvis, staying in a spot a little long when it elicits a sound or squirm from you.

The pecks turn to full smooches, and he soon enough finds himself right where he wants to be.

Eyes meeting yours, he sinks into you with a long, fiercely slow drag of his tongue. Frankie’s gaze ties into yours, he puckers his lips and sucks. It’s a supple thing that he pairs with a flick of his tongue right across your pearl.

“Oh,” you squeak, unable to continue with anything but another broken sound. When you arch, Frankie’s hand reaches higher to rest against your hip. He had his suspicions that you were a squirmer, but to see it like this, up close is something else. Something special. “Shit.”

God, you taste incredible. Better than incredible, and while he wants to tell you he can’t. There’s no way he’s pulling away from this, so he suffices for his own moan.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against you, mouth lifting to suck a bit harder. The hand not occupied on your hip reaches until his thumb sits just inside your opening. He rubs, delicately, all the way up, only pulling his mouth away to smooth it over the slick skin.

Another moan, this time from both of you when your hips grind upwards. He matches your movements, letting his head dip back down to continue his lick.

After a while, Frankie decides to up it a notch. Delve as much of his mouth as he can against you, lapping and slurping whatever he can catch before it leaks down onto his chin. The sound it makes, your pussy and his soaking lips, is disgusting. Loud, sinful squelches of wetness that he would give anything to hear for the rest of his life.

Yet somehow, what leaves you is even better. A combination of hitching breaths, loud coos, and cries for him to keep going. Just like that, fuck. So he keeps going, just as he is until he can barely breathe.

He yanks away from you with a grunt but makes sure to replace his tongue with his hand.

“Such a gorgeous pussy,” Frankie husks out, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh while he finishes catching his breath. “What number now, princesa?”

Frankie makes sure to wait until you’re about to answer him when he snakes his tongue into your slit and fucks. His head bobs back and forth, tongue caressing as deep inside of you as he can. His fingers return to your clit, rubbing with ease thanks to the mixture of slick and spit.

“I don’t know, I can’t think of one,” you rush out, and Frankie chuckles. He gives you one last bold lick before pulling away. He has to hold you tighter when you squirm in irritation, nearly sobbing.

Frankie shushes you with a kind pat on your thigh. You don’t have a chance to whine anything out before he hooks an arm of your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the couch. One of your legs hangs just off the couch, so the doctor hitches it over his shoulder.

His eyebrows scrunch, and he focuses his attention on ghosting a few fingers just barely inside of you. He looks up at you and is met with you already looking back, ready and waiting for him to push further.

He pauses in a wait. Not ten seconds pass before you try to thrust his fingers further yourself, but he doesn’t let you.

“All you need to do is give me a number, baby, and I’ll fuck these as deep as you want.”

“Nine,” you whisper, and he spots your hands clench. You must want to touch him.

“Nine,” he repeated, thumb rolling a circle over your clit. “How many fingers to get you to ten?”

“Three, plea–ah,” you mewl out when Frankie slides his middle digit inside you. He lets out his own noise at the way you suck him in.

His hand bottoms out, and you’re already fucking yourself on his finger. “That’s a girl. Already taking my finger so well. Feel so fucking good around me.”

You’re truly a sight to behold as Frankie watches you, skin damp with a slight sheen, curving and grinding against his hand. Speed increasing, almost growls when he bends to lap at your clit. His tongue twirls against the bud of nerves, and he has to close his eyes to stop himself from reaching down and giving his painfully hard cock a squeeze.

Frankie slides in the second and third finger at the same time, and you break.

You don’t mean to tangle his hair with your fingers, but they do anyway. It’s hard, but you tug them away, clenching the couch instead.

“Sorry. Sorry, I–” you blurt out, breath long gone, but Dr. Morales has none of it. He doesn’t lift from his licking and swirling to grab your hand and tangle your fingers back into his hair. “Fuck me.”

The rhythm he finds is relentless. He pumps knuckles deep inside you, sliding in and out, collecting a residue of thick moisture. He curls his fingers, searching and finding the spongy spot that causes you to tighten your grip on his hair. His fingertips drag across it, over and over, and you fall limp in his grasp.

“Good fucking girl,” he tells you, words slurring together in his pussy-drunken state. “So good for me. Now I need you to cum, alright? Need you to come for me, all over my fingers so I can drink it all up.”

Dr. Morales slurps messily, chin now nearly dripping as he eats at you. Savoring the tang and hint of sweet while his fingers drive with a steady vigor. There’s no way you can stay still now. You arch, twist, and grind into the doctor, propelling him even deeper. He’s reaching somewhere inside of you that you once thought impossible. Taking grasp of you entirely.

You’re close. You’re so close

“I’m clo–fuck, yes, I’m close. Please don’t stop, please,” you whimper.

“Yeah, you are. Squeezing all nice around me, like a good girl. Sucking you into my mouth. Love how you feel on my mouth, baby. And on my tongue and around my fingers. Never gonna forget how you taste. Shit, could come just like this, so I need you to come right now, okay?”

Frankie doesn’t even know what he’s saying, his rambles. They just pour out, some of it incomprehensible as he busies himself with circling and flicking your sensitive clit.

You sob out one last moan before the damn breaks. He groans along with you at the way your clit throbs against his tongue. His fingers slow, but only a bit as they make sure to rub right against your g-spot.

A choking sound leaves you as you can barely breathe. The air sucks from your lungs almost as hard as Dr. Morales does down below, and your eyes clench shut. You see stars and space, world falling mute, and body quaking with a thick orgasm.

It rolls over you in drowning waves, the euphoric warmth, driving you with an unbearable bliss. You whine, crying out a few tears. Twitching and shivering under the strong hands of Dr. Morales.

His hold is tender as you work through it, talking to you gently in the pauses he takes from licking you clean.

“Fucking look at you, querida.”

“Did so good for me, so fucking perfect.”

“Can’t wait to get you back in here next week.”

Only some of the words make it to your ears. The blood rushing makes it hard to understand, but just the sound of it is comforting enough. You feel more kisses press into you, this time just under your belly button, as the fingers inside you still.

The two of you stay like that for several minutes. Dr. Morales murmuring quietly to talk you down. Your leg still over his shoulder caressed by his free hand, while your own twirls at his brown locks.

“Fuck me,” you breathe out eventually, and Dr. Morales smiles against you. You can’t help but join him, chest warming at the final peck he places onto your knee before lowering your leg.

“Gonna pull out, okay? I’ll go slow,” he tells you. You nod, hand falling around his to touch at the warm skin. You huff out a short breath, mouth falling open as you stare at the wetness revealed when he begins to pull out.

Frankie whispers out his own damn, watching you until his fingers are free. Fuck, you’re pretty, aren’t you?

“I meant what I said earlier,” he declares, pushing away the thought. “Did great, muñeca. Incredible, actually.”

“I could say the same for you…” you mumble with a shy grin, and Frankie finds it touching. You’re divine. You’re precious. You’re… his patient.

The room is filled with heat and smells of sex. It clouds Frankie’s brain, but he knows he needs to keep moving. You can dwell, but not him. He’s got a job to do.

Frankie only lets himself stare for a few more minutes before he rises with a groan. His knees are aching, but he doesn't care. His face heats when you help him up the rest of the way, loose limbs and wet stains in all.

“Thank you,” he smiles, moving to hand you your robe with his untainted hand. “Let me go grab you some water and a towel, and then we can do your swab so you can get out of here.”

He’s turning to leave, heading for the bathroom across the hall to wash his hand–it’s still wet and shining, even now–but stops when he sees the look on your face.

“Is it required that I leave right away?”

Frankie is quick to answer. The small pout on your face makes it so.

“Of course not,” he shakes his head. “You’re free to take your time, take a breath. Sip on the water I’m gonna go grab you. Hell, you can even take a nap, if you want. I’ve uh… we’ve got rooms upstairs with beds and blankets. I think there are some snacks in there, too.

“Really?” You blink at him.

“Yeah. Gotta keep you all as comfortable as possible.”

Frankie sees that look again, the pout. He’s not sure you even know you’re doing it.

“I actually might take you up on that nap. I don’t think my legs have really come back yet,” you tell him, looking at him while slipping on the robe. When feels your eyes trail down, right to the bulge in his pants, he sucks in a rough inhale and does his best to screen the obvious.

“I’ll be right back with that water and towel,” Frankie rushes out, turning for the door.

His clean hand is sitting shaky on the handle when he hears you.

“Do you want me to…” you trail off, pausing for so long that he doesn’t expect you to keep going. “I could help you with that if you want.”

That. He knows you aren’t talking about getting water or towels, and it crumbles him. He grits his teeth, dick jumping at the thought of your–

No. No, he can’t. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t.

Frankie turns, digging deep for the strength to look you in the eyes.

“...we shouldn't, sweetheart. It’s against the rules, and we don’t want either of us getting in any kind of trouble, right?”

It takes a long time for you to nod. Way too long.

“Right,” you agree, but Frankie can smell the lie. He wonders if you can smell his, too.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier #au: the study

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j4gm · 7 months

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SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 9: CASPER & NOVA (1 of 2)

I hit the image limit so this post will be in two parts.

These last two episodes feature traditional Adventure Time title cards with intro credits, which is something the others haven't had.

There is a butterfly floating above Fionna when she enters the "Land of Ooo". The same thing happened to Cake when she entered Ooo, and to Simon later on, but this butterfly doesn't have a face on it like those. This is our first hint that something is wrong.

The Betty statue in the background of this shot is on top of a four-faceted object that sort of resembles Glob's helmet; an item that she used to gain her magic powers in You Forgot Your Floaties. Also in this shot are several gnome fairies from The Enchiridion and Billy's Bucket List, and of course Mrs Cupcake and genderswapped Chocoberry. Mrs Cupcake has appeared before but I think Chocoberry is a new design for this episode.

This is our first and only look at what Hunter Wizard would look like. Mostly the same as his main universe counterpart.

This species of dragon first appeared in Memories of Boom Boom Mountain and has been in several subsequent episodes. I'm not sure who the giant cyclops is. It could be a genderswap of the cyclops from Another Way, or perhaps the rock giant from Five More Short Graybles.

Lots of the text in this scene is hostile. There is this sign behind the counter, of course, but lots of the books on the shelf also have violent names.

This series loves giving us extremely fucked up Simons.

This background character looks like Phlannel Boxingday. It would be hilarious if that was the case, considering he is widely assumed to have been a disguise of Princess Bubblegum rather than his own character.

This might be genderswapped Tiffany. She's wearing Tiffany's pink shirt under her jacket. Maybe she has a masculine name in this universe.

We get a better look at the newspaper from the first episode, featuring Betty. It also features the fake butterfly from the dream which feels like a bad omen.

Marshall Lee's t-shirt features the cake pop from Princess Bubblegum's rock shirt, first seen in What Was Missing.

The Lich first mentioned being a Scholar of GOLB in the episode Whispers. In this episode it is confirmed that he has been working towards his goals in GOLB's name. But it doesn't seem like he's actually had any line of communication with GOLB this whole time. GOLB doesn't seem to appreciate The Lich's efforts to wipe out all life; and now that GOLB is fused with Betty, they certainly don't.

The Lich rips off Billy's skin to reveal his skeletal form, which is the same as it was in Escape from the Citadel, complete with the metal plate on his ribcage.

GOLBetty turns the Lich into a tetronimo, implying that all of the tetronimoes surrounding them were once powerful beings who defied GOLB; perhaps they are even all alternate versions of The Lich.

Shermy and Beth! This episode incorporates a lot of the extra lore that writer Steve Wolfhard published shortly after the release of Come Along With Me. It canonises the fact that Shermy and Beth are rebels who oppose the tyrannical rule of Gibbon, who is Charlie's future son from Daddy-Daughter Card Wars. This place is the Pup Kingdom, which is featured in the Come Along With Me title sequence and is a central part of Wolfhard's 1000+ lore.

These are the same kinds of soldiers as seen in Graybles 1000+ when Cuber interrupted the space wedding. In that episode, you only got a very brief glimpse of their jowls. This episode makes it more obvious that they are pups.

All of these pups in the windows are designs from Steve Wolfhard's "Every Pup Has a Power" series of drawings. They once had superpowers, but their powers were extinguished by Gibbon.

This is Jake's favourite mug from the episode Puhoy, and the house in the snowglobe is Tree Trunks' house.

There is a Shermy plush in this pile of junk. There might be some other recognisable stuff in that pile too. I think the popcorn machine is from something but I can't remember what, and the pool toy might be a reference to the Lub Glubs from Beautopia.

This is our best shot of the Pup Kingdom, with its space elevator.

Beth is a revolutionary communist confirmed.

Shermy Simon shouts breadballs, an expletive that he previously used in the episode Simon & Marcy.

The clouds in Fionnaworld are shaped like GOLB blocks while Simon is in the presence of GOLB. We also get a better look at all the glitched out buildings, like that door that leads nowhere.

I think the creature next to Gunter in this advert is a yeti from the show Summer Camp Island, which a bunch of Adventure Time alumni went to work on after the original show ended.

There is a poster for Super Porp, a fizzy grape juice introduced in the episode Dark Purple, along with their mascot Cheryl.

Jake is on these packages in one of the shops.

The Library looks incredible now. In the original show, only the top part with the dome could be seen sticking out of the ground. Either the ground has eroded away to reveal the rest of the structure, or the library has been greatly expanded over time.

Turtle Princess is dead and apparently a robot took over her empty shell and continues to work as a librarian. These are the first gun-books we've seen that also function as actual guns.

These are the pagelings from the episode Paper Pete. They're much larger than they used to be. They don't have many books left to protect these days.

Casper & Nova mention lodging in the seaside town of Scandia on their quest to find the crown. This is a reference to the fact that Simon and Betty found the crown in Scandinavia, as mentioned way back in Holly Jolly Secrets.

I hit the image limit! Link to the second part.

#adventure time #fionna and cake #easter egg posts

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foreverisntenough · 2 months

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-YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestions, smut love bombing, little sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 17 - ‘You’re Mine’

Trent slowly opened his eyes, waking up, he grabbed for his phone and winced at the bright light in the dark room. He had heard it vibrating on the bedside table but hadn’t had the energy or interest to look until now. You were still passed out nestled on his chest. He smiled, inspecting the little details of your face before turning his attention back to his phone. His brows furrowed at a group chat with his manager and brother blowing up. He had 50+ text messages. Since early hours they had been talking and sending links. He scrolled in momentary ignorance up to where the conversation started this morning, clicking the first link sent curious seeing his name included in the headline’s blurb.

“What the ..” he spoke at a normal voice that trailed into a whisper... “fuck” as you stirred.

“T?” You cooed, picking your head slightly, wiggling a little on top of him.

“Shhhh... Baby, go back to sleep, yeah?” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You couldn’t fight the sleep plaguing you, a headache hit you almost immediately so you rested your cheek back against his bare chest.

The Daily Mail headlines felt almost fake…. Trent squinted wondering if this was an elaborate joke. He couldn’t believe it.

‘Not So Secret? Alexander-Arnold confirms long term relationship with mystery woman’

‘Packing on the PDA; Liverpool fullback gets handsy with woman on a night out in Manchester’

‘Meet Mrs. Merseyside; Liverpool’s Trent Alexander- Arnold shows off his missus on a night out.’

That one seemed to stick. People ran with the Mrs. Merseyside headline. Photos of you last night were plastered across the internet; holding hands into the restaurant, a blurry photo of you kissing at the dinner table, hooking up in the car, god so fucking many of that kiss in the car, you pouring tequila down his throat, your whole night was chronicled. Why the fuck is this being published? You two went out all the time before this, but multiple articles, major news outlets, social media a buzz, it seemed like a lot. Trent’s head started to hurt now. He picked up his arm off you to rub over his eyes trying to calm down. His movement caused you to wake. You slowly began pressing kisses all over his chest. You moved deliberately, hands running over his skin. Humming. Trent got a little sidetracked for the moment, his hand coming to stroke your face but when your hand slid over his abs and down into the waistband of his boxers he shut his eyes tight at the amount of stuff going on and he didn’t think messing around right now would be a good idea.

“Nah, nah. Please baby, not right now” He cooed trying to be nice, mind racing thinking of trying to explain the news to you when he couldn’t even comprehend what was happening.

“Wait, what?” Your head sprung up looking at him confused. It was rare for Trent to refuse you. You weren’t even trying to have sex. You just wanted to be closer to him.

“I’m sorry..sorry..” he shook his head overwhelmed. “Just not right this second pretty girl, okay?” He felt bad he could see you were confused but your head hurt too much to think right now so you laid back down in a huff and cuddled him a little before starting to draw over his chest with your nail. Trent kept reading on his phone frivolously, one article breaking down when you first appeared in Liverpool, another saying you were a one night stand, an instagram post found the price of the clothing items you were wearing, it was all doing his head in. He put his phone down leaning his head further back into his pillow. His arms squeezed you a little tighter before releasing and dozing off holding you trying to escape this morning.

Trent had fallen asleep when you heard the doorbell ring. You were confused and ignored it, continuing on with your important task of spelling your name, little hearts, and I love yous over his chest with your nail still. The bell rang again so you slipped off of Trent and the bed. You sleepily fumbled around the room looking for your panties. You pulled one of Trent’s shirts over your head as you made your way downstairs. You yawned, squinting at the bright sun coming into the house, you went to grab at the handle of the front door when it began to unlock and open. You pulled as they pushed it open.

“Where’s Trent?” Tyler pushed past you in the doorway. He had a key and he didn’t feel like waiting for your hungover ass to let him in any longer.

“What?” Running your hands over your eyes. He turned back towards you giving you a quick hug like he had forgotten walking in before he proceeded to let himself further inside, going to the kitchen.

“You just woke up I’m assuming?” He turned back to you, opening your fridge.

“Ty… I definitely didn't purposely come down looking like this.” You giggled half asleep pulling at Trent’s t-shirt from last night. “By all means, have what you want!” You joked as he poked around.

“You haven’t talked to him today?” He asked, head still in the refrigerator.

“Erm… no?” You were utterly confused and his panicked state had your head hurting again.

“Can you go get him, he has to get up. It’s… it’s time sensitive, yeah?” He asked nicely, finally turning around to face you. You said okay and left the room but you always worried when Trent and Tyler needed to have impromptu meetings. Usually, something was wrong or Trent had forgotten about something else. It all stressed you out. A part of you always selfishly feared that the ‘something’ would shake up your life with Trent. Unbeknownst to you, this one just might.

Tyler didn’t want to be the one to show you the news. He figured Trent should. You were a little sensitive about what other people said online and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. He’d leave the hard task to his brother.

When you pulled Trent downstairs, it was a little awkward because he didn’t want to tell you either. You more than likely had to be included in some part of the discussion but the thought of stressing you out over something so ridiculous upset him.

“What’s happening?” You cooed, pressing a kiss into his neck as he wrapped his arms from behind around your shoulders in front of you.

“It’s fine, yeah? Just have to do this with Tyler. Sort some things out.” He cooed whispering in your ear, placing a kiss over it when he stopped.

Tyler had moved to the couch, Trent sat down on the other side, you stood awkwardly unable to move paralyzed by the possibilities. You suddenly felt sick and not from the alcohol that was seeping out of your pores now from last night. God, you needed to shower.

The boys explained the media frenzy occurring and you stood there in front of them. Shocked. Trent played with your limp fingers hanging at your side when you finally started coming back from the sudden drop in blood flow in your body. They showed you what had come out, scrolling quickly sparring you in the finer details, the comments you would inevitably read. Tyler called Trent’s manager and put it on speaker. He laughed when he greeted the boys so it lightened the heavy weight pulling on your heart at the moment that they were able to feel so relaxed with this going on.

“Well, there’s nothing… What am I meant to say? I don’t have to say shit to them…” Trent stumbled over his thoughts still tired, a little annoyed this was happening.

“It’s a ‘no comment’ situation, we knew this would happen. We just have to kill the more cynical narratives being put out there.” He paused, blowing some air out of his mouth. “The ‘Trent is a piece of shit, he’s a womanizer, drunk, throwing his career away,’ the whole lot and then obviously the Y/N specific stuff.” Tyler spoke more composed, seeming to have some sort of plan in place, prepared for this which didn’t surprise you but the ‘Y/N specific stuff’ comment caught you off guard. Trent hummed at it with some sort of agreement or remembrance like this was done before. You were out of the loop.

“It’s great you have to do press before the fixture this weekend.” Trent’s manager laughed sarcastically.

“Oh fuck” Trent said dropping his head in his hands. “Nah, honestly. Why do they even carreee” he groaned, falling back into the couch. The boys kept discussing more logistical things; statements, image rights, contacting the club.

“Can I go shower or do you need me?” You whispered pulling at Trent’s arm.

“You’re fine, baby. Come back down when you're done.” He kissed your temple. You got up and Trent mouthed where you were going to Tyler not to interrupt his sentence but to still fill him in. When you went to turn the water on in the bathroom you felt like you had been slapped in the face with the memory of your and Trent’s words in bed last night.

“Holy fuck” you expressed out loud. You turned the water a little colder to try to forget it, reset, there was too much going on, your head was pounding. You stood under the shower head and felt really naked. Obviously. But you felt naked that so many people had seen you in compromising positions, had opinions about you, a million questions blooming. The water droplets raced down your chest as you looked down, each one running over your skin with a thought.

‘He’s such a fuck boy and no one calls him out… the tequila photo, what a slag!’

‘What’s this girls name? Need to stalk immediately.’

‘How did this all go on and we had no idea. So confused.’

‘So obvious she’s in it for the money’

‘Where do these players even find girls like this?’

When you eventually got yourself pulled together you came downstairs going to the kitchen to get water first while you tried to listen to where the conversation had progressed to. You needed to overhear what was being said before you went back not wanting to get involved.

It was all fine. A little invasive? Definitely, but it was the life he chose and you in turn were now choosing. Nothing you could do. You figured it was okay to go back at this stage so you quietly crept back into the living room, not saying a word. You tucked yourself on the couch in between Trent’s legs leaning back on his chest. He engulfed you feeling your warm skin against his. It wasn’t a big deal. People could say what they wanted. It wasn’t going to change the way you felt about each other. It didn’t affect his performance capabilities. It bothered you for sure when people made incorrect or negative assumptions but that’s what was going to happen. Tyler gave you a smile as he continued speaking, reassuring your thoughts that this was ultimately fine, just a little uncomfortable as you began to zone out, the boys voices fading to murmurs.

“Baby?” Trent cooed his cheek coming to press against yours. “Hmm?” He questioned you but you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Sorry?” You shook your head trying to catch up.

“Did you want to release anything?” Tyler asked, leaning towards you a little.

“Release what?” This was all foreign for you to begin with so being asked to do things like this was over your head. Trent’s manager laughed a little.

“Like… Do you want to come out and say something, correct anyone, come out I guess to the public, information maybe, whatever you want?” Trent translated softly as his hands ran up and down your thighs.

“Oh… do you want that?” you turned to ask him but his face was so close to yours already you couldn’t really see him.

“Baby, that’s for you to decide this time. It’s your decision.” He pressed his lips to your cheek trying to be gentle but also explain that you, specifically, had to answer.

“Erm.. no.” You placed your hand over Trent’s. “I don’t think so, they can talk. It’s not like I want to ‘hide’ necessarily” you air quoted the word leaning forward to create space between you and Trent to look back and see his reaction. “but… it’s not really for strangers is it? I don’t have to, right?”

“No, you're fine not saying anything.” Tyler understood your reasoning, so did Trent. They assumed that’d be your response but wanted to give you the space to choose otherwise.

“Can I keep my instagram?” You interrupted the conversation that had carried on.

“Yeah, course. It’s fine.” Trent kissed one cheek again. It was sweet but you looked at Tyler for his answer. Trent said yes to everything you asked, it didn’t carry the same weight right now. Tyler nodded. “Told you so” Trent kissed you again. You had your same Instagram still. You had about 5,000 followers. It was small. It was harmless. There were no feed posts with Trent too obviously in them. You’d post stories with him, your friends and family, people you actually knew followed you, you could easily deduce that you were seeing him but there wasn’t really an easy paper trail to find or get to the account. You didn’t care anyhow, it was public. You wanted to ask though because it felt relevant and it was also your way of keeping some sliver of your normal life but you guess things changed slightly when the comments under your posts had verified blue check marks but other than that it was the same.

You leaned back again to cuddle into Trent’s chest and mentally checked out of the conversation now that your decision was made and your question answered. You would probably barade Trent with more questions later but right now… this was fine. You scrolled aimlessly on Trent’s phone looking at a folder of images from a gossip agency that sold photos from the night out.

“This one��s kind of cute.” You beamed nuzzling your head into his neck grabbing his attention.

“Yeah, baby.” He just yessed you. Tyler was less agreeable.

“Okay, no. We’re not pushing this.” He glared at you to basically shut up but the look still had a little love in it, relieved you weren't on the couch balling your eyes out right now.

You had zoned out again once you got bored of inspecting the photos. This was all a little nuts. It was the first time that people were writing full length articles about you. They didn’t even have your name and they had pulled all this crazy information out of thin air. It made you a little sick being so vulnerable.

The harsh slap of your thoughts you felt before your shower came crashing back. Trent’s hands were on your stomach and it had your brain going fuzzy and not in the way you thought it would. Your chest was warm. You could only imagine the onslaught of articles that would appear when you got pregnant. Jesus, did you want that? ‘When’ you get pregnant like it was set in stone. You rolled your eyes at the self inflicted chaos ensuing in your head.

The call was slowing down. They had kind of pieced together this idea that the England international team was released for the fast approaching Euros. When news sources were gathering images to use in the coverage the latest uploads from paparazzi cameras last night appeared. It was how the site you had been browsing worked. You could search for images taken by the agency and news outlets able to pay for them after the fact. There was a lot of debate about who made the team though, Trent, ever the hot topic, so there was growing interest and searches of his name and in turn that had all shifted to you.

‘This isn’t news… catch up. She’s been around the team for ages’

‘This woman is at every game of his, obviously a long term thing’

‘Can’t wait to see is she goes the the Euros’

‘100% a one night stand, she’s holding on to him for dear life’

‘How do we know nothing about this girl like TAA lets us in brother’

You saw one comment and laughed… showing the phone screen to Trent. It was a lyric from the ‘Brum Boy or Scouser’ song that seemed to ever haunt you.

‘Got there girls acting naughty, one night stand and she still tryna call me lol’

You giggled so Trent did too, more at your little laugh than the actual comment. He still wasn’t sold on the song but the memory of New York years ago made him happy.

“Alright that’s enough. You two are fine?” Tyler asked, standing up. He didn’t need to be annoyed with you two cuddling on the couch while he tried to iron out remaining bits of the situation you didn’t have a say in.

“All good bro. Thank you.” Trent said fist bumping his brother, he was also genuinely thankful for how Tyler handled these things.

The Euro’s were rapidly approaching, Trent having to leave for England training soon, his days busy with workouts and media. Your days blurred directly after the articles came out and him not being around as much didn’t help. There was a lot of focus and attention on you and it caused you to disconnect. You were being papped so often around the city. Articles continued to come out. You had gone to get food with Marcel one day and it resulted in another media onslaught. You wore a pair of shorts and a t-shirt of Trent’s. The actual media coverage was pointless, the frenzy really ensued in the comments when people noticed bruises and love bites on the side of your neck and once to your delight now your embarrassment, on your inner thighs. People had a field day dissecting your sex life. You didn’t want to be on your phone anymore. It had become too much, you weren’t used to this. Sure, some people's interest was sweet and thought more positively of you but an overwhelming amount was just criticism and hate. You hadn’t even responded to any of your friends or families texts in days. To be honest, you didn’t even know where your phone was.

“Ignoring me, huh?” Trent said, waking into the kitchen one late morning. He had a day off and given the recent fixation on you, you two opted to just stay home.

“What?” You looked up from the now cold cup of tea you were swirling a spoon in. You didn’t realize you had been doing that since it was hot.

“I texted you asking for water, baby” he kissed your temple walking past you to grab one.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry T, I would've gotten you one. I don't have my phone.” Your eyes pooled like a puppy looking at him actually feeling bad.

“I know, I found it” Holding it up in front of you before he pressed another kiss to your temple standing behind you caging your body against the counter, his chest pressed to your back. “Okay?” He rested his chin on your shoulder worried after seeing you isolate. He didn’t want to bother you, understanding this had been a lot to process, but he had been busy and he missed you. He didn’t accept your dismissal and definitely didn’t fall for your lies so he made you come with him back to the cinema room to spend some time together.

You laid in the dark room on his chest in a little bra top and biker shorts. Your one leg draped over his hips, Trent was just in a pair of sweats, his hands caressing your exposed skin on your back and shoulders. Your hands traced shapes mindlessly over him as you both stared at a football game, quiet. Your heart hurt a little missing him even though he was under you. You wanted him to pay attention to you. You slid your hand down his face and pulled his pouty bottom lip out with your thumb, exposing his pretty teeth, he was unphased, letting you manipulate him. You let his lip go and nuzzled your face into his neck. You left nothing but soft kisses and nibbles on his neck, working up to his jaw and back down his neck. Trent sighed in contentment with your lips on him, shutting his eyes disinterested in the match now.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” He asked, unable to ignore your touches knowing you wanted attention. He didn’t open his eyes though. He just slipped his hands from your lower back to knead your disappointedly currently covered ass.

“I have a question” you cooed with a little giggle. Trent’s heart started beating faster, well aware that neither of you had addressed the ‘pregnancy’ comments, avoiding it every time you had had sex since. The glow from the tv lit your face and he softened seeing more of you. He wasn't sure though if he should play it off or be honest if you asked about it right now.

“Hmm?” He hummed, waiting to see what you were going to ask.

“When you’re playing someone you know, like a friend, do you pretend you don’t know them, is it awkward?” You continued giggling.

“What are you on about?” He started laughing at your out of the blue question. For now, he guessed you were ignoring the comments so he would too. Your innocent question warmed his heart though. You were adorable. He just wanted to ignore all the shit going on and be with you. You were waiting for him to answer the original question so you sat up placing your hands in your lap, waiting patiently. His eyes lit up at how beautiful you looked.

“Hmm?” He hummed again squeezing your exposed waist pressing gross wet kisses against your skin. He missed you lately, you felt distant and he didn’t know if it was the baby topic or the news but he wanted to cheer you up.

“Ew!! You know what I mean!” You squealed attempting to wiggle out of his hold and get an answer but he was much stronger than you. He kept pressing dramatic kisses on you. You felt like a weight lifted as both your giggles filled the room.

“C’mere” he was trying to grab you but you were trying to get away from him jokingly but really, him, his kisses, his hands back on you right now was everything. It didn’t take long for him to catch you so he picked you up and placed you back where you were before. He quickly came to lay completely on top of you, crushing you with his weight. You loved this Trent. He was so childish, manhandling you ignoring how strong he was in comparison, he didn’t care about anything but the present, he wasn’t Trent Alexander-Arnold number 66 in Liverpool’s starting eleven, he was just yours for the moment. He was being ridiculous and it made you happy to see that big goofy smile come across his face as he giggled close to your face.

“Baby!” You breathed out heavily but your moan next to his ear had Trent brain shift gears almost immediately. He went from teasing you to becoming very aware he was on top of you, in control.

“No, tell me what you mean” he hovered over you, his arms pinning yours down against the couch above your head. Your chest rising and falling was more apparent on full display now. You felt small underneath him.

“No, T…” you said slow and sensual. Your brain transitioned too in your new position.

“No?” He cooed, leaning his face closer towards yours. The energy had shifted in the room

“No” you practically moaned, lifting your head a little to move towards his lips for a kiss, he met you half way and you gasped at the contact.

“Okay… gonna tell me what you want then?” He said pulling away from your lips for a moment resisting to kiss you till you answered him.

“No, don’t want anything from you” You giggled a little trying to play coy but he wasn’t having it.

“So you’re not the one drooling, staring at my dick right now?” He laughed. You hadn’t noticed that your gaze had dropped greedily to his hard length. You couldn’t even get a response out. You just smiled shyly.

“Why you going shy now baby? Hmm?” He said nuzzling into your neck as you tried to hide from him, turning your head. He used the arm not holding yours back to grab your chin and turn your face to him before his lips crashed into your again. His body pressed into yours, you could feel the hard cock you’d been staring at against your core.

“I’m not” you moaned, wanting to touch him but your hands struggled to break free under his hold.

“Baby” he paused, pressing his hips flush against yours. “So hard just for you, fuck, just for you.” He groaned

“I love you, T, fuck.. so much” you were desperate for him. He laid into you, his weight was heavy on top of you and love loved the pressure.

“Say it again” he whispered in your ear. His free hand ghosting over your body. It was an excruciating tease. His movement slowed when he pushed into you once more before he whispered again. “Say it again for me, baby.” He let go of your hands and you scrambled to grab at him, pulling his face to yours, kissing him hopelessly, tugging his clothes off frantically.

“I love you, forever, T.” You did. You were obsessed with him. Sometimes in moments like this it hit you how fucking crazy it was suddenly naked with him, your boyfriend, in the house you shared, in another country, it was absolutely mad. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about him fucking you the other night. You could hear him say it, it had been playing on a loop in your head for over a week.

“Make me a daddy, be a good girl and take it all of it f’me”

It made you practically orgaasm just thinking about it, his body on top of yours. His big hard cock brushed over you. You felt like you could scream. He was so hot on top of you, sometimes you forgot until it was happening. He looked down at you. His eyes glimmered, his full lips parted, you nodded to let him now you just wanted him inside you as soon as possible. His lips pulled into that cheeky beautiful grin that had you swooning when his cock brushed over your clit moving through your folds to push into your soaking wet pussy. Your back arched your hip’s instinctively coming forward to meet his. He slowly pulled out before thrusting back in falling into a hard and rough pace, silently telling you he was in charge. The air around you became increasingly thicker at how hot it was getting. He felt so good you couldn’t hold back a moan. The way the noise hit his ears made his stroke falter.. You had him on a leash you didn’t know you were holding. You controlled him with every move of your hips. Your whines had him folding. He was ready to give into anything you wanted. He took a deep breath pulling out for a moment to reset, trying to prolong this.

“T, baby, please, please I need you.” You were begging for him. He took a deep breath trying to gather himself before he gripped the fat of your ass so tight you let out uncontrollable whine.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He teased above you, that smile reappearing.

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, squeezing around nothing desperate for him. Trent pushed his finger in your mouth and you moaned around them. He took his now wet fingers from your mouth and dragged them down your body before his thumb rubbed your clit in harsh circles. .

“Be a good girl and tell me your mine.” He cooed as you were falling apart under him. You couldn’t get any words out only whines, you felt his thumb into your clit harder.

“Fuck! Fu-fuck T, I can’t.” Tears started to form on your lash line. Your eyes locked onto him in desperation to let you cum. He held your gaze before he slammed his length back inside you all at once. He started up a brutal pace, so much rougher than his previous one. You could feel every hard vein and ridge of it fucking into you. He consistently hit a spot so deep inside you that only he knew. You both moaned at the sensation. You couldn’t hold it together anymore.

“I know it feels good, baby, but you can do it. Tell me your mine.” He grunted through the words. You could tell in his voice he wasn’t far behind you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah fuck. T…Oh my god I’m yours. I’m yours.” You were crying. Tears rolling down your cheeks as your orgasm washed over you. You came all over his cock, Your slick covered his length as it dripped down your thighs. He continued to fuck into you relentlessly. “I’m yours, T.” You whined.

“Shit, shit, shit, gonna cum. Be a good girl and take all of it f’me.” It was a line similar to the one replaying in your head when you practically begged him to cum inside you to get you pregnant. A second orgasm came flooding in with the memory. All you could do is cry and moan his name while he fucked his cum into you, filling you up completely till it was leaking out of you. As he felt his cum seep out he couldn’t help but think about you asking for him to get you pregnant too. You were on birth control, you two definitely were not being the most careful but Trent didn’t mind if you actually ended up pregnant. In all honesty, that would be a dream for him. It was the ultimate way of marking you as his, and only his. You both were thinking about it and not saying a word but pretty happy with the idea.

You clung to his body breathing heavily whispering how much you loved him in his ear while your hand raked up his spine after his movements stilled and he collapsed on top of you. You stayed like that for ages until you heard an awfully familiar sound. Trent was softly snoring as he breathed on top of you. He rested his heavy head on your chest with his arms wrapped completely around your naked frame. His hair tickled your skin as he dozed off between your boobs. You let him stay like that a little longer, just happy to have him with you because he was going to be leaving for the tournament so soon. It was nearing dinner time and you wanted to make sure he didn’t fuck up his sleep schedule so you tried to wake him.

“T… baby” you cooed

“Hey…” you tried again, speaking softly.

“Pretty boy…” stroking your hand over his prominent cheek bone.

“Mmm” he groaned, moving a little on top of you. You thought he was going to get up but he just squeezed you tighter.

“No?” You giggled at how tired he was. “Okay.” You kissed him

“I love you Y/N so much” he said quietly, closing his eyes and humming in appreciation as you continued rubbing your thumb over his cheek.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! Comment or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 18 xx

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #you’re mine fic

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randomshyperson · 1 year

Text

Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug - Chapter Four - Series

Summary: Since joining the team, Wanda Maximoff has captured all of your attention, even if she has no idea about this. In a six-part story, you'll do your best to give her everything she needs and maybe she never thought she deserved it. Along the way, you two might end up realizing you were in love with each other the whole time.

Warnings: (+18), Friends to lovers, smut in the last few chapters, slow burn, conversations about self-love and individual worth, mentions of anxiety, past trauma, avengers being a family, canon-fix, a lot of magic. Words: 4.875k

General Masterlist || Series Masterlist || AO3 || Wattpad

--//--

Chapter Four - Wanda Maximoff needs a drink

"Stop that, you're distracting me."

You frown. "I'm just breathing."

"Do you have to be so loud?" Wanda retorts still with her eyes closed.

"Well, maybe, I will have pneumonia and I’m about to die and you will feel guilty for the rest of your life for fighting with me about it."

A ball of scarlet energy hits your back hard and by your meditation position and being caught off guard, you lose your balance completely and fall into the lake in front of you.

Some of the meditating masters around you look at you, but Wanda continues with her eyes closed, a small smile playing on her lips as she takes a deep breath.

"Peace and quiet, detka. Peace and quiet." She asks again, and you walk off annoyed from inside the lake, leaving her alone in the garden area to search for dry clothes.

You have been at the Kamar Taj for a few weeks now, and Wanda's training means training for you as well. The Ancient One welcomed you with open arms, and everything Wanda learned, you did too. But while you were growing stronger, Wanda was growing more confused.

There was something about her power that didn't fit there, and it was only until that day that you were left not knowing what she was.

"Miss L/N, do you have a minute?" You raised your eyes to the bald woman, shrugging.

"Sure." She led you to a private area, not caring that you were making a trail of soaking steps.

"There's something I need to discuss with you, about your friend."

You grimace. "Don't you want to call Wanda? She's meditating outside."

"I already talked to her about it." The Ancient declares surprising you a bit. "You may have noticed some change in her behavior."

You sigh. Wanda has been particularly difficult the last few days, but you thought maybe she was stressed from the training. And honestly, you were the best at tormenting her, so you didn't think anything had happened.

"Is it something bad?" You worry. The Ancient One forces a smile, stopping walking.

"Here at Kamar Taj, we look after the education of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, Miss L/N." She begins. "But our masters are not the only ones capable of performing magic."

You scrunch your nose slightly. "Yeah, like witches and all that stuff, right? Isn't it all the same thing?"

"I'm afraid not." She says seriously. "A Sorcerer is someone who borrows energy from another dimension to perform spells. Witches are born with this innate ability and draw from their own life force the power needed to manipulate magic. The practice of witchcraft is seen as unnatural, and is forbidden."

You chuckle half-heartedly. "Come on, that's kind of hypocritical, don't you think?" You casually return, leaving her in shock. "In the end, everyone is doing magic. What difference does it make where the energy comes from or whatever?"

"That's a rather frivolous opinion on the matter, but I'm going to dismiss your position for the simple fact that you've only been here a few days." She retorts surprising you with her seriousness. The woman sighs softly. "Wanda is a witch."

You chuckle shortly. "Okay. So what?"

The elderly woman does not smile. "A natural witch, Miss L/N. Not a sorceress, like us from the Kamar Taj."

You grimace, rubbing at the back of your neck. "I don't think I understand, is this a problem by any chance?"

The woman sighs impatiently. "Did you hear any of what I just said? Witchcraft is a forbidden practice in the Kamar Taj, there is nothing we can teach here-"

You cut her off with an indignant laugh. "For heaven's sake, what's that now?" You inquire. "It was you who went after her in New York! And now what you want? That she should stop studying because she does a different magic than you? What the fuck is this?"

The Elder hesitates, taking a deep breath. "Miss L/N, I'm not kicking anyone out." She tries more softly. "Wanda is a witch, nothing we learn here is any good for her. I had a vision, of a powerful creature and her name came up. Because she is a magical being, I imagined that her abilities came entirely from the Mind Stone, but that is not the case. She is a natural witch who has had her powers amplified, she does not belong here."

You roll your eyes, turning your back on her. "Great! You guys are full of shit."

The Elder slams the door before you can leave the room, and you stare at her indignantly. "Push the anger away, and listen to me carefully." You swallowed dryly but stared at her. "Wanda emanates a powerful magical signature. More powerful than anything I have ever faced, and I am centuries old, Miss L/N. She needs to learn to channel that power, or that power will overwhelm her."

You think you've stopped breathing. "I-I don't...she'll be fine. She's learning, right?"

The Elder softens her expression, holding your wrist. "Not here. You've taught her everything you can, and she's better, but it's still not enough." She says, staring at you. "Wanda's power is not pure, Miss L/N. Witches are descendants of Hecate, the goddess of the Earth but Wanda has another blessing. Something darker, more potent. She needs help, and I can't help her here."

You pull your hand back. "That's not very comforting, ma'am."

The woman offers you a sad smile. "Some time ago, teachings were stolen from us. A dark book by a dark witch. Only other witches can help Wanda, Miss L/N."

"Didn't you just say that witchcraft was forbidden?"

The Elder crosses her hands in front of her body, smiling softly. "It would be hypocritical of me to persecute other practitioners of magic just because they don't follow my customs, don't you think?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "When do we have to leave?"

"I meant what I said before, I wasn't kicking anyone out." She says. "When I told Wanda, she was reluctant. Our teachings are similar to witchcraft in some ways, and so they bring her comfort. But she won't be able to fool herself for much longer, Y/N. A Sorcerer could train for centuries and still not be able to produce a third of the power of a witch. Wanda needs to know her own nature."

You sigh, looking away, through the living room window to the gardens where she practices, seeming at peace.

"Where do I find witches?"

The old woman smiles, "They are everywhere." She jokes, before moving to write on a piece of paper an address of where to start.

She hands it to you but keeps holding it. "What else should I know, Uncle fester?"

The woman chuckles, playfully slapping you on the shoulder before completing, "With great strength, great affliction can fill one's heart. Many witches lose themselves to their power, grow unsatisfied with their limits, and lose their essence to sacrifices. Wanda will need someone to be there for her, reminding her of what really matters."

You swallow dryly, nodding in agreement. The door opens behind you, but before you leave, you turn to the Elder again. "Wong kind of invited me to Karaoke night, is it okay if we stay until Friday?"

The bald woman laughs, shoving the door in your face.

–//–

The night in Nepal was beautiful and starry above you, the street crowded around you. Wanda carried a backpack with her - It was the only thing you had with you, as the other bags were sent to the Tower earlier.

It was the last night in Nepal, and you wanted to have some fun before returning home.

"Wong said it was this way." She muttered, pointing in the direction of the right-hand corner. Everything was busy, bars, restaurants, and food carts full. You threw an arm over her shoulders suddenly, a cell phone in hand.

"Say Namastē!" That's your warning before you take a picture of Wanda laughing and hiding her face in your collarbone. She sees you send the selfie to the group with all the avengers, which makes her smile. But when you forward the photo to another number, her curiosity wins out.

"To whom...?"

"Yelena, of course." You clarify before she even finishes. You are so excited to talk about your pretty friend. "She got a safe line a while back. She hasn't gotten used to all this stuff yet, but she likes knowing I'm okay."

"Very sweet." Wanda wryly but you don't notice, distracted in sending the photo. The brunette looks around and exclaims, "How about we get drunk?"

You hesitate softly. "Hmm, I don't... I mean, I've never-"

She looks at you in surprise. "Wait, you've never had alcohol? Really? Not even for missions as a cover?"

You roll your eyes. "I have tasted alcohol, of course." You clarify. "But I don't get drunk, Wanda. Different resistance, remember? But have you?"

"Sure, a few times." Wanda retorts, arm entwined in yours to guide you to the bar. "I went out drinking with the Resistance guys almost every weekend, and Pietro would often get drunk on our birthdays. Not to mention that Sokovia was cold as hell. There was always something alcoholic around."

You smile at the information. You like to imagine Wanda like this, having a normal adolescence in Sokovia, even if it is far from the truth. It brings you some comfort that it wasn't all about war, and that she found happiness in those stolen moments.

She must know what she is doing now - and you suspect Wong is part of it - because the bar you are in has a private area behind it, and the bartender gives Wanda a gentle wave as she lets you two in.

And when you descend into this new area of the bar, the drinks on the shelves look like nothing you've ever seen, and that's when you see a sea monster drinking colorful beer out of a mug, your suspicions are confirmed.

"I don't think it's polite to stare, darling. No matter how fascinating it is." Wanda teases from your side, and you grimace softly.

"Next time you could give me a heads up. Hey, we're going to a magic bar. Be prepared." You retort and it's her turn to laugh, leading the way to one of the tables at the back.

As soon as you order your drinks, Wanda clarifies to your curiosity that Wong brought her to this bar as a welcome, wanting to impress her about the world she didn't know. It worked, and for you too.

"Do you think magic drinks will get me drunk?" You ask as the glasses are left on the table. Wanda grabs hers first, raising it to mouth height. The way she looks at you affects you more than any drink.

"I guess we'll find out." She challenges back, and you swallow dryly, thinking it best to turn your glass over before you say something stupid.

It turns out that magic drinks are not made for getting drunk - that's what regular alcohol is for after all.

Magical drinks have the most diverse functions, and Wanda shouldn't be surprised that you didn't read the menu before ordering the same thing she did.

"I feel funny." That was the first thing you said as soon as the liquid fell into your stomach. "There's something... different."

Wanda raises her eyebrow, wiping the remaining liquor from her lips with her tongue. You blink, almost able to taste it. She leans over to get a better look at your glass.

"Oh, honey, you ordered the same as me didn't you?" It's a rhetorical question, one you would have no way of answering now, too focused on how good Wanda smells. Very good. "Take a deep breath, don't panic. This is called Īgalabāṭō, something like eagle sense. I came to a magic bar to see if we could locate some witches. But I don't have super senses and you do. The drink is giving me the ability to read magical auras, but it's increasing yours to the full extent. Try to stay calm..."

"Shit, that's not good." You lower your head into your arms, feeling it spinning. You can smell everything, taste everything, and hear the sounds even of the forming in the street. Your head feels like it's going to explode.

"You need to focus on something, detka. The effect is temporary, but it will bother you as long as you're feeling it." She directs, and you gasp with your eyes closed. Wanda reaches out to stroke your wrist, and it is her heartbeat that you decide to pay attention to.

The whole thing doesn't last more than five minutes, but it seems like an eternity. That must be why the drinks are cheap - the effect is short, and people must consume intensely to maintain it.

"I'll never do this again." You mutter once you manage to open your eyes again.

Wanda lets out a soft chuckle. "It's okay, sweetheart. Just try to heed the warnings. Why don't you ask for something that will make you calmer?"

"Now I'm afraid to drink anything." You murmur. Wanda strokes your wrist and you almost miss being able to feel each touch as intently as before.

"Tell you what, go to the bar and ask the Bartender what she would recommend for a first-timer. And while you're doing that, I'll introduce myself to the witch sitting two tables from here."

It takes all your mental control not to look up right away, and then you sigh. "Are you sure you want to do this alone?"

Wanda smiles. "Wong told me that witches are suspicious by nature, but tend to be more tolerant of their own kind. Approaching an unknown witch with someone as strong as you might give the wrong impression."

"I'll go to the bar, then. Shout if you need help, but I doubt it." You offer her a wink, taking your half-full glass to the bar, and Wanda sighs before going the opposite way.

The bartender is a half-horsewoman and for a second you wonder if the effect of the potion was giving you hallucinations. Clearing your throat, you ask the question Wanda suggested and are pleased with the centaur woman's kindness in explaining to you about the drinks at the bar in detail.

"[...] I noticed you asked for the Eagle, which I would never recommend for an enhanced one." She comments, and you clear your throat awkwardly.

"How do you know...?" She gives a little laugh as she interrupts you, pointing to a picture hanging behind the bar. It's the Avengers, and you're in it. "Oh, right. I forgot I'm famous."

She giggles again, bending down to pick up a clear bottle. "Technically, since if you've had Eagle, you're no longer a first-timer, but I'm going to be nice to you. This one is called Satya hō, and it's for you to tell me exactly what you want."

"Oh, that sounds interesting." You murmur innocently, missing the glint of mischief in her gaze. Grabbing the small glass she poured, you take a deep breath. "Well, good luck to me." You say before turning a sip full.

It doesn't taste like anything, which is a little disappointing because the previous one was incredible - Probably because it stimulates all your taste buds at once. - But this one doesn't even taste like water. It was like drinking nothing.

"Fuck, I thought it would taste like coconut water." You declare with a laugh, and the girl smiles, taking the glass back.

"So honey, how are you feeling?"

You shrug. "Same as before, just a little upset that the drink didn't do me any good." You reply. "I wanted something that tasted nice. Sweet."

" All right, I've got some options for you." She murmurs, moving to grab other bottles. But your attention differs back to Wanda talking to a witch at the end table, and you sigh before turning your attention back to the bartender, who has held out some bottles for you.

"Sweet drinks are usually linked to emotions, cupcake. So we have Blue Ḍalphina, for sexual affective stimulation, this one here that's called Light Pink, to increase connection-"

"What the fuck, are they all love potions?" You cut in an impressed laugh. The bartender smiles, nodding softly.

"Technically, yes. Although love isn't really possible to put in a bottle."

You hum, looking at the jars as you mumble. "It's not like a love potion is going to do me any good." You retort. "They don't work on people who are already in love do they?"

The girl raises a curious eyebrow. "I've heard that they don't. But who's the lucky one?"

You blink away from the bottles, half confused. "What lucky one?"

She doesn't seem surprised by your confusion, licking her lips as she repeats, "You said you were in love. Is it for the pretty girl who came with you?"

You sigh, a silly smile filling your lips. "Oh, Wanda? Yes, she's pretty, isn't she? She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. Did you know that when she wakes up, her eyes are a darker shade of green than normal? And her voice is so husky and her accent is thicker..."

"Okay, Romeo, you need to tell her that not me." The bartender cuts you off with a laugh. You almost whimper in fear.

"No, I can't tell her that!" You retort. "She's my best friend, my most important person in the world. If I ruin everything, I'll never forgive myself. She's worth more than a stupid crush."

The girl sighs, shrugging. "I don't know, buddy. That doesn't sound like a stupid crush." She murmurs, and seeing your annoyance, pushes back one of the glasses gently. "How about a little courage?"

You swallow dryly, hesitating. "M-maybe not. I want to be ready for real, I don't want it to be just because of a spell."

"It's your call, sweetie." She assures meekly, and you sigh taking your eyes off the orange drink.

"What about these others?"

While you were testing drinks, Wanda was having her patience tested.

"[...] Well, baby witch, I couldn't tell you about others, could I? We are not a very open community." Wanda knew that this woman had a magical signature - Weak, even with the drinking - but still existing. Now pulling out information really was Natasha's skill. Damn, she missed her training with the widow. If Nat were here, she could figure it all out in two seconds, she was sure.

"I don't want to seem nosy, of course." Wanda tries to get into the game with forced smiles. "I've come a long way, and I haven't made any friends of my... people. If you know what I mean. When I felt your magic, I figured you could help a sister."

The witch adjusted her hair behind her shoulder. "You felt my magic, huh? Very flirtatious of you." Wanda giggled nervously, feeling her face heat up. "You're awfully cute, but I'm sadly engaged. Perhaps you'll have some chance of seducing some nymphé at the end of the bar."

Wanda swallows dryly, not quite knowing what to say about it. Luckily, a tall, lanky man approaches them to speak to the witch.

"I'll be right out, Marie, my target left the bar five minutes before us. But thanks for the tip anyway." Says the man, and leans gently toward the woman. "And keep your coven girls under control, will you? I don't hear about any more trouble outside Salem. This is Sorceress territory."

He forces a polite smile at Wanda, who tries not to think too much about the shiny dagger at his waist or the scar on his eye.

Marie, who had not revealed her name until now, immediately notices that Wanda has listened to the entire conversation intently. She dismisses her friend, and when Wanda clears her throat, making mention of getting up, she holds her by the wrist. And this time, her magical signature screeches out.

"You must be a powerful little witch." Marie whispers, studying the younger girl's face, "To be able to sense my magic with a cheap potion. But you look so lost... What's the matter sweet child, nobody claimed you for a coven?"

Wanda stammered, surprised and uncomfortable with the way Marie seemed to be mocking her. She tensed when the witch brought her fingers to her cheek. "I-I don't know any coven." She confessed and had the impression that she had no choice but to do so. Marie's dark eyes suddenly so deep in her mind, overshadowing the entire bar.

"Oh, poor little thing." Murmured the woman. "Who was it that left you alone without instruction in this anti-witchcraft territory?"

"I-I..."

"Miss Laveau, I am sorry to interrupt." It was an employee of the bar, a security guard perhaps. And he had a phone in hand. Marie moved her hand away from Wanda's face - Who started breathing normally again - but continued to hold her wrist. "It's your girls again. Some trouble I fear. A fight with Werewolves. You'd better get there before the hunters."

Marie cursed in another language, before nodding in thanks to the security guard who left. She let go of Wanda, who hugged her own wrist, to grab her coat hanging from the chair. But before she left, she leaned over to speak.

"A Coven is the only family a witch can truly have, Wanda Maximoff." She declared, and the smaller witch raised wide-eyed at her. Marie held up her hand and turned Wanda's face toward the bar with a gentle nudge on her chin. "Your little pet won't last, dear. Everyone turns their back on witches eventually."

Wanda faces her with a soft snort. "Don't talk about her, you don't know nothing-"

"I don't need to know her." Marie cuts in seriously, lowering her hands to put them in her pockets. "Witches belong to their coven, or they die. There is no middle ground, Wanda. Walk alone and you won't last long."

Marie turns around, and Wanda takes a hesitant step toward her. "How do I find one?"

The witch looked at her over her shoulder. "They find you. And I find it odd, that a witch of age remained unclaimed. Where were you hiding all this time, sweet baby?" Marie leaves her with that question, walking away. Wanda tries to follow her figure with her gaze, but she has the impression that she is still bewitched because the woman practically disappears.

She decides to put her doubts away and come back to you in the bar, maybe sharing what she has discovered will help you to have some idea.

She didn't expect to find you in such a... needy state.

"Wanda! She's here, my best friend! Hi Wanda, I missed you!" You declare excitedly as soon as she arrives at your side, wasting no time in throwing her arms around your neck. Wanda almost loses her balance, laughing confusedly and exchanging a look with the bartender, who is discreetly taking other drinks out of your reach.

"Oh, what did you have?" she asks curiously, completely clueless by the way you are way too close.

You giggle against her collarbone, before turning away to answer. "So many things! Two pinks, a blue one, a green one, even the transparent one..."

Wanda looked at the bartender. "Is that safe?"

The centaur shrugged. "She's an avenger, I suppose it is." She retorted, and the answer made Wanda's eyes glow red. The centaur cleared her throat. "She'll be fine, m-ma'am. The effect will have worn off by tomorrow."

Wanda forced a smile, before turning her attention back to you, her eyes the normal color now. "We'll get you a place to sleep, sweetheart."

The centaur cleared her throat as Wanda helped you stand. "We have rooms for rent. On the second floor."

Wanda nodded in thanks, and it was a very difficult battle to get you upstairs with the way you clung to her.

At some point, you stumbled into the room, and you somehow - Wanda was sure it was the muscle memories of the training - knocked her onto the bed, climbing all over her, and pressing your lips to her neck.

"God help me." Wanda murmured affectedly to the ceiling, her hands on your waist. You giggled drunkenly, but not traditionally.

"I am a god indeed. Glad to help." You murmur back.

Wanda chuckled, giving your waist a gentle squeeze to pull away, and she immediately regretted it, the way your dark eyes were staring back at her, it was even more disconcerting than before. "Y-you're drunk, and gods don't get drunk." She recalls, her breath hitching as you put your hands on the side of her head.

"That's a myth, Thor gets drunk all the time."

"Maybe he's not a very strong god..." She tries to keep the conversation going, her eyes closing on instinct by the way you are leaning in.

"Oh, blasphemy." You tease lowly against her lips. And the rubbing is enough for Wanda to regain what little consciousness she still has left. She turns her face away, and you kiss her jaw, grunting in frustration on her skin. She gasps, taking advantage of your shock to push you onto the bed and stand.

"You're bewitched, Y/N. You need to sleep." She rations, but you whimper against the pillow like a child before turning your face to her, almost whimpering.

"But I wanted a kiss."

Wanda giggles nervously, her cheeks burning. "Detka, we can't kiss. We're friends."

You huff. "That's not fair. I won't be your friend then, I'll be your detka. Just your babe."

Wanda's heart inflates with warmth before it breaks. She assumes, immediately, that this is the potion speaking. Swallowing the emotion away, she tries to coax you to sleep.

"You are my detka and my friend, but I need you to sleep. Can you do that for me?"

You begrudgingly close your eyes. "Yeah, I can do anything for you. Anything you ask. Because you are pretty and I love you."

Wanda chokes softly, twiddling her fingers. "Y/N?"

"Hm?"

"How do you love me?" She tries, and you hum again, by the time she goes to repeat it, you have fallen asleep judging by your deep breathing.

Wanda breathes in and out, trying not to panic. She loves you, of course. Friends love each other. And of course, you do too.

Fuck, since when have you looked so gorgeous in your sleep?

Wanda leaves the room with labored breathing. She goes back to the bar, looking for something to help her stop shivering.

–//–

"Looks like you two had a fun night."

You and Wanda grunted in distress at Clint's teasing. Everything seemed so loud and clear.

"How did you find us?" Wanda managed to ask, pushing the top cover off her body that covered more of the chair than her. You hid your face under the pillow. The archer shrugged.

"Wong mentioned this place when we knocked at his door, and when you guys didn't show up for the meeting point, Nat and I did a little searching. She's having the time of her life down here, but I reckon I'm too old to deal with mythological creatures."

"I'm dying." You complain on the mattress, your head bursting with pain. "Somebody do something."

Clint laughs. "Wow, you have a hangover? The first time is really the hardest. How did you manage to get her drunk, Maximoff?"

Wanda shakes her head softly - regretting it - and retorts, "She mixed magic potions, I had nothing to do with it. Where you guys left the quinjet, I can't wait to get home and use a bathtub."

Wanda tickles your feet on the way to the door, effectively making you laugh and awaken begrudgingly. She pushed through the bitter feeling of ignoring yesterday's events for the sake of your friendship and nodded to Clint as she said she was going to find out if a magic bar had aspirin.

You sat up in bed and frowned as you touched your shirt over your chest, unbuttoned and without a bra.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Everything okay there?"

"Fuck I don't remember anything from last night. You don't think me and Wanda..." You looked back at your bra on top of the chair where she was sleeping and chuckled nervously. "N-no, no chance. We didn't... I wouldn't have forgotten. I didn't-"

"Wow, that's interesting gossip." Clint sneers, laughing when you threaten him with a pillow. "Hey, don't take your frustration out on me. And by the way, know that it's quite possible to forget. What did you drink anyway?"

"Everything." You mutter in shame, sinking your face into the bed, "Kill me, I won't live with this humiliation."

"God, I forgot how dramatic you are." He mutters wearily. "Let's go home, okay? We have a visitor in the tower."

You move your face, raising a curious eyebrow. "Who?"

Clint smiles, "The only true god of the group of course." He teases, and this time you throw the pillow in his face.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff needs a hug

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vladdyissues · 21 days

Text

Being in the Danny Phantom fandom has enriched my life in many ways. Artistically, through learning new drawing styles and writing tones and genres—but also scientifically. Specifically, it introduced me to the works of Carl Sagan.

How? Well, I needed something for Vlad and Danny to be watching in chapter 12 of Familiar. I randomly chose Cosmos, the series written and hosted by Carl Sagan. Like any obsessive good author, I ended up watching the episode that featured in the story. This is neat stuff, I thought. I'll have to come back and watch the whole series later.

Well, I did. And I found a copy of Sagan's Billions and Billions: Thoughts on Life and Death at the Brink of the Millennium at my local library. It's been a long time since I read nonfiction for the sake of learning, but I fell back into the groove easily (which reopened the door to—and rekindled an interest in—science and continuing my informal education). In short, I ended up loving Carl.

I'm close to the end of Billions of Billions, which has occupied a semi-permanent spot on my bedside table for several weeks. Last night, as I went to turn off my lamp, I reached over the back cover of the book, upon which Carl's kind, smiling photograph looked wistfully to the upper corner.

I wish I had known him, I thought.

Carl died of complications of MDS in December 1996.

That night, as usual, I had dreams. As one segued into another, I found myself wandering around a classroom laboratory with several other students, where apparently we were gathering for an after-school club of sorts. (I think it was some kind of week-long extracurricular event.) As I was trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing, I heard a voice say, "There you are."

I turned and saw Carl Sagan—my professor. He was smiling.

"We've missed you. It's been a week."

I can't imagine, even in dreams, skipping a class taught by the Carl Sagan. Before I could stammer out an excuse, he waved his hand.

"Don't worry about it. At least you made it to the last meeting. Come on, it's just starting."

I don't know what happened after that. Everything was put on fast forward and 1x speed only returned as the meeting adjourned and students began to disperse. I felt as if I'd missed out on everything—a recurring theme in most of my dreams, especially academic-based ones.

And then Carl, still smiling, approached me. The next thing I knew, he was hugging me tightly. Stunned (and elated, I can't lie), I hugged him back. He had mass and warmth. I felt the bones of his back and scapulae beneath the thick velveteen layers of his brown corduroy jacket. His chin pressed my shoulder.

"I love you," he said, and I could hear his patient smile.

I think I responded. I don't know. I was overwhelmed. We parted, he turned, and disappeared. No goodbye or farewell, no instruction on what to do next. Just the words I love you glowing inside me like a new star.

Would he have said something like that in reality? I don't know. All I know is that this was my dream and he did.

Then this particular dream episode ended and I reluctantly moved on to the next one.

I don't put much stock in the supernatural these days, but I it was nice to have my wish of "meeting" Carl Sagan granted in this small, abstract way.

#danny phantom #carl sagan #dreams #personal #fic: familiar #who knew getting into the phandom would result in all this #i mean. putting aside the info and just looking at the friends i've made...#i'm just really glad to be here guys #🌠

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rainbowchewynuggets · 8 months

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youtube

IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE

I've been grinding away at this for months. I can't wait for people to see it. This project turned out to have a lot of gears behind it, so check out the artist statement below!

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

I love this song. The first time I heard it, I already began picturing a story where a woman stumbled upon a gathering of birds in the forest and became so enthralled by their song that she partied with them until she became a bird, herself. It turns out that isn’t too far off from the singer, Yma Sumac’s, first experiences learning to sing. She would imitate the animals near her home in the hills of the Andes mountains as a very young kid, developing a vocal range that would make her famous later on.

From there, I fell into a montage of research on her life and the Peruvian festival music that defined her early career, as well as the complicated story of the exotica music she became most known for in the United States. I followed that up with a month-long dive into northwest Peruvian culture, mythology, ornithology, flora, and topographical studies. Then, I blacked out somewhere during the drawing phase, and now I’m here.

While I really value what I’ve learned while doing this project, I think it’s important to note that I did it all as an amateur researcher and a foreigner to the subject. I decided it would be a little conceited to try to make a totally accurate depiction of a traditional Peruvian festival, so I instead focused on referencing the regional variation of these traditions. Costumes and music have their own specific designs and textures depending on the area, and dances and festivities reflect local history. Yet, it all shares the same themes of celebrating prosperity and surviving hardship. Common motifs and characters reflect a shared heritage and cultural identity that coexists with individuality. It’s all just very cool to me.

So I asked myself, what if these birds had their own version of these traditions? What would a bird sing a folk song about? What would be new and cool to Yma, but still familiar enough that she could join in? (I got lucky, since Peruvian festival culture is already very reverent of birds and feather patterns.)

What I ended up with pulled a lot from the Carnaval de Cajamarca, which originated in the next town over from Yma’s childhood home of Ichocán. It also references these dances, among others:

Huaylarsh - Los Emplumados - Marinera - Tondero - White Dance / Los Chunchos

It’s also important to know that I took a lot of creative liberties with my research to pull the story together. I hope I haven’t used any elements in a harmful or insensitive way–and if I have, I’d like to know so that I can apologize. (I also missed out on some cool stuff, like the White Dance always having shaker beads on the legs.) I highly encourage you to have a look at some of the sources I did, and to look further if you’re interested. I found it all very enlightening, and I hope you will too.

Yma’s wikipedia, which seems like a mostly accurate overview based on other sources

Her official website, curated by a fan and friend

A segment on NPR about her musical career

The interview I got the opening from

The ornithology archive that saved my ass

I’d like to work on uploading all the frames as an image reel somewhere so they can be looked at individually. Might take a while, though.

Thanks for watching!

(To those using a screen reader, the video description follows this message. I'd like to apologize for putting the description as the last thing on the post. Not only is it extremely long, but this seemed to be the rare instance where the description would benefit from the context of the post's commentary before being read itself. I wrote and formatted this description in a way that I hoped would apply to aid various disabilities that impede enjoying music videos, and I am very interested in getting feedback.)

DESCRIPTION

[The following is presented as an animatic (a series of still images edited into a video) set to music. The art is drawn with condensed yet fuzzy pastel-like linework and full color. The song used is “Chuncho” by Yma Sumac. The song was composed to imitate the various sounds of tropical birds and animals. It has no lyrics, at least in a traditional sense. I, the describer, have tried my best to translate the especially abstract nature of this song into language that can be interpreted through text. Please use the best of your imagination to fill in the rest. An audio description will always refer to the visual description that follows it.

Audio: A male interviewer asks, “Since you are referred to the bird who became a woman in your native Peru, Ms. Sumac, may we hear your exotic voice?”

Visuals: A title card appears with gold lettering on a black background. It reads one word: Chuncho. The word is depicted as if it were carved into a flat surface with loose individual strokes.

Audio: A woman answers, “I will try to imitate the birds, as I did in my earliest years in the mountains of Peru.”

Visuals: Credits appear, also in gold text: Sung by Yma Sumac (Zoila Augusta Emperatriz Chàvarri del Castillo. Drawn by Carlie Hughes (rainbowchewynuggets).

Audio: The music begins with the steady four-note strumming of a guitar, which will continue throughout the song. Then, it is accompanied by low ragged notes from a heavy woodwind instrument.

Visuals: A green cicada flicks its wings as it rests on a plant with jagged leaves and a little white flower growing from the middle. Beetles of green, red, and yellow crawl around on trees and ferns among puffy yellow blooms. Yellow humpback beetles huddle together on a cold stone surface as mothlike butterflies cling to hanging purple-grey moss in the background. A cluster of butterflies of black, green, blue, orange, purple, and red flare their wings along stems and vines. A line of spiny cocoons hang from a vine leading up the center of the group.

Audio: A vocalist, the same woman as before, begins to sing in vocables. Her first notes are short, round, and bubbly, like the chirping of a small bird. The lilt of a flute follows.

(“B-bm, bui-bui-buiii…”)

Visuals: A small village sits on the side of a forested and scrub-covered mountain at night. Buildings twinkle with yellow and blue window light through the darkness. At the edge of the forest, a tall lean woman appears with warm orange skin, long black hair, a simple green dress cinched at the waist with blue trim on the neck, hem, wrist, and waist, and a powder blue shawl tied at the chest. She sneaks away from the village into the temperate tropical forest, glancing back to make sure hasn’t been followed. She grows more at ease as she leaves the buildings behind and strides between bushes, deeper into the trees. She passes a flowering plant with orange petals. Its bulbs are held aloft on long, long stems.

Audio: The vocalist sings in elongated threads of notes, wavering in a minor key in a mischievous way.

(“Whu, hu-uuuu…”)

Visuals: The woman grazes her fingers along a bush with little black berries and white spiky flowers. Her hand passes up and down with the shape of the bush, like the rise and fall of an ocean wave. She walks uphill, past pink clover and increasingly frequent stones.

Audio: The vocalist clicks and rolls her tongue with her notes, like drops of water splashing across stones.

(“Dlu, dlu-dlu-dlu-dlu-buiii…”)

Visuals: A voice suddenly gets her attention. The voice passes by as a green line with wide wave forms. The woman follows it. She passes through a stone forest–dense moss-covered rock formations that reach up toward the sky. The ground below is streaked with snake trails. The line of song is now yellow. It leads her forward along a trail through the rocks. She climbs a more precarious formation of boulders, through dense shrubbery and a dramatic rocky landscape. As the voice shifts redder, her colors shift pinker. Even the environment’s colors are shifting to pinks and blues. She climbs a hill, past tall spindly trees and a nearly vertical mountainside. The pink line of song leads her still upward.

Audio: The vocalist belts out the deep throaty call of a tropical bird trying to be heard far and wide. The notes increase in frequency, then widen into a whoop that softens to a murmur. The flute follows her with a few short forceful notes.

(“Ah, bya bya bya-bya-bya-bya-bya-byaaa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-wi, wa-wa-wa wiii…”)

Visuals: When the woman reaches the top of the hill, a light shines up at her from the other side, returning her original colors. Below, she sees a gathering of human-sized bird people celebrating on a leafy platform. They’re dancing in different sized circles around a tree at the center. Rainbow colored ribbons of different lengths have been tied to the branches of the tree and hang down to form the silhouette of a condor. More ribbons and colorful bulbs hang from the leaves above. The line of song (now light blue) travels in a circle around the tree trunk. The camera zooms in, revealing details of the birds and their costumes. The birds are pigeons, hawks, cuckoos, seedbirds, and corvids. They’re all dressed in colorful hats, vests, slacks, and dresses with patterns that reflect those of their feathers. A circle of spotted woodpeckers closest to the trunk wear purple gowns and party hats. The party’s singing expands the blue circle of light. A wider circle of yellow, green, and white birds sit and watch the celebration from the edges of the platform. As a line of bright manakin birds zip by with their hands clasped together, the woman approaches from a nearby branch. She’s enticed by the party and joins the dance, clasping hands with a green parrot and leading the line with a broad smile on her face.

Audio: The vocalist makes a quick sudden series of escalating notes, then makes a hard sound with her teeth and returns to a low whoop. The flute echoes her.

(Ba-bana-baba-cht!, waw waw waw waw waw waw waw wiii…”)

Visuals: The birds switch to individual dances. A short red woodpecker and a tan long-necked bird with ribbons in her hair dance and sing together, their lines of song intertwining. The woman and three pigeons in red and black dresses stomp their heels in a quartet dance. She follows their steps flawlessly, familiar with the type of dance. When they begin to sing and whistle, she joins them–though her voice isn’t as strong as theirs and her line of song is thin and brittle.

Audio: The vocalist makes a low growl, at first imperceptible, that grows to a steady rumble. The flute follows.

(“Rhhh…, rhh, rhh rhhh…”)

Visuals: Then, the lights darken and redden. The woman stops to notice all the other birds heading to the back of the platform. They climb and flutter up to sit in fruit-bearing branches that grow just beyond. The woman finds herself a spot and picks a piece of fruit to eat. She takes a bite as a show begins. A band of various birds wearing ponchos and cloth hats sit down by the show platform. They play their instruments (flute, guitars and a drum) and count in the performance.

Audio: The vocalist makes more short bubbly chirps. They grow higher in small strings of notes until the phrase ends with a low long note.

(“Bom-bom, t-bom-bom-bom, mbom-bom wiii…”)

Visuals: Five owls appear, bathed in magenta spotlight before the center tree trunk. All of them have their yellow-spotted wings wrapped to mostly cover their black and gold-trimmed dresses. The four owls on the sides are short and red, while the one in the center is tall and bright purple. As all five begin to sing a golden song, they operatically open their wings and extend their feathers. As the light darkens to violet, the black and gold patterns in the folds of their wings leap out as if exposed to blacklight. They extend their arms upward and then double over to kneel on the stage, fully splaying their wings in a dramatic display. The woman watching is transfixed.

Audio: The vocalist rolls a noise from the back of her throat. Once, twice, three times–before hitching the roll up and down and letting it trail off. The flute makes a low hollow arc of a note.

(“Ghhh, ghhh, ghh gh-gh-gheee…”)

Visuals: Cut to the next performance. Two teams of blackbirds with long waving feathers compete, standing on each other’s shoulders to form two pyramids. The one at the top of each team lunges forward to try to strike the other with a long stick, propelled by their team. Their feathers glow with yellow light from above. The team on the left—with orange vests and red sashes—strikes first, only nearly missing. They gloat as the lime vest and green sash team on the right recoils and protests. Then, it’s the green team’s turn to take a confident lunge, forcing the red to frantically pull back in time to dodge. On the next strike, the red team buries the stick in the top of the enemy pyramid (actually tucked under the green leader’s arm). The victim feigns a mortal wound, and the entire team flies away. The red team poses, victorious. The red leader gets down to the floor to greet the widow of the green team, wearing a green dress. She peers at him from behind a silky black wing. As soon as he lands, she whacks him over the head with her own concealed stick. He is surprised. She is unamused.

Audio: The vocalist lets out a ghostly wail that wavers wildly like an eerie wind, higher and higher. A shaker instrument rumbles beneath her voice.

(“Woaaa… woaaa… woaa–”)

Visuals: Next, it’s dark. Three colorful birds in masks and costumes tread the air at an angle on the left side of the screen against a blue and green background. There’s a yellow spiky one, representing lightning. A blue round-feathered one, representing rain. And a spade-feathered green one, representing trees. Long beaded threads tied to their wings and tails wave and tangle across the screen as a group of five hummingbirds in shades of red struggle to survive the “storm” raging around them. The colored ribbons of the central tree are muted and flutter with the power of the wind. Two other birds hug the trunk, nearly out of sight. There’s a prop on the floor to the right made to look like a stone alcove, where more hummingbirds are hiding. The storm bringer birds beat their wings hard, casting the strings of lightning, water, and leaf shaped beads in huge chaotic waves. The five hummingbirds in vests and dresses wince and tumble against the wind, flying together in a tight circle. The threads crisscross behind them, an overwhelming force on the tiny birds’ scale. A red line of song floats up to reach them, guiding them down to the nest.

Audio: When her wail is at its highest, the vocalist pushes it further into the voice of a shrill songbird. The note hangs high in the air, then takes a few steps down and up. The segment ends with the sudden interjection of the low round voice–as if in surprise–and a trailing mumble.

(“Haaa, aa-aa aa-aa aa-aa, hoa? Ah, bw-huh…”)

Visuals: Those in the stone nest finish singing and reunite with the others, pulling them down to safety. A blackbird hiding behind the trunk spreads its wings, sitting on the shoulders of a brown woodpecker. The blackbird’s vest and wingspan are covered in yellow, signaling the coming of daylight. The storm birds retreat and sit still on a nearby branch. The wind is suddenly gone.

Audio: The guitar plays alone.

Visuals: After the stage performances, the audience members move back to the platform. They’re gathered off to the far left side of the central tree trunk, standing in a circle around a single figure. The light of the gathering area is deep plum-purple in far off areas and warm dull pink over the crowd. The empty space around the single dancer is salmon red, and the figure herself is blue.

Audio: The vocalist perfectly mimics the sound of a flutter, of delicate waving in the wind.

(“W-w-w-w-w-w-w”)

Visuals: The camera zooms in on her hand as it flits a pink handkerchief in the air.

Audio: The vocalist belts a pair of bold staunch vocables. The second note is held for several seconds before fading out.

(“Kyen, kyen…”)

Visuals: The camera pulls back to reveal the rest of her. She’s a blue eagle with wings that grade from red at the arms to pink to blue at the wingtips in a wavy pattern. Her smiling beak is bright pink. Her dress is royal blue with reddish-pink trimmed ruffles on the hem of the skirt, waist frill, neck frill, and the flower decoration on the side of her head. She stands with the hem of her dress in one hand and the handkerchief extended in the other in an open invitation to dance. A pale pink spotlight frames her head and shoulders against the darkness, and a dark pink line of song passes behind her. Her partner, an eagle of the same coloration with a blue vest and pants, pink shirt, pale orange sash, a blue hat in one hand, and a pink hanky of his own raised in the other, is calling to her. He puts his hands behind his back and takes high steps toward her. When the two are close, they turn and walk parallel to each other in a slow circle. The male’s back is to his partner. He looks at her over his shoulder with a smile and abruptly splays his feathers to be cute. There’s a layer of pink under his outer coat. She grins, entertained.

Audio: The vocalist repeats the two vocables, twisting the end of the second up into a high wavering trill that eventually soothes and disappears.

(“Kyen, kye–eee, ee, eee, ee…”)

Visuals: The two turn to face each other, circling tighter and tighter in unified song until they’re face to face, looking deep into each other’s eyes. With another turn, they’ve passed by each other and out of sight.

Audio: The vocalist makes a whisper, a ghost of the two vocables. Then, a few quick whistles, barely loud enough to hear.

(“Hyo, hyo”)

Visuals: The woman, who has been captivated by the dance, suddenly notices that the crowd has dispersed around her. Partners are walking off in all directions, leaving her alone. The dance is over.

Audio: The guitar picks up, getting faster and louder for a bit.

Visuals: The woman walks alone in the blue night air along a tangle of tree branches that form a pathway. She walks with her hands behind her back, her face looking preoccupied and a little disappointed. Bushels of soft leaves pass by in the background.

Audio: A high, light pleasant note from the vocalist overtakes the guitar. It grows until it fills the soundscape.

(“Aaa…”)

Visuals: An orange song reaches her from the direction she came, and she stops. When she turns, she sees a blue swift standing on the branch path, far behind her in an opening in the trees. The underside of his feathers is dingy orange, and he’s wearing a black vest, white pants, a rusty red sash around his waist, a bright green kerchief around his neck, and an orange rectangular accessory tied around his neck like a necklace. His face is obscured by a white hat with an orange band. He bows low with a hand on the hat. The hat comes off, revealing inviting eyes and a smiling orange beak. The woman grins and accepts the invitation with determination.

Audio: The vocalist draws long high vocables that resemble a wail. They trail off with a low note.

(“Whoa whoaaa…”)

Visuals: She and the swift untie the fabric around their necks and step toward each other as the line of song forms a ring above them. The woman holds the ends of the shawl in her hands and her hands at her hips with the body of the shawl hanging behind her waist. The bird holds his kerchief out in one hand with the hat in the other, held behind his back. He takes measured winding steps along the branches. The woman mirrors his steps, then pushes off of the main path and lands on an outcropping branch.

Audio: The vocalist’s song wavers back up and demurely bobs up and down, intertwined with tweeting from the flute.

(“Hoa… ohee…”)

Visuals: Her voice, seafoam green and a little stronger than before, trails behind her. She darts back onto the main branch and ducks behind the bird, then circles around to face him, the two only a few feet apart. They exchange steps pushing the other forward and back and flicking their garments in time with their movements. The woman’s voice grows stronger, nearly matching his. The bird quickly catches up as she moves backward, dancing beside her. The two dancers then leap from the main branch and fall down into the rocky forest below, passing by grassy plateaus and vines creeping through stone. Their song follows all the way down. They leap across boulders in the moonlight, side by side. The swift suddenly stops and folds his kerchief around the center of the shawl, hitching the two together.

Audio: The vocalist belts a complex series of syllables that mimic the heavy majestic cawing of a large bird or hawk. The flute makes itself known a little as the voice fades out.

(“Hlau-lau-lau hau-au-wau-wa-wiii…”)

Visuals: The woman, at the receiving end of the momentum, is swung wide and lets out a vibrant complex line of song that could match any bird’s. The two pull closer to each other and end their song on a low steady note. Then, they bow to each other as the camera pulls back. They’re standing on a rock that rises above a basin of water among huge formations of rock. Pairs of birds dance all around them in the shallows.

Audio: The guitar takes over for a bit.

Visuals: The camera cuts to an upward view of a varied group of birds sitting in branches, staring downward with interest. The light from the moon coming down through a break in the trees above is now cool green. The light coming up from where the birds are looking is orange-red.

Audio: The vocalist lets out the aggressive growling of a cat.

(“U-wau, wau-wau-wau-wau”)

Visuals: Below, the woman is dancing in a line with three reddish woodpeckers in a greenish clearing in the trees. They wear intricately detailed dresses in different combinations of bright green, yellow, red, and black with geometric and floral embroidery. The dresses are cinched at the waist with a piece of fabric covered in colored bands. Their heads are covered in scarves with the same colors and patterns. They sing and step aggressively toward the left of the screen. At the other side of the clearing, a line of four red and white faced woodpeckers with green beaks and wings face right. They wear bright green hats, kerchiefs, and sashes, yellow and black striped vests, and dark red pants with yellow tassels at the ankles. Their black shoes tap against the ground as they make quick little dance steps and flutter yellow handkerchiefs. They hold onto the brims of their hats and then lean down with a flourish of their arms, exposing the red crests of their heads sticking up underneath. The dance then changes formation. The girls dance in a line to the left as the boys step in a line to the right.

Audio: The growl hushes down to a wavering whisper, like wings beating in the dark.

(“Tchwahh-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah…”)

Visuals: Out on a cliff by a waterfall, the scene is bathed in cyan. The line of dancers–alternating male, female, male, female–do a hopping dance from partners on the left to those on the right and back again as they move along the cliff, passing behind the waterfall as it disappears into the greenery in the foreground.

Audio: The guitar asserts itself again.

Visuals: Everything is suddenly red. A guitarist in a blue poncho and a red neck sash frets the neck of a guitar with a brown feathered hand. Rainbow ribbons are tied to the headstock. A deep orange song emanates from the strings.

Audio: The vocalist quickly accompanies the guitar with a harmonized version of the growl that revs up climatically, taking steps up the scale until it’s at its absolute height.

(“U-wa-wa ee-ee eh-oh! Oh-oh-oh-ohh!”)

Visuals: A congress of the partygoing birds stand in lines facing each other, all wearing blue outfits with red kerchiefs with rainbow tassels on them. The group jumps up and down in unison as part of a dance. The party breaks into smaller dances, and the woman dances by herself. She’s wearing a green skirt and flowy purple top with red underskirt, waist cinch, and scarf. Rainbow tassels are attached to the overskirt, and they swish with her movements. Beside her are a hawk woman and a pair of long billed bird men dancing in a circle with their ankles locked. A pair of red birds with white streaks on their wings suddenly hoist the woman into the air, as other birds are hoisted in the distance. As she’s held aloft, she sings and spreads her arms, revealing more tassels on her top, resembling wings. Her song is immense and beautiful. The camera focuses on one of the hoisted birds in the background, who has executed a handstand with the person who threw them. The blackbird’s feathers are all sorts of bright colors. The song passes by behind him. The excitement of the party disguises the presence of a looming pair of yellow slitted eyes peering out from a dark spot between the leaves nearby. A trio of purple pigeons dancing in a line with twigs and colored strings in their hands dip and weave together. The one in front balks, noticing the threat at last.

Audio: The high energy of the music suddenly cuts out. The shrill call of a small bird climbs up out of the silence.

(“Eee…”)

Visuals: A striped short legged pampas cat pounces into the center of the dance field. It misses the birds, but the illusion is shattered. The bird people are just birds again. They fly in a frenzy up through the trees to the safety of the early morning sky. The hilltop erupts with silhouettes of wings.

Audio: When the small bird’s call is at its highest, it tumbles back down and transforms into a low disquieting wail. The guitar re-enters.

(“Ee-ee-ee-ah-ahh ahh oohhh…”)

Visuals: The pampas cat has retreated into the dim tawny forest. It stands on a bent tree branch among bushes and hanging moss and stares into the camera with glowing yellow pupils. A tiny rodent scurries by and into a bush. The cat notices and darts after it. Nearby, dozens of bats hang from the underside of a rock formation that extends over a field of berry bushes. Their sleepy heads are tucked into their folded wings. A straggler flaps up to join the rest as the sun continues to rise. Elsewhere, a hive with wasp-like insects resting on the outside hangs over a rock. Sunlight gleams over the scene from a break in the trees in the background. A large brown mouse climbs up on the rock, backlit by the sun. It grabs a wasp in its teeth and leaves before the rest of the hive can wake up.

Audio: The vocalist makes a low steady murmur. A couple shakes from the shaker instrument follow.

(“Hoo…”)

Visuals: A colony of green and brown frogs with purple eye ridges, yellow faces, and orange bellies are asleep on dewy ridges of rock. A green cicada hangs out on a leaf off to the top left corner. The mouse jumps down through their resting spot, waking them all up. The frogs croak a green song as the cicada hangs on for dear life on the swinging leaf. The wind moans through the crevices of another stone forest. The little flowering shrubs that grow on the rocks bristle in the breeze. A variety of green, yellow, and blue lizards poke their heads out of the rocks, into the morning light.

Audio: The vocalist repeats the murmur. The flute follows this time.

(“Hoo…”)

Visuals: The camera pulls back to view the entire rock formation. The still rising sun shines only on the top half of right-facing stones. Long spindly tree trunks grow from the top left, out of sight. Long grass waves on the ground below. An alpaca-like vicuña raises its head from the long grass, facing the light. In the branches of the trees above, various birds perch facing left.

Audio: The vocalist makes a mysterious sound that begins as a harsh sound between her teeth and ends as a whisper. It echoes in the background.

(“Chwah-ah…”)

Visuals: The camera turns back to the village. Golden light casts diagonally across the brown roofs and tan buildings. The silhouette of a small bird flies toward the center of town.

Audio: The vocalist makes the sound again, then pulls the whisper up into a harsh repeated rasp from the back of her throat.

(“Chwah-ah qwah-qw-qw-qw-qw-qwah-qwah-qwah”)

Visuals: Down in between the one-story houses, the bird flutters down. Long shadows lay across a passage leading toward a door on the side of a building. We see the shadow of the woman land in the soft dirt path where the bird’s would have. She heads toward the door at a walking pace.

Audio: The call returns to a whisper. The vocalist clicks her throat in a short series of hollow sounds, nearly like the creaking of wood.

(“Qwk-qwk-qwk-qwk-qwk, qwk qwk qwk qwk”)

Visuals: As she opens the door to enter the purple interior light of the house, we see that she’s back in her green dress, but now her shawl is red. The sun glints in her hair. Before she goes inside, she looks back and winks at the camera with a smile. Then, she slowly pulls the door behind her until it’s shut.

Audio: The vocalist lets out her breath entirely as the accompanying music trickles into silence.

(“Haaa…”)

Visuals: The screen is black for a few seconds.

Audio: The high whistling call of a green manakin can be heard over the rustling of forest trees. The call’s tone is raised at the end, like it’s asking a question.

(“Twee?… Twee?… Twee?… Twee?”)

Visuals: The end card appears. Yellow and green lettering and a border lay on a black background. The text reads: Yma Sumac. Peruvian soprano and composer. October 13th 1922 until November 1st 2008. Biographical and reference info in description. Chuncho, 1953. Written by Moises Vivanco. Capitol Records, Universal Music Publishing Group. Carlie Hughes. Tumblr @rainbowchewynuggets. www.carliehughes.com. End ID]

INDEX

#chuncho song #animatic #chuncho animatic #night festival animatic #the night festival #yma sumac #the birds #the forest creatures #this was supposed to go up on her birthday but i got sick aaa #Youtube

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lnfours · 10 months

Text

summer loving (twelve) ⎸t.h

⌙ summary: your mom and tom’s mom grew up together, swearing that their kids would be life long friends. and it was true, the holland boys were a special part of your life. but on the annual trip to their beach house this summer, everything feels different. and that’s because it is. -> welcome to the official last chapter of the series! last chapter was the end of their story, so this chapter is short because it’s an epilogue, just a way for you to see where the characters are now. plus, a little look into the future is always interesting :

⌙ au: based on the book and tv show ‘the summer i turned pretty’ by jenny han. childhood friends to lovers

⌙ wc: 778

⌙ warnings: fluff. fluff. and more fluff.

⌙ pairing: tom holland x fem!reader

masterlist ⎸ chapter eleven ⎸ listen

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the sun was shining down brightly on the little beach town you and tom had grown to fall in love with. this place was your home for the summer, a home away from home. it was where you two had first met, where you realized you were in love with each other, where he taught you how to slow dance in the living room, all of it.

you smiled as tom parked the car in the driveway, nikki opening up the front door with a smile. you watched as she bent down onto her knees, laughing as she was suddenly trapped in 2 pairs of arms that belonged to your toddlers.

“grandma!”

“hey, kids,” she smiled, ruffling your son’s hair as she pulled them closer, “miss me?”

you smiled, “we did.”

she smiled back up at the two of you before hugging you both. you laughed into her embrace as she talked about how big the kids had gotten.

it was true, time flies when you’re having fun. and spending your dream life with the love of your life.

“c’mon, honey,” nikki said, waving you inside, “everyone’s inside.”

you and tom followed her inside and were immediately greeted with hugs and high fives. you smiled as you hugged your mom, the toddlers letting go as you approached, knowing it was your turn.

“hi, mom,” you smiled, hugging her. she hugged you back tightly, pulling tom in for a hug. he smiled, pulling away shortly after.

you three spent the next couple minutes catching up before the door opened again. you smiled as you watched austin walk through the door, his fiancé following close behind. you smiled at them, greeting them.

however, you were nearly knocked over when your little boy and girl came flying past you, “uncle austin!”

he smiled, crouching down as they both wrapped their arms around his neck, he picked them up, “hey, kiddos. listening to your mom?”

the kids laughed as you shook your head, “less and less everyday.”

“good,” your brother joked, “you two learn from the best.”

you rolled your eyes, playfully slapping his arm. you greeted his fiancé, making sure she felt comfortable before moving to sit back down next to your husband. you watched as your kids played with your brother, smiling as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“tired?” he asked, putting an arm around you and drawing circles into your arm. you hummed back a response, to which he raised an eyebrow, “hmm?”

you nodded, “yeah, the kids woke me up early this morning because they were too excited.”

he laughed, kissing your hair, “we were them once, y’know. a long, long time ago.”

you smiled, “i know. its just hard to believe we’re not still that young. it’s like it went full circle.”

“well, if it helps, you’re still as beautiful as the day i met you.” he said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him gently as you both laughed.

“no, it doesn’t,” you giggled, turning to face him, “we’re not that old, are we?”

he shook his head, “nah, we’re still young. still full of hope.”

you laughed again, opening your mouth to say something until you were cut off by the sound of the doorbell. you spring up to your feet to answer, pulling open the door and smiling wide.

“hey, kat!” you smiled, pulling your best friend in for a hug.

she hugged you back tightly, “hey, hot stuff! where’re the kids?”

“outside with austin,” you smiled, “where’s yours?”

your question got answered as soon as you asked it, the little boy running past his mom and up the steps. you squatted down, opening your arms as he wrapped his little ones around your neck.

“there he is!” you laughed, picking him up as you stood up, “how’re you, bub? being good for mom?”

he gave a little smile as he nodded, “yeah!”

kat’s husband had joined her on the step with the bags. you said hi to him and walked inside with their son on your hip. immediately, he wanted to get down to run to uncle tom.

“uncle tom!” the little boy said. tom laughed as the boy came crashing into his legs.

“hey, brian! what’s up, little man?”

you smiled as you watched the interaction. if it wasn’t for the beach house, none of this would’ve been possible. you and the hollands wouldn’t had gotten so close, you and tom might not have ever ended up together.

and summers would’ve stayed boring forever. but now, they’re full of fun filled days and cozy nights, surrounded with all the people you love.

nothing could get better than this.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

💌 beings my tagged list has gotten so long that tumblr literally won't let me add it, the tagged list is temporarily closed until i can figure it out. in the meantime, be sure to follow and turn on notifications for @toms-gf to be notified whenever i post imagines :)

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stargazingcarol · 1 year

Text

Into the blue, out of the blue.

Part one: Into the blue.

CHAPTER 3

Pairing: Jake Lockley x reader, Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader

Summary: You meet your neighbor and you're pretty sure he's American. But why is it that the next times you see eachother he speaks in a British accent. As you keep meeting you start falling for Steven. And then he disappears for a while and he's back and he tells you about Marc. But he also tells you about Layla. You really like Steven but now he's kinda married? What now?

Trigger warnings for the series: mental health problems, angst with a happy ending, fluff, slowburn. (A/N: i may add more warnings as the fic procedes).

A/N: In this chapter we see a little bit more of readers...problems. the moon knight system is not the only one with mental health problems/trauma. If anyone has any questions about the story my askbox is always open! Thanks for reading and also i DON'T do taglists. Sorry about that!

Chapter 3

Was it normal for a pair of people to become friends so fast? You kept asking yourself that. Was it weird that you were neighbors? You tried to shake the feeling that being friends with your neighbor was weird. Dr Williams told you it was fine, that friendships start at the oddest of places. That had made you sigh and stop your overthinking most of the time, sometimes it started up again but her words came to the front of your mind like a lullaby and you nodded like she was there saying them to you in real time.

As much as Steven had wormed himself into your life in the past few weeks, you could also feel him distancing himself, unwillingly it seemed. Almost not even noticeable by him.

He was missing more and more friend dates and sometimes you could cover for him, as in, lying to him, but other times you couldn't.

And you had to witness Steven's face falling, turning sad, distressed, sour. You tried to cheer him up sometimes but most of the time you couldn't. You will talk and his mind will be elsewhere. And you knew by the distanced stare he had, away from you, sometimes behind you, or other times at your eyes but he wasn't there, he was somewhere else and it was a little weird. You had to snap your fingers to get his attention. He would smile awkwardly and you would bite your lip and before he could say he was sorry for zoning out you would go back to your story.

Maybe his bad sleeping habits were getting to him.

You loved talking to Steven. You seemed to have lots of stories throughout your life and Steven just seemed to have facts about random things. He was very smart but he didn't seem like he had lived a lot. Which was weird because he was older than you. But you didn't question it.

The rare times he talked about his life he would talk about his mum, how good she was, making him his favorite foods and helping him colour drawings. Those seemed to be stories mostly from his childhood, though. It wasn't much detail but you treasure it with your heart.

The last thing he told you about her was that she seemed to be traveling, she sent him postcards here and there, telling him about her travels and how much she loved him.

The things about friendships was that at some point you started doing domestic stuff.

When Steven didn't work on Saturdays he would wake you up, completely cheerful and tell you it was cleaning time.

And one thing about depression was that sometimes you couldn't make yourself do stuff. Anything.

You were better yes, in a better mental state than years ago but even now sometimes you just couldn't make yourself clean your apartment.

"At least make me breakfast first." You had said the first time. With a tiny smirk as you hid behind the bedsheets, you had taken the sheets off of you and when you got out of the bed and looked down you had let out a tiny scream.

"I didn't look i swear" Steven said and after taking the pants you left in the floor the night before and putting them on, you burst out laughing and Steven looked between his fingers and slowly chuckled.

You did notice he was red all over his face and your heart soared.

The both of you have also began to go grocery shopping and the both of you have learnt a few things here and there about vegan baking. You have never done that before but it's nothing out of this world, most of the time it tastes very similar to "normal" baking.

Steven has cooked for you a lot, and you're excited to try new things and he is glad when you give him a thumbs up, signaling that you liked it. He always has a separate dish just in case you don't like what he makes you since you're not vegan yourself.

But all of these nice moments are a reminder that Steven did try to kiss you. Right? He hasn't made a move on you again and you can't stop thinking about it. It's there in the back of your mind like an itch you can't scratch.

He didn't seem like himself after it. Like it was a totally different person. How could that be?

Just last week you had gone to visit Steven and you had let yourself in, since a month ago he had told you you can make yourself at home anytime, you had brought popcorn to make in his microwave and a movie to watch in his DVD player.

It was almost nighttime and you had enter talking loudly and when you notice some ruffling, he woke up with a gasp from his bed and you just stared at him with your mouth wide open.

Steven needed like a second to know where he was and when he noticed you were in his apartment with a bag of popcorn looking at him. No. You were looking at his ankle restraint. Your eyes going between that and the sand.

He stared at you in what looked like panic and you closed your mouth, left the popcorn and movie in his desk and went over to his bed. You sat down and looked at him intently.

"Steven, are you sure you're okay? What's with the uh--" you looked at his ankle restraint, then to him. "Sand"

You looked genuinely curious and not judgemental and he gulped.

"I still feel-- I feel like, like I'm falling apart. Like my life is not my own anymore. I don't remember a lot of what's going on and I'm sure you're lying to me about some missed dates." He watches as you flinch at his words. "I'm sorry I'm sorry. I know if you're lying to me you must be doing it for my own good but I'm not sure that's good either. And i want to be okay but I'm not--I'm not sure what to do at this point" His hands go to the sides of his head and he pulls on his curls and you shush him, he sobs and you grab both of his hands softly letting go of his curls. he lets out a few sobs here and there and you wrap your hands around his.

"I'm not sure what to say, but I'm guessing it's become worse? Your sleeping habits?" You tilt your head a little and he looks at you with tears in his eyes.

"Yeah" he looks at your hands and starts to move his fingers against yours, caressing them. "I think i started sleep walking..." He whispers.

"What if you slept with me tonight? Or are you not sleepy anymore. Sorry I woke you up by the way." You make a face and he chuckles, he brushes his tears away.

"It's okay. I think... I think a distraction will be good. What movie did you bring?" He gives you the tiniest of smiles and your heart hurts so much for him.

You don't want to bring seeing up a therapist, you know not everyone likes hearing those words said to them. And you don't know how he will react if they come out of your mouth.

You don't know what to do. You're on a tough spot but at least the best you can do right now is be a good friend. A good neighbor.

So you excitedly get out of his bed and grab the movie, showing it to him. "Ta-da. It's the most best horrible disaster movie ever. 2012. Critics hated it and people got anxiety attacks from it. But don't worry it's mostly because it's about the supposed end of the world predicted by the Mayans. And that didn't happen so it seems silly now. But if you don't wanna watch it it's okay maybe we can watch something else--"

"I wanna see it. It's one of your favorites right?" He looks at you so tenderly it makes you want to take a picture.

His curls are on his forehead and there's still a bit of red in his eyes. There's a bit of hair on his chin and jaw that you know he will want to shave later. You wished, oh so desired, he would leave his beard grow. You bet he looked really... nice. Just imagining him with a mustache is making your toes curl and your breathing go faster than normal.

The question comes back to the front of your mind: does he like you? Yes or no?

"I guess that's what has happened lately in my life" you clap your hands on your legs, you feel the fabric of your jeans and pick on it. You're not looking Dr. Williams in the eyes. You know what she's about to ask you.

Dr. Williams hums and leans back on her chair, she looks intently at you, you can feel her stare on you but you're looking at the plushie on your side of the sofa you're sitting on. A monkey with a little blue jacket.

"By the way you're avoiding my gaze, I'm guessing you know what I'm about to ask you." You finally look at her and she's smiling, not in a bad intent way or anything. She's just, smiling.

You sigh and look at your fingers, your chipped nail polish being a distraction for a second before you look at her.

"I don't like him. I don't. I swear." You say.

"Like that?"

"Yeah like that. He's my friend. Nothing more. I was just curious to if he was going to kiss me or not" you keep avoiding her eyes and she lets out a chuckle.

From the corner of your eye, you see her adjust her glasses.

"And if he kissed you, would you have kissed him back?" That question makes you flinch.

You had been open to friendship, with anyone. You liked making friends. You didn't have much of those here after moving to London a few years ago. And making friends in your twenties is hard no matter what anyone says. But you weren't too...keen on liking someone again. Not after so so so many years of not liking anyone. Not after so much sadness that was brought to you by your sad teenage years.

You didn't think you were ready to face this part yet. You didn't want another....unrequited love added to the long list of unrequited loves that trailed behind you like a tail.

"No-- Maybe? NO. Absolutely not. No. No" You furrow your eyebrows in thought and Dr. Williams hums again.

"I sense some hesitancy in you. Do you want my opinion?"

You stay silent, looking at her shoes, black loafers that shine under the white light of her office. "On if I like him?" You mumble.

"Yes."

"I don't think so." You decide. But even if she doesn't say it you know what she would've told you. You could hear it in her voice in your head and everything. 'In my opinion, i think you do like him. And that's nothing to be ashamed for. He seems like a nice fellow. He may even like you--' LIES. You did NOT like him. And he did not like you. End of story.

"Well. Maybe you should reevaluate your feelings for him." Dr. Williams says and you groan, glaring at her and she chuckles. "Just saying. I'm your doctor after all. I'm supposed to give you tips on how to deal with stuff but if you won't admit some things then we can't move forward."

She gets up and leaves her file about you on the desk next to her. She fixes her clothes and turns to look at you. You're looking at her with an unreadable look on your face. Eyes distant. She sighs and sits down next to you, she moves the monkey plushie and she's about to put it away but decides against it. She grabs your hands and places the monkey and instantly you hold tightly to it.

"Liking someone is not the end of the world. And who knows, maybe he will end up liking you. And if it doesn't work out we can work through it. Me and you, together." She lays a hand on your arm and you look up at her with tears in your eyes that you're trying really hard to not let fall.

"I just don't want to go back to being so... blue, that i can't think, i can't take care of myself, i don't want to be... Depressed." A tear falls from your eye and Dr. Williams hugs you tightly.

It's not the first time she has hugged you but it feels as equally as comforting as it does everytime she does. Which is rarely.

You sigh and silently pray it's going to be okay. That you're going to be fine. And if not that Dr. Williams will help you if needed.

Sighing, you stare at your door for a moment, deep in thought. Lots of things are going through your mind. Lots of what if's. Good and bad if's. You shake your head trying to get rid of it. You don't want to think, you don't want to do anything but you need a distraction.

Taking the keys out of your pocket, you turn the lock and step in.

Just as you step in you feel something crumble under your shoe. You look down and move your foot, to see a paper on the wooden floors. You pick it up.

I will be gone for a few. Don't wait up for me. I'll come back.

- Steven

You furrow your eyebrows. Few? Few days? Weeks? Months? What the fuck?

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight system x reader #moon knight #marvel #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfic #my fic #into the blue/out of the blue story #mcu fanfic

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eeunoia · 6 months

Text

ENHYPEN Series

sinag — psh.

prelude

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

pairings: park sunghoon x oc

word count: 2k

warnings: a contains violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: leave some messages on my ask! thank you so much for reading.

here ‹ teaser | chapter one › here

You screamed as you sat yourself up from your bed awoken from sleep by a terrible nightmare. Shaking a bit, hair messy and drenched with cold sweat, your eyes wanders around the dimly lit room anxiously. One of your hands slowly trailed towards your chest and clasped your frantically pounding heart. Being acutely aware of what happened in the dream made you so upset.

Tears formed at the corner of your eyes, unable to even think properly. These are just one of those days when you dream or more like relive what happened to you that horrifying night. Memories you wish to entomed at the back of your mind and eventually forget about it. If you can only get rid of it like magic, you would trade anything. You stood up and head towards your bathroom, bowing to your fate to go on your day like nothing’s wrong.

After taking a shower and dressed up to fully freshen yourself up before going to the office, you stopped by your kitchen for a coffee. While waiting for the beans to be ready, your mind went blank and to feel frazzled without even starting your day is unbelievable for you. The nightmare sure worked and sucked all of your energy for today.

The ride on the way to the company you work at was surprisingly short, probably because you are still out of it. When you arrived at your floor, Laurie, one of your team members, looked in distress. She was leaning over her table, hands resting over her head while staring blankly at nowhere. At the sight of you, a hint of irritation flashes through her face.

“Finally!” she exclaimed, jumping off from her seat then start dragging you towards the pantry of the office. Taking advantage of the early time and having the whole room for yourselves.

“What happened? You don’t look okay.” it was funny coming from you when you aren’t too.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, “What happened last night on your date?” her way of saying it was like an interogation. The bitterness through her tone was clear. Your brows folds and draws together, causing a crease to your forehead. It was hard for you to put the puzzle together right away.

“Huh? Last night?” your words stall at the attempt of remembering of what you did the past night.

Your brows arched after a couple of seconds, “Ah! You mean with Mr. Kang? It’s not a date, Laurie. Its a work dinner.”

The unpleasant look on her face shows off her frustrations about something. “Well something obviously happened and you did something that upsets Mr. Kang! Maybe he thought it was a date! Did he confess? Did you reject him?” she sounded worked up, trying to make you throw up answers she’s been deprived off. It was too many for you to even process it one by one.

“He invited me to go on a trip outside of the country and I declined it saying I have a boyfriend—”

“He did what?!” her eyes were big and even held both of your arms, shaking you a little. You blinked a couple of times, confused and started to feel uneasy of her behavior. You two aren’t the closest friends and she’s very vocal of her totally not liking you. She often tries to make malicious comments about how Mr. Kang has always too kind with you, envying.

“He likes you, Ae!” she says. “And now that you rejected him, he’s punishing all of us. Thank you very much!” the sarcasm was too much that it hurts your ears.

You are still confused, but you shift your weight on your other leg before trying to catch on what’s happening. She lets go of you and leaned over the counter before staring blankly at the wall like a new found habit. She looks like she’s about to go crazy any minute now.

“Why? What did he do?” the eagerment now passed on you, worried of what he possibly did that upsets Laurie this much.

She glanced at your direction, eyes shooting glares, “He wants us to start again with our campaign advertisement.”

Now that made you utterly shock. You refuse to believe what you heard from her. Closing your distance with her, you stepped once and gently grabs her arm to make her look at you.

“He can’t do that! He just approved it yesterday.”

She pursed her lips and shoved your hold off. ”He just did, Ae. He calls me a while ago and he looked so pissed.” she then lets out a strained sigh. Even without saying it straightly, you are being blamed. She’s blaming you.

“I can’t believe you flirts with him and then rejects him! Now all of us have to suffer because of you!” the veins over her neck pops out in frustration.

“I neve did that, Laurie.” you tried telling her, but she just rolls her eyes as she cross her arms.

“Whatever! Everyone here knew you’re suspicious.” she mumbles the last line. You heard it, tho and you aren’t surprised.

Your shoulder fell too as you leaned over the counter beside her. Eyes shut for a while you throw your head back and silently wished all of this are not happening. The exhaustion you were feeling before going here just got worst. This day isn’t going well for you already.

“There you are,” the two of you snaps your head at one of your workmate when she talked.

“Mr. Kang is looking for you, Ms. Lee.”

You stood up straight as you glanced at Laurie for a while. She showed an unpleasant expression before rolling her eyes in defeat. You told the girl that you will go in a bit and so she left. Laurie turns and face you.

“Go and try to change his mind! Do something, Aelia! Fix the mess you created!” her requests came out arrogantly and gave a short nod.

You feel bad that she’s making up stuff and that she’s blaming you, but you admit you felt bad for the whole team. Maybe you are at fault at some way and so you should really do something about it. You can’t just let it all put into waste.

Determined to stood your ground, you walks towards the office of your boss. His secretary’s restless expression on her face indicates that he’s probably in a foul mood. It somehow made you feel anxious.

“He’s waiting for you.” she stood up and opted to open the door for you, “He’s in a very bad mood, Ae.” she whispers under her breath as a warning that made your knees almost wobble on your way inside.

He was at his swivel chair, a folder on his hand, forehead creased while reading whatever document it is. He didn’t spare you a glance at all. Its starting to make you wonder if the guy from last night’s dinner and him are the same person. Thinking that you made someone upset pinches something in you. You hate that feeling at all.

“Good morning, Mr. Kang.” you tried to sound enthusiastic to somehow lift the mood, but to your dismay he was unresponsive.

“I want you to prepare your passport.” he stated that made you blink twice. His words didn’t sink in, totally not processing for you. Did he mention passport? Your passport?

“Sir?” you calls, baffled on the spot.

He finally lifts his gaze and eyes you with a placid look on his face. “Are you deaf? I said prepare your passport. I will send you in another country for a business meeting and a seminar.”

You have no idea if he’s just talking too fast or his words are just nonsense that’s why you cannot understand any of it. Pretty sure it was the latter as you can’t help but to start feeling irritated. He can be upset about last night, yes. But this is terribly unrighteous.

“I’m sorry Sir, but I can’t—”

“You can’t?” he cuts you off then lets out a scoff, “Are you saying I promoted the wrong person to be the team leader?” his tone taunting, sounding more like a challenge.

“N-No, Sir. It’s just I can’t go on a seminar and leave my team with all the works due.” your reason definitely makes a point, but your boss sure is determined on making you suffer.

“I don’t care. This is an order from your boss. Are you seriously reasoning out to me? I didn’t know you are this arrogant.”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to say anything that can upset him even more. He closed the folder he was holding and tilts his head to the side.

“Its either you go to that seminar or you put your resignation letter on my table tomorrow morning.”

Your shoulder fell at what you heard. He held you at gun point. You worked hard to earn the position you have right now, you did everything you could to be here and so you surely didn’t want lose this. If you think about it, there’s a lot of benefits if you go to this seminar. You’ll learn from it and it will be good to your work records, all in all you’ll gain from it. It’s just that after what happened from your last trip which is years passed already, you developed fear of going on out of the country trips. The mental trauma it caused you left a deep scar that just by thinking of being in a place you barely know cause you panic attacks. It was terrible.

Laurie was hopeful when you walked inside your office. She peeks through the cubicle like a meer cat and gaze at you with full curiosity.

“What? What did he said?” she asked.

You sighed heavily and crashed yourself over your swivel chair. The frustration, annoyance and stress slowly spoiling your mood you couldn’t even make yourself into saying it to her. Some of your team members were there as well, looking and waiting for an update. They already assumed that it didn’t go well based on how you’re looking right now.

“He tasked me to attend a business meeting and seminar outside of the country.” you mumbles that made Laurie even more confused.

“What? Why is he sending you there on a trip while we suffer here to revise everything?” she exclaimed, she’s so upset yet again.

The glares on her eyes didn’t slipped off of you. Its not surprising anymore. It often happen whenever the boss favors you, she always thinks that you are charming your way to success and that you’re being unfair. That was totally untrue. You know to yourself how much you worked hard for this. Some people just couldn’t keep their thoughts to themselves, judging you wrongly out of envy.

“It’s not a trip, Laurie. Its for business.” you tried to tell her, but she rolls her eyes and arrogantly sat back down.

“Whatever! This is all your fault in the first place! You’re making us re-do all of it while you go on a trip!” she started blabbering that made some of your workmates to stare.

You wanted to tell her that she’s wrong and that it would be more traumatic for you, but you refrained yourself. Instead, you stood up and went out to go to the bathroom. Thankfully, nobody was there so you can breath and calm down. Your mind are on a mess as of the moment. There’s just so much going on. You wanted to let it all out and to tell someone about it.

“Mom,” you calls out after she picks up the call.

“What is it? I’m playing poker with my friends! Why are you calling, Ae?!” obviously, she wasn’t interested. When did she ever took interest about your life or to you in general? Despite of it, you tried to still open up to her.

“D-Do you think I should quit my job? I’m really having a hard time.” your voice cracked while saying it and just by hearing you, a normal person will feel sympathy. It was clear as a water that you are having a hard time.

“What do you mean quit your work?! Are you crazy?! How will we pay our debts after sending you to college? What about our rent, our food? You are so selfish! You only think of yourself!” she was outrageous.

You felt your heart ache at her words. Not only that your Mom didn’t listen to your words, but she only thinks of herself. You are thankful for them for sending you to college despite pursuing the degree you don’t really like. But after graduating and working, your parents started depending on you like you’re their bank or something. They stopped working and just left everything under your care.

“I’m s-sorry, Mom.”

You have a lot of things you wanted to tell your Mother. None of it came out from your mouth. As always, you kept it to yourself. This is one of the things you hate. Your best friend always tells you that sometimes, you’re being too selfless. That you’re such a people pleaser.

A tear left your eye as you try to get your shit together.

“Stop being ungrateful and be a good daughter to your parents! Don’t give me headaches!” and with that she ended the call.

Your parents are not very fond of you. Ever since you were a child, you are by yourself. You learned things alone. Before, you tried to convince yourself that its because your parents are busy working to support your needs. Later on, it slowly dawned in you that maybe they don’t really love you. They just did what they need to do in order for them to have someone they can depend on. And they did. They raised someone with a soft heart, someone who values family so much that she will turn blind-eye to everything they do.

It was tiring, but you have no other choice. They are your family and even if they’re cold, they are all you have. Sometimes, you just wished you will find someone who will love you the way you love them.

“Park Sunghoon.” the young man lifts his eyes from the papers he was reading over to the old man who entered his office. The frown on his face tells Sunghoon that he’s clearly upset.

“You have no business in being here, Mr. Kwon.” he tried to sound casual.

“I will not tolerate this behavior anymore! My daughter doesn’t deserve this humiliation!”

Sunghoon sighs and settles the folder down to his table. “You’re the one who kept on putting her in that place. I already told you, I will never marry her.” his strict blank eyes watches him carefully, unfazed.

“You are a disgrace to your family! What kind of man will turn back to a promise? And you are calling yourself a leader?!”

Sunghoon tilts his head over to the side, “As far as I remember I never promised anything. It was my father who proposed about that engagement. I had nothing to do with it.”

“You are to follow your Father’s order! And that is to marry Luna!”

He scoffed, an unamused grin crept over his face. “I am not under him, Mr. Kwon. I don’t bow to him and follow his orders.”

Sunghoon stood up, his aura intimidating the older one. “I created my name on my own, without any help from him. Do you think I will let him control me? Nobody will ever make me follow their orders.”

“And yet you are a slave to your own emotions.” Mr. Kwon stated.

Sunghoon didn’t speak.

“This obsession you have with this girl,” he starts. “soon it will be all a waste of time. Once you realized it was just one of your rebellious stunts to prove something, you will know that marrying Luna is your best option to widen your influence and power.”

“I will do everything so you end up with my daughter.”

Sunghoon clenched his jaw and silently stared at the old mafia boss' eyes. Slowly, he grins.

“There’s only one girl that I will marry.” he says in calm yet cold tone. “And I’ll do everything as well to have her.”

here ‹ teaser | chapter one › here

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goodstuffexe · 6 months

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Guys Secret Life is just Life Series insanity mode I love it so much damn

Like the twirls and mingles and how ppl are forming ally ships just for one session because of their tasks DAMN makes SO GOOD ENTERTAINMENT so fun omg I cannot put it in words

And the fucking BEST PART is that I watch like 3 episodes a week and I have SO MUCH STUFF FOR THE COMING WEEKS AND MONTHS TO CHEW ON!!! Like whaat the heck I still don't know what's the deal with BigB most of the times I've seen him interact with ppl and and and I have to watch the 3 dudes who died now cause they died but then I probably miss the whole thing that happend with the heart foundation this session or what happend to Cleo if she did manage to find out what task she has and what the reds where up to the last 2 sessions omg and and SO MUCH STUFF SO MUCH INTERACTION AND REN WAS THERE omgg I DON'T HAVE A CLUE WHAT ANYONE'S TASKS WHERE AND I WANNA KNOW ALL OF THEM BUT I CAN ONLY WATCH SO MANY PPL HUH

Holy hell they rly thought 'Hey guys how do we make this thing even better maybe Limited Life was falling a bit too short in some ways' and THEY DELIVERED SO HARD with Secret Life omg and cracked it up to 200 it is SO amusing to watch, I cannot stop myself from writing in caps, I can't stop laughing at those doofuses playing Minecraft, it's so entertaining I love everyone involved in this series and I love them more the more episodes I watch it is incredible and it makes me so happy :')

THANK YOU GRIAN MY BELOVED FOR BEING A CREATIVE MIND AND BRINGING PEOPLE TOGETHER SORRY FOR SO MUCH CAPS I CAN'T HOLD IT IN

I actually wanna draw fanart so bad but I have literally no clue how to draw anything homeboys and girls making me want to be an artist so bad

#can't praise it enough I was not ONCE bored this season yet and it just keeps on giving #I am being so serious haha the way they make me laugh in every possible way is just insane to me #best season yet change my fucking mind #like I AM A SUCKER FOR THE DESERT DUO but the way this season is just so different is SO creative and engaging #i just love them so much #secret life smp #secret life #life series #grian

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 years

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Exclusively Yours

(x)

Summary: Y/N gets a visit from the green-eyed monster when she sees someone coming on to her green-eyed boyfriend.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Unprotected sex, PinV. Fingering, Oral (f receiving) slight possibility of public sex. Overstimulation. Thigh riding. Angry!Jensen. Slightly insecure!reader. Fluffy!sweet!Jensen. Hints of Dom!Jensen

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Y/N

Word Count: 3K+

A/N: So, I’ve decided to do all 30 of these writing prompts. I may miss a day here and there, but I’m going to try to do one a day, and I will be completing all 30 no matter what. They won’t always be in order. This fic will be for the prompt: Write about a concert.

I will be putting together a Masterlist for all 30 prompts and adding it to my main Masterlist.

A/N 2: For someone who hadn't written a RPF in my life, all this hot af Jensen content lately is sure smashing down that wall. Cause this is now the 4th entry in this little Jensen x Reader saga. The first three are:

1- The Art of Creating Sex Hair Sexy Hair

2 - Who's Blushing Now?

3 - Like Waves in the Ocean

You don’t have to have read any of the other parts, to read this one, but it might be more enjoyable. Plus who doesn’t love more Jensen smut! 🤤

This will be my final entry in this little Jensen Reader saga. I expect to continue writing Jensen RPF now that I've enjoyed it so much. But this one shot is the last in this little series of Jensen x Reader one shots. 😊

As always, of course this story is about a Jensen from a different part of the multiverse, who is single. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @firefly-graphics

(x)

Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel

Like I've been tied to the whippin' post

Tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post

Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'

As Jensen growled out the last line of the chorus, in his deep, gravelly, whine, you felt a shudder run through you.

Jesus Christ he was hot on that stage!

You looked out at all the screaming fans watching him on stage, some of them seeming as though they might pass out at any minute, and you thought to yourself:

Yeah, same folks, same.

There was something absolutely magnetic about Jensen when he was on stage singing. Even offstage, of course, he always had this ability to draw people in and make them punch drunk while they stared at him. But it was like it was amplified when he was on stage; amplified mic, amplified guitars, amplified Jensen charisma.

His voice was gorgeous, which certainly helped. It had such an incredible range going from soft folk ballads, to country, to rock, to this badass blues, southern rock classic that had all the panties dropping as he sang about being tied to a whipping post.

I mean, come on! you thought to yourself, there's only so much hot as fuck imagery a person can take before we're just a pool of hormones!

As Whipping Post ended, all of the cast came out on stage to sing the final song of the night with Rob and the rest of the band. Everyone was having a blast on stage and the audience was absolutely thrilled to see it. You were thrilled to see it.

This evening had been so much fun! The con was taking place in New Jersey that weekend, and you'd been on a job in New York. So Jensen had invited you to come to the Saturday night concert since it was going to be your only chance to see each other for another week and a half. Naturally you'd jumped at the chance.

You hated that you often had to go such long stretches away from each other. You knew it was just the reality of your lives, both of you travelling so much for work. But it didn't make it any easier to be away from him for so long, sometimes weeks at a time. You missed him from the moment you separated until you were back in his arms.

And lately... lately you'd started to worry. The week before he'd had to cancel a couple Skype calls with you, work stuff he said, and you wanted to believe him. You did believe him.

But your insecurities did not, they kept screaming at you that he was getting bored. That going so long, sometimes weeks at a time, without sex was too much to ask of someone like Jensen. He could literally have women at his beck and call, and you expected him to wait around for your unremarkable ass?

It just seemed hard to fathom, and those insecurities bred fear, fear that one day soon he was going to tell you it just wasn't worth it and he was going to say goodbye. Your fear told you regularly that you should get ready for him to end things.

You did your best to shove those thoughts to the side. Unfortunately, sometimes that was easier said than done.

Finally the song ended and everyone screamed and cheered and the cast waved their goodbyes and shouted their thanks. You saw Jensen leave with the pack through the back of the curtain and waited for him to come find you in the wings.

Minutes later he came strolling around the corner, his smile wide as he spotted you. You clapped enthusiastically for him.

"Jensen, that was absolutely amazing!" You praised.

His smile turned shy and you marveled at the many facets of this man you loved.

"Yeah, the band was awesome." He said humbly and you shook your head, looping your arms around his neck. You ran your fingers through the sweat-dampened hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his lips towards you.

"Yes, the band was great, but I was talking about you, Mr. Ackles." You brushed your lips across his. "You...were...wonderful." You punctuated each word with a kiss, teasing him.

"Mmm..." he moaned as you pulled back. "I gotta go change before we head out." His eyes grew dark. "Wanna come join me?"

You knew he was thinking of the last time the two of you were in a change room together, the very first time you'd hooked up, after you'd done his hair for that EW photoshoot. Jensen had promised that if you came to meet him in his change room he'd make sure you didn't regret it.

And you certainly hadn't.

Now, as though he couldn't help himself, he gripped your head in his two hands and licked your lips open, plunging his tongue inside. As it always did, his kiss made you lose any sense of your surroundings and you fisted your hands in his hair and held him tight to your mouth. You couldn't catch your breath, but you didn't care.

His hands roamed down your back to cup your ass cheeks and press you against the hard on you could feel forming under his jeans.

"Oops, hey sorry!"

Jensen pulled away from your mouth with a sucking noise that sounded obscene. Clearing his throat and licking lips he looked towards the voice that had interrupted.

It was Rob and he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry to interrupt, I was just wondering if you guys were coming. We're headed over to Stadler's Pub for drinks."

Jensen looked down at you and you nodded, blushing. He turned back to Rob. "Yeah, man. We'll be there in about a half hour."

Rob gave a thumbs up and took off, still grinning.

Jensen sighed deeply. "I guess I should actually go change for real." He looked regretfully at your lips before pecking them briefly and then giving your ass a pat.

"I'll be back in about ten minutes."

You nodded and he sauntered away, moving quickly on his long bow-legs.

Twenty minutes later you began to wonder where he was and then finally decided to go hurry him up, vowing not to get distracted from the task at hand, even if he was only half dressed.

As you wandered through the slightly labyrinthine maze of thick black curtains and alcoves backstage, you could suddenly hear Jensen's deep, rich voice and you followed the sound.

You couldn't make out his words, but as you walked around another corner, you stopped abruptly as you heard a fairly high-pitched giggle.

You crept up a little closer, realizing the voices were coming from just the other side of the curtain in front of you.

"Anyway, I'm sorry I've just rambled on and on, but I just had to tell you how incredible you were tonight." The female voice complimented him.

"Well, thanks very much. Glad you enjoyed yourself." Jensen replied.

You peeked around the side of the curtain to see them standing not far from you; they were facing each other and as you watched, the woman took a step closer to him.

Jensen didn't step away.

He'd clearly already been to his dressing room and back; he must have showered quickly because his hair was still wet. He wore a new pair of black jeans and a thin, soft, cream-colored sweater. He looked absolutely gorgeous, and the woman standing so close to him obviously agreed because she smiled and batted her eyelashes up at him.

You felt the sharp bitter tang of jealousy as the woman giggled again.

"I swear, you should have seen how many women you had swooning over you out in that audience!"

Jensen ducked his head and smiled slightly. "It was a good show, everyone brought their A game."

You told yourself to calm down, that it was just a fan gushing over him, as they tended to, and with good reason. Jensen was just being gracious, it meant nothing. But your brain was short-circuiting a little and you blamed that fact for what followed.

The woman got incredibly close and put her hand on Jensen's arm and you felt like the blood vessels might be popping in your head. When she spoke, it just got worse.

"So, I don't know what you've got planned, but my hotel is really nearby, The Marriott just down the street? I'm in Room 1103 if you feel like dropping by."

"Oh, uh..."

You popped out from behind the curtain like an angry magician's assistant, and stormed forward.

"He already has plans, thanks." You reached Jensen's side and latched onto his arm.

Jensen looked a little surprised, but you were too busy shooting daggers at the woman in front of you to pay much attention.

"Y/N, hey!" He pointed toward the other woman. "Y/N this is Heather. Heather, this is my girlfriend, Y/N."

He put an emphasis on the word girlfriend and Heather immediately backed up a few steps.

"Oh wow! Hi." She said looking at you. "I...sorry, I didn't know." She said, and with one more long, wistful, lustful look at Jensen, she sighed.

"Okay, so have a good night." She said and turned away.

Jensen gave a small wave. "Take care." He called to her and then shook his head.

You struggled to make your voice sound normal. "What the hell was that?"

Jensen glanced at you and then away, his smile slightly embarrassed. "Uh...that was me getting hit on."

"Hit on?" You questioned aggressively, "You mean, propositioned!"

Jensen shrugged, not arguing the point. For some reason his nonchalance made you angrier.

"So, what were you going to say?"

That caught his attention and he turned to look at you properly. "What?"

"If I hadn't popped up to shut things down what would you have said to her?"

Jensen's smile disappeared completely and he frowned at you.

"Are you...serious?"

You shrugged still trying to pretend indifference. "Hey, look I'm just curious. I mean stuff like this must happen all the time to you, and I'm certainly not always around to jump out and stop it, so what do you say?"

Jensen stared at you hard for a minute before he spoke. "I say, I'm flattered, thanks, but I have a girlfriend."

"Oh, you're flattered?"

Jensen threw his hands up. "Well Jesus, Y/N, what do you want me to say? Go fuck yourself?"

He shook his head. "What is this all about? Where is this coming from?"

You shrugged. "It's not coming from anywhere. I told you, I was just curious. Cause...I mean...you know, we never really said we were exclusive, so if you wanted to -"

Jensen cut you off. "I'm sorry, what? We're not exclusive? Really?"

He glared at you for a minute and your mind was screaming at you to apologize and just tell him you were being an idiot. But the scared, jealous beast in your chest wouldn't shut up.

"I mean, not officially."

Jensen's jaw was clenched as his eyes bore into you. "So, saying 'I love you' to each other? That wasn't being exclusive?" Before you could answer that question, he was angrily asking another.

"What are you saying here, Y/N? Is this...are you trying to tell me you wanna fuck other guys?"

You scowled at him. "No." Your tone said that he was being ridiculous. "Look, let's just drop it, okay? Let's just go meet everyone at the bar."

Jensen stared at you for a full thirty seconds without speaking; his bright green eyes were like chips of ice. Finally, he responded.

"I'm not really in the mood to celebrate now. I'm gonna go back to the hotel. Are you coming?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but his clenched jaw and hard expression made you decide to just keep keep quiet.

"Fine." You said with a shrug.

Jensen texted Rob to say you weren't coming and then ordered an Uber. You realized that based on what he'd seen earlier, Rob probably thought you guys were cancelling for a much more enjoyable reason. But the ride back to the hotel was silent and charged with unspoken emotions.

When you got back to the suite Jensen was staying in, he tossed his key card on the table beside the door and immediately left for the bedroom.

His continued silence was beginning to wear on your patience, and it was making you start to panic internally.

Fuck, this is it! This is the moment he realizes I'm not worth all of this.

You slowly followed him into the bedroom and stood in the doorway. He was sitting on the side of the bed staring out the floor to ceiling doors that led to a private balcony off the massive King suite.

"So are you just gonna keep giving me the silent treatment, because I dared to question you about the groupies that flock around you?"

Jensen looked over at you angrily, before he stared down at the floor for a minute and then stood up, kicking off his shoes and grabbing his sweater and pulling it over his head. He tossed it over the chair that sat in the corner and turned away from you.

Your stomach muscles clenched as they always did when you were faced with his gorgeous, tanned, torso. His back was always so exceptionally beautiful. So watching it ripple, the muscles moving fluidly under his lightly freckled skin, was putting you in the awkward position of being angry and horny at the same time.

"Jensen, I asked you a question, for fucks sake!" You shouted at him and he continued to ignore you, just taking off his watch and the couple bracelets he was wearing and tossing them onto the night stand.

Frustrated in more ways than one, you stomped over to him and tried to turn him to face you, without much success.

Finally he spun around and towered over you. "Jesus Christ, Y/N, I don't want to fucking talk about this, I thought I was making that clear."

"Yeah, you mean you don't want to talk about it because you're AFRAID to talk about it!" You shouted up at him. "You don't wanna slip up and tell me something that you meant to keep to yourself."

His scowl was horribly intimidating when it was fixed so intensely on you. His voice was hard and raised again as he responded.

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Y/N? Huh? Just what, EXACTLY, are you accusing me of?"

"I'm not accusing you, Jesus!" You yelled. "All I'm saying is that I wouldn't be surprised if...if sometimes you were...you know, tempted...to sleep with one of the scores of women that throw themselves at you."

He was incredulous as he stared down at you. "Do you even fucking know me? I mean who the fuck do you think I am?"

"I know exactly who you are!" You screamed in frustration and fear. "You're Jensen Ackles, hottest man on the planet, the guy who makes all the panties wet -"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"- the guy who has literally any woman he wants just waiting to come running at the crook of his finger, all of them more than willing to fuck you in a heartbeat."

You were breathing roughly and fighting back tears as all your insecurities and fears were bubbling up as you continued volume still high.

"Seriously, you have every woman in the world throwing themselves at you, and I'm gone half the time. It must be hard to just...abstain. I mean, it's not exactly most guys' forte - turning down hot, available women."

You knew you were pushing him, pissing him off completely. But there was a small, nasty voice in the back of your head saying it was better to lose him now than later.

He stalked towards you and you backed up so he wouldn't bowl you over. "Is that really what you think? Seriously? That I can't keep it my fucking pants, I'm too much of a fucking horndog to go a couple weeks without sex?"

He stepped closer to you and his voice dipped lower, though it was still firm and loud.

"Nevermind that I'm skyping you three or four times a week, so I can jack off watching you fuck yourself and listening to you moan and come. That's not enough for me to stay faithful, I guess!" He threw his hands up in frustration. "Gotta get that pussy 24/7 or I'm not happy!"

You chewed on your lip and your voice was small and worried when you spoke again.

"But you cancelled last week. And you wouldn't necessarily be being unfaithful. Like I said, we never really confirmed we were exclusive."

Jensen closed his eyes and you saw the muscle jump in his jaw. When he opened them again, they were still angry, but a different kind of heat was pulsing there too.

"Is this what all this shit has been about? I told you, they switched our filming schedule because a location had to change; and that fucked up my entire week."

You nodded, acknowledging that you'd heard him the first time he told you.

He shook his head. "And as for exclusivity?" He pushed you backwards until you banged up against the glass balcony doors.

He grabbed your face in his big hand, wrapping it under your chin and around your jaw. "You are exclusively mine."

Before you could react he ripped open your grey button down, making you gasp loudly as he palmed your breasts through your mostly see-through bra.

"Mine." He growled as he captured your silk clad nipple in his mouth.

"Jensen...I...I think, I...think we should..."

You broke off with a whine as he shoved a hand up your skirt to rub along the crotch of your drenched panties.

"No." He said, in a voice that demanded obedience. "No more thinking from you. I'm gonna fuck the overthinking right outta your god damn body."

He pulled your ruined panties down your body, leaving them to pool around your ankles. "And I'm gonna make sure you know beyond a doubt that this fucking body," he shoved two fingers into you and you cried out and clenched around them, "this pussy is the only one I'm interested in."

He pulled his fingers out of you and took off your skirt. Then he removed your bra so that you were completely naked, pressed up against the cool, clear balcony doors.

It occurred to you that maybe you should move away from the glass doors. The suite was on the 25th floor, but they had drones now that could -

But then, true to his word, Jensen pulled the worrisome thoughts right out of your head by dropping to his knees and swirling his tongue in your belly button.

Your hands slid into his hair for balance, as he grabbed the back of your thigh and tossed your left leg over his shoulder.

He pressed his lips gently against your sex, kissing it softly. He began kitten licking at your clit and you started squirming, trying to push down harder against his mouth. But he wouldn't let you, his strong fingers pushed into your fleshy hips and held you in place, so he could give you the pleasure you were craving, on his terms.

Finally, after licking and swirling his tongue around your clit for what felt like a torturosly long time, Jensen pulled your teased, and now highly sensitive little bundle of nerves, into his mouth and sucked hard. Your first orgasm of the night, shocked you with its speed and intensity.

You tugged roughly on Jensen's hair as you cried out and he grunted at the pain. As your climax began to ebb slightly, he set to work again, his fingers curling up into you, pressing against your g-spot over and over and easily ripping another harsh and surprising orgasm out of you.

Your head was spinning from two such intense orgasms one on top of the other like that. But Jensen wasn't letting up.

He slid a third finger into you before pushing his tongue in too. Your legs were trembling as he pumped in and out of your wet channel. Occasionally he pulled his tongue out to flick against your hard clit.

After the third time you came on his tongue, your legs gave out but, Jensen just held you pinned against the glass as he finished sucking up every drop of you.

Finally he let your leg drop off his shoulder and scooped you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck and relished the feel of his bare chest beneath your hands as you ran your fingers up and down. He moved to sit on the chair in the corner throwing his sweater off of it and onto the ground.

He sat you up in his lap and settled so you were straddled over his left, denim covered leg.

"Jensen..." You began, but he kissed you silent.

As he pulled out of the kiss, he flexed his thigh muscle, lifting it to press deliciously against your dripping cunt.

You moaned deeply and grabbed onto his wide shoulders for balance.

"Do it, baby. Fuck yourself on me, use my thigh to get off." He picked you up to slam you against his thick hard muscles once again.

"I can't, Jensen," you panted, "I don't have the strength."

"Sure you can." He encouraged.

He moved his thumb down to very gently, very slowly circle your clit, giving you just enough friction that it left you chasing more. You threw your head back and then pounded yourself down on his thigh, nails pressing into his skin where you gripped his shoulders.

"Thatta girl!" He said through gritted teeth as your tits bounced and swayed every time you ground against him.

Your clit was burning from the rough contact with the denim, but you couldn't stop bouncing on him, rolling your hips back and forth, desperately chasing the high that was just inches away.

You moaned pathetically and leaned forward to suck on his bottom lip before you placed your forehead on his, hips still rolling against him.

"Please, Jensen!" You whined again."Please." You bounced against him one last time before he took pity on you and with perfect precision and pressure he circled two fingers on your clit only a handful of times before he broke you again.

You slammed up and down on his rock hard thigh as you came, drenching his jeans with your slick.

When you finally fell onto his chest, completely exhausted, Jensen picked you up again, and you wrapped your legs around his waist.

When he reached the bed he tossed you onto it.

"Hands and knees." He ordered in a voice that got you very close to your fifth orgasm of the night.

You did as he told you, crawling on hands and knees to the middle of the bed. You heard the jingle of his belt as he took off his wrecked jeans and the snap of his elastic waistband as he pulled down his boxer briefs.

Then you felt the bed dip as he came up behind you. He pushed a hand between your shoulder blades. "Pull that pillow over to you and lay down on it."

Again you followed his instructions quickly, already pushing back towards him, desperate to be fucked.

He petted his big hand down the length of your back, gripping your ass in one hand as he lined himself up at your entrance with the other.

He sank into you painfully slowly, holding your hips in check to stop you slamming back onto him.

He rolled his body against you, easing in and out of you at an incredibly slow pace.

You whimpered in need, your exhausted body desperate for him to take you over the edge one more time. But he wouldn't be hurried.

He leaned over you, covering you completely. He entwined his fingers with yours where they hugged the pillow, and spoke sure and strong into your ear.

"You are mine, darlin'" He said, his soft Texan drawl seeping out as it often did when he was hot and hard inside you, or when he was all blissed out from you sucking his cock.

"Tell me I'm yours." He demanded as he snapped his hips forward and drove deeper.

"Mine!" You shouted out in pleasure as you came again, walls clenching tight around him.

"Exclusively yours." He groaned against your skin as his hips pounded against you a half dozen more times before he shouted out his release and fell to the side with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

***

Many hours and many more orgasms later, you were sitting in the warm jacuzzi tub the suite offered in its palatial bathroom. Jensen sat between your legs and you had them wrapped around his trim waist.

He leaned his head back against your shoulder and the position gave you ample opportunity to run your hands and lips across his skin, which you took shameless advantage of.

You ran the washcloth over his broad chest and then brought it up to drizzle water over his thick, round shoulder, before leaning down to sip at the droplets of water that sat on his skin.

He moaned low and happy, a deep, contented rumble in his chest.

You felt it in your core, but you felt it tug at your heart too. You loved to see him like this, and you were so sorry that you'd stressed him out earlier.

You brushed his wet hair back off his forehead and kissed him there. His forest green eyes fluttered open and he smiled slowly, his eyes smiling too.

Your smile was apologetic. "I'm sorry." You opened your mouth to continue and he pulled you down for a wet kiss. When you pulled away you were panting softly and you pressed your lips against his temple.

His voice was gravelly when he spoke. "You said you love me. Do you?"

You frowned. "What kind of question is that? Of course I do!"

"Why?"

You were slightly taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I asked. Why do you love me?"

You thought for second. "So many reasons."

"Give me a few of them." He said, not backing down.

You shrugged somewhat self-consciously. You were a little afraid to give away just how much you loved him, admitting that gave another person an awful lot of power over you.

But you looked down into his shining, Viridian eyes and knew beyond a doubt that you could trust him with that power: he'd never abuse it.

"I love you because..." you started hesitantly, but gained confidence as you spoke.

"Because you make me laugh, a lot. And because you're smart. Because you're so unbelievably kind - to like, everyone. Because I see the little things you do automatically, without a second thought, to make things easier for everyone around you. Because you're a peacemaker and a storyteller! I could quite literally listen to you talk for hours and hours and never grow tired. Because I see how much you hold up your friends when they're struggling. Because you hold me up too. Because somehow you're capable of keeping everyone in your life safe and happy, carried with love and ease on these broad, beautiful shoulders."

You kissed his shoulder again and spoke the next words quietly against the muscle there. "And because you're loyal, and I know you'd never hurt me."

You looked back at him, your expression remorseful. "I really am sorry I let my fears and insecurities get the best of me."

Jensen nodded. "I know." He pulled you down for another brief kiss and then spoke against your lips. "Wanna know why I love you?"

You nodded shyly. He turned to face forward again, pulling your legs tighter around him.

"I love you because your soul is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His words struck you hard and tears came to your eyes.

"Because you make me feel like I could fly, like I'm capable of anything. I love you because you're impulsive and you force me to be a little more impulsive too. I love you for the way you love the people in your life, absolutely, and unconditionally. I love how you become a protective Mama Bear around anyone that is being harassed or bothered. I love the way you sass back to people who are unkind, I love that you don't let them get away with it."

He pulled your arms forward around his neck and turned his head to kiss your soft bicep. "But mostly, sweetheart, I love you for the exact, complete person you are. No one else is you. No one else could ever be you."

You nodded, rubbing your cheek on his. "I believe you, and I promise not to forget it."

"Good." He said. "And I noticed that nowhere in your list did you say that you loved me for the fact that I'm famous and/or that I make 'panties wet'." He said, using finger quotes and a giving a roll of his eyes.

You winced.

"Which I'm very happy about. Because you know, none of that stuff is real, the fame, the propositions from random women. None of it means anything. This is real. You. Here. All naked and wrapped around me, loving me...and trusting me to love you too."

You squeezed him tighter. "I will always trust you. I will always love you. And I will always be yours."

You leaned down and kissed him long and hard, until you both pulled away, desperate for air.

"And I will always be yours." You smiled at him and nipped his bottom lip.

"Exclusively."

1. Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@siospins2

@impalaslytherin

@akshi8278

@maggiegirl17

@candy-coated-misery0731

@nt-multi-fandom

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2. Dean Winchester Fics Only.

@saikosheadcanons

@lgranger67

@carryonwaywardgirl

3. Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

4. Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@awkward-and-indecisive

@maliburenee

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@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

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@mysherlock221b

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@thoughts-and-funnies

@magssteenkamp

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Masterlist

Tag Lists

#jensen ackles rpf #jensen x y/n #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles fanfiction #30 days writing challenge

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natashasfilms · 5 months

Text

Chapter Eight - Machismo

Summary: FBI agent Leila faces a profound life change after giving birth to a baby girl, supported by her loving husband. Despite the challenges of motherhood, Leila returns to her role as a dedicated agent a few months later, ready to confront gruesome and haunting cases with the BAU team.

Pairing: BAU!Fem!OC x Male!OC , EVENTUAL Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Fem!OC (Like much later)

Warnings: This story contains mature themes such as sexual content, strong language, violence, mentions of alcohol and drugs, blood, gore, and death. All the usual Criminal Minds stuff. And there is NO CHEATING.

Note 1: I imagine Leila Kade as South Asian but I have decided to let you, the reader, imagine her appearance, hence the reason why I have not given her a face claim. However, her race does not affect the story, whatsoever. You, as the reader, are free to imagine her however you want. If you don't see her as South Asian, then that's fine. It won't affect the storyline. I also imagine the OC!Male as South Asian, but again, it won't affect the storyline.

Note 2: The team will consist of the main cast (Emily, Derek, JJ, Spencer, Penelope, Aaron, and Rossi) but will also include Elle Greenaway and Jason Gideon because they were some of my favorite characters and I wanted to include them with the rest of the team. Basically, Elle and Gideon never leave when Emily and Rossi join.

Note 3: There will be multiple time skips throughout this series. For example, the first chapter will begin on the first season and episode of the show but then there will be a time skip to later episodes (because there are obviously way too many episodes to write this series on and I wanted to include specific episodes that would help the plot of this story). This means that this series will be a slow burn romance but I believe it to be better this way. This will also stray from the actual show a lot, so don't expect it to follow the plot precisely.

Series Masterlist

Season 1, Episode 19

Leila settled beside the kitchen counter, enjoying a warm cup of tea while waiting for Zaid to tuck Jasmine into bed. Her last day of the break was approaching its end. Although she missed her colleagues, she acknowledged that this time off had been thoroughly deserved.

As she stood in the kitchen, Leila sensed approaching footsteps and then felt a familiar embrace encircle her waist, drawing her backward against Zaid's chest. She smiled as she recognized his soft kiss on her neck, reaching up to stroke his hair. Setting down her mug on the counter, she turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You're going back to work tomorrow, so let's do something fun." Zaid suggested, grinning at her.

Arching an eyebrow, Leila tilted her head slightly. "Oh really? What's on your mind?"

"I don't know. Maybe watch a movie, bake some cookies, makeout…"

Leila laughed, bringing his head down to her, attaching her lips to his. They smiled against the kiss as he picked her up, walking all the way over to the couch. Laying her down, Zaid broke the kiss, beginning to pull her shirt off. Leila held herself up with her elbows, looking up at her husband. Her eyes traced his form, down to his arms, falling on the watch she gifted him for his birthday when they first started dating.

"I can't believe you still wear that stupid watch." Leila chuckled, nodding her head towards his wrist. "You could buy any watch that includes better functions but you choose to keep this one."

He looks down onto his wrist, the black enclosing around the time device putting a soft smile on his face. "It's the first present you ever gave me. You best believe I'll be wearing this for the rest of my life." He pecked her lips. "Plus, it still works like it's new. You have some magic in you, I suppose, because all my past watches before you broke after the second day."

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe because you didn't know how to work a watch until I came along, dumbass."

He scoffed, putting a hand over his heart. "Name calling is very bad. Don't be a bully."

Leila groaned, cupping the back of his neck to smash their lips together. "Enough with your stupid jokes." She mumbled against his lips, causing him to grin even wider. He pushed her down onto the couch, kissing her with intense passion as Leila took off his shirt. Zaid began to untie his sweatpants, kicking them off along with the rest of the clothes on the floor. Leila pulled back enough to utter one more sentence. "And don't tease."

"Yes, ma'am." He replied teasingly, slowly entering her with a groan. Leila let out a moan as he began to stretch her out, her mouth hanging open at the pleasure.

Her hands gripped right onto his biceps, Zaid pulling back to push back in once again. He leaned down to muffle her moans with his lips, not wanting to cause any loud noise throughout the house. He continued a steady pace, only increasing his speed once she adjusted.

"Shit, baby." He grunted against her lips, feeling her tight walls squeezing him. "You always feel so good around me."

Leila ran her hand through his hair, gently pulling. "Plea—fuck." Her words were cut off by him hitting a spot inside her that shook her, the pleasure coursing throughout her entire body.

"Yeah? That feel good?"

She only quietly cried out in pleasure, unable to form any coherent thoughts other than him on top of her.

"Words, honey. I need to hear you say it." He breathed out, kissing down her neck. He ensured to leave a mark.

"Yes, it feels so good." She whispered, her lips attaching to his again. They moved in sync until they finally reached their climax, moaning into each other's mouth before Zaid gently collapsed on top of her, using his arms to hold himself up to make sure he didn't push all his weight onto her.

Zaid lifted his head from in between her breasts to softly kiss her all over her face. Starting from her forehead, to her cheeks, to her chin, all the way around until he reached her lips. He carefully scooped her up with his arms, flipping her over to hug her, and kissed the top of her head.

Leila cupped his cheek, locking eyes with him. "I love you so much, Zaid Divan."

He nudged his nose with hers before he brought her hand up to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "I love you more, Leila Kade."

Leila yawned, her eyes slowly shutting as she felt Zaid pull a blanket over them that had been near the couch. He kissed her forehead once more before the two of them fell fast asleep.

Stepping out of the elevator, Leila entered the office through the glass doors, greeted by her colleagues quietly working in the cubicle.

"Look who's back!" Derek chimed in with a hint of teasing in his voice, rising from his desk to welcome her with a brief hug. He then took a step back, appraising her appearance. "Looking sharp as ever, boss lady."

Leila returned his playful tone with a grin, playfully pinching Derek's cheek. "Always the charmer, aren't you?"

Spencer hugged her next, with Elle following right after, embracing her with a warm hug. "Missed you. How did your break go? Feeling refreshed?" The brunette asked.

Leila nodded her head, widening her eyes for the extra effect. "A lot better, actually. So, what's new?"

"There's a new case." JJ interrupted, giving Leila a quick hug. "I'm glad you're back but we'll catch up on the plane." The blonde said before she walked up the stairs towards the conference room.

Leila grinned, looking at her three friends in front of her. "Cool. Where's Aaron and Gideon?"

"Gideon is in his office calling Hotch." Spencer explained. "He took some time off this weekend since it's his birthday today but I guess he has to come in again."

Leila opened her mouth in surprise, her eyes growing wide. "It's his birthday? I completely forgot." However, she thought back to what she told him last week and was glad he decided to take a small break for himself, despite the fact he had to come in for a new case.

"Well, good thing he's here now so you can tell him." Elle stated, her eyes falling on the man who just entered the room. Leila turned around and the four of them immediately yelled out a quick "happy birthday!"

"Thank you." Aaron responded, a little flustered at the gesture. Leila hugged him and he reciprocated, the woman patting his back. "Nice to see you back."

Leila gave him a smile, following all the others who were walking towards the conference room. "Yeah, it gets boring without me, doesn't it?"

Aaron chuckled in response, nodding towards Elle. "Elle may have complained about your absence more than once. Perhaps Spencer too. And Penelope. Derek said he missed going up to your office to annoy you."

She looked up at him, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. "And you?"

He shrugged, but she could see a hint of a smile on his face. "I took your advice and decided to take the weekend off."

Leila grimaced, knowing how the plan didn't turn out all the way successful. "I'm sorry you have to come to work on your birthday."

He shook his head, allowing her to walk in first to the conference room. "Don't worry about it."

Their new case led them to Mexico, where several women had been fatally stabbed. Although local newspapers reported a series of killings and labeled it the work of a serial killer, the Mexican government held a contrary view, asserting that there was no such killer on the loose.

Despite the Mexican government's denial of the serial killer rumors, the team was summoned because they had the latest victim's son in custody as their primary suspect. The authorities wanted the team to travel to Mexico and confirm if this was a one time murder.

After the brief meeting concluded, the team rose from their seats to prepare their bags. As Leila stood up, she noticed Aaron's disappointed expression while he held his phone. Gideon, stationed by the door, also seemed to have observed it.

"Hotch," Gideon called out, prompting the dark-haired man to look up. "Call from the car." Aaron nodded but remained fixated on his phone. Leila sensed that he hadn't anticipated leaving for a case today and perhaps hadn't informed Haley that he wouldn't be back immediately after the meeting. Not wanting to intrude, she left the room, empathizing with him and his family.

After a swift briefing on the jet, Leila settled into her seat toward the back. Gideon approached and took a seat in front of her, placing a cup of coffee on the tray in front of her. Leila looked up at him and expressed her gratitude with a quick thank you.

"I take it you're feeling better?" He asked genuinely, nodding towards the others on the jet who were engrossed in their own activities. "It's been a little hectic without you. All I've been hearing are complaints from these people."

Leila smirked, savoring a sip of her coffee. "Admit it. You missed me."

Wearing a lopsided smile, he returned to perusing the case file. Leila's grin expanded even more, appreciating the camaraderie she shared with her teammates.

Arriving at the Mexico PD, Captain Navarro immediately recognized Gideon. He introduced them to Lieutenant Borquez and shook hands with Gideon. After everyone was acquainted, they were ready to inspect the crime scenes and commence their case.

"I didn't realize you spoke Spanish," Leila remarked, looking at Elle, referring to the moment on the jet when she corrected Spencer. The brunette smiled in response.

"Yeah, it's pretty useful. My mother's Cuban," Elle answered. The two women joined Aaron, Gideon, and Captain Navarro in the car to head to one of the crime scenes. "I don't suppose you know a language that may surprise me?"

"Estarías sorprendido," Leila smirked, prompting Elle to raise an eyebrow, not surprised that her friend also knew Spanish. "Sé mucho más."

Elle chuckled, shaking her head. "At this point, nothing surprises me with you anymore."

After inspecting the victim's house and noting they were searching for a heterosexual male, they returned to the PD. Captain Navarro decided to introduce them to the District Attorney General, Maria Sanchez. Upon their return, Sanchez approached them. "Do not be afraid," Captain Navarro said quietly to them.

"Agente Gideon, Agente Hotchner, Agente Kade," she greeted, shaking all of their hands with remarkable confidence. "It's an honor. Our papers are fascinated with the idea of a serial killer, and when Navarro suggested that I invite you in to dispel this nonsense, I immediately saw the wisdom."

Leila maintained a tight-lipped smile, impressed with Sanchez's boldness but still holding onto her skepticism.

"But enough formalities. I will let you get down to business," Sanchez concluded, her smile never wavering. She excused herself, moving past them with the three agents stepping aside to let her through, followed by her bodyguards.

"She's worse in Spanish," Captain Navarro informed them, leading them inside the PD.

While the guys engaged in conversation with Miguel, the prime suspect in his mother's murder, Leila took a seat beside JJ. The blonde looked up, a grin forming on her face upon realizing who it was. "Hey, you're back."

Leila raised an eyebrow, supporting her chin with a hand. "Yeah, and I just met the District Attorney General. Confident woman."

JJ laughed, nodding in agreement. "Definitely, but she really does not want to believe there's a serial killer here."

Leila bit her lip before sighing. "That's unfortunate. She's going to have to learn the truth sooner or later."

"Mhm. Love how the day you get back, you're already going to Mexico, huh?" The blonde asked.

"Hey, it's a nice surprise, I'm not going to lie," Leila laughed, raising her hands. "Who doesn't love a lovely trip outside of the states?"

JJ held up a finger, pointing at her. "You're not wrong." She glanced back at the guys talking to Miguel and then turned back to Leila. "So, what do you think?"

Leila shrugged. "I think that Miguel is hiding something, but he didn't kill his mother." She spoke truthfully. "His mother hid a photo of him in a drawer, away from all of the family photos on display. He had a fight with his mother before he left, but I believe it was because of something completely different."

JJ furrowed her eyebrows, still confused. "What do you think he's hiding?"

"His sexuality," Leila confirmed, crossing her arms. "Miguel is gay. That's why he'd rather stay quiet than reveal that part about him. If anyone were to find out, they'd kill him. Things work differently around here. He's scared because he knows he'll never be accepted for who he is."

The blonde nodded in understanding, her eyes shifting to the men walking back into the room. Aaron called them over to talk outside, and the two women followed.

"The best way to bring the attorney general on board is by providing a complete profile," Gideon told Navarro, making his case.

Navarro shrugged, looking at Gideon. "What do you need from me?"

"We'll need the files on all the murders," Derek said, his arms crossed in front of him as he leaned against a car.

The captain nodded. "Of course, but I must warn you. These reports were taken by local police in the area who are not used to this type of killer," he said honestly, sharing all the information. "Most basic details are missing."

"We'll take a look at them," Spencer responded.

"We also need to get the whole story out of Miguel Trejo, and right now, he's not talking," Aaron continued.

"But why does that matter?" Navarro sighed. "Obviously, he's not a serial killer."

Leila tried her best to make him understand, recognizing the difficulty of the situation. "Yes, we know that, but we need people to understand that these are serial killings and not just a crime of passion. The family is angry, and we understand that, but keeping it a secret would only escalate things further."

"And why wouldn't Miguel talk if he's innocent?" Derek questioned.

Captain Navarro leaned against the wall, shaking his head. "It must have something to do with the fact that he is homosexual."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "He'd rather be straight in jail than gay as a free man?"

Navarro pointed towards the PD. "I can protect him in here, but if he's taken to a prison in Mexico City and the other inmates find out that he is gay, he will be killed. That's the way things work here."

Spencer creased his eyebrows in confusion, not seeing any other solution. "So how do we get him to talk?"

Leila looked toward the woman sitting inside, and an idea instantly popped into her head. "His sister."

After questioning Miguel's sister and his boyfriend, Roberto, and uncovering more evidence, they reached the conclusion that the unsub was a man disguised as a woman. They presented the profile to the police at the department, but as soon as they finished, news came in that another body had been found.

The latest victim was identified as Isabel Santiago, displaying the same wounds found on the previous victims. The team went to the victim's house to search for new clues, paying particular attention to the necklace that had been torn off her neck.

"That's the first time he's taken jewelry from the victims," Leila observed, standing up after inspecting the victim.

"So, why was this one different?" Derek questioned, glancing at everyone in the room.

They exited the house and walked outside. The victim's daughter was sobbing near the police car, and Leila frowned at the heartbreaking scene.

"Over the past two years, we've had an average of one killing every nine weeks," Navarro stated, hands on his hips.

"Now two in three days," Aaron added.

"That's a pretty extreme escalation," Gideon commented. "He'll kill again soon."

Derek pointed to the daughter. "Who's that over there?"

"That's the daughter of the victim," one of the officers answered.

"Maybe she can tell us something about the necklace," Derek suggested.

Leila and Elle proceeded to question the daughter, Anna, while Derek stood by their side. They asked about the jewelry, and Anna responded, telling them that the necklace was hers, as her mother never wore jewelry herself.

Aaron approached them and spoke quietly, informing them that there was a disturbance at the police station.

They arrived at the PD, witnessing the chaos that had transpired in a short amount of time. "What is going on here, Borquez?" Navarro asked. "What did they do?"

Borquez shrugged. "They are following the orders of the FBI. Bringing in the sex criminals."

"What did you tell them?" Navarro asked the team.

Aaron stepped forward. "We put out there the possibility that he dresses like a woman. We told them to look into people convicted of sex crimes. We didn't mean this."

Leila looked around, her mouth agape at all the people being detained by the officers. A car pulled up, and Maria Sanchez stepped out in a rush. Leila could tell she was angry.

"These men were supposed to put the serial killer rumors to rest, and now they are making us look like a joke," Maria said with frustration. "What do you want people to think of us?"

"It was a misunderstanding," Navarro responded, trying to deescalate the situation.

"And it won't happen again," Maria looked towards the team. "It was your idea to bring them here, and obviously, it was a waste of time. Please, go home." She finished, turning around to walk back towards the car and entering it. They watched her drive away, and Leila leaned towards Aaron.

"She's scary," she said quietly, and the man chuckled in response.

Finally, they located the unsub and identified his next target. The pattern emerged: he targeted victims by assaulting and subsequently killing their mothers. With this realization, they rushed to intercept the imminent attack on the last person they believed the unsub would target.

Barging into the house, guns raised, they moved toward the back of the house. There, they discovered a person on the ground, surrounded by a pool of blood. As they approached for a closer look, Derek flipped the person over onto their back, revealing the unsub who had been brutally stabbed.

Noises emanated from the bushes, causing them all to raise their guns in that direction. They lowered them once they realized it was the women who had been the unsub's victims. "He pretended to be a woman," one of the women spoke. "Now he doesn't have to pretend." They all dropped their weapons, standing up straight as the team and the officers maintained their focus on them.

Having successfully wrapped up the case, the team headed back home. They gathered their belongings from the hotel and made their way to the jet, eager to return to the states.

Upon reaching the BAU, they collected the remainder of their belongings and prepared to head to their respective homes. Leila walked into her office, turned on the lights, and noticed something on her desk. Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, she picked it up.

She instantly recognized the handwriting and chuckled, shaking her head. "Left this for you after you come back from your case. Jasmine says hi. We both miss you." She read the note, whispering to herself. Underneath was a photo of Zaid and Jasmine, and she tucked the note into her jacket pocket. "You just have to be so extra, don't you Divan?" She couldn't wipe away the grin on her face, knowing her husband would be the person to leave a physical note instead of a text message just to be dramatic. Grabbing her bag once again, she exited her office.

#angst #fluff #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds series #one shot #revelations series #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #aaron hotchner x original female character #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x oc

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val-writesstuff · 1 year

Text

Dear Diary

Prologue

Summary: Your brother and his best friend that you're secretly in love with, go missing. Peggy thinks somehow you’ll be able to find them. Will you find them, or will you lose yourself in the process?

wc:1.1k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

a/n: Am I starting a new series to procrastinate from my other one? Maybe. My brain doesn't listen when I tell it to focus on one thing, so here ya go.

Italics are writing

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Dear Diary

It's been a month since Steve disappeared. With him gone, nothing feels real. It feels like I'm drifting through life. I haven't felt like this since our mom died, Steve and Bucky were the only ones who could bring me back and now they're both gone.

Gone, not dead. Neither of my boys came home, neither had bodies. I think that might be worse, the not knowing. They could be stranded somewhere, freezing, and injured. I wish I could help them, wherever they are.

It’s weird being in this house alone. I don't go out anymore. I spend most of my days wrapped in my bed. I’ve been too scared to enter his room or move his stuff, what if he comes home and everything he knew is gone?

Peggy keeps coming by the house. She brings groceries, she cooks for me. Sometimes we sit and have tea together. She used to try to make small talk, but the past few days she just looked nervous around me. I know she feels bad about what happened but I can't help but blame her a little.

Our lives used to be relatively normal. Then Steve somehow gets into the army which, I know was his dream but it was crazy. I hoped they’d give him something easier like being a medic or something but he sends me a letter saying he's going to be experimented on. I didn't hear from him for a long time after that. Then ‘Captain America’ starts going around doing shows. I guess he was busy entertaining the masses. The next letter i got, he said something had happened to bucky and he was going to rescue him.

Then I got a knock on the door. Peggy herself was standing on my doorstep. I had never met her before but from the look on her face, I knew something had happened. Diary, I’m not proud of what happened next. There was a lot of screaming and crying, mostly from me. I know you'll say it's not very ladylike, but when have I cared about that before?

I still hate her a little, even if she's not the reason he joined. She got him involved in the stuff that got him killed. Got bucky killed too. I don't know if I’ll ever forgive her.

When I hear the knocking on the door I know it's her. I close up my diary and shove it back on the shelf before I open the door. Her smile wavers a little and I take a step back to let her in the apartment. I close the door behind her and busy myself with making tea so I don’t have to look at her.

I hear her sit at the table and take a deep breath before she finally says something. “Listen, I know I keep showing up and I'm probably the last person you want to see right now-” I scoff as I set the tea on the table and sit across from her. “But this time I'm here to suggest something and it's going to sound a little crazy, so please don't kick me out yet.”

From what I knew of her, Peggy’s version of crazy could be ‘come out and have a drink with me and some of the guys your brother knew’ or ‘Come get injected with an untested serum so you can fight bad guys.” Neither option sounds great right about now.

“Your brother told me about you. He told me about the things you can do, and how you're special in ways others aren't.”

“I don't know what he said but you have to believe me when I say it's not true.” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Stevie has always had a very active imagination.” I tried to muster up a chuckle as I rambled about my brother. “It's probably from all his time locked inside. You know he used to get sick easily? So, mom, wouldn't let him go play with the other kids. He’d spend all his time reading fairytales or drawing them and-”

She leaned in close and whispered as if somebody might overhear her. “He told me because he thought you could help us. He knew if anybody could get you in, it’d be me. He told me how you always used to take care of him, he wanted to take care of you.”

I cross my arms and glare at her. “He had no right to tell you that. You shouldn't know about that.”

“You might be right, but I'm glad he told me. I want you to do a job for me. My little team wants to search for them, Barnes and Steve. I convinced them you're the right person for the job.” Now I knew why she had looked so nervous recently, she was offering me a small ray of hope in the darkness.

“That sounds great and all but I don't have any experience with this kind of thing. My abilities wouldn't be of any help to you.” I didn't like the idea of anybody knowing what I could do, but if it helped find Bucky or Steve I’d do whatever I could.

“Dear diary…” I mutter as I pull my coat tighter around me as the wind blows snow in my face. “Today I get to explore the middle of nowhere because my stupid brother's insane girlfriend thought it would be wise to send me out here after a month of training. Truly a match made in heaven, those two.”

“I know it seems impossible but you're their only hope.” Peggy's voice crackled out of the portable radio I was clutching in my hand. “Howard's equipment picked up activity out there and we have high hopes it's him.”

“Peggy I admire your optimism, I do.” I sighed as I paused and looked around. All I could see was whirling snow and rocky cliffs. “But it's been months… He fell off a train for god's sake. On the off chance he is alive, he would've had to survive with probably very serious injuries and no rations. If he found a way to do that…I don't think he’d still be himself.”

“Please, you have to find him.” I could hear her voice crack even through the static of the radio. I knew she wanted me to do this so she’d have a justifiable reason to send me after Steve, that's what she wanted.

In the distance, I saw something silver glint in the sun and I took off running toward it. I fell to my knees as I pulled a pair of dog tags on a chain out of the snow. “Peggy I found-” my body couldn't decide if I wanted to sob or laugh. He was somewhere out here and he had survived the fall.

I was so distracted by what I found I never noticed the man creeping up behind me. Didn't realize I wasn’t alone until I felt the sharp pain of a needle in my neck.

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smolvenger · 1 year

Text

Miss Narracott and The Captain Part Five (Cpn. James Nicholls x fem! Reader miniseries)

Fandom: War Horse

Word Count: 6K

Chapter Warnings: Angst and fluff. Pining. Drunkenness. Mentions of sex but no smut. Inspiration from Jane Austen and Little Women. Attempts at historic accuracy. I choose violence at the end.

Series Summary: It is 1912-1914. You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. But the threat of war lingers in the air...

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six Coming Soon!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Comments, Reblogs, DMs, and Asks about my work are always appreciated! I always love doing period pieces like this! Feel free to ask to be tagged in this and/or my other stuff! Thank you!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract

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He offered you to sit down at the table. Once you had, he took the place across from you.

“Why do you wish to speak to me alone, Mr. Lyons?" you asked.

He rubbed his hands together. Then he began.

"Miss Narracott, I have taken notice of you these past two years. Despite the low station of your family, you impressed me. Your sweet nature, work ethic, good sense, and pretty face. All admirable. However, your father is unable to provide for his own family. Or afford his own farm. You are trapped by a family that cannot provide for themselves, or you. But…there is a solution a compromise, if you will."

You folded your hands on the table. Looking right at him. Trying to see if your heart would stop in its place. You could attest truth in some of his words. Right now, bad luck took away your cash crop. Ruined crops meant no rent. The eggs, the milk, and your wages could only cover so much. You could sell the animals as a last resort. Though not Joey, it would break your brother's heart too much.

You knew where this was headed.

He looked around at this place. Though your family rented it, it was truly he who owned it. He owned the stone walls. The staircase. The windows you looked out so many times. The sink. The doors. He even tried to own Joey. And now you were only more thing he was trying to add to his collection of ownership.

But this house! So familiar and safe to you! It was filled with so many things that made it a home. Your embroidery with flowers and sentences sewed in hung on the walls. On the fireplace mantle was a clock Dad loved to polish. Mum’s pans hung over your head in the kitchen. The seats and fireplace could make a cold winter's night cozy. At this very table, you would gather to eat, read, sew, have cups of tea, and live. And now, all of that had to be packed up and squished to move to your uncles. Or sold one by one to make ends meet. To buy time for the plants to grow. Or until you all had to beg.

It was dark inside. It was the late shine of afternoon becoming evening, but still bright. But the stone walls blocked the sunlight.

It was summer after all. And it mocked you in its sunshine and youthful joy outside. You heard the chickens clucking and Joey's hooves trotting about without a care in the world. Unlike you.

“Sir, you are proposing marriage to me,” you said directly.

“Yes, I am.”

Panic made parts of you see stars. But your vision came to normal. You looked down at the table, to regather yourself, then back at him. You swallowed. Keeping it down. You would not give into “hysterics.” Not yet.

If only there could be a distraction. A bird at the window. A thundercloud. Albert's owl whistle. Joey poking his head through the window for a snack from the kitchen, even! No, there was none. Only this. You put your hands on the table, fingers curled up. Everything in you sensed danger though you were at home and very still.

Part of you knew this would always happen. That it was only a matter of time. And now here was the moment. But why did you feel so horrible?

You wished you could run away. You wished you could run out the door and never speak to him again. To catch a cab out of the city to never deal with this! But…you forced yourself not to. Even if you didn’t want to be here, you knew it would come eventually. You would not flee. You would face him. You would stay here and deal with it.

Father used to fight in the Bower wars. He was brave then. Mum's brave. Albert's brave. I can be brave too, you thought.

He leaned a little closer to you. You felt yourself flinch back. He then put a cold, soft hand over yours. He showed no nervousness, usual for some suitors. His eyes were sharp on you. Lyons cleared his throat with his other hand. He began speaking.

“Miss Narracott… you have been the greatest surprise about this farm. About this family. And through these past two years, I have grown more and more affectionate with you. I think of all ladies here in town, you have my utmost opinion of superiority. Though I understand your family’s situation and standing more than anyone else, I can be a forgiving man. I can be a tender man beneath all this.”

He gestured to his overdressed striped waistcoat. He looked like an English zebra. If only Albert were with you. Then you both would bite your lips. Then flee to a corner and laugh at him. Then the next sentence hit you like a slap.

“And I will forgive your family's rent if you consent to be my wife.”

You heard the clock on the mantle tick.

“That was what you were discussing with my father?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He said if you said yes, it was alright by him.”

You forced your breaths to slow. Your hand shook beneath his and your belly boiled. Was this a trap? An idea struck you.

“You are a businessman, not a charity man, Mr. Lyons. Said so yourself, I recall. You cannot seriously mean you would forgive my parent's rent all the time. You need income from your tenants,” you reasoned.

“You are correct. I could extend the forgiveness for a year at most.”

A year without rent. More than enough to recover the loss of crops. It was too good to be true. Was it?

“You say that you like me. What will my life be like after I marry you?” you queried.

Lyons smiled.

“You will live with me in my house. All my servants shall call you mistress. You won’t have to feed chickens for the rest of your life…You will have anything you could want- you have my word! Anything is yours!” he elaborated.

“Breakfast in bed delivered by maids every morning?” you asked.

“Of course, you can, I don’t see why not. It will be a comfortable, glamorous life. That is what I offer you.”

It seemed like the life of being a Wealthy Lady was finally in your grasp. Just like the ones in the catalogs.

“I-I…I don’t know what to say…this is a lot…” you babbled.

Tears were welling up in your eyes, slowly falling. One drop curled in a minuscule puddle on the tablecloth. You got out your handkerchief.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

"It's natural for women to cry with joy when they are proposed to! Especially like this!” he commented.

But you were crying for a different reason. The pure overwhelm of everything.

"Let me ask again-Would you like to be my wife, live a life of ease, and easily have your family keep their farm? I will make you happier more than any man here in town could."

He even from his pocket got out a velvet box with a ring inside. It was encrusted with a diamond that glittered when the sun hit it. You must admit, it was beautiful and right up your alley. Costly, too. But it felt tight on your finger as if preparing it to be chopped off by a knife by squeezing the life out of it.

"That is what I have to offer you- whatever you want. Anything you wish for is yours, Miss Narracott.”

"Like gloves?" you asked.

"Your pick of them!"

"I have one that's missing...where is my glove?”

He tilted his head.

“Your what?” he asked.

“My cream-colored glove! One’s been missing for a year now! Did you take it? I thought you stole it out of fondness for me. I’d like it back, please,” you explained.

He blinked, shaking his head.

“I never took your glove!” he confirmed.

“Oh…I was mistaken….” You sighed.

Your head was spinning. Breakfast in bed every morning. Motorcars. Fancy hats and all the dresses you craved at last. Servants. Never having to do a minute of work for the rest of your life. Afternoons spent lifting your feet up like a queen in town. Knowing your family’s house was safe. They had time to recover the lost crops. That they had stability…

“Miss, you try my patience. I do expect an answer- immediately,” he said.

But all while married to Lyons.

You looked up at him. You did not feel an ounce of attraction. You knew several older men who were far more handsome than he. His ridiculous red mustache! Could you kiss those whiskers on your wedding day? Would they tickle? Would they make you sneeze or even laugh when you kissed him- not from joy but from how silly they looked on him? Could you sit with him and talk with him every day? Spend every meal with him? Could you attend every Sunday service beside him? Could you call David your stepson?

Then it came to the marital act. You were taught about what happened by your mother, your friends, and the farm animals. Could you see yourself wanting to bed this man? Could you… do these sorts of things to this man? Let him do all sorts of things to you? Could you crawl into the same bed as Lyons nightly? See his naked body? Let him see yours? Feel him on you? In you? Wake up next to his face every morning? You could push him away, but not for long. And what if you got pregnant? Would you want to carry this man’s child? Make more of him into the world?

He wasn’t old enough to die soon. And you doubt you could get away with murder. Or file a divorce.

Perhaps you could learn to love him. Even if he wasn’t a handsome man in your eyes, what about his character? Men didn’t have to be handsome to be kind, gentle, respectful husbands who treated their wives well.

Thinking back, you recalled every interaction. How he scoffed at rabbits as “vermin.” His behavior toward your family when they desperately tried to get the field plowed. He harassed your father and mother. Taunting their worries. Speaking with cruelty and superiority. Not even a whisper of sympathy for their situation. And not only to people beneath his power but to the people he wanted as in-laws!

He hadn’t changed a bit.

Was that a man you wanted to marry?

You thought of the field. The storm. The brokenness on your father’s face. The relief on it if you walked out, flashed the ring on your finger, and said, “The rent is forgiven for a year, Dad!”

Then you remembered your mother’s words. About being a woman. About self-sacrifice. About happiness.

How much you gave and sacrificed already for your family. If you made this one sacrifice; If you married this man, it would be no different than plunging a blade into yourself. Or tearing at each part of yourself until barely anything was left. An empty husk from your wedding day until death did you part. An empty, unhappy shell all your days.

That wasn't worth it.

You looked up into Lyon's eyes and said one word.

“No.”

He blinked. His smile was unfazed.

“What did you say?”

“I said no,” you clarified.

“No breakfast in bed?”

You took off the ring and placed it in the box. You slid it back to him. You stood up. Trying to feel taller than him as he sat.

“No to your offer. I cannot and will not accept,” you said.

“Your families rent! This is quite an incredible opportunity. Think of my generosity. Think of it!” he argued.

“You’re not proposing to me. You’re extorting me,” you accused.

You began to shake even more, tears poured out of your eyes. Yet you kept speaking.

“You’re not a nice man. And you wouldn’t be a good husband to me. So, do you hear me? My answer is no!”

You dipped your head down. You wiped the tears off with your sleeves, then looked back up. He got up as well, putting the box in his pocket.

“You will be our landlord. But no more. And you will respect that boundary. Or we will live somewhere else…” you told him.

“Very well then…My business here today is done. I’ll leave,” he replied.

You walked over and opened the door. Mr. Lyons stepped right outside, tipping his hat with a solemn look. His face frowning.

“You lost quite an opportunity, Miss Narracott,” he said.

You heard a familiar honk. A smile returned to you at the sound.

“We have no servants here. Harold will see you out,” you announced.

Harold charged onto Lyons. Wings flapping and feathers flying. Lyons struggled to run out. The goose bit his leg. Lyons let out an “Agh!” in pain. He lost any dignity he had left shaking away the offensive gander. The landlord couldn’t take a step without dealing with Harold’s nipping beak. He retreated to the door of the gate pursued by the goose.

Your parents had been sitting on the large rock near the bottom field. They jumped up and ran over to watch. Harold kept honking and flapping his wings at the threshold when your hopeless suitor got out. Off Lyons ran to his motorcar, his servant driving him far away. Harold let out a few final, triumphant honks at the gate. Then shook his head and waddled away like a parade of victory.

You heard Albert yelling out and his running footsteps.

“Y/N! Y/N! Don’t you worry, I’m right-“

Albert burst forth to the front yard. You saw he had a pitchfork in hand.

“Albie!” you said.

He looked around you, getting your shoulders with his free hand.

“Are you alright? I heard no screaming, but lots of raised voices, I did! He didn’t…didn’t hurt you, did he?” he asked.

“You…. you were going to attack him…to protect me?” you asked.

“Yes, like I promised you! Always will!”

You clutched him and cried. Finally releasing the urge to sob for the past hour. Dropping the pitchfork, he hugged you back. You heard your parents from behind.

“He made you an offer, didn’t he?” Mum asked.

Letting go of the hug, you turned to them and nodded.

“He said he’d forgive the rent for a year if I did. And I refused him,” you explained.

You began crying to your parents, wiping off a tear with your sleeve like a child who broke a teacup.

‘I’m so sorry…I know that…I know how much it would…it would have saved us…” you babbled to your parents.

You dreaded seeing two disappointed faces. Hearing disappointed words. But instead, your mother stepped forward.

“You’ve no reason to be sorry, come here, darling, come here…” she consoled.

She wrapped you into a hug. You dug into her purple blouse, crying into it. She rocked you as you stood, letting you cry. Then you peeked your head up at your father. Releasing the hug, you approached him.

“Dad I’m…I’m so sorry…I failed you; I know…I could have saved us, saved you and…and I didn’t!” you cried.

“Are you mad at me, girl? That’s what I’m worried about…” he asked.

You shook your head.

“No…you could have forced me, but you didn’t…you…you gave me a choice…you let me choose!” you answered.

He squeezed your arm. Then all three of them hugged you. A circle of warmth and love, safe to cry, safe to release.

“We’ll figure something out…Shhh, it’ll be alright…” Mum consoled you.

Releasing the hug, you saw Albert’s eyes light up with an idea.

“We have an uncle. We’ll ask him to hire us!” Albert suggested.

You then looked up at your stone house. The farm that had been your whole life. The farm that you refused them to keep at the price of your happiness.

“Where will we live, mum?” you asked.

“I’ll tell you. We’ll live together,” she answered.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were grateful for the chores on the weekend and work on Monday. You were relieved to see customers, organize items, and hear your co-worker’s chatter. Anything to not obsess over what happened. They were a welcome distraction. When you returned from work, Albert was all a-chatter. When you walked through the gate, he approached you and jumped subjects like a squirrel jumped through trees.

“Dover’s fair’s coming up and Joey’s got to win a prize again! He has to! And oh! Captain Nicholls stopped by to draw Joey today! Oh- and Andrew! Andrew’s winnin’ all the bees at school! Right clever, he is! And Dad says we got some eggs hatched up! Not too many washed up in the storm! And Mum’s making beef and gravy for dinner! It’s already making my mouth water thinking about it! And there’s some fuss goin’ on in Austria-I heard this fellow was in his car and-“

When he saw the look on your face, he shut his mouth. Then looked at you.

“How’re you today? Sad about Lyons?”

“Some. But it’s better,” you replied.

“I’m glad you said no, Y/N. Don’t want him as my brother-in-law, I don’t!” Albert confessed.

You let out a small laugh at the words and he gave you another hug.

Dad did what he always did when times were tough- go out to the pub. He left after dinner. No one said a peep when he walked out. All knew it was worthless to stop him.

That night, sleep was not easy to achieve. Your mind reeled about the confrontation with Lyons. Thinking through and playing each moment over and over, troubling and tormenting you. Unable to sleep, you got out of bed. You gathered a shawl and went downstairs to the fireplace, starting a fire. Curled up on a chair, you stared at it, the sound comforting you.

Then there was a knock on the door. Answering it, you saw Si Easton with your father’s arm over his shoulders.

“Bloody sloshed, he is! But got him home safe!”

“Si, thank you so much. Be careful getting back home,” you said.

Si tipped his hat and then left. Stumbling in his steps, you led dad to a chair, he was mumbling, humming a song.

“Here… Just relax now…I’ll get you a blanket and some water…” you comforted him.

Leaving, you fetched an old quilt and put it over him. Dad looked at you, his cheeks red and eyes glazed. You were lucky Dad was never a violent drunk. Only a happy, chatty one.

“Hmm…. you’re something of a princess, Y/N…” he slurred.

“I wish I actually was,” you commented.

“There was a row at the pub over you,” Dad continued.

You turned your head. Were these drunken ramblings over nothing? Or did this really happen?

“What do you mean?” you pressed further.

You sat down on the floor and held his hand as he rambled on.

“Hmph…some fellow…I don’t know how he found out, but he did. Grabbed Lyons by his suit- big, tall man. Slammed him on the wall! Yellin’ ‘What were your intentions with Miss Narracott?’ and Lyons couldn’t answer. The man was ready to box him with his cup, he was, if the others hadn’t pulled him off. Right before he could get a good box on ‘im. All the men pulled ‘em apart, they did. Old Jonesy ran to ‘em. Scoldin’ about how he doesn’t like rows in his pub. Pulled ‘em apart and told to go home, sober up. Hmmm, good to know… didn’t think Devon was that small…but…interesting, isn’t it? At least he got him, so I didn’t have to!”

The fireplace crackled. You fetched him a cup of water. But it stood on the table near the chair, untouched.

“Did you talk about the proposal? Who fought Lyons?” you asked.

“Don’t remember, no…Hmmm…didn’t see nothin’ who he was…” he murmured.

He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and soon snored.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The next day, work was welcome again. Perhaps at break or at lunch, you would recount to your friends what happened. But when the thought occurred, the bell over the door rang. In walked Sarah Corbyn again. Back on her trail. Her dress was in a yellowish hue so that she shone like gold in that brown shop. She approached you.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

“I hear there are some new books that have arrived. I’d like to see them, please,” she requested.

“They’re over there,” you pointed, guiding her to the books.

She looked at two, then turned over to you with a smile of concern. But this time, you did not smile back. Maybe the rejection had emboldened you. You stiffened your body as if preparing for a fight with knives rather than the sugary cruelty of her words. You would not tolerate her viciousness anymore.

“I hope you are well!” she chirruped.

“I am,” you answered.

“How is work, Miss Narracott?”

“Good, as always, Miss Corbyn.”

She leaned in closer with a smile. But this time, you folded your hands in front of you. Not smiling back.

“Though, I must tell you, as I have before- as you are a friend of mine. About Captain Nicholls…

You looked into her eyes.

“Miss Corbyn, I do not like to discuss one’s personal matters at work. I have many things to do. I like to be productive with my time. Please do not discuss such things with me in the middle of my shift.”

She blinked her eyes. Her nose scrunched in disbelief. Then she shrugged. She turned to the books, purchased two, and left.

Once work ended and you left the shop, you saw her. She waited for you like a spider waiting for a fly to enter its web. But you were not going to be prey this time. Not without a fight.

She walked over to you with that same smile.

“Oh, how glad I am your shift is over!” she said.

You turned over and folded your arms, glaring into her eyes.

“Work is done, so let me speak frankly. Miss Corbyn, you can at least be honest with me.” You began.

She only smiled, with a slight tilt of her head.

“I am always honest with you!” she shrugged.

You stepped forward.

“Miss Corbyn- I do not want to hear your boasts about Captain Nicholls. I understand what you are doing and why it’s to me. I am tired of hearing it! I’m tired of your attacks and insults! Don’t think I don’t understand what you’re doing! I heard about your soap comment-it’s only because my family and I work hard! It’s not funny and it’s not right! I want you to stop. If you do this one more time, I’ll tell Nicholls himself- I doubt he would think you more admirable! If you think tormenting and bullying me will make you look better for your fiancée, you’re wrong!”

“Fiancée!?” she repeated.

“Is he your fiancée? He’s a respectable man! Not the type to leave a woman hanging! I thought he should be by now! Is he?” you asked.

She took a step back. She had a frown. Then she took off her gloves and showed her hands-no rings.

“We’re not engaged. I wish we were,” she said.

With that, she put her gloves back on. She turned on her heels and left.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

That Sunday, once church was over, you went up to Captain Nicholls.

“Good morning, Miss, what did you think of-“

“May we please talk outside?” you interrupted.

He blinked. He gave a glance at Major Stewart. Stewart tightened his lips.

“Of course, we can,” Nicholls answered.

Joining the filtering congregation, both of you walk out to the street. A few feet from the church crowd.

“Are you in love with Miss Corbyn?” you asked directly.

He dropped his jaw, and his face became pink.

“What- no! She’s mad for me, but not I for her!” he cried.

“I ask because…I see her with you. All around you! Dancing with you!” you elaborated.

“Her father is a Lieutenant in the army. It’s impossible to say no to him when he invites me over. And so, it’s been impossible to avoid her,” Nicholls explained.

“You dance with her twice per social!” you argued.

A few heads turned, then they walked away. You stopped caring who overheard. You had to get the truth out of him.

“I made one promise in winter so she would not be partnerless at her first dance. Then in spring, I told her only one! She frowned but relented.”

Shame made a rock in your stomach. You realized you turned away from the two dances that spring out of spite. Not even looking. Had you turned back then, you would have seen only one dance between them. Not two. Flustered, you kept speaking.

“You’re always smiling at her!”

“I’m nothing if not polite, Miss Narracott!” he reasoned.

You stepped forward, your hands curled into fists on your sides.

“Did you lead her on?”

He held your gaze.

“I thought she was jolly, pleasant company at first. Then I dined with her family at their house. I saw her with her servants...and I confess, her behavior shocked me. Always demanding, never grateful. Her lack of…she seems to lack consideration of any person’s feelings but her own. I do not wish to speak ill of anyone, but it is the truth. I still owe her decent treatment, like any person. Especially a lady. No more, no less,” Nicholls finished.

You took a step back, bowing your head. Shame washing down on you. Were you no better than a jealous, clingy hen?

“Oh…I’m sorry, I just…if she was who you wanted, that was fine…I just…”

You took a step back. Then looked away. He walked around to see you, stopping in your tracks.

“I accept your apology. And Miss…your farm is still open for me to draw there; I’d like to visit today. If it won’t bother your duties …” he suggested.

“No, you may…you may visit,” you permitted.

Sure enough, around teatime, he did. Though he did not drink a drop of tea or eat a bite of his biscuit. But got his chair and sketchbook and set to work. You were in the laundry area to hang up wet clothes. Your father went down to the bottom fields. Mum stayed inside to scrub the floors. Albert went up to chat with the captain as Joey pranced about the grass. He took a deep breath. Surrounded on that lovely summer day, the sun shining and a light breeze blowing through.

“Joey’s quite wild today! Excited for the fair, he is! He’s got to run, sir! Too much spirit! Sorry for that!”

“You can ride him out, Albert. I can draw the chickens or Harold instead,” Nicholls permitted.

With that, Albert swung his leg over the horse and galloped off. But once he was gone, Nicholls approached you.

“But Miss…are you alright?” he asked, softening his voice.

“You mean about Miss Corbyn?”

“No, Mr. Lyons…” he clarified.

You stopped pinning up laundry, setting the shirt down on the basket.

“You heard?” you asked.

He nodded.

“Albert told me…how do you feel now?”

You let out a deep breath.

“I feel…I feel relieved. And worried. But…I feel free…” you confessed.

“And you’re safe? He has not…bothered you since then?” he continued.

You shook your head.

“No. Never brought it up again,” you said.

“That’s good…”

He stayed there. You hung up the wet shirt to dry. Then you took down and folded some dried socks in a separate basket. Nicholls looked away to the field but stayed still. He began to fidget with his hands. He then walked out but did not return to his chair and sketchbook. He paced a little about the yard. You then paused and took a step towards him.

“Sir, is something the matter? Are you feeling well?” you asked.

“Miss Narracott…could you come here, please?” he asked.

You took a few steps closer. Out into the sunshine where birds carried their songs, the breeze was gentle, and summer was in bloom. His hands kept fidgeting, though he took a deep breath.

“May I be frank?” he asked.

“Of course…”

“I’m so sorry for this misunderstanding about her…I wish you confronted me sooner…” he confided.

“It’s all done now! I know you’re heartbroken because you were in love with Miss Corbyn!” you assured him.

He looked into your eyes with gentleness.

“I never loved Miss Corbyn. I’m not in love with Miss Corbyn.” he confessed.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

He reached into the left front pocket of his uniform. And pulled out your long missing glove.

You dropped your jaw and let out a gasp despite yourself, yet you felt yourself smile. You gaped at the glove then at him then the glove then him again. He offered you your glove and you felt it but didn’t remove it from his hand. Your heart raced, again trying to believe this was real. Everything- these words. This-this was real. If he was real.

He then looked at you with eyes wide.

"You...you took my glove...you had it for a year..." you wondered.

"You lost it at church. It was a hot day. You took your gloves off and kept them in your hand. As you left, this one fell on the pew. I kept meaning to return it...but...I...I wanted a reminder. Always there. To think of you...remember you..."

"Captain Nicholls…” you gasped, wondering if your mind could form words now.

“Can I speak more?” he asked.

You nodded. He took a step closer, placing a hand over yours. Warm, calloused, and gentle to touch.

"Miss Narracott, I've admired you. You’re a lovely woman. Your kindness, your loyalty, your heart...how much you cared for your family. How strong you always were. How gentle you were with all the animals-even Harold! And I..."

You looked at him. His eyes began to brim with a few tears.

"It was not one day. It was every small day, every small hour I spent with you. Each time, the more I met you, the more I knew you, the easier it became. The more I felt for you. And every corner you turn, every time you turn away and leave…I pray for one more minute. One more chance. One more instance, only to see you, only one glance. To hear you say only one word. I cannot keep it a secret anymore-I love you, Miss Narracott. I adore you. I worship you. And I want you, more than I ever wanted anything…”

Such words were not easily recovered from. Nothing else registered. Only him. He blushed, then glanced down at your hand. He gave you the glove and let go.

"So, tell me and relieve my torment...do you feel the same? If not, I will never set foot on this farm again and bother you again," he said.

You took one step forward and placed a hand on his. Holding it and looking him in the eyes.

"James...James, I feel the same..." you answered.

It was the first time you ever said his first name. His shoulders relaxed. He broke into a beautiful, adoring smile at you.

"I was...was never sure...and... The day Albert told me you were proposed to, I knew I had to gather the courage to tell you. That some gentleman with money would arrive and swoop you away. Then I'd have to stifle my feelings and let it die. I worried in that moment...I would lose you forever...not that I didn't want you to be happy. I only... I worried in your situation; you would marry out of desperation. That I had rivals I never expected..." he continued.

You placed the glove in his hand and put your second hand in his. You recalled your father’s drunken recollection.

“Albert told you about Lyons and Dad said there was a row at the pub. Did you-?”

“I had only one sip too many that night. I was tipsy, but I wasn’t drunk. And Lyons said something about being alone with you- it struck me. If he…took advantage of you …then you would be forced to marry him. Out of reputation.”

Nicholls lowered his head, then looked back at you.

” I lost control and…and I grabbed him onto the wall. I raised my voice at him. I threatened him if he did something. But…I did it because…I was frightened for you, and I didn’t want you hurt…” he finished.

He looked down, blushing red.

“I’m not proud of it. I’m not usually like this…I’m so sorry,” he apologized.

You shook your head, giving him a smile.

“But you did this because you worried about me. You cared for my well-being. You wanted me safe. How could I think less of you knowing that? It’s no matter,” you cooed.

He was breathing heavily.

"But the matter Is I love you, Y/N."

He finally said your first name. You could have glowed from happiness. You looked up and smiled. There were tears in your eyes- this time from joy.

"I love you too, James."

Suddenly there was the sound of clucks and a honk. Both of you jumped as Harold chased a bunch of chickens through the yard, Captain of his own charge. Both of you let out a laugh as you stepped aside, then reclasped hands. In the distance, you heard a familiar "neigh!"

"But James your intentions are honorable, are they?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“This means...you will talk to my father, yes?" you asked.

His smile widened.

"Happily."

Your heart stopped in your chest, and you felt giddy.

"I never thought you’d feel towards me...never believed I was worthy of you..." you confessed.

"You are, oh, sweet Y/N, you are!" he whispered.

There again was the sound of hooves. Albert’s brown head in the far distance.

"Albert will be soon...may I kiss your hand?" he asked.

"Yes."

He took a brief glance down at it, feeling your palm and enjoying the touch.

"Y/N... darling..."

He smiled; eyes bright as he brought it up to kiss it. It was short, but his lips were soft. He breathed in as he kissed you, savoring each bit of you. And you savored the second you felt his lips on your hand. Then he released. Much too soon, you let go.

You took returned to the laundry room, to fold and sort clothes Nicholls went back to his chair near the stable field. Albert galloped back in on Joey.

"Woah! Easy-boy! Aren't we a team, Captain!" Albert bragged atop the stallion.

"Indeed, you are!" James- for now, he was not only Nicholls but James! – replied.

Albert got off Joey and began to brush off the dirt on the horse.

"Nice and handsome- isn't he?"

"Yes, very. Do you agree, Miss Narracott?" James asked, turning towards you.

Both of you shared a smile at each other.

"He definitely is,” you answered.

Though after a few minutes of drawing, you saw out of the corner of your eye that James set his pencil down and closed the book. He got out of his chair and with a determined expression. He then looked over at you with a nod. You clutched the drying bed sheet you were getting off its line. James turned it over to your brother. Though you turned innocently to the laundry, your ears focused on them.

“Albert…where is your father now?”

“He’s down in the bottom field putting in seeds. Do you need him, sir?” Albert asked.

“I just want to speak to him.”

“Whatever for, sir?”

But before he could give the boy an answer, the gate swung open. Harold honked with an alert at a guest. You turned and saw Major Stewart rushing in.

“Jim! Jim! We’re needed immediately! Headquarters!” cried Major Stewart.

He turned his head.

“I need to go now, goodbye,” he wished Albert.

Albert dipped his head in farewell. Nicholls went over to you. Major Stewart at his heels.

“Goodbye Y/N, I’m sorry…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

He leaned forward, giving you a whisper. Stewart stood back with folded arms and a raised eyebrow. His lips tried not to smile.

“Don’t worry…the minute I am free...”

“All the time you need, James.” You replied.

He put on his hat and tipped it at you. Saying his last goodbyes to his hosts, he left with Stewart.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were smiling brightly the next day. You put on the nicest of your white blouses and darker-colored skirts for work. But you took extra time that morning on your appearance- in case James entered! And you saw him! You even found yourself grinning and humming as you restocked items throughout work.

“Why, someone’s cheery today! You were all doom and gloom last week, Y/N!” Alice commented as you both swept up some leftover dirt on the floor.

You leaned against the brush.

“Alice…can I confide in you?” you whispered.

“Oh, of course!” she said.

You softened your voice, the thought bubbling inside you like a hundred butterflies.

“Something…wonderful has happened. And something even better is about to happen…” you began.

“Ooo, don’t leave me in suspense! Tell me!” she urged in excitement, with a toothy grin.

As you leaned over, the words were right on the tip of your tongue. “I’m in love!! I’m in love and he loves me too! He finally told me yesterday! He’s going to talk to my father! And this means that-“

But instead, there was the sound of a loud engine and yelling. Muffled over crowds of people bursting into loud talk right outside the shop. The church bells were ringing, and they never rung outside of services.

“What’s all the fuss? Stay here girls- I’ll be back!” Mrs. Snow offered, opening the door.

All of you peeked outside. People were handing over newspapers. Some gathered around one gentleman in a motorcar with a brown mustache. And no one looked happy.

When Mrs. Snow returned, her face looked like a ghost.

“Ladies…we are at war with Germany.”

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