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wayfaringhoax · 1 year

Text

Riddles

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Female Reader

Click here for part two

Word count: 12k+

Summary: You and Frankie become ‘friends with benefits’ until you evolve into something more. But when you can’t seem to communicate your needs, you find yourselves in uncharted territory.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact

Explicit sexual content (p in v, female receiving oral, dirty talk, semi-public sex, sexting, sending nude photos), references to sex scattered throughout, swearing, unhealthy relationships, making each other jealous, communication issues, discussions of low self-esteem, conflicted emotions, angst, possessive! Frankie, reader wears Frankie’s t-shirt, consumption of alcohol, references to religion and drugs (purely for metaphorical purposes), public discussions of sex, reader is described as having a vagina and breasts.

This is a reader insert fic, but there are a few plot details that lean towards an OFC. Reader's mentioned as having two parents, letting their hair 'down' after work, and one of their friends is given a name. If any of these details make you uncomfortable, please refrain from reading.

New to the community, so this hasn’t been beta’d.

Been working on this for a few weeks, please let me know if you enjoy it!

Get coffee, meeting, reply to emails, meeting, lunch, marketing proposal, planning period, meeting.

As you opened your planner that morning, you were greeted by your responsibilities for the day. However, each damn meeting brought you one step closer to the end of the work day, and subsequently one step closer to leaving your office and heading to Benny’s Fight Night.

Due to your busy schedule, you hadn’t been able to make it to one of his fights for a while so you often resorted to wishing him luck via a text message. Having the chance to actually be there and support him in person was therefore a big deal for you. Plus, you’d also have the chance to grill the eldest Miller brother, having set him up on a date with your friend a few weeks ago, only to have her tell you it didn’t work out. You knew Will would be prepared for you to press him, and being as stoic as he was, you anticipated that he wouldn’t reveal much.

How many times had they reprimanded you for attempting to play matchmaker?

You couldn’t help it. It was only natural for you to want the best for them, you’d shared so much of your life with them, and they’d been by your side when it counted.

Of course, you were only a kid when you first met the Miller brothers. When your parents had befriended theirs, you were quick to latch on to them, glad to have two little friends to annoy. You often spent holidays chasing them around their home, and they enjoyed bringing their LEGO to yours, much to the dismay of your poor mother, who wasn’t prepared for how much mess they’d bring.

Sure, shit got real when you got older.

After you graduated from college, you threw yourself into work. You successfully climbed up the ranks, securing enough money to live comfortably. Though you admit, you had to sacrifice a lot in the process, regularly denying yourself the chance to be happy - to be loved - in the name of prioritising your career.

Every time you wake up in the middle of the night, yearning for the comfort of another body, you’re reminded of the loneliness that sometimes plagues you.

Benny and Will weren’t strangers to the feeling either. You’d been around to see the darkness that followed them home from deployment. The darkness that tarnished some of their ability to accept love. The same darkness that made them hold on to you that little bit tighter, now very much acquainted with the feeling of loss.

You would never be able to understand what it was like for them. Never be able to fully comprehend the extent of their trauma. Some part of you knew that for Benny and Will, relationships weren’t as simple as they used to be.

But that didn’t stop you from trying to set them up. You appreciated that your attempts were futile, they were just gestures of good faith, really. They communicated that you cared. That you wanted them to be happy - and they saw that for what it was: their friend looking out for them.

On the other hand, Benny and Will rarely tried to set you up on dates, understanding that the guys they knew wouldn’t be the right fit for you.

Despite this, they made sure to constantly remind you that you weren’t getting laid.

An issue you were sure they’d raise again, at some point this evening.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t looking.

Respectfully, you’d found most of the boys’ friends attractive, and perhaps, there was one man from their Delta Force squad, in particular, who’d caught your eye.

A man with a serious attachment to his baseball cap.

A man who seems burdened by his affliction, shouldering the weight of it all by himself.

A man who was just so gorgeous, yet often chose to play it safe, hanging back when in the presence of the other boys.

Yes, Francisco Morales. Or Frankie, as the boys called him.

You had looked at Frankie. Many times. He’d definitely caused you to lose your train of thought more than once, having been mesmerised by his features; strong yet with a particular softness.

Whilst you acknowledged your attraction to this man, you got the sense that he wasn’t available.

Benny had never mentioned a wife or a girlfriend when he spoke about Frankie, but you still felt as though there was some kind of invisible wall up, preventing you from getting any closer.

Besides, you were going to support Benny tonight, not ogle his friend. You could keep it under control.

Or at least you tried, yet the way Frankie let out a soft chuckle as Benny teased you about becoming a crazy cat lady, was testing your patience.

Now, you were avoiding his gaze, afraid of having to confront your attraction to the man across the locker room. This was proving to be quite easy, as Benny’s enquiry into your (lack of a) sex life had you staring up at the ceiling in embarrassment, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

“C’mon, I’m only looking out for you here. You gotta break the dry spell soon, else it’ll become even harder to get back out there.”

Benny continues his onslaught, deciding to raise the point that if he didn’t fight for a while, he’d simply have no skill when he got back in the ring.

Frustrated, you roll your eyes at his comparison before telling him, “That’s unfair, Benny.”

Santiago chooses this moment to weigh in, reassuring you, “Bonita, you could have any guy you wanted, huh? What’s stopping you?”, and before you have the chance to speak, Benny jumps in on your behalf.

“That’s what I keep telling her, but she keeps making up all these issues. Worrying too much.”

“Well these issues are real concerns for me. I don’t want a relationship right now, but one-night stands aren’t for me either. There’s too many unknowns with hookups. Do you know how many married guys take their rings off just so they can take girls home for a night?”, you tell Benny incredulously, trying to communicate the extent of your concern.

Benny senses your ire, beginning to back off slightly, yet not before proposing, “Why don’t you just get a fuck buddy? Then you can get laid all you want. Problem solved.”

Sure, the prospect was very appealing to you. Someone you could count on to give you orgasms and not have to worry about the strings attached?

You’d sign yourself up right now.

The problem was, where would you find such a man? You shuddered at the thought of returning to the dating apps, having had enough interesting encounters on there to put you off using them again.

Turns out Benny had his own solution to that problem, choosing this moment to turn his attention to his friend who was currently leaning against the lockers, arms folded against his chest. It was almost as though Frankie could sense what was coming next, as he retreated further back into himself, looking down at the floor in a futile attempt to avoid being targeted by his younger friend.

“Hey, Fish is right there. He’s been hard up for god knows how long now. Why don’t you scratch each other’s backs, huh?”

Right now, he was cursing himself for having one too many beers that night at Santi's house, when he’d opened up to the guys about his sexual frustration.

“Jesus Christ”, groans Frankie, his eyes looking at Benny disapprovingly.

Turns out you two did have something in common, as you both looked as though you could kill Benny with your stares. The younger Miller, however, was sporting a grin that would rival the Cheshire Cat’s, thoroughly pleased with himself.

With the attention span of an excitable puppy, Benny was quick to move on. You guess it had something to do with the way Will was looking at him, the subtle tilt of his head gesturing to Benny that he needed to get his head back in the game.

But that didn’t stop you from wanting to die of embarrassment.

Sure, Benny had a fight to focus on, but you had to survive a couple more hours in Frankie’s presence.

You pushed the strap of your bag further up your shoulder, hoping that having something to hold on to would quell the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. Straightening your posture, you hazard a glance over at where Frankie’s stood, only to realise he’s not there.

Pushing open the double doors, you exit the locker room and spot Frankie, way ahead of you, and his steps are somewhat urgent as he catches up to Santi.

Shrugging it off, you find your seat and wait for the fight to commence.

****

He’s struggling.

Frankie’s still reeling from Benny’s comment. He knows the only reason Benny said that was to rile you up, and he knows he shouldn’t still be thinking about it now. But he just can’t get the way you looked tonight out of his head.

He grabs himself a beer and settles onto his couch, before allowing images of you to flood his head; the late-night news report swiftly forgotten.

He imagines your hair, slightly tousled after a long day at work. It was extremely sexy, to him; the image of you letting your hair down as you leave the office. It signified you letting loose, and he could only imagine what it would be like to have you lose control around him. God, he’d give anything to run his hands through it as you looked up at him with those eyes.

Fuck, you were gorgeous.

Frankie’s got it bad for you. Has done for quite some time now. Ever since he was introduced to you at Benny’s birthday party last year, you had taken over all of his fantasies. Being around you consumed all of his energy, as he often fought hard enough to play it cool whenever you spoke to him; always worrying he’d scare you off with his dark wit.

And for Benny to joke that he had a chance with you? Well, that was cruel.

He managed to make an escape from the locker room before you noticed, latching onto Pope in an attempt to recompose himself.

You were far too good for him.

He had baggage; struggles he was still working through.

You, on the other hand, were stable. With a successful career, a solid group of friends and a pretty house at the end of the block, you intimidated him.

Frankie often wondered how you had spent so much of your adult life around the Millers, seen the damage that had been done to them, and yet you still had a certain innocence about you. It was like you had seen first-hand just how unforgiving the universe could be, but you still saw purpose beyond the pain.

Yep, he needed to stay away from you.

Deciding to push his demons aside for the moment, Frankie casts his mind back to the times he’d tried, and clearly failed, to put the moves on you.

There had been the brush of his hand on your waist as you walked by him in Will’s kitchen to get another beer. And the time you fell asleep on Benny’s sofa, he had shuffled closer, allowing your head to rest ever so slightly in his lap. Frankie also recalls each time he’d driven you home from the bar, only driving away when he saw you head inside. As you sat in his passenger seat, Frankie came to the conclusion that your presence was downright intoxicating. Therefore, he always volunteered to be the designated driver in the hopes he could drink up more of you.

It was getting late. Late enough that he could put all this down to being some kind of a fever dream.

Frankie’s about to head up to bed, when his phone lights up with a text message.

A text message from you.

Yeah, this was definitely feeling like a surreal experience.

He decides to bite the bullet and glances down at your message.

Hey, Frankie. Just wanna say sorry about before. We all know Benny loves to tease, but I hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable. Hopefully see you soon! x

Frankie’s not quite sure what you have to apologise for, and frankly, his attention was elsewhere; on the last four words of your text. God, he hoped to see you again.

He sends his reply swiftly.

Hey, you don’t need to be sorry. I’ve definitely had worse thrown at me by the boys. Don’t worry about it. Hope you enjoyed the fight?

Frankie knows he’s pushing his luck, but he adds that little question mark hoping you’d take the bait to talk to him for a little longer.

You reply almost instantaneously, much to Frankie’s delight.

Yeah, it was great! Once I stopped wanting to kill Benny. Until then I was kinda rooting for the other guy. Promise you won’t tell him?

Can’t promise anything, Cariño, came Frankie’s response.

Your humour almost seemed like flirting, and Frankie would be a fool not to try, so after hitting send, he relaxes back into the couch whilst awaiting your response.

Huh. Knew I couldn’t trust a man with the name Francisco.

Fuck. Frankie was immediately consumed by visions of you - saying his name.

Imagining how his name would sound coming from those perfect lips of yours caused something to stir deep down in his gut.

Get it together, Frankie. Get it together.

He found it a little harder to type his next words.

Not many men you can trust these days. But you deserve to be with one who takes good care of you.

He hadn’t intended to get so deep so quickly, but the thought of you being hurt in the past caused an unpleasant feeling to grow in his chest. You were so beautiful, so good. You had your whole life ahead of you. Whichever asshole had broken your trust in the past didn’t deserve to be breathing right now, Frankie was certain.

You take a little longer to reply, causing Frankie to doubt himself for a moment before his phone lights up again.

Thanks, Frankie. I feel like I really needed to hear that. You deserve to be loved, too.

The sincerity of your words almost knocked the wind right out of him. Pleasantly surprised at the turn his evening took, Frankie longed to draw more of those confessions from you.

Pope’s right, you know. You could have any guy you wanted, Bonita.

The Frankie who hadn’t gotten anywhere with you before was not expecting the response you gave.

Any guy, huh?

And before he has time to process your insinuation, you send another text.

Even you?

Oh, he wasn’t prepared for you to say that. So understandably, his response is delayed.

Shit, he needs to tread carefully here, he thinks, as he eventually composes his next few words.

Cariño, you need to be careful what you say to me. I don’t do well with riddles.

On edge, Frankie’s composure is wavering. He’s definitely not prepared when he spots an incoming call from you yet he doesn’t hesitate to pick up.

“Hi…I, uh…I don’t even know what I’m doing Frankie.”, your words are soon followed by a soft, yet nervous, laugh.

“Do you wanna come over?”

Frankie swears he hears the breath leave his lungs, before all but moaning out, “Yeah.”

“Be there in 15.”

****

Of all the things you thought you’d be doing at 2 am on a Friday night, giving Frankie directions to your house wouldn’t have been your first guess.

What were you thinking? You became a woman possessed. The dark timbre of his voice had caused a warm, fuzzy feeling to grow in your tummy, and before you knew it, you had invited him over for a late-night booty call.

You keep your hands busy, clearing up some of the mess in your bedroom when the realisation hits you. You were going to have sex with Frankie.

Is this really happening?

The doorbell rings and you soon realise that - yes - this does seem to be happening, and it’s happening right now.

Like the cat about to get its cream, you slink to the door to let him in. You’re hoping your face doesn’t betray your eagerness as you greet Frankie with a smile.

He takes a moment to assess your features, apprehensive that you may have changed your mind whilst he was driving over. Finding only a hint of shyness in your otherwise confident persona, he knows he’s made the right call. Frankie needs to see you move first. He’s not going to enter your apartment until he knows you want him in there.

Luckily for him, you turn your body to the side slightly, allowing him to see further into your apartment. You take a step back; it’s an invitation that needs no words - it simply says, chase me. See what you’ll find.

And he does. But not before looking away from you and rolling his eyes ever so slightly. You don’t know if he’s amused or frustrated, but you know you’ve got him right where you need him when he crosses your welcome mat.

His eyes return to you, then, and he gives you an assured nod. It’s Frankie’s way of asking you what your next move is. After all, he’s on your turf right now.

Desperate to break the silence, you tell him, “Thanks for coming, I know it’s late.”. Choosing that moment to head to your bedroom, you lead the way. Hoping. Wanting. Praying he’ll follow you.

Frankie follows. He follows you blindly - like a disciple on a mission - trusting that wherever he’ll end up, it will be worth it.

When he reaches your doorway, he’s greeted by a sight so divine, he’s forced to rethink his stance as an agnostic.

You’re kneeling on the bed, stretching over to switch on the light, when he admires the way your back is arched like a feline wanting to play. He sees your mischief. And, as your shoulders dip low, he becomes hung up on the view of your ass in this position. He definitely wants to play, too.

The tension gets thicker and thicker as Frankie advances forward. He wants to test the waters; see what you do next. But he also wants to dive in headfirst and lap up your sweetness like a man starved. Frankie is a man starved, and he’s losing resolve with every passing second in your presence.

Of course, he’s delighted when you turn to face him again. You kneel on the bed, right in front of him this time, sitting back on your legs with your hands behind your back. You push your chest forward and sit up tall in a way that almost short-circuits Frankie’s brain. You look so submissive; preening and proud to put your body on display for him. So eager to learn, to please him.

He knows you’re toying with him. You look so innocent sitting like that, but Frankie also knows you’re playing naughty.

He wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Your moxie had his cock aching in his pants.

Cautiously, Frankie rakes his eyes over your body, trying to figure out your next move. The soft glow of light in the room gives you an advantage, however, and you manage to catch him off guard.

He’s too focused on the way you bite your bottom lip to notice your hands on his belt buckle.

Frankie thinks you’ll unbuckle it, yet you surprise him again as you use it to pull his body flush to yours. You’re on the bed and he’s stood up, and you adore the way he’s making you feel so small and pliant right now.

Sporting a mischievous grin of his own now, Frankie moves his lips to your neck.

“Don’t thank me yet, baby. Not until you’re cumming all over my tongue.”

How’s a girl supposed to respond to that?

By some miracle, you manage to stay upright on the bed, and you decide you need to regain control of the situation before Franke dirty-talks you to death.

“Francisco…”, you purr devilishly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Frankie lets out a sinful groan; with just enough impatience to let you know he’s yours. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be right now than hanging on to every word you say. He can tell you’re being bratty. He loves it. Loves the way you’re taunting him, waiting for the moment he snaps and fucks you how you need to be fucked.

You repeat Frankie’s earlier words to you. “So…I could have any guy I wanted, huh? You really think so?”

Frankie thinks your smile looks a little bashful, for a second, before he notices the way you’re running your tongue across your bottom lip as you toy with the neck of his t-shirt. There’s a glint of something in your eyes. Your smile. That tells him he’s clueless as to the game you’re playing tonight, yet you’re definitely playing him.

And, well, Frankie’s down for the ride. At this point, he’d promise you the world just to get a taste of the heaven between your thighs.

Refocusing, he decides that’s what he needs to do.

“Cariño… so needy. You got my attention. All of it. No need to play up.”, says Frankie in a heady whisper.

You realise, then, that you may have underestimated the man in front of you.

But you definitely aren’t prepared for what he says next.

“On your back, baby. Panties off. Let’s see if you’re still an impatient little brat after you get your pussy eaten.”

Unable to form words, you get to the task at hand, dragging your lacy panties down your legs. You swear you can feel your skin throbbing as your hands skim your thighs. There’s nothing he could ask of you right now that would be too much, you decide, as you settle onto your back.

He’s still fully clothed, and it’s almost like he senses your concern as he suddenly begins to undress. Starting with his t-shirt, he moves with urgency; afraid he’ll miss something if he takes his eye off you for a second. His hands reach for his belt, and you’re trying your best not to drool at the way he looks right now. Hair ruffled from your touch, chest heaving in anticipation of the pleasure you’re teasing of, and eyes glossy and wide. You’re simply mesmerised by the way this man looks when he’s affected. You’ve only ever seen him composed, playing it cool. You’ve never witnessed Frankie lose it, but you’re hoping that’s subject to change. Soon.

“Frankie…”, you beg. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby.”

Despite the way your impatience amuses Frankie, he decides he can’t wait any longer and dives down, using his hands to pry your legs open.

He nips the inside of your thigh, just far enough from where you need him to have you arching your back already; like a creature in heat.

You’re dying to express that you disapprove of his teasing, but you figure you should probably be a good girl considering he’s about to take care of you.

However, Frankie’s not done. His kisses trail higher, and as he reaches your knee, he places kisses there too, as he huffs out a demand.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and give me all those pretty moans of yours. Take what I give you. Be grateful.” The way he emphasises those final two words tells you he’s not messing around, and you’re ashamed of the way you moan at the authority in his voice.

“Yes, baby. I’ll try to be good…. for you.”, you say.

“Try, huh?”, is his response, as he reaches for a pillow, tapping your hip as a signal for you to lift them up. He places the pillow underneath your hips, and you’re ready to melt as he uses his thumb to rub firm circles into the spot just beneath your right breast. He applies a good amount of pressure, and all you can think about is how completely at his mercy you are right now; squirming underneath him in desperation.

Frankie finally uses that tongue of his. But it’s not where you need it…yet.

He draws your nipple into his mouth, sporting a smug grin as he does so. You want to scream. You can feel just how puffy and swollen your pussy is from the lack of attention it's receiving. As you feel it clench around nothing, you buck up against him whilst he continues to tease you. He’s sucking the peak into his mouth, drawing his tongue around in torturously slow circles, before releasing it with an audible pop. Frankie moves to continue his ministrations with your other breast, and in your petulance, you make the mistake of fighting him.

You hook your left leg around the back of his, trying to position your aching centre against the rough denim of his jeans; desperate for some friction.

But Frankie had been expecting you to challenge him. He’s seen your spark when you’d both been out with the other guys, it was one of the things that drew him to you in the first place. He recalls how you’d light up when you became competitive, you’d find ways to provoke your opponent yet you were able to mask it well. You’d get all giggly and cute, playing it off like you just got a bit over excited, and Santi, or whatever poor schmuck had gone up against you, would give in to you. Often letting you win.

Well, Frankie wasn’t giving in that easily.

His hand shoots out to hold your left thigh open, whilst he uses his leg to pin down the other one; keeping you splayed out just how he wanted. You’re taken aback by his strength and you can’t deny it makes your pussy even needier. You need him, and your frustration has made you bold enough to tell him.

“Frankie, baby.”, you whine. “Need your mouth on it. On my pussy.”

He lets out a dark chuckle at that. And he decides to punish your brattiness with silence. You’re easy to read, to him, and he knows you’re liking the way he’s running his mouth whilst in your bed. But you’re reaching for too much, and he’s got to show some resistance for both of your sakes.

Of course, Frankie would give you anything, but he’s not sure what your intentions were for inviting him into your bed. He assumes you’re after a no-strings-attached arrangement, and he’s gonna need to keep you wanting more if he’s to keep you.

Pushing the thought aside for now, he focuses on his next move: giving you what you need.

After what feels like a century, Frankie finally dips his head down to where you’re dripping for him. He’s sure he’s never seen a pussy so sweet and so responsive. He’s not even touched you there and he can see you clenching around nothing.

His thick fingers part your folds and the way his breath ghosts over you has you crying out to him.

“Ngghhh…fuck. Need it.”, you draw out in a frustrated giggle, and at this moment, Frankie thinks - no he knows - that you’ve ruined all other women for him. You sound so sexy, like a little vixen, but at the same time, there’s a sweetness about you that’s humbling.

Frankie decides he needs to reassure you. “Shhhh, Cariño. I’ve got you. You’ll get what you need.”

And you do get what you need, as Frankie forces your legs open even wider before licking a thick stripe all the way from your fluttering hole to your throbbing clit with his tongue - and the noise you make is untamed.

He takes his time, opening you up on his tongue. He knows you need his fingers inside but he’s not sure you deserve it just yet.

Frankie admires the way your pretty pussy is shy at first - like you - as he uses soft kitten licks to loosen you up. Your juices taste heavenly, and he laps up every ounce that flows from the core of you. Eventually, you relax into his mouth and your moans become more desperate. You need more and you communicate this by pulling Frankie in even deeper, your hands tight in his hair.

“Jesus Christ”, he groans. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

“Fingers, Frankie. I need your fingers.”, you plead, hoping he’ll take pity on you.

And he does, by some miracle, pressing two inside you and immediately curling them up. You’re soon ready for another, and he adds a third, causing you to pout at him as your orgasm grows closer. The way you’re trying your best to ride his fingers, yet also sink further back into the bed like a pillow princess, is endearing to Frankie, as he can’t help but watch how you take him. Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. Underneath him. He needs you to come on his fingers and his tongue and he decides he can’t wait much longer.

“There you go, pretty girl. You’ve got something to clench down on. Something to cum on.”, says Frankie, and his words have your eyes rolling back. He’s got a dirty mouth and it’s doing all the right things to you.

He moves his mouth back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Applying the perfect amount of pressure, he’s got you whining out his name as you stretch your arms above your head, gripping the pillow you find there to anchor you - otherwise, you’re sure you’ll float away.

It doesn’t take Frankie much longer to push you to the edge, and he gets a little rougher, much to your delight. You’re suddenly thankful for the pillow you’re grabbing onto, as his hands grip both of your ass cheeks, pulling your cunt up to his mouth and there’s nowhere for you to run. His grip is unrelenting; all you can do is lie there and take it as his tongue lashes against your clit. The absence of his fingers leaves you feeling empty, though you’re not complaining, as the way he’s clutching your hips allows him to really wreck you with his mouth. And what a mouth that man has.

You’re writhing on the bed, your orgasm so close that your body’s going crazy; arching and stretching as it tries to hit that spot to send you over the edge. It comes as no surprise, however, that Frankie’s words finish you off.

“That’s it, baby. Know you need to cum. Need it so bad you’re whimpering for it.”

“Come on now, give it to me. I know you can. Cum and I’ll give you my fingers to ride it out on.”, he says, and you cum. Hard.

“Frankie. Oh my god, Frankie”, you moan out like a madwoman and Frankie plunges his fingers back into your pussy as you cum all over his face.

You can’t help but chase every wave of your high, and you push your cunt down on his fingers like you can’t get enough of what he’s giving you. Somehow, you’re able to remember what Frankie told you before, and you begin to chant “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” as you ride out your orgasm.

There’s a cheeky smile playing on your lips and Frankie lets out his own throaty chuckle at your sass. And that’s when it hits him.

One time isn’t enough.

He can’t give you up just yet.

****

The two of you soon get into a rhythm.

You alternate between your place and his, spending most nights together each week. It’s after a few weeks of this routine that you realise: you’ve got yourself a ‘fuck buddy’ after all.

But you wouldn’t dream of telling Benny. Or Will. Or Santi. You weren’t ready to burst the bubble and face reality yet. You were perfectly happy indulging in each other’s bodies, sheltered from the pressures of the outside world.

The sex is incredible. You know it, and Frankie most definitely knows it too.

You’ve come to know Frankie’s body so intimately, it sends a shiver down your spine just from thinking about it. You know what makes him tick. What makes him abandon his resolve and cum for you. You know how to draw particular sounds from him; his moans, his whimpers, his shouts, even. You had become a Frankie connoisseur in what seemed like no time.

Actually, it had only been a few weeks, yet things seemed to be moving at pace.

Having been friends before all this began, neither of you was inclined to kick the other person out after you were done rolling around in the sheets. So, naturally, then came the lingering.

You both had taken to lingering a little while longer after the post-coital high faded.

One time, you had hopped in the shower, and when you were done, you found Frankie on the phone to your local pizzeria. You hadn’t even questioned how he knew your order, putting it down to the fact you were friends before this. Still, it caused an unfamiliar feeling to stir in your chest, and some small part of you didn’t hate the gesture.

You start showering together, too.

The first time it happened, you were still giggling over something Frankie had said. You’d riled him up and he’d taken you on, finding it way too easy to laugh with you. You’d been poking fun at him after he’d shared quite an embarrassing story from his days in service and he had decided to take a shower to escape your teasing. However, you didn’t want to let the moment go, just yet - so you followed him into the bathroom.

He had just stepped under the spray of water when he heard your girlish giggle getting louder. Frankie tried his hardest to steel himself, but your happiness was infectious and he couldn’t help but be affected, dropping his head forward with a content smile as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. And since then, this became a frequent part of your routine.

On several occasions, you slept over at Frankie’s place and he drove you to work the next day.

You struggled with this. You weren’t going to lie. The thought of one of your colleagues spotting you, and the gossip that would ensue, concerned you. But you brushed it off each time.

After all, it meant that Frankie would take you home as well - and that came with its own benefits.

You’d gotten into the habit of getting him all worked up on those days he was due to pick you up, deciding it was fun to have him show up wrecked and so hard for you. Sometimes he drove a little faster, gripped your thigh a little tighter, and braked a little harder as he rushed to get the two of you to someplace private. Whilst other times he’d take to finding a discreet place to park his car.

Yeah, those were the days you’d texted him something filthy.

You figured out quite early that you were both into dirty talk, but you weren’t expecting it to escalate in the way it did.

An incident occurred at the Millers’ BBQ, where everyone in the neighbourhood appeared to be out in full force. Despite you and Frankie pledging to behave yourselves, you couldn’t help but sneak off upstairs when the moment presented itself. You had to remind yourself that Benny had probably done the same, if not much worse, in your own bathroom as you let Frankie sit you up on the counter; his broad frame crowding you against the mirror and your heels digging into his back. He had come to love when you’d communicate how much you needed him by sinking your stilettos into him like a vice. It was a kind of foreplay and he was very much here for it.

It was at that moment when he said it, as he had you spread out on the counter in your friend’s bathroom, fucking you good.

You could’ve blamed it on the slight buzz of alcohol running through his veins. Or the fact you had been fucking each other a lot. The latter was more rational, you realised, yet you didn’t want to dwell on how you two got to this point. The anxiety and regret would creep back in, and you were having way too much to let yourself ruin it by overthinking.

“Fuck…Cariño. Feels so good. You like that, huh?”, he said.

You’d mewled out a “Yeah”, knowing Frankie needed to hear the praise, needed you to use your words.

What followed then, was a veiled threat to your dynamic. “Yeah…”, he groaned out. “You like it, huh? Letting me fuck you like this tight little pussy is mine.”

Frankie loved the way you whined at that, and he was perfectly content to watch you go wild as you took his cock like a champion, but you were getting too loud, so he covered your mouth with his; swallowing your cries of pleasure.

You should’ve noticed then that things were changing between the two of you, but you were too far gone at the time to pay it the attention it needed.

However, Frankie had been paying close attention to you. Specifically, you in his t-shirts, wearing only your panties and pottering around his place like you belonged there.

You were blissfully unaware of how much this particular sight drove him crazy, but each time you wore one, Frankie died a little inside. He was overcome with the need to possess you. To make you his girl, have everyone know you warmed his bed.

This feeling also reared its head whenever you called him baby.

He’d never been one to jump to conclusions and he was definitely not one to overestimate a woman’s feelings towards him. But, against all odds, and because this was you, Frankie found himself desperately clinging to the pet name. He latched onto the idea that, maybe, he was your man and there was nobody else. Of course, Frankie knew what he signed up for. But he could still imagine what it would be like if things were different.

But, afraid it would scare you off, Frankie subdued these urges every time. He’d often shut down when it all got to be too much for him to contemplate, rushing to another room where he’d make himself look busy. Unfortunately, you interpreted his struggle as him being distant. Closed-off. Emotionally unavailable. And in your eyes, this was the reason why you couldn’t let yourself fall for this man.

Despite the doubts you harboured, neither of you was prepared to stop.

The pace at which things were evolving terrified you, if you were being honest. It was as though you were heading towards a cliff edge, but you had taken the scenic route.

The views were breathtaking, so you went along for the ride; paying no mind to where you were going.

You hated being unable to control the situation and part of you wanted to turn it around and go back to when you were just friends. Back then, you didn’t owe him anything. You could control the version of yourself you presented to him. But in this arrangement, Frankie was able to catch you off guard, sometimes. When he looked at you like you hung the moon, you felt as though you could fall into him with no parachute - give him more. And that scared you.

Frankie was scared, too.

In fact, he’s worried.

You’re currently enjoying a night out with your girlfriends whilst he’s home alone with his anxiety.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’s itching to hear from you. You’re having fun and you don’t need him, but he can’t help but keep glancing at his phone, thinking of texting you. Truthfully, Frankie’s afraid he’ll fade into your background. Every second you spend without him - untethered - is a chance for you to find something better and leave him behind.

He wants to be missed. Needs you to miss him.

However, Frankie’s not prepared to get this deep in a text message to you, so he settles for something a bit lighter.

Releasing a strained sigh, he decides to bite the bullet and so begins to type out a message.

Meanwhile, in the club, you’re nursing your third margarita of the evening when the text comes through.

Luckily, you’d agreed to watch the booth whilst your friends went to the bar for more drinks, meaning you were able to take a quick peek at your phone, away from prying eyes.

You hated the way you doted on his every word, yet still, you ran your eyes over the text a few more times than necessary.

Hope you’re having fun. You know there’s a space in my bed if you want to crash here later.

Slightly buzzed from the cocktails you’d had so far, you aren’t sure whether this new sensation you’re feeling is down to the alcohol, or something else entirely.

Being your usual flirtatious self, your instinct is to tease Frankie a little.

Your bed? Benny usually lets me crash with him after a girls night. Why should it be your bed, Francisco? X

It’s true. Benny did always offer you a place to stay at the end of the night, but it wasn’t like that. Yet Frankie doesn’t need to know that Benny always takes the couch, letting you sleep like a baby in privacy. Besides, you think it’s fun to rile him up. After all, you’re not sure how far he’ll go, to earn your company tonight.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and you’re tapping your nails against the back of your phone, thankful that the bar service is slow tonight, delaying your friends’ return.

Fuck…is what comes to mind when Frankie reads your message. He’s driven wild by the thought of you in another man’s bed, even if it’s his friend who he knows has only ever been platonic with you. He’s not proud of his jealousy, as he knows what he signed up for. But he can’t help himself - he needs to give you a reason to end the night in his bed. He needs something that will reassure him: he’s not losing you. Thinking on his feet, despite having spent a solid ten minutes figuring out what to say, he replies.

Come on, baby. You know I can give you what you need tonight. Not sure Benny’s going to cut it.

Kicking himself as he reads over his words, he knows he needs to give you more, so he sends another.

You think I can’t see through your games, Cariño. When you wake up needy in the middle of the night, it’s my cock you’ll be coming on.

Oh. He’s playing dirty, you realise. You grab your drink and take a generous taste, needing something to cool you down desperately.

Is he jealous? Your mind is racing with the possibilities of what this could mean for your relationship.

Panic swirls in your stomach, letting you know that you may be heading into uncharted territory here. And to make matters worse, a glance to your left alerts you to the fact your friends are on their way back to the table.

You intended to reply with something equally as dirty as what he’d been sending you, yet as you spot your friends getting closer, you freak out and lock your phone, hoping they’re tipsy enough to gloss over the way you’re breathing a little harsher, right now.

You couldn’t deny it, Frankie’s way with words had you feeling hot. Heat pools between your thighs as you dwell on the delicious implications of ending the night in his bed, but you remind yourself that you need to appear unaffected or else you’ll be subject to interrogation.

It didn’t work, judging by Cami’s expression, and you take a moment to prepare yourself for the questions. Yet, there’s a look of real understanding on your friend’s face, like she senses your inner turmoil and feels for you. She assumes you’re tearing yourself apart over something, or someone, and she’s not sure that a crowded club is the right place to bring it up. Deciding to buy you some time, Cami suggests you accompany her to the bathroom.

Shooting her a look of gratitude, you let her lead you into a cubicle, before she turns to face you whilst leaning back against the door.

You stare up at her from where you’re perched on the toilet, and you know she’s waiting for you to fill her in.

After a few seconds, you succumb.

“I think I’m in too deep. Shit, Cami. Things are changing, and I don’t know if I like it.”

She doesn’t need you to elaborate. She knows you’re referring to a guy, and from the sounds of it, she can assume it’s casual. Well, supposed to be casual. The way you’re frantically chewing on your lip suggests otherwise.

Always in your corner, yet still firm enough to call you out when it’s needed, Cami’s been by your side long enough to tell when a man’s made a serious impression on you. Deciding it’s time to be firm, she weighs in on the situation.

“Being comfortable has never been enough for you. Change can be good. I know you know that, babe.”, she tells you.

“Who is he?”

You figure there’s no point in delaying the inevitable, so you reveal that it’s “A friend of Benny and Will. Uh…Frankie, the pilot.”

It’s hard to miss the proud smirk that Cami gives you. “Well-played.”, she says, chuckling slightly. “And that’s who you were sexting whilst we were at the bar, right?”

You nod, feeling less overwhelmed after opening up to her.

“Are you planning on showing me, then? I can’t help you blow his mind if you don’t let me see the texts.”, she adds smugly. Instantly putting you at ease.

You don’t need to ask her how she knew you were sexting Frankie, you’re just grateful that she’s a girls’ girl through and through, and you welcome her expertise in the matter.

Cami’s about to suggest that you send him a flirty picture, with an even flirtier caption, until you scroll further down the conversation and you notice two new messages from the man in question.

It turns out that whilst you were stewing over your lover’s salacious messages, Frankie had gone through the motions, ten times over. He thought he’d pushed you too far. Pushed you away with his jealousy.

He let himself simmer in his frustration before concluding that your lack of a response signified rejection. Frankie knew he’d shown his hand too soon. He’d fallen at your feet like all the other men, acting like a golden retriever in the way he fought for your attention.

But still, your rejection hurt. It hurt enough for him to become defensive, trying to regain some of the control he’d forfeited to you. He shouldn’t have said what he said, but he let his emotions get the better of him.

You can’t quite believe what you’re reading, and even Cami appears to be shocked at the words staring back at you.

I get it. You don’t owe me anything, huh?

And after he hadn’t heard from you for fifteen minutes, he sent another text.

You should stay at Benny’s tonight. Wherever you choose to go, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of options.

All you see is red. All you feel is the unmistakable tinge of betrayal. You hadn’t expected Frankie to jump to conclusions, and you definitely hadn’t expected your Frankie - who was always so sweet and respectful - to degrade you like this.

Some part of your brain is able to register Cami’s words and you hear her cursing Frankie with some very colourful language. You’re left feeling blindsided, unable to process his sudden resentment towards you, but nonetheless, you can’t allow yourself to get hung up on it, not when you were surrounded by such remarkable friends.

You switch your phone off, determined to salvage the rest of your night, before letting Cami drag you to the dancefloor for some much needed release.

It’s no surprise, then, when Frankie’s 3 am apology text fails to come through.

****

Frankie becomes an expert at jumping to conclusions when it comes to you.

After you didn’t reply to his apology, and subsequently screened all of his calls, Frankie didn’t know what else he could do.

He couldn’t reach you and you hadn’t made an effort to contact him. Hell, he knew he’d fucked up; he shouldn’t have spoken to you in the way he did, but he’d tried to make amends and yet you didn’t seem willing to hear him out.

Frankie doesn’t see you for a while. Eight days, to be exact.

He knows you’re alright, thank god, as he hears from Will that you’d been offered a promotion at work and that he’d taken you out to dinner to celebrate.

And yet, it doesn’t get easier, he comes to accept, and he finds himself wanting to call you on multiple occasions, and he almost does, but something always stops him in his tracks.

Unable to stop replaying your words over in his head, Frankie’s overthought and overanalysed until the point of exhaustion. You were both to blame, considering neither of you had been willing to speak about your relationship. Expectations, boundaries and outcomes had all been forgotten. You’d gotten swept up in the pleasure and failed to address these crucial concerns, and now you were both reaping what you had sewed.

It was supposed to be casual. It was supposed to be just sex.

That’s what Frankie told himself when Benny revealed that he had set him up on a blind date with a mutual friend.

Neither of you had told Benny, or Will and Santi for that matter, about the two of you and Frankie couldn’t have declined the invitation without arousing suspicion from the youngest of the group. He didn’t know where he stood with you, but he wasn’t going to drop you in it with the boys. He was way too protective of you to let that happen.

So, begrudgingly, Frankie agreed to the date.

The first you heard of the date was through Instagram, and Frankie and Imelda were well into their second drink of the evening by the time you’d found out.

Turns out, Benny had crashed it around forty-five minutes in, having gotten a text from his friend revealing he wasn’t ‘feeling it’. Taking his wingman duties seriously, Benny wasn’t prepared to let Frankie give in just yet, so had shown up in an attempt to encourage him, and to salvage what was left of the night. Benny had brought a girl friend - whom you both had met whilst at college - hoping the double date vibes would put Frankie at ease, and as she had taken to posting on her story, you were able to poke your nose in.

It wasn’t spying, and you weren’t jealous. But when Stacey posted a picture of the group, you couldn’t help but fixate on the way Frankie had his arm around his date, leaning into her ear, and it looked as though she’d caught them during an intimate moment.

Due to the angle at which the photo had been taken, you couldn’t tell whether Frankie’s lips were just hovering over her ear, or whether they were pressed tight against her skin. His baseball cap cleverly hid the majority of his face from view, but you couldn’t deny what was plain to see. And it drove you mad. Though, you knew your anger wasn’t justified.

Preparing for the worst, you conclude that Frankie’s ready to move on from you.

You wish you could put your phone aside and let it be. You wish you didn’t care. You wish that the thought of Frankie touching another woman didn’t make you want to die, and you wish you could stop yourself from doing what you were planning to do next.

There’s a fire in your eyes and you realise that, perhaps, you are jealous, though you don’t waste time dwelling on it. If you were going to keep Frankie’s interest, you needed to do something that would throw him off balance and you needed to do it soon. And you knew just what would do the trick.

You practically run to the bedroom, pulling out one of Frankie’s old army t-shirts that you’d snagged from his place. Getting comfy on your bed, you slip the shirt up your skin until it exposes enough skin to drive your man wild. There was no doubt about it. Frankie adored your breasts, and he also adored the way you loved to tease. You are hoping that this sexy little underboob shot would make him forget all about his date. No disrespect to her, as any woman would be crazy to turn down a date with Francisco Morales, and you feel bad - honestly, you really do. But the anxiety in your chest is pulling you towards the action. Your body’s screaming at you to do something, like it senses that it’s about to lose Frankie’s touch, for good.

You angle your phone just right, so the camera focuses on the way your breasts peek out from under his t-shirt. Whilst you make sure to get your face in the shot, too, as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth and widen your eyes; looking all cute and innocent as you look up at the camera positioned above you. You know you’re anything but innocent right now, but you’re anticipating that Frankie will play right into your trap. As you have it on good authority that the man loves how you play coy, only to whine pathetically when he finally stretches you out with his cock. And by good authority, you’re referring to the way he grips your hips like your body gives him oxygen, or the way his big hands cup the back of your neck, fingers skimming over the side of your throat in a way that says, you’re staying right where I’ve got you.

Throwing caution to the wind, you press send on the photo and you make sure to add a fitting caption.

Your girl’s feeling a little lonely. Lucky she’s got your shirt to play in. Would be a shame for you to miss out, tonight. x

And you’ve got him.

Hook, line and sinker; Frankie’s ready to come crawling back to you like a dog.

When he sees your name light up on his phone, notifying him that you’d sent him a photo, he needs to get somewhere private. And fast.

He gives Imelda, as well as the other couple, some lame excuse about needing to get his jacket from the truck - just in case they decide to go somewhere with outdoor seating later on - and before he even reaches for his keys, he’s got his phone out ready. Somehow, he manages to hold off on opening your message, wanting to give you his full attention from the comfort of his driver’s seat. And he’s glad he did, as he pulls up the text and is greeted with what could only be described as a treat. Your eyes. Those lips. Your tits in… wait. Is that his shirt? Fuck, he doesn’t know where to look. His eyes rapidly move from each focal point in a frenzy to soak up everything you’d given him. You’d bestowed upon him a gift, and he needed to treasure it. Besides, he hadn’t heard from you in a while and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to touch you, or even look at you, in this way again.

And then, he casts his eyes down to the text that follows.

Your girl’s feeling a little lonely. Lucky she’s got your shirt to play in. Would be a shame for you to miss out, tonight. x

He takes a minute to process your words, but he’s unable to move past your girl and your shirt. Did you want him dead? Surely, that was your goal in pushing those exact buttons of his. You’d seen his possessiveness, and until now, Frankie was certain it had pushed you away; overwhelmed you. Were you now encouraging it?

Not wanting to miss his chance, Frankie recomposes himself, just enough for him to be able to send a semi-coherent reply. He also texted Benny, asking him to apologise to Imelda on his behalf and tell her he had to head home, as he wasn’t feeling well. Home wasn’t on the cards tonight, however, as he geared up to head to your place.

Don’t play too hard without me, baby. On my way over now.

Somewhere on the drive over to yours, Frankie finds himself able to reflect on your relationship.

Relationship. That word felt foreign on his tongue, but he didn’t hate it, he realised, as he allowed himself to fantasise about a version of you two where you dated, held hands, and openly expressed your affection in front of your friends.

You’d never given him any indication that you wanted more. Until tonight.

Frankie’s aware that you’ve given him a crumb, and he’s already dreaming about the whole damn thing, but he can’t help himself from pushing forward.

His attraction, and his appreciation for you had grown, and he often found himself doting on the way you held your coffee in the morning like it was precious cargo, just as much as he doted on the way you went all cock-dumb in his bed after he’d worn you out for hours and hours. He’d begun to notice the little things that made you, you. And he knew he could fall in love with you. It would be so easy.

Frankie considers how he’s probably ruined it for himself, already. He spoke to you in a derogatory way, that night you were out with the girls, and you’d somehow found out he’d been on a date with another woman. He knows that, on paper, the date isn’t something he should feel guilty for, as you two weren’t exclusive. But you were still involved and he has to admit he hasn't handled things in the best way.

As he turns onto your street, he concludes that he wants you.

Frankie wants to be with you, and he’s willing to have you in whatever capacity you’re prepared to offer him. If you’re not ready. If you can’t give him what he needs, like the self-sabotaging martyr, he’s willing to take whatever he can get if it means he doesn’t have to give this feeling up.

Then he’s at your door, trying his hardest to stop the tapping of his foot, which would surely give him away.

You appear from behind it, and he’s a fool not to notice the tears staining your cheeks as he makes his way past you.

He bounds on you, the force of his kisses backing you up against the kitchen counter. And there are so many words on the tip of your tongue, but you haven’t seen this man in over a week and it’s so easy to fall back in again.

After he’s somewhat satisfied that you’re real, and you’re here in his arms, he pulls back to address you with a needy tone of voice. One that was unfamiliar to both of you.

“What was that, huh?” he demands. Looking anywhere but at your face, it’s no surprise that he misses the anguish that clouds your usual playful expression.

After a beat of silence, he pushes again.

“You couldn’t let me try to get over you.”, says Frankie, and this time, you notice the pain in his voice.

It’s like you’re frozen. Paralysed by the weight of everything that’s gone unsaid between you.

Silence follows. It’s the kind of quiet before a storm, and neither of you knows what to do to protect yourselves.

He’s holding onto your hips like they’re his altar, and he’s staring down at your body like it will lead him to enlightenment; give him the answers he needs.

When he moves his gaze back to your face, that’s when he sees the absence of light in your eyes. You look troubled. Uncertain. And Frankie’s kicking himself for not noticing the tears that are streaking your soft skin earlier. What had happened between sending him the photo and now?

Cupping your face with a tenderness unlike the way he had just kissed you so roughly, Frankie’s at a loss for what to do. He just knows he wants to soothe the pain; your pain and his, and make it all better.

Your silence feels like another dose of rejection, so Frankie takes a step back from you.

He’s amazed at his own courage, as he finds himself needing to communicate what he needs, right now.

“You know what I want.”, he says.

The look in your eyes tells him you were expecting this conversation. And it crushes him, because he needs you to fight for him. But you won’t. He can see that much from your pained expression and the way your body is curling in on itself. You’re retreating.

And you are retreating. You want so badly to run to him; to hold him in your arms and promise that you’ll try, you’ll give him what he needs.

You know you could love him right. Some mature part of you wants you to acknowledge that you are falling for him, and have been since the first night. But you’re confused, driven by heightened, raw emotion and you haven’t taken the time to process what you’re feeling for him.

His rejection still stings you, and you struggle to bounce back when you’ve been hurt. You know the adult thing to do is to talk about it - patch things up and move past it. But you’re a creature of habit and what you actually did was stew in your irrational anger, before closing yourself off to him. He’d tried to reach out and you’d crawled deeper into your pit of self-sabotage. Yeah, it wasn’t healthy and perhaps Frankie was better off without the hurt you’d most likely cause him if you gave this thing a chance to grow into something more.

A lot of self-work needed to happen before you’d be ready to let him in; let him sink deeper underneath your skin.

So you stayed put, whilst your words failed you.

Frankie’s eyes are raking over you so intensely, awaiting your next move, and all you can do is look anywhere but at him.

The tension in your body has been stretched too far, and so it snaps. And you’re sure that both of you can hear the way the energy in the room shifts just like that.

“Francisco… I -”, is all that you manage.

And Frankie feels as though he can read your mind.

What you meant to say, he thinks, was I can’t give you what you want.

And he gives you a moment to finish your admission. But nothing comes.

Wanting to be anywhere but here - facing your rejection, again, Frankie pivots towards the front door, ready to leave.

“I shouldn’t have come here.”, he says.

Then as he darts towards the exit, you call out his name, and his movements still completely.

You continue. “I - … “, before releasing a sigh.

“Frankie”, you whine, though it’s not like he’s used to hearing. It’s a broken whine, telling him all he needs to know.

You’re not ready.

“Tell me to stay. Tell me you want me.”, he pleads.

And you think it’s kinder to let him go now. As it’s only a matter of time before you break his heart anyway.

This arrangement was supposed to be casual. It wasn’t supposed to evolve this way, but you had both fallen in a little too deep, with too little communication.

Fuck, he’s a good guy. Why won’t you let yourself have this? Have him?

By now, your delicate tears have given way to distressed sobs, and you need him to walk away from you, so you can let it all out.

After what feels like an age, Frankie leaves. He realises that he’s powerless. He’d handed over all of his control, to you, and you now held the advantage.

As you watch the door close behind him, you release the hand that’s covering your mouth and unleash your heartache.

****

It’s not a secret that you miss him.

Your body feels the loss, as you regress into the shell of your hurt.

You can’t eat or sleep for the first few days, and when your appetite returns, you’re too anxious to make a run for some groceries. You’d called in sick to work, and that should’ve been a sign that Frankie meant more to you than a ‘fuck buddy’.

You were grieving him. And as cliché as it sounds, you didn’t know what you had until it was gone. Or more so, you didn’t know that you wanted more until you had nothing.

The days that followed that fateful night in your kitchen were filled with longing. You yearned for the comfort of his body: the softness of his hair underneath your fingers, the sound of his voice over the phone, the way he held you like his favourite memory. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash his clothes that appeared in your laundry; you weren’t ready to erase his scent. It was somehow calm and untamed at the same time. Like Frankie.

You also missed the way he made you feel so needed when he’d beg for your touch.

But physical touch aside, you missed his mind, too.

You found yourself wanting to bask in his dark humour; the way he was often quiet and observant in social situations, only to cut in with something downright philosophical when it counted. Truthfully, you thought a lot about the way he’d listen, hands on his hips and mouth slightly ajar, looking like he was sizing you up, though you knew he held nothing but empathy and respect for those he cared about.

It was down to you now. You needed to be the one to show up, for him. You needed to reach out to him, tell him what he means to you, but you were worried you’d missed your chance. That night in your kitchen couldn’t have been more poetic; he’d come running to you and it would’ve been perfect had you crashed into him with open arms and an open mind. But you didn’t. And that left you playing out scenarios in your head, thinking of all the ways you could confess the depth of your affection to your lover.

What would he say?

Would he take you in his arms and vow to forget the past?

Would he be forgiving? Or would he be guarded, detached?

You imagined the latter was more likely, though you had come to accept that you were the one responsible for the limbo you were both existing in.

And of all the ways you’d imagined seeing Frankie again, you never expected it to be in the grocery store; dressed for comfort and definitely not to impress.

He’s got a six-pack of beers in his hand as you let your eyes soak him up. He looks good, but also exhausted, and although your heart aches at the thought of him struggling, the needy part of you latches onto it as evidence of him missing you.

Frankie had once revealed that he loved sharing a bottle of wine with a woman, as he enjoyed getting comfortable enough with a partner to share the pleasant buzz it gave. And that was something you had delighted in, too, before taking it for granted. Though as you glanced back down at the beers he was holding, you were so thankful for his choice of beverage, as it signified there wasn’t someone waiting on him tonight.

You found yourself wanting to be the one waiting on him. Being the one he came home to every night, and the thought sent a gentle thrill through your body.

So you held on tighter to your tub of ice-cream, channeling your trepidation into the object in question as it gave your hands something to do and slightly quelled the urge to reach out and touch Frankie.

As you pluck up just enough courage to walk over to him, he reaches for a bag of chips, and you believe he's blissfully unaware of the baggage you’re bringing him.

The distance between you is not enough, as you know you’re only a few steps away from having to confront this thing. Tail between your legs, you slowly move closer to him.

Of course, as an ex-veteran, Frankie had clocked you before you even considered approaching him. He’s grateful for this, though, as it gave him a sliver of time to compose himself before you had eyes on his weary form. However, he can’t help but think the way you’re slinking towards him, in an attempt to appear discreet, is cute. Despite how much he wishes he could refrain from becoming even more infatuated with you.

Arguably, the anxiety in his stomach tells Frankie he’s not ready to face you. Though he doubts he could ever feel completely ready. So, at the moment when you become too close to ignore, he lifts his head, knowing his time’s up.

Words aren’t exchanged for a while. Rather, you’re preoccupied with assessing each other; devouring with your eyes what you’ve been deprived of for over a week.

Frankie knows he can’t be the one to break the silence. It has to be you, and if he gives you this, he’ll never know whether you mean to fight for him. He needs to see you step outside your comfort zone and give him the words you’ve held hostage.

And you do, after a poignant pause.

“Hi, uh - … you look…good, Frankie.” is all you manage to say. You find a little more confidence as you go on, and the way you breathe out his name with poise gives Frankie hope for what’s to come.

He doesn’t think it’s the right time for him to speak, though, and he doesn’t want to spook you should you be preparing to speak candidly. So, he doesn’t say anything.

You gesture towards the beers and chips in his basket, “Oh, are you seeing the boys tonight?”

Frankie puts the basket down, then, and folds his arms over his chest. He gives you a quick shake of the head, before telling you “No.”

He’s trying to appear unbothered, but the way his laboured breaths are visible through his chest tells you otherwise.

You’re fighting the instinct to run but you somehow manage to continue.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.”, you admit, and then you tell him, “I’ve been thinking about everything. About you. A lot.”

Frankie can’t help himself, and he jumps in, craving your honest disclosure.

“What do you want. Really?”, he says, and he looks so tired - exhausted by your indecision, and it makes you loathe how avoidant you’ve been with him.

Oh, you think. We’re getting to this now.

“I- I’m not used to… used to letting someone in. Y-You-” and Frankie cuts you off.

“Cariño.”, he says sternly. “I need an answer.”, and he’s begging you.

“Francisco!”, you whine petulantly. And if he couldn’t see the pained expression on your face, he’d be offended. You’re conflicted, and he wants to believe that you’re trying.

“You want me to tell you how I feel, then listen.”, you assert, before adding a softer “Please”, as you look at him like he could break your heart with any sudden moves.

“Frankie… y-you saw me, like actually took the time to learn it all. I couldn’t hide. I thought you’d find something that would make you leave me alone, and I wasn’t prepared to l-lose it.”

He leans closer, ever so slightly and it’s the encouragement you need to continue.

“Didn’t want to lose you, Frankie. You’re a good man. A man I could love, and… and I was happy but I was afraid it couldn’t last. S-so I kept going back and forth, daring you to stay. Seeing if you’d give up.”, you say, and the last five words come out sounding more uncertain than the rest.

Meanwhile, Frankie’s processing. He inhales every word out of your mouth like he’s gasping for breath. He’s needed to hear this - hear you - and it feels long overdue.

Your strength doesn’t fade, as you continue.

“I don’t know if I deserve you.”, you confess softly, before revealing, “You could be better off with someone else.”, and you can’t look him in the eye as you share such a deep-rooted insecurity with the man you’d come to adore.

It’s genuine, everything you’re saying, and Frankie sees that you’re trying, for him. He’s finding it hard not to say fuck mature communication and comfort you, knowing you could do with some physical touch to ground you. He wants to kiss you until all your worries dissipate, hating the thought that you could ever underestimate yourself in this way. If only you saw what Frankie saw when he looked at you, you’d be walking on air.

But he knows he needs to tread carefully. You’re giving him an inch, and he wants a mile, but he knows you. Knows the vulnerability you’re slowly welcoming is a lot for you, right now, and he’s appreciative regardless.

Then, you go and throw him a curveball.

Taking a risk, you move in even closer, until your feet are practically covering his, and you’re looking up at him with an innocence and vulnerability in your eyes that you reserve for him, only.

And your voice wobbles as you say, “Shit, Frankie. I need you.”

He looks down at you and you appear so small and fragile beneath his gaze. There’s no trace of your usual playfulness or moxie on your expression. And in your voice, there’s no trace of the pretence you sometimes hide behind when forced to confront your emotions. And Frankie registers that you must really mean it this time.

He needs to believe that you mean it. That you really need him, as the alternative is something he’s not prepared to brave.

Arguably, you’ve put yourself out there this time, and Frankie would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about you reverting back to reticence, should he give you another chance. Who’s to say you’ll maintain this level of communication with him? He can’t go through this again if you aren’t truly invested in moving forward.

“Fuck, I never thought we’d be stood in a grocery store having this conversation.”, you add to ease the tension, and the way Frankie lets out a breathy chuckle tells you he’s just as grateful for the relief from the heaviness.

After a moment of intense deliberation, Frankie arrives at his choice.

He understands that acknowledgement is only the start, and he needs to see that you’re willing to commit to something more, whatever that may be.

But right there on the confectionery aisle, as the artificial lighting of the store illuminates every emotion on your face - and he sees the fear, the concern, and the tenderness that gives you away, Frankie decides that he needs you.

And, like an addict, he swears to have you in whatever capacity he can get.

You can’t read him, and you’re on edge awaiting his response.

Then with a newfound sense of ease, Frankie picks up the six-pack from the basket beside you, as you watch his every move; afraid you’ll miss something.

He gestures to the beers, before the slightest hint of a smirk greets you from beneath his baseball cap.

“How about we swap these for some of that wine you like? Then we can head back to my place. Talk some more.” he says.

And he knows those last three words could scare you off.

Yet as you take his hand, pulling him over to the aisle you need, Frankie feels hopeful.

It’s a kind of hope that simultaneously scares and excites him, and right now, he’s okay with that.

Thank you for reading! Please consider commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed it. <3

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x female reader #francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x female reader #frankie morales x f!reader

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yxlnst · 4 months

Note

Hello! i hope youre having a great day/night

I’ve recently read your fics and i do truly love them, i was here to request something if you dont mind. Feel free to ignore this if its uncomfortable for you!!

I honestly LOVE heavy angst but fluff at the end lmao, could you maybe write something rreeallllyyy angsty with jun, but with a fluff ending? I can’t really come up with good ideas tbh, but maybe a huge argument? Honestly i dont know i just cope with these stuff so anything is fine lol.

Thank you so much if youre seeing this!! Have a great day/night

ofc!! And thank youu aswell, also if the story was not what you had in mind please tell me!! Now lets focus on the ff :DDD

Rebuilding Us

idol!Jun x reader!Y/n

Angst + Fluff

🧸 Word count 🧸 : 664

🎀 Summary : Argument drives you and Jun apart. Reconciliation brings the two of you back together stronger.

🧸 - - - - - - - - - - - - 🎀 - - - - - - - - - - 🧸

Jun stood in the living room, tension crackling in the air like a live wire. You had been arguing for hours, and now, exhaustion and frustration were beginning to take their toll.

"I just don't understand why you can't see it from my perspective!" Jun's voice was raised, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the intensity of the argument.

You crossed your arms, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. "And I don't get why you're always so quick to dismiss my feelings! It's like you don't even care!"

His eyes softened for a brief moment before the anger flared up again. "That's not fair, and you know it. I care more than you realize, but this—" he gestured between the two of you, "this is tearing us apart."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with unspoken words and hurt. You both stood there, breathing heavily, trying to process everything that had been said. The emotional distance between you seemed insurmountable.

"I just… I need some space," you finally whispered, the words cutting through the tension like a knife. "I can't keep doing this."

Jun's face fell, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability behind his anger. "So, what? You're just going to walk away?" His voice was quiet now, laced with pain.

You turned away, unable to look at him. "I don't know, Jun. Maybe we both need time to figure things out."

As you walked to the door, you heard him sigh deeply. "I don't want to lose you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't keep fighting like this either."

You paused, your hand on the doorknob, and looked back at him. The sight of him, standing there with a mixture of desperation and sadness, made your heart ache. "I need to think," you said softly. "I hope you understand."

Days passed, and the space between you and Jun felt like a chasm. You missed him terribly, but the arguments had left scars that were slow to heal. One evening, as you sat on the couch, lost in thought, your phone buzzed with a message.

Y/n can we talk? I miss you.

You hesitated, your heart racing. After a few moments, you typed back a simple reply.

Okay.

That night, you met at the park where you had shared so many happy memories. Jun was already there, pacing nervously. When he saw you, he stopped, his expression a mix of hope and fear.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," you replied, equally nervous.

There was a long silence before Jun spoke again. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said. About how I dismiss your feelings. You're right. I was so caught up in my own frustrations that I didn't really listen to you."

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding. "I wasn't fair either. I should have tried to understand where you were coming from instead of just getting defensive."

Jun stepped closer, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want to fight anymore. I want us to work through this. Together."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded. "Me too. I hate being apart from you, Jun."

He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "I love you. More than anything. Let's not give up on us."

A tear slipped down your cheek as you squeezed his hand. "I love you too. Let's start over."

Jun pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he was afraid to let go. The warmth of his embrace felt like coming home. In that moment, all the pain and anger melted away, replaced by the promise of a fresh start.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy. But as long as you had each other, you were ready to face anything together.

The night sky above was clear, the stars shining brightly as if celebrating your reunion. And as you walked hand in hand, you both knew that the love you shared was stronger than any argument, ready to face whatever came next, together.

#svt jun #junhui x you #junhui ff #jun ff #jun x reader #jun fluff #junhui x reader #jun angst #junhui scenarios #seventeen jun #wen junhui #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine

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fillinforlater · 2 years

Text

Eleven to One: Boundless Breeding

Male Reader x Kang Hyewon

Length: 2344 words

Tags: the definition of breeding, various positions, Master play, dom/sub dynamic, rough sex with impregnation, teasing, spanking, begging, riding, doggy, mating press, multi orgasm, overstimulation, a lot of insults and degradation, Daddy kink, preggo!Hyewon

TW: Breeding kink, but with consequences, degradation, allusions to Master/Slave dynamic / Hyewon being owned

Inspiration: @sooyadelicacies and I mentioned this in "Torrential Takeover" and now... we made it come true. I think OC made sure that Hyewon is REALLY pregnant lmao

Credit: @sooyadelicacies ofc, my co-writer for the series!

(A/N: This takes place right after "Punitive Punishment", and this time, we wanted to make sure that it's not overboard in terms of length lol. Enjoy!)

"Hey! Daddy where are you—"

Yujin's whine is cut off by you slamming the apartment door shut. No time to deal with her now. In all honesty, she hasn't earned it yet. A night of no sex will show her that you are able to enforce a punishment.

The elevator doors open and close. To stand in this tiny space, not being able to speed up the process or do something meaningful in between, it feels like a real-life loading screen. You roll your eyes. Doors open and close.

The car is not that much different. Sure, you are in full control and need to drive it yourself, but with all the experience you have and empty roads ahead, it's just more or less the same. A waste of time, something to groan over. Money can't buy a teleporter if it doesn't exist. A helicopter though, you think with a sigh.

It will be worth it though. Jump out of the car and sprint over to the tall apartment complex. It will be worth it soon. Another elevator ride, but this time you are too distracted by the tightness in your dress pants. It'll be so worth it. Loosen your tie and knock on the apartment door. So worth it.

"Master! I'm so happy you came!"

What a surprise. A surprise that was definitely worth it.

Hyewon, powerful idol, business woman, CEO—her rise has been steep and it was always evident in her new clothes. From the unique idol costumes, to more expensive dresses and lastly, the suits with ridiculous price tags. She probably wore a new, hand tailored one every day.

But now, for you, it's all different. Hyewon wears a gray hoodie, at least a size too big for her slender frame, as well as a pair of dolphin shorts. Her hair is in a simple ponytail, messy but not completely out of control. Excitedly, she sways from one leg to the other and plays with the hem of her hoodie.

"I did not expect my slut to look this... casual," you murmur after catching your breath. With every step you take into the apartment, Hyewon backs off more and more. She is diligent to keep a respectful distance between herself and her master.

"Master, you don't like it? I'm so sorry! I will immediately change into—"

"I didn't say that," you laugh and take a quick step to close the distance. A glass door right behind Hyewon prevents her from keeping the distance, so you relish in her fearful, begging, needy eyes as you caress her tender cheek. She is smaller than you, but like this, she is downright tiny, miniscule, nothing. A hole, she admitted it herself.

"Hm, but maybe a costume would be better. How about a cow or some bunny ears. That would be more fitting," you whisper and pinch her cheek.

"Anything for Master, I'll get right to it," Hyewon says with fake enthusiasm that can't hide her uncertainty and mind-controlling, desperate desire. This otherworldly feeling of power over her, to control everything, down to the one final thing she wants, keeps you from taking her on the spot.

"No, too late. Get on your knees and crawl, bitch. I won't lie, I'm a bit disappointed thus far."

Hyewon is obedient. Her bare knees touch the cold floor and her hands follow suit. You open the class door and she gets the point. In a hurry she moves deeper into her open space apartment.

"This place looks quite impressive. Who owns it?" you ask.

"Master does," Hyewon responds and continues to crawl closer to the couch area.

You reach for your bitches shorts and yank them down. A firm, quick smack on her bare buttocks makes Hyewon squirm and wince. Literally nothing of her former power remains when you’re around. Hit her ass again just for that cute, submissive voice to return.

"M-Master..."

"This ass is not bad either. Who owns it?"

"My Master does. He owns all of me."

"Oh~" you hum with a smirk and sit down on one of the many couches you didn't even know you own. A snap of your fingers later, Hyewon wiggles herself in between your parted legs. The shorts around her thighs make every move difficult.

"Hyewon," you say calmly, your smirk fading into a much more wholesome smile, "you can stand up and take them off. You are so tense, God, it's painful to watch. And not the sexy kind of pain."

"Th-thank you, Master."

Hyewon gets up and pulls off the black shorts from her gorgeous legs. You reach for her thighs and pull her closer. Her perfectly smooth, already moist pussy touches your knee, then your thigh. The fabric of your trousers rubs over her core and a pent-up moan comes from Hyewon's mouth.

"My slut likes that, huh?" you say teasingly and softly nibble on her earlobe. Hyewon has not been touched since the fateful meeting that changed both your lives. Soon, you'll be one of the richest people in the country, from a millionaire CEO to a billionaire with a monopoly.

Meanwhile Hyewon went a very different path, from a prodigy of the business world to a toy that just wants to be filled with cum. Your cum, the stuffing you did not pump into her the last time. She wants it so badly.

"Hm, Master. It f-feels good."

"Good, then I'll make you cum."

A second of silence. Surprise and disappointment are in Hyewon's eyes, but she hesitates to open her mouth to speak up, instead she moans at your touch. You grab her waist gently and drag her body up and down your thigh. The friction on her pussy makes Hyewon whine.

"B-but I thought M-Master wanted—"

"No, you wanted it. You begged for it back then, but it looks like you've changed your mind."

Hyewon cups her mouth as her moans get louder. She certainly enjoys this already, probably even more so because of her deprivation for sex. Only when you feel for her tummy and tits beneath the hoodie does she respond.

"N-no, I—your bitch still wants to be bre-bred. Please, Master, p-put your semen in me."

Slap her ass once, twice, then move to the other cheek. You repeat the process and tug at her messy ponytail. Before you roughly bite her delicious looking, luscious lips. You growl straight into her anxious face:

"Beg, you dumb whore. Beg for it, beg for me."

Hyewon screams. Your teeth dig into her fragile flesh and your fingers attack every inch of her fuckable body. She is so sensitive, the flurry of feelings makes her mind go haywire. Your bites move down her chin to her collarbone, when Hyewon's voice becomes louder than ever before:

"Master, I'm your toy, your cow. I'm nothing without your cock, please fill me so I can be something!"

"More!"

"I need to smell like your seed and gush it all over the place. I need you to fuck me, Master, fuck your heir into me. Breed Hyewon, please!"

You open up the tight prison that are your pants. At the same time, Hyewon gets rid of the hoodie that has left her upper body all sweaty. She is in heat, physically incapable of anything else before your manhood spears her open. Luckily, you set your cock free and immediately place it on Hyewon's needy pink lips. A flick on her labia, and she begins to cry.

"Please, Master, I'm your sex toy, your bitch. Fuck me—ah!"

You push upwards, into Hyewon, while guiding her down onto you at the same time. Before you are even fully inside, she wants to bounce on it, but you keep her waist in place with rough hands on her smooth skin. Give her a pissed look and she falters. Hyewon remains still as your cock goes deeper and deeper. Before you reach her cervix, you give her tits a hard slap and her cry is a double high note.

"What should you say, bitch?" you ask, unimpressed by her writhes and sways on your lap or the way her hands hold onto your knees for dear life. There is enough evidence for you to believe that Hyewon is in fact already close to an overstimulating orgasm. Good.

"Th-thank you, Master."

The tight grip of her lingers on you for a bit. You've only fucked her once, which means that she still feels unique, exceptionally suffocating to your already well-used cock. Combined with her fabulous body and stunning face that has already melted to your will, it helps you enter a stage where there is nothing but fucking, nothing but breeding on your mind.

Pound upwards. Hyewon begins to bounce as well. Your voices combine in a duet of unintelligible sounds of pure bliss. Wet pussy juice and pre-cum leak fast, you're basically forcing it out. You need to pump into her, need her to ride as long as she can. It won't be long and she will be limp. You put one of Hyewon's bouncing tits in your mouth. The other gets twisted gently, roughly, somehow. All for her to go faster, become tighter.

“Ah, Master, s-so good," Hyewon babbles and tries to go faster. It's funny to think that she is simultaneously giving it her all to ride you, while her walls suck you in so hard that she can barely move past the friction.

"Hm, you like to be bred so hard," you say, your voice failing to formulate it as a question, but they way her entire body perfectly milks you, it might as well be fact.

The well-known knot in your stomach is under your full control, just like the bitch on your lap. Yes, this power is incredible, control absolutely superb, but if you're honest to yourself, you don't mind cumming uncontrollably, all the time, deep inside. You let go.

"Fuck, Hyewon, I'm gonna—"

"Yes, Master, fill me! Breed me!"

You reach for her shoulders and press her down. Hyewon screams next to your ear when your nibble at her jaw is a sudden bite. Her heavy gushing cannot stop your first filling of her child-bearing organs. A sticky, wet sensation engulfs you, engulfs her mind. Hyewon went limp too fast.

Limp or not, you go for more. This is not enough to be certain, hell, it's basically like you're just about to start. Remove Hyewon from your lap, ignore the way she twitches in the aftermath of her orgasm. You bend her over the living room table. It's a bit too small to recreate the view from when you first fucked her in "her" office, but perfect to see her ass high up. She looks so fuckable, even from behind.

You insert yourself again and fuck not only your cock, but also all the cum deep, deep, deeper into Hyewon. After a shriek, she stays breathless at first, but after a minute of unrelenting drilling, she begins to cry. The overstimulation got to her.

"M-Master too-too much!"

"Are you sure you want me to stop—" you hiss viciously while pulling at her hair, "—while I give you this gift of a child?"

"Ah, n-no," Hyewon shouts through her tears. You let go of her hair and spank her rippling ass.

"I thought so."

You reach in between her legs and through your pistoning find her sensitive nub. You rub it with all the wetness of Hyewon's juices and she orgasms again. Involuntairly, her body rocks back and forth to make your fucking even faster. Her cunt once again grips for dear life, it even heats up—okay that might just be your second load, which you dump into her at that moment.

Usually your mind gets dazed after this much sex with a rollercoaster of climaxes, but just like in a bad Wattpad-Smut, you go for one more round. You wish it would be as big as in those stories, but it's more or less just an excuse to push seed into Hyewon's womb and fall into a delirium of overstimulation.

You spin Hyewon around and place her back onto the couch. She is drooling, whimpering, her marvelous face just a mess of contortions and sweat. With no regards to her flexibility or consequences to potential aches all over her legs, you put Hyewon in a mating press and continue to fuck her. It hurts your spent cock, but her pussy is a perfect pool of warmth and tightness you won't leave yet.

"Master, Master!" Hyewon cries out, her voice crooked.

"Soon, when you finally fulfill your purpose, you can call me Daddy, cow!"

Your hips work significantly slower, but with more intent. The penetration does not end at random spots. Your cockhead deliberately hits deep, and Hyewon's body jerks with each hard, stimulating attack. Her hands bounce the same way her voluptuous bosom does. Wet noises, mostly queefs from her pussy dominate this song of mating. Moans and groans have been replaced by elaborate breaths and the occasional peek when you hit Hyewon's cavern hard enough.

It's all over soon. Things will be set in motion that cannot be undone. The world-famous, wildly beloved ex-idol is now bound to become pregnant. Her glorious, flat tummy will become concave. Your companies are about to merge, and in the midst of this massive, complicated process with lawyers and data and all the other boring bullshit, something wonderful happens. Sure, it's dirty and seems loveless, but Hyewon's glistening orbs tell a different story.

Tears stream down her face as she pulls you into a hug. Her cunt sucks the last droplets of fertile baby batter out of your balls. You are empty, but she is overflowing.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Master," she coos and wails as you collapse. Exhaustion hits you like a train, a hydrogen bomb, a fucking meteor. You crawl onto the couch and fall into a dream, a dream where Hyewon is happy, grateful, with a child in her arms.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I surely lost my mind.

#kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #hyewon smut #izone smut #kang hyewon smut #male reader smut #male reader insert #male reader

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scribble-bunnie · 8 months

Text

Let You Go | Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x Reader (Gender Neutral, I think, I didn't specify anything)

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending that's also kinda Open?

Summary: Fragments of the process of falling in love with you; and the moment it all built up to.

A/n: This is my first time writing for this fandom and I'm only watched till the 2nd episode of S4 so please forgive any mistakes! Also, the Doctor might be ooc (my biggest nightmare, writing ooc characters) but I was possessed last night to write this instead of studying so ofc I will share it. The pacing is all over the place and I'm not the proudest but it's something. I hope you enjoy it regardless <3

also available on ao3!

The Doctor doesn't remember how it happened. It had been too quick, or maybe too slow– or maybe it was both at once, leaving him unable to pinpoint when or how he fell in love with you. All he knew was that it had been easy.

There were moments though– moments when he could remember distinctly the unusual rhythm of his hearts that played only around you. Moments when, in the back of his mind, he had no choice but to admit that he was in love.

The one that hurt him the most to this day was the moment born out of his own anger. It had been at the end of a particularly harsh adventure, one that had left his feelings in a jumble, anger hot and quick to lash out the moment you had pushed a little too far, too close to his heart and to his hurt– he had shouted at you, "Don't you dare! You are not special!"

There was silence for a few seconds, enough to get the Doctor to realise what he had said but it was your response that still haunted him to this day.

"I know," you had said gently. He could see the hurt in your eyes, masked with an understanding and soft smile that was reassured. "I know I'm not special. I'm perfectly ordinary. And isn't that wonderful? Someone special like you needs someone ordinary like me by his side– to remind you that it's okay to be ordinary sometimes. It's not a bad thing, Doctor."

You had inched closer and opened your arms to offer him a hug, a way out of the conversation – a silent way to make an apology. He had taken it, not knowing what else he could have done instead to make you realise that you were wrong. Being ordinary was wonderful, but you were special. Special to him in ways he was too terrified to admit even to himself, so much so that he had said the opposite in a fit of anger because he was scared.

He didn't know how you did it, but you somehow knew that his anger was just him being hurt and scared. And you were always generous with your hugs when anyone was afraid– didn't he know that after seeing you hold so many strangers close while on your dangerous adventures? Those same strangers that he had been jealous of had been replaced by him in that situation and suddenly, the moment was not all that he had hoped it would be. It wasn't a delicate and vulnerable moment like he had thought; he had ruined it by hurting you.

Yet you were never one to hold a grudge. You never really mentioned it, except in passing sometimes when you joked about being ordinary and common whenever an alien or person would think you extraordinary. Every single time, the Doctor regretted not letting you know the truth– but that moment had been one where he couldn't have denied the truth even if he was scared.

There were other times, other memories of you that were a lot more warmer to remember. Like the time when you had asked him, a few days after joining him, whether the TARDIS was alive. He had answered you with a simple yes, and you had just nodded then but he could see you take the time to pet the TARDIS and speak to her sometimes when you thought he wasn't around. It was sweet, the way you were connecting to his only constant through all of time and space.

There was a moment on another planet, one in the far past where an alien species had been under attack from another. The Doctor still remembered the sight of you holding the alien child in your arms while you all tried to escape– had heard the comfort you had whispered into the child's ears despite being scared underneath the surface yourself.

When he asked you about it later, you had just given him a radiant smile and said, "The fear is just my natural instinct, Doctor. But the conscious part of me knows that you are there– and it's never scared because it believes in you."

You believed in him.

Sometimes, he wondered why. On the days when all the two of you encountered was death and destruction, the whispers of the danger that follows the Doctor clanging in the back of his head as hollow reminders, he wondered why you would choose to put all your faith in him. Why would you think that he was special, but you were ordinary? How were you able to still offer him comfort after seeing him destroy planets, species, entire civilizations? What did you see in him, an empty shell of a man he once used to be?

"Doctor?"

Your voice was like a steady anchor whenever he felt like he was drowning in his own thoughts. The loud volume of it was always offset with the gentleness in your tone whenever you spoke to him, and somehow, it always managed to make him feel warm. It sounded a lot like ho–

"Doctor, are you okay?" Your voice was concerned now. The Doctor blinked, snapping out of his own thoughts to look at you. You were holding something in your left hand and reaching out to touch him with your right one. "Is there something I can do?"

"No, no!" He cleared his throat, giving you a bright grin that faded a little at the edges when he realised that you were still staring at him impassively. "Sorry, just got a bit lost in my thoughts there."

You hummed, wrapping your arms around the box in your hands now. The Doctor looked at it curiously; wasn't it one of those cookie tins that you said were always full of sewing materials?

"Was it… about her?" You asked quietly, a little unsure and hesitant. It was the only topic you never really brought up– and whenever you did, you always sounded a little scared. Like anything you said would hurt him too much. Or maybe you were scared to pry too far into his feelings. "The planet we went to today… Did you go there with her?"

He had done that before. You had been there with Martha, when he had taken you two to places he had been with Rose. Never again after that, though.

"No, not this one," he shook his head, trying to look you in the eyes. It was usually so easy, you were always looking at him with wide eyes that seemed to admire him. Now though, you were looking away. He tried again. "I wasn't thinking about her."

"Home, then?" You finally looked him in the eyes, a little tension sucked out but not all. Gallifrey was the second topic you were careful to speak around. You had had your fair share of answers demanded out of him like Martha had, but after that, you had let the choice lie with him whether he wanted to talk about it. And, weirdly enough, sometimes he wanted to tell you everything. Wanted to tell you about the place that once used to be his home. Now…

"This is my home now," he replied quietly, hand slipping to cover yours over the cookie tin. You and the TARDIS. Home. "Anyway, what's this?"

If you realised his terrible attempt at switching topics (which you did, as always), you didn't comment on it. Instead, you held up the box and opened it to reveal not the notorious sewing materials but actual cookies.

"I," you blushed, embarrassed for once. It was surprising, considering you had held steadfast through far more humiliating scenes in all your adventures. Why were you blushing over cookies? "I tried baking some cookies. It's not, it's not much, and they're not all that goo– hey! I'm still speaking!"

The Doctor didn't wait after hearing that you made them. He immediately picked one up to try it. He could tell that the baking powder was just a little bit too much and the mix wasn't done properly in some bits but you were looking at him with a shy smile.

"I thought you deserved a little nice something after the mess our last adventure was," you mumbled, picking up one of the cookies yourself to eat.

"It's good," the Doctor felt a little choked– not on the cookie, but there was a lump in his throat. You rolled your eyes, waving your half eaten cookie at him.

"Liar," you called out, smiling through the action. "I promise the next ones will be better. Or maybe I should try a cake next time. Would you like that?"

The Doctor stiffly nodded, trying to blink away the sting in his eyes. As always, you knew something was off.

"Hey," your voice was soft, concerned. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"No," the word came out before he could stop it. Somehow, neither his brain nor his mouth had a filter when it came to you. "I just… wonder."

You waited for him to speak when he paused, trying hard to put the words together. Speaking his emotions was always so difficult.

"I just wonder," he tried again, "what I did to deserve you."

"It's just cookies, silly," you shook your head, inching closer. The Doctor hoped you would step even closer. A hug would be really, really nice right now. "It's nothing compared to all that you've given me. I have seen so much, gone all across time and space because of you– I could ask you right back what I did to deserve you."

"It's not," he was struggling but he had to let you know. You looked a bit confused, pausing in your actions to look up at him. "It's not nothing. All of time and space is nothing compared to all that you have given me. That understanding, that comfort, that warmth– I can't find it anywhere else in that time and space you speak of."

"Doctor…"

"Do you remember that time I said you were not special?" He asked quietly, taking a step closer. It was the first time he had done it; usually, you were the one who had to cross the space between the two of you. You opened your mouth, probably to say that it was all bygones, but he rushed ahead with, "I lied. I have wanted to tell you ever since then, that I am just a coward, and a liar. Saying that you're not special… that was just me trying to tell myself that I can't let you be special to me. Because the moment I let that happen, that's the moment I–"

He broke off, frustrated at how the words just weren't coming out the way they were supposed to. What was he supposed to say anyway? It's not like he could tell you his feelings. There was no way you would take it kindly. Not after knowing about Rose, not when you had only ever looked at him with respect and admiration.

"Doctor," your voice was quiet but you were so close and the hum of the TARDIS had quietened so much that he could hear you clearly. "Don't."

Was it possible for both his hearts to sink? He stared at you, tears welling up in your eyes as you gave him a painful smile.

"Don't do this," you added shakily, your arms coming up to hold yourself. Beside you, the cookie tin lay forgotten on the console. "Don't… give me hope, only to take it away. I have been strong, but I'm not strong enough for this."

"What–?" He didn't understand. You closed your eyes and took a step back, a step away from him. Something inside him fractured.

"I have loved you in silence, Doctor," you said quietly, "and I thought I did it well enough for you not to realise. But I must not have done a good enough job hiding it– you know how it is. I'm not, I'm not asking you to return my feelings. I don't expect or even hope you to. All I ask is that you forget it. Forget you know it and let me go on one more adventure with you. One last, if you can no longer bear to see my face after this. Just one–"

"Why one?" He stepped closer, covering the distance you had backed up. "Why not all of them?"

You seemed to have lost your breath as you stared at him. "Y- You mean it? I can stay? You will forget this happened?"

"No," he shook his head, hands reaching out to touch your elbows. With his eyes, he asked you for permission. You would be mad to deny it, when that's all you've wanted for so long now. "I can't forget it even if I tried to. I told you, you are something that I can't find anywhere else in all of time and space. And if you choose me, then I'm selfish enough to not let you go."

°•❀•°

all likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated ♡

#doctor who #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor #doctor who x reader #tenth doctor x you #ten x reader #doctor who reader insert #this is scary asf #please don't judge me based on this ><#i swear im usually better #writing for a new fandom is so so scary aaaa

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birds--daily · 8 months

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Hi! Could you do (when you're able to ofc) a video about your art process? Kind of like a speedpaint video without it being sped up. Thanks :)

hiii!! i don't have a video (maybe i'll record one soon!!) but i do have process pics from my latest bird! i hope these suffice

first, i collect good reference pics of my bird. here, i'm drawing a ruddy duck! i usually find about 4 per bird

next, i try to find the simple, geometric shapes of the bird and i block out a quick sketch. i like the pose of the picture on the right, so i'm using that as my main reference

adding details and refining...

line art! pretty simple. as of right now i use a brush from the csp asset store called the wiggle brush

block in and flat color...

now time for details! i try to break down the colors and lighting i see on the bird into simple geometric shapes. the ruddy duck doesn't have many patterns. so instead i opted to try and include variations in lighting to add detail. i like to use lots of small lines to imply feathers

and viola! a ruddy duck :0) quack!

i hope this is good enough! i'll try to remember to record my progress sometime but i can probably only do a speedpaint cuz i use csp 😭 a full video would take up soooo much space on my ipad

thanks for the ask !! 🦆

#artists on tumblr #bird art #birds #ornithology #art process

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thatonefemmelesbian · 3 months

Note

Hi! Would you do like a friends to lovers with jb? Ofc no rush!! Thank you!

Hii! Thank you so much for the suggestion! I hope you enjoy it 💕

Description: youre close friends with Julien, but you both develop feelings for each other. Julien decides to confess her feelings to you one night. This one is quite long, I got a bit carried away, I apologise.

THE FIRST TIME MEETING

You were staying with Phoebe, your friend, while you in the process of finding a new apartment since your rent keeps going up but your income from your job does not. You had always heard her talk about her best friends, Julien and Lucy, and tonight she decided to invite them over, although you were slightly hesitant. “Come on, it’ll be fine! They’ll love you, i promise!” She tried to convince you. You’ve always been quite anxious in social situations, so the idea meeting of two people made you a little uneasy, but seeing how much they mean to Phoebe, you thought it would be mean to say no. “Ok I gue-” you were cut off by a very excited cheer, causing you to laugh. “they’re coming over at around 5, so you still have a couple hours to psyche yourself up” she joked, but really you did need those couple of hours to convince yourself not to back out. You went back to the room you were staying in, and decided to take a ‘short’ nap since you were feeling quite tired.

You heard laughter coming from the living room, pulling you out of your sleep. You slowly open your eyes, trying to read the time on your phone. 5:45. Shit. You swear you were only asleep for like an hour. You start getting up, giving your hair a quick brush through and making sure your makeup didn’t smudge while you slept, but every second you were growing more and more nervous about leaving your room. You eventually made it to the door, opening it and beginning to walk out, but seeing the three of them sat in the living room made your anxiety deepen, quickly retreating back to the comfort of your room. “Get your ass out here! I was starting to think you died from how long you were asleep!” You heard Phoebe yell out to you. You started to slowly come out again, pulse quickening with each step you took, nearing closer and closer to the living room. “There she is! We were starting to think Phoebe made you up” laughed one of the women sitting on the couch, arms covered in tattoos. You admired the ink on her arms for a second before she reached her hand out, shaking yours

“I’m Julien” she smiled. You nervously shook her hand, introducing yourself to her. The tall woman beside her then reached her hand out too, “I’m Lucy, it’s nice to know you’re a real person” she joked. You laughed shyly, feeling bad about oversleeping and taking too long to come out of your room. You sat down next to Phoebe, listening to the three of them talking about their music and making inside jokes with each other. You had absolutely nothing to contribute to the conversation, making you feel very excluded and frankly, unwanted. You started zoning out, staring at the floor for a few minutes, before Lucy then directed the conversation to you. This is even worse you thought to yourself. She asked you simple questions, making small talk, but you hated being the topic of discussion. Just as you were about to come up with some lame excuse to leave the room, you heard Julien start talking about one of your favourite books, immediately grabbing your attention. You talked about the book for what seemed like hours, discussing your favourite parts, characters and quotes from it. You fully understand why Phoebe was such good friends with her.

It started getting late and Lucy and Julien were heading out. You hugged them goodbye and as you were about to walk back to your room, you heard your name being called

“Hey, can I get your phone number? We can trade book suggestions” Julien said. You happily put your number in your phone, looking forward to the friendship that would come. You were already making a mental note of books you think she would like

A FEW MONTHS LATER

You and Julien would spend hours on the phone, seeing as she lived in Tennesse, and you were in in LA, the only way to see each other was through a screen or when she came to visit down to visit Phoebe. You had found a new apartment now, but still spent just as much time with Phoebe. Your daily routine consisted of going to work, coming home, and texting Julien all night. You’d obviously had best friends before, but something about your friendship with Julien felt much more real than with anyone else. You would FaceTime for hours, talking about anything that came to mind, having deep, philosophical conversations, her telling you about some songs she’s working on, you ranting about your job, anything and everything you guys talked about.

One day, she came back to LA for a couple of weeks to work on the new album with Phoebe and Lucy, but when they weren’t in the studio, the three of you would be hanging out at Phoebes. You had also brown quite close with Lucy, and they joked they’d have to add you into the band- despite you not having any musical talent. When they had the day off one day, you and julien decided to go check out an old bookstore and go thrift shopping, stopping at dunkin on the way of course. You were enjoying your time together, and everything was going well until you ran into some fans. They asked for a pic with Julien, but when they posted it on social media, it had you still slightly in frame, causing the internet to speculate about who you are. People made assumptions that you two were together, which you laughed about and mocked the people calling you a couple. You thought nothing of it, until Phoebe and Lucy decided to start teasing the two of you, jokingly calling you a couple and Julien eventually joined in on the joke, calling you ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ with an obvious tone of sarcasm. But a part of you secretly wished it wasn’t sarcasm. You never thought of her in a romantic way before, but suddenly that was all you could think about. But you know she wouldn’t feel the same way, so you decided to try to suppress those thoughts and never mention them to anyone.

A FEW MORE MONTHS LATER

Julien and Lucy were back in LA once again, and as excited as you were, you were also holding back a bit. Those feelings you tried to desperately suppress, only grew stronger as your friendship with Julien became stronger. And it didn’t help that she still called you sweetheart and baby, and the sarcastic tone of hers has started to fade. The boys were finally finished with the album and decided to go out to a bar to celebrate, and invited you to thank you for the support throughout the whole thing. You put on your makeup and styled your hair half up, half down, with a bow added in. You slipped on a white mini dress, and a pair of heels, grabbing your phone and purse before heading out to meet the three of them at the bar

“Didn’t I tell you this was just a casual thing” Phoebe said as she greeted you, spinning you around to see your outfit, your skirt lightly lifting up and floating as she twirled you. “Shut up, you’re just jealous she looks better than you” Lucy said as she came over to hug you. You walked over with them to their table, seeing Julien walking back with plates of food for the table. “Hey sweetheart” she greeted you, sitting down beside you and putting her arm over your shoulder as an attempt at a hug. You felt butterflies in your stomach and suddenly became very nervous around her. “H-hey, uh, congratulations on finishing the album” you replied, looking everywhere but at her. “Couldn’t have done it without your support” Phoebe joked. You all lifted up your glasses and toasted to finishing the album, clinking your drinks together. Your drink splashed out of the glass and onto your dress. Of all days to wear white. You quickly picked up a napkin, but it only spread the stain on your dress. Julien quickly took off her jacket, putting it over you so the stain was hidden. The smell of her cigarettes mixed with her cologne made your mind go straight back to those thoughts of her. Thinking about how easy it would be to just lean over and kiss her right there. Or how easy it would be to reach over and hold her hand. And how safe it would feel to be held in her arms. You felt her staring at you, causing you to feel uneasy. There was a moment’s silence at the table when she quietly whispered,

“God you look really beautiful”. You felt your heart skip a beat and cheeks growing hot and without a mirror present you knew you were flushed pink. “You look really good too, and thanks for giving me your jacket” you responded, causing her eyes to widen as if she didn’t mean for you to hear her comment. “Well it looks better on you than me” your heart rate quickened with each word she spoke. You were totally infatuated with her. The sound of her voice. Her gorgeous brown eyes. Her tattoos. Everything. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from her. You two rejoined the conversation that Phoebe and Lucy were having, until a song started playing, causing Phoebe to start singing along. “We should get up and dance!” Lucy suggested, looking around at the other people dancing around, although some were probably too drunk to be able to stand up much longer. You were hesitant, knowing you weren’t the best dancer, but everyone else got up so you felt obligated to join in too.

You and Lucy started dancing together, her hands on your hips, yours on her waist, swaying slowly back and forth together. You could feel eyes on you, making you slightly uncomfortable as you assumed it was probably some drunk old man. “I think someone’s getting jealous” Lucy laughed, looking over at Julien, a serious expression painted on her face, staring daggers at the two of you. “Yeah right, she doesn’t even like me like that” you responded, certain that she had no feelings for you. “You’re all she ever talks about, you know? She doesn’t even know how to have a conversation without mentioning you anymore.” Lucy confessed. You started feel slightly hopeful that maybe there was something more than friendship between the two of you. You slowed down your movements as you felt a hand on your shoulder, turning around to see Julien, not looking happy. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute” she said, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to the table. You turned around and looked at Lucy over shoulder, who was now joined by Phoebe, the both of them winking and making kissy faces and hand hearts as they watched the two of you walk back to your seat.

“What did you wanna talk about? Is everything okay?” You asked, a sense of anxiety creeping upon you once again. Julien didn’t say anything for a couple of moments, just sat there playing with the rings on her fingers and avoiding eye contact. You started to really worry. Did I do something wrong? Is she okay? A thousand thoughts raced around your head, the anxiety getting stronger. Julien finally lifted her eyes off the table, staring at you for a moment before reaching down to take your hand in hers, deciding to finally speak. “I uh, I really appreciate all the time I’ve spent with you, you’re really a great person. I’m so grateful I have you in my life, but I want you in it more. It’s not enough to just be your friend and only see you through a phone or every couple of months in between working on music and being busy at the studio all day. I need to be more than just another one of your friends. I can never stop thinking about you, or talking about you, and I think it’s really starting to drive everyone around me crazy. And it’s driving me crazy too, to not have you in my arms, to not be able to just grab your gorgeous face and kiss you whenever I want, to not be able to spent every waking moment with you. Living without oxygen would be easier than living without you.” You’re taken aback by everything she’s said. Of course that was everything you ever wanted to hear, but you never expected her to feel the same way about you. She searches your face looking for any hint of how you’re feeling. You squeeze her hand tightly and blurt out “Julien, please kiss me”. She’s stunned for a second, in disbelief that the girl of her dreams wants her just as much, but she wastes no time attaching her lips to yours. Lucy and Phoebe start clapping and loudly cheering, causing Julien to give them the middle finger behind your head.

You pull apart, and are rejoined by Lucy and Phoebe, both with smug expressions on their faces, as if they were the ones who just got together. “I totally called it! I fucking told you!” Lucy brags to you. You spend the rest of the time at the bar dancing with Julien and with her arms all over you, until it’s getting too late and the bar is closing up. You walk back to your car, Juliens arm still draped around your waist as she walks you back. She opens your door for you but before you get in you can’t help but kiss her again. “Do you wanna come back to my place for night?” You offer. “I would love to” she smiles smugly.

You arrive back at your apartment, collapsing onto the couch together and turning on whatever’s on the tv. You rest your head on her chest and she runs her fingers through your hair, occasionally pressing soft kisses to your forehead. She looks down at you with a wide smile spread across her face. God her smile is so beautiful. “You’re so beautiful sweetheart” she says. You realise that this time when she calls you sweetheart, she actually means it, and it’s no longer some sarcastic joke that started from a couple instagram comments. She notices you don’t respond for a couple seconds and gets worried she did something wrong. You mean too much to her for her to mess this up. “Can I call you that? Sweetheart?” She asks, her voice laced with concern. You smile and nod your head. “Of course you can call me that”. “What about baby?” She presses a kiss to your head as you nod. “Princess?” You hide your face in her neck, butterflies filling your stomach and she presses another kiss to your head. “what about my love?” Each pet name she calls makes your heart beam and you wrap your arms tighter around her. She pulls your head out of her neck and lifts up your chin with her index finger and thumb. “What about my girlfriend” Your heart melts and you press a kiss to her lips as a yes.

#julien baker x reader #julien baker fluff #julien baker #lesbian #boygenius #boygenius x reader #boygenius fanfic

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chelemlem · 3 months

Note

oooh what kind of things do you bake? I'd love to try them sometimes 💞 have a sweet day!!

hello anon!!!!! thank u for giving me an excuse to talk about BAKING

sooo just before covid i took a 3 week dessert course and kind of became obsessed??? during lockdown i used to watch tons & tons of videos on process nd technique instead of physically yaknow Doing Anything bc i hated the idea of ~wasting ingredients~ at my mediocre skill level which looking back was an insane approach but i kinddd of think it helped bc when i started making things more regularly the improvement was p quick !!

my fave thing to bake is pastry (puff, choux, shortcrust, filo) so basically any kind of sweet tart/croissant/eclair/profiterole/pie ❤️ i also love a savoury curried egg or chicken puff but that's kind of a gamble bc what EYE think is an okay level of spice does not fly for everyone else. when it comes to large batches for a party or something i usually stick to sweet 2 be safe

pictured: fruit mascarpone tart → mango danish → tiny baby pains au chocolat <33

course i make cake and stuff too and it's FINE but i also know lots of ppl who are better at it lol. i'm pretty Terri at piping anything more complex than a simple swirl so when it comes to deco i tend to stick to covering the top with store-bought macarons/fruit and calling it a day. also maybe it's just me but full layer cakes are such a hassle to cut and store...... i adore a cutieful low commitment CUPCAKE tho <33

my order of preference when it comes to baking is pastry > cookies/brownies/cupcakes > layer cakes >>>>> bread. ugh BREAD i cannot figure her out but i Want to...... someday...

thing is bread is honestly such a delicate process where ur final product will flop unless the ratios are justé right and u proofed at something.000001 degrees and mercury is in retrograde whereas the rules of pastry are more relaxed and intuitive and involve doing vaguely unhinged things like holding fistfuls of ice cubes before you handle ur dough so the heat from ur palms doesn't melt the butter... it's also great for LAZY BITCHES LIKE ME because a "4 hour recipe minus baketime" sounds intense until u realize 3h15 mins of that is just chucking the thing in the fridge between rolls

choux au craquelin is probably what i make the most often. love a textured little cream puff!!! versatile and scalable and easy to transport... she's that girl truly

also today i remade the mango one i was telling k about and it turned out muchhh better with a chunkier filling yay 🥭

convinced i'm never going to get a pretty cross-section in my life but wtvr they still tasted good !!!

goals for the future:

bread but specifically this yummy pesto babka i had in february

creme brulee donut......... need her

crookie but less dry bc i've been kind of unimpressed by the ones i've had so far

something citrusy w/o relying on chocolate as a crutch

basically i really love baking! like experimenting/trying new recipes ofc but also just the process of consciously altering and improving upon stuff you've already made :')

and yeah feeding ppl is bonus <3 hope u have a good day too!!!

#sorry this got kind of long gkdjjk #thanks again for this ask anon it was fun!!!!#tbh with most things i do i kind of feel like a talentless hack just going thru the motions but #i've got a decent amount of pride when it comes to pastry #there's a ton i don't know/could improve but as it stands i think i'm pretty good ❤️#answered

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dreambigdreamz · 28 days

Text

Inside the brain of a writer

(me talking to myself)

the mental process of writing a smut fic

the usual warnings ofc proceed with caution.

wheee i’ve been reading some ahem hotd stuff ahem and i think i can pull off my very own as well 🌚🌚🌚

yass eomer and lothiriel’s wedding nighttt

actually no i’d die writing

for many reasons

julie write a sample for me please

should i just ai generate this

oh loth why on earth would you say that

quick, make her drown another flagon of wine to avoid the embarrassment

BAHAHAHA i’m 6k word count and not yet halfway guysss

NO BROTHER YOU CAN’T READ THIS

because lothiriel is undressing eomer 🫢

*hysterical giggles as the world dissipates internally*

what on earth am i saying to a 11-year-old

shit he’s taking up the discussion

he says eomer should be allowed to undress himself to show ‘manly’ independence

shut the f up kid you don’t know anything about the romance of unbuttoning and revealing the man’s body

“stahp ahaha i can’t imagine it i’d DIE”

*dies for three months before guilty sense kicks back your arse to continue working on the wip*

drag myself through the shit like it’s no big deal

eomer without armour 💗💗💗

eomer without shirt 👀🥹🫢🌚🤡

should i or should i not put a full description of his…

nope

KEEP IT POETIC NOT GRAPHIC

will there be a blowjob

but i won’t know how to describe how it tastes so no

functioning on the last single braincell

once read a headcanon saying eomer will give you no less than 3 o’s and i stand by that

is ‘reverberate’ smth to do with vibrations or vertebrates

his voice being deep and gruff his voice being deep and gruff his voice being deep and gruff HIS VOICE—

what does ‘convulse’ mean

could i maybe find a use for it to be included in the writing, even though i don’t know what it means?

i mean, i’ve seen it written but never bothered searching up

gets up in the middle of the night to search up thesaurus

“TREPIDATION” IS SUCH A NICE WORD inCLudE iT iN By aLL meAns

….if only i gave half the effort for my academics…..

if he gives her oral, remember to get him to wipe off his mouth before he kisses her again because

you don’t know what it tastes like

+ somewhat disgusting and shameful (ahh little purist me)

“did you finish your smut fic lol”

“haha nearly! was up till one am last night writing it” (i normally sleep at 8 pm)

“he’s penetrating her now ehehe”

*deletes last message*

keep your purist virgin opinions out of this and Let Them Have Fun!!!!

how long does it take a candle to burn out

“would you like to read what i have gotten so far 👉👈”

no lothiriel would never think the act “sickening” KEEP YOURSELF OUT OF THIS

YES YES YES KEEP THE CLASSICAL ROMANCE ALIVE YOU ARE SUCH A POETIC WRITER DID ANYBODY TELL YOU HAHA 😇

but also the tension, don’t undo the tension all at once

DONT LET THEM FALL IN LOVE OVER ONE NIGHT WHAT SOAKING IDIOT ARE YOU

it takes time, it has to take time

so no

make it an awkward messy ordeal

you are a most horrifying author, you deserve to go to hell three times over WHAT WAS THAT FOR

i know

how do i describe what his hands are doing

like one is doing smth while the other is another—

or keep it simple?

how big and strong he is x300 sentences

he’s gotta have big brown eyes / be able to satisfy / he’s gotta be big and strong / enough to turn me onnnnnn (the angelic choir version please)

his eyes turning into dark orbs 👀 a glint of dangerous light ahahahahahahahahah

*descends into madness*

god save my soul

no no Snow you got it wrong bby

there are no whores and sluts here

be horny without guilty

you might actually make some money out of writing this one day

big ambitions >>>

in the meantime enjoy yourself

but seriously dude

wouldn’t he crush her bones if he collapsed on top of her

REWRITE EVERYTHING

first go and scroll through tumblr again

and spiral down into the sinful one-shots and take inspo from the masters

BUT THE AGONYYYYY (cuz u barely crawl out alive after these little visits onto that side of tumblr)

or shld i just post it and pretend nothing’s the matter and let it be and delete this entire post on making a fuss out of as tiny a thing as writing smut

fuck it i’ll go solve some mathematics

p.s. make eomer considerate at all times

p.p.s. you need to seriously decide between making lothiriel either an innocent angel or a coldhearted bitch MAKE UP YOUR MIND

because i feel for the poor guy if she keeps acting hot n cold like this

woe is me, the writer

i declare nobody suffers it as i do

but what if there was a toad in the bed as a prank from amrothos

#writerslife #writer stuff #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #ao3 writer #writeblr #im going insane #eomer x lothiriel #eomer eadig #lord of the rings #fanfiction #my god #smut #dreambigdreamz

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k-evans-reads · 1 year

Text

In Living Color

Chapter 18

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 2,618

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

January 7th, 2022

‘Can you call me when you have time? I need to talk to you.’

Chris’ brows furrowed as he saw Nat’s notification pop up on his laptop, leaving him with little to go off of as the simple message disappeared just as quickly as it’d appeared. He frowned as he thought over the message, hands itching to at least text her back, but before he could, Mark joined the Zoom call, his smiling face doing little to distract Chris as they prepped for the quick call with the others involved with the project.

Nat’s text lingered in his mind throughout the whole call, never leaving the forefront of his focus even as they planned out the next several months’ worth of interviews for the website. He’d only been back in Boston for a few days, having gone back to Los Angeles for a few days with their whole group after skiing in Washington over the last chunk of the holiday. Chris had planned on staying in Los Angeles a bit longer, but he had quickly found out that Nat’s suggestion had proved to be a good one when he realized just how busy she was with two projects overlapping at once.

What had been a manageable schedule for her in the summer and fall, allowing them to spend nearly every evening and weekend together interruption-free, had been spun on its head. Nat was in her office from early in the morning to late at night, barely pulling her attention off of work long enough to text Chris that she was too swamped to come over for dinner or make game night, and what little time they got with each other during the week was then reduced to only a quick kiss before bed, if he was lucky. Her point was true, that him being there would only stress her out more and force her to sacrifice something to make his presence worthwhile, and so with that in mind, he packed himself and Dodger back up and took a flight home the previous day.

But now with that ominous text looming in his mind, he couldn’t help but let his anxiety spiral, wondering what it could possibly mean. He hoped that it was just Nat feeling stressed and needing to process it or her asking when he was coming back to Los Angeles, but he knew deep down that it was something else otherwise she wouldn’t have asked to have this conversation over the phone versus just texting him about it as it popped in her brain…. Especially in the middle of her hectic work day. The minute his meeting was over and his laptop closed, he sat there for a long moment, debating on whether it was better to put off whatever bad news this would be until later or if he should just get it over with.

After a nervous few minutes, he grabbed his phone and clicked on her name, his leg anxiously bouncing as he sat at the table waiting for her to pick up before he directly asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Is this a good time? Like do you have a few minutes?” She asked Chris, her voice a bit distracted as she moved around on the other end of the call.

“Yeah I just finished my meeting,” he assured her, his brows furrowed as he listened and heard a door shut on her end. “What’s going on, Nat?”

She hesitated, quiet for a moment before she began, “I just um, I wanted to talk about Palm Springs…”

Chris stared up at the ceiling above him, eyes moving over the smooth white paint on it. He had a sinking feeling inside of him, one that had settled in his stomach nearly an hour and a half ago when she’d texted him. “...You can’t go, can you?” He asked her, voice low and soft.

“I technically can but I just don’t see how I’m going to be able to,” Nat confessed, apologetic as Chris’ lips downturned and he listened to her explanation. “That week is the official last week of Lightyear and then I also have meetings with the higher ups for Inside Out so it’s going to be really busy already let alone with me taking off on Wednesday afternoon to go to Palm Springs.”

Although Chris knew where this was headed from the first moment she mentioned Palm Springs, it didn’t take away the sting of disappointment. He had been looking forward to the little getaway with Nat, just the two of them, before he was launched into thousands of miles separating them as he went from filming to press and then more filming for the rest of the year. It'd been planned from the moment he'd gotten his filming schedule for the early part of the year and had seen that the first week started on Valentine's Day. He and Nat were looking forward to hiding away from the world to celebrate the holiday early together, just before work pulled them apart. That was going to be their last bit of quality time together, not a thing in the world distracting them before he had to leave and now it was taken away.

The line was quiet for a moment before Nat’s tentative voice asked, “Chris? Are you upset?”

“No, of course not,” he rushed to reassure her. He was dismayed of course by the change in plans, and upset that they wouldn’t get that time just to themselves, but he knew Nat was needed in Los Angeles… maybe a little too much. “I mean, sure I’m disappointed but I understand.”

“This is just crazy right now with both projects overlapping,” she admitted to him, and he could hear her on the other end of the line as she began typing at her computer, a chiming notification sounding to alert her to a new email.

“Nat, if I’m bein’ honest, I’m a little worried about you,” Chris began delicately. He knew she’d been working almost non-stop since Monday, only leaving to eat whatever cold leftovers Chris had packaged away for her from what was supposed to be a shared dinner, then to fall into bed and repeat the cycle the following day. And if he was being honest, he wasn’t even sure she’d done any of that the previous night while he and Dodger flew home. He had no way to know if she’d eaten, or gotten a solid night’s sleep, or if she’d drank enough water and wasn’t surviving off of over-caffeinated cups of cold brew. It wasn’t sustainable, and his concern was evident as he asked, “Are you doing alright with all of this?”

“I’m fine,” she brushed off the concern, her voice sounding distant as she continued typing. Chris pushed Dodger’s wet nose off of his lap as he listened to Nat dismissively explain, “It’s just until mid February, and then things will be better.”

But his frown grew deeper as he listened to her, not seeing an end to this workload. She was moving from one project to the next, one with a lot more moving parts than this, including the initial stages. “Are you going to be able to make it until then, though? That’s a long time,” he tried to tell her.

“I can handle it, I know how to do my job,” she defensively shut him down, her words sending alarm signals to Chris’ brain. He knew that. He knew she was amazing at what she did, but she was to a fault. And all of this career-driven stress and running on empty was the exact opposite of what she’d shared as her goal the previous month, wanting to give herself more time outside of the Disney Campus to dedicate to self-care, to fill her bucket by creating more outside of work. But now she was barely even stepping foot outside of her own office, let alone having time to develop her own creative passions and delve more into her own personal wants.

“I know you do… that didn’t come out the way I wanted it to,” Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. His eyes watched Dodger as the dog looked out the window at the large yard and the sunset before he made his way over to his bed and laid down. Chris’ voice was quiet as he admitted to her, “I’m just concerned about these long hours.”

“It sucks, but it’s temporary so I can do it,” Nat stubbornly insisted. She sighed deeply before he heard her computer chime with another email’s arrival. “It’s been a big deal for me to be the lead character designer for Buzz and now for Inside Out so I don’t want to throw that away in this final stretch.”

“I get that, I just love you and I get worried about you, ya know,” Chris shrugged, feeling helpless all the way out in Massachusetts as she ran herself ragged back in California.

“I know you do and it means a lot to me,” she assured him, her voice sounding much more honest than it had only moments ago. She sighed, hesitating before she murmured, “I’m just sorry about Palm Springs.”

“It’s okay Nattie, don’t stress about it,” Chris reassured her. He knew she felt awful, canceling the trip that’d been her birthday present from him, but he knew she had to look out for herself. Having that pressure of the trip looming over her and not wanting to have anything to do for work that weekend likely would’ve hurt her more had she not canceled, and he had to be a little proud of her for recognizing that much. But he was disappointed, and he could admit that much. “Maybe we could do something, a little weekend trip or something like that one weekend coming up when you aren’t as busy.”

He could almost see the sad smile on her face as she quietly admitted, “I’d love to but I’m just not sure when that would be.”

“Okay… well just let me know,” he whispered, struggling to know just what to think at all of this. He missed her, he missed her more than anything each time they were separated, but right now… he was confused. He was worried. And he wasn’t sure how to help her, especially when she had all-but bitten his head off for a small sign of concern. “I really want to spend some time with you.”

“I know, I want to be with you too. Maybe you could come out in the middle of the month, I might not have to work as late in the evenings then,” she suggested, just as her typing resumed.

He nodded to himself, making a mental note to look at what he had scheduled then. “I’ll plan on that then,” he assured her.

“Okay, hey I’m sorry but I really need to go. I have so much work I need to get done,” she whispered, her voice back to sounding distant as she kept working.

“Alright,” he whispered, biting his lower lip as he listened to her.

“Chris?” She asked, almost at the very last moment. “...I really love you.”

He smiled at those words, feeling some confidence and hope again. “I love you too Nattie. So fuckin’ much,” he promised her.

And Chris knew how painfully true that was. He loved her more than anything which is why moments apart made this so much harder. His brain kept jumping back and forth between feeling the frustration at Nattie prioritizing her work over having time for their relationship and then feeling hypocritical with his own job taking him away for sometimes months on end. Chris really had been looking forward to that long weekend away and at first thought maybe his frustration was more at that than anything, but once he had gotten up move over to the couch where he could scratch Dodger more easily, he started sorting through his thoughts a bit more and realized that wasn’t it at all. At the heart of his frustration was concern for his Nattie.

All that was happening just felt… off.

After her art show she had talked about wanting to pursue more of her own creative passions, not having her whole creative career being created for Pixar. But now here she was nearly giving up her whole life for her job and although he knew that it was true what she said, that it was temporary, part of him wondered if it really was. He had come to see how conflicted Nat could feel when it came to her career. She was so different from her family, not being the cerebral career women her sisters were working in healthcare and tech. Nat was creative and sensitive, with so much passion and emotion in everything she did. He knew how much her single father had given up to send her to art school and how hard Nat had worked at Pixar to move her way up and when he even thought about it, he was so fucking proud of her. But there was something about this that just didn’t feel sustainable or even quite right for Nat.

He remembered being in those meetings last year and just falling in love with the way Nat spoke about things being visually communicated in Lightyear and how good she was at figuring out how to convey emotion and stories through art. She was practically gushing with passion every time she spoke about an aspect of her job and although he knew that she still loved it, most things recently had been more about what she felt she needed to do for her job or about the path she felt pressured for her career to go.

Chris felt like there was a piece of his exuberant and uninhibited artist that was falling into the corporate part of her job and although he knew from being in a creative industry himself that some of those things went hand in hand, he didn’t want to see her throw all of it away. She’d shared with him before how for so long she felt like there were so many things wrong with her personality from wearing every emotion on her sleeve to not wanting success in the normal sense that society viewed it, but here she was devoting herself completely to her job and taking on more than he thought any one person would be able to handle. He knew Nat felt like she had something to prove, in his observation more to herself than anyone, that she could make art a worthwhile endeavor and wanted to prove she could handle all of this, not realizing that it didn’t make a difference to anyone if she couldn’t.

He knew Nat was determined to a fault, that she’d never put anything before her commitments and promises to others, but he was hopeful he could open her eyes a bit more. She’d seemed to have a realization in December, and despite slipping back into the grind of her career, he knew that deep down, they’d get through this. He’d already been a bit worried about how much of a toll this year could take on them, between his schedules with three projects and two press tours and Nat’s busy calendar at Disney, and that this trip was supposed to give them both some time to connect and be together before that all started. But despite losing that weekend together, he himself was determined, not to solve all of Nat’s problems overnight, but to brainstorm on how to help her and most of all, support her through every step of the way.

A/N: We'll be back next week with a new chapter!

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