#its so hot ummm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

povlnfour · 5 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ CONTENT CREATION (CL16)

pairing: charles leclerc x f!reader

summary: when ferrari hire a new content creator to help their social media presence, fans start noticing a certain friendship developing between her and their star driver.

*face claim: dina denoire (but please imagine her as you see fit)

scuderiaferrari just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by 209,885 people

scuderiaferrari we’re all smiling and relaxing on media days📸

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user who is taking such good photos when did ferrari care about their social media

user okay loving all this content we are getting lately but what changed admin

user charles wearing white jeans gives me anxiety

user ferrari cooking something

ferrari just posted a reel ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by 451,209 people

scuderiaferrari charles’ comments after the race have left us craving something 🍕

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user SO THAT WAS A GIRL’S VOICE RIGHT.

user IS THE NEW HIRE A GIRL

user so you DID hire a new media person… i knew all this content was too good to be true

ferrari just posted a tiktok ੈ✩‧₊˚

84k likes, 1.2k comments, 1k shares

video captions:

[carlos: is my person attractive?

charles *laughing*

carlos: that tells me everything!

charles: yes she is!

carlos: is it y/n then?

charles: i’m saying nothing]

ferrari charles and carlos play who am i featuring the members of our ferrari team!👀

top comments

user CHARLES WHAT DO U MEAN UR SAYING NOTHING.

user WHO IS Y/N AND WHY DOES SHE HAVE CHARLES LAUGHING LIKE THAT

user okay but carlos knowing he was immediately y/n from the way charles blushed👀 what does he know that we don’t she must be hot

user admin give us a y/n reveal💳💳💳

ferrari just posted a tiktok ੈ✩‧₊˚

39.8k likes, 415 comments, 890 saves

ferrari what time do our team arrive for our meeting?

top comments

user THIS IS THE FAMOUS Y/N???? SUDDENLY I UNDERSTAND CHARLES

user UMMM WHO IS THE GIRL

user double checking their team on the website it would appear she’s the content creator👀

user the one charles keeps mentioning???

user wait what time did the meeting start😭

yourusername 5… some of us were late

user IS THIS HER ACCOUNT BC IF SO…???? IM PANICKING SHES SO HOT

yourusername hi😭😭 yes this is me!!!

user oh my god she’s so hot

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by charles_leclerc and 56,408 others

yourusername first few months of many travelling the world have been a dream. grazi ferrari❤️

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user FINALLY FOUND UR ACCOUNT IVE BEEN WANTING TO SCREAM ABOUT HOW HOT YOU ARE FOR AGES

user was so focused on you i didn’t even notice the photo of charles

charles_leclerc no photo credits?

yourusername WAH WAH WAH

user how does it feel to liVE MY DREAM

yourusername pretty incredible tbh

ferrari just posted a video ੈ✩‧₊˚

[video captions:

CARLOS: who is most likely to be late because they overslept?

CHARLES: *laughing* probably y/n. she’s always late. i don’t think i’ve seen her be on time to a single meeting yet. she’s also notoriously hard to wake up and sleeps through her alarms and being shaken!

CARLOS: *teasing* you speak from experience, no?

CHARLES: *laughing* i’ve definitely struggled to wake her up a few times!]

twitter reacts ੈ✩‧₊˚

charles_leclerc just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 561,356 others

charles_leclerc enjoying the summer break

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user IS THAT Y/N?

user so ferraris content creator gets to see charles shirtless ? where do i apply

yourusername nO pHoTo CrEdItS?!😤😤😤

user GET HIM

user not to be that person but if they went on holiday together that means they probably shared a hotel room right…

user oh they’re totally doing it

user can’t blame her at all i would too

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by charles_leclerc and 98,406 others

yourusername some well deserved time off🫶

view all comments

user UMMM THE SECOND PHOTO??? ITS GIVING BOYFRIEND

user BESTIE WE ALL KNOW UR TOGETHER JUST MAKE IT OFFICIAL‼️

user this is confirmation in my head

formula1 just posted a video ੈ✩‧₊˚

[video captions:

CHARLES: y/n how do i look?

Y/N: you look alright.

CHARLES: just alright? oh my god my heart is broken.]

top comments

user WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR HEART IS BROKEN CHARLES WHY IS HER OPINION SO IMPORTANT TO YOU👀

user oh so they spend the whole summer break together and now they’re in love????

user charles and y/n just announce you’re dating already i beg

user a whole formula 1 video and the first thing charles thinks of is to ask for y/n’s opinion… yeah we’ve lost him guys

user fr and i can’t even blame him have you SEEN her

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by charles_leclerc and 98,406 others

yourusername thanks idiot for mentioning my name constantly on the internet. glad to know i’m always on your mind (you’re on mine too)

view all comments

user OH MY GOD I KNEW IT

user TEARS THEYRE SO CUTE

user not ferrari playing matchmaker😭

charles_leclerc i love you. sorry i had to scream about it, glad i can do it double time now

charles_leclerc just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55 and 561,356 others

charles_leclerc shout out to ferrari for introducing me to the girl of my dreams and only being minorly annoyed when i decided to make her mine

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user SO REALLLL

user MOTHER AND FATHER!!! ITS OFFICIAL

user when will I have my fanfic worthy love story

carlossainz55 i can’t wait to third wheel for the rest of our career together

yourusername you love us really

carlossainz55 i do. i really do

—————

taglist (found here): @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @ironmaiden1313 @champagnelovers101 @alessioayla @hobiismyhopeu @mingkyungseokie @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @lucyysthings

as always, comments, likes, reblogs asks etc etc etc always greatly appreciated🫶 had a lot of fun w this one hehe

- giselle xx

#charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc scenario #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 #f1 x reader

3K notes · View notes

slvttyplum · 3 months

Note

ummm can i request reader waking up to geto fingering them??? :3

the night wasn’t good for you; you were extra tired, it was hot, and you didn’t even want to take off your blanket because the dark scared you.

finally drifting off, you feel something. suguru was at your side, but this particular feeling felt a little too familiar.

a moan unwillingly slipping out past your lips as you purse your eyes more and squirm around trying to see what it was.

your eyes flicker open, and just when you’re about to see what it was, you feel a kiss on your neck.

suguru grinding into your side as his fingers keep pushing into your clit, another moan coming out.

“do you feel good?” his voice in a soft whisper as one of his finger slowly slides inside you, your leg sliding up.

not fully comprehending what he’s saying, you can only moan and shake your head, a laugh slipping from his lips as he stops kissing your neck and looks at you.

“i missed having you on my fingers.” his words make you clench around his fingers, your throat dry, and the only thing lubricating it is your moans.

your body begins moving on its own against his fingers, and your hand moves to grip his arm as he continues to move faster.

the air gets thicker as your breathing gets faster, and your fingernails dig into his skin as you arch your back.

another finger slipping into your wet cunt, your walls immediately clenching around him from him spreading you out.

your head thrown back and your mouth forming in an “o” shape, your hips grinding into his hand for more pleasure.

his other hand sliding up to your mouth and slowly rubbing his finger over your bottom lip, then slowly inside your mouth.

“be a good girl… suck.” his voice switching from soft to deep, doing as he says, you slowly suck his fingers, sliding your tongue around his two fingers, a sweet taste eluding from them.

your body was jerking from the intense pleasure you’re getting from this; it was a lot, but you felt so good.

“there we go... you feel so good around me.” leaning in, he pleases a kiss on your cheek repeatedly as his fingers get faster, slamming into you.

suguru’s fingers curving up more, causing your legs to prop up so he can get deeper, moans, vibrating on his fingers.

his lower body is continuously grinding into you with the rhythm in which his fingers are moving, a low moan slipping past his lips.

“cum… please cum for me.” he whimpers, grinding into your side more, and your sucking is getting more aggressive.

his fingers curving up more, tapping your sweet spot and sending you over the edge, your knees coming in and tapping each other as you dig your nails into his flesh.

"fuck, fuck fuck!” you scream out, your thighs widening as you get this high from the pleasure and your back clashing with the mattress.

his fingers going the extra mile, slamming into you a few more times before removing his wet fingers.

removing his other fingers and replacing them with the wet ones, you suck them and look into his eyes.

“you’re such a slut."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #jjk geto #jjk suguru #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #geto x you #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x y/n

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venuszn · 4 months

Text

☆ : Open When

Summary / In which Bada writes you letters to read whenever you miss her presence

Cw / Angst, Fluff, Smut, Dom!Bada, Fem!Reader, Phone sex, ummm probably missed some, MDNI

Wc / 5.3K words

Open when you’re sad

“Hi princess,

I’m sorry that you’re feeling this way right now and that I'm not there to hold you and tell you that everything will be okay. But I can and will tell you that with the words in this letter. You know that I love you and I will keep saying it till the words dry up my throat.

I wish nothing but happiness for you but I’m also aware that bad days are inevitable and that sadness is a human emotion, which like happiness, you should be allowed to feel in all its entirety. I know it's hard right now, but allow yourself to feel sad. You’re allowed to cry, you're allowed to scream and maybe even throw something (like a pillow or teddy - don't hurt yourself). You’re feeling down and that's ok, you’re human.

I know I always say that you're perfect (to me you are, you’re literally heaven sent you’re my angel) but to the rest of the cruel world perfection isn’t possible and so you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. I like to remind myself that sadness is an emotion. Its power is not absolute. It will come and it will go making room for other emotions such as relief, happiness, hope . . .

There will always be hope.

You are strong and you can take back control of your emotions. But allow yourself to feel them first, it doesn’t make you weak. It takes a lot of courage to face the raw and uncomfy feelings we have and I know you can do it. Go at your own pace and remember that your feelings are valid and that you are loved.

Especially by me, your loving and maybe a little bit obsessed girlfriend.

Lots of love,

Bada.”

A tear dropped onto the paper. You blinked and quickly wiped your eyes, not realising that your girlfriend's heartfelt expressions had triggered an earthquake of emotions within you. Bada knew that you had a tendency to repress your emotions. She knew that when you were sad you skillfully put on a facade, a mask, and played the ideal role of the happy easy going girlfriend. You didn't want to burden anyone with how you felt. You were used to dealing with it alone and so you always did.

But Bada showed you that it was ok to not always be ok. That you didn’t have to bear it all alone. You weren’t perfect, some days you fell back into old habits and distanced yourself from her as the exhaustion from faking happiness would overwhelm you. But she was always patient and waited for you.

She showed you that you could still be loved even on your bad days.

Sobs thundered in your chest. You gripped the letter as if the words themselves would slip between the cracks of your fingers and drift away into the night. Your face grew hot with tears and you allowed yourself to be. To simply be.

Bada wasn’t here with you right now but you knew her love was.

Open when you miss me

Gentle rays of sun shine through your curtains. It illuminates your skin as it kisses it with its warmth. You sit up and raise a tired hand, attempting to shield your eyes as a loud and unflattering yawn rolls from the back of your mouth. Your hazy eyes drift towards the empty space beside you. If you stare long enough you can still see the outline of her presence, hear the whispers of her slow words thick with sleep as she would pull you closer by the waist and join her lips to yours - the sweetest of good mornings.

But now those mornings were not a reality but a memory.

Mornings like this weren’t foreign to you. It had been a couple months now and you had grown used to waking up alone. You missed Bada and this was the first time you were both spending months apart from each other. You were caught between sadness and pride. Of course you were sad but at the same time you couldn’t help but admire the achievements of your girlfriend. Bada’s popularity had skyrocketed beyond the heavens themselves and many artists and idols were reaching out to her for collaborations and such alike. You had never seen Bada glow the way she did. Joy seemed to radiate from her and your chest could barely contain the swell of your heart as it pumped in pride for her.

That is why you smiled and swallowed the lump in your throat as Bada said she was leaving behind her favourite sweatshirt, “because I know it’s your favourite too”. It is why you insisted on driving Bada to the airport and it is why the both of you held each other a little tighter that day and allowed your lips to linger a second more. Bada knew you were trying to be brave for her but that wasn’t what she wanted.

“I’ll see you real soon. Four months will fly by.” Bada said as she gently rubbed your cheek with her thumb.

“I know it will. Have the best time won’t you ? I mean, you’re touring with an idol. That's amazing.” Your voice betrayed you as a slight quiver slipped through.

Bada’s gaze saddened. “I’ll try. You know I'll miss you right ?”

A sob threatened to rise from your throat and you tried to swallow it once more.

“I’ll miss - I’ll miss you more . . .” You choked out.

Bada wrapped her arms around you and brought you to her chest, your arms locked around her sides and you swore you would need to be pried away from her. Her head rested comfortably on top of yours and she squeezed you gently.

“I’ve left you something.”

You pull back and look up at her, confusion knitted your brows. “What do you mean you’ve left me something ?”

“It’s under the bed in a shoebox. And no, it's not shoes.” She smiled down at you.

When you got back to your shared apartment you searched under the bed and immediately found the shoebox. You scoff lightly with a small smile, not believing that you didn’t notice it earlier.

You remove the top and your breath catches in your throat.

A library of letters sat in two neat rows, filling the four walls of the box. You gently run your fingers over the edge of them, sneaking glimpses of the words written on the envelopes.

‘Open when you’re sad.’

‘Open when you need reassurance.’

‘Open when you want to punch your annoying coworker.’

You choke out a laugh mixed sob and tears threaten to spill. You wondered how you got so lucky to have someone like Bada in your life.

The morning sun had shifted slightly, its rays now painted your room walls a warm golden. Bada’s words stared back at you on the envelope as you traced the curves of her letters with your finger, following the path of ink as it journeyed into words.

‘Open when you miss me.’

And so you did.

“Hello my princess,

I miss you too. Very much. I know you’ll see me on social media smiling and dancing but just know that I'm always thinking of you. I wish I could be there with you right now, to hold you and kiss you. I’m writing this before I leave but I just know that I’ll miss your kisses. Of course I will. Kissing you feels like home and I’ll miss my home. Even now as I’m writing this I’m wishing that I was kissing you. But they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. My heart will probably explode from the overflow of fondness. However, I want to apologise in advance for how busy I might get. But I promise I will do my best to talk to you. I have no idea what to expect but I imagine there will be days where our communication is sparse. But always remember that I still love you and miss you.

Please take care of your health, make sure to eat your meals and go to sleep on time. I need you to be happy and healthy when I get back.

I love you and I am counting down the days till I see my baby again.

Lots of Love,

Bada.”

Open when you’re happy

The chime of the doorbell danced through the air and you perked up.

Your lips stretched into a smile as you bounced toward the front door, almost running. You were expecting this as it had become a weekly routine and truthfully, you were near enough befriending the delivery man who you were now seeing more frequently than some of your friends.

You swiftly swing open the door and your eager eyes meet the familiar smile of the old man but you couldn’t stop your gaze from jumping to the brightly coloured item that sat in his arms.

“Good afternoon to you.” He greeted warmly.

You smiled and returned his warmth, “Good afternoon to you too.”

He chuckled and outstretched the item toward you and you took it from his hold.

“Today's flowers are pink asters.” The man said with enthusiasm.

“They represent love and sensitivity. They're also the emblem of Venus - the goddess of love. Your girlfriend is putting all of us to shame.” The man chuckles and you watch as his crows feet deepen. You remember the way he praised Bada, saying that he has never seen such heartfelt dedication from a person.

Bada had scheduled flower deliveries each Monday because she knew that you loved flowers and also because she knew that you loathed Mondays - the man was slightly speechless. He called it young love and made a comment about how some people go through their entire lives unable to find love and that if you find it with someone - anyone - then that's a blessing you should cherish.

And you truly did. You now sit in front of the vase of flowers and you admire its beauty. If the stars themselves fell to the earth and sprouted seed this is what the result would be - vibrant hues and an explosion of petals. They were truly beautiful and your heart pulsed with love for Bada. She was your happiness.

Your gaze shifted back to the opened letter on the side and you read it once more.

“Hi baby :) Happiness looks beautiful on you.

You’re always beautiful but I love the way you gleam and radiate when you’re happy. I especially love your smile. I feel like everytime you smile a fairy is born. I hope to one day meet one of your many fairies.

But I digress, I’m happy that you’re happy. I wish I could see you and be happy right there with you. But feel free to send me pictures of your smile (many of them) and tell me in detail about what made you happy ! You know I'd love to hear all about it. I hope you continue smiling and I know that there are more happy days ahead for you. There definitely will be - you are an attractor of everything pure and joyful (and of me).

I love you lots my angel,

Bada.”

Open when you’re in the mood

You remember when you first saw those words on the envelope. You remember scoffing at your girlfriend, not taking it seriously. She was oceans apart from you, there’s not really much that she could do when you were feeling needy and missing her touches.

You thought wrong.

You also remember the way your brows twitched in curiosity and how you felt a subtle rise of intrigue within you at the two words written on the paper.

“Ring me.”

Though you never thought that you would find yourself in this position. The position being your legs spread apart, your two fingers stretching out your dripping cunt and Bada - on speaker phone listening to the entire thing.

“Keep touching yourself for me, princess.” Bada breathed through the phone. She had been instructing you on what to do, how fast and how slow, ordering you to not hold back your moans because she ‘wants to hear your pretty sounds’.

“Add a third finger.”

You’re not sure if its because of her words or because of how fucked out you were but you nearly come right then. You let out a shaky breath and slide your free hand down in between your legs, you spread yourself a little more, giving your third finger room to enter. The dull sting mixes with the sensitivity and pleasure and you hesitate.

“It only feels good when you do it.” You whine as you slowly push further, your tight hole sucking your fingers in.

“Imagine that those are my fingers. You like it when I finger fuck you, don’t you ? The way you cry out my name and grip onto me as I pound your hole.”

You grew wetter at Bada’s words.

Your fingers slide in and you begin thrusting in and out. A thin layer of sweat glistened your skin as you lay half naked on the bed with your eyes fluttering up at the ceiling. You did as Bada said. You shut your eyes and imagined that your girlfriend was there - above you with her slender fingers stroking your pussy walls. You imagined her kissing the side of your neck as she usually did, and then slowly making her way down to your chest. You imagined her taking your hardened nipple into her warm mouth, her tongue sliding against it as she licked and tasted your tits. Her free hand would then join, playing with your other mound of flesh as her mouth busied itself with the other. She would start off by teasing your nipple by ghosting over it with her thumb. She would then gently tug at it before rolling it between her fingers. You imagined her hushed words, saying something about how beautiful you were and about how good you were being for her before she would mercilessly thrust her three fingers into your cunt, her thumb teasingly brushing over your swollen clit ever so often.

The tightening of the knot in your stomach pulls you out of your fantasy and a loud moan falls from your lips. Your breaths pick up speed and a chorus of whines and whimpers flow from you as you begin to chase your climax. Your back arches and your fingers move faster, curling up as they rub against the top of your walls.

“Fuck - Fuck, Bada.” You cry out as you feel your legs begin to shake.

Bada lets out a breathless curse and you hear shuffling in the background and then a door shut.

“You coming, princess ? I wanna hear you moan my name.”

You nod your head, forgetting that she can't see you, coherent words fail to leave your mouth. Your body tenses and your walls contract around your fingers. Pleasure rushes through you and for a moment you swear you see stars. Your body trembles and your legs shake as cries and moans for your girlfriend fall from your tongue.

“You’re so hot. Fuck. I wanna see you, princess.” Bada says, voice dripping with want.

You lay breathless, fingers still nested in your aching hole as you slowly guide yourself down from your high with slow thrusts. “But you’re not - you're not in your hotel room.” You breathe out.

“I’m farther away from everyone now.” Bada said as she reassured you. “ I’m in an empty room. It's okay baby . . . Plus, this makes it hotter.”

You let out a light breathy laugh, “You’re such an exhibitionist.”

Bada chuckles, “So are you. Now let me see you, princess.”

You reach for your phone and accept the video call request. Bada emerges onto your screen and your heart flutters. You smile and bite your lip slightly. She was wearing her glasses and you had always had a thing for her in her specs. You gazed at her and the lazy smirk that sat on her pink lips.

“Hi baby.”

“Hey princess.”

Your cheeks grew warm and you looked away for a moment.

“Now don’t get shy on me. We’re just getting started.” Bada says with a slight raise of her brow.

“Prop your phone up against something. I wanna see you properly.”

You obeyed and you positioned your phone on top of the bedside table, angling it toward you as you sat with your knees together on the bed.

Bada drank in the sight of you, she licked her lips and you saw her gaze deepen.

“Fuck, you’re wearing my shirt. You fingered yourself in my clothes ?” Bada said as she leaned into the camera slightly. “You’re so dirty aren't you princess, such a slut for me.”

You nod and fiddle with your fingers in your lap. Your body burned with both desire and slight humiliation.

“Go and get my strap.”

Your breath caught and your eyes widened. “What ?” You say, unsure of if you were now experiencing auditory hallucinations.

“I want you to fuck yourself with my strap. Go get it.” Bada stated coolly.

You now found yourself in another position. That position being your legs spread apart, once again, but now with Bada’s thick strap rubbing against your pussy lips, your wetness coating its length. And Bada sat watching through the camera as she once again instructed you on how she wanted you to touch yourself.

Bada stared at you hungrily with pupils blown.

“Keep rubbing your clit with it. Just like that princess. Don’t stop until you’re dripping and desperate, just how I like you.”

Your mouth hung open as you sang soft moans. You guided Bada’s strap against your clit, now swollen, as you rubbed yourself along the length of it in desperate motions.

“Bada - Bada, fuck.” You whine. “I’m close - gonna come . . .”

Bada’s smirk stretches. “Stop.”

Your eyes snap to the screen and you blink furiously. “Pleas-”

“I said stop, princess. Be a good girl for me, hm ?”

You reluctantly come to a stop, your hips slow its pace and you remove the strap from in between your legs.

“As much as I love seeing you touch yourself in my clothes, I want to see your pretty tits. Take your shirt off.”

You do as she says and pull the shirt over your head, your chest now on full display to Bada’s eager eyes.

Bada lets out a breathless curse as her eyes roam your body. “You’re heavenly.”

Your heart flutters at your girlfriend's words.

“Now spread your legs for me and fuck yourself with my strap.”

You moved closer to the camera and positioned yourself in front of Bada’s waiting gaze. You leaned back on one arm and parted your legs, your aching cunt now on show. You guided her strap along your pussy lips coating it with your juices. You hum slightly and a whimper leaves your lips as you gently push in the tip of the strap.

Your eyes flicker back to the screen and you swear you've never seen Bada’s gaze as intense as it was.

“Just like that. Stretch yourself out good for me.”

You sink onto Bada’s strap and your cunt clenches around it. You begin slow motions of gentle thrusting and then throw your head back as you feel the tip hit a particular spot within you walls - cries falling from your lips.

“Fuck. I wish I was there, baby. Gonna fuck you into the mattress when I get back.”

And you knew that was a promise she intended to keep.

Open when we fight

It had been nearly a week since your last proper conversation with Bada. You were both busy and had been adjusting to the constant changes of time zone differences. It was becoming a little draining for the both of you but the daily little check ups and good morning and night messages cushioned the pain. It was the little things that kept you going all this time but you were beginning to crave a little more attention from your girlfriend.

Bada, on the other hand, was becoming stressed. Rehearsals were tough and the jetlag exhausted her. Simultaneously, Bada was also worried about you. She was aware that the communication between the both of you had dwindled recently and she knew you did your best to work with her schedule but she also knew that deep down you were hurting because of it. Bada was beginning to feel inadequate and she carried the blame.

That is why she regretted it as intensely as she did when those harsh words flew from her mouth that one evening.

“You’re suffocating me. You know how busy I am and honestly right now I need some space.”

Bada’s words were like ice to your ears and you felt the frost of her tone bite and sting you. You shivered, slightly taken aback by her words.

“Oh . . . Okay then. No worries, see you.”

You hang up the phone.

You stared into space for a moment. Numbness spreading over you as you swallow your sorrow.

Your phone vibrates and you force your heavy eyes to look over to it. You see Bada’s contact flash on your screen. You scoff and deny the call before putting your phone on do not disturb.

The moon peers at you through your window and you only hope that she’s gazing at you with empathy. She too was worlds apart from her lover, unable to meet. Tears brim in your eyes and you blink them away.

The sun rises and you soon follow. You turn on your phone and then turn off do not disturb only to find countless missed calls and messages from Bada pleading for your forgiveness. Your heart pangs and you decide to respond.

“I just woke up. Went to bed early last night.” You type and hit send before tossing your phone onto the bed.

You were still a little sad. You felt dejected and you felt unwanted. Perhaps you were a little pushy, but all you wanted was to speak to your girlfriend. You sigh as you stare into the mirror at your deflated reflection. A small box under your bed then catches your attention and you find yourself kneeling to pick it up.

Bada’s letters.

You had gone though nearly half of them by now but you had yet to open this particular one.

“I’m sorry.

I don’t know what we fought about but that doesn’t matter because I apologise for making you upset. I would never intentionally hurt you but sometimes I can be a dummy and I make mistakes. So I'm sorry baby. I hate seeing you upset or angry and especially if I'm the cause. I want to thank you for still staying with me all this time regardless. Everyday I'm still learning and growing and everyday I'm thankful that I get to do that by your side. We are two imperfect people but we make a perfect pair if you ask me. I know sometimes you also make mistakes but I forgive you. I will always forgive you. When we fight we showcase our room for growth as a couple and as individuals. We disagree sometimes but that is normal. There’s nothing wrong with you and nothing wrong with us. I still love you baby. I always will.

Lots of love,

Bada.”

Just as you finish reading your phone vibrates and you look to see Bada's name on the screen.

“Good morning baby. I’m sorry about last night. You’re not suffocating. I'm just really stressed right now but I promise it’s not because of you. It will never be you.” Her message read.

Your lips pouted slightly and you typed back, “I'm sorry too. I know I can be extra clingy sometimes. But please don’t feel pressured to always respond. Take out time for yourself too, it’s okay. I’ll always be here.”

On the other end Bada let out a small breath of relief and finally allowed her body to relax. She read over your words and her heart yearned for you.

Another message pings through and Bada breaks out in the first genuine smile that week.

“Btw your letter was cute. I’ll always love you too.”

Open when it’s our anniversary

The chime of the doorbell rang through the apartment and your brows twitched in puzzlement. You double checked the day - it wasn’t a Monday - so weren't expecting any deliveries. You also were not expecting any visitors. Regardless, you make your way over to open the door.

Before you stood none other than the delivery man. Who boasted the widest of grins as he held out a wonderful arrangement of flowers toward you.

You stand, mouth slightly agape as you take in the beauty of the blossoms before you. The sweet aromas danced through the air.

Today was your anniversary with Bada and you had both planned to video call later that night. You knew Bada was busy and that she was gearing up for the finale of the tour later that week, so you were grateful that she cleared out a few hours of her schedule to spend with you. But you had not expected anything like this.

“Your girlfriend really outdid herself with this one.” He chuckled as you took the bouquet into your arms, its sheer size competed with the top half of your body. You poke your head around the bouquet and you smile back. “It’s our anniversary. I had no idea she scheduled flowers for today - and flowers this big. I’m so sorry you had to carry this.” You say with a meek laugh.

“Nonsense. It's my pleasure.” The old man waves his hand, swatting away your words. “You have grown to become me and my wife's favourite customers - both you and your girlfriend. We’re honoured that she chose our small flower store and made all those orders. So please, it’s not a problem my dear. I hope to see you both around sometime and feel free to stop by, my wife would love to meet the lovely lady that she picks flowers for.”

Your heart warms and you nod your head, “Of course. I’d love to stop by. But I'll see you on Monday won’t I ?”

The man shakes his head, “This is my last delivery dear.”

You frown slightly and you feel your mood dampen. “But why ?”

“Because I’m back.”

That voice.

You step out into the hallway and your head spins to the direction it came from.

Bada Lee.

Bada walked toward you. Your eyes scanned her tall frame, her oversized shirt that draped around her body, her grey baggy sweatpants that hung from her hips and her wide and comforting smile that plastered her face.

That was your girlfriend. And she was home.

You ran towards her and she met you halfway, scooping you and the large bouquet into her arms before spinning you around. You laugh and you cry. Trails of tears fall as happiness overtakes you.

“You’re back ?!” You exclaim as you hastily wipe your face.

Bada gazes down at you with the fondest of eyes. “For now, yes. Happy anniversary baby.”

She leans down to gently press her lips to yours.

The old man chuckles in delight, “Congratulations to the both of you. I expect to see you both at my shop very soon.”

You and Bada grin and you wish him well after agreeing to pay him and his wife a visit.

Your head remains in a daze and you squint your eyes at Bada, unsure of if you were now experiencing visual hallucinations.

Bada laughs as she puts down her suitcase, “What ?”

You fold your arms, “You’re really here ?”

“I am.”

“You said next week.”

“I might have told a little white lie . . .”

You whine and gently smack her arm causing her to laugh even more.

“And all those flowers you’ve been sending . . . and the letters ?” You pout slightly. “I don’t deserve you.”

Bada steps closer and takes your chin between her thumb and index. “You deserve everything and more. There was no way I wasn’t going to see you on our two year anniversary. I planned to be here from the very start.”

You look up at her and you hold her gaze. “You did ?”

Bada hums. “I did. However, I'll be catching a flight back tomorrow but by the end of the week I'll be home for good.”

You nod your head in understanding and Bada smiles down at you before leaning in to bridge the gap between your lips. Your arms rest around her shoulders and hers on your waist, her grip firm as she gently caresses your skin with her thumb. You part your lips and tilt your head, Bada hums against your mouth before slipping her tongue through your lips - deepening the kiss.

Moments pass and you are forced to come up for air. Bada then rests her forehead against yours.

“You read today's letter yet ?” She mutters softly.

You gently shake your head, “Not yet. I was about to but then the doorbell rang.”

Bada smiled and took your hand into hers.

“Perfect.”

Bada now sat beside you on the bed with the letter in hand.

She began to read.

“To my princess, my baby, my best friend and to the love of my life,

Happy Second Anniversary <3

Happy 730 days of us and of our love. These 730 days are just the beginning because I know that we have a lifetime ahead of us. Thank you for staying with me, for being with me despite my shortcomings. Thank you for being my best friend, my confidant and thank you for loving me back.

You truly are an angel walking this earth and I sometimes wonder if heaven misses you. I’m prepared to put up a fight because now that I have you - not even Zeus himself could pry me away from you. Nothing on earth nor in the heavens above could taint the love that I have for you. Know that my heart belongs to you and that I am ready to cross whatever seas that may lie between us.

I’ll see you soon my love.

Bada.”

You were at a loss for words and watched as Bada neatly folded the letter and placed it back into its envelope. She then looked at you and gently took your hand intertwining your fingers.

“I love you so much.” You whisper, afraid that your voice would fail you.

“I love you more my princess.” Bada pulled you closer and then set you on her lap.

You gaze down at her and she peers up at you, her fingers ghost over your thigh, tracing lazy shapes over the fabric covering your skin. Sparks of electricity shoot through you and you lick your lips slightly. Bada’s gaze intensifies. Her hands now slowly creep up your shirt, your warm skin under her fingertips.

“I’ve missed you.” You breathe out, gravity pulling you in.

“I’ve missed you too.” Bada’s hands lingered as they explored the familiar territory that was your curves.

You shudder and your breath picks up.

“Wanna show me how much ?” You say softly.

Bada’s lips stretched into a slight smirk but her eyes overflowed with love.

“Of course baby. I’m gonna take my time with you . . . Missed you so much.”

Bada kept her promise and she took her time with you, exploring the work of art that she swore had no price.

Your body, your soul - you.

Author’s note / Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed <3 Feel free to send me requests of letters that you’d like to see Bada write . . . Totally down to do more of those :3

Tag list / @princhii , @lil-elliesgf , @wiselight , @nimxie , [Open]

#bada lee x reader #bada imagine #bada x reader #bada lee swf #badalee #bada lee #bada lee imagine #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee smut #bada lee fic #holding my breath until I receive a letter from bada where she professes her undying love for me

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undercoverpena · 2 months

Text

4. green smoke

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you wear a date outfit but not specified and the shoes have heels but not mentioned what kind. minor discussion of past canon events incl. drugs. no use of y/n. an: if this as a friends episode this would be called "the one where they talk"

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Friday soon arrives.

It comes hand-in-hand with a tumultuous storm, bringing with it ominous rumbles echoing through your house. The air feels charged with tension, wrung tight, all sense—as if it’s holding its breath while the world around seems to retreat into darkness. Even if the time on your laptop says 14:43.

Your gaze fixates on beads of rain running down the window, all racing one another—like you have been for several minutes. The steady patter provides a rhythmic backdrop to your solitude, interrupted only by the occasional sighs that escape your lips and the soft tapping of your pencil against the notebook—a feeble attempt at pretending you’re concentrating.

Pretend is the optimum word.

Merely putting on a show of focusing on the task at hand. In reality, your eyes keep flicking to your phone—the one lying silent on the counter, eagerly anticipating the next notification that’ll make it illuminate.

Your work, the one thankfully with a deadline of next week, continues to sit ignored—barely considered, never mind plotted. Because it isn’t what fills your mind.

It’s him.

Just thoughts of him—mind populated with vivid memories that refuse to fade, unable to stop lingering on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his infectious laugh. The one which has dug itself a place into the walls of your home, lit it up.

Then, you think of his lips, the ones that are purposeful, all heavenly. The mere thought of them sends a shiver down your spine, a longing present, spreading—

Unloading a delivery and you’re falling on me.

It's difficult not to smile at his message.

Something he effortlessly elicits from you now. Has done so since the very beginning. A thing he continues to do so the more the two of you speak.

It's giddy, almost teenage-like, the way your heart scampers to catch itself as your fingers try to pretend they're not darting to reply.

Excuse me? Rain. Oh, that is such a dad joke. It was. I’m pretty proud of it. Bet it made you smile. I will not confirm or deny. So that means it did. Shut up.

Thumbs swirling over the screen, you roll your lips, toes twitching on the floor as you grin.

So, how big is the candle going to be in the middle of the table? Ummm, appropriately sized for a restaurant? Hmm, I have only gone on dates with inappropriately sized candles. Are you flirting with me when I’m at work? Are you saying that like you don’t flirt with me when I’m at work? In my defence, you choose your own hours. Do you mind me flirting with you? Not even a little bit. Good. Because guess what I’m wearing right now? Hopefully nothing. I’m wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt. Still hot. Get back to work, Butterscotch.

You know it’s not long—a handful of hours until you’ll be across from him.

Likely with your smile hurting your cheeks, eyes unable to stand looking away from him for more than a few minutes. Unable to explain or rationalise how straightforward it is with him, how natural it feels to get swept up in all of this and find yourself wanting to be around him.

Something you try to put to the back of your mind, to not clock-watch, not count down. Doing well at it until you hear your phone buzz and see his name appear on your screen.

The laundry you're putting away ignored, the item dropped from your hand to the floor, before wiping your hands on your thighs, taking a measured breath, then lifting the phone to swipe it.

His voice fills your ear almost immediately. All hello and your name, a can you hear me? following.

And your heart skips a beat—missing a whole thud against your ribs as you stare at the outfit hanging on the closet door.

“I’m really sorry—“

And your heart falls. Descends gradually, like a feather freefalling. Doing so until it has nowhere else to go but sit in the hollow void. Disappointment beating, pulsating.

“—Harold… he had to leave early, his heart was playing up and he said he’d come back. But I can’t make him do that, wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves if he just—"

“—Frankie—“

“—And I’ve tried to move the reservation, rang the restaurant. But, they’re booked up and I really want to take you there—”

“—Frankie?”

You brush the fabric, the hanger holding on to the top of the door with sheer will as you do so between thumb and finger. Half-smiling—even still. Listening to the way he takes a breath, to the way he cares so much.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, swallowing, shoving the dismay down. “I… promise.”

The voice you hear back is soft. So tinged with sadness, and regret, you half-want to call him Butterscotch just to make him laugh. “You sure?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reassure him, comfort him—voice steady as you do so, "We can reschedule. It's not a problem."

A moment of silence follows, with a sense of letdown settling in the air like fog. It sits there, resting, hanging. Because even if you know it’s just a minor adjustment, a twinge of disappointment still seeps in. Not so much a sharp pang, but a lingering weight that makes your shoulders sag, as though everything had deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.

“Baby… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, a smile making its way onto your face despite the circumstances. "There's always next time."

“Not drove you away then?” he half-laughs, one you imagine is a little forced.

“Not even a little bit.”

Sighing, you swear you hear him smile with it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You grin, nothing but light and easy, “Just make sure next time you can show up, that’ll be a good start."

Frankie laughs, it flowing down your ear before it’s joined by a promise that he will and he can call you later, if you like? A thing which sounds like a good idea, even more so when it's followed by the fact he wishes he could stay—talk, but you know. Nodding to no one but yourself as you bid him goodbye, leaning against the wall—hanging up, full of bittersweet.

You let your head fall against it, rolling it there as your eyes flick back up at your clothes, lingering over it.

And an idea appears.

It grows—smothering over sadness before it blooms.

Then, you’re grinning. One almost as large as you do when he makes you giggle. Almost.

You’re thankful the sign still says open when you step out of your car—fingers tugging at fabric, ensuring it sits how it’s supposed to.

Even for a surprise, you wanted to look as picture-perfect as you should have been entering the restaurant. The paper bags catch your leg, noise crinkling against the air as you yank on the handle—entering, being washed in wood chippings, bleach and paint.

For a moment, one stuck between time and space, you look. Glance. Unsure where to find him, until your eyes land on him and find his head lifting at the sound of your entering.

Whatever Frankie had been in his hand dropped, all forgotten. His mouth parting at the sight of you. Taking you in. Sweeping brown, surprised eyes all over you as heat rises up your neck and brushes over your ears.

“I know I’m a little overdressed for buying a hammer, but…”

Mouth falling open, he looks torn between grinning and speaking. “What are you…”

Shrugging, watching his eyes roam up and down the outfit you’d chosen. The one that had been on the hanger for days—one you’d not thought could be replaced by anything else.

“Well,” you begin, smirking, “My date got caught up at work and I’d been really looking forward to seeing him.”

Frankie smiles, hand rubbing along his jaw as he stares.

“But then, someone told me there’s a secret restaurant here. One behind a metal door that says, Staff Only?”

Dropping his hand, and swiping his tongue across his lips—he slowly moves around the register. Coming to join you as you hold the bags up, the heels of your shoes clicking on the shop floor tiles as you meet him halfway.

“I also suspect that you might not have eaten, since you've been alone for most of the day.”

It’s at that moment his stomach roars. It grinds, what you assume is coffee, before groaning inside of him as he claps a hand on his apron.

“The only problem is,” you say, narrowing your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I… I didn’t know what you would like, so I might have bought a ridiculous amount of food.”

Taking a bag, his eyes widen when he opens it. “You’re staying, right? To help me?”

Reaching inside the bag he didn’t take, you pull out a single, battery-powered candle. “It’s a date.”

He gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "I just need to lock up," he says.

You watch with a flutter of excited nervousness as he moves around the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and then securing the door. The lock clicks into place, echoing in the quiet store. He then proceeds to shut off the lights, plunging the store into a soft, inviting darkness lit only by the glow from the streetlights outside.

Turning back to you, he extends a hand.

"Shall we?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth spreading through your fingers.

As you walk together towards the back of the store, a tinge of excitement flutters in the air. The 'Staff Only' sign looms above the door like a secret entrance to a place you shouldn't be, but with a gentle gesture, he ushers you inside.

You don't miss the way his fingers brush your lower back, the heat they ignite up your spine as his chest meets your back, face close to yours. Lingering, eyes sweeping over you.

"Lemme just..." he whispers, elongating it, before he bends to pull you a chair out—one with three wheels, no back—fingers sliding up to brush over your shoulders as you sit down.

“Careful.”

Swallowing, you suppress the effect he's having on you, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’ll try, Morales. Don’t want you to have to fill out the accident book.”

“Harold would murder me.”

Snorting, you watch him join you—taking the candle from your hand, flicking it on and placing it directly in the middle before the two of you begin taking food out. He gazes at bundled packaged burgers, stealing a fry from the bag before it’s laid out over the desk.

“So, as it’s our third date.” His eyes flick to you, mid-bite of his food as you twirl a fry in your fingers. “I get to ask you challenging questions, right?”

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. Grinning. “Alright, let me have it.”

Nudging him with the tip of your shoe he laughs. “Okay. You and Luca’s mom?”

“Ah.”

Grabbing a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “You don’t have to worry.”

“And as everyone in history knows, those words are how people stop worrying.”

Smirking, he turns on the wheely stool, facing you, knees abutting yours. “We haven’t been together since he was born—we… we weren’t even together by the time he reached six months. He… he doesn’t know any different. We have things we say, and truly, she’s a fantastic mom, we have a great co-parenting situation.”

“Okay.”

His fingers land on your knee, dancing over them, light and feathery as he sighs. Heavy. Weighted. It makes you swallow, makes you want to dig your fingers into your leg to stop yourself worrying, thinking—overdramatising whatever it is.

Scratching his head, he rolls his tongue from his cheek to the front of his teeth. “I wasn’t a good person then… a lot of shit had happened—I’d left the service, found myself… haunted, I guess? Me and her, we met, we… seemed good. She seemed good. And then, I…”

Your hand slides over his, one of your fries still in hand as you do. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.”

Nodding, he half smiles.

And then he does.

He tells you about his days in the army—and the sleepless nights when he was back home. The sense of loss he felt without it, the uniform that meant nothing when he joined a regular job. How flying helicopters for people with money who had no cares in the world began to make him hollow, carving a piece inside of him that didn’t fill with laughter at barbecues and trivia nights. He tells you how he’d rambled to someone about the lack of sleep, before he found a little white bag in his locker—an opportunity, a chance to not overthink.

That it had stayed there for days, almost a week until there had been news about someone he had once worked with.

Then he explained how it wasn’t a problem, but it also very much was. How he was lost, drowning—that people reached out, but the lights had been on, but no one was home. How it became a coping mechanism, a small dose to take the ache away—before he learnt he was going to be a dad. Her worries about him making her ignore the signs, much further on than they thought—and then, one month later, how he failed a drug test.

Trace amounts, barely anything, but still plenty.

His license, revoked—paused. His future dwindled, a baby due to arrive, one he’d heard the heartbeat off at the same time as he found himself at the threat of being alone. A second chance dangled, offered—do better, Frank. Don’t be selfish.

“—but, I didn’t change. Don’t change.”

Your heart falls, and descends.

Watching him shake his head, grabbing a handful of fries before stuffing them into his mouth as he chews, and you pick at one from your own box.

“Things were good—Luca, he had ten toes, ten fingers. He was great, happy. It made us being good seem real? But, it lingered, y’know? If work kept me later, there was this distrust, this question. And I couldn’t blame her, didn’t. Never would either. I broke that, I know I did. But…”

“It wasn’t healthy?”

Shrugging, he swallows, before nodding. “Then, I helped a friend, one from my squad. Had to… it was dangerous. I was gone longer than I said—and she worried, panicked. I knew before I left that when I got back I’d likely find my stuff packed—not that I blame her. I know we tried. But, I broke it. But now we’re better… better co-parents than partners, you know?”

Nodding, you chew, rolling the salt on your lips together. A beat passes, ice clanging in the drinks, cartons scratching against the table as the two of you eat.

“That was probably a lot.”

“It’s okay. Are you… are you good now?”

Nodding, he chews another fry. “Clean since Luca was born. Five years, fifty-seven days.”

“Well, I know this might be weird to say, but I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, he chews his cheek, meeting your eyes for the first time since he began sharing. “You’re a bit too good for me, you know that?”

Smirking, you steal one of his fries. “Oh, a hundred per cent. You might have a bunch of followers and good taste in paint colours, but did you know that I can sand down a dresser to the point a prominent Instagram DIYer has told me ‘I did a good job’.”

“Doesn’t sound that trustworthy. Bet he doesn’t know what you call wrenches.”

Pouting, you narrow your eyes as he laughs. “Thank you for telling me.”

Nodding, he rolls his lips. “I had to… ‘cause… are we enacting third date-talk honesty?”

“Of course.”

Half-smiling, he nudges himself closer on the stool. “I really like you.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up at the ceiling, before grabbing his knees and wheeling yourself closer. “I quite like you too.”

Smile spreading, he places his hands on top of yours. “Yeah? Because I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to… run from all of that.”

Smirking, you try to move closer, even if the wheels of both stools try to prevent you. “Did you know, honesty is really, really hot?”

Brows raising, chin lifting, his lips slide further into his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad too.”

Swallowing, his fingers slide in between yours, eyes flicking from one eye to the other. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Well, I’ve seen your house now.”

Nodding, you smile. Feeling it, whatever he’s going to say, ask, think lingering in the silence. His grin widens, a spark igniting in his eyes that sends a rush of warmth through you.

“So, I think it only seems fair you see mine.”

Wiping your hands on your napkin, licking your lips as you cross a leg over the other. “Well, for fair sake I definitely should.”

“Do you want to… now?”

“Tonight?”

Nodding, that same flush of pink rises up his neck, up his jaw.

Smirking, you loosen your hand from his—resting your palm on his cheek, elbow on your knee. “I’d like that.”

The car ride to his should be tense, but it isn't.

Instead, it's filled with soft laughter, teasing comments and shared glances—your fingers twitching, wondering whether a hand on his knee is too soon. Even when everything else feels so normal, natural.

When he pulls up outside his place, anticipation fills the air—a rush of warmth flooding through you, making your fingers clamp together and stare out at the place as he says, this is it.

It’s nice, well-kept—charming, from what you can already tell. Eyes spot chalk drawings on the patio, lit up by the outside lights and a plastic red car close to where he's parked.

“Luca has some good parking,” you smile, pointing to it next to you both. “You learn from him, or?”

Smirking, he undoes his belt. “Maybe, I taught him how to park. I’m very good with heavy transportation.”

You don’t miss the way he emphasises the sentence. Your 'oh' is swallowed by the sound of him opening the door and telling you to wait.

Watching as he moves around the vehicle, his eyes holding yours. Earlier, you'd been thankful that the rain had taken a pause; now you wished it hadn't stopped its lashings that glued clothing to skin, thighs pressing together on the seat before the door beside you opens.

“What a gentleman.”

“Just wanted another chance to chance to check you out, really.”

Swatting him, he takes your hand, his laugh blending with yours as he leads you up to his front door.

If he feels nervous, he doesn’t show it. Finding his keys and slides one into the lock without missing. Opening the door without as much as an awkward shove of the door.

If anything, it’s effortless. It not even squeaking or catching as he pushes it open.

“It’s not a lot…” he begins.

But he couldn’t be more wrong.

It’s cosy and warm. Exuding an unmistakable homeliness that immediately comforts you. Dark woods, off-whites, and splashes of orange, caramel, and greens intertwine harmoniously, creating a space that feels both freshly decorated and deeply loved. A balance you assume exists because of him being the one to bring it all together, knowing from the videos you've seen how talented he is.

As you glance around, you begin to see the traces of the Frankie you’ve been getting to know. Photographs of him at the beach, with his son, with friends and more with Luca at varying ages.

Then, there are the plants. An assorted mix of them, some big that you remember from photos, some greener than others—some tall and in plants with animal faces like raccoons and beavers, others in decorative pots placed on shelves.

As you step in further, you spot furniture you recognise from videos—even noting the stacked pile of books from a photo he’d shared recently and a record player on a side table.

“C’mon, let me show you around.”

He leads you, hand in yours, showing you his well-equipped kitchen, and dining space. Occasionally, he points things out, like the markings on a wall he’s using to measure how tall Luca gets and the scuff marks from dragging the dining table in after varnishing it. Before finally, the two of you are outside the half-open door to his bedroom.

Frankie giving you a wink, bodies almost flush.

“That where the magic happens?”

“Not usually…”

"Maybe that's cause people haven't been saying the right magic words." Shrugging, you lick your lower lip, staring at the beading on the door. "I should tell you, I've heard I'm quite good at magic words..."

You let it linger, sit. Before you turn on your heel, fingers brushing over a table as you head back in the direction of his living room.

He follows, a step or two behind, letting you and your eyes capture all the personal touches before you feel fingers on your wrist, tugging you back, body flush to his.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, you find your throat dry—eyes flicking to his mouth.

“Go take a seat, I’ll bring us a drink.”

It’s soft, the nod you do as he slips his hand from your waist. You move, almost on auto-pilot, to sit down on his sofa, running your fingers over a cushion—one stitched with greens, golds and oranges.

When he reappears, you look up at him, noticing the hint of nerves in his gaze as you plaster on a reassuring smile as he places them down on the coffee table.

Slowly, you reach out, squeezing his hand, "Your home is lovely, Frankie."

He chuckles, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks as he joins sitting down. "Yeah?"

Nodding, you press your knee against his. “So.”

“So.”

With a smirk, you draw a measured breath. “I believe... I want to kiss you now.”

Swallowing, his gaze flickers to your lips, lingering, before snapping back up to your eyes. Warmth spreads over your cheeks, neck and ears. “I believe you should, Rainy.”

A response there, nestled between teeth and tongue, is muffled as his lips meet yours—for the first time in several days.

an: as a warning, the next chapter will include smut. if you wish to skip the smut, you can miss the chapter as there will be no other scenes. the following chapter will pick up the next morning.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy

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pastel-peach-writes · 5 months

Note

Can you CatVi x Reader where Reader touched VI’s jacket and it got into a mess of paint that the Reader was painting and Vi and Cait came home and saw the painting but saw VI’s jacket. But Vi was shocked and didn’t say anything but was angry.

Comin' right up!

Don't Cry Over Spilled Paint | CaitVi x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Messy. That was the word to describe you and your relationship with paint. After fair warnings to wash your hands after you paint, you get yourself into some trouble that might bite you in the butt later on.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Not Proofread, 3000+ words, No Use of Y/n, Angry Vi, Fluff Towards The End, Caitlyn Giggles (shh)

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

(A/N): UMMM totally didn't see where Anon said Vi doesn't say anything ab being upset. She totally did and IM SO SORRY ANON 😭😭

You weren't sure how it happened. One minute you were painting a beautiful piece that showed Zaun in its light and then the next you were frantically scrubbing paint off of Vi's red jacket.

Maybe this could've been avoided if you just listened to Caitlyn.

"Make sure you wash your hands after you paint," she would always say to you. "You touch everything after you paint and you get paint everywhere."

You should've listened to her, you really should've, but she wasn’t here to warn you. So, technically, this was on her!

"Come on, come on," you muttered as you scrubbed a white rag on the jacket. Luckily, the paint spot was small. The color of the paint a navy blue and it was right next to some forever dirt patches in the jacket so the spot wasn't noticeable.

With the jacket and rag underneath running water, you declared the jacket done. The paint had already dried and there was no going back now. Besides, would Vi really notice that minuscule spot? You didn't think so.

A relieved sigh escaped your mouth as you shut off the tap. Wringing the rag out, you noticed two palm-sized white spots on the jacket. You set the rag down, going to inspect the jacket but before the jacket even touched your hands, your heart dropped to your feet.

The palms of your hands were white from priming your next canvas. The same white on the jacket matched the white on your hands.

Maybe it's just a coincidence.

You leaned your head further into the sink, too terrified to even touch the jacket. Through the white primer on the jacket, some lines and cracks matched the pattern of a human's palms. Okay, if your heart hadn't sunk before, it was now. Oh, and now you were trembling with fear.

You turned the tap on again. The water splashed and sprouted upwards from hitting Vi's jacket. You watched as the soaked jacket continued to take more water but the white spots not diminishing.

You turned the tap to hot.

Still the same reaction. Jacket soaks up water, paint remains untouched.

You should've noticed that the paint on your hands wasn't transferring to the faucet handles; a sign of dried hand paint.

"We're home!" Caitlyn's voice rang throughout the home.

Shit.

You thought you had more time. You thought you could take her jacket to the dry cleaners and get someone to professionally get the paint out yet leave all the dirt and grime so Vi wouldn't notice the difference.

You thought you had time to research how to get primer out of fabric and search up which primer you used to see if it was water-soluble. Was there even such a thing as a water-soluble primer? What's the point of a primer if it disappears with water?? FUCK.

Wooden creaks and deep steps rattled the floor above you. Caitlyn and Vi were settling themselves in the kitchen. This meant you had some time to hide the jacket in your studio before Vi noticed her missing jacket.

Quickly, you grabbed a plastic bag and shoved her jacket inside. You needed to keep the jacket wet. The wetter the jacket, the easier the paint comes out. Well, that was your theory at least. Tying the bag into knots you'll have to cut out later, you shoved the bag into a box of battered art supplies.

Don't ask why you have a large cardboard box filled with dead/empty art supplies. You don't know yourself.

"Muffin!" Vi shouted from the studio's entrance. "You comin' up or what?"

"Yeah!" your voice trembled. "Just trying to wash some paint off my hands."

Hearing the slight tremble in your voice, Vi took it upon herself to travel down into the basement-- oh, sorry, into your art studio -- to see what was the matter.

However, once she reached the halfway point of the staircase, you came running up.

"Whoa," Vi laughed. She placed her hands on your shoulders to prevent the two of you from colliding. "Where's the fire?"

You chuckled, sheepish and breathless. "Oh, uh. I thought you guys needed me and I didn't want you to wait much longer."

"Oh, well, that's cute of you, Muffin, but we're alright." Vi ruffled your hair. "I just wanted to make sure you ate your food before it gets cold."

"Aw, you got me food?" You put your hands on her shoulders and pushed her up the stairs. There was some resistance, naturally, but Vi let you push her up anyway.

"Well, yeah we know you've been--"

"Caitlyn!" you greeted, locking eyes with her. The girl was mid-bite in a pancake, the circle good dangling from her mouth and eyes wide. Vi laughed at her and the girl quickly took the pancake from her mouth with red cheeks.

"H-Hi!" she returned the greeting. She stood up from the counter and cleaned her hands off with a napkin. "Um, we got you food. Your favorite breakfast meal."

"Oh, great!" You removed your hands from Vi's body and made a beeline into the kitchen. The food was already plated for you with your favorite beverage on the side. You ate contently, trying not to let your worry show through facial expressions.

What was your plan now? Do you tell her? Do you let that jacket mildew and mold and hope she forgets about it? No, there's not way she could forget about it. She wears that jacket every damn day.

"Muffin," Vi said, pulling you out of your thoughts. Caitlyn and Vi were sitting at the counter across from you. When did they get there? You had no clue. "Why are your palms white? Like, whiter than Caitlyn white?"

You stifled a laugh while Caitlyn swatted her arm. "I was painting. That's why I was in the studio."

"Yeah, I know," Vi said through laughter. Caitlyn's swat had no effect on her. "But I thought you were washing your hands? Your hands were wet when you were pushing me up the-- wait," Violet deadpanned. "I don't have paint on me, do I?"

Frantic, the woman searched her arms for paint. The woman was wearing nothing but a plain white tank and some random pants. You would totally be distracted by her buff arms if your heart wasn't slowly finding its place in your chest.

Caitlyn hummed, eating a piece of pancake while she searched Vi's body. "No, you look fine which tells me someone forgot to wash their hands after they were done painting again." You received a scolding look from the English lady.

You shrugged with a dry chuckle. "Don't worry. I didn't get paint on anything."

Safe to say, your girlfriends did not believe you. Immediately springing up from their chairs, they raced to your studio despite your pleas.

They couldn't find any new marks of paint on the walls or support pillars. In fact, when they were done searching, they stumbled upon your Zaun painting and praised you for how well you captured the city.

"Wow, Muffin, you did really good with this," Vi complimented. Her fingers reached out towards the canvas, but you quickly slapped her hand away.

"Don't touch! It's still wet."

Vi snickered but obeyed. She stepped back but continued to admire your recent artwork.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, wasn't fully convinced you didn't touch anything with your painted hands. She strode towards the sink to see if there were any new paint marks. Instead of finding new paint, she found that the sink was still shiny from recent usage.

She hummed to herself. Vi said your hands were wet, though no paint transferred to her arms. So, your hands weren't wet with paint but with water. Caitlyn's gaze flickered over to your damp washcloth. Recently wrung up with a new paint mark.

The mark was a faded blue. The blue matched the blues you used in your painting, but the mark wasn't big enough for Caitlyn to assume you were cleaning up your lines with a towel.

You spilled paint on something, but on what?

To the left of her, Caitlyn spotted the box of art supplies. A hoarder, her partner was, keeping empty paint tubes, dead brushes, and other things you use for your craft.

What Caitlyn spotted was a new lump in the box. Instead of your dead supplies lying relatively flat, there was something disturbing the colorful sea, something hiding.

"Darling," Caitlyn called out for you with a finger on her chin and her other arm supporting the elbow. "Did you run out of a lot of paint while making that piece? Your graveyard of art supplies seemed to have grown."

Both yours and Vi's gaze snapped from the painting and to Caitlyn.

The three of you sat in silence, yet the tension in the air rose.

Your gaze flickered from the box, to Vi, to the box, to Caitlyn, and then back to the box.

Before anyone could say anything, you dashed. You didn't get far, matter of fact, you got nowhere before Vi wrapped her arms around your middle to hold you back.

Caitlyn went digging through the box, detirmined. Nothing could get past her. Not even her partner who loves to paint but is too messy for their own good.

"Aha!" Caitlyn triumphed as she held up the tied plastic bag. She poked the bag, a smile growing on her face. "Interesting. It's still wet and slimy inside. A recent hiding, must I say."

"Cait, don't!" you plead, squirming and wiggling under Vi's grip. The pinkette tightened her grasp around you.

"You're not going anywhere," her voice rasped through gritted teeth. You were being a challenge with all your squirms, but Vi had no problem throwing you over her shoulder if you became too much. Besides, she was having too much fun watching you beg and plead for Caitlyn not to open the bag.

"I'm sorry, but I have to." Caitlyn's long and slender fingers toyed with the knot. She used her fingernails to pull up a piece of the thin plastic before slipping her finger inside to loosen the knot completely.

"Caitlyn, I'm telling you, do not open that bag."

Opened, she did.

The girl barely took a gander before she gasped at the bag's containment. "You're right," she said through a trembling and quiet voice. "I do not need to open this bag. This bag must remain closed."

"What?" Vi exclaimed, letting go of you. "Oh, come on! Show me what's in the bag! It isn't fair you two know what it is and I don't."

Vi marched over to Caitlyn, but the blue-haired girl held the bag over her head. "No, Violet, I mean it. We need to respect our partner's boundaries and not open this bag."

You were frozen in fear. Vi was too close to the bag for your own good. You were thankful for Caitlyn's understanding of keeping the bag away from Vi, but that didn't mean you wont be hearing a lesson in your near future.

"Bull. Shit." Vi then brought her fingers to Caitlyn's armpit and tickled her. The bluenette immediately caved with giggles. Her crinkled eyes and cute smile would usually be an adorable sight to see, but right now, the sight made you seethe with anger.

Really, Cait? Couldn't hold on for just a bit longer?

Caitlyn brought her arm down, folding it like a chicken wing to stop Vi from tickling her. "Stop!" she giggled.

Vi grinned, snatching the back from her hand. "Anything for you, princess." The pinkette opened the bag and stared at its contents.

Caitlyn slid her way over to you, a small frown on her face as she played with her hands. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep it away from her for long," she whispered.

You sighed, watching Vi's face crinkle and express many, yet unreadable, emotions. "It's fine," you whispered back. "Just promise you'll attend my funeral."

Finally, after what seemed like 30 agonizing minutes, Vi spoke. "Is this my jacket?"

You gulped. "What do you want it to be?"

Vi called you by your name, her gaze lasering on you. Her eyes were darkened with anger, her lips upturned into a scowl. "Don't play cute with me," she called you by your name again. "Is this my jacket?"

Your heart was back in your chest again, but this time, it felt like it wanted to escape. A deep lump lodged and settled itself in your throat, making it difficult to say the words your brain was telling you to say.

Your chalky palms now wet from sweat and your body buzzing with anxiety. You couldn't say anything. You wanted to, but you couldn't.

You only watched the ticking time bomb on Vi's face as her expression went from upset to vexed. Her face was red with anger, the hands gripping the bag turned into fists, and her chest rose and fell with each staggered breath.

Vi took her jacket out of the bag. She scoffed at its drenched state and brought it over to the sick. She wrung it out like you did once before with a rag. Her hands were covering where the spots were.

Much like yourself, Caitlyn couldn't say a word. The two of you watched her like deers stuck in headlights. What could one say to de-escalate the situation? Caitlyn felt that if she tried to calm Vi down, she would be brushed off and told not to speak.

Vi studied the jacket from each angle. She studied the front, she studied the back. She studied the inside and then studied the pockets. It wasn't until she draped the jacket over a forearm she saw the two obnoxious spots of primer.

"I can't believe this," Vi said quietly, only a true sign of her deep anger. "Time and time again, we tell you to wash your hands and not touch anything. It was cute the first couple of times, annoying the next, and now I'm pissed off."

This had to be worse than any lecture Caitlyn would've given you.

"This is my jacket. My favorite jacket." Vi's back was turned to you, but now she's facing you dead on. Honest, you preferred her back to you. Then you wouldn't have to see the hurt in her eyes and she wouldn't have to see the sadness in yours.

A voice in Vi's head told her to stop talking but the anger she was feeling mimicked the anger she felt when Vander died. She had no control over what she was going to say, she could feel it. She wanted to stop talking to prevent further damage, but her emotions took her whole.

"I stole this from some rando after I beat his ass. I've had this for around 2 years now and until you came along, it was unscathed."

"Vi..." Caitlyn warned.,

"Sure, there were some dirt and sweat stains here and there, but that's what gave this jacket character. It's what made this jacket more like me because even though it was dirty, grimy, and stinky, it preserved through all the shit it went through," Vi continued.

You weren't sure if you were crying. Your eyes stung like you were, but the rest of your body shut down. Vi's words were like piercing sharp arrows flying through the wind and your body was the target. You've mastered the heart of tuning out lengthy and emotional lectures thanks to your parents, but all that skill was no match for Vi's words.

"All it took. All it took was your careless thinking and some fucking paint to ruin the one thing that felt like me. Thanks for that." Vi threw the jacket into the sink and went upstairs.

She didn't bother to look you or Caitlyn in the eye.

It's been a few days and you and Vi haven't talked. The first few days you didn't talk because the wounds were still fresh but as the silence grew and the wounds began to heal, the problem was finding the right words to say.

You've tried to apologize for the jacket multiple times, but she wouldn't hear it. Caitlyn even took the jacket to the cleaners to get the stains out, but Vi didn't want to see it.

Every time Vi got a glimpse of you or the jacket hanging in the closet, she knew she had to apologize to you. She wanted to apologize to you, but she didn't know how. Caitlyn tried to help countless of times, but no avail.

Sleeping arrangements were worse.

Vi slept on the couch the first few nights and then after some coaxing by Caitlyn, Vi slept on the furtherest side of the bed. Typically she liked to be in the middle or you would be in the middle, but as of late, she slept on the left and you slept on the right.

Poor Caitlyn had to sleep in the middle. She hated the middle. She didn't like how warm the two of you were in the night, making her burn up. She didn't like how if she wanted to read or work in bed, she couldn't turn the nightstand lamp on. The middle was awful. She wanted her right side back.

The night of the week anniversary of the argument, you and Vi stumbled into the bedroom to find Caitlyn sitting on the edge of the bed and glaring at the two of you.

"I am not sleeping in the middle any longer," she declared. "You two are too warm, I don't have enough arm or leg room, and I can't read which means I'm restless every time I sleep!" Caitlyn stood from the bed, arms crossed over her body. "And to be fair, I've grown tired of your childish argument. You two are grown adults. Talk your shit out so we can sleep in our rightful places."

You and Vi glanced at each other.

You already said your apology. What else could you say? It wasn't like you could offer her a meal, it was too late to eat and you definitely weren't saying another apology,

Vi sighed, looking away first. She shrugged, going to the left side of the bed. Caitlyn stopped her by pushing a hand to her chest. "Nuh-uh," Caitlyn eyed her. She pointed towards your direction with her brows furrowed. Vi groaned and walked back over to you.

"Oh, well that's one way to make a person feel warm and fuzzy inside," you scoffed. Vi rolled her eyes.

"Oh, please, you mean like ruining someone's jacket?"

"It wasn't on purpose!" you exclaimed. "You know it wasn't on purpose. I understand your being upset for my clumsiness and lack of awareness when it comes to wet paint, but you can't still be mad at me for something I got fixed."'

"You didn't even fix it," Vi rolled her eyes again. "One of Caitlyn's fancy buddies did."

"And who do you think paid for that?" you scoffed at her. "It might've been a buddy of hers but I still had to pay full price for a Piltover dry cleaning service. I don't believe in waving money and prices over people's faces, but since you want to go there, that cost me two months' worth of payments and as a starving artist, that's a lot of money to recover."

Vi only shrugged as her mouth converted into some sort of frown. She didn't know you had to pay 1,200 dollars to get her jacket fixed. She could've been more grateful and showed you some gratitude for getting her jacket cleaned, but you were the one who ruined it anyway. It was your job to get the jacket cleaned.

Caitlyn sighed. "Vi, stop being stubborn and say 'thank you' and an apology."

"Why should I have to say an apology?" Vi knew why, though she didn't want to admit it aloud.

"Why?" Caitlyn scoffed. "Vi, I knew you were thick-headed but I never thought it to be this extreme." Shaking her head, Caitlyn climbed into bed. "Fine then. Don't apologize and don't patch things up. I'm tired of being the referee."

Something stirred inside Vi. It wasn't anger or contentment, but instead a sadness. Not only is she unable to patch things up with you, but now she's dragged Caitlyn into this mess. Caitlyn was the peacemaker because Vi, herself, was unable to make peace with anything.

Caitlyn didn't deserve this. You didn't either.

If Vi didn't nip this in the bud, she was going to lose the both of you. She was going to lose the only people who saw her for her and loved her regardless of her faults.

"I'm sorry," the words stumbled out of Vi like a baby bird trying to fly for the first time, "to the both of you."

Caitlyn peered up at her with a book in her hand. You, who hasn't said or done anything since the last time you spoke, met her gaze.

"Muffin, I'm sorry for lashing out on you and not being mature enough to handle this situation properly. You trying to hide the bag is on me because I should've created a space where you can come to me about anything. Even if you think it may upset me."

"It's okay--"

"It's not okay. You don't have to forgive me or say some line like, 'Oh, everyone gets angry sometimes'. No. It's not okay and I apologize for my behavior. I'm working on it." Vi put a hesitant hand on your shoulder. When you allowed her to, she smiled and pressed a kiss ot your temple.

"And, Cupcake," Vi addressed Caitlyn. Caitlyn hummed in response. "I'm sorry for roping you into this and not realizing how miserable you were while Muffin and I fought."

"Yeah," you chimed. "I'm sorry about that too. You didn't deserve any of this."

A soft smile rested upon Caitlyn's lips. She motioned the two of you over, willingly wanting to be in the middle so she could hug you both. You and Vi gathered by her side, wrapping an arm around her. "I love you too, lugs," Caitlyn said behind a laugh. "I hope we can all learn from this."

"Yeah," you said behind a grin. "I learned that Caitlyn is severely ticklish and will cave immediately after a few seconds of tickling."

"What?" Caitlyn blushed. "No, that was not the lesson here," she nervously chuckled, her blush already spreading to her ears.

Vi laughed along with you. "Yeah, actually. I accidentally found that out like a month or two ago and only used it the day of the fiasco."

You gasped. "You found out and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, I didn't know how!" Vi laughed.

"Now, hang on a minute," Caitlyn said trying to catch your attention.

"Well, now I feel left out." "Who's to say you can't tickle her now?"

"Hold on!" Caitlyn pleaded but it was too late. Your hands and fingers found the soft skin on her stomach and laughs roared out of her. Vi joined the activity, tickling some of her neck.

Even after a week of drama, the love between the three of you remained. Plus, you guys even got some giggles out of it.

WC: 3,877

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