#timothée chalamet oneshots

[babyflorencee]

Stop taking your hands out of mine

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

'Boys don't cry' by The Cure played silently from the beat-up speaker that was sitting on top of my desk. I was sitting down on my bed with my boyfriend Timothée, who was laying down in between my legs, holding up the book 'The Body' by Stephen King as we read it together. One of his hands was flipping through the pages while the other was enlaced with mine. Timothée and I started dating a little more than four months ago, and ever since we made it official, he has been at my house almost every day. And quite frankly, I'm almost positive that he's at my house more than his own. But I honestly didn't care. I enjoyed his company more than anything.

One word everyone uses to describe our relationship is 'perfect'. We rarely fought and when we did, it was always a petty argument like, 'which cookie is best.' Everyone who has seen us together, all say we are "a match made from heaven," which makes me happy knowing people liked me and Timothée together.

We read a few more pages until I heard Timothée sigh rather loudly, as he closed the book and flipping over so that his face was nuzzling into my neck. I took my hand out of his, brushing some loose strands of his long brown hair out of his eyes. He let out a whinny groan, taking my hand back into his.

After a few minutes, he started to close his eyes, pressing little kisses all over my neck and jaw, making butterflies erupt in my stomach. I let out a yawn, looking down at Timothée. Seeing him peacefully sleeping started to make me tired. I took my hand out of his for the second time, now closing my eyes. I was almost asleep when I felt him jab his index finger into my side, waking me up. I opened my eyes, seeing Timothée with a very unhappy, almost annoyed expression. "Stop taking your hand out of mine," he said with a pouting face. He rolled his eyes, taking my hand back in his, except this time he held it tight.

"Sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes once again.

After a while of silence, I assumed he was sleeping until he spoke up. "I love you," he said, but because his head was buried in the crook of my neck, it came out muffled.

"I love you too," I said, with a smile plastered on my face before wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me, and resting one of my hands on the top of his head, lightly holding his face close to my chest.

"Night babe," I whispered, repeatedly kissing his hair, as he just quietly hums.

[redskull199987]

Concubine

Paul Atreides x fem!reader Part II

Word Count:1.6k

Warnings:!SPOILERS! for Dune II, canon typical violence

Summary:"This princess will carry his name and yet, she will be less than a Concubine. She will never spend a moment of tenderness with the man she is tied to. But we who are called concubines - in the eyes of history we will be wives…"

Part I / Masterlist

She was pretty. You had to give her that. Your gaze closely followed each and every move that the Princess made. You knew that her head must have been chaotic at the moment, going through every possible scenario, how this situation could end. And you also knew that her first and last goal of this day would be to save her father’s life and secure the continuous reign of her bloodline.

But from the way she looked at you, you knew that Princess Irulan was aware of the fact that if she did marry Paul, she’d never get to share a bed with him. Would never bear his heirs or even receive an ounce of warmth from him.

She knew that even though you'd officially be Paul’s concubine, his loyalty would lie with you. And only you.

Chani’s hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. It reminded you that before it ever came to that, Paul would have to beat the Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.

You took a deep breath in, as you glanced over to the Harkonnen. You had heard stories of him back on Caladan. Stories of his thirst for blood and his enjoyment of Pain. His reputation preceded him, but his appearance clearly matched it. He looked almost eerily as he stepped forward, proposing to fight for the Emperor and defined his honor.

A small frown appeared on your face, when Paul accepted the proposal. Too fast for your liking. You heard Chani sigh next to you. You looked over to the Fremen. The Woman who had become like a sister to you, who had taught you the ways of her people. You remembered it as clear as day, when she had first told you, that you’d earned her trust.

It was the day you had joined the Fedaykin among their ranks, The day you became one of them.

You were high on adrenaline. You didn’t know how else you could’ve explained it. You didn’t know how else you would’ve pulled it off. Your eyes wandered over the many Corpses of the Harkonnen Warriors, that were supposed to protect their Harvester. Almost like in slow motion, you raised your hand, your fingertips wandering over the specks of blood that littered your face. You knew it wasn’t your own blood, but the thrill that the situation itself brought you, was indescribable. 

You needed a few moments to fully return to the present. The Spice in the Air was clouding your senses, making it feel like you witnessed everything merely from the eyes of a spectator and not as one of the Fremen who ever so fiercely attacked a Spice Harvester of the Harkonnen.

The Explosion pulled you out of your Trance.

You spun around, spotting Chani and Paul. They were fighting off a few Harkonnen warriors. But you quickly realized that Paul wouldn’t be able to defeat them all alone. You’ve never felt slower than in this moment, when you started running towards him. It felt like the Sand was pulling you down, seeking to swallow you whole.

But you didn’t let it. A scream left your lips, as you dashed forward, deeply burying your Crysknife in the back of a Harkonnen Warrior that was about to attack Chani from behind. You sank to the ground together with his Corpse, as Chani spun around, her eyes widening as she realized what had happened.

Only seconds passed, as you looked up to her, Anger and Determination all, that was on your mind. Chani gave you a small nod before Paul finally reached the two of you again.

“Re-load!”, Chani yelled at him and he quickly did as told, pulling out another round of Ammo, reloading Chanis Missile Launcher. 

You glanced past the Mainstay that the three of you were hiding behind. When you spotted the Ornithopter in the air, you gulped harshly.

“The shields only lower when he’s shooting!”, You shouted towards your companions. When you locked eyes with Paul, you immediately realized that the two of you had the same Plan.“We’ll distract him!”, Paul explained to Chani who gave him a court nod as she understood.

“Wait for our sign!”, You yelled, as you got ready to sprint over to the next Mainstay to distract the Sniper.

“Ready?”, Paul asked as he got into position next to you.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”, You grinned, despite the Seriousness of the Situation.

You took in one last deep breath, knowing very well that it could be your last one, before you felt Paul tap your shoulder, signaling you to start running.

Almost immediately, your instincts kicked in and it felt like you were a spectator again, watching how your feet carried you through the hot sand. You saw and heard the shots that rang in the Air as you sprinted through the Desert.

“Shit!”, You heard Paul yell next to you and you quickly realized what he meant, when you saw the Mainstay in front of you start to move further away from you.

“Run!!”, You shouted, as if it wasn’t obvious. 

You knew that from that moment and the point where you reached your destination, only seconds passed but it felt like hours as you ran through the sand. Mere moments before you reached the safety of the Mainstay, you heard Paul yell at Chani to launch the Missile.

 You were knocked over by the Force of the Explosion as the Ornithopter burst apart into the air, signaling to the Fremen that were hidden on the cliffs nearby that they could launch their attack on the Harvester, destroying it entirely. 

“Hurry!”, Paul yelled, as he pulled you to your feet and back over to Chani who was already making her way towards the nearby Dune. You had to disappear in the Desert again, before more Harkonnen would come and attack you.

That night you sat with the other Fedaykin, drank and laughed with them as Paul and you joined their ranks as respectable Warriors of the Desert. You received your Fremen name and you realized that your Heart, your soul and your entire being was with them now. You would fight for them as long as you breathed, would even go to death for them.

And Chani seemed to realize it too.

The young woman had always acted cold towards you, but when you saved her life on that day, risking your own for hers, she realized just how much of a loyal friend and fighter lay in you. From that day on, You knew that you could always count on each other.

“He will survive…He will win.”, Chani whispered into your ear and squeezed your shoulder as you watched how Paul and Feyd-Rautha got ready for their Fight. As the Gaze of the Na-Baron crossed yours, you sucked in a deep breath. What you saw in those eyes scared you.

It was a thirst for Blood and Power that you had only seen in Paul as he drank the Water of life.

You quickly looked over to Paul, giving him a firm nod, signaling him that you were on his side. His eyes told you more than words ever could. It was a silent promise. A promise to come back to you, to survive this battle and to put his plan into action.

It was a Promise that he would become the Emperor.

“I must not fear”, You mumbled to yourself, as the fight began,”Fear is the Mindkiller.” 

Your eyes followed every little move of Paul as well as Feyd-Rautha. The two men were equal fighters, both born to be the One. But only one of them would win, only one of them would come out alive.

“Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.”, You whispered, as you watched Paul get knocked over the head, Blood trickling down his temple,”I will face my fear.”

“Is she your pet?”, Feyd-Rautha mocked as he gave Paul a moment to collect himself. The Na-Baron grinned wickedly and pointed his knife at you. You paid him no mind, as your eyes only rested on Paul, silently telling him not to let himself be provoked.

“I will permit it to pass over me and through me”, you mouthed as Paul got up and the Fight commenced anew. 

Your breath hitched as Feyd-Rautha swiftly disarmed Paul, ramming the Crsyknife into his ribs. A guttural groan left Paul's lips as the two fighters stood close to each other. Wheezing breaths were the only noise to be heard in the room.

“And when it has gone past I will turn to the inner eye and see it’s Path”, You whispered desperately, the Mantra being the only thing that kept you from panicking.

All your senses were focused on the two men in front of you as you witnessed how Paul silently pulled the Crysknife out of his Body, getting ready to attack. Feyd-Rautha barely had time to react as the holy knife of Shai-Hulud pierced his armor and therefore ended his life by the hand of the new Emperor. 

“Where the Fear has gone there will be nothing”, You mouthed as Paul got to his feet again. His steps seemed to carry the weight of the Universe as he walked over to the old Emperor, demanding him to kneel in front of his new Master.

Reluctantly the old man did as told, as he accepted his defeat. Princess Irulans gaze slowly wandered to you, as her father fell to his knees.

“Only I will remain.”

[saltwaterburns]

WHY IS NOT FINDING FEYD RAUTHA HOT AN UNPOPULAR OPINION ARE YOU PEOPLE OKAY???? /lovingly but also freaked out

[eu-nicola]

"Between visions." Paul Atreides x Princess Irulan (different ending)

summary: In a world of political intrigue and prophecies, Paul, Irulan, and Chani find themselves caught in a triangle of love and betrayal. As Paul grapples with his visions of the future and his relationship with Irulan transforms, Chani clings to hope for a family. As tensions escalate and secrets are revealed, the three struggle to find their place in the world.

warnings: eithout correcting, loss of a child, manipulation perhaps, and I think nothing else, if I forget something let me know.

From the moment Paul took Princess Irulan's hand, things certainly didn't improve, at least not for the princess. True, she was part of her husband's council, but what good did it serve her if her life was miserable and devoid of a shred of love or even attention to console her?

Paul's promises to Chani still echoed in Irulan's thoughts, whether she wanted them to or not. The princess was strong in mind and soul, that was what still kept her standing, and what was even more important was that she was very intelligent. She took all of this in stride, refusing to be affected by the fact that she was destined for a loveless marriage and without children.

Paul, on the other hand, began to have visions involving Irulan. Not just any visions, but rather of the princess with a swollen belly. Paul's interactions since then were more cautious and suspicious, simply from the thought that Irulan's belly might be carrying another man's child, perhaps an enemy's.

He didn't want to dwell on the issue any further and simply pushed it aside, but at the same time, he couldn't help but pay attention. Or at least that's what he wanted to do. The visions actually tormented him with possible futures, especially those in which Irulan's face reflected joy and wonder as she held a child, whose eyes gleamed with the same golden intensity as his own.

From that moment on, Paul made sure to make Irulan's life miserable, no matter how bad it made her feel, but he never planned to have children with her, ever. The only mother of his children would be Chani, the only woman he loved would be the true mother of his children.

Fearful of the implications of his offspring, Paul retreated into a distant and disdainful attitude towards Irulan. This distancing only fueled resentment between them, creating an emotional chasm that threatened to destroy the princess's loyalty. The princess sank into dark resentment. Amid whispers of the court, she pondered plans to weaken her position and undermine her confidence in Chani. Secret intrigues were woven in the palace corridors as the princess explored the possibility of winning the loyalty of those surrounding Paul. Jealousy and envy drove her to consider conspiring against him and Chani, seeking to undermine the connection that seemed unbreakable. An aura of betrayal hung over the princess, who delved into the shadows to reach her own dark objectives.

Despite the dark conspiracy weaving in her mind, the princess could not escape the internal conflict that enveloped her. Among the whispers of betrayal, an echo reminded her of the love she still felt for Paul, albeit distorted by ambition. Every step toward conspiracy was marked by hesitation, a shadow of doubt wavering in her heart.

The idealized love for Paul was perhaps even greater than her desires for betrayal. The princess sought a balance between her dark desires and the fragments of affection that resisted fading away completely.

•••••••••••••••••••

Paul, lost in his own world as the wind gently blew, delved into the depths of his visions, still trying to decipher the future. However, a shroud of uncertainty loomed, challenging his prescient abilities. In his heart, he began to doubt the certainties that had once seemed unshakable.

Days later, when the princess had vanished from his sight and retreated into her own world, Chani, in a moment of solitude, approached Paul with news that would change his beliefs about destiny. The bond between them had borne fruit, and she carried within her the gift of life. Paul, surprised by the news, momentarily thought that perhaps all this time his visions had been wrong and that what he desired was actually going to come true. That's what he wanted.

Poor Irulan had no choice but to remain silent in the face of the news, not even having words to say; she simply accepted the fate she had once already accepted.

The light in Paul's eyes intensified as he interacted with Chani, and his laughter, a rare presence until then, became more frequent. This change even extended to his relationship with Irulan. Impending fatherhood softened the sharp edges of the intricate political web that surrounded them.

The princess took every part that Paul offered her to feel complete, no matter what it was, even politics, something she truly loved and enjoyed doing.

As political tensions and future expectations converged in the Palace of Arrakis, the relationship between Irulan and Paul underwent a subtle metamorphosis. Moments of shared humor and complicity arising from Chani's pregnancy slowly transformed into a deeper connection between Irulan and Paul.

On a starry night, with the dunes illuminated by the moonlight, Paul and Irulan shared a singular encounter. Far from the political intrigues and responsibilities weighing on their shoulders, they found themselves in a quiet corner of the palace. The conversations that were once only held in council now flowed with an authenticity neither had experienced before.

The physical proximity between them became palpable, charged with unexpected energy. Comfortable silences intertwined with meaningful glances, revealing layers of mutual understanding that went beyond their predetermined roles. In that moment, Paul and Irulan realized the humanity they shared, regardless of the circumstances that had brought them together.

Under the cover of night, Paul and Irulan, propelled by a newly discovered emotional connection, shared an experience that defied expectations and the constraints of their world. A night that, in its intimacy, marked the beginning of something unexpected.

From Irulan's perspective, the night was an encounter with the naked truth of emotions. The walls she had built to protect herself from the complexities of love and vulnerability slowly crumbled. Each prolonged gaze was a step beyond the predefined limitations of her relationship with Paul. The physical closeness was an echo of the emotional connection that was developing, and in the stillness of the night, Irulan found herself contemplating the possibility of a different future than she had imagined.

For Paul, however, the night brought a profound revelation. Irulan's company, which had previously been confined to political duties and formalities, transformed into a source of comfort and understanding. The princess's warm laughter and sincere conversations were like a breath of fresh air amidst the intricate web of his responsibilities. He felt like he was betraying everything he wanted. But in that moment, as strange as it felt, he enjoyed the company of his wife.

The calm that had enveloped the night abruptly dissipated the next morning when Paul, engulfed in a mixture of confusion and anxiety, decided to withdraw early. His thoughts, usually sharp and prescient, became entangled in the uncertainty unleashed by the previous night. Without explanations or farewells, Paul departed, leaving Irulan alone with the morning shadows.

Hours later, Irulan, bewildered by Paul's absence and not fully understanding the reason behind his sudden departure, learned the tragic news. Chani, the bearer of new life, had lost the baby.

The devastating news enveloped the palace air with a veil of sadness. In their grief and confusion, Paul, prey to the irrationality of mourning, found a target for his frustration: Irulan. In his affliction, he blamed Irulan for the disconnect he felt between his visions and reality, a connection that, in his mind, could have altered the course of events.

Irulan, surprised by the unfair accusation, found herself caught in Paul's emotional storm. The tragedy had triggered a series of events that defied any logic, and while Chani mourned the loss of her child, the relationships between Irulan and Paul became fragile, shrouded in the pain and weight of unfounded guilt.

As the days passed, the relationship between Paul and Irulan grew increasingly tense. The shadows of accusation and loss cast a dark cloud over their connection, eclipsing the moments they had once shared. Miscommunication and distrust erected insurmountable barriers.

At the height of their estrangement, the princess found herself facing news that would completely change everything. She learned that she was pregnant. The uncertainty of the child's future added to the burden of her fractured relationship with Paul.

Upon confessing the news to Paul, the room filled with a heavy silence. The revelation unleashed a storm of emotions in both, as they faced the decisions they now had to make. The life growing in Irulan's belly became an unbreakable bond between them, despite the challenges they faced as a couple.

The news of the pregnancy acted as a catalyst, forcing Paul and Irulan to confront the complications of their relationship more directly. The weight of past accusations momentarily faded, making room for deep reflection on the meaning of life and the crucial decisions they had to make.

For her part, Irulan experienced a mixture of fear and hope. The responsibility of bringing a new life into the world forced her to confront her own dilemmas. The life growing inside her served as a constant reminder that all of this shouldn't have happened, yet it did.

Though content with this, the days of pregnancy passed in silence. Paul's absence, immersed in his own struggles and political responsibilities, left her to face the emotional and physical challenges of pregnancy alone. The loneliness became palpable in the silent nights and in the moments when doubts and fears enveloped her.

Although Irulan immersed herself in writing and reflection to fill the emotional voids, the lack of emotional support became a constant burden. The absence of a support network affected her maternal experience, leading her to question the decisions that led her down this solitary path.

Over time, the visions Paul had about Irulan had become reality. When the day came, Irulan, accompanied by the silent murmur of palace medical staff, gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. The room resonated with the emotional tension that hung in the air, while life flourished amidst the shadows of the past.

The little one, wrapped in the warmth of blankets, bore an astonishing resemblance to Paul. His presence in the room illuminated the space, dissipating the shadows that had darkened the path to this moment. Every familiar feature, from the deep eyes to the strands of dark hair, testified to Paul's legacy in the new life that had come into the world.

Irulan, holding the baby in her arms, found herself captivated by the expression of innocence on his face. The connection between mother and child transcended the complications of the past, and in that moment, she plunged into unconditional love that illuminated her own face, reflecting hope and the possibility of a different future.

••••••••••••••••

With the passage of time, Paul, facing the responsibilities of his office and the prescient visions that continued to guide his path, made a painful but inevitable decision to end his relationship with Chani. The deep connection they shared was overshadowed by political decisions and his life.

Irulan, always on the periphery of Paul's life, found herself transformed into the main companion in his life. The reconciliation born at the birth of their first child evolved over time. Paul, after overcoming the shadows of the past, found in Irulan a solid support and genuine connection.

Together, Paul and Irulan decided to expand their family, welcoming more children who filled the palace halls with laughter and joy. Each new birth represented an opportunity for redemption and the building of a united family. Though power and political intrigues persisted, the home Paul and Irulan built became a refuge.

As the family grew, Paul found in Irulan not only his life companion but someone to share joys and sorrows with, and a loving mother to his children.

Life led Paul down paths that transformed his feelings towards Chani. The pressures of leadership and constant political struggles created emotional distances between them. Responsibilities created a chasm, and political reality overshadowed the light of love that once flourished between them.

Chani, in turn, found in her loneliness and lack of emotional connection the need to seek comfort elsewhere. The emotional distance from Paul led her to explore new connections, and eventually, she fell in love with someone else. The search for understanding and affection led her to a relationship that filled the emotional void that persisted in her life.

The severing of ties between Paul and Chani was not simply a consequence of individual decisions but a complex dance of circumstances that life presented to them. Political designs and the inevitabilities of power transformed the nature of their love, leading them down separate paths.

Thus, amidst intrigue and change, both Paul and Chani found themselves on paths where life, with its unpredictable twists, led them to seek new forms of love and connection, leaving behind a story that was once the center of their lives.

Lastly, Irulan, far from being just a distant witness to Paul's life, became the protagonist of her own destiny. Redemption and love intertwined in her story, demonstrating that, despite some difficult moments after suffering, the good part always comes in the end. Both were committed to building a shared future, and so it was until the end of their days.

[xalicitie]

Take Care of Me — Paul Maud’dib Atreides (smut)

Leila is Chani’s trusted crony. While Chani and Paul share a passionate and intimate love for one another, as Paul embraces his role as Lisan Al-Gaib, Chani encounters detrimental trouble in dealing with his new persona and thus turns to Leila as a channel for her frustration. Leila has been Paul’s own medic for a day, and returning to his chambers to treat an opened wound, she takes her frustration out on him. And yet, she finds out he’s frustrated, too.

The full story will be posted on AO3–HAHA. Just kidding. I have no fucking motivation anymore and it’s killing me. If I manage to fill in a few scenes on this story, then it will make it onto AO3. The full story starts a few scenes ahead of this.

Also, this is based on the movies. I’m reading book 1 now, but I wrote this pretty early on. A lot of the stuff probably won’t make sense in the Dune world. If u have a problem suck my cokkk

Isn’t it obvious I like medic smut scenarios

Also if u want the ending of this tell me! idk if the Dune fandom will welcome me here🙏

I enter Paul Maud’Dib Atreides’ chambers for my second round—and yet within my circumstance, and the unfortunate display of events that have fallen into place, instead of knocking, I barge through.

I find Usul confined to his bed, blood gushing through his white garment.

“Leave.” I pronounce with an impatient tongue. The nurses at Usul’s side take a look at me, and with silent agreement, rush off and through his grand doors.

Usul dons a blank countenance, slightly embellished with the graze of concern. More prominently, however, I can see physical pain in his eyes. I try not to let him uncover that this deeply perturbs me.

“Now why in the fucking world would you do this to yourself?” I demand. My footsteps boom through the lifeless room, my lips stiff with inhibition.

He sits there for a second, gaping up at me slightly, plainly confused.

“Excuse me?”

I know this is the Messiah. And I understand that he could have me thrown off the planet for speaking to him in such a wretched way. But with this, I uncover in myself boiling rebellion.

“Damnit, don’t gape at me.” I snarl a bit. I can feel my indignation running wild, through a pounding chest and through my mindless mouth.

“Sit up.”

He does, silently. I’m grateful.

“Take this off.”

I gesture to his shirt. He does this, too.

I come around with a cloth. Staring down at him, I survey the image—he’s bleeding out. Quickly, at that. He messed up his stomach wound considerably. His toned stomach is scaled with blood, a red, filthy gash on his left side. My heartbeat chases a pounding rhythm. Holy shit: he might fucking die.

My inhibition snaps.

“Nevermind. Screw it. Lay against the headrest. Be careful, you damned fool.”

Usul groans as he backs into his bed. “I was told I was getting nursed, not chastised.” He seethes through a set of clamped teeth.

“Yes, well, you managed to ruin your binding. I can see it took an incredible amount of effort, too.” I climb into the bed. Barring off any uncomfortable undertones, I crawl towards him.

“Yet I also don’t need a fucking coach right now, Leila. I need a medic.” I feel his hot breath lingering in the air near; I snap my face towards his. His gaze is unwavering, and I can see his studying gaze, his brow twitching calculatingly.

I’m a frazzled mess—I can tell as my eyes twitch that’s it’s painfully obvious.

I flinch suddenly. My gaze wanders, and I find warm, masculine digits consuming mine.

“You need to stop shaking, damnit.”

His quiet yet pregnant words resonate with me and into my weak, distressed body. I fall still. With his palm against my aching fingers, I find the quickest respite.

“Focus. I will not die.”

“Did you prophesize that, hm?”

“No. I trust you.”

My eyes flutter shut. I inhale a tremulous breath. He’s right—I can’t work in my state right now. But if I want to do as much as merely stopping the bleeding, I’ll have to shift my attitude. Swiftly.

My mind doesn’t dare wander towards Chani. It would be custom for me to turn to her for strength, but the mental image of her mainly brings about animosity. Instead, I focus here, now—on Usul’s palpable heat, in his hands and in the heavy scent of his presence.

I take a moment. A moment, quietly finding my peace and my lost, inner instinct.

After many prolonged breaths, I sit up.

And I get to work.

“This is going to hurt. You might want to lay down.”

Silently, he obeys me.

My skills succumb to my mind. I work intensely—I dab the cloth into his thick blood, which stains his alabaster skin. As I work, a few meager thoughts roam my mind: I doubt no Fremen wouldn’t pay their wage for a touch of his blood, I ponder. Being so intimate with his mortality brings everything into scope; Usul has a power only rivaled by Emperors, Kings, and Queens, however any hit can be fatal. Without Paul, the Fremen lose their symbol and their incentive. But, well, no pressure.

On the other hand, I’m notably grateful for his compliance. And I’m even further impressed with his determination too, in refusing to speak a single word nor a mere sound. As I uncover my own tenets, and I come out of Chani’s shadow, I’m starting to realize.. my favor isn’t entirely for Chani.

A bowl of water arrives with a nurse. Thanking her and sending her off, I near Usul again.

“Does this have to do with Chani?”

As I begin to clean his wound, I talk pointedly, inquiry woven into my tone.

His voice comes eventually, but he groans when I pour the sacred water directly onto his gash. His bony fingers twitch and attach onto the mattress, grasping lightly.

“-Did she tell you anything?” He utters begrudgingly.

“Mhm.” I answer.

“Is that why you’re in a mood?”

Water pools onto his stomach, which is hard with muscles, rising and falling with his trained breaths. It slips onto the bed, wetting it gradually by the second.

“I questioned you first.” I demand.

I can smell his eyes rolling a mile away.

“Yes. I attempted .. reaching her. She’s more stubborn now than I recall.”

I nod involuntarily. Stubborn was a nice word.

“So, you’re not her minion anymore?”

My focused brows shoot up. I drive my mien into his.

“Do you want me to screw up your wound?”

“Leila.”

Trickles and little indications of nerves meander through my body. I realize I’ve paused my work, and with a surge of purpose, I return.

“I don’t dislike the change. You’re finding yourself.”

I bite my gum. “So I have been a nobody until now?”

“No.”

I draw a cloth, lathered with soap around the borders of his wound. He mumbles something, maybe a curse, before speaking again.

“It’s gratifying to see you.. not so impressionable.”

I really do hate being timid and gullible sometimes. Thus, the reason Chani’s been such a magnetic force of my life. She has stiff, ardent opinions, and a defensive stance. Her caution keeps her ready to strike.

But I know this persona is who I am. Even now, with a callous expression discoloring my soft features, I understand—this isn’t me.

“Well, I can’t take care of you forever.” I speak with disdain, brushing away my probing thoughts. “Whatever you do in your pastime isn’t my business, but if you manage to break through this dressing a second time, for whatever reason, I’m getting another nurse to manage your carelessness.”

I hear a smile. “Yes ma’am.”

“Do you know what it is to be a nurse?” I begin. “No. You fight, and you thrust your blade at any living thing. We clean up. We witness the rubble of war, and we tend to the malignant products of violence.” I set the now empty bowl aside, my eyes cast far into the monochrome walls.

“You can’t afford to be careless. You’re the Messiah, Usul. And I surely cannot, either. I mess up, and you’re blood’s on my hands.” I pause. “In this very moment, we’re linked—so I just want you to do your part, as I do mine.”

“So I’m the source of your ire.”

My face scrunches into a frazzled frustration. “Did you hear anything I just said?

“I won’t mess up again. You can trust me.” I rest there, sitting above his body as my fingers dress his wound with ointment, a stone-cold countenance on my face. “What bothers you?”

I bite my gum grimly. “Don’t provoke me.”

“But if you keep your anger confined, what else might invoke it?”

“This isn’t the time for this, Usul.”

“-Paul.”

My fingers halt, propped against his warm skin as I meet eyes with Usul.

“What?”

“I would rather you call me Paul.”

I search my mind. Does anyone other than Chani call him Paul? His mother, of course. And Gurney, obviously. But the list drags to a stop there.

Is he marking the enhancement of our friendship? Maybe he’s egging me into transferring information. Altogether, it puzzles me.

Alas, I disregard my selfish thoughts. It’s foolish of me to pleasure myself with the thought that I might mean something special to the Lisan Al-Gaib. Sighing, I rise from my position.

“Okay, Paul.”

I turn to the table at my flank, taking up a pristine, fresh sheet of dressing into my hands. “Sit up against the headrest. ..Please.”

He does so without complaint once again. I approach him apprehensively. The silence is disarming. I can feel his gaze on me like a cool, unshakeable breeze.

As I begin my work, I succumb to his request.

“Counsel-Member Sarat has been my patient for the past week.” I swallow my shame while my fingers press into Paul’s stomach, attaching the covering gingerly. “He died today. Of infection. And .. and the counsel thought it fit for me to be demoted from my position as head nurse since, inherently, the war has ‘dulled my senses and muted my skills’. They’re rather unyielding in their blame, which they’ve..” I laugh dully. “..brutally pinned on me.”

“They’ve stripped you of your title as head nurse?”

“Mhm.” I confirm gently. It feels that, if I speak a decibel louder, I might crackle and fall apart.

“Give me an hour; I’ll give you your title back.”

“..Paul, it is not your place.” I tell him with warning eyes.

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“I-“ I grunt out an intermittent groan. “Do you really care if I’m head nurse or not?”

“You’re the best in your field. I’ve seen it, I witness it this very moment. Ignorance runs through the council, it’s rather obvious.”

If my complexion warrants it, I blush. I haven’t heard kudos of such high acclaim of late, or.. ever, perhaps. Hardness and disdain may have encrusted my heart, but his words seem to chip at the layers with ease.

“Just, don’t act yet.” I say carefully. “Today has been enough for me. A prolonged night of sleep might just be enough to relieve me of this stress.”

I apply one last morsel of pressure into his side with my palm, scrutinizing the dressing. Immediately, the strings of responsibility lay off of my shoulders. He’s alive, breathing, and his stomach is marked by white linen rather than the thick, maroon tints of his precious blood.

“And you. Our deal?”

I look for understanding in his face, yet I’m met with gentle confusion. I roll my eyes.

“Take care of yourself. Don’t fuck your wounds up, and I don’t have to stress about you.”

“Mmm, because you care so much about me?”

He says this blandly and with a husky tone. I chuckle, falling cocky. “You know what I mean-“

Something warming creeps up my waist. My eyes drawn to the sensation, I look down to see Paul’s hand at my side.

I lift my head. I’m met with his eyes—blue and slitted, brushed by the shadow of the dim light at the end of the spacious room. The cold throb of the air suddenly becomes terribly tangible.

Suddenly, I know. As he holds my gaze, as he holds me, I know. Every stalking thought of my intuition was valid—the prickles of tension were never figments of my wild imagination. That look, that look of his is polluted with infatuation.

I press myself away from him. “What is—what are you-”

“Just stop, Leila.”

His fingers dig a little into my skin. Suddenly, my walls are up. My shoulders surrender to stiffness; my breath refuses to release.

He leans in closer, stealing meager inches of the mattress.

“Isn’t it easier this way? We’re both stressed out of our minds, it hurts, I know. I can relieve you of your pressure, Leila-“

“You jest!”

I push him away with incredulous palms. This shocks me just as much as it does him.

“Chani. We both care for her—is this what you imply?! For two of her loved ones to betray her in one night?-”

“What is there to betray?!”

With a quickness I’m unable to fathom, we are then a mess of limbs; his legs have crawled forth and are propped onto mine, his arm bridging the distance, deft fingers bordering the brink of my neck and shoulder.

Not a wisp of breath sprouts from inside of me.

“She is frustrating. I know you’re angry with her, with how you so unabashedly project. You’re awfully transparent.”

“You are a cocky bastard.”

“Mm.”

Paul tilts his head, as if saying ‘see?’. I stifle a curse from spilling out, off my flaring tongue.

Warmth spreads like wildfire at my hip, as his left hand claims its spot. The thumb of his right ventures over my jaw and to my cheek, while his remaining digits curl around my neck. I repress a shudder, as well as a susurration at my mouth—one that would surely betray me.

“Don’t you see?” He says it so low, his voice crackles in its sudden baritone as he speaks. “Let me take care of you.”

My eyes flutter shut. My mouth gapes slightly; he leans closer and closer.

“You are Chani’s. Chani is yours.”

“You know that's not true.”

My breath trembles audibly. I can hear it in the thick air.

“Why don’t you act on your own desires?”

“How arrogant do you have to be? I do not desire one morsel of you-“

“Ah, I’ve yet to see you pull back.”

My lashes flutter, opening my eyes so that I can witness a peek of the image in front of me: he breathes me in like oxygen, as if he might suffocate any moment. I can see two slits of blue, their light dawning on me and onto the amalgamation of our intimate shadows.

“I'm afraid I know you better than you know yourself, Leila..”

I breathe in, desperately attempting to sort out my visceral thoughts. Maybe a mere moment of preparation, maybe just a little time ..

Yet he denies it. I breathe in, and Paul Atreides has ensnared me with his lips.

The power he has over me is, in itself, terrifying. I mold underneath his touch, every contiguity setting my skin aflame. Paul kisses like a savage—as we sway, his tongue slithering hungrily between my lips, our mouths a battle of uncertainty and voracity, I see him in a different light. The stiff, self-controlled, solemn boy stripped of his armor is revealed to be an animal, just like any other man.

He must be stressed out of his mind. His movement is desperate, his lips feral. His body snakes over me as my hands brush against his skin—each finger passing a rib one by one, drinking in his warmth. Skin of the Messiah.

Even if I refuse to merge with the Fremens’ united belief, I understand well, with awe and terror, Paul’s title and his power. It chills me, through flesh and into the cavern of my soul: I contact the armor of a royally begotten warrior, and I am all the same groped by the hands of a mighty killer.

Chani. Chani. Chani.

I miserably try to redirect my focus. It shocks me how insanely hungry I am for him—it never occurred to me that I had affection for Paul, but my desire flows copiously. I think back on Chani. I attempt to meditate and recall their love and what strife I’m paving.

And yet my body betrays me, These thoughts, even further, backfire.

I am angry. I am tired, and worn from Chani’s groping. The circumstance is rousing something in me—a beast of a feeling, a pit of animosity. Without caution, I shove Paul into the headrest.

“Stay still.”

I climb onto him. I look down, and find his glimmering blue eyes consumed with startled shock.

“Don’t you care about your wounds at all?”

I kiss him. I trap him against the head of the mattress, letting my hands run wild. With his waist bearing my weight, I begin to steadily ride his crotch.

Paul isn’t mine. In a perverse way, this motivates me further—he could be using me as a channel of relief or as a source for his irate, and he might even be infatuated with me. Yet once I’m immersed in my drive, and I’ve established a tantalizing pace to bounce over and over on his hard-on, I realize: I don’t really care. I want this, and I’ll take my goddamn share.

[ladyclwriter]

State of Grace - Paul Atreides!AU

I'm not a Dune reader, I only watched the movies. Everything here is fanfiction!

Summary: Paul succeeded at bending most of the noble houses at his upcoming command. You are the leader of a Minor House, Polaria. Spending some time with Paul before battles, you find yourself resonating with Muad'Dib, and your advice to the older boy is: don't let them take Atreides from you.

Longshot, time jumps, platonic, gender neutral reader, lots of high fantasy stuff

*In purple: creation of mine, fanfiction.

The curved walls weren't welcoming, it's dead gray like a panicking hug, differently from the colorful shapes of your planet. You could still remember the suffer of waking up inside concrete boxes, which they called chambers — at your little palace, the place where you'd settle your head to sleep was adorned on silk, feathers, and rainbow furniture. Walking through corridors busting with laughing children, maidens carrying baskets, warriors with swords, elders with it's incenses perfuming the air. Greeting many faces, and trying to remember all of them, was a daily task. You had to smile even when you didn't want to, for there was no time or room for melancholy and paranoia.

And now, you would find yourself praying to find anyone at all willing to even look at you. Irrelevance, how much of a pain it could be. And loneliness was a death sentence to a Polaritia.

After your platoon playing a definitive role at a conquering battle against one of the Major Houses, Duke Paul started to pay more attention to you. He'd discuss attack plans with you, trust your guidance and build teams at your observations.

“They have no reasons, nor power, to come against me” he said nonchalantly to Halleck. “Sometimes the weakest, the smallest ones, are the ones to trust”

You were teached to be trustworthy, but not the one who trust. The Atreides house could hold the power of the Voice now, but forgotten people like Polaritia mastered the ability of listening. You'd spend minutes hearing the Duke's casual thoughts, his worries, his plans and his craziness. From time to time, the boy would talk to himself, lost in visions and ghosts that only he could deal with. You were there, standing like a tree, pretending to not be paying attention until he remembered of your existence again.

The catch is; there was no catch. You were as important as a stone, a tool, your value based on for what the Duke would need you for. And it had to change.

“Your Highness, Muad'Dib” you get on a knee until he pats your shoulder, walking to his own bed.

“Polaris” he says in a casual tone. The title of the leader of your little nation became your name. Actually, he probably doesn't know your name. “It's late. And you don't come to me without a reason. Something bothering you?”

Not that he cared if the answer was yes. You stand straight, hands behind your back, eyes following the skinny man as he sits on his duvets. “I'd like to ask what awaits my nation, Your Highness”

He raises a dark eyebrow. His hair follows his head as it tilts slowly, blue eyes looking at some specific point inside your being. That eerie aura only he could carry.

“You should be clearer, Polaris. That sentence could have different meanings. And I can give you as many answers” yes, he could. Your eyes wander from his, as you inhale and humbly declare:

“I have no interest on your holy visions, Muad'Dib”

His eyebrow is still up as he smile, and nod. For a moment, he's silent, looking at nowhere, caressing his own hands. He nods once more, not talking or daydreaming, but coming to a conclusion. Your heart was beating at your ears, a pressure on your chest as the worst answers come to your mind.

“Your people is amazing at arts, we could make use of some cultural schools. And no one compares to your acrobatics” he's not looking at you while he speaks, making sure his thoughts are being well articulated. “I don't need more worshippers. But I don't need more nobles too”

When his eyes meet yours again, there's a silent question in the air. You were following his logic, and you knew the right answer to give even before he could ask. He knew that too.

He leans back at the bedpost, hands crossed on top of his spread legs. “Can Polaria promise neutrality and loyalty?”

The answer was a definite yes. There was no room for a no. Yet, you keep seconds of silence. Your lips part, and your eyebrows lift slightly. But your face gets back to a plain, obedient expression.

“My people has a deep passion for the colors, for the life” it wasn't an explanation. “With your protection and affection, we would be guardians. Your art, your culture, our enemie's. Not vowed to the House of Atreides, but servants of joy and knowledge. A safe place for the ones interested on nurturing something more than power”

He stay quiet. His eyes go to nothing again. His thumb clashes against the back of the white hand it holds, feet swaying carelessly. It lasts a minute or two, until he looks at you with the most serious face he could do in his sleepwear.

“Isn't passion the biggest of the fuels, Polaris? Wouldn't your House behold a power too high for it's hands to reach?”

You couldn't contain the sparkle in your eyes. That specific feeling at the roof of your mouth, something warm inside your stomach. The smile wasn't at your face, and your voice was cold, but he could see through the etiquette. His own pupils dilated with interest, challenge.

“We are inside a flying machine, Muad'Dib” your hands tighten at your back, and you don't know if you're breathing when he smiles right after you say: “The sky was never a limit”

Ever since that day, for the first time, the people of Polaria had a purpose. The citizen captured the message, and in no time the planet was well organized to be some sort of academic safe haven. The well trained warriors were with you, battling for the Imperium. Your acrobats, illusionists, and alchemists something to be reckon when joined with the Fremen. Your mind was always aligned with Paul's, and even if no one would dare to consider you such, you became an arm of his operation. But, as nothing can be perfect, the Duke of Arrakis would also keep you at an arm's length. You couldn't read the reason, not when he looked so distant and nonchalant every time you two were alone.

Being alone with him was as entertaining as terrifying. He was easy to memorize, easy to decode, if you pay enough attention to the details. The way he would smile at things without importance, or the way he couldn't hide the turmoil inside his mind when destiny obligate him to go against him instincts. Changing weight from a feet to another when about to snap at someone, or his jawline straightening when in the smallest amount of fear.

“You seemed so sure about this. The marriage, I mean” the commentary comes out in a quiet tone, as you don't look at him in respect. “What changed?”

Can I help you in any way? was the question. He kept staring at himself on a mirror, the royal silver outfit contrasting to his disheveled hair. He asked the maidens to leave before they could finish his look. The boy needed silence, and it was understandable.

When he doesn't answer, you look at the floor. “Is it the Fremen woman?” his fingers twitch beside his body. That was enough.

There was nothing you could do about his lost love. Nothing you could do about any of his feelings, at all. So, you stay there, quietly waiting for him to speak up. When he does, the distress wouldn't be detectable. Except for the fact you knew him enough to do so.

“Do you think these clothes look good on me, Polaris?” you don't answer, but your eyes go back to his reflection. He's quiet, and you only know you were supposed to say something when his eyes meet yours.

You swallow words. Compliments and critiques. He reads it. An eyebrow is lift, a silent inquisition.

“I do, Muad'Dib” you say with an uncommon hesitation. You knew he needed more than that. “Personally, I dislike it. The attire, I mean. It... It is the Imperium style, their colors. And... That doesn't feel like you, Your Highness”

He ponders. That was clearly an unexpected answer, but he didn't seem to disagree. “I bet you don't know the colors I used to wear”, his tone was cold. “Black. Dark like tar. In simple attires, thought to represent both royalty and strength.”

Considering the armory, and how he could pull it off, you could picture he looked equally good at those. But you stay quiet, letting him think. “This feels wrong. It's too light, makes me vulnerable to any threat. It's shiny, attracts attention. It's trouble” he was mostly talking to himself. “I'd be dead in minutes wearing this at Arrakis.”

His voice drifts away. He tense up, jaw clenching. Fear. Fear of losing his past. Himself. The woman he truly loves and the people who put him where he is. And his eyes water. Sorrow, grief for what was no longer on his life.

“Duke?” you call out. He hears, but doesn't react. Your chest inflated when you inhale deeply, closing your eyes while doing your best to maintain education. But you decide to flip the coin.

Your steps are purposely noisy when your boots reach the floor. You stop at his front, but not directly, not blocking the mirror. Your gloved hands find his collar, fixing an asymmetric button.

Your skin burns when his eyes are on it, and the air inside your lungs suddenly feels too warm. But you play nonchalant, hands slow, delicate, careful not to break into his walls. “If the worms of Arrakis could see, they'd call you dramatic. That's how I would describe the high houses's style.”

He raises an eyebrow, like he always do when curious or barely listening to you. “In my planet, we dress however we wish to. I, a leader, could wear either a white dress for battle, or a pink armor for a dance. Our streets are almost blinding with colors. It's insane, really.”

Your fingers trace other details of his clothes, fixing slight errors, straightening the shiny cloth. “I can't really see the use of a silver attire. It's brilliant, it's smooth, but... What is it implying? Why is it relevant to an Emperor?”

“I don't see the dramatic part” he comments lowly, emotionless.

“The drama is a whole House have a color to dress. Unnecessary, vain, indeed” after having nothing left to pretend to fix, you join your hands at your back, meeting his eyes with a polite smile. “I know my House is loyal to me and our ideals, even if we are many, and not only a family. We don't need a color or a shield. We're Polaritia.”

He only looks at you, taking what you said with a cherish he couldn't express. A nod, and he turns on his heels, summoning maidens to fix his hair.

Mission accomplished. You eased the tension on him once more, giving him something random to think about.

The days would go on like this. When not on field, fighting, you were wandering around spaceships, fortresses, either busy with the newfound Cultural Center of Polaria, with your own platoon, or, well, making sure Paul Atreides wouldn't go insane. The more battles won and planets conquered, the more his eyes would go hollow blue. Distant, shallow, lost inside his disturbed mind. His marriage with Princess Irulan, the already settled weight of him becoming the Emperor of the Known Universe, while being the Messiah of many people, was draining every single bit of humanity the young man had. And you were there, watching, trying the best you could to keep him sane, alive. To keep him as, well, himself. And it was an agonizing way to live.

That eyebrow wouldn't lift. His jaw wouldn't clench. No half smile, no silent curiosity. At a certain way, it was killing you too. And, hours before the ceremony of his marriage, you decided to step in.

“Excuse us” the maidens didn't question; not after your months of work and lone moments with the Duke. “Your Highness. I'd like to talk”

No answer, as always. He was sat at his bed, hair combed back, wearing a shirt that was being taken care by the maids. You stop right in front of him, determined. “Don't you give me that dead fish face, my lord. I know you hear me. Talk to me, please”

His eyes find yours slowly, emotionless. That makes your whole being shake with anger and frustration. “Sir. Talk to me” you demand. When he keeps staring at you with those glass eyes, blood burns in your veins, and you snap. “I will not stand here and watch you falling by the strings of a fate you didn't choose”

No reaction.

“For fuck's sake, Moad- Paul!” you yell his name. For the first time, it comes out your lips in a shout. “You are the fucking future Emperor of the New Universe, former Duke of Arrakis, of Polaria, Caladan, and countless other planets we raided days ago!” he wasn't reacting, but listening. His eyes weren't on yours, but down. At your moving angry lips. That could make butterflies on your stomach if you weren't so pissed. “You are the first man to behold the Voice. You are the Lisan al-Gaib, the Harkonning bastard who gave us freedom. You are a living legend, a god, a savior!”

You point towards him, you spit your words. None of them resonating within him, neither within you. No, these weren't the titles he needed. These titles weren't him. “Your Highness. Paul. I...”

How painful it would be to watch such a man fall for the manipulation of forces he himself could dominate. You get on your knees. Taking his cold hands in yours, you lay your forehead at his palms. “You are good. I see goodness in you. I see faith, of a million souls. And I see hope”

As you lift your head, the vibrant blue orbs are fixated on yours. His irises shake, switching from each one of yours. A reaction.

“And I see me”

It was true. You've been thinking about that for days, working it in your mind. “I was born to shine a light on my planet. To bring us recognition, greatness. To be Polaris”

He blinks. Just once. Listening.

“I lived under the shadows of a hundred people's expectations. Literally a hundred. That's our population” you chuckle bittersweetly, tears in your eyes. “And it was heavy. It was twisted, torturing. But I had to do be. If it wasn't me, no one would. And it was hard to not lose myself on it. On who they wanted me to be”

You squeeze his skinny fingers on yours, hoping it would convey your empathy, your deep need to bring that man back to life. You did it for yourself, once. And he deserved a chance.

“Paul,” it cascades down your tongue, your lips. Caressing your teeth with a sour taste. “before all of this, you were someone. You were the son of Leto Atreides and Gesserit Jessica. The boy of Caladan”

The stories were clear. And you had to study them, as Jessica required you and anyone near Paul to. “You were a loved son. The light of your parents, and your family, even if too monotone sometimes”

You get up on your feet slowly, pulling him by his delicate hands, and he follows. You lift your chin to the tall pale Duke, and whisper:

“Become a myth alive, Paul. Conquer the New Universe” your voice shakes, and by the warmth in your eyes, you know you had tears. “But, please, don't let them take Atreides from you”

His eyebrows twitch. You gasp, finally having a reaction. Tears fall freely down your cheeks, and you laugh alone at the way your emotions were overflowing. A hand is lift to the back of your neck, and you don't think straight when your face is against his bony shoulder blade. But you close your eyes, hands at his back, clenching the fabric in it.

He wasn't a friend. Or a companion. But you hug him tight, crying for the lost man whose chin was on top of your head. Whose nose was, now, sunk in your hair.

“The universe will be damned if you get lost” you whisper, voice shivering.

The feeling of his hand running softly in your hair gave you goosebumps. He was certainly not normal, certainly not the Paul Atreides. But he was, at least, conscious.

“The ones unseen are the ones to befriend” his voice is warm, low at the side of your head, reverberating inside your chest. “For in the cold darkness lies the truth of men”

His hand cups the crook of your skull, as he lowers his head to perfectly whisper at your ear:

“Stay with me, unseen one. Help me thread through the shadows surrounding us” it wasn't a command, but it wasn't a suggestion. A whisper to your soul, your beings speaking to each other.

“I will. I will stay with you, Paul Atraides” you whisper against the cloth of his blouse. Well, that was the feeling his believers had. Reverence, hope, submission. You understood it all.

“Thank you” he sighs, sending electricity down your whole body. One of his hands travels up to your cheek, and he looks inside your eyes like a lost, madman. But completely sane, as he whispers:

“I don't think Paul Atreides will exist for long” he admits, melancholy I his tone. “But with your help... Maybe I can have faith in me.”

I watched the movie and I had this sentence in my mind. "Don't let them take Atreides from you". And I had to find a way to put it out.

Please, tell me your thoughts! Every commentary is appreciated.

And to the ones who follow me, sorry for the hiatus. I'm working on some stuff and I promise I will try to finish them this year (lol).

Thank you so much for reading!! Love you all

[anxiouswriter0]

i don't care | Laurie Laurence

════════════════════════════════════════════

Inside one of the rooms of the march residence lay the feverish body of one of the sisters, to be specific, (y/n) March.

the girl might have contracted an illness due to the strain she had been under in recent days. for a moment, her sisters and mother were terrified that perhaps (y/n) had contracted scarlet fever, but luckily that wasn't the case. although she was taken care of by everyone, (y/n) didn't agree with being looked after. it's not that she was stubborn (or maybe she was), she just didn't want her sisters to stop attending to their activities to take care of her.

lying on the bed with both arms behind her head, resting on the pillow, and with a thick blanket covering her from the waist down.

trying to rest for the umpteenth time. but this time (y/n) managed to close her eyes completely.

but suddenly, soft knocks sounded behind the door. (y/n) reluctantly turned her head towards the door. as no one entered or even asked, she rolled her eyes, closed them again, but... the knocks sounded again.

—Jo, if it's you, don't worry, I'm fine, okay? —(y/n) spoke hoarsely.

no one responded.

—Jo? —(y/n) asked without even looking, as she didn't even have her eyes open due to the exhaustion she was feeling.

the sound of the door being opened, along with the echo of boots resonating on the wooden floorboards, filled the room. the small "creak" of the door closing gently was all that could be heard, as if the person entering the room wanted to make as little noise as possible, but the sound of their boots on the wood gave them away. (y/n), who still had her eyes closed, could hear every step, softly echoing in the room, approaching. Until at one moment, they stopped, and (y/n) felt the weight of someone sitting down beside her bed.

opening her eyes slightly and trying to visualize who it was, although at first everything seemed blurry, (y/n) gradually began to recognize the facial features of that person.

—Laurie? —she asked, astonished, as the person smiled gently.

—What are you doing here? —she asked, confused, but with a noticeable discreet smile.

—Jo told me you were in bed, so since everyone had their turn to visit you, I felt like now it was my turn to do so, —Laurie joked, eliciting a small smile from (y/n).

—But putting that aside, how are you feeling? —he asked, changing the subject.

—Do you really want to know? —(y/n) asked, as Laurie nodded in response.

—Terribly indebted to them, —(y/n) blurted out, making Laurie laugh. —You should have seen them coming in and out of the room. I couldn't sleep with the sound of their shoes echoing on the floor, the door opening and closing, and please don't make me remember the sound of their desperate voices. for a moment, I felt like I was dying, —(h/c) laughed, while feeling Laurie rub her hand over the arm that was extended behind (y/n)'s head..

—But amidst all the chaos you're telling me, I see that you're doing well, —he said, rested her hand on the other end of the bed, beside the girl's body.

—Tell my sisters, —said (y/n), placing her arm over her eyes.

at that moment, a small silence filled the room, but oddly enough, it wasn't uncomfortable as some might have expected.

however, that silence and atmosphere were interrupted when (y/n) felt fingers glide over her cheek, the thumb tracing her cheekbone delicately. this caught (y/n)'s attention, causing her to remove her arm from her eyes.

—What are you doing?— she asked

—I'm looking at you, —Laurie joked.

—How silly, —(y/n) murmured, although she regretted it a bit when she noticed Laurie's sudden serious expression, with his head pointing towards the ground. With some effort, she managed to sit up at least, placing her hand on Laurie's shoulder to get his attention. —I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...—

—Don't worry, —Laurie interrupted, —it's not that —he murmured softly at the end.

—Then what is it? —(y/n) asked, confused.

with that, Laurie let out a long sigh that (y/n) could hear. she watched as he turned his gaze towards her. suddenly, Laurie shifted on the bed and slowly extended his hands, taking (y/n)'s hands in his. this gesture made (y/n) nervous due to Laurie's sudden actions.

—(y/n)...— he began, but the realization dawned on (y/n) about what Laurie might say.

—Laurie, no... don't do it, —interrupted with a disappointed voice, pulling her hands away from his.

—What? Why? —Laurie murmured, trying to take (y/n)'s hands again, but she kept them out of his reach.

—Because I know you love Jo, —(y/n) affirmed, noticing Laurie's surprised expression. —I know, —she murmured at the end.

(y/n) turned her gaze away, avoiding Laurie's eyes, while all he did was take the girl's hand again.

—Please, (y/n), please listen —Laurie murmured as he gently caressed her hand. —You're right, I love Jo... but the love I feel for you is different, —he affirmed with determination. With his other hand, he gently held (y/n)'s chin, turning it so their gazes met.

laurie noticed how tiny tears streamed down (y/n)'s cheek. tenderly, he slid his thumb over her eyes, wiping away every trace of sadness he found.

—I mean it, —he murmured. —Why don't you believe me?—

(y/n) shook her head.

—I don't know, —she said between sobs.

—then let me show you. Let me show you that I'm serious, —he murmured, moving closer to she, their faces just inches apart.

laurie, being so close, could feel the warmth emanating from her. he could have joked that perhaps was embarrassed by the moment, but he chose to remain silent, not wanting to ruin the moment.

laurie tenderly held (y/n)'s face in his hands and began to kiss her gently. he started on her cheek, then moved up to her temple and placed another kiss, moving on to her forehead and then to the other cheek. as he did so, he noticed (y/n) starting to giggle. emboldened by the joy of the moment, laurie ventured to give her a sudden kiss on the tip of her nose, eliciting even more laughter and a warm feeling in his heart.

however, at one point, laurie stopped, fixing his gaze on a place he hadn't kissed yet.

(y/n) noticed and warned him.

—If you get sick, Laurie, I'm not going to take care of you —she said, staying just inches away from him.

laurie could only smile as he let his lips meet hers. In that moment, it didn't matter if he couldn't get up tomorrow. All that mattered to him in that moment was what they were sharing.

they both pulled away in search of air, although they kept their foreheads together. In that small space between them, the rapid beating of their hearts resonate like a shared echo of intense emotions.

—i don't care —murmured laurie.

════════════════════════════════════════════

↳ Note: I made this little one-shot a long time ago and I never could finish it, I always had it as a draft. Also, I saw that the theme of the 'little women' had already gone out of style. So, I didn't want to upload it.now i want to cry ↳ p.s: I just noticed that this has a lot of (y/n) and a lot of Laurie. :D I'll try to improve and not to put so much (y/n).

[hazelsmirrorball]

Late Night Talking| Timothee Chalamet x Fem! Reader

summary: Timothee decides to have a cozy night in for Valentine’s Day with his lovely girlfriend warnings: fluff, English is not my main language so ignore any errors. a/n: day two of the Cupid fourteen love stories series!! I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I do. Love to hear your feedback and thank you for all the love!

previous imagine.

Cupid Fourteen Love Stories Masterlist

Y/n looked at herself in the mirror fixing herself as best as she could. Her body adorned with the cozy pajamas Timothee had gotten her for Christmas specifically for Valentine’s Day. Y/n slowly traced her fingers across the cute little dinosaur shapes that were covered all over with hearts. She smiled softly when she heard the doorbell ring. Y/n quickly opened it to face her lovely boyfriend that was wearing the exact same thing as her.

“Hi! Come in, come in” She responded by taking him by the arm and pulling him into her living room.

“You look beautiful. I’m so glad we bought the dinosaur one’s instead of the conversational hearts one” Timothee said while hugging her frame and placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“Whatever you say, I’m just glad you didn’t get the fur one” She responded trying to hold in her laughs.

“First of all, it wasn’t a fur one. It’s a bear pants and you didn’t understand the complicity it takes to look good in those pants”

“You know what since you love those pants so much I might have gotten you a pair for v-day" Y/n said throwing herself onto the couch full of cozy blankets.

" Did you ask Cupid for those pants?" he asked with a cocky little smile while throwing his body on top of hers. Y/n quickly laughs while pushing him softly making him move to the side not squishing her completely.

“Maybe, it’s my little secret" She grinned while leaning towards the table and handing him a hot chocolate. Timothee smiled and took in the surroundings in front of them.

The living room that was always bare and dark was now covered in all sorts of Valentine’s Day decor. Every part of the living room that was originally empty was covered with Valentine’s Day banners, flower petals and the beautiful arrangement Timothee had gotten her earlier in the day. The coffee table was covered with different snacks and a stack of the best corny romance movies known to mankind.

"You outdid yourself this year, hun. I love what you did to the place, it looks like Cupid threw up in your living room." He said while taking a sip of his hot cocoa, making him close his eyes to savor the taste.

“I'Il take that as a compliment, just so you know." She said, rolling her eyes jokingly while taking the tv controller looking for a movie. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in concentration and muttered the movie titles trying to pick one. Timothee atched her in admiration trying to guess how lucky he was to have her.

“I really mean it" He responded while laying his hand on her thigh while drinking another sip with the other one.

"Well, since it was my turn to decorate I decided that the vibe that would match these dinosaur pants was Cupid puking in the living room. So ta dah” She said laughing. Timothee chuckled, leaning over her and taking the controller out of her hand, quickly turning off the tv, throwing it to the other side of the room.

Before she could react he leaned into her softly kissing her lips. When he pulled away he noticed his girlfriend's red face.

"What was that for?" Y/n asked, blushing, hiding herself behind the conversational hearts mug she was holding.

"I was thinking we should see movies later, let's just enjoy the moment. " He grinned, taking her mug and placing it on the coffee table.

"Well, I like that too," She said, imitating his expression.

"I love you so much, you have no idea" He said softly while leaning towards his face near her ear. He took in her vanilla perfume and kissed softly behind her ear making her shiver.

"I love you too" She turned around to look at him, settling down the mug she was holding.S he held onto his cheek stroking it with her thumb.

"You know what.” Timothee got up quickly taking your hands in his pulling you up from the couch.

He got his phone out of his back pocket typing something. Soft song started playing from his phone.

“M'lady" He said, faking British actions. Timothee extends his hand and bowes quite dramatically making Y/n cover her mouth to laugh.

"Kind sir” She responded with the same accent taking his hands.

Timothee ulled her towards him, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the music. He stared at her eyes taking in the beauty that came with them. He smiled softly making Y/n follow his actions. He spun her softly watching her beautiful hair flow. Timothee leaned in resting his forehead on hers.

"It's times like these that make me love our late night talks" he said finally breaking the distance between the two locking their lips together.

[MASTERLIST]

request are open, xoxo

[missjadesfics]

Timothee Chalamet

Stars in your eyes - Timothee Chalamet x Reader Reader and Timothee go on a blind date together set up by their friends, not knowing Timothee and reader had dated in the past | coming soon

Characters

Paul Atreides

We Can Share - Feyd-Rautha x Reader x Paul Atreides The reader is Feyd and Paul's childhood friend; rather than choose one, why not have both?

Paul Atreides x Reader x Duncan Idaho - We Made An Agreement Y/n and Paul are married, both agreeing they can sleep with whomever they like. The reader finds comfort with Duncan. But Paul questions if the agreement works for him anymore.

My Gem - Paul Atreides x Reader Paul asks for the Emperor's eldest daughter's hand in marriage.

Willy Wonka

King Henry V

Theodore ‘Laurie’

Nic Sheff

Regulus Black

Dune men reacting to their so saying "I love you " | coming soon

Dune men looking after reader on their period | coming soon

Come away with me - Wonka x Reader | coming soon

[timhalamet]

TIMOTHEE C

(no work yet)

[ashers1997]

Euphorics

Warning this is a 18+ story with smut! No minors!!!

I laughed as I brought the glass to my lips while watching my friends Alexis and Marissa dance. We were at our favorite club, The Euphorics Lounge and Bar, and the night had only just begun. Along with Alexis, Marissa, and I being there, another friend, Miguel, worked at the bar. We could all talk and have a good time together, and also Miguel could give us discounts as a courtesy of the bar. Furthermore, given that we all preferred cheap vodka or tequila over wine and bourbon, our nights were pretty cheap drink-wise. However, even though the drinks are cheap, these nights can get "expensive" in a certain sense. Euphorics is a strip club/bar, and it is incredibly easy to drop hundreds of dollars there without even noticing. However, regardless of the prices, the bar in and of itself is a good time. I often stay near the bar, talking to Miguel while Alexis and Marrisa have fun on the dance floor and near the stage. While I admired strippers, and I always tipped while I was there, I never went out of my way to interact with them. 

"Do you want to join us, y/n!?" Marissa yelled over the music, and I just laughed and shook my head. I loved watching them have fun, but I preferred to stand afar and watch while I drank or smoked. 

She shrugged and continued to dance before pointing towards the stage and mouthing something to Alexis. I heard Alexis say, "Have fun!" before she walked over to me. 

"She's going to get closer to watch her favorite." She said while laughing, and I laughed too. There was one stripper named Jackson that she adored. And, in all fairness, Jackson was a fan of Marissa, too. He always went out of his way to show her attention when they were both at the club. While there was a general liking, there was also explicit knowledge that part of the connection was transactional. 

I smiled and shook my head as I watched them flirt near the stage. "I swear those two need to get together somehow." 

"I know. Either get together or get a room." As we laughed, I saw Alexis's eyes drifting to one of her favorite strippers. 

"Are you going to go say hi to Marcus or just continue to eye fuck him?" 

"Oh, hush." She said, lightly slapping my arm. "I'm going to go over in a minute. I just need to get my cash." 

Since I was seen as "the responsible one," I often looked over their bags on a night out. I didn't guard them or keep them from using their money; Miguel and I just kept them near the bar so we could make sure nobody stole them. 

"Alright, well, you have fun with Marcus. I'll be here." I say as I light up a cigarette and take a long inhale.

She smiled and grabbed her cash before walking over. 

"Is she putting the cash between her…yup she is," I murmur to myself, laughing as I exhale a puff of smoke. Whenever she gave Marcus cash, she only did it one way. She would take a twenty put, the bill between her breasts, and have him take it from there. It made me laugh every time and seemed amusing for both her and Marcus. It was their little game that they played every time. 

As my eyes drifted away from Alexis, I watched the other dancers. They interacted with customers on the floor or from the stage during this time. Sometimes they did pole tricks, but those were typically saved for the main show. As I watched, I noticed that there was a stripper who I didn't recognize. 

He was pretty. He had dark curly hair that fell over his eyes, a lean, slender frame, pale skin, and an infectious smile. I tilted my head and called to Miguel.

"Hey, who's the new guy on stage?"

"Oh, that's Timothée. He's actually been here for roughly a month. He doesn't typically work Saturdays. He's really popular, too." 

"Well, I'm not surprised. He's pretty."

"Yeah, looks like you've caught his attention too."

"What-" I turned back towards the stage and saw him staring…in my direction. 

"He just happened to be looking this way, man. Doubt he was staring at me."

"Sure, y/n. If you want to think that."

I was about to ask what the hell that meant when Alexis bounced back over to us. 

"Did you see me and Marcus?"

"Yes, I did. I see that gag has never gotten old."

"Nope, he loves it. Oh yeah, by the way, who was the guy on stage staring at you?"

"He wasn't staring at me."

"Yes, he was y/n. His name is Timothée, by the way." Miguel said to Alexis with a smirk, and I rolled my eyes. It wouldn't be the first time that anyone from our group tried to set me up with someone on a date. Or set me up to interact with one of the strippers. 

"No. He wasn't."

"I think he was."

"Well, you think wrong," I said with a laugh. "By the way, can I get a refill?" 

"Absolutely." He said as he made another vodka soda for me and slid it over. I took a gulp and looked back towards the stage, immediately noticing that Timothée had disappeared. 

"Besides, what was it for even if he was looking at me? Plenty of other people here are a thousand times more attractive than I am." 

"Um, y/n, I think he was looking at you," Alexis said while laughing and looking past me to my right.

"Oh yeah? And what makes you say that-" I was cut off as someone suddenly stood in front of me and, wouldn't you know it? It was Timothée. He had placed his arms on either side of me, trapping me in so I couldn't run away, which I desperately wanted to do now. 

"I can confirm I was looking at you. What are you drinking, by the way?" Timothée asked before he took my drink out of my hand and took a sip. 

"Mmm, vodka soda. A nice classic." He put the drink back in my hand, and I stared at him incredulously momentarily. He was even more attractive up close. And whatever cologne he had was the perfect mixture of muskiness and sweetness. As I stared, he smirked at me, and I realized he knew what he was doing. He was just the type to enjoy fucking with someone and making them flustered. 

As I came to my senses, I reached into my pocket, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and held it in front of me. 

"Oh, I won't take it from you that way." 

"Why not? It's a perfectly good bill. Do you want more?" I say, completely willing to give more but unsure.

"I said I'm not going to take it that way, never said I wouldn't take it." I stared at him blankly before asking the obvious question, "Well, how will you take it?"

He smirked and murmured in a low voice, "Put it in between your teeth."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Put. It. Between. Your. Teeth." I stared back in disbelief. As much as I wanted to believe he wasn't being serious, I could tell that, unbelievably, he was. I let out a sharp laugh. 

"You're kidding."

"I'm so sorry to disappoint you, Pretty Thing, but I'm not. Put it between your teeth, and I'll take it." 

"Pretty Thing? You're giving me nicknames now?"

"Is there something wrong with it? I'm only calling you Pretty Thing because you are, and I don't know your name." 

"My name is y/n. And if I'm a Pretty Thing, then you're a fucking tease."

"Oh, I know I am, darling. Now, will you give me that money properly and how I want it or not?" I wanted to shove the money back in my pocket, but part of me also wanted so desperately to see what he would do. So, unbelievingly, I brought the bill to my mouth and bit down with my teeth, smirking at him as if to say, "Try me." And try me, he did. He leaned forward and bit down on the other side of the bill with his teeth. I was in so much shock that I let go. He laughed as he leaned back, finally setting me free from the cage that was his arms. 

He took the bill out of his mouth and looked at it before placing a kiss on it. 

"This bill is incredibly special to me now. Tell me, are you doing anything after the show?"

"Going home." I practically spit out through gritted teeth. I was still in complete shock at what had just happened and utterly embarrassed. 

"Well…" He said, reaching around me and grabbing a napkin and a pen from the bar. "Why don't you meet me after the show backstage, hm? Hand this to the bouncer, and he'll let you in." 

He handed me the napkin, and on it was a small note that said "Meet me backstage," some numbers and his signature. 

"I look forward to seeing you, my Pretty Thing." He said, gripping my chin before he walked away, waving the money a bit to remind me of what had just happened. 

"What the fuck was that?"

"I have no idea, but I think he likes you," Alexis said while half laughing, clearly in shock. 

"Miguel, what is this, by the way?" I ask, showing him the letter I was handed. 

"Oh damn, he really likes you," Miguel said, reading the note while he cleaned a glass. 

"Why is that?"

"Well, this is basically an invitation to either just hang out backstage or fuck. Could go either way depending on what you want." 

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Hey, take it as a compliment. He's clearly attracted to you." 

I rolled my eyes and shoved the napkin into my pocket, trying to forget everything that just happened. 

"You're not going to use it?" Alexis asked, surprised.

"Why the fuck would I?" 

"Because it would be a good time, in my opinion." 

"Yeah, I don't think so." 

"Well, regardless of your decision, I want to watch the show right now. If we leave tonight without you seeing him backstage, I at least want to leave on a fun note." 

"I will not meet him backstage, but I will watch the floor show with you," I say, handing my glass back to Miguel and nodding at him for another refill. I took out another cigarette and lit it up. I discarded the other one in an ashtray during the exchange with Timothée and decided to light another. 

"Yay!" Alexis exclaimed. "Let's go up front." She started off without me as I grabbed my drink, and my mouth opened. 

"Up front? You have got to be kidding me." I followed her to the front, looking ahead at the stage and realizing that where we were about to sit would be incredibly close to the stage and even worse off. Close to Timothée. 

As we sat down at a table, I looked up at the stage and watched as all of the strippers got into place. Timothée was positioned roughly in front of me, and I was doing everything I could not to stare at him. I hadn't really noticed his outfit before due to shock, but now I had noticed it. He wore tight black pants, black sneakers made for the stage, and a loose silky black button-up. He had also left the top few buttons undone to expose his skin. I had to admit he looked amazing, but I also wanted to ignore how good he looked. I knew the more I looked at him, the more pleased he would be with how flustered he made me. 

As the lights dimmed, I heard the song "S/M" by Rhianna come on, and to say I wasn't surprised would be an understatement. An entire song about sadomasochism in a strip club? Yeah, that's to be expected. 

All of the strippers began their routine, and I admired how they twisted and turned their bodies. While most of the moves invoked similar moves with grinding and sex, there was a certain elegance to what they were doing that appealed to me. As the song continued, a couple of the guys moved to the floor and started interacting with crowd members. I turned to Alexis, who was eagerly looking over towards Marcus. 

"Hey, do you know if Timothée typically goes down to the floor?" I asked over the music. 

"I haven't heard anything about him doing that, but maybe?" She turned her attention back to Marcus, and I turned my gaze to the stage. I let out a small sigh of relief as I saw that Timothée appeared to be staying up there. Perhaps he didn't do floor work, which would honestly be a miracle. But just as I was relaxing, he suddenly ran to the edge and jumped off. A bunch of cries from girls erupted from the crowd, all attempting to grasp his attention and pull him towards them. I saw him look around and start walking towards a group of girls, and I let out a small sigh of relief. Even if he was down on the floor, maybe he would pay attention to the other customers. 

As I turned my attention towards that direction, he suddenly spun around and made eye contact with me. 

"Shit," I mumbled to myself. He walked over to me in this stalking motion. Almost as if he were a predator catching his prey. That's what I currently felt like his prey. He walked over and then circled around my chair. I avoided eye contact as much as I could, but then, as I was looking down, Timothée suddenly sat in my lap. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. Oh my gosh. This fucker was smirking at me, smirking. 

"I think I want to play with you, Pretty Thing." I felt like my eyes were locked on his. It was like I couldn't look away at how captivating his eyes were. They were a sparkling green, and with his accompanying dark and grungy eye makeup, they looked even brighter. His eyes were also incredibly seducing in and of themselves. He kept his eyelids low to make him enticing, and as much as I hated to admit it…it worked. 

I heard "S/M" reaching its crescendo in the background, but everything sounded muffled. I was too distracted by how Timothée was still gripping my chin, how our eyes were locked, and how he was grinding on me with so much force and desperation. 

He let out a low chuckle as I glared at him. I knew that despite my glaring, he could tell that at least part of me felt good. Somehow, despite how enveloped I was in him, I could reach into my pocket and pull out another twenty-dollar bill. He looked down at it and then back at me. 

"You know I won't take it that way Pretty Thing, give it to me properly." My glare darkened as I reluctantly put the bill between my teeth. I could barely maintain eye contact with Timothée as he leaned in, pushing my chin up slightly before biting the other side of the bill. He winked at me as my teeth released the bill, and his hand released my chin. He stood up and walked away with all the other dancers as the song ended. 

They finished the dance by jutting their hips in the air, and suddenly, the lights all lowered again. The crowd cheered, and some screamed, but my ears were ringing. Part of me wanted to be mad, and part of me wanted to enjoy how undeniably sexy that was. 

I stayed seated until the lights came back on. I looked down at my drink and then suddenly gulped down what was left before looking at Alexis. She smiled at me, and I just gave her a "Really?" kind of stare. 

"Oh, come on. You cannot look at me and tell me that what he did to you wasn't hot." 

"I can actually."

"Oh my god." She said with an exasperated sigh. Despite her sigh, she smiled. "You need to learn to enjoy yourself." 

"I'll enjoy myself when I'm not being relentlessly teased by a stripper who calls me 'Pretty Thing.'"

"You know most people would be incredibly jealous of you and would love to take your spot."

I rolled my eyes with a smile as we both got up from the table and walked back to the bar. The club was going to be closing soon. I hadn't even realized how late it was until I looked at the clock. It was already 1:00 in the morning. I was grateful I worked from home because tomorrow would be a rough day. I was praying I had Gatorade or PediaLite in the fridge.

"Alright, guys, come close out your tabs!" Miguel yelled out. I walked over and put my card down, and so did Alexis. Marissa was walking over as well and quickly put hers down. I wasn't much of a drinker, so my tab total came to about $35, and plus the two twenties I had given, I had spent roughly $75. Honestly, that was how much I spent on longer night excursions such as these, and I was pleased. Alexis and Marissa had spent somewhere near $100 each, but they drank a lot more than I did. It seemed cheap, but the drinks we got were the cheapest on the menu and the lowest quality. The club often made its money from the few high rollers who came in buying expensive bourbon and lap dances all night. 

"Dang, I spent that much?" Marissa asked, shaking her head. 

"Don't worry, girlie, I feel you," Alexis added, looking at her bill. 

"I wasn't too bad tonight."

"You never are, y/n. This is why we call you the responsible one." Marissa said with a sigh. "Oh yeah, I saw you get that lap dance during the show. Pretty hot, huh." 

I let out an exasperated sigh and shook my head. Alexis gave me a light shove with a laugh before letting Marissa know what had happened earlier.

"Oh my god, that's amazing. You're going to see him, right?"

"And why would I do that, Mari?"

"At least give it a shot. I think it could be good for you!" I stared at her as she shrugged with a smile and walked over to get her stuff with Alexis. I turned to Miguel, hoping to find some sane advice, only to be met with his knowing smirk. He could see that I was at least somewhat attracted to Timothée and what he did, and he could also see my bubbling curiosity about what would happen backstage.

"You know what I'm going to say to you, man." He said, cleaning some glasses while he spoke to me. I looked at him, Alexis, and Marissa, and finally down at my pocket. I pulled the napkin out and then turned to face where the back was. Did I want to do this? Did I want to see what Timothée wanted with me? 

"Do it, y/n. You know you'll regret it if you don't." Alexis said knowingly. I wanted to walk out, to shove the napkin back in my pocket to somehow prove them wrong, but I just couldn't. 

"Alright, I'll do it, but nothing is going to happen," I said while looking back at them before walking over to the stage doors. I reached the bouncer and handed him the letter. 

"I was told to give this to you," I said, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. The bouncer looked at the note, smiled, and opened the door. 

"He's the only one with a room on this side. Door will be to your right." I nodded and walked in, looking behind me one last time at my friends cheering me on. What the hell was I walking into? 

I shook my head as I wandered down a hallway and found Timothée's door. I took a deep breath and slowly opened it. I stepped in and saw Timothée sitting on the bed, smoking a cigarette and staring at the ceiling. However, once I stepped in, he quickly tilted his head and looked over at me. He immediately got a massive grin on his face and hopped off his bed and over to me.

"You decided to come, Pretty Thing." 

"Yeah, well, I got curious," I said, brushing past him and trying to keep my cool as I sat on the bed and leaned back against the wall. I looked around the room and saw that it was fairly simple. He had LED lights that were, unsurprisingly, red, a small vanity, and some clothes. I could see some shiny objects in his closet but couldn't tell what they were. On the bed next to me also lay a pack of cigarettes. I picked it up and looked at him.

"Can I have one?" 

"Use this one instead." He said in a low voice, walking over to me and handing me his own. I took the cigarette from his fingers, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. I brought it to my lips and inhaled, breaking eye contact as I did to watch the smoke. 

"Thanks," I murmured in a soft voice. 

"Of course, my Pretty Thing." My eyes shot back up at him, and I suddenly sat up straight. 

"Why did you want me back here? You don't even know me."

"No, but I would like to know you." He said with a knowing smirk.

"You just love fucking with me, huh?"

"Personally, I would prefer to fuck you, but…sure." I opened and closed my mouth in disbelief. No one had ever been that bold with me before. I didn't even know what to say. I leaned back again and took another long inhale. 

"Something wrong? Has no one ever told you that they wanted to fuck you before?"

"No. And even if they did say that, typically they would start with 'Let's go out on a date.'" 

"I'm sorry I didn't take you out on a date tonight. I'll gladly take you on one this week, though. I was just impatient and wanted to be with you."

"Oh, is that why you grinded on me earlier, made me give you money with my teeth, and eye fucked me?" I asked with a slight venom in my voice. I wanted to come across as unbothered, but my mask was slipping. 

He looked at me before walking towards me again like he had earlier. Like I was his prey, and he was stalking me before he pounced. I watched as he slowly walked to the bed, got on, and then leaned over me, trapping me with his arms. 

"You loved everything I did to you, though, did you not?" I opened and closed my mouth, unable to find the words I wanted to say. 

He reached down, plucked the cigarette from my hand, and inhaled before holding it out to me. 

"Go on. Take a puff." I reached to take it, but he pulled back. 

"Ah, ah, ah. I said take a puff. Not take it from my hand to take a puff." I let out a low sigh, leaned forward, and took a long draw. 

"That's my Pretty Thing. Tell me, have you exchanged smoke before?" I nodded. I had exchanged smoke once. Alexis had wanted to try it, so I taught her. It was when one person took a hit of something and basically "fed" it to the other person through a kiss. 

"Will you indulge me, please?" He asked, looking at me with those seductive yet challenging eyes. I looked at him, looked at the cigarette, and then back at him. 

"Try me, you tease," I said in a low voice. Timothée let out a low chuckle and then reached down. He gripped my chin with his right hand as he took a long draw from the cigarette. I watched as he leaned in, and I closed my eyes. It wasn't that I didn't want to look. It was that I didn't know how to look at this man whom I had just met while we basically made out to exchange cigarette smoke. 

I opened my mouth slightly as our lips met and inhaled deeply. I heard a small sigh escape past my lips as I exhaled and felt my cheeks get red with embarrassment immediately. I finally opened my eyes and looked up at Timothée. I saw he was smirking again.

"That was a cute noise, Pretty Thing. I hope I can draw some more out of you." 

"Fat chance." I spit out as I watched him put the cigarette in an ashtray. 

"Oh, don't lie to me. You fucking loved that. You love what I do to you." I wanted to deny it, tell him he was delusional, but I couldn't. I did love it. And I hated that I loved it. 

"Tell me, do you love it because you're simply enjoying the indulgence, or is it that no one has ever given you this kind of attention before." I looked away and didn't answer. He was still leaning over me, I was still embarrassed from my sigh, and I felt so overwhelmed with everything. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him lean in, and then, as he spoke, I felt his hot breath ghost over my ear. 

"Let me give you that attention you deserve. Let me make you feel good." I turned back and sat up again, wondering if I could bolt out of his arms. 

"And how do you plan to do that? Hm? You've only just met me, you know."

"I know. And you know you're in my room at a strip club, right? Take a guess as to what I want to do to you." 

"You're insane."

"And you fucking love it. Now are you going to let me please you Pretty Thing or no?" I felt myself sinking into the bed; it was like I wanted to say no because I knew better, but this other part of me adored how desired I felt that I just wanted to give in. I wanted to kiss him, let him show me how well he could touch and pleasure me. I wanted to feel his lips and hands all over my body. I wanted to feel just how badly he wanted me.

I looked up at him, feeling any of my ability to fight back slip away as I said, "Please, Timothée…" And that was all he needed to hear. 

He leaned in and kissed me deeply, parting my lips with his tongue as his hands worked their way underneath my shirt so he could feel my skin. 

"Fuck you're lips are so soft…" He mumbled in a low voice as he continued to kiss me. 

I reached up and tangled my fingers in his hair, loving their texture. I continued to kiss him as I grinded my hips back against his, somehow hoping that this could serve as a payback for earlier. And, in a way, it did. I heard Timothée let out a low moan as he jutted his hips back and gripped my waist tightly. 

"Who's the tease now?" He asked as he bit down on my lip, causing me to let out a quiet moan. 

"That's it. Sing to me with those moans." 

We slowly maneuvered our way on the bed so we were lying down with him on top and me underneath. I rolled my hips against his and whimpered as I felt his hands start to pull at my jeans. 

"What are you doing?" I gasped out in between kisses. 

"I want to taste you." He said in a low voice. 

"We were both just in a bar with a bunch of people that feel like it's a million degrees. I probably was sweating." I say, gasping between breaths as I pull back. 

"And? I was just dancing a while ago."

"I don't even know if it's properly shaved. You don't have to" 

"First off, I want to and once again: and? Why would I care if you were or weren't properly shaved?" He asked while looking at me in a completely confused manner. I looked down, slightly ashamed. 

"Has no one ever…ate you out before?" I shook my head no. 

"My last partner had said that was disgusting and never did, so I just assumed no one would ever do that."

"Well, respectfully, you're last partner was a fool to pass up on that opportunity." I couldn't make eye contact with Timothée and kept looking down until he reached up and grabbed my chin. 

"Hey, I promise you I will love it. If you take care of yourself and keep yourself clean, it will taste heavenly, and I can already tell you to do both. Please…let me indulge you." I stared back at Timothée and slowly nodded. I wanted to know what it felt like to experience that, and I would be lying if I didn't admit that having someone as skilled as Timothée eating me out seemed divine. 

"Good toy." He mumbled as he moved his hand from my chin to my throat and wrapped it around me. The vibes had just completely shifted, and I loved every fucking second. 

"Lean back, Pretty Thing." He said softly as he pushed against my throat slightly. I leaned back as he let go and just stared at the ceiling while I heard him unbuckling my pants. Never in my life had I expected to be eaten out by a stripper I had just met. I was about to tell Timothée one last time that he didn't have to do it if he didn't want to, when my voice suddenly caught in my throat. Just as I was about to tell him that, I felt something hot and wet lick a strip up my slit. The only thing that escaped from my throat was a long groan as my eyes rolled back into my head and fluttered shut. 

"That's it, pretty thing." He mumbled, his voice slightly muffled and distorted, and he continued to lick up my slit. "Give those moans to me…fuck you taste good." He licked up my slit one more time before pushing his tongue past my outer labia and in deep. I let out another moan as my hands gripped the sheets and my hips rolled up. 

"Mmm…grind on my face baby…come on, give me your delicious cum." He moaned against me before he went silent and started only eating me out. My hands frantically found his head, and I weaved my fingers in his hair, gripping lightly as I moaned. I gently pushed on his head, making him start to eat me out faster while my hips continued to roll against his face. 

"Fuckkk…" I moaned out. I had never known that someone eating me out could feel so heavenly. Dear god, I didn't want it to end. As he continued to lick my pussy lips, I felt something slowly slide inside of me and start pumping in and out. He had slid a single finger inside while he continued to lick, suck, and kiss my pussy. Quickly, I had turned into a shaking and moaning mess underneath him. 

I felt an unexpected pressure then and let out a small "Fuck Timothée." as my back arched. He had slid another finger inside of me while he had started sucking and kitten-licking my clit. His tongue was so incredibly skilled and fast that I could feel myself unraveling. No one had ever made me feel this good before; hell, even I had never made myself feel this good. 

I could feel my hips jutting upwards as Timothée continued to fuck me with his tongue and fingers, and I could also feel an orgasm approaching incredibly fast. 

"Timothée…please I-" I gasped out, grinding my pussy against his tongue, causing him to growl. 

"That's it…grind your pussy against my face. Cum. Now." On command, I listened. I came harder than I ever had before. I felt myself squirting a little, too, as I feverishly rubbed my clit against Timothée's tongue. I rode out high with my head tilted back as moans, groans, and whimpers escaped me. Finally, my hips stuttered forward as I rode out the last wave of my orgasm. 

"Fuck." I groaned out as I slowly sat up. As I did, I watched as Timothée slowly sat up as well. He looked at me briefly before he pressed against me and kissed me. 

"See. I told you that you would taste heavenly. It's like an aphrodisiac, isn't it?" I nodded silently as I looked at him and then slowly looked down at the tent in his pants. 

"You want some help?" I asked, slightly out of breath. He smirked and leaned back so he could sit upright. He quickly undid his jeans and then did a "come hither" motion with his finger. I slowly got up and crawled over. 

I was on my knees looking at him before he gripped my chin and drew me in. 

"Take my cock out and suck Pretty Thing." He let go forcefully, and I did as I was told. As I took it out, I felt my eyes widen. He was big, and he looked delicious. 

I slowly leaned down and wrapped my lips around their cock, and forced it as deep as I could into my mouth. I heard them let out a low moan and a soft "Fuck, that feels good, Pretty Thing…" before I continued. I jerked him off with my hands every once in a while to match the rhythm of my sucking their cock. And, every time I moaned, they jutted their hips up, forcing their cock deeper inside of my mouth. I felt them entangle their fingers into my hair and force me to go deeper. At one point, I gagged on their cock as my lips met their base before I was suddenly tugged up. I stared up at them with lidded eyes as I licked their precum from my lips. 

"Fuck…" Timothée groaned out before pushing me back down again, making me kiss their base and gag before pulling me up again. He did this a few times, pushing on the back of my head with his hand, causing me to deepthroat their cock and gag again and again. My eyes were rolling back in my head due to pleasure. 

"God, I'm going to cum…" He growled out before holding my head in place as his hips jutted up, and he came. I swallowed every last drop as he came into my mouth, and when he finally pulled me up, I gasped for air. 

"You did such a good job for me, Pretty Thing." He huffed out, looking at me. I looked back and closed my eyes as he leaned in and kissed me. 

As we kissed, I felt him turn his body and start pushing me down against the sheets again. I heard rustling and felt movement, and as I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck, my hand made contact with his skin. I opened my eyes as we separated from our kiss and stared. 

He looked otherworldly. He was so beyond beautiful and seductive that I was losing myself in him. He reached down and started helping me get my shirt off, and as he tossed it to the side, his eyes raked up and down my body. I went to cover myself, but he took my hands and held them down. 

"Don't. Cover. Yourself." He growled out as he looked down at me, fucking me with his eyes. 

"Fuck you are so beautiful. I can't wait to ravish you." He let go of one of my arms and then reached down and positioned the head of his cock at the entrance of my pussy. 

"Are you ready?"

I nodded. "Please, Timothée…fuck me." He let out a low growl and thrust into me, making me let out a low moan as my head fell back against the pillow. As my mind drifted, they started fucking me rougher. My arms splayed above my head, and my legs desperately tried to hold themselves up. But, I was so utterly lost in lust that they kept slipping. They responded as I reached my arms down to hold them up. 

"Don't you even think about it, Pretty Thing," before gripping my thighs and pulling me closer. They gripped my legs so they would be held further up, and when they did, oh my God, did it feel magnificent. They were plunging inside of me so deeply that my moans and groans became more erratic. Fuck it felt so good.

As Timothée plunged into me, I felt him grip my chin and force me to look at him again. God those eyes…They were so heavily lidded that I just drowned in them. He leaned down and kissed me as he jutted his hips forward, his hand caressing my body as if to try and memorize every inch. It was all too much. I wanted more of him; I wanted him to be deeper. And it seemed that he wanted to be deeper, too.

They leaned down and growled, "Get on your hands and knees." 

As they took their cock out, I flipped myself over. I was about to lower myself when suddenly they grabbed my hair and tugged me back while swiftly plunging inside of me. I let out a cry as they started fucking me roughly again. They were going much deeper this time, and I saw stars. They went from just brushing against my g-spot to brushing against my cervix. I don't know what on earth possessed me to utter my words, but I couldn't control myself. We were dealing with a version of myself that I had never met before, a being who craved lust and found themselves unsatiated. 

“Please…deeper…rougher…" I had unleashed a beast. I felt them grab onto my hips, my head falling against the pillow as they pounded into me. I honestly don't know how they managed to contain themselves, but they were finding a way. As they pounded into me, they growled. 

"You want it deeper, Pretty Thing? Do you want to take every fucking inch of my cock like a dirty whore?"

"God…Timothée, I need to c-cum!" I choked out. 

"Cum with me, Pretty Thing…Cum with me now." He groaned into my ear before he roughly pressed his lips against mine. 

We let out a cacophony of moans, groans, whimpers, and growls as we feverishly grinded against each other. At the same time, we came, making an absolute mess of ourselves and the bed. 

As we rode out our orgasms, our cries became softer and our movements slower before we came to a slow halt. 

"Fuck…" Timothée gasped out with a small laugh. "Aren't you glad you came back here, Pretty Thing?" 

"I'd hit you now if I wasn't so exhausted." 

"Eh. I'm into that."

"Oh my god," I exclaimed with a laugh. "Get out of me."

"As you wish, Pretty Thing." He hissed as he slowly slid out of me and flopped next to me on the bed, and I rested on my side. He turned onto his side to face me and slowly leaned in and kissed me. 

"I think you'll be staying here for the night, y/n. Don't worry, there's a shower." 

I let out a sigh, knowing he was right. I was in no shape to be walking home, and my friends were absolutely long gone by now. I nodded before reaching over to the floor and finding my pants. I grabbed my phone and pulled it out to text Alexis, Marissa, and Miguel to let them know I was safe and where I would be staying. I was met with messages from all of them saying. "Have fun! ;)" And I laughed. They knew me so well. I threw my phone to the side and turned to face Timothée.

"How about that shower?"

"Sounds good…I bet you'll feel even better in there." I gave him a light slap on the shoulder, and we laughed a little before he leaned in and started kissing me roughly again.

It was about to be a long day…

[babyflorencee]

Books, pillow talks, and an attention-craving boy

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

I was engrossed in 'If We Were Villains," by M. L. Rio, when I heard the door to mine and my boyfriend, Timothée's shared bedroom creak open—just enough for him to peak in. "Hi love," he chimed, entering the room and settling down beside me.

Despite knowing that Tim was there, my eyes remained glued to the page. "Hey," I murmured, too absorbed in the book to feign enthusiasm.

"What are you reading?" He inquired, shifting to lay down directly on top of me, harshly pressing his face into my stomach.

I awkwardly folded the book so that he could see the cover, prompting him to nod in acknowledgement once he read the title.

For about 20 minutes, Tim tried everything he could to divert my attention away from my book and onto him. But once he realized my unwavering focus on the book, he started to grow bored. With a dramatic sigh, he got up, slamming the door shut.

I flinched a little at the sound, but overall I didn't think too much of it as I continued to read, since I was nearing the end. After I read it from front to back, I closed the book, setting it down on my nightstand, before getting up to go look for Tim.

As I descended the stairs, I noticed an unusual quietness, contrary to Timothée's usual ruckus. Muffled talking reached my ears as I entered the living room, finding Tim asleep on the couch with our old, beaten-up radio softly playing in the background.

I walked over to him, waking him up with a gentle shake; he let out a groan, slowly opening his eyes, before asking, "What do you want?" with a hint of sass.

"I want to cuddle," I whispered, reaching my arms out to him, repeatedly making a grabby hand motion, while giving him my best puppy dog eyes.

"Oh so now you want to give me attention," he said, rolling his eyes and turning away from me.

"Timmy," I whined, sitting beside him and pressing my head into his neck, placing a few light kisses there as a way to convince him to cuddle with me.

When he didn't respond, I pressed my mouth against his ear, whispering, "Please baby," while rubbing small circles on his back.

After a moment of faux contemplation, he smiled, lazily pulling me on top of him, before shifting so that I was under him. Once we both got comfortable, he wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling his head into my neck, gently sucking on the skin there, causing me to bite back a moan from the sensation he was giving me. "Goodnight, mon amour," he said with a smirk, momentarily lifting his head up to press a kiss on my forehead before returning his face back to my neck.

"Night night," I sleepily replied, wrapping my arms and legs around him, pulling him as close to me as possible.

[redskull199987]

A bright Future

Paul Atreides x fem!reader Word Count:1.4k Warnings:minor Spoilers for Dune Part II, Blood, stab Wound, Violence, you know the drill Summary:You thought you were going to be fine. Until you saw Paul cry. He knew the Rules of the Desert better than anyone else. Seeing him waste his Water so freely told you how serious the Situation was…

Masterlist

It was quiet. Or at least that’s what it felt like. A quiet and short moment, that barely anyone around you noticed. You had always thought getting stabbed would be a sharp pain, naturally. That you’d scream out in pain or drop to your knees. 

But none of that ever happened. It wasn’t a sharp pain, it felt dull and barely noticeable. It was the adrenaline and Spice running through your system. Or that’s what you told yourself. You had to tell yourself something. Something to keep you focused, to tell yourself to not black out. To pull out the blade and kill the Harkonnen Warrior in front of you. 

You felt slow, awfully slow. You thought that if you had been any slower, the Harkonnen might have stopped and laughed at you for ever thinking you could beat him. But Paul and Chani later told you, they had never seen someone move so fast, like you did in that moment.

The Adrenaline, you told yourself again. Over and over again. You had to keep fighting, finish the Mission. Save the Fremen. The people that had become your family, even over the short time that you had been on Arrakis. You just had to make it, that you owed them.

The next few minutes felt like you weren’t even in control of your own body. Like you were a watcher, an observer. It felt like you were back on Caladan, watching a filmbook about the Fremen with Paul. You saw yourself fight against the Harkonnen with Paul while Chani fired her weapon at the Thopters. You saw the Explosion and felt the earth shatter from the sheer power of the blast. It must’ve been the Spice, you thought. Granting you views and visions you weren’t even capable of seeing. As an Outsider, you had always been sensitive to the Melange.

And lastly, you felt the Pain.

The Pain of the weight of the world crashing down on you again. First there was silence, but suddenly you felt everything everywhere all at once. You felt like the sand beneath your feet was pulling you down and no matter how much you fought against it, you couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t escape fate. Couldn’t escape death.

You abruptly came to a halt. Paul’s hand left yours and you saw your two companions run a little further, until they noticed that you had stopped. You heard Paul call out to you and a few seconds later, he came running over to you. His expression was of pure panic when his gaze wandered from your face to your abdomen. You had pressed a hand against it, but it seemed useless. Thick warm Blood was oozing out between your fingers. It felt comforting, somehow. It told you that you weren’t dead, yet. Somewhere in your mind, you heard Stilgar scolding you, every drop of Blood was valuable Water. Water that was now lost in the Dunes of Arrakis.

“Paul?”, You mumbled. You were sure he didn’t even hear you with how quiet you spoke. Your mouth felt awfully dry. But what you did know, was that he saw you fall. And you felt his arms as they wrapped around you, dragging you back to your feet, urging you to keep going. A soft groan left your lips, as you did as he told you. Just a few more meters. A few more meters and you'd be over the next Dune. You’d be safe. You knew that the rest of your people weren’t far away. Neither was Sietch Tabr. You were almost sure that you were going to make it. That was until you saw Paul cry. Saw how his tears dropped into the hot sand, evaporating almost immediately. He knew the Rules of the Desert better than anyone else. And seeing him waste his Water so freely told you how serious the Situation was.

When you reached the top of the Dune, The Spice Harvester behind you exploded, sending the three of you flying down on the other side. Your ears rang from the Explosion. But you barely even acknowledged it. You tightly pressed your hand on top of the Wound as you tumbled down in the sand, but it  was useless. Finally, after what felt like ages, you released a scream. A scream so earth shattering, Paul later told you, he thought he’d lost you in that exact moment.

For a few Seconds, all you heard were your own wheezing Breaths, the blood rushing in your ears and the sand crunching beneath your Body. When Paul and Chani came into view, you heard their Voices. Loud and Clear. You wanted to answer them. Tell them that you were going to be fine.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t talk and if you could’ve, you didn’t even know if you could promise them that you were going to be alright. You so desperately wanted to talk to them. Talk to Paul. Tell him how much you loved him, that you would follow him to the very end. Talk to Chani, tell her how much you appreciated her, how thankful you were that she took you in and accepted her as one of her own People.

But you couldn’t. All you managed to do was lift your hand, even just a few centimeters above the Ground. And when Paul grabbed your hand, squeezed it ever so tightly, you knew that it was going to be alright. It had to be. it just had to.

And then you blacked out. 

You were older. So much older. At least ten years. Over the time, you’ve had many Spice-induced Visions. Never as strong as Pauls, only snippets. Short moments, often not far into the future, just a few weeks, a month tops. 

But this was different. This was at least a decade into the Future. And it felt so vivid, you almost thought it was real. When you saw your own face, older and more mature, standing alongside Paul and behind a long table that you knew was in the throne room of Arrakeen, many familiar faces gathered around it, alongside with some you didn’t know, yet. You knew you were not dead, you couldn’t be. For what reason would you be seeing this, if you weren’t going to make it. It would be worthless. 

As the Vision started to fade, you saw Paul look at you. Not at the older You, but at you. You who were observing this. And it felt like he could see you, standing there at the other side of the Table, smiling at you like he always did when he tried to comfort you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, but there was nothing you could do, as you felt your mind slip out of the vision and back into reality.

You heard all kinds of voices around you, most of them familiar. You felt the bed beneath your body, you smelled the warm air of Sietch Tabr. You knew you were Home. And when you finally opened your eyes, you heard a chorus of cheers break out around you. You saw the warm smile of Stilgar who patted your shoulder before he scurried off to tell the good news to the rest of the Fremen. Next you saw Lady Jessica, your Reverend Mother standing in the Corner of the Room. She gave you an acknowledging nod. You bowed your head in return, knowing that you probably owed her your survival.

Lastly, you saw Chani and Paul who were sitting at your bedside. When your Gaze wandered to them, as you sat up you couldn’t help but laugh. it was a warm and genuine Laugh. You were alive. You had made it and you would live to see them again, the people who mattered most to you. Chani smiled at you in return, gently squeezing your hand, before standing up to join Stilgar and the other Fremen outside.

Paul and You were the only People who remained in the now silent room.

“I thought I’d lost you.”, he finally sniffled. You slowly looked up, seeing that Tears were running down his face. “But you didn’t.”, You answered firmly, raising your hand to wipe away his tears,”So, stop wasting your water.”

Paul chuckled quietly, putting his hand on top of yours, closing his eyes in relief. With a grin, you leaned your head against his, swaying in the warm sun of Arrakis.

“Trust me, we have a bright Future ahead of Us.”

[chalametsimp]

Pink in the Night

Pairings: Timothée Chalamet x Reader

Summary: Your neighbor, Timothée tries for months on end to win you over after your first date. What ends up working? A cute visit to the coffee shop, where you’re able to see him as a regular

Warnings: fluff, kind of angsty.

Word Count: 2,640

Authors Notes: to the requester: hey babes this wasn’t a bad or long request, don’t be so hard on yourself. This was really cute and a hoot to write. I hope you enjoy it. Piece title and lyrics by Mitski. Also I highly recommend listening to the song it will make you feel things while reading this lol

masterlist

I glow pink in the night in my room

I glow pink in the night in my room

He had been enamored with you for a long time. Ever since the first day he had seen you, really. He had accidentally knocked down all of the library books you were carrying out of your apartment while he was rushing into his own apartment. Rushing to get away from paparazzi. A particularly large book had fell on your feet, he felt bad about it for days until he eventually ordered flowers to be delivered to your doorstep as an apology. Also because he had a thing for you. To put it lightly.

The first time you had seen him, you smiled. He was a lot more handsome in person than in the magazines. You recognized him, but not someone you knew well. “You’re that guy,” you had said. He loved that you didn’t really care who he was. He was just that guy you recognized. He always wanted to be more than that to you. He constantly thought about how to make you his and about you in general. Especially in the night time when he yearned for you, miserable knowing you were just down the hall.

And the first time he had asked you out on a date, you said yes. It came as a surprise to him, he didn’t think you would really say yes. He had hoped you would, even if it was a long shot. Timothée took care planning the perfect first date. It was perfect, even though everything he planned had fell through. It was perfect because you were together. The two of you got along great and really enjoyed your time together.

It ended in a kiss, one that he would think about and hold on to, only in memory, for months.

You had pulled him in by his rain soaked t-shirt, planting a wet kiss on his lips, right there in your apartment doorway. You invited him inside, where you talked and drank wine all night until you fell asleep on the couch, tangled up together.

I’ve been blossoming alone over you

That’s why it was so confusing to him as to why the next day, you weren’t returning his text messages. It confused him for a long time. A confusion that would haunt him until he found out why.

The times he saw you in that long hall and he managed to say something to you, it was never why? Why did you do this to me? It was always awkward and not very well thought out.

When his words failed, he tried other pursuits to try to win you over. The flowers just being one of them. Some days he would knock at your door, bring you coffee, tea, wine or sometimes lunch.

You were flattered and if you were being honest, you really really liked him too. The truth was, you couldn’t take the pressure. The one taste you had gotten so far, wasn’t something you’d enjoyed. It was the day after your first date, you had opened your phone when he had left. Your phone was filled with messages from your friends, linking nasty articles about you and Timothée. What was worse than the articles, were the comments. You didn’t know if you could handle all of that. It was a shame, because you thought about him just as much as he thought about you. Nothing could be sadder, than two people yearning for one another, with nothing but two doors separating their union.

And I hear my heart breaking tonight

The walls in the complex were thin, and he liked it best when he could hear you singing. When you sang, he knew you were happy. Those were his favorite days. On those days, he would write you love letters. Tokens of his appreciation that would never be sent. They would just sit in a pile by the windowsill, a shrine of his love. They would never even leave the confines of his apartment. He wrote in great detail about how much he adored you, all of the things he wanted to say in person but never quite could. Your singing days were usually the sunniest, your voice served as a soundtrack for his day-to-day life. His favorite soundtrack. He wished you were singing every day.

Do you hear it too?

On the days that he could hear you crying, he wept with you. His heart could barely stand to hold the weight of the world on these days. Your quiet sobs broke his heart every time. He would sit by his door, hand pressed to the wood, willing you to feel better. He wanted to leave you sleeping medication, but instead he would leave you more flowers. Occasionally, the appearance of the flowers would fix your loneliness. When his flowers could dry up the well of your tears…. well, those were his second favorite kinds of days.

However, today, was his best day yet. He caught you right at the perfect moment. Today was the day you would finally agree to go out with him again.

You stepped out of your apartment, he stepped out at the same moment. You looked great, he prayed you weren’t going out with another boy today. Those were the worst days. He thought about all the times he had to suffer when some piece of shit would come knocking on your door, asking for your affections. Every time he wanted to shoo them away, to say “fuck off, she’s mine.” But he never did.

It’s like a summer shower

With every drop singing

I love you, I love you, I love you

“Y-you look gorgeous.” He stated, you turned to look at him from over your shoulder as you locked your door. You smiled at him, and his heart nearly combusted. The sun through his open door hit your sundress perfectly.

“Thanks Timothée,” a giggle, “you don’t look so bad yourself. What are you up to?” You’d hoped it came off as neighborly, you always tried your best to hide how much you liked him, and how much you liked to look at him.

He looked handsome in his white button down and t-shirt, hair just a little bit wild like always. You loved it. “I’m going out to get some coffee, would you like to join me?” His eyebrow raised and you pretended to think about it. Only for a moment. Your heart swelled. Oh good, he doesn’t hate me, you thought. Sometimes you would cry at night at the thought of never contacting him again.

You smiled again, his words washing away your sad thoughts “I was just about to go for a stroll, I’m thinking I could go for some coffee too.”

His heart leapt in his chest when you agreed. He immediately held out his hand for you to hold, he was desperate to feel your skin again. You were desperate to feel him too. Timothée was tired of only interacting with small quips and tiny glances. He relished even the moments where he’d watch you through the peep hole, wishing he could be the one twirling the hair that fell down your back.

I love you, I love you, I love you

I could stare at your back all day

You walked out of the complex together, fingers interlocked, palms not touching. There was something uniquely intimate about it. You were thankful that there wasn’t anyone outside when you walked through the threshold. You hated the crowds.

But you loved holding hands with Timothée. You snuck glances at him as you walked through the city together. You thought about how beautiful he looked. He always looked beautiful. In your eyes, he was too much to be into you. He was beautiful, famous and seemed to be on the surface, incredibly cool. It must have been a joke. You shook your head to try and shake away the thought along with it. This isn’t middle school, people don’t do that anymore. A pink fanned across his cheeks from the morning wind. Ethereal. He must have noticed this because he turned to look at you, near award winning smile coming out to play. It made you want to cry, because you really wanted to look at it forever. His thumb rubbed softly against the top of your hand. Goosebumps. “How was your week?” You asked him.

“How was m-my week?” He spluttered, it was hard for him to think when your skin was touching. Timothée’s eyebrows furrowed together, confused. “My week!” He felt like an idiot for his temporary memory loss.

Timothée continued on when he came back to earth “My week was busy, I’ve been working on a couple of new projects I’m excited about.” He didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to talk about you, and talk with you about things that were worth talking about. What he was working on was important to him, but it was something he talked about to press, to the world, not something he wanted to talk about with you. Not because he didn’t want you to know. He wanted you to know him, in a way that no one else could. “What about you? How was your week?”

You shrugged your shoulders and looked over at him “I’ve been working on a couple of songs. Nothing serious, just for fun, a couple of open mics.”

“I’ve heard you singing before, you sound really great.” Really man? You had to say that out loud? She probably thinks you’re a creep now, he thought and shoved his freehand into his pocket. He was just as intimidated by you.

Your smile grew wide and you blushed “Really? That’s so cute. Thank you.” Thank the heavens, it didn’t seem like you thought it was weird.

You on the other hand, wanted to run and hide. Hearing that from someone with exceptional taste made you fear the worst. Was he being sarcastic?

Suddenly he stopped walking which forced you to stop on the path too. The two of you were almost to the coffee shop. You turned to look at him, perplexity painted all over your face. Oh fuck. “What’s wrong?” Timothée just stood there and stared at you, he looked like he might cry. Looked like he might cry but he had a smile on his lips.

“You just look so gorgeous,” he hesitated before he spoke his next words, afraid this might scare you off for good. But he had to ask. He didn’t think he would have any peace if he didn’t “and I can’t figure out what I did wrong here? Did I come on too strong? What did I do?” His voice was pleading and it was so desperate you couldn’t help yourself from walking to where he stood. You faced him and sighed softly. You wanted to kiss him again. You wanted to embrace him. You wanted to dive into anything he wanted. You wanted what he wanted, if it meant you could be with him. The thought terrified you however. You had only caught a glimpse of what that could mean for your life, for your mental health. Could you handle it?

“I wish I could tell you how often I think of you.” You started, hand coming up to press against his shirt. His knees nearly buckled and the sun started to shine brighter. The touch of an angel. “And of how often I think of the things said about me.” Your eyes fell from his face now, to peer at the hand on his chest. It looked right. It felt right. It felt better when his hand moved to cover yours, cold decorative rings grazing your skin.

“I’m sorry,” Timothée frowned, having an idea of what you were referring to “I know it’s a lot to deal with. It’s a lot to ask someone to put up with. I’m sorry I can’t say that I can make it all go away.” His hand squeezed yours gently.

Timothée continued, “I can try to make your other troubles go away though. I’ll try my best. I’ll be so good to you. I just want a chance to show you the actual Timothée, please. I don’t want anyone else to know me.” He paused and bit his lip gently, forcing his gaze away out of nervousness. “Fuck all the noise, just give me a chance.”

“It is a lot to ask of someone..” You lamented, voice quiet and sad. Your gaze moved to meet his, and his stare sent a warmth through your body “But I want you so bad, I feel like it might not matter..” Maybe you would give him a chance.

“Oh god, I want you so bad, you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that.” He was beaming now and he tried is hardest to contain himself. Timothée grabbed your face in his hands.

“I know I've kissed you before,

but I didn't do it right

Can I try again?”

You laughed at him and playfully rolled your eyes “Technically, I kissed you.”

“Maybe I misinterpreted the situation,” he chuckled and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours.

“So are you going to try again or are you just going to stand there looking handsome?” At the sound of your brevity a blush rose to his cheeks and he finally pressed his lips to yours. You smiled against each other, your arm coming to wrap around his neck to pull him closer.

You reluctantly pulled away, not without giving him one more quick kiss. “I guess I could give you a chance.” You were turning on your heel and beckoning him to follow you into the coffee shop to order. “Another coffee for old times sake?” He followed after you.

Timothée felt strange walking into the coffee shop he had been into so many times. He always went alone. But not today. The baristas looked up at him with wide eyes. You expected them to say something about how it’s the Timothée Chalamet.

To your surprise, one of them spoke up and said “Oh my gosh, is this her?” You turned to look at a very embarrassed Timothée. He shifted on his feet and held a finger above his lips, a silent begging of please shut up!

“What do you mean?” You laughed and approached the counter, leaving him standing in the door way, blushing bright red.

A girl wearing an apron steps forward and chuckles, motioning to the sheepish man. “This one right here, comes here every week and gushes about you. ‘Do you think she would like this flavor? What about this scone? Would she like it? Is the Lavender syrup too much lavender?’ I just never thought I would see the day when you actually came in with him.” She exasperated before taking your coffee order. You were laughing now, blushing along with him.

You turned to face him and he looked like he wanted to just sink into the floor. “Yeah, this is her.” He wanted to disappear. Instead he approached you, settling his hand on the small of your back. He ordered his own coffee.

“She’s cute, I like her.” Another barista yelled from the back and you giggled quietly, curling into his side.

The two of you sat outside and chatted about things that mattered, and your hearts felt full after long months of being separated by life and hesitations. You spent the better part of the day together before you had to reluctantly separate for work things.

He had asked you on a second first date. Now the both of you had something sweet to look forward to, to get you by.

[eu-nicola]

Now that I watched Dune, it's time to write for any character, specific Paul and Feyd-Rautha

open requests

[timotheechlamett]

Sunshine part 2?

SUNSHINE PT. 2

Part 1

WARNINGS: pining, angst, fluff

——————————————

The first time I laid eyes on regulus Black, I knew I needed him. He wasn’t the most talkative, nor was he the nicest but I saw him, I noticed him.

So I sat next to him in the library, everyday in fact. I was determined to break this face he put on, a face so transparent, that anyone who really saw him would see through it.

He knew everything about me including my favorite color, in exchange, though it took time, I knew everything he gave me about himself too.

I couldn’t help the looks I gave him even if he caught me, I just wish he knew how I felt.

He isn’t anything like people said.

It’s been a couple months since I’ve been in his company, we’ve shared a lot together in this time. I even knew his favorite color.

Blue.

But today was an exceptionally brilliant day.

Today was the day I finally decided to voice my feelings about Regulus to himself. I would tell him what he meant to me, the feelings I’ve harbored for these couple months would no longer be thoughts in my head.

He didn’t speak all that much, which wasn’t abnormal, I took to rambling more than usual. I blame it on my nerves but it felt worse because he wasn’t saying anything at all.

I rack my brain for a subject he would comment on hoping I wasn’t annoying him, “Oh! Have you started on your Potions essay? I still can’t choose which po-“

“Why are you here everyday I am?” He interrupts me.

Because I love you.

“What do you mean by that?” I look up at him and tilt my head, giving a small smile.

“Would you not rather be by your friends?” He looks up at me finally.

This might be easier than I thought.

“Well I- aren’t we friends? I want to spend time with you-” I smile and my hand goes to reach for his from under the table before he cuts me off again.

“Are we?” He spits.

I retract my hand and my smile falters as I furrow my brows in confusion. I open my mouth to reply but-

“I mean you’ve gone out of your own way to sit next to me for the past two months, every single day. I don’t exactly remember extending an invitation.” His words sting like salt and lemon in a wound.

I no longer feel the happiness to smile, instead I feel the overwhelming hurt that makes hot tears prick my eyes, that makes my heart beat into my ears, a hurt that makes my throat dry enough to silence me.

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I cry, “Y/N you don’t need to cry.” I look at him as he has the audacity to act annoyed, maybe sympathetic if I didn’t know better.

I wrap my bag around my shoulder, and with the question of ‘Are you leaving’, and with his insincere apology, I broke.

I broke and told him what I had planned to, he said nothing, which is in fact, worse than anything, literally anything else.

I walked away.

I walked away from him, I walked away and he didn’t even come after me.

So I sulked back to my dorm with tears streaming down my face and let my feelings loose. I cried harder. I laid there all day and felt sorry for myself, but I was warned.

You should’ve known better.

———————-

I notice the hurt less now.

I spend more time with my friends and also making them, I almost feel normal again.

Whenever I catch a glimpse of him I still feel the emptiness of his company everyday. Of our bonding, of his smile, and the way he smells. But he hurt me.

He gave me meaning to feeling blue.

It’s been a month now and I find myself missing him more recently. So I try to open myself up to other boys, but none compare.

I can’t be happy without him.

I stalk down the empty corridor stuck in my thoughts, running my hand across the brick as I walk.

“Y/N?” I turn to meet the voice.

I stand across from Regulus completely frozen. He stares for a moment before speaking again, “Can I please talk to you?” He takes a step toward me.

I move back a step, “Please I- please just let me talk to you.” He says quietly, taking a couple more steps forward.

“Please let me apologize.” He continues walking forward, I stay frozen in my spot.

He looks down at me, slowly bringing his hand to grasp my own pulling me nearly flush to his chest. I look up meeting his gaze.

“I miss you, so much.” His fingers interlace with mine, “I was such a fucking ass, you never deserved that. I’m so sorry.” His eyes are pleading.

I grip his hand back and let out a shaky breath, “It’s okay-“

“No. No it’s not okay, I hurt you and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I couldn’t wrap my head around why someone like you, would want to be around me.” He brings his free hand up to run his thumb over my cheek.

“You could be with anyone, someone who isn’t so cold and sour all the time. Someone who’s as bright and wonderful as you. You could have whoever you want-“

“But I wanted you Regulus. I wanted you and I chose you. I will always choose you.” I feel tears run down my cheek and close my eyes.

He sighs and places his forehead on mine, his hand finds the back of my neck, his other hand grips mine tighter.

“And I will always choose you.” He whispers.

“Regulus?” I whisper.

“Hm?” His fingers find their way to my hair.

“Please kiss me.”

I can feel his smile as our lips meet, its as equally hungry as it is wanting. I wind my hands into his hair and pull him closer, wanting more of him, all of him.

We sigh into the kiss before he releases my hand and places his on the small of my back, he glides his tongue across my bottom lip, a silent ask for entrance which I grant.

Our tongues fight for dominance, the taste of him making me dizzy, I can’t help but want more.

“Never leave me again.” He breaks apart from me, panting slightly.

“Never.” I say breathlessly before devouring him all over again.