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milksnake-tea · 7 months

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❀ ˎˊ- prompt: how they are in a vampire au ❀ ˎˊ- characters: blade, dan heng, dan feng, march 7th, himeko, jingliu, jing yuan, kafka, luocha, sampo, caelus, stelle, yaoshi ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: lots of mentions of blood and wounds, the typical vampire stuff, talks about scents, usage of the word "feeding", intended lowercase, mentions of alcohol in kafka's part, caelus/stelle may be ooc :| ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: NEVER REALLY ANNOUNCED IT BUT YAHOO HERE U GO !!! THE WINNER OF THE POLL WAS VAMPIRES, SO LETS GO ITS BITING TIME HEHE <3 different format bc damn thats a lot of characters i dont have banners for... also first time writing them women so scratches head sorry if it's ooc teehee i tried

vampire!blade, whose bloodlust runs deeper than most. his desires drive him to the brink of insanity at the slightest whiff of blood, the former human despising the animalistic tendencies that now governed his existence. with his enemies, he is content to lick their blood from his face, finding no remorse in the blood of the dead. but when he dares to drink from you, he is gentle - cautious. always his eyes are watching your own, especially before he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck. for blade is prone to losing himself in the taste of you, and he fears he may go too far.

vampire!dan heng, who despises his species more than any hunter out there. he longs for the normality and companionship of humanity, and often hides his vampiric traits in public as to masquerade as a human. the only time he'll satiate his desire for blood is when he's on death's door; and even then he'll only settle for blood bags at the dead of night, away from any of the eyes of his fellow trailblazers. when the time comes and you offer your blood to him, dan heng is reluctant, hesitant. never in his life has he fed on another, and you can feel his inexperience in how he cautiously sinks his fangs into your skin - opting to kiss your wrist rather than your neck, just in case he lost control.

vampire!dan feng, who will outright refuse blood that he deems to be unsatisfactory to his palate. even if his dietary needs are considered monstrous by other species, that doesn't mean that he himself needs to be barbaric. dan feng treats blood as he would wine - like a delicacy, only to be partaken on occasion. but all of that is thrown out the window once he tastes you for the first time. when dan feng drinks your blood, he does it with the tenderness of a lover. always, he keeps you against a comfortable surface such as a bed or a sofa as his lips latch onto your neck, taking his time as he savors you like a fine dish.

vampire!march 7th, who never really questioned why she needed to drink blood to survive, and always deemed it as normal. although, she doesn't really consider it cute, claiming that it "ruins her cute-girl aesthetic". as such, she won't talk about it unless you start the conversation first, preferring to disguise her blood intake in the juice boxes she keeps around. even when she does drink from you, it's in small sips, a mere nip before she's off to doing something more fun. don't take it personally, march just isn't fond of drinking from another person. she appreciates you offering, though!

vampire!himeko, whose taste is questionable, even for a vampire. for a second, you thought that her horrendous taste in coffee came from her background, but no, it's just himeko being himeko. unlike her other companions, himeko isn't ashamed of her needs. if she needs blood, she beckons you from across the parlor car, taking your arm in her hand as she gently bites your wrist. there's something playful in the way she drinks - she's gentle, yet doesn't treat you as though you're made of glass, a soft giggle leaving her lips as she licks the wound on your wrist.

vampire!jingliu, who makes sure you understand just what you're getting into when you offer your blood. it's hard enough to keep both her mara and her bloodlust at bay around you, and even harder to control herself when you're so willing to help her. time and time again she warns you, saying that she may not be able to control herself once she gets a taste. but if you're strong and brave enough to feed her despite the dangers, then brace yourself, for jingliu won't stop until she's fully satiated.

vampire!jing yuan, who loves to nip at your fingers playfully, flashing his fangs whenever he can. honestly, jing yuan's the type of person to forget he's a vampire until the time comes and he needs to feed - and even then, it's more of an inconvenience to him than anything else. but that won't stop him from messing with you, after all, he loves the disgruntled face you make whenever he pretends to snap at you. however, when jing yuan does drink from you, he prefers to take it from the back, hugging you from behind as he languidly drinks from your shoulder - making sure the process is as painless as possible.

vampire!kafka, who teases you when you first find out of her species. are you afraid of her now? how cute, but really, there's no need to be afraid. she wouldn't hurt you, not intentionally, at least. kafka can't help but laugh as you playfully hit her for her words. can you blame her, though, when your reactions are just that endearing? kafka isn't one to take blood directly from the source, instead, she prefers to drink it in a wine glass, mixed with some sort of alcohol to really amp up the effects. having both wine and blood in one drink can be quite intoxicating to a vampire, but kafka wouldn't be kafka if she were afraid of the after effects.

vampire!luocha, who becomes addicted to your blood the second he tastes it. over his lifetime, luocha has tasted the blood of many, each with their own flavors - ranging from savory to sweet to downright disgusting. but with you, the drinking of blood is less so a matter of feeding, but rather an intimate act between lovers. he is tender as his lips latch onto your neck, his arms wrapped around you and hands massaging you to ease you through the process. and through it all, his eyes forever hold your gaze as he tastes heaven once again.

vampire!caelus, whose inexperience often makes him dangerous. caelus doesn't know how to deal with his urges, nor does he understand why a hunger builds up within him whenever he sees an exposed patch of your skin. he's a sweet guy, no doubt about it, it's just that he doesn't know how to stop. it's up to you to guide him and tell him when to stop, for caelus is young, and doesn't understand the durability of the human body compared to a vampire. but he's willing to learn, even if it means driving off his own needs in favor of yours. the last thing he wants to do is to hurt you, after all.

vampire!stelle, who nuzzles up to you whenever she feels the slightest thirst for blood. like caelus, stelle has no idea what she's feeling nor how to deal with it. when she starts getting hungry, she becomes clingy - she starts hanging around you more, often staring at you and leaving you to wonder just what it is she wants. it's only when she starts tugging at your sleeve that you realize that she's hungry. when stelle drinks, it's... well, it's not as unhinged as caelus, but she still lacks the control as he does, and you have to tap her head to snap her out of it. but when she's done drinking, you can't help but coo at her adorable face, like a kitten full of soup.

vampire!yaoshi, who prefers to give their blood rather than drink it. they would hate to put anyone in danger, after all. but alas, their instincts won't disappear, even after their ascension to aeonhood. ironic, isn't it? the giver and sustainer of eternal life is also the same one who drains that life. when they feed from you, they prefer to have you in their arms as they do, your back pressed against their chest as they drink. they whisper sweet nothings each time they rise from your skin, their tongue licking at your wound to soothe you. but it never hurts when it's with yaoshi - perhaps it's the dew from yaoshi's trees that numbs you, or the poison in their tail. if anything, you feel as though you are in a hazy dream, not yet asleep, yet not quite awake either.

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fangirl-dot-com · 1 month

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🐍 Track 2 - . . . Ready for It?

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

I'm sorry to the ones I couldn't tag. If you do want notifications for when I post, there's always that option as well!

Logan had a new phone. And for the first time in a while, it felt nice to just be disconnected from the world for a bit. The people who truly mattered had his phone number. His Instagram had been wiped, along with every other social media. The American had gone dark.

And apparently you had done the same thing.

His parents and brother knew where he would be, just in case for emergencies. However, he asked them to not text much. He needed time away, well, away from the current grid. It hurt him, seeing how supportive everyone was with Theo. No one had ever congratulated him when he first got signed. Hell, even Oscar hadn’t known right away, claiming he had forgotten.

Of course, he had given you his new number because you’d be the only person he previously knew that he’d still be in contact with. You also gave Logan you’re new number, having similar ideas to your friend.

Well, he had given George his new number. The Briton had texted his old number in a panic-like manner when Logan deactivated everything. Under a temporary contract, Logan wasn’t legally allowed to tell George anything except that he was safe and needed time away.

The brunet was not happy with that, but he let Logan know that if he needed anything, he would come running. A bit of happiness let itself seep into Logan’s heart, thankful for the Mercedes driver’s friendship.

When he had read the email after the social media posts went up, his mind blanked.

What did Andretti want with him? A washed-out jobless nobody. He believes they should have been looking at someone like Carlos or even Ollie, who was making good times in F2 car. It had to be anyone but him.

So why was it him?

He had been about to call you when you had first facetimed him on his laptop. He couldn’t even get words about before you started screeching. Logan chuckled as you went on a rant, as this could be their big break. His silence had given you a look into how he was truly feeling.

Your voice had quieted down on the device.

“You’re going to take the offer right?”

Logan winced at your tone, which gave you the information you needed. You rolled your eyes as you sat on your bed.

“Logan, we were just dropped by two teams that didn’t even want us. They pushed us away like we were nothing. And now, there’s a team with top potential that truly wants us, and you don’t want to take the opportunity?”

The American boy sighed. You had a point.

“I’m just scared that I’m going to get there, and then make a fool out of myself. Then Michael is going to see how truly bad of a driver I am,” he hugged out.

You could hear the fear in his voice, and it devastated you. Where did your confident and smiley boy go? Williams would pay for it, one way or another.

You were hesitant to say something.

“Logan, even if our times aren’t what we’re wanting at first, Michael said that we will get better. He’s sent my manager some data and it looks like we are scarily similar with our driving styles. Logan, the car is going to be made for us. Michael made sure that I knew that we’d have a chance, because I’m not driving if you’re not. Together or nothing, we come as a package.”

Logan sat up quickly off his bed. He glared at you through his laptop.

“You did not just quote Charles Leclerc to me.”

“And what if I did?”

“No, you can’t give this offer up if I don’t drive.”

You glared back at him, although you had a smile.

“It’s either both of us, or none of us. I’m tired of never seeing you, and you need a friend you can count on. I’m sorry to say but Oscar has done a very shit job of being your friend. I’d say that George is a better friend than him.”

Logan sighed. “No, you’re right. It’s just hard to accept that.”

Your smile dropped a bit.

“Logan, he was supposed to be your friend and then he dropped you. Everyone had dropped you so many times and you’ve been the one to pick yourself back up. But now, you’ve been dropped a final time, yet someone wants to be the first to help you back up, to clean your wounds, and to heal you. And now you don’t even want that?”

You had a point.

Like always.

“Your words never seem to fail me woman.”

“That’s because men are the inferior being.”

Logan snorted.

“Will I see you in Milan next week?” you asked with hopeful eyes. Logan could see the glimmer that shined in them. He didn’t want to be the person to damped that.

“I will see you in Milan.”

The first thing that popped into Logan’s mind when he got to the base was “Holy Shit.”

The building was massive as he walked through the giant doors. He really thought that this was a movie set with how grand it was. Surely this couldn’t it? Maybe he had the wrong address.

“Mr. Sargeant?”

Or maybe he did. His body turned to the lady standing near the front desk. He showed a smile that was definitely a tad too wide and showed too many teeth. Thankfully the lady didn’t show any malice as she sweetly grinned at the blond.

“Yes ma’am. That’s me.”

Always the good southern-hospitality manners with him.

“I’m glad you could make it. If you’d follow me, Michael is waiting in his office for you.”

Logan breathed a sigh of relief when he finally knew that he didn’t have to circumnavigate the entirety of the building.

The air was fresh as he walked behind the lady, who he now knew as Marissa Andretti, Michael’s sister and Head of Directors. Her own American accent was like a comforting blanket to Logan. Gosh, did he miss hearing a familiar voice to his own during 2023.

The one voice he couldn’t wait to hear was your own. He knew he’d be safe once he heard the lisps of a Southern draw when you talked. The slurred vowels and the biting consonants would be music to his ears.

“How have you liked the simulator and the data so far?” Marissa asked as she led Logan down yet another hallway. How big was this building and were they leading him to his death?

Yet, despite his concerns, Logan was very happy with the results.

“The car is already so fast. It’s like it’s just an extension of me instead of working against me. It feels so right.”

Technically, Logan had been on the first plane to Milan to start testing, as his own anxiety wouldn’t let him wait until the week was up. You had your own simulator back in the States, so you did your testing there. Logan had been back in London when the email came, and his set up was not going to function with the high tech that Andretti needed.

Marissa smiled over her shoulder. “Good, that is exactly what we are wanting to hear.”

Finally, she stopped in front of a door that had a giant-ass A on the front. Logan wanted to laugh at the cinematics. Surely, this was a movie and he was going to be the main character. Marissa pushed a button and the door slowly swung open.

Logan’s smile grew once he saw you in one of the very plush seats in front of the desk. You immediately stood up and jumped into his arms. He breathed deeply and all weight slowly melted from his body. It had been so long since he had gotten to hug you, hold you, feel you.

When you pulled away, you had a blinding smile on your face.

“Glad to see you here Logs.”

His nose scrunched at the old nickname.

“I don’t think you’ve called me that since we were 12, Y/n.”

You huffed.

“Fine, no nickname for you.”

“I take it back. I ban you from calling me Logan.”

“Isn’t that your name?”

“No?”

“Logs!”

“Ah there it is!”

A cough signaled to Logan that they weren’t actually alone. He sheepishly turned around to face the man who, hopefully after this meeting, would be his boss for a couple of years. Logan turned his full body towards the desk and stepped with his hand outstretched.

Michael had a knowing smile as he shook Logan’s hand.

“I am so sorry sir, I didn’t even realize that you were already here, and I haven’t seen her in a while, and it’s so good to just here the accents because the grid is entirely too European and Asian, sometimes I couldn’t even understand them, and…”

Michael put his hands on Logan’s shoulders.

“It’s just fine kid. I totally get you.”

Logan visibly relaxed under Michael’s hands.

“Now, why don’t you sit down and we can start talking contracts.”

Logan lit up at the word.

“Contracts?”

You gave him a smirk.

“Yes Logs, contracts.”

Logan felt as though he couldn’t breathe. But this time, it was with excitement and not dread. His butt quickly found the seat next to yours. Marissa left the room with promises of coming back with celebratory drinks.

Michael pulled out two small stacks of paper before he started speaking.

“So, I’ve talked with both of your managers and we’ve come up with a contract. You two can look over it as I read the big details. The finer print is stuff that you both have already previously gone over, but you are still encouraged to look over it one final time.”

You and Logan had the same exact papers.

In the initial emailing process, the two of you had voiced that you were a packaged deal. Logan was surprised to see that Michael had said that he wouldn’t want it any other way and was glad to possibly not have to deal with drivers hating each other. Logan thought anything would be better than Brocedes 2016.

You looked down at the words as Michael read them out loud.

“Ok, so in the contract, the two of you will be signed until 2027. There is an exit clause in section C, but we are not allowed to terminate prior to 2027. The two of you will be granted ambassadorship with whatever sponsors we’ve received. The sponsorships are in section E and it gives a rundown of each one and what they will be contributing to the team.

“Per secrecy of wanting to keep the identities secret until we reach the grid for testing, the two of you will go under pseudonyms.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Like a call sign?”

Marissa flashed a wicked grin.

“Exactly like a call sign.”

You continued, “Do we get to come up with them?”

Michael clasped his hands. “So we thought that Y/n could go by Phoenix and then Logan would go Venus.”

Your eyes widened as you took in the name. Wasn’t too bad, you thought.

Logan let out a sigh of relief. “At least it’s not like Eagle or something. That would be super obvious.”

The boss-man chuckled before he looked back down at the contract.

“Since the two of you did not specify a salary, we took the liberty to come up with one ourselves. But please feel free to mention what you’d like and we can always raise it. We also liked to put in that for every point scored, the two of you get a bonus as a little incentive. The salary will not be dropped no matter if points are scored or not. Think of it as a baseline.”

Michael chuckled as he watched yours and Logan’s eyes drastically widen at the sight of the eight digits before the decimal. Logan gulped at the sight.

“Michael, I think you added too many zeros.”

“I think I didn’t add enough.”

Logan couldn’t respond.

You looked up from the paper to Michael. “I think it’s high enough.”

The goateed-man smiled back at you and continued.

“I’ve seen the skills parts on your resumes and thankfully the two of you do not need to learn Italian from scratch. I don’t even know when the two of you had time to learn it, but thankfully it is not required in meetings or in the garage.”

Logan smirked as he looked at the words.

“What’s the fun in that? We can have secret conversations with ourselves.”

You tapped his shoulder.

“Except Ferrari will know and maybe Lewis.”

“I’ll have my Duolingo account at the ready.”

Michael watched as the two of you pored over the papers and bickered like an old married couple. He and Marissa already had a bet going to see when the two of you would get together. But, you didn’t need to know that.

“I digress. You can speak in Italian if you want to. The next couple of sections are just PR related. The two of you wanted to bring you own teams in, which is fine. I’ve sent emails and meeting times to each of them and have been replied to. All is in motion. Logan, you mentioned something to me once about your personal trainer leaving?”

A sigh left his lips at the mention of Benny. He really didn’t want anyone else. He slowly nodded.

“He had to leave to be with his family. Williams wasn’t the most accommodating and he was told that he had to be at every race. Normally I didn’t even need him until race day. He’d miss so much time with his family because of traveling and things like that.”

“Well, I think we have you covered.”

Logan looked back down at the paper. A small gasp left his lips.

Ben Jacobs was written in black ink under “Personal Trainer.”

“How?”

Michael smiled.

“It took some convincing, but he said he’d come back for you. Of course, Ben will be highly compensated to return after he said he wouldn’t. His family will also be accommodated for any race that they’d like to attend and Ben can show up however late he needs. His leave will also be paid time as well.”

Logan could kiss the man if he could. Tears pooled in his eyes and he could only manage a small thank you. Your hand rested on his shoulder in comfort. He just couldn’t wait to see him again.

“Looks like that is everything. Are you two ready to sign?”

Yours and Logan’s heads nodded eagerly as pens were uncapped. There was light scratching for a few moments as you filled out the needed information on the multiple sheets of paper. Once everything was completed, you let out a sigh of relief. You and Logan could finally do this.

Marissa showed up at the right moments with a few different beverages. You took one of the iced americanos, claiming that Italian espresso was, in fact, the best kind. Logan surprised you as he took a mimosa.

He side-eyed you.

“It’s freshly squeezed orange juice and you cannot go wrong with it. It’s a classic.”

You held you drink up and your other hand in mock surrender.

Michael took a black coffee and sipped it.

“Now, onto the fun stuff.”

Your eyebrows pinched. “Fun stuff?”

Michael smirked before pulling up a projector that was attached to his laptop. He started to click through the slides.

“First, the car.”

On the slide was a sleek yellow and black livery. The black really highlighted the tamer yellow.

Michael pointed at it.

“This is our 2024 livery. We designed it awhile back, but it’s finally going to be used.”

You let out a whistle as a video played the engine noise. To you, it sounded fast. You had been able to do a few laps with an actual car to get the feel of it since IndyCar were so much different. Michael claimed though that you were a natural in the car, being able to command it to what you needed it to do. Logan was quite the same.

The next slide showed multiple models of Lamborghinis. With it came a smirk from the sister and brother pair.

Logan looked at them.

“I don’t know whether to be excited about the smirks or nervous.”

Marissa was the one to pull up something on her personal iPad. She showed the official Lamborghini website.

“Because the two of you will now technically ambassadors for Lambo as well, you two need to pick out what models the two of you would like to own. For now, we can start with one, but Tonino wanted his drivers to start a small collection.”

You made her pause.

“Tonino, as in, Tonino Lamborghini?”

Marissa sent a gentle smile to calm you down.

“Yes. Mr. Tonino will be at quite a few races to watch. He has mentioned wanting to see Ferrari fail, but our data is saying that although we look promising, there’s not guarantee.”

Logan exhaled sharply.

“No pressure right?”

Michael leaned forward over the desk.

“Listen to me Logan. You have been with a team that has now destroyed every bit of self-confidence. Mr. Tonino is actually the one who put your name on my radar. If you’re good enough for him, you need to believe that you’re good enough for everyone else.”

Logan was taken back. Mr. Tonino was the one to bring him up? He felt honored in a good way. A nod of his head let Michael and Marissa know that they could continue. Logan turned your way, only to find you already smiling at him. He hoped that he could always be on the receiving end of that smile.

Marissa continued where she left off.

“Just look over the models and customize it however you’d like. We’ll get it sent to the factory to be made in time for the first race in Bahrain. These cars will be shipped along with our supplies so you can always have them.”

You smirked. “I’ve always wanted a black Lamborghini Aventador.”

Logan turned to Marissa. “I’d love a black Lamborghini Huracan.”

A smile grew on your face. “Aw, Logan. We’ll get matching Lambos.”

Logan thought that if you had been an emoji, you’d be the one with the big teary eyes and a pout. Marissa looked pleased at the requests for the different models.

You raised your hand. “Do we need to start looking for places to stay here in Milan?”

Michael lifted his eyebrows.

“You don’t actually. Between races, the two of you are more than welcome to either go home or adventure somewhere. We will let you know when it is crucial to come back here to do some testing. Housing is provided when you need to be here. There are multiple estates that can be used on bought property.”

You and Logan definitely liked the sound of that. Maybe you could stay in close villas or something. Or maybe in the same place as you tended to get lonely. That’s what being pushed out of everything does to someone in a year. You can’t remember the last time that you were invited to do something with the team, always retreating to your small hotel room after a race. You feel as though Logan might feel the same.

Michael moved to the next slide, showing the race suits.

“These are the suits for the season. Black or white fireproofs will go well with them. Helmets are up to the two of you. You will need on standard for some races and then you can choose what races you want fun ones to be. Miami, Austin, Las Vegas, and Imola are going to be considered our home races.”

“What about Monza?” Logan questioned.

Michael had a glint in his eyes.

“That will forever belong to the Tifosi I’m afraid.”

You decided to pipe up.

“Or Charles Leclerc. I feel like wherever he goes, the Tifosi goes with him. You make him trade teams, the Italians will follow him.”

Logan shot you a teasing look.

“You always have to bring him up in one way or another.”

You shrugged.

“He’s a good driver. Let’s not bring up that you’re such a fanboy for Max Verstappen of all people.”

Logan’s torso shifted.

“It’s not every day that one beats Sir Lewis Hamilton and take away his 8th championship!”

Laughs erupted from Michael and Marissa, making you and Logan pause. You cleared your throat.

“Sorry, please continue.”

Michael went a bit further with the slides, going over compatible data to the car. He went over sponsors and things like that before he finally leaned back into his chair.

“Are we able to drive the cars today?”

Much like you were, Logan was itching to be back behind the wheel. And hopefully, the wheel belonged to a reliable car.

Michael stood from where he sat, making you and Logan also rise to your feet.

“I’d thought you’d never ask,” he said, making his way to the door. When the two of you didn’t follow, he turned back around.

“Are you ready for it?”

lamborghini_racing has posted

Lamborghini_racing Are you ready for it?

liked by y/n.nation, logang2, box_box_express, and 4,205,095 others

l4mbo.child a hello or how are you doing WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE

f1_fan I fear they have gagged the entire grid with this

ferrariforza damn, I thought we had the best livery - sorry kings 👑

lambo_drivers all I'm asking is who is going to be driving this beast?

lo-girlies do I even utter his name in fear that it might not happen?

y/nfan or even utter her name?

thepaddock_person who 🤨

childofF1 I'll say it - LOGAN AND Y/N FOR LAMBO 2024

box_box_express the paint, the yellow, the black, the lighting, THE EVERYTHING

taylorswiftxf1 I see the admin is a Taylor fan??

phoenix95 has posted

phoenix95 baby let the games begin

liked by venus2, Lamborghini_racing, y/n.nation, dior, and 2,195,086 others

4theF1_girlies EXCUSE MEEEEEEE

driver95 ayo - we got the Lightning McQueen number with a queen

lambo_duo oh gosh I hope I live to see the day that they reveal their drivers

venus2 looking snazzy 😎

phoenix95 no one ever says that anymore

venus2 🥺

phoenix95 fine...thank you

venus2 🥰

venusxphoenix WHOEVER THEY ARE - THEY HAVE MY HEART

rising_phoenix95 immediate fan

lambo_child the Aventador is such a slay 💅

lambof1 I wonder if they have like matching cars with their contracts

venus2 has posted

venus2 let the games begin now

liked by phoenix95, marissa_andretti, Lamborghini_racing, and 4,205,850 others

lambof1 I THINK I CALLED IT?? THE MATCHING BLACK CARS

pitstop_nightmare I'M SORRY FERRARI BUT THIS IS TOO SEXY

lamborghinivsferrari THE HURACAN 🥵😱

c16_leclerc I'm guessing they went to Charles's school of serving cunt

hamilton44lewis and graduated with a degree in slay

phoenix95 that's sexy baby

venus2 thanks 😚

phoenix95 ...I was talking about the car?

venus2 sure...sure you were 😈

box_box_express I feel like I have some sleuthing to do - hold please

logansarg2 I miss Logan so much - it's heartbreaking to see all of his accounts go dark, I guess I'll have to stan this dude instead

y/n.nation I miss our girl so much

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jongseongsnudes · 4 months

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THE NIKI DRABBLE WAS SO ADORBSSSS CAN I PLEASE MAKE A REQUEST!

- Haruto (!!the instigator!!) helps the couple back together after a dumb fight

0.8k words. slight angst, cringey & fluffyyyyyyy.

“nishimura is the most annoying-est person to ever live! why does everyone like him!”

“you like him.”

“not only that! but he has the audacity to yell at me for what? for trying to help him?”

“that’s your fault. you’re dating him.”

you stop complaining and glare over to haruto, who was too busy driving to notice your newly raised brows.

“watanabe you’re not helping.”

“well not my fault you’re both headaches,” he shrugs as he pulls into taki’s drive way, the loud music coming from the house already attacking your poor ears.

with taki’s parents out of town for the weekend, the boy had gathered the team over for a little get together. but boys being boys, of course they forget to prepare anything other than themselves.

so here you were, coming back from the supermarket with loads of snacks and drinks.

“i’ll see you inside miss class president,” he disappears before you could even respond, leaving you with all the grocery bags in his car boot.

although you had this problem to figure out, your mind was more distracted by something else instead. your boyfriend.

it was pretty normal for you and niki to bicker on the daily, usually over nothing and it’d end as quick as it began. but today’s bickering session unfortunately ended with him saying something hurtful and you saying something out of line.

a stupid fight yet you’re both giving each other the cold shoulder, just because you're both too stubborn to admit it.

“why are you pushing me watanabe?” your boyfriend’s sudden deep voice breaks you from your thoughts, the boy now standing at the front door with haruto behind him.

“you two are so annoying. make up or break up before you come back inside,” haruto says as he pushes niki out and shuts the door with a thud, trapping you both outside together.

you sigh and walk to haruto's boot, not paying too much attention to the team captain who is currently banging on the front door like the maniac that he was.

to your surprise, the tall boy appears beside you only a second later, hands reaching out for the grocery bags but you ignore it.

“let me take them in.”

“i don’t need your help.”

“they are heavy,” he reaches for them again, only for you to push him away slightly, “i’ll take them-”

“no i can do it myself!”

“you are so damn stubborn!” the boy yells as he slams the boot closed out of the blue, startling you. he doesn’t give you the time to respond and immediately lifts you up by the waist, placing you to sit on the boot. to prevent you from getting away, niki places both his hands on either sides of you, trapping you in completely.

although you’re supposed to be giving him the cold shoulder, you can’t help but swoon for a moment. swoon at how god damn breath taking he looked this close.

if you weren’t currently fighting, you probably would’ve kissed him already.

“nishimura move.”

“no, we need to talk. right now.”

“alright, what do you want to talk about?” you fold your arms, your expression much more sulky compared to his current angry one, “is it what haruto said... break up?”

“what- what the hell!” the boy seemed even angrier than before, his hands raised in the air like you had just said the most insane thing, “you fucking wish!”

his response catches you off guard, your mind unable to come up with anything to say other than gulp.

“baby,” he says in a much calmer tone, the boy now chuckling to himself, “funny of you to think you’ll ever successfully get away from me.”

“then? you’ve been ignoring me the whole day, even when i tried to talk to you earlier.”

“i’m sorry i was being stupid... i didn’t mean to yell at you either,” he reaches to softly cup your cheeks, making you look at him, “can you forgive your handsome, tall, smart, athletic boyfriend?”

the disgusted face you automatically make has the boy in complete stitches and you immediately follow suit, the two of you laughing loudly amongst yourselves like two crazy people.

it reminded you of why you fell for him in the first place and why you still liked him.

“i don’t know. depends on-”

he leans in, kissing you and shutting you up.

“as i was saying! depends on-”

and he kisses you again, shutting you up again.

“just say you want me to kiss you and i’ll do it. no need to play these dirty tricks with me, miss class president.”

“i was not-”

just as you expected, he kisses you again, only this time it melts your heart even more than the last. the view of niki smiling and so giddy into the kiss, always something your heart can barely survive through.

“you’re lucky i like kissing you miss class president.”

“well shut up and do it then nishimura-”

“oh god i think my lunch is coming up. oh no i’m gagging,” both you and niki turn to taki’s voice, just to see the entire team now standing on the front porch, all making gagging faces at the sight of their team captain and his girlfriend.

kissing.

“you’re all going to SUFFER at practice tomorrow!!!”

end.

2024 © jongseongsnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.

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sunboki · 19 days

Text

— FOR THE NIGHT. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

WORD COUNT. 1.1k words

AUG'S NOTES. this bangchan is from my “Korea’s Most Wanted” universe because i have yet to get over him from october…

“Bin, you said it was shipped friday.” The man, Christopher Bahng, grumbles, massaging the pinch between his brows.

His counterpart, Bin, whom he was now quarreling with on the phone groaned profusely, claiming how shipments were already slow—not to mention with the new investigations on his business underway.

The life of The Gunsman isn’t an easy one. It’s a constant game of tag against the police and the government while wielding a well-planned dictionary of excuses to avoid suspicion.

So now, as Bahng’s precious system becomes increasingly jeopardized, he finds himself losing more and more sleep to a worrisome degree.

And, having left the party filled with chairman, associates, and colleagues alike, Bahng slips into the safety of his car, once again troubled with the demands this illegal trade calls for.

“Well tell him I’ll have to serve his head on a platter if the ammunition doesn’t arrive by Friday. I’m running a charity event with how many funds I’ve given the idiot.”

Although halfway into Bin’s response, a quiet, though audible sound rustles in his backseat.

Instantly, he’s lurched a pistol from his thigh, aimed directly at the responsible interruption.

“Bahng. Bahng?” Bin echoes, only to be hung up on as Chris takes in the sight before him.

Lying in his backseat, curled up in a miniature ball, is a girl.

Your face is wrinkled in discomfort, hand resting right below your cheek, smushed against his car, a Lamborghini’s, interior.

How you got here without him noticing is beyond him, how long you’ve been here an even larger mystery.

His hand falters with the pistol, gawking with obvious surprise prior to stuffing the weapon back into its leather holster.

Instinctively, he would’ve called an assistant, asked them to take you home, find someone who knew you. Except, by the look of your current state, he has an inkling you wouldn’t be the greatest help navigating.

You’re gone.

Plus, the party’s already drawing to a close, people scattering out in every direction. The last thing he needs is to draw attention to himself.

Bahng may work illegally, lacking the fear of blood on his hands, but he’s not heartless.

Stifling a sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair, repeatedly clearing his throat in the case you woke up.

Leave it to him to end up with a random girl in his backseat.

Fine. Home it is.

Or, one of his many homes in the area.

Starting the engine, he spares repeated glances at you on the drive back, simply met with your same, woeful expression. Eyes screwed shut, lips pursed, cheeks stained a pink hue.

Pulling in, he stalls in the front seat, debating on all his morals up till now.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this..” Words a mere mutter, he carefully opens your door, gingerly dragging you out from your awkward position.

Knees pulled to your chest, Bahng keeps one, scarred hand on your back and another beneath your thighs while your head hangs, both hands bunched into fists, pressed to your chest.

Scared.

Whatever happened before, however you got here, you were scared—that much was known.

Somehow, the realization had him holding you closer.

Swiping the code to the door, he silently curses the loud beep, confusing himself with his concern for you.

Why did he care? You’d wake up, he’d get your home address and send you off. Why was he now so conscious about your comfort?

Heading up the winding stairs, he pulls his office chair from its place, deciding water as the best option.

“I’m going to put you down for a second, okay?”

Gently idling you into the chair, his movements halt when your arms reach up around his shoulders, a soft, barely divisible whine slipping past your lips, unwilling to let go.

He can barely recognize anything with how loud his heart rams against his rib cage.

Pull yourself together Bahng.

Ensuring you were still asleep, he slips into the kitchen, filling a glass with water before returning to you.

Your head jerks from when he holds the rim to your mouth, unwilling to cooperate.

“Just water sweetness,” He soothed, hating how worried he was, how senseless this behavior was.

Yet, he only continued to ease you into each sip, palm cupping your cheek for support, narrowly masking his astonishment when your eyes slowly opened, barely awake.

“Mm..?” Your vocal cords betray you, leering on the verge of dream and reality as you try acknowledging your surroundings.

No amount of recollection aids your perception in figuring out how you got here, only aware of the blaring ache in your head and a strangers voice in the distance.

One thing’s for certain. You feel awful.

Discerning the splash of water dumped down a sink, you’re once again hoisted into his arms, disappearing back into unconsciousness as Bahng nudges open his bedroom door, settling down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t mean to man-handle you, but we need to get these shoes off.”

Situating you upright, his arm slips down, propping each of your ankles where he can pull the heels from your feet.

Softly placing you down, he savors your feeble grip grasping at his clothing, gradually loosening in an attempt at holding his face.

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay here all night sweets, you’re gonna have to let go,” Bahng whispers, easing your wrists down to your sides.

Unfortunately? What’s gotten into him?

Although, just as he adjusts the comforter over you, turning to go, he hears a sniffle.

C’mon, ignore it, she’s fine.

Another sniffle.

Screw it.

“If you tell me where you live I can take you home?” He utters, lingering by your bedside like a child waiting to hear if they can go on a play date.

It’s painful admitting the effect your tears have on him, brows creasing so sadly in a way he can’t ignore.

“Are… Are you gonna hurt me?” You whimper, feeling absolutely exhausted the longer your mind races, frantically piecing together any clues of your whereabouts to no avail.

The pad of his thumb wiping free falling tears, he shakes his head, a miniature smile gracing usually serious, unmoving features.

“I can’t say I haven’t hurt someone before, but I’m not gonna hurt you, alright sweetness?”

Nodding fervently, his face contorts, admiring the adorable manner you blink up at him, lashes all clumped from crying.

Look, his ego isn’t too fragile to admit you’re cute.

“..How did I get here?”

Bahng chuckles.

“I don’t know the answer to that myself.”

Freeing your arm from his sheets, you furiously rub your eyes, frown tugging at the corner of your lips, hiccuping as your breathing shallows.

“I know things are scary when you’re this drunk. I promise everything will be a thousand times better in the morning.”

And with that, he pulls the comforter over you, bidding a quiet good night and nearing the door for a second time.

This time, you intervene, latching onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you.”

What did he just get himself into.

He sucks his teeth, surveying the sleepy eyes you’re torturing him with.

“Don’t mention it.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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undercoverpena · 7 months

Text

iv. anchor me

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

chapter warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. hand stuff (f receiving), illusions to the past, bi!frankie.

an: thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this after bake off and telling me that i can do the thing.

wordcount: 3.4k

The moment Benny’s (insistent) invite landed in your messages, you had expected the one from Frankie.

Phone in hand, tapping your foot, counting, barely making it to 30 seconds before the banner slid down your screen. Because, of course, the can’t-say-no invitation was on the day the two of you had a scheduled thing.

Unsurprisingly, his simmering annoyance hadn’t vanished when he came to pick you up—another thing insisted—and you came out to meet him.

I’ll pick you up. I can drive there and meet you, save you coming across town. I‘m picking you up. Means I get to make sure you get home okay.

The sound of the car door slamming into place as you lock up, turning to walk towards his vehicle to find him eyeing you up in a way that makes your cheeks burn and you want to hide your face.

He keeps having that effect on you.

Make heat lick up your spine, your brain forget its sentence or thought, and your eyes find themselves unable to stop dropping to his lips .

It’s why it takes all your strength to say, “Eyes up here, Morales.”

He does, although he does take a second. Licking his lips, before doing exactly that. “Do I tell you enough that you look good?”

Laughing, you roll your eyes. More for him. An act, a pretence. Because you’re trying to seem unfazed—attempting to ignore it, the flutters of wings in your stomach.

Having to focus on it more and more when he stops in front of you, the bill of his hat shielding his eyes from the sun, allowing you to see how they drink you in, swallow you. Practically smothering you in simmering heat that makes you want to tear your clothes from your skin.

“You’ve mentioned it a lot lately.”

He doesn’t move, a thing which makes the wings flutter worse. More intense. Practically beating them as you stare at him, fighting the urge to wrap your fingers around the back of his neck and pull his lips to yours.

To have him. Kiss him.

Remembering as you shift in your shoes, that you’re not with him. This is all an arrangement, a plan—a schedule, a date each week (or two) that Benjamin Miller fucked up.

Nudging him, you wink. “C’mon, I want first dibs of the food Will is cooking before you lot leave me with the scraps.”

You were outside in the backyard an hour, before a water gun soaks you.

Benny’s—of course—a stupid gift you’d purchased him, now used on the neighbours’ kids, with you caught in the crossfire.

By the time you’ve realised, you’re being flooded with apologies. Each coming from Benny’s tongue tenfold, rushing over as though he’d sprayed you in bullets and not water.

Your discussion with Will all but ended with a gasp as you stared down at your now transparent shirt. Watching his eyes lift up, trying not to glance or look.

“Shit, I’m so sorry. I was—and then—let me show you where the towels are—“

You’re not sure who you laugh at more: Will or Benny. Holding a hand up, accepting one of the many apologies that fall, waving it all off, as your eyes scan the other guests, not finding the one pair of eyes you really want.

“It’s fine—can I, borrow something?” you ask, dropping your voice, “There’s kids around.”

Before Benny has even finished nodding, you make a beeline for the house. The one you know. You’ve been here enough times, dipping in through the side door, feeling your top cling to your skin more uncomfortably than it had outside.

That’s when you stare outside. Noticing that the gathering was closer to a party, it all loud and busy—even from inside. Suddenly grateful for the cover to spend a minute cooling off in the house. An excuse merged with gratefulness when you could hide and slide your shades off—wanting a drink, water, ice.

Suddenly needing a second.

Because all you’d done is eye-fuck your friend. The one you’ve seen naked—the one who looks more than good, and fucks even better.

The one, you suddenly can’t spot.

The glass in your palm lets condensation droplets slide down your wrist. The rim against your bottom lip, staring out at the people laughing, smaller kids being chased by Benny and his water gun. Eyes scanning, nervousness bubbling, mind beginning to worry you’re about to see him with someone else.

Like you have done so many times before .

You’re so lost in it, you don’t hear him, never mind feel him, until his arm snakes around your waist. The man you’d been missing—the one who’d been burning holes into your spine, but never coming over.

Now, though, he’s all warm mouth again to your ear, a whispered shh, as he peels your glass from your hands.

“You’re all wet, querida. We best get you dry.”

And then you’re walking, being led. Moving with ease as Frankie—who you hadn’t even seen come inside—was wrapping his fingers inside yours. Leading you, down the familiar hallway you’d helped paint several years ago, to the bedroom you still called Frankie’s, even if he hadn’t lived here in years.

You remember when you‘d knock on the very door to call for him, or hang out on the other side of the frame.

Frankie and Benny had shared this space before Frankie had found his own. The offer of your spare room had not been good enough—even if he painted it in, not wanting to be an inconvenience. How you’d sit on the bed that’s now for guests, perched, waiting for him before the two of you grabbed food or visited the movies. Simple things—friend things.

It isn’t like that today. His mouth slants over yours as soon as you’re both alone, pressing your back to the wall, devouring, licking into your mouth as you gasp.

Because the two of you could be caught. A shudder spreading out at the idea. The thought of the door being thrown open, making you groan into his mouth.

But, you’re not sure you’d care if you did.

You don’t fucking care if they all found you like this.

Lost, whimpering, desperate—all for him.

Not at his hand places itself around the base of your neck—lightly touching, pressing the smallest amount of pressure down, as he hushes your soft moans. His finger resting against your chin, the others slowly bury themselves in your underwear, giving you more reasons to be loud than be quiet—not something close to friend things.

“You been thinkin’ about me?”

The yes leaves your lips, but it is swallowed by a moan. It travelling from somewhere deep, flowing up, rippling out as you begin to writhe against his touch. Your eyes fixed on his—drowning in brown, sinking in as he curls his fingers inside of you. Beckoning, pleading with you to hand him what it is he wants.

Fuck, you want to give it to him. Had done from the moment you’d arrived, pulled up in the space outside Benny’s home—the former fixer-upper, turned dream house.

Frankie always looked good, even if his wardrobe was minimal. The back of him easy to pick out from a crowd, so broad you’re sure you could draw it with your eyes closed. You’ve stared at it so much—and that was before this all began. This, whatever this mutually beneficial thing is between the two of you, neither of you will properly name.

It’s why you kiss him, needing to taste his groan, lather your tongue in the way he says your name. Pronounces it. It more noticeable when your hand cups him—greeted by the hard outline of him against your palm, all noticeable, barely contained by his cargo pants.

“—tan bonita,” he croaks, throwing your hand away before placing it back to cup your cheek, forcing your head to his, the base of his palm catching your bundle of nerves as he slows his ministrations. “Be good for me, querida. And just focus on being quiet.”

A chaste kiss pressed, a signature on the dotted line—one you agree to as you chase his lips. Just tasting the beer-tinged air of his breath as he continues to bury his fingers inside of you. The sounds of it so vulgar, loud, barely muffled by the strangled whimpers you try to keep back.

“So good for me, tan perfecta.”

Your eyes close, lashes clenching. His whispered words make it harder to stay quiet, to be the thing he’s just told that you are.

And the worst is, you know he knows it. Can feel his smirk against your jaw, the way the tip of his tongue swirls over your pulse as his hip pins you in place, his fingers continuing their wanted assault, keeping your feet rooted to the ground, head barely able to think about anything but this.

“Please,” you ask.

Eyes open, capturing his. Hooking in. Watching him drink it in, your request—your ask.

“Alright baby, I’ve got you,” he whispers, more breath than words, right against your cheek, finger drawing circles against your clit. “Always got you, haven’t I?”

It’s electric, and also fire. It surges and licks up your spine as you nod. As your throat goes dry, sound goes fuzzy, before he’s good—to you, for you. Alternating between filling you with the same fingers that built your furniture.

“Doing so well for me,” he says, nose against your cheek, fingers pumping—

In and out.

“Be good though, let me feel you squeeze my fingers—wanna feel you come, querida. Please. Please.”

Your eyes clench, feeling both nothing and everything. Because someone could walk in. Your teeth bite into your lip as you try to keep back the chants of his name. His fingers are so deep, feeling so good.

“Let go, querida.”

It falls from his lips like honey. Sweet. Almost sticky in how it clings to the air as your eyes open, finding him.

The first thing you think is: earlier was nothing on the way he’s staring at you now.

Doing more than devouring, he’s drowning in you—likely unaware you’re doing the same with him.

Each nerve illuminated, your ears slowly buzzing louder and louder as you crash your mouth to his and lick into his mouth as you still, tense and writhe all at once.

Then you are stars, feel yourself unknotting, all at once. In the bedroom that used to be his.

Frankie shouldn’t like seeing you in an old t-shirt of his, but he does.

Unable to tear his eyes away from you as he leads you to two seats, your laugh flowing—something he said under his breath, now forgotten, still swirling through you, forcing your eyes to close and your fingers to dig into his forearm.

He likes you like this—has always liked your laugh.

Blissfully aware that he should, but shit, he can’t take his eyes off you. Even if he knows he needs to—plenty of eyes around, ones who have always teased, always taunted.

You’d be so good together. You pair are so cute.

The comments go on, and on. Have done for years.

Except now, you’re dressed in him.

To most, it’s a simple, old tee splattered with paint. To him, it’s when the group of them painted Ben’s house. His eyes having drank you in, wishing he could wash the paint from your legs, unsure how you’re covered in as much as the wall.

Your clumsiness having painted itself against you, your own clothes ruined, before you’d purposefully (and intentionally) splattered yourself against him when you’d come in for a ‘hug’.

Now, you’re sitting next to him, curled under one leg, shades hiding where your eyes are—but he hopes they’re on him—wishing you’d be on him.

“You dry, querida?”

“Oh, jodete.”

Smirking, he takes a sip of his drink. Licking the front of his teeth, leaning forward.

“Rather fu—”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

Your tongue traces the bottom of your lip, slowly shaking your head. A part of him wanting to pull you close, have you in his lap. Fuck everything and just give in and—

“So,” Will announces. Suddenly there. Blocking the sun, pointing at an empty chair before he sits beside you.

And Frankie drowns his throat in beer.

He listens, while staring off, as Will asks how your friend is—when she’s back in town, because Ben won’t. You knotting and unknotting the end of the tee around your finger, chatting and chatting.

Something tightening inside of him when he catches sight of you, from the corner of his eye, throwing your head back as Will makes you laugh. Him trying not to grimace each time his friend does so.

Because Will is his friend.

A good one, a great one. Yet, when it comes to you, he always feels inferior. Less than. Somehow more broken more than—

“Fish?”

Will’s voice drags him from his thoughts, blinking. Thumb tracing the neck of his bottle as he nods.

“I said have you heard from Pope?”

He tenses. Frankie feels himself still. Back all straight.

The question cuts through his bubbling thoughts. Suddenly aware of the sound of his own heart in his ears. That knotted ball of things, the one full of rope, strings, steel wire, as it all tightens inside his chest—and in his stomach.

Worst of all, he then feels your eyes land on him. Searching, cutting through the sheets he throws up as walls, desperate to press something warm to him, keep him rooted.

He takes a breath, feeling you willing him to. Appeasing you, even if you’ve not asked verbally, finding himself easily able to.

It’s always easy with you.

Just like it was the night he told you. Confessed it. Whispered it out on the floor, his back to the wall in the same bedroom he just had pressed you against.

I’d suspected it, honestly.

Your fingers brushing, carding through his curls until you pulled his head into your chest. A whole other sea of emotions bubbling, both of his long loves out of reach—even if one had their fingers buried in his curls, attempting to soothe him. The rest of his confession dying on his tongue, letting it rot, fester.

Because that one was and still is harder to confess.

It desperate to escape. Almost coming out the night you’d suggested he found you repulsive. Not knowing how wrong you were—

“Um…” you murmur, eyes digging further into him, practically clawing. Not to hurt, but to pull him back. “I don’t think I have—not since before?”

Frankie swallows. His heart hammering heavier, lifting his eyes and landing on you—and it all goes calm. Your face, like it always has been, is like a blanket that smothers the leftover hurt and anguish, an anchor that roots him in place.

“N-no. Not heard a thing,” he says, as plain as possible. Direct. Trying to hide the shake.

Because he can still feel your eyes on him. Focused, unwilling to leave his face as Will mutters and mumbles about something until he’s shouted away, beckoned by an overzealous neighbour, Frankie plants a smile on for, not moving to greet or speak to.

You say nothing.

But you do lift your shades. Smothering him in warmth and kindness, and a bit of sorrow too. Your teeth nursing the skin on your bottom lip, picking and picking.

Fuck he wishes he could tell you.

He wishes he could tell you that Pope knew—knows. Had already guessed it. Teased him on it before he dragged it out of him in the cold, rainy depths of Colombia.

You just have a thing for friends, Fish. That it!

It had ripped from his throat then. Shooting, spitting in mixed English and Spanish as he told Pope his feelings for you—how long they’d been there.

How they were messy. The same as his feelings had been for him. That they churned and turned for months with the conflicting ones he had for him.

That it has shaped him—the thing that neither of them talk about, but had let happen the handful of times it did.

And now he was repeating himself, but differently. This time, he suspected there was something more there. Something there in your eyes in the moments after he’s brought you to pleasure, it twinkling, it licking into his mouth when you kiss him, softer, desperate in a different way.

“Are you okay?”

“Come to mine. Tonight. After.”

You release your bottom lip. Staring. Thinking. “Are you going to take me home after?”

He tries not to let his face shift, but he fails. It falls and drops out over his features as you take a sip from the bottle in your hand.

“Frank…”

“You like my bed.”

You roll your eyes, brow slightly arched. You’re faking annoyance, he can tell. He can tell because you’re ticking, pondering. Weighing up the options of what difference one night would make to your principles.

“It’s not because of that.”

“No?” you say, arched brow and laced in sarcasm.

Fuck, he wants to take your hands. Pull them to his face. Because he doesn’t feel like that for him anymore. He hasn’t. Not for a long time.

Not since before he showed up with his plan, and his lies, and his mission that ended with Redfly’s death.

He wanted to let it roll from his tongue that he meant it that first night. That he has hated all of your exes for the reason you must think, deep down—the one you’re unwilling to question or acknowledge for the same reasons he won’t.

Because he’s scared. Because he knows he’s only worthy of being a dirty secret—not something real. Not something stable and concrete, things you truly deserve.

And, he wants to respect your wishes, your rules. But, he also wants to wake up beside you in his bed. Wanting nothing more than to have his cake and eat it too, because how could he not? How could he not want you there for one morning, when he wants you there every single day?

That thought was the one he had shouted, it burning the air between him and the man he now doesn’t hear from.

You gonna tell her? Depends on if we fuckin’ get outta here, doesn’t it?

He didn’t. Even if he did make it out, make it back. You in his arms, sobbing, worries running from your mouth to his ear as he held you—silently sobbing into your shoulder for reasons he has never explained.

Which is precisely why he doesn’t reach for your hands. It’s why he lets the silence thicken before he answers.

Because he knows he loves you.

“No,” he says firmly.

Hoping it’ll be enough. Hoping the finality of the word will inform you that, if anything, it’s in spite of the memory of his former friend, former brother-in-arms, former…

“I live closer to here,” he shrugs. Not wanting to admit that it’s for any other reason. “Means we’d be quicker to—“

“Morales!” you cut him off.

All stern, cute—as though he hadn’t had his fingers buried inside of you half an hour ago in his old room.

“How have you been sleeping?”

It’s a simple question, easy. Your lips around the straw, draining your cup before placing it on the grass, next to his empty bottle.

His fingers reaching up, itching the front of his fringe under his hat—your eyes following his movements, holding on to them, adding them to the mental notebook you’ve likely made.

Frankie shouldn’t be surprised that you remembered. The trip that lasted more days than it should have and left its own marks on you, too. Scarred you in ways that you can’t explain or ever get rid of.

“Fine. I guess, just…”

“I know,” you say with a faint smile. Forced. Placed there to soothe him, but it doesn’t do much.

You don’t play with the radio.

You don’t even really talk. Just drumming your fingers on the door, staring outside, letting streets pass the two of you, until he pulls up outside his place.

All the way, he thinks about apologising.

For everything, and yet for nothing all at once. His eyes sliding over to you as he drove down roads, turned his chin a little more to gather more of you as he turned a corner.

You don’t look at him until he turns the engine off. Head rolling on the back of the seat, the softest, most beautiful smile on your lips—one he wants to taste, feel moulded to his mouth. Capture and steal it, in case he never gets the chance to again.

“If you say you’ll stay, you haven’t broken the rules,” he whispers.

It is all quiet, except for the little noises made by the car as it cools and relaxes from its journey here.

Frankie hears you swallow, and then sigh.

“Won’t I be?”

Shaking his head, he turns to face you on the plastic seat. Palm cupping your cheek, thumb stroking soft lines, hoping it’ll ease you. Relax you.

“If you prefer me to take you home—“

Your eyes drop.

“—then I will. But…”

Your eyes flash back up to him, and for a moment, he forgets how to breathe. Even under twinkling lights, he can see each fleck of colour in them.

“But?” you whisper.

And he drags his thumb across your skin. “I just really want you to stay, for tonight.”

Sliding your lips to the side, your fingers move over his, pressing his palm to your cheek, giving him a smile—a gentle one, reassuring, sweet. “I want the right side. When you let me sleep.”

Smirking, he nudges closer, going to kiss you, but finding himself pressing a kiss to your forehead—one brimming with a smile.

Only realising he’s done so when he retracts.

Little lines appearing in your brow, gone, vanished in the next second, because then you’re moving closer, your lips on his—and for a brief, but pleasant moment, he forgets all of this isn’t real.

Falls into it, lets himself live there as he runs his hand up your thigh, before he’s dragging it over his. Uncaring that there’s a bed some so many feet away, he just runs his hands over your cheeks, along your jaw, thumbs on your neck—as he groans against your mouth.

Swallowing your moan, he fights a smirk at the way you rock your hips against him. Hand moving to your hip, pinning you—chasing your lips before kissing you again, and again.

Not ever having enough. Always wanting more.

As he has done for years. As he’s thought about for years.

Because there may have been others, but since he let himself think it, it’s always been you. A notion he kisses against your lips, writing them with his tongue against yours, content, happy.

“Can’t wait to spread you out on my bed, querida.”

He feels your lips spread into a smirk against his. “Can’t wait to have your cock down my throat again, Morales.”

He groans. Loud, almost undignified. Unsure how he got to be so lucky. Your fingers digging into the base of his neck.

CHAPTER FIVE ->

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

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htttg · 8 months

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I fell for you - Alessia Russo x reader

Summary: You and Alessia Russo are both strikers on the England team, but you've never got along. The friction between you two explodes after a drunken night and leads to a whole bunch of unresolved feelings being brought up.

Angst -> Resolution

6k words (longer than I expected)

It was getting later as I pulled into the McDonald's drive thru line after having a quiet evening to myself for the first time in forever. It was weirdly busy for a late evening, and I had been waiting to order for about five minutes when I got a call from Tooney, one of my best mates.

"Tooney? What's up?"

"Are you doing anything right now?"

"No nothing really. Why?"

"Can you do me a favour?"

"Sure,"

"Can you go get Less for me?"

"You want me to... go get Russo for you?" I asked, a little baffled at the request for multiple reasons.

Firstly, I didn't know what the situation was where I'd have to go and pick up Toone's friend for her. Secondly, when Tooney wanted a favour is was normally picking up something from the shops for her. Thirdly, although Alessia Russo was a really great friend of Ella's, the football player had made it very clear in the past that she didn't want anything to do with me.

"Yes please, it's important,"

"Okay firstly why? Secondly why can't you? And third where from?"

"Oh my god, so you'll do it,"

"Yes, yes if you need me to, but answer my questions at least,"

I pulled out of the drive thru, annoyingly I was next in line, but I reluctantly drove off.

"She's in the pub we went to for Mary's birthday, and well I got a call from Leah, saying they'd gone out with a few friends and apparently she's got really drunk really quick. Leah asked if I could pick her up because they're all drunk but I'm with my family and I've been drinking as well so I can't go. You're the only person I know who's close enough,"

"Alright, yeah I'm on my way. I'll be there in 10,"

"You are genuinely fantastic, I owe you alright?"

"Yes, you really do owe me big time,"

"Text me with any updates, mkay?"

"Sure, yeah, talk to you later,"

"Bye! Thank you!"

I sighed after I hung up, and continued the drive to the pub. I parked in the car park around the back of the pub, and went in, becoming oddly conscious of my sweats and tshirt, not something I'd usually wear to a pub.

I went in, and caught Leah's eye, and she came over to me quickly.

"Tooney sent you?" she asked, just as confused as I'd been when I got the call.

"Yeah. She's drinking and I was nearby,"

She nodded, but her furrowed brow told me she still didn't really get it.

"Well you really are saving us right now. We were gonna head to a club after this, but I don't even know how she got so drunk. She's been really up and down all day though,"

"Alright, well I'll just take her home and you can get on with your night out,"

"Genuinely thank you so much," Leah said, and led me over to a booth where a couple of the girls were sat, Alessia in the middle, evidently extremely drunk, talking to Keira very loudly about something that happened in training.

She made herself laugh, and giggled obnoxiously. Keira chuckled at her antics, but looked very relieved to see me come up to the table.

"C'mon Russo, let's go," I muttered. The girl turned to look at me sharply, her smile dropping.

"What are you doing here?"

"Taking your stupid arse home because you got wasted at pre's,"

"I'm not drunk!"

"I really don't care, but I'm taking you home, alright, because Tooney asked me to,"

"I'm not going anywhere with you,"

With a lot of persuading from the girls and the promise of another night out soon, the forward finally climbed out the booth and stood up to come with me.

She wobbled on her feet and fell into me a little. I tried to help steady her, but she just pushed me away.

"Just take me home or whatever,"

"Whatever you say," I mumbled.

I said goodbye to the girls, who gave me some very thankful looks and with Russo stumbling behind me, left them to it.

I made sure to go to the bar first and buy a couple bottles of water, which because it was a pub, cost me 12 quid. A stupid price really, but at least it was quick.

I helped Russo into the passenger seat of my car, which she ended up mostly falling into, and passed her a bottle of water, telling her to drink. I grabbed a carrier bag from my boot, just in case and handed it to her as I got into the drivers seat.

"Why are here? Huh? No one told me you'd be here. You weren't invited,"

"I was, actually, but decided to have a day to myself. That's gone to shit now because you can't handle your fucking drink,"

I started the car, with Russo mumbling incoherent insults beside me.

"Right, you're gonna have to help me out a little bit here and tell me where you live,"

"No,"

"Well, it's either that or you're coming back to mine instead, which would you rather,"

"I'm not telling you where I live," she said stubbornly with a pout.

"Are you-" I started to argue but stopped myself. It wasn't the time to start this whole thing, not with her barely seeing straight, "never mind, to my house it is,"

I turned out of the car park, conscious of Alessia fiddling with my car, searching the glovebox and cupholders and every other little pockets for something.

"I don't- I don't like this car," she complained right when I'd pulled onto a busy road. She started fiddling with her seat belt.

"Russo! What are you- don't!"

She'd undone her seatbelt and I had to last minute pull aside, causing the car behind me to beep at me. I grab Alessia's arm to stop her from trying to get out the car completely.

"Get off me!"

"Alessia fucking Russo sit the fuck down. I don't care if you don't like me and I don't care if you don't like my car but you didn't leave a whole lot of options when you got super wasted at a random bar on a Saturday night, alright? You thinking I want to be spending my night driving someone who hates my guts back home? I didn't get a whole lot of options either darling so just shut up and sit down and don't you dare move,"

I surprised myself with my outburst, and evidently shocked her too as she stopped trying to get out the car and sat there, stroppy expression on her face and arms folded.

"Ok, good," I mumbled, "seatbelt back on. Russo? Alessia, seatbelt!"

She didn't move, so I grumbled and leant over her to pull her belt across her. I was expecting her to complain or shove me away, but she stayed deadly still and just let me.

I pulled back onto the road and continued the drive to my house. It was silent in the car for all of five minutes before she started complaining again.

"Why did Tooney send you? Huh? Trying to punish me for having a little drink?"

That continued until I pulled into my driveway.

"Where are we?" she asked, confused.

"My house. You wouldn't let me take you to your house remember?"

I got out and went to her side of the car, opening her door and helping her out. She was even less stable on her feet now, and she let me walk her to the front door and into the house.

I sat her down on the stairs, took off her shoes as she drank some more water, took her coat off and hung it on the bannisters and then took her upstairs. She knocked down some pictures on the wall as she went, I gritted my teeth.

"I need to piss," she mumbled.

"What do you want me to do about that?"

"I-" she sighed, "nothing,"

I took her to the bathroom, and then let her get herself on the toilet. She was unaware of her movements and ended up hitting stuff off the sink and stuff.

"Wow, such a big girl going to the toilet all by yourself," I teased, ribbing her as I watched her struggle as I left the bathroom.

As she did that, I went to my bedroom and started tidying it up and gathering some spare blankets and pillows. Downstairs, I set up a bed on the sofa and then went back upstairs when I heard retching from the bathroom.

"Oh, in my bath, great!" I mumbled but went up to her and tied her hair back. I shifted her to the toilet instead and sat with her on my bathroom floor until she stopped throwing up. She pushed herself away from the toilet, which I flushed, and she curled into a ball on the floor.

"This is so soft," she hummed, stroking my bathmat.

"You wanna know what's even softer? The bed, okay? Come here,"

I helped her stand and took her to my bedroom, sitting her down on the bed. She quickly started pulling off her clothes, which took me by surprise a bit, but I grabbed a spare t-shirt and shorts and threw them towards her.

As she struggled to pull them on, I refused to help with this part and just kept tidying my room so that if she decided to spew vomit everywhere, my stuff was safe.

"Right, I'm gonna put a bowl here, alright, now please don't throw up in my bed,"

"Your bed?" she asked a little puzzled.

"Yes,"

She was quiet as I continued to prep my room for her to sleep - closing the windows and curtains etc.

"Y'know, I don't really hate you that much,"

"Oh wow, best compliment ever!"

"Well- I mean at all,"

"If this conversation is going to happen, let's wait ‘till morning. Here drink some more water,"

I sat next to her to prompt her to drink water, which she did.

"You're being nice,"

"Funny enough I don't think now really is the right time to be pissed at you. You're drunk, almost everyone deserves a little bit of help when they can't even walk straight,"

"Why are you pissed at me?" she asked, which made me roll my eyes.

"You're joking, right? I'm clearly not your favourite person ever but you could've at least tried to be a little nice to me."

"No, I couldn't,"

"And why now, ay?"

"Just because,"

"Right. Just because, now it all makes sense,"

"Because otherwise I would like you too much,"

I froze at hearing that come out her mouth. I didn't know what she was trying to say, just it couldn't have been anything like what came out, no way.

"Sleep. We can talk in the morning. I'll look forward to your post-drunk clarity,"

I got up to leave, hearing her say one more thing as she crawled under the covers.

"You're funny,"

I left the room and did some general chores. I made sure to put her phone on charge and tidied up the house after Russo had knocked some things over.

I headed to my make-shift bed on the sofa, and crawled under the blankets and tried to sleep, but it was obvious that it wasn't going to work. That thing that Russo had said, obviously she mixed up her words - right? She was too drunk to know what she was saying - right?

-- The next morning --

I was woken up by a million texts coming through on my phones. Tooney.

"Hey Tooney,"

"Hey, did it all go alright last night?"

"Oh fuck," I mumbled, suddenly remembering the events of yesterday and that Alessia Russo was asleep in my bed.

"What?!"

"Oh, no it went fine, you just woke me up is all,"

I stood up and wandered to my kitchen and made myself a coffee.

"God, I'm never sleeping on my sofa again - that thing is uncomfortable!"

"Why are you sleeping on your sofa?"

"Because there's a hungover sleeping footballer in my bed. She refused to let me take her to her own place yesterday, so now we're here. You owe me 12 quid from water by the way,"

"12 quid?"

"Yeah, absolute rip off for water and just because it comes in a glass bottle, I guess it suddenly becomes liquid gold," I groaned with a yawn.

"So it really went okay last night?"

"I don't know, I mean I haven't checked on her at all but yeah, we're all alive,"

"Good,"

"She said something really weird to me yesterday,"

"What'd she say?"

"Hmm, to be fair she was absolutely shitheaded and obviously didn't know what she was saying, but she said something about having to hate me because otherwise she'd like me too much. Whatever that means,"

"Yeah, that's weird, but if she was that bad, I guess it can't mean too much. Look just- I have to go but thank you so much for last night, I wouldn't have known what to do without you,"

"Yeah, I would say no problem but eh, that wouldn't be so true, but yeah. You owe me, and you better make it up to me, blah blah blah, I'll talk to you later,"

"Course, yeah, bye,"

"Bye,"

I drank my coffee and had a banana for breakfast and then heard the sound of footsteps upstairs. I made some toast and got a glass of water and shortly after, Russo came downstairs, rubbing her temples and squinting in the bright light.

"You look like shit," I mumbled as she sat down on a stool.

She gave no reply, and I just nudged the food and drink towards her.

"God, I can't," she groaned.

"Suit yourself," I responded and just grabbed a drink from the fridge for myself, "you got a ride home?"

"Really?"

"What?" I asked bluntly.

She just rolled her eyes and I saw her jaw clench.

I ignored it, and went to the living room, where I tidied up the makeshift bed on the sofa and dumped the blankets and pillows in the corner of the room. I sat down and put on a film.

A couple minutes later, Russo walked in. She was actually eating the toast I'd given her and had the water in the other hand.

"Tooney's picking me up in 10,"

I gave no reply and kept my gaze fixed on the tv. I didn't know whether or not I should ask her about what she said yesterday or not. She probably doesn't even remember, but the sentence was circling my brain.

"You could at least acknowledge what I just said," she huffed as she sat down on the opposite side of the sofa.

"And you could acknowledge the fact that I gave up my evening to pick you up yesterday,"

"And to think you were actually somewhat nice to me yesterday,"

"I made you toast. Speaking of don't get crumbs on my sofa,"

"Did you sleep here yesterday?"

"Wasn't about to climb into bed next to you for a cuddle,"

"You're so-" she stopped herself from what she was about to say.

"I'm so what? Say it,"

"This film is boring,"

"So leave,"

"Tooney's on the way, what do you want me to do? Walk the two hours walk back to my house?"

"I'd prefer it, yeah,"

"You're so frustrating, my god!" She stormed back to the kitchen, but for some reason I couldn't let it go and followed her.

"I think you forget sometimes that I was actually nice to you when we met. Like I actually wanted to be friends and you just started icing me out,"

She was silent, and just took another bite of toast.

"I picked you up last night. I let you sleep in my bed. I-"

"Alright I get it. I'm too hungover for this right now,"

"Oh wow, the consequences of your own actions, surprise surprise," I calmed down a little, "look, I picked you up yesterday as a favour for Ella, so you don't wanna say a word of thanks then fine. You do owe the girls an apology though, stressing them out and shit,"

We fell into silence once again.

The doorbell went, and I went to get it, being greeted by Tooney outside. We would've talked for a bit, but I had no energy. She sensed the tense atmosphere, deciding not to make any jokes or anything.

"She's in here," I said, leading Tooney to the kitchen.

Russo was sat up on the counter, which weirdly bugged me, finishing off her toast.

"Ready to go Less?" Ella asked.

"Yeah,"

"God, you look rough," she commented, which normally would've earned a chuckle from Russo, but she just didn't react.

She finished the last bite of toast and hopped off the counter. She left the plate on the side, which I then moved next to the sink. To be honest it was a purposeful decision, just to make her see how I had been picking up her shit all night.

"Let's go then," Tooney spoke.

"Mm, please," Russo replied, making me roll my eyes.

"Keep the clothes, I don't want them back," I muttered, which went ignored by Russo.

They left, and I was finally alone. I ventured upstairs to my room, which now smelt like a mixture of perfume and vodka. I grimaced, and just changed the sheets on the bed.

I spent most of that day deep cleaning my house, which I knew wasn't necessary, but I didn't want a single reminder of any of it.

At training the next day, I showed up early to get the kit out, help set up, and get a head start on the warmup. Tooney was there too, and we talked and joked a little as we went. The girls started showing up gradually, and Russo walked onto the pitch.

Part of me had hoped she wouldn't turn up, which was stupid, I know, especially considering that playing for England was a big deal, not something you skip just because you want to. Well, here she was, right on time and walking up to me.

I had been playing two-touch with a few of the girls and stepped away when I saw Russo call me over.

I gave Tooney a bit of a look, a mix of confused and annoyed.

"Your clothes. Washes and dried," Russo said, handing me a bag.

"I said I didn't want them back,"

"I know you did, but still. Also, I think we should talk,"

"About what exactly?"

"Hating each other doesn't make us play better, okay? So either we talk or Sarina's gonna notice us avoiding each other and make us talk. I don't know about you but I'd rather do it on my own terms,"

Before I could respond, Sarina called us over and she started setting up a quick game.

She allocated teams, and I stuck on a bib. Russo was on my team, annoying but fine.

The game was standard enough, there was a lot of back and forth but both sides got a couple goals in.

About half an hour later, and the ball ended up at my feet. I reacted quickly, dribbling it over to the goal, speeding past the defenders on the other side.

I was getting closer to the goal and could see two defenders coming towards me from different sides.

"I'm here," I heard Russo call from a little distance away. She had a better position, and also didn't have two defenders and a keeper focused on her, but I kept the ball.

I got into the penalty area and kicked the ball just as I got tackled to the ground. I landed on my hip, sending pain through my body but I didn't care, and followed the ball with my eyes.

It breezed past Mary's fingertips and went right into the back of the net. I breathed a sigh of relief and bounced to my feet. I held out a hand for Greenwood, who had tackled me and helped her to her feet.

"Sorry, that was a bit heavy," she apologised, but I tapped her shoulder and shrugged, dismissing it. She ran off.

A hand landed on my shoulder, a bit roughly and it caught me off guard, so I tripped forward a little. It was Russo.

"I was right there, why didn't you pass?"

"I got the goal, no one cares," I shrugged, avoiding making any eye contact. I jogged away.

The interaction didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the team, or Sarina. A couple glances were exchanged, making me grit my teeth but the game continued.

After the game, Sarina told us to get on with some drills, and started pulling each of us aside to talk and give some feedback.

"Y/N," I heard my name eventually be called up and I jogged over to the England coach, "right, you looked good today, good job. Stamina, great. Ball control, great. Just improve that drive a little more, maybe you were a little distracted or something but keep it up. Some lovely goals,"

"Thanks coach," I replied.

"Ok, who's next," she muttered to herself, "Russo!" she called to the forward who promptly left her exercise.

I turned to leave, retreating back to my drill.

"Hold on, Y/N I didn't say go,"

I froze and turned back to Sarina, my nerves and heart rate increasing and my jaw clenching.

Russo reached us, and I sensed her glance at me.

"You know what I will say, and I don't really wish to comment, but I want it sorted by practice tomorrow,"

"Yes coach," Russo responded and Sarina turned to me for a reply

"Yeah, course,"

She dismissed me, and I went back to my drill.

After practice, I headed to the showers along with a few others. I'd normally just wait till I got home to have a shower, but I was a little more muddy than usual and my muscles ached a little, so I hopped in now.

I turned the hot water up, enjoying the heat.

I got out and went over to the big mirror, where some of the team were chatting and brushing their hair. I joined them, brushing through the tangles in my hair whilst we talked.

Eventually I packed up my stuff and headed to my car. I stopped short seeing Russo standing by my car. I wanted to go back inside and hide out until she left, but that was stupid, so I just went over.

"I think you've got the wrong car," I told her, making her look up from her phone. I didn't mean it solely as an insult, but it came out that way.

"Can we just go for a drive or something?"

"Fine,"

The first few minutes of the drive were silent, an awkward air hovering. I broke the silence with the question that had been playing in my mind for days.

"I couldn't be nice to you because otherwise I would like you too much,"

"What?" she asked, completely puzzled.

"That's what you said to me, in your hammered state you said that. I wanna know what you meant by it,"

"I- What? That- doesn't matter," she stammered.

"Except it does,"

It was quiet for a moment.

"You should’ve made that pass to me today,"

"Well, I didn't, I don't know what you want me to do about it now,"

"Can we- can we just not speak like this? It's tiring and pointless,"

I sighed, silently agreeing.

"I- I honestly don't know how to talk to you any other way," I mumbled.

"God, I wish we could just start over. I shouldn't have ever treated you the way I did, and honestly, I don't know why I still kind of do,"

"That's nice to hear," I said truthfully, "wanna go get a coffee?"

"Sure, that'd be nice,"

We drove in silence to the Starbucks drive thru.

"What d'you want?" I asked.

"Iced vanilla latte, thanks,"

I ordered her latte and got myself a caramel macchiato and we hit the road again.

"Tomorrow, at training, I'll make that pass to you. I know I should've done it today,"

"It was a nice shot though,"

"It was. I don't- it's- I'm normally better when it comes to those things. Like, leave the baggage at the door type of thing. When I play normally people just- just become shirts really, maybe that's weird. But I get asked sometimes how I feel about playing against a friend of mine, and to be honest I just don't care much. It doesn't normally change anything about the way I play,"

"I get that, it's not even that you're picking your team over your friend, it's just instinct,"

"Yeah, exactly. I guess I broke that pattern today,"

"Mhmm, wow I feel a little special now," she teased.

I gave her a sarcastic look, a smirk finding its way onto my face.

"Don't think I've ever seen you smile properly, not anywhere near me at least,"

"Been watching me Russo?" I joked, but she actually went a little quiet. I brushed it off and had a sip of coffee.

After the momentary silence lifted, we continued chatting. Surprisingly to both of us, we actually got on well. Talking was pretty easy when I pushed the past to the back of my mind. However, I couldn't shake the confusion about what she'd said still.

We were getting along, so why had she been so against this when we met?

"Russo, I know you said it doesn't matter, but I think it does. I still don't get what you meant the other day, about liking me too much, and I'm trying to forget it, but-"

"It was a drunken mumble," she quickly became defensive, "I guess I just saw you being kinda nice to me and got my words mixed up,"

"I- I don't think that was it,"

"It's getting late, I think we should just call it a day,"

"No! No let's not do that, I can forget it, it's fine,"

I knew now that if we couldn't become civil after today then it might never happen, and Sarina would be on our arses, and we'd lose some cohesion in the team. It would go downhill very fast and wouldn't be good for anyone.

I started a new conversation, leaving my nagging thoughts to eat away at me, remaining unanswered. It was best.

When we did end up saying goodbye, it was well into the evening and ended up being a nice day.

At training the next day, it was clear something had improved. Sarina nodded reassuringly, giving me some new confidence in me and Russo, despite the fact that I still had questions.

I went home that day, mind fogged. It was starting to really eat at me from the inside, but I shoved it down, way down, and tried to get on with my day.

I got a call from Leah in the evening, asking if she could come over for a little evening in and some drinks. I quickly agreed, in need of a distraction and she was over 20 minutes later.

We snacked on some popcorn as we chatted over some random film on in the background.

"You've actually been playing really well recently," Leah mumbled.

"Don't sound too surprised Hun, I can play football funny enough,"

"Well, maybe on your good days,"

I giggled a little and slapped her arm jokingly. The effect of a few beers starting to make me a little merry.

"What's going on between you and Russo lately though, it's been really weird,"

"Ugh, I don't wanna get into it," I groaned.

"Oh okay, you don't have to,"

"Actually, I do," I stated bluntly, realising now how I needed to unpack everything, "but please don't tell anyone Leah, I just need to unpack a little,"

"I wouldn't do that,"

"I know you wouldn't. Normally this is the type of thing I'd talk to Tooney about, but to be honest I'm a little nervous that it would get back to Russo, considering how close they are and how chatty Tooney can be, especially when she's tipsy or something,"

"So, what's going on?"

"You remember when Russo and I first met, I thought we were gonna be friends, but she acted like she wanted nothing to do with me?"

"Yeah, I remember,"

"Well after I picked her up the other day from the pub, she crashed at mine, and I was actually being somewhat nice to her, cause obviously she needed some help being so drunk. But she kept ribbing me in the car and what not, just sort of our standard stuff really, except worse because she was drunk,"

"Right,"

"Anyway, we've actually got a little closer from it, partly because we weren't arguing at the whole time for once, and also partly cause Sarina basically told us to get our act together,"

"I saw that conversation, didn't look fun,"

"It wasn't, but we went for a drive that day and actually got along, like it was pretty fun,"

"So what's been eating away at you then? I can tell there's something on your mind,"

"It's this one thing she said to me whilst she was drunk. She said something along the lines of 'I couldn't be nice to you otherwise I would like you too much' and I haven't been able to figure out what she actually meant. I mean that's weird, right? Whenever I push her on it she just gets defensive and it ends up worse than before,"

"Yeah, yeah that's definitely weird," Leah agreed, but it looked like she was suppressing a small smirk.

"What?" she just laughed a little, "Leah what is it? What do you know that I don't. C'mon please tell me,"

"No, no I can't. I think you need to figure this one out yourself,"

"Leah, please, it's been on my mind constantly. It's affecting the way I play, it's affecting my life, I just can't deal with it anymore,"

Leah had a look on her face now, as if she was contemplating something really hard. I guessed she was debating explaining what she knew to me.

"Look, I think you should talk to Russo, she's rational and I'm sure-"

"I can't Leah, she'll just get irritated, and then it'll make it all worse again,"

"Okay, okay fine," she said and paused a lot.

"Leah, please-"

"Yeah, yeah it's just- look, when you two met, everyone thought that Russo might, well, might- no, no I just can't. It's not my place,"

I groaned dramatically at her back and forth with herself.

"You have to tell me now, you can't just leave it at that,"

"Well, everyone thought that Russo might have, well, a little... thing for you,"

She cringed at herself, and looked over to me, studying my blank expression. My head had exploded with thoughts.

"Obviously, we didn't know if it was true, I mean sure she'd stare at you when you played, and- what am I saying, oh god. Look I shouldn't have said anything, can you just pretend you didn't hear any of that... Y/N?"

I was staring off into space, mouth hanging open a little and eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh," is all I could manage to respond with.

"You should talk to her, okay. it wasn't my place to say anything and what do I know anyway. You should talk to her, it's not fair on anyone to just keep secrets,"

"No, I- I'm glad you told me. I will talk to her, I will,"

"For now, can we just- watch the film or something,"

"Yeah,"

"Popcorn?" she offered the bowl to me.

"Umm, no, thanks,"

She had a bit of a guilty expression on her face as she turned to the tv. I couldn't focus on the screen, or on anything really, my brain flicked between buzzing with questions to completely empty.

I got to talk to Russo the next day, she picked me up from my house in her car and we drove into town.

"Russo, I-"

"I know what you're gonna say, and I don't want you to say it,"

"Russo, okay please, it's been eating away at me, and I've tried to push it down but I just can't,"

I wanted to hear it from her, so I didn't mention anything Leah had said the day before. Russo kept her focus strictly on the road, acting as if I hadn't said anything.

"Russo, you said you couldn't be nice to me otherwise you'd like me too much. I hate to push you; I really do but I just have to get something from you. I don't know what you meant by that, and it's making me questions everything. I just can't keep thinking about it, I want to know, please,"

"I didn't mean anything by it, and I don't get why you can't just drop it,"

"I've tried!"

"I don't know what you want me to say,"

"I want you to tell me what it meant,"

"It didn't mean anything! I was drunk off my head, I couldn't even see straight I don't understand why you're holding me to something I said when I didn't even know what I was saying, and I don't even remember it!"

I couldn't think of anything else to say. She absolutely refused to explain what she'd said. If anything, her defensiveness just confirmed my suspicions that it had actually meant something - something she didn't want to admit.

"Alessia-"

"No, stop, I can't have this conversation right now,"

"Alessia, you've treated my awfully since we met, and granted I did the same to you, yes, but now you're telling me that maybe those years of resentment between us could've been avoided. And they can be avoided now if you tell me what you meant,"

"I can't believe you're still going on about this,"

"Of course I'm still going on about it, you won't tell me what it means and I can't eat I can't sleep I can't focus and I-" she interrupted my rambling

"Okay fine, I had this-" she started to say, but she stopped herself. It broke me when she was so close to giving an explanation but stopped. I felt sick at this point, there were tears starting to roll down my cheeks and my heart hurt.

"Pull over,"

"What?"

"Pull over, I need to get out. Pull over right now!"

"I'm in the middle of the road, there's nowhere to pull over, I can't just-"

"Alessia Russo pull over goddammit!"

"I fucking fell for you, ok, fuck. I'd known you for two days and I fell for you and I couldn't stop thinking about you and it hurt so much. I just couldn't live my days having feelings for you and shoving them back. I was the one who couldn't eat. I was the one who couldn't sleep or focus or breath or function. It hurt to see you laughing with someone else, it hurt to feel so much for someone who would never ever feel the same way. I just-"

"Please pull over," I whispered, and finally she did, the person behind her honking.

"I- shit. I- no- I," she started to stutter as I tried to organise my thoughts. I couldn't listen to her voice anymore, I just couldn't.

I kissed her. She was finally quiet. I kissed her, she kissed back. Her lips felt perfect. Her hand resting on my cheek felt perfect. Eventually I pulled away for air.

"I-" I started but this time it was her turn to interrupt me, pulling me back to her lips.

This time the kiss was deeper, more passionate. It was everything. Our lips moved together in sync; it was desperate, hungry. Our teeth were clashing, the occasional nibble on my lips. She shuffled around to get more comfortable, settling into the kiss until she accidentally hit the horn.

I jumped in surprise and pulled back. We sat back in our seats, not saying anything, just breathing heavily.

"I- I don't know what this means," she mumbled after a while of just sitting in contemplative silence.

"It means I fell for you too,"

I'm actually pretty proud of this, so hope you enjoyed!

#alessia russo #lionesses #oneshot

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taeraemisu · 9 months

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i found you ; gunwook zb1

synopsis ; gunwook and reader were lovers in their past life but a certain accident kills the two, separating them. gunwook, who remembers all his past lives, made it his personal mission to find reader over and over again, even if it meant living multiple lifetimes without them

genre ; based on see you in my 19th life ! (was listening to one of their ost while writing this) reincarnation, soulmates if you think, angst, i-love-you-in-every-universe, deaths

pairings ; gunwook x reader, mentions of junhyeon

word count ; 1.5k words

“look at what i got!”

gunwook looks up and sees you wearing a new semi-formal outfit. the both of you were in his house, just wanting to spend the day together. gunwook shows you his signature smile and ruffled your hair. maybe there are good things to look forward to in life. “i think you look great, what’s the occasion?”

“no occasion, i just wanted to look good.”

gunwook smiles again and pokes your cheek. he does not hesitate to show you how much he adores you. he had lived so many different lives that he never bothered to find love, but yet you, were different. knowing most of his lives were short-lived, he never hesitated to tell you how much you mean to him. this time though, he is praying for a life where he could grow old with you. “you always look good,” he says, admiring you once more.

you blushed slightly and hit his shoulder playfully. “you and your way of words-“

he grins and gives you a hug, cutting your words off. “let’s go out today. we can’t let that good outfit go to waste, can we?” he holds your hand and picks up a few of his belongings, before leaving the house and heading to the car. he opens the car door and lets you go in first. “after you, my lady,” gunwook says in a british accent. you laughed at his words and get in, gunwook closing the door after you before getting into the driver’s seat.

you both drive off, you admiring how gunwook looks while driving. how could you get so lucky? you were not that affectionate of a person but gunwook knew that he means to you as much as you mean to him. “hey gunwook have i ever told you-“

the screeching of the tires rang throughout your ears, causing the both of you to flung forward and back, your foreheads bleeding upon impact. glass shards flew everywhere, cutting your skin before you passed out momentarily.

no, no, no! gunwook panicked when he regained consciousness, barely able to open his eyes. the both of you were now on the ground, the car flipped over. he quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled his way towards you, unbuckling yours and trying to drag you out of the car with as little energy he have left. “yn! wake up! please!” he pleads, tears pouring out of his eyes. he pokes your cheek softly, hoping you wake up. he feels his energy start to drain away and he knew he did not have that much time left.

“yn, you can’t hear me but-“ his voice cracks and he lays down beside you, losing his energy. “i will find you, please, remember me.” gunwook was crying by now, you weren’t responding to him. “i will remember you so promise me you will, please?”

sirens were ringing in his ear and he wanted to see you do any sort of sign that you heard what he said. why was life so unfair? why did his current life end so early when he was finally happy?

“yn, i-“

and it all went black.

first life without you . .

gunwook groans. he was reborn as the son of a conglomerate family. although his current life is luckier than most, he could not enjoy it.

you weren’t here.

he did not know where to start. how could he find you? what are the chances you will remember him? or your past life? he was currently 23 years old, twenty-three years without you.

“i arranged a blind date for you,” his father enters the room, giving gunwook the details. he sighs but doesn’t protest. going on blind dates was the fastest way to find you.

he went on the date, but he did not like it. she was someone who was arrogant and believed she should get her way, which was so different from you that it disgusted gunwook. he left halfway through the date, not wanting to deal with her further.

how much longer could he live without you?

third life without you . .

gunwook was reborn as the son of a nice couple that owns a family restaurant. gunwook took full advantage of the fact, serving and helping out as much as he can. with more customers, the higher the chance he could find you.

he has now lived forty-eight years without you, his previous two lives being short, but it wasn’t worth living if it meant you weren’t around.

“this is for table 2.” his mother handed him a tray with stir-fried noodles with mayonnaise all over it and tempura on the side. gunwook looked at the dish. it was your favourite food. he remembers the first time he has seen you eating this particular combo and how unappealing it looked, but you were adamant on how good it was. gunwook had once took a bite and realised it was actually delicious but because he did not want to admit you were right, he would make the dish behind your back.

the memory brought a smile to his face and he quickly went to serve the dish, a little hopeful but to his dismay, it was someone that he immediately knew wasn’t you.

“enjoy your food,” he says, a little disappointed before turning away.

sixth life without you . .

gunwook has now lived a hundred and fifteen years without you. in this life however, he was blessed with the ability to sing and dance. in fact, his name was the one he was given when he first met you. he was park gunwook again.

“you should audition to be an idol!” his friend, kum junhyeon, would constantly tell him but gunwook would always shake his head, disagreeing. he does not want to bring any attention to himself, when he still could not find you.

“you being an idol or famous could help you find that person you have been wanting to find-“

gunwook did not have to listen further. he immediately recorded and posted a video of him singing to a song and it went viral almost immediately. he has been scouted by companies to train under them but he declined them all, hoping to stay independent. junhyeon, however, has taken the role of his manager, helping gunwook edit videos and secure any deals.

a year or so have past by since then and gunwook made a small name for himself. he performs at small cafes and restaurants and holds small fanmeetings every now and then. only to find you, of course, but yet, he was making very little progress.

“the fansign starts in a few minutes,” junhyeon mentions, preparing gunwook before he gets on stage. “maybe the person you like is here?”

gunwook sighs. he does not want to give up but his chances are getting slimmer and slimmer. “i don’t know man, what if they aren’t here?”

junhyeon gives his friend a sad smile. “even if they aren’t maybe …” his eyes goes all over the place, finding a way to cheer his friend up. “i am sure they are cheering for you from afar!”

gunwook returns a smile before heading onto stage, greeting fans and soon, the autograph session begins. an hour or so passed, the autograph session ending but with no sign of you. he has lived over a hundred years without you, how much longer must he live till he finds you again?

“no luck?” junhyeon asked, patting him on the back. gunwook shakes his head, disappointed but not surprised. junhyeon drops him off at home, assuring him that there is a right time for everything. he drives off, leaving gunwook standing in front of his apartment block.

disappointed and sad, gunwook heads to the nearby convenience store. he did not have the urge to cook anything. he goes in and bought a few items for himself, planning to have his late-night snack in the store itself. he opens a bag of chips and pops a few into his mouth when-

“i didn’t go to the fansign.”

gunwook, intrigued, turned to look at the person who was sitting a few chairs away from him, talking onto the phone. for a moment, he thought it was about him but he wasn’t that famous so he dismissed the thought away, not wanting to stare.

“i wanted to okay! but my boss needed me to work and i just … didn’t go. it’s probably better that way, i would have panicked and not talk at all as soon as i see the park gunwook.”

gunwook’s ears perked up and looked right back again. the way the person said his name felt all too familiar.

“there will be another chance in the future-“ the person turned to looked at gunwook and that’s when everything clicked.

it was you.

“i have to go, bye.” you hung up the phone and stared at gunwook, embarrassed that you were just fangirling over him when he was right beside you. but an unknown feeling came over you as you look at him. then, everything clicked.

“i found you.”

“it’s you.”

#taeraemisu #zb1 #boys planet #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone #park gunwook #gunwook x reader #gunwook imagines #zb1 gunwook #zerobaseone imagines #zb1 oneshots #zb1 scenarios #zb1 reactions #park gunwook x reader #zerobaseone x reader

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uglypastels · 2 months

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The Boy is Mine (Z's edition) // e.m.

a/n—guess who's baaaaack. Yeah, I didn't expect it either, but a long and lonely day and some scrolling through this hell site made me stumble upon a few posts that actually made me excited to write again, so here I am.

This fic is a part of @carolmunson's blurb challenge. I had so much fun writing this, and thank you so much, Carol, for sparking that inspiration back in me.

word count: 2.4k

warning: a LOT of fluff. Eddie and reader being menaces towards each other. teasing. playfighting. slight spanking. innuendos and suggestive talk. Swearing. possibly rusty writing as this i haven't written anything in months (i think that's it??)

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain -Midnight Rain, Taylor Swift

The downpour came completely out of nowhere as if someone up in the heavens was throwing buckets and buckets of ice-cold water at the same pace. The entire morning had been a perfect summer’s day, bright and sunny, warming up the ground underneath you, toasting all rooms and cars. It’s what made you want to go out in the first place. You had enough of sitting on the couch every weekend and practically dragged Eddie out of the house by the sleeve of his baggy sweatshirt.

Now he was the one hauling you back inside, both of you looking like a pair of drenched cats.

‘I swear to God, if you don’t get your ass over here right this second!’ He shouted through the rain, his hair sticking to his face, water dripping down onto the floorboards of the trailer. He just ran inside, holding an arm out to keep the door open.

‘I’m coming.’ you said, with none of the urgency that Eddie held in his tone. The rain, while cold, felt nice and refreshing against your face. Taking a deep breath in, you let the summer night air fill your lungs, almost forgetting about your impatient boyfriend who was standing waiting for you on the threshold. He called out your name, but you weren’t listening.

‘I’m serious, sweetheart,’ Eddie leaned against the doorframe, growing tired as he watched you twirl around in the rain. ‘If you don’t stop and come inside right this second, we’re gonna have a problem.’

‘I really doubt it,’ you shouted back, making another turn on your heels as the rain caught your cheeks. You couldn’t quite explain what made you act like this, but it was a freeing feeling to just stand outside and let Mother Nature weep her sweet, sweet tears.

‘Oh yeah, and why’s that?’ Eddie challenged, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

‘Because you’re too much of a pussy to come outside and get wet again.’ It was a known fact that Eddie hated rain or water in any form, really, touching him. If there was a way for a person to take dry showers, he would be the first in line to try them. There was something truly unexplainable about him but truly endearing, so who could blame you if you poked fun at the way he groaned when he couldn’t dry himself off properly after a swim or moaned about his hair being a mess?

Even from the distance of the driveway and the gloomy twilight as the sun set, you could see the blank stare he was sending your way; that are you shitting me right now glare only he could provide so casually and yet charmingly.

You poked your tongue out teasingly at him as you twirled around once more, arms spread wide open to receive another bucket load of rain on top of you.

‘C’mon, you’re gonna get sick!’ your boyfriend made another attempt at getting you inside, but if you were one thing, it was stubborn. All spun out, you leaned against the hood of his van. Perhaps a bit too provocative, with your chest forward, as you took deep breaths. You weren’t sure how soaked through your shirt was yet and if the water made the material see-through, although, seeming from Eddie’s reaction, it just might have been. You had closed your eyes but dared to shoot a glance up at him briefly and just about caught him cursing to himself.

You had spent most of the day driving around, stopping here and there to grab something to eat, but it had been right as you decided to stroll past Lover’s Lake that the clouds formed above your heads, and the rain started to fall. Eddie, ever the romantic, ran back to the van like a startled alley cat, quickly disappearing into his comfortably, dry enclosure, and he had run just as quickly back into the trailer once you got there. Overall, besides his hair, he suffered minor damage. His clothes were already nearly fully dry again, but the rain had only gotten worse since then, and there was no way he would—

Your boyfriend cursed again, shaking his head in amusement, as he pulled his sweater over his head and threw it behind him to the ground. You knew as soon as he made that one step past the threshold. You were fucked.

‘Don’t you dare,’ he said the second he saw you hesitantly step back. Ironically, his threat spurred you on to keep moving, and before you knew it, the two of you were making laps around the car through the muddy ground.

‘C’mhere you,’ Eddie said, and despite your best efforts, you both knew it was inevitable that he would eventually catch up to you. You shrieked out as your feet suddenly left the ground, and you were hoisted up over his shoulder.

‘Eddie!’ you hit him on the back, getting bumped up and down as he walked proudly to the trailer door. ‘Put me down!’

‘Just so you can run away again? No way, princess,’ he chuckled, adjusting his grip on you, making you bounce around even more. His hand rested on the back of your bare thigh, the shorts you were wearing that day doing a not-so-tremendous job of covering you up. God, the walk up to the trailer had never felt that long.

‘Edmund Lorenzo Munson,’ you stated, ‘put me down– ahh!’ you squealed as you felt the sharp snap of his hand against your ass. ‘You did not just do that!’

‘You bet I did,’ and to prove his point, he did again, this time a little harder. ‘I told you it would only mean trouble for you if you stayed out there.’

‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ you rolled your eyes just in time before he put you back on the ground. The trailer was warm from a long, sunny day, and the usual ambience of the clock above the TV was overruled by the harsh tap-tap-tapping of the rain on the roof.

‘Oh, I’m dramatic,’ Eddie scoffed, ‘says Miss Let-me-run-around-in-the-rain-until-I-catch-pneumonia.’

‘Ok, first of all,' you held up a finger. ‘That’s not even true. I was out there for about five minutes, so don’t be like that. Second,’ you pointed up a second digit. 'That was dramatic. And third…’ You had finally let yourself look down at his naked, rain-soaked chest. ‘Actually, never mind.’

‘No, no, finish your thought, princess.’ His arms twisted around your waist, swaying the two of you from side to side. His lips were stretched in a wicked grin. Perhaps you were making him forget the state he was in and that he was, in fact, supposed to be mad at you, at least a little bit.

‘You know what, I suddenly forgot what I wanted to say.’ You shrugged and slipped out of his hold, reaching the couch. Once sat, you had the perfect view of your boyfriend, who stood towering over you in nothing but his ripped jeans, arms now crossed as he shook his head in disbelief. His rain-kissed skin was shimmering in the room's low light, and his hair was once again drenched, with curls still dripping water onto his shoulders.

‘Why am I not surprised by that,’ Eddie’s smile persisted as he looked you up and down, a line of worry crossing his brows. ‘I’ll get you some dry clothes.’ And with that, he turned around but did not even take three steps before a small pillow hit the small of his back. But Eddie, accustomed to your hijinks as well as you were to his, barely flinched and affectionately put up his middle finger.

‘Love you too!’ you shouted after him, already peeling off your shirt. Now that you were inside, the room's warmth started tingling your body, and the dampness of your clothes felt suffocating. Not that you would ever admit to the goosebumps rising on your arms—no, not to Eddie, at least.

A few seconds later, Eddie returned wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants and holding a stack of fresh clothes for you. He threw them at you one by one, but with some effort, you caught everything despite his terrible aim. You then considered throwing your wet clothes back at him, but the poor boy had suffered enough, so you quickly got dressed. In the meantime, Eddie headed over to the kitchen, looking for something in the cupboards.

‘I was going to suggest making something to drink to warm us up,’ he answered before you even got the opportunity to ask, ‘but it seems I run out of, like, nice cups.’ Nice, in this case, really just meaning “clean”. He looked around some cupboards while you walked up to him, wrapping yourself around him and looking over his arm at the pile of dishes.

‘There, I used that one this morning.’ You pointed at a mug that had once been clearly hand-painted by a kindergarten Eddie. The wonky blots of colour almost matched the inside, which was stained with coffee remnants from that morning.

Eddie picked it up, hesitating, ‘you sure?’

‘Yesh, of course, just rinse it off, you dork.’

While Eddie got busy making what you hoped would be hot chocolate, you busied yourself by looking through the other cupboards for something to eat. ‘Do you have anything sweet in here?’ You were still looking around the shelves when Eddie pulled your chin in his direction and pecked a kiss onto your lips.

‘I meant more like cookies or something, but thank you.’

‘Yeah, I think we got a pack of those iced biscuits around here somewhere.’ Indeed, on top of the highest shelf, which he knew you wouldn’t be able to reach, there was an unopened pack of sugar-vanilla-icing-coated cookies. By the time Eddie handed you your mug of hot chocolate, you had already eaten two, dipping your third one in the drink. Knowing Eddie, he would have already poured in some colder milk for you, leaving you with no need to be hesitant on your first sip. The beverage warmed you up from the inside, and you couldn’t help but let out a satisfied sigh of relief.

‘What?’ you looked up at Eddie, feeling his gaze on you, but as soon as you addressed him, his eyes focused on his own drink.

‘Nothing.’ He leaned casually against the counter.

‘No, no, you were clearly thinking something so just spill it out.’

He made you wait by taking one long sip of his hot chocolate (extra cinnamon). He leaned forward to grab a cookie, but you quickly pulled them away, knowing he was trying to prolong your wait for an answer.

‘Fine,’ he smiled, ‘I was just thinking that you’re so fucking cute when you’re stubborn.’

‘Try again, loverboy,’ you replied, unimpressed.

‘It’s true!’

‘It’s not, and we both know it,’ you glared at him with narrowed eyes. ‘So just tell me.’

‘It was, actually,’ he stole the cookies back from you, taking one. His eyes never left yours as he scraped the sugary vanilla icing off the top with his teeth. You both tried keeping a serious face, but that was simply never an option for the two of you. It was just the question of who was first to break.

You kept looking at him with your unimpressed and unconvinced look, trying hard to push back the smile, much like he was most likely.

‘Ok fine,’ he bit into the biscuit. ‘I was just thinking, I can’t believe that you even make your biscuits wet. Like, that is actually horrid.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ You laughed, exasperated, finally cracking down on your serious look. ‘Eddie? Seriously?’

‘Yes! I mean, look at it,’ He pointed at the cookie you just pulled out of your drink. Half of it was darker as it soaked up the liquid, the icing slightly melting off, too. ‘It’s all soggy and gross, and you like that?’

‘You need to get yourself checked out, Munchie.’ You bit into the “soggy and gross” biscuit, enjoying the chocolatey infusion of the baked good.

‘Very funny.’ He slurped his hot chocolate until he drained the last sips out of the mug and placed it down on the counter, nearly pushing off a stack of plates. You weren’t far behind him, finishing your own drink and placing the dish back as well. The two of you were shuffling around the small kitchen space, manoeuvring past each other until you wrapped your arms around him, engulfing him in a tight embrace. Eddie kissed the top of your head as you murmured a sweet “thank you”.

‘For what?’ He asked.

‘For everything.’ You said against his chest. ‘Taking me out today, the hot chocolate, making sure I don’t die from pneumonia.’

‘Well, it’s still early.’ He corrected your last point, and you let your teeth grace over his chest, nipping him lightly.

‘Ow!’ he laughed through his shock and pain. ‘Did you just bite me?’

‘No.’ You said, mouth right against the fabric of his shirt.

‘No,’ Eddie mimicked your mumbling, pressing his face against your hair. ‘God, you’re so annoying.’

‘Am not!’ you gasped. ‘You are.’

‘I am?’ He raised his brow, and stupidly, you agreed.

‘Yes.’

‘Ok, fine.’ and so, you were up in the air again. ‘I’ll show you just how annoying I can be.’ With you over his shoulder once more, he brought you into his bedroom, dropping you into free fall down onto the mattress. You bounced as the springs creaked underneath.

The room was a mess, and you had to push an abundance of random objects off the bed as you made your way to the top of it. Shirts, underwear, folders, guitar picks, pencils and books all fell to the ground. Eddie got onto the mattress, too, falling to his knees upon it and slowly making his way to you. You were all too aware of his tactics, knowing he was trying to take the slow approach to tease you. So, instead, you tried to make yourself a bit more comfortable, propping up the pillows for a better headrest. Picking one up, you noticed the little brown notebook lying there.

‘Dear Diary, God, Harrington is so hot. I swear I just want to take his big fat—’ You started making up things as you flipped the pages, but before you could read into any of the actual lyrics or campaign ideas that Eddie had jotted down, he ripped the notebook out of your hands and threw it across the room, falling somewhere onto his desk into a pile of cassettes.

‘I hate you.’ He said with a smile, his hair now tickling your cheeks as it dangled down in semi-wet strands.

‘Hate you more.’ You pulled him in by the collar, kissing him passionately, continuing your chaotic yet perfect day until the late hours of the night.

the end.

my own analysis on the challenge - i feel like "my Eddie" is different each time I write him, even when writing for no particular au, but I usually I do try to make him a little bit goofy and awkward, always in on the joke and hyper and just.. .cute, ya know haha. I also always love to add in random ideas about him, so that's how we get hydrophobic!eds here, but he's also totally got a major sweet tooth, and yes, his middle name is Lorenzo. i don't make the rules.

I also feel like setting the setting as a "romantic" night will really show what people consider romantic in terms of personal preference, which should be super interesting to read.

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to check out more of my writing, feel free to do so here

and all the other stories from this challenge are somewhere around here

and if you enjoyed this fic, please remember that the best way to support writers is to reblog and comment <3 and my inbox is also always open if you feel like talking more :))

Feel free to join my Taglist:

I bet yall didn't expect this to still be working lol

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #fanfiction #fluff #writing challenge #blurb #imagine #fanfic #fic

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die-pink-maus · 4 months

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A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III

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thepixelelf · 6 months

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warnings: story starts after a car crash. wc: 1.6k

[sooo, what did I miss?] The first thing you notice when you come to is the acrid fumes in the air. They tickle your nose and rouse a cough from the deepness of your chest, which travels up your throat and comes out as a choke. Your head feels like it's filled with seawater -- like it's been drowning for hours, but you can't let the pain and grogginess hinder you from moving. You have to get out of your car if it's smelling this much like gasoline, and fast.

Your entire body feels stiff. At first, you try to flex your fingers, get the blood pumping enough to make use of them at all. Opening your eyes proves to not be much help. The fumes sting against your eyeballs, and you can't see past the engaged airbag anyhow. Instead, you keep your eyes screwed shut and grunt as you lift both arms to push the deflating airbag out of your way. On muscle memory alone, you fumble for the key in the ignition. Your fingers, for a few seconds, are too weak to twist the key, but after a few determined yanks, you successfully turn off your car. With one possibility of an explosion knocked off the list, you heave yourself off the car seat and shove your body into the driver's side door, thankful when you can open it just fine.

Whatever you'd hit after veering off the road, at least it didn't--

Fuck, why did you veer off the road?

As you fall out of your car, hacking up a storm, having inhaled too much smoke, you try to gather your memories together, but find nothing. There's this lingering feeling... You know something made you jerk both hands on the wheel and swerve off the freeway.

You just don't know what.

Deciding that the memory will probably come back to you later, you stumble a good number of steps away from your car and collapse once again to catch your breath. The cool night air does your lungs well, easing the fire that's still burning in your chest little by little. A metallic taste coats the inside of your mouth. You'd bitten your tongue during the crash.

The roads around you are empty, but what did you expect at sometime-past-three in the goddamn morning? You'd been... yes, you were on your way to the other side of the city, choosing the freeway over the hustle and bustle of traffic in the city streets. Seungcheol had called you.

Well, no. One of Seungcheol's friends had called you using his phone. They asked you to come pick him up from the club they were at because he was apparently "blasted". Though, he was lucid enough to have his friends call you rather than his older sister, who you suspected would chew him out for drinking during his university's exam season.

Even though you're closer to Seonhui, you tend to err on the side of the "cool uncle" type to Seungcheol, despite being only four years older than him. You know, the type of person you can call to pick you up from the bar without getting upset at you for being there in the first place. Someone who has no stake in any of your life decisions, so they get the privilege of not having to judge you for any of them.

He'd said something about Seonhui -- you had heard his voice yelling in the background of the call. Something about how she didn't have to know and about something important he had to tell you when you showed up.

You groan thinking about him. Poor guy; now his sister actually does have to know because her friend is an idiot who drives off freeways for no discernible reason. Feeling around your pockets, you sigh in relief when you find your phone. There's no way you'd want to search your now hellmouth of a car for it.

You know the logical thing to do first is call emergency services, but you could be on the phone with them for who knows how long. Might as well tell the person who's depending on you that you can't make it. Dialling the most recent number isn't difficult, really, although you're starting to feel the chill in the air. You shiver as you bring your phone up to your ear.

"You've reached the voicemail of--"

His voice interrupts the automated one. "Choi Seungcheol."

"--please leave a message after the tone."

You frown at the beep that rings in your ear. Seungcheol should be looking at his phone if he's waiting for you to pick him up, or at least have the ringer on. You wait only a few seconds after hanging up to call him again.

This time, the low trill rings twice before he picks up.

"...Hello?"

You're a bit out of it at this point, having just crashed your car and all, but you think he sounds... slow, like he just woke up, but also hesitant. Since you can't think of a reason he'd sound like that, though, you just ignore it.

"Hey, listen," you say, voice raspy from all those noxious fumes. "I can't pick you up anymore. Sorry"

He doesn't respond for a moment.

A long moment.

"...What?"

He must be pretty drunk.

"I got into a little accident. Princess--" That's what you, Seonhui, and Seungcheol affectionately call your shitty 2007 Honda Civic. You look over at your still-smoldering car and grimace. "--she's done for."

More silence. It's strange... there's no sound in the background, either. Did he move outside?

"Anyway, you're gonna either have to bite the bullet and call Seonhui or maybe try an Uber--"

"Is this some sort of sick joke?"

Your words come to a halt at his sudden, bitter tone, and you let out an incredulous huff of a laugh. "Look, man, I crashed Princess on the side of the road, so I'm sorry" --your tongue curls sarcastically around the apology-- "that I can't pick you up from your drunken bender."

"How do you know about Princess?"

"What the hell are you on about, Seungcheol? How do I know about my car?" An exasperated breath escapes you, and you choke on it for a second. After the short coughing fit has cleared, you bring your phone back to your ear. "You're drunker than I thought. Don't you have an exam soon or something?"

"Exam-- who is this?"

That makes you pause.

"Seungcheol," you say, simply. "It's me."

Another moment of quiet passes, and you wonder to yourself if you've suffered a concussion.

Then he asks, "What's my favourite food?"

"What does that have to do--"

"Answer the question."

Sighing, you wrap your free arm around your middle in a futile attempt to stay warm. "You tell everyone it's pork cutlet, but I know for a fact that you keep a stash of white chocolate in your room."

You hear him exhale. "Fuck."

"I don't underst--"

"Where are you?" he asks, a frantic tone to his voice now.

"Umm..." You glance around. "Highway 216... close to exit thirty-four."

"Don't move. I'm coming to get you."

You shake your head, struggling to keep up. "What? If you're calling me an Uber, don't bother. I have to call EMS to file the--"

"Don't," Seungcheol insists, and you have no idea why, but you feel inclined to listen. "Listen to me. Do not call anyone. Wait until I get there."

"There's a fine if you don't report an accident in twenty-four hours."

"Trust me." The sound of a car door slamming shut on his end of the line only gives you more questions. "You don't need to bother."

It takes only fifteen minutes for Seungcheol to find you, and by then you're shivering from head to toe.

A car you've never seen before pulls over and parks hastily near where you're standing (the cold ground got a little too cold). Its four-way flashers turn on before a familiar-ish figure exits and starts making his way towards you, silhouetted by the car's headlights.

"Since when can you drive?" you call out first, since it's definitely a surprise to you seeing your friend's little brother behind the wheel. You could've sworn Seonhui was whining about his lack of license a week ago. "And-- wait, should you be driving? You were just drinking--" He steps even closer, and you see the wisps of his hair lit by the headlights behind him. "Are you blond? When did that--"

You don't get the chance to finish your question. Seungcheol pulls you tightly into him, his hand on the back of your head pressing your face into his coat so all you can really say is "oomph."

Seungcheol's never really hugged you before. At least, not like this. His fingers dig into the fabric of your clothes, like he's clutching desperately to something that will slip from his grasp if he loosens his hold even in the slightest.

It faintly registers to you that he doesn't smell like alcohol at all.

You try to speak, muffled as you are against his coat. "Seungcheol, what--"

"I dyed my hair last week," he says, breathless. The words are panted over your ear, and it's then you fully realize how closely he's wrapped himself around you. You go to say something about how you saw his black hair just the other day, but he continues. "I'm four years sober next month."

The numbers are not crunching. "That doesn't--"

"And my license," he says, finally pulling back just enough so that you can see his face. "I got that in 2018."

You frown. "It's 2016."

Seungcheol breathes out your name, but all you hear is warning bells. You can tell by the pitying look on his face -- as much as it's mixed with relief. You're not going to like what he says next.

"It's 2023," he tells you, saying your name again like it's precious. He holds you tighter. "You've been missing for seven years."

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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 1 year

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slashers x child reader who just LOVES to sleep and just passes out everywhere. Also can the reader have a lil stuffed bunny that would be sooo cute!

It's like everyone is reading my mind, I was thinking about this a few days ago 🫣

I got lazy at the end I'm sorry 🫠

Slashers x child! Reader who loves sleeping

Michael

Would be lowkey concerned for you, are you not having enough sleep?

Despite the man not caring much about his himself he is worried for you.

he sees you sleep like almost every time he sees you and then starts to calm down. But he wonders why you don't get extremely hyper after sleeping all the time.

But he never saw you full out pass out before so when you did he got really scared. He thought you died. 😭

It was a long day, you got yelled at in class by your teacher for sleeping in and you were forced to stay awake which you almost failed after five seconds but you didn't want to be embarrassed in your whole class again.

You wanted to sleep so badly you started yawning so much even the others around you started yawning.

And when class ended you immediately went to the myers house instead of your parents and the sight of the couch made you passed out, unfortunately you missed the couch but fortunately the bunny you were holding saved you from heading head first onto the ground.

Michael who just witnessed all this was quite distraught, what happened? Did you die of exhaustion??

He tried nudging you but that didn't work you didn't move. So now he was getting really perturbed. He holding you now and shaking you a bit and you still didn't wake up and he was almost close to throwing you out the window because you wouldn't wake up. But then he started hardly gripping on you and that's when you shot up to the sudden pain you felt on your shoulder blade.

"Dad what happened-"

He just squished you in his arms and stomach. Which made you pass out again and it became a cycle like a few more times.

Your teachers body was also found on the news.

(Ps your parents were later questioning why you smelt like dirt and blood)

But it's a win win for both of you since he won't disturb you when you sleep and you don't disturb him when he goes out killing.

sometimes decides to watch you sleep when he's bored and doesn't have the need to kill. Creepy or cute? You decide although he isn't going to stop whatever your opinion on it is.

Sinclair brothers

Bo doesn't mind it much except when you just fall wherever you feel is sleeping on worthy and also when there are tourists and he has to use you because you are perfect when luring them in especially with your cute little bunny. You make victims want to drop on their knees and beg for you to like them. (not in a weird way 💀) but he also feels the same way too. Don't be fooled if he doesn't show it. He has a smol room with the most comfortable blankets and sheets he can find just for you. 🥹 he also lets you snuggle up to him whenever you want to. His face is a bored annoyed looking expression but inside it's "oh my god, this precious baby oh you gorgeous thing *sobbing*"

Vincent slightly worries at how much you sleep and how fast you do but won't question it much. You are welcome in the basement anytime and he lets you sleep in his room when its cold outside, you three (your lil stuffed bunny too) sometimes end up cuddling. He likes having company occasionally but you don't make your presence known that much except for your slight snoring and breathing but that's okay. Atleast you won't see the naked bodies while he does his sculpting.

Lester doesn't mind at all. Actually encourages you to. His thoughts on it are basically "they're just a baby! They need sleep to grow!" He takes you on a drive around the town and sometimes out of town if you like sleeping in his car with your little bunny. If Bo ever catches him in the act of doing this though he may lose his driving you around privileges. He naps with you along with jonesy too. You three four are the cutest trio there can be it makes anyone wanna cry out of cuteness overload.

Bonus: jonesy! She follows you 24/7 to ensure you're safe because what if you're napping outside and there comes a random pedo Or kidnapper in town and they try anything on you. They wouldn't have lasted long anyways because lester and Bo have their eyes everywhere you are in but just to be safe.

Hannibal

That's one of the many things he immediately noticed about you. Your never ending love for sleep. He lets you sleep all you want yes. But he wonders if you're sleep deprived. But he learns that you just really like sleeping and stop wondering.

Gets disturbed everytime you just fall anywhere though, if you're feeling sleepy just tell him and he'll so generously carry you to your comfy luxurious room.

He sketches you sleeping with your bunny and shows it to you when you wake up and chuckles a bit if you get a little weirded out and sketches you even more if you express your love for it but if you're truly uncomfortable by it then he'll stop.

Also will also watch you sleep from time to time. He just loves you and your sleeping face. If your bunny gets old and worn out he'll buy you a new one but he'll adjust it to look more like your old one because he's thoughtful just like that.

He schedules and learns at what time you mostly sleep at and how it takes for you to wake up so that when you wake up you are greeted with fresh warm food and a smily motherly hannibal.

He may or may not send pictures of you to Will... Will shows up at his house to visit you and just watches you untill you wake up so that you three can play together. Yay 🎊 🎉

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adventuringblind · 9 months

Text

Drive with you Forever

Chapter Nine: Find me at your doorstep

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: summer break is interrupted, Guenther is exasperated, Seb is a father to four kids who can't communicate, and the reader reveals an interesting piece of information

Warnings: kidnapping, medical abuse, physical abuse, drugging, lack of communication, throwing up, sickness, blood, mild gore, Jos Verstappen and his great parenting skills, mentions of SH

Notes: Listen, Y'all, this is probably one of my favorites so far. It's definitely not as comical as others, but it's dramatic and has some action.

Previous <-

Masterlist

She probably shouldn't have been alone. She got comfortable in the safety of their apartment. Her newfound willingness to not let her father get to her.

She shouldn't have left that day as she walked down the streets of Monaco. Pascale had invited her over for lunch, and although she could have driven, she wanted the fresh air.

It was stupid to leave the house, she thinks, as her body refuses to work. Her useless visions apparently don't show what happens to her directly, just what happens around her.

Now she's in a strangers car, her phone broken, and the energy that had doubled since her dad stuck her with the needle not working.

Her healing had gotten better, and she'd discovered how to make new things out of old things. Her visions are clearer and more consistent, and the telekinetic abilities made her feel more like a Jedi from Star Wars every day.

Again, it's all useless now.

"Has anyone heard from y/n?" Shouts Charles from the living room where he had been lazily lounging on the couch.

"No. Why?" Max pops his head out of the kitchen. It's grown on Charles to see the Dutch being domestic. He's protective of his kitchen and Charles being the number one threat is not allowed anywhere near it when he's cooking.

"She was supposed to be at my mom's house by now, and apparently, she's not there."

"She did walk there, so maybe she just took the scenic route?"

"But an hour late feels like a lot for that." The anxiety in Charles’ voice is evident.

"Let's not worry about it for now. She knows how to take care of herself."

Nobody had heard from her that night. Or the next morning.

The boys couldn't sleep. On the phone with anyone who might know where she is.

Nothing. It's like she disappeared off the planet.

"Do you think it's her dad?" Pipes Lando. The Brit had been pacing a hole in the floor, and both Charles and Max had made him slow down to breathe properly multiple times.

None of them wanted to consider the possibility, but it could be a likely option.

"god I hope not."

Her room hadn't changed. The small window is still letting in a cold draft at night. The only thing telling her how long she'd been here.

Five days. Five horribly long days.

The ties around her wrists ached. Her body hurt from being repeatedly drugged and tossed around like a sack of potatoes.

There were more people here now. More then she remembers there ever being at least. She knew there were people, men, who would come in and out but she was never allowed to speak with them.

For what it’s worth, whatever they were doing to her was making her stronger. She’d been able to transfer the wounds from one person onto herself. It’s keeping her captor at ease for now but she knows he wants more.

It’s not ideal and it’s painful. It’s like she can’t get past a mental block that will allow to simply heal. She can feel it somewhere deep within. She knows she can.

Bringing someone back from the dead however, that’s not healing.

Maybe if she’s able to bring back the corpse of her mother, they’ll trade places. Her soul finally giving into the peace of permanent unconsciousness. At least then her boys wouldn’t have to worry. They could move on without her. Find solace in each other.

Maybe, she thinks.

Sebastian is going to lose his mind. His daughter is missing and it feels like the only thing the journalists are writing about is how she probably ran off to be a slut for a different group of guys. He was going to have the heads of whoever wrote that if he ever sees them.

The boys had been staying in Germany with him. It hadn’t taken long for the authorities to determine she’s not in Monaco. They’d come here in hopes of reevaluating. Though they were at each others throats when they got here.

Seb had practically forced them to sit down and communicate. They started working together after that.

Hanna had been forcing them to eat proper meals. Seb made sure at least one of them slept at a time. Lando had recovered from four separate panic attacks over two days. Max is trying to look strong but his puffy red eyes give him away. Then there’s Charles; the monegasque had been blaming himself for not walking with her when he could’ve.

Seb had a feeling they were going to find her. She’s a fighter. The when part is much harder to figure out.

And for all their sakes, he hopes it’s soon.

Two weeks.

Two weeks of this nonsense.

She wonders if everyone is racing again. Or at lease getting ready too. This was not how she intended on spending her break.

She was getting closer to giving her father what he wanted. She was pulling herself to the edge of no return every time she worked in that rotting corpse of her mother.

Tonight, though, may be her only chance at escape.

They’d forgotten to drug her before leaving her in her room. The alcohol in their systems already taking effect.

She’d been able to slide off her restraints with ease. Her abilities strength coming in handy at the current moment.

Now she quietly is pulling out her window frame. It have never been sealed but she can’t help but feel satisfied when the screen pops out with a satisfying click.

She could care less how far the drop is. She’s two stories up with grass beneath her. She push herself out the window, her body facing the wall and hand gripping the ledge.

She swings herself outward and hits the ground with a soft thud.

Then she runs.

She had a destination in mind. Someone at the gas station she stopped at was nice enough to let her use their gps to see how far away she was under the guise of hers being stolen. Technically, she didn’t lie.

The walk to the Haas headquarters was six hours. But she didn’t stop until she got there.

Now she can’t help but lean herself against the front door, hoping someone notices her.

Guenther whistles a tune to himself as he arrives at work for the day. The sun is out and the birds are chirping. The definition of a great morning to him.

The familiar female figure slumped on the ground in front of the front door completely changes his tune. He quick to get her inside and find some fresh Haas shirts lying around for her to change into.

Once she’s awake and refreshed he sits her down in his office.

“Are you going to tell me why you spent the night outside the front door?” He sounds like a stern parent. She curls into herself. It’s reminiscent of how she was when he first got her when she was fifteen. Scared, shaking, and so quiet.

He’d known she went missing a little over two weeks ago. It was the reason the summer break had been extended. The FIA had been trying to get more security measures set in place.

“I need to call Seb, please.”

The boys were there the next day.

Guenther had taken her to his house despite her adamant refusal. The girl had been to tired to fight and eventually gave in.

It’s not long before she padding softly down to the dining room, halting in her tracks when she sees everyone. She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything. The boys don’t either. They don’t know how to approach her.

He led the four males inside and sat them down at his dining room table. “She’s sleeping right now.” Questions come flying at him from the three younger men. Seb shoots them all a look that says shut up and let him explain. “I’ll warn you that she’s a bit of a mess. Her father did a number this time around.”

after an hour of sitting, the anxious boys see the female peek her head around he corner. none of them know what to do. They don’t want to scare her away after what she’s been through.

Seb goes to her first. He approaches her slowly taking her in his arms. Then everything in her snaps. It’s just like when she had night terrors and was finally able to wake up from it. This time however, it had been real.

She spends the night in bed with Max. The house they're staying in lacks a bed big enough for all of them.

They had played a game of rock paper scissors, which Max won. He claimed his spot next to her with his signature winning grin.

Charles and Lando decided not to take a different bedroom and are curled up at the floor at the foot of the bed instead. Their soft snores confirm that they are, in fact, asleep.

Max holds her close. Every second with her precious. She'd been crying since they arrived. No matter what they did, she seemed to have a never ending supply of tears.

He'd been the first to assess the damage done to her body.

Diagnosis: terrible. He had half a mind to get Guenther to show him where the hell her father is staying so he can personally drag him to hell.

The cuts and incisions along her torso and chest are still red and puffy. The bruises that littered her skin are awful shades of blue, black, and yellow. Her eyes are dull with dark circles beneath. Her body seemed just as fragile as the day he first met her.

He felt himself slipping back into memories from years ago. Gentle touches so he didn't scare her, slow movements because she flinched away from anyone who moved fast.

Quiet until someone tried to say something mean to him or Seb.

Now she lays on his chest. Tears still fall onto his lightly colored t-shirt. And he finds himself wishing he'd have found her years before he met her, if only to tell her he'll be there for her. No matter what anyone says, he'll always find her.

Seb watches carefully as she picks at her piece of toast. According to Guenther, she hadn't been able to keep much down since he found her.

She protested eating anything, but Seb is a good negotiator. He promised that when she could keep food down that they would go home to Germany. Not back to Monaco yet because people are aching to get pictures of her.

"At this rate, I'll be old and wrinkly by the time you finish."

She shoots him scowl. "Aren't you retiring? Dosen't that mean you're already old?"

"Old is a state of mind."

She takes another bite. The taste could be that of a brick, but she's so hungry it would still taste delicious.

"I can't stop thinking about the car that got me."

"What do you mean?" Seb asks gently. She hadn't talked much about the whole ordeal yet. Little bits of information here and there but nothing to help him get a picture of what went on.

"The man driving the car. I knew him."

"But he wasn't your father? Or the man at your door?"

"No, he was older than my father and larger than the man at the door." She rubs her tembles in a struggle to remember.

"No need to think about it now. They're not going to get you again. Mostly because I think your boys might start a war if they do."

Their soft conversation is interrupted by Max speaking to his phone in angry Dutch. A clear sign of Jos being on the other end.

"je doet raar." (You're being ridiculous)

Her head perks up at the phrase. A familiar one Max uses with Charles when he is oblivious.

Max hangs of the phone in a huff amd site down with them at the table.

"Can you say that again?" She looks at Max. Her request odd to him, but he obliges. "je doet raar."

"He was on the phone speaking Dutch. He used that phrase." Her head gets a shooting pain, and lights dance through her eyes as she finds herself receiving the car ride.

This time watching scenes unfold in that past. This is new. Both with her and in the context of the situation.

She's in the passenger seat, and next to her is none other than Jos Verstappen.

Charles has never seen Max so angry. Which is saying something because Max is angry a lot.

The scene him and Lando walked into had been nothing short of catastrophic.

A female body tucked into Seb on the couch, the German attempting to get the attention of a specific Dutch. Max obviously is not listening and is letting the most foul things he's even heard him say about his father ring through all their ears.

It's interesting in a sense. The other three had never hesitated to show their distaste towards Jos, and Seb had managed to call him a poor excuse of a father to his face on more than one occasion.

There had been a time that Max had a tire malfunction and ended his race in the wall. Jos had gotten more aggressive then any of them would have liked and he is very lucky that nobody aside from Seb had been around to see it.

Seb has a sway with words. He knows how to make them stick. So when he saw Jos' hand land on Max's cheek, he didn't hesitate to step in.

The German gently tucked Max out of the way and faced the older Dutch with fire in his eyes.

"Didn't know a tire failure was deserving of a slap."

"This is between me and my son."

"As far as I'm aware, he's dating my daughter, which makes him mine also. Touch him again, and I'll take legal action."

It was one of the only times Seb had to hold Max comfortingly in his chest. Reassuring the boy that he did not deserve any of that even as Max explained why he did.

Lando is the fastest to act. His arms encircled around Max's body. He can visibly see him relax into the Brits hold.

"Jos was the one who took me originally." The female explains. Her knees tucked up to her chest, and her head rests on sebs shoulder. Charles makes note of how she looks more exhausted now the the last time he saw her.

The words didn't register with him. Not entirely anyway. It didn't make sense. How is it even possible that Jos is in kahoots with the devil?

It would seem they are both devils that somehow raised angels. Charles will only thank them for that, and only after he's killed them.

It's terrible really, the way they look at him. She is teary eyed and apologizing while Max looks clueless. And for the first time since Charles started dating him, Max is pleading with his eyes for help. The Dutch is clueless on where to go from here.

"Knowing that, Max, if you want to leave your dad out of this, we can." Mentions Seb. He knows that the way Jos brought up Max left him confused. His dad praised him and rewarded him one second, then hit him the next. It made thinking fuzzy for him, and since his father was never all bad, he told everyone that it was a good thing. He was attached to him regardless of the circumstances.

This was different.

"If he's going to kidnap my lovers, then he needs to be put away."

"That makes this easier. Know that my home is your home as it always has been, in case things get ugly."

Max nods his head at the German. Really, Seb had been his father figure since he was seventeen. Jos didn't have much say in his life anymore

After a third attempt at eating toast, she was finally able to keep it down. It was forced, and she had gagged multiple times, but it was still in her stomach after an hour.

They left soon after that, thanking Guenther profusely for , once again, rescuing her at her worst.

The perks of dating a world champion is that he now owns a private jet. They got home sooner than she expected because of it.

Hanna greeted them at the door and gently latched herself to her daughter. The relief coming in the for of salty tears.

She likes being at home in Germany. Seb had made sure to keep her old room clean. He even got a bigger bed once he heard Lando joined them.

The room feels comfortable and familiar. She's even able to fall asleep when she sits on top of the soft covers.

That is how the boys found her. Snoring softly, draped over the bed with her shoes still on. They carefully slip her shoes of and reposition her where she'll be more comfortable.

Then, they leave the room and shut the door behind them. Their conversation nothing but whisper right outside the door.

"Will she be able to drive next week?"

"I hope so. Maybe Charles will have a chance if she can't, though." The Dutch snickers. Charles hits his shoulder playfully. "I'm not sure how to move forward now. It seems like anything we do only prolongs the inevitable."

"We take it on day at a time then."

She managed to get herself to the race track. Driving may not be an option yet, but at least she was there. Christian wasn't going to let her drive until he got her physical report back.

Really it was Max telling him the truth about how she still can't keep down a full meal and is now dropping weight because of it.

She did eat some crackers and was fine. She's proud of herself for that one.

Despite Sergio driving the second redbull, she was happy to be back. The paddock felt similar to home in some ways.

The only new thing is that she's never alone. When free practice 1 comes around, Max dutifully places her on the pitwall next to Christian. She dosen't move until somone comes to get Her.

She feels mildly like a nuisance to them since they have to pay extra attention to her now.

She's stays in their hotel room the rest of the weekend until right before the race. Everyone in the garage is shocked to see her walk in alone.

All her boys end up on the podium, and it's the first time she's celebrated since she came back.

Three quarters through the season, and she's still not driving. Still training in more ways than one, but not driving.

She doesn't feel like she can. Her body is still physically decimated. She's able to keep down more then just toast now, but that's on a good day.

Her powers are at the strongest they've ever been. She's managed to learn more about self-defense in case someone tries to nab her again. But with that comes sticky note threats in Jos Verstappens' handwriting.

It's starting to look desperate.

Despite the state of her uncooperative body, she still went to every race. Attempting to be as supportive as possible from the sidelines.

It didn't feel as painful as when she felt as though she lost her spot the first time. This time, she still had purpose. She is doing her best to learn how to keep her family safe. That's all she could ask of herself.

All of them were glad she wasn't pushing to get back in the car. They all know about her aptitude for pain. Christian is amazed by how she's coping and fully supports her decision. Seb seems to be cheering her on in the pits even though he's the one driving.

She doesn't even bat an eye when Jos makes a vaugly threatening statement towards her. Because if she wanted, she'd have his head through the wall in a second.

She doesn’t let herself get comfortable this time. The nagging feeling that something worse is coming a constant in the back of her mind.

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak

@chanshintien

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restinslices · 3 months

Note

Heyyy omg first i wanted to say how much i love the things you write!! Thanks for giving me for free teehee ;p Second... sorry i always feel so awkward when i ask someone to write something that i dream of, like, i'm demanding or being selfish lmaooo im sorry for rambling... SORRY I NEED TO ASK ONLY YOU CAN DO IIITTTTT: So, i was watching Avatar: the legend of aang and there is this part when the group goes to a theater and Katara (the protagonist love interest) sits and then one of the group sits beside her and the protagonist is like "hey can you let me sit there?" its so cute like... SO SORRY, But do you think would be nice a fic, headcanon or anything when the reader is very liked by Kung Lao, Johnny and Kenshi (or any character you like) and they kind fight each other to stay closer to the reader or spend more time with them... Sorry for my bad english i had to let this out...

Idk why my brain was struggling to figure out how to write this but there we are. I hope you like it!

You were waiting for this particular movie for a long time and although you told them that coming with you wasn't necessary and you didn't wanna be a bother, they decided to join anyway

To you it looks like “wow, my friends are so nice”. To them it's “I can't wait to spend more time- y'all are coming too?!”

The fighting to stay near you begins early on

You ask to ride shotgun and obviously they say yes. Now they're fighting over who drives

Kung Lao says he can drive because he'll get you there quicker

Johnny says he can drive because he's the better driver and won't get you arrested (Kung Lao tends to speed)

Kenshi… well… he knows to sit this one out

None of them get their way though because Raiden ends up driving

Which annoys all of them because Raiden is the only one who doesn't like you

Childhood best friends who could only see each other as siblings type of shit. It pisses all of them off because that means Raiden is always near you

You go to a store to get snacks because who actually buys snacks at the movie theater?

And they are latched to you

You say to spread out and get whatever candy or snacks they want and they all magically want whatever snacks are in the aisle you're in

It's pathetic

Little problem though. You have two sides and it's three of them

There's behind you but it's not the same. It doesn't feel like they're apart of a conversation

“Everyone thinks I'm blind so to avoid suspicion, I should hold onto you”

Kenshi’s resourceful (I still don't know if he can see now or just in combat)

That guarantees him a spot by your side

Now the two most conceded people gotta fight for that next spot

Johnny immediately slides next to you but Kung Lao squeezes in and pretends he sees candy he really likes

He actually hates Sweet Tarts but it worked at least

These two are giving each other funny looks the whole time in the store

That's pretty much all they do the whole time you're in the store. Just sliding in between each other

Then you get back in the car and Raiden drives again, which still bothers them

You get to the theater, get your tickets and get to your room or whatever it's called. Last movie I saw in theaters was Black Widow-

You like sitting in the outer seat though so that means only one person can sit by you

Raiden goes to sit by you and at this point, they think it's on purpose

Johnny shoves $20 in his hand and has him sit somewhere else

So now the other two are mentally booing

Johnny goes to use the bathroom and Kung Lao sits in his seat, even though you say Johnny is gonna want his spot back

And of course Johnny comes back and wants Kung Lao to move, which causes a whisper argument and you have to take matters into your own hands and tell them both to move and for Kenshi to sit by you since they wanna be childish

They legit wanna kill each other now

“Everything was going fine. Why'd you take my spot?!” “You moved!” “I hate you” “Hate your debt” “Weren't you rejected as the champion?” “Weren't you?”

Kenshi is feeling great though. You guys are whispering and laughing the whole time

He definitely feels better than the other two

He makes sure to hold his bladder. Y'all are not finna fuck him over

The other two are side eyeing him the whole time

They use passing snacks as a way to still chat but you’re like “bro there’s a movie on”

The movie ends and you guys leave and they don't even protest about Raiden driving because they know it is what it is

They drop you off first and once you're inside, the yelling starts

Multiple things are revealed

A) Raiden knew what he was doing. He finds it funny.

B) Kung Lao and Johnny are now enemies for life

C) Kenshi believes he has a better chance with you now

More events will be planned and this will happen all over again so good luck

Y’all I made a library run and I’m so hype for these books. Y’all don’t understand. I was riding my bike back home with a smile on my face

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #kung lao #johnny cage #kenshi takahashi #raiden #kung lao x reader #johnny cage x reader #kenshi takashi x reader #kung lao headcanons #johnny cage headcanons #kenshi takahashi headcanons #mk1 headcanons

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numinousmysteries · 2 months

Text

Handfesta

He wants to marry her in a primeval fashion that transcends man and law and God.

MSR/S7ish/Explicit

@today-in-fic [on Ao3]

Although they’d been involved, entwined, inseparable, cosmically linked (take your pick, really) for years, he feared actually being with her would mean making promises he couldn’t keep. He’d want to give her the world: A husband who didn’t feel the urge to drive across the country at the mere suggestion of strange lights in the sky. A home to fill with as many blue-eyed babies as she wanted. Or, at the very least, a dog.

But he can’t marry her. They can’t live together. The babies are a moot point—an especially painful one after their failed IVF attempt. And look what happened to poor Queequeg.

In the end, though, pretending he didn’t love her proved more painful than admitting that he did.

***

If the world didn’t end in the early hours of the new millennium, it certainly shifted on its axis. The sun had yet to rise on the first day of the year and Dana Scully had already let him kiss her, insisted on staying the night at his apartment on the flimsiest of pretenses (to look over his barely fractured radius), and is now—assuming he isn’t hallucinating—naked, astride him, and riding his cock.

He isn’t ready to rule out a drug-fueled hallucination quite yet, although this feels pretty fucking real. Underneath the fingers of his one useful hand, the delicate skin on her hip feels soft and warm. Her scent envelopes him like a halo. Moving his thumb to the wet bud of her clit elicits more of the breathy moans that he could listen to for the rest of his life.

She throws her head back, exposing her pearlescent neck. Earlier on his couch, he lavished the skin there with hungry kisses as he fumbled with the buttons on her blouse. She pulled away briefly to put him out of his misery by freeing herself from her clothing. Then she dragged him by his good arm into the bedroom. She helped him out of his jeans but they didn’t bother getting his t-shirt off with his sling in the way so he kept it on as she got on top of him. The thin gray fabric covering his chest makes him feel oddly chaste like an actress who kept her bra on during sex scenes.

There’s nothing chaste about the way Scully is writhing above him, though. She’s so wet that he’d be nervous she'd slip off of him on each upstroke if she wasn’t also clinging to him so tightly. They shouldn’t fit together this well—fuck, they shouldn’t even get along—but they’ve seen phenomena far more difficult to explain than this, so why not?

She folds forward to kiss him and he sucks greedily at her mouth. Her lips are plump, swollen from the barrage of kisses he assailed her with the moment the apartment door shut behind them. Their New Year’s kiss at the hospital had been restrained, but it was enough to crack open the floodgates between them. They barely spoke on the drive back to his place, both sharply attuned to the new dimension of their partnership. He’d become an expert at reading her moods from across a car’s center console. He knew when she was angry or tired or hungry. Now he knew how it felt to sit beside her and feel raw need emanating off of her. And he knew she sensed it from him as well.

He wants this to last forever, to live in an endless time loop of watching her perfect breasts bounce in sync with the rhythm of her hips and her face contorting in pleasure. He wants to take up permanent residence here and have all his mail forwarded in care of Dana Scully’s glistening, velvety vise of a vagina (although she’d certainly shoot him again if she heard him say anything of the sort out loud). But they’re both so close now and when she arches her pale belly toward him and reaches back to stroke the seam between his rigid balls, he lets go. Seven years of pent up desire rush out of him in desperate hot spurts. She comes in stride, squeezing him dry as her inner walls frantically contract in pleasure.

Once he feels all of her muscles surrounding him relax, he half-expects she’ll disappear like a phantom in the night, the delirium of a love-starved man. She lifts up her hips and rolls over next to him. With her chest flush against his side he can feel the hammering of her heart. Alive, alive, alive is all he hears with each beat. He’s come too close to losing her too many times. The simple mechanism of blood pumping through her body is a holy sound to him. A prayer, an incantation, a vow.

“Let’s get married,” he says, testing his luck.

He suspects she’ll blame it on the painkillers, the orgasm-induced euphoria, the sudden rush of blood away from his brain, but instead she says, “Okay.” Her voice is quiet yet resolute and he questions if he’s been propelled into an alternate reality.

“Okay?” he asks, turning to her and squinting in disbelief.

“That surprises you?”

“Scully, I’ve seen you take more time deciding what you want from a vending machine.”

She shrugs. “You’re my best friend. The only person I’d want to spend every day of my life with. We’ve already made it through the sickness and health part more times than I’d like to count. And we love each other.”

She ticks off the reasons with the same confidence she’d use to explain why a pair of tracks in the woods couldn’t possibly belong to a sasquatch. She loves him. In the first two hours of the new millennium Dana Scully has kissed him, fucked him, and said she loved him. Now he’s even less sure he isn’t hallucinating.

“You know we can’t…really…” he trails off, feeling the heft of reality settle back over him like a dark cloud heavy with rain.

“I know,” she says. She bites her lips and glances down. “But we can be married in all the ways that count.”

“You don’t want a big church wedding? A cake with fondant flowers? A taffeta gown?”

“Taffeta, Mulder? Really?” she smirks.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” he says. “I haven’t been to a wedding in at least a decade. I suppose bridal fashion has evolved.”

“Clearly.” She smiles. “But I’m serious. Marriage is a union based on love, companionship, and trust. We have all of that. I don’t care about the window dressings.”

“We’ve even consummated that union,” he says, trailing his fingertips along her upper arm.

“Yes, we have,” she responds. She rests her palm on the flat of his abdomen just below his t-shirt hem. “For what, I hope, will be the first of many, many times.”

“Wait ‘til you see what I can do with two hands.”

“You were married before,” she says, somewhere on an empty stretch of highway. Of course she brings it up when he’s stuck behind the wheel and can’t escape.

“How did you—”

“The Gunmen told me.” She’s staring shyly at her hands. It’s the first time they’re speaking about Diana since her death.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Scully. I should’ve told you. But it only lasted a few months. I was young and stupid. I convinced her to go down to the courthouse mostly because I was terrified she would leave me. Not that it made a difference. I only told my parents after she fled to Berlin and I needed help from their lawyers to get an annulment. They were scared she’d try to get a big settlement, but I just wanted to forget about it.”

“It’s okay,” she says, still examining her lap and not looking at him. “We met as adults. We’ve been in serious relationships before. There’s no reason to be ashamed.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Honestly,” she turns to face him now. “Not as much as I thought it would.”

“Scully, what we have is so much more—” he pauses to find the words but comes up short.

“I know,” she says, bringing her hand to rest on his thigh. “I know.”

After a few miles of silence she asks slyly, the corners of her mouth arcing into a smile, “Did she wear taffeta?”

“I don’t remember,” he says, and it’s true. An eidetic memory and you’d think he’d remember what his bride wore on what was supposed to be the most important day of his life, but he draws a blank. All he can picture is staring at the gold band she slipped on his finger and trying to convince himself it meant he’d never be alone again.

She has to know he’s up to something when he starts applying his Socratic style to global wedding traditions instead of astral projection or lizard-eyed cryptids.

“Did you know the bouquet toss originated in medieval times and was meant to serve as a distraction so the bride and groom could slip off to their private chambers unnoticed after the ceremony?” He asks her on an airplane on the way back from Chicago.

“I know my cousin Nora once elbowed Missy in the gut to push her out of the way so she could catch one.”

“Ouch,” he winces. “How’d that work out for Nora?”

“She actually did get married the following year to some guy she met on a singles’ cruise. Last I heard, though, he ran away with his secretary and left her with reams of credit card debt,” she says. “And he went bald.”

“You win some, you lose some,” he says. “Did you know wedding rings are traditionally worn on the fourth finger because of the belief that a vein in that finger ran directly to the heart?”

“Well, that’s just inaccurate,” she asserts with a smug smile.

“Did you know that Congolese newlyweds aren’t allowed to smile for the entirety of their wedding day? Or that brides in ancient Rome used to paint their faces red?”

“I did not,” she says, scooting closer to him.

“In the Chinese Yugur culture, the groom shoots his bride with three headless arrows before the ceremony then breaks the arrows in half to symbolize unbroken love.”

“I already shot you once, I don’t think you need to return the favor.”

He playfully reaches for his shoulder and winks at her. “Jews, of course, break a glass for the same reason, while the Greeks smash plates. Did your parents do the whole full Catholic mass hoopla?”

She shakes her head. “My father’s commanding officer married them on base in Norfolk. We pretend not to do the math, but it was only six months before Bill was born.”

Mulder whistles. “Oh, Maggie. Remind me to thank her again the next time I see her.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For you.”

“What about your parents?” She asks.

“Oh, the Kuipers-Mulder wedding was the social event of the summer of ‘59. I think some distant Kennedy cousin even showed up. My mother’s parents didn’t like that he was nearly two decades older than her, and my father’s parents didn’t like that she was Jewish but they had enough money to throw a nice party so it all evened out. Not that any of that pomp and circumstance did them any good when the shit hit the fan.”

“And yet you still believe in marriage,” she ponders.

“I believe in marrying you.”

Even though they have a row to themselves on the plane and everyone around them seems to be asleep or absorbed in a book, he’s still surprised when she leans over to kiss him on the lips. It’s a quick, close-mouthed peck but still more than she’d typically allow in public. They interlock their fingers under the arm rest and he wonders what he ever did to deserve her.

They’re curled toward each other on the motel bed like a pair of parentheses, too wired to sleep. He tells her about seeing the spirit of his sister in a field of dead children. She kisses his brow and pulls his head into her chest. She thankfully doesn’t suggest his vision is the result of a mind warped by grief and stress. The silk collar of her pajama top darkens with his tears and she holds him closer. He’s been cold for so long and her touch is thawing him.

He first told her about his sister in a motel room not unlike this one. Even then, Samantha had already been dead. She’d already been dead when Scully embraced his quest as her own. She’d already been dead when Scully was abducted, when Scully lost her chance at motherhood, when Scully nearly died in a hospital bed from a cancer that had been given to her. He finds it’s this that stings the most—that he made her suffer for nothing.

“She’s been gone this whole time,” he whispers into the hollow of her throat.

“I’m so sorry, Mulder.” She presses her warm lips to the crown of his head, her words muffled in his hair.

It’s been a long day and he can smell her skin and sweat through faded layers of powdery deodorant and woodsy perfume. He likes that she chooses to smell like a forest and not a flower. He likes her natural scent even more.

He’s an orphan now. The last of his kind. And yet, cradled in her arms, this moment feels like a beginning and not an ending. The ties that held him to this earth have been severed and it’s only her firm grasp that’s keeping him from floating away.

“Be my family, Scully,” he says, raising his head up to the pillow so he can meet her gaze.

“Always,” she swears. Her lower lip is quivering and her eyelids are heavy. New tendrils extend, stretching between them, twisting around and around each other, serpentine. They’re interwoven and he never wants to break away. He can stand to lose anything except her.

He kisses her lips softly and feels her starting to cry. Tears stream down their cheeks and it’s impossible to tell which are hers and which are his. She is his home and everything about her feels right. Deepening the kiss, he rolls on top of her.

She brings one small hand to his chest to stop him. “Are you sure, Mulder?”

She asked him the same question in his apartment after autopsying his mother. That night he was seeking numbness and she, rightfully so, wouldn’t give it to him. She bore witness to his pain, holding him as he wept and slipped into a fitful sleep. Tonight, though, he is sure. He’s coming to her purely out of love, to rededicate himself to her.

He nods solemnly and she brings her hands to either side of his face, pulling him in so she can probe his mouth with her tongue. The taste of diner coffee lingers under the artificial mint of her toothpaste.

He takes his time unbuttoning her pajama shirt, revealing the milky skin of her chest. Tracing a trail down the valley between her breasts with his tongue, he pauses at the scar on her abdomen. It’s a reminder of her fragility and her strength. He kisses it to pay tribute to the duality of her nature.

She gasps when he reaches the hem of her pajama bottoms. Lifting her hips up, she lets him ease the silk down her legs and slim ankles. Her presence feels so powerful and all-encompassing that he sometimes forgets how small her actual physical form is. Her feet are so delicate he can’t believe they have the endurance to carry her to crime scenes and autopsy bays and wherever he asks her to follow him. He kisses the arch of each one in gratitude and then lets her pajama pants drop to the floor.

As he works his way back up, she starts spreading her thighs apart in anticipation. He can feel the heat of her sex radiating on his face like the sun before he even reaches the space between her legs. He inhales deeply and takes in her intoxicating essence before dragging his tongue up from the folds of her labia to the nub of her clit. Her thighs tighten around him and she rakes her nails through his hair.

“Mulder,” she begs of him quietly, his name an invitation on her lips.

He answers by latching onto her sex with his mouth, sucking and releasing her clit with increasing speed and intensity. Breathing feels unnecessary when he’s devouring her like this. He can’t be sure if the swirl of dizziness in his head stems from a lack of oxygen or a surge of adrenaline. Either way, he doesn’t come up for air until he sees her clenching the sheets between her fists in his peripheral vision and hears the high-pitched whimper from the back of her throat that lets him know she’s close. He loves making her come this way, knowing he’s able to give her this much-needed release, but now she’s tugging on the sleeves of his t-shirt, pulling him up to meet her.

Rising to his knees, he sheds his shirt and peels off his boxers, freeing the erection that’s been throbbing to the beat of her moans. He pulls a pillow from the other side of the bed and slides it under her hips.

She reaches down between them, taking his length in her hand and confidently guiding him inside her. They’ve done this 12 times in his bed, nine times in hers, thrice on his couch, and now in their sixth motel room (the eidetic memory works when it counts) and yet each time feels like a new discovery.

Tonight feels endowed with a singular significance. He has finally laid his sister, and therefore his quest for her, to rest, and can give himself to Scully fully. The rules feel like loose suggestions now. Why not quit the bureau and run away with her? Why not stake his claim to her in the light of day and marry her in front of everyone they know?

But he’s getting ahead of himself. Right now, there is only this moment—only their bodies gliding together in this timeless dance. They are prehistoric cave dwellers mating on a pelt of wolf fur. They are medieval peasants copulating under the thatched roof of their cottage. They are federal agents making love on the polyester duvet of a budget motel room in Sacramento, California. Plunging into her, he knows he has loved her in every lifetime.

Their bodies find a rhythm that feels as natural as their age-old verbal tête-à-tête. Perhaps after all this time it shouldn’t be such a surprise that they’re so good at this.

“What?” she asks, breathily, and it tears him from his stream of consciousness.

“Hmm?”

“What are you smiling about?”

He must’ve had a shit-eating grin on his face by the way she’s staring at him. It makes him laugh and he collapses on top of her and chuckles into the side of her neck.

“I just can’t believe how lucky I am,” he whispers into her ear.

“We finally found something you don’t believe in,” she says.

He doesn’t know if he wants to smile or cry or keep thrusting into her. Somehow, he manages to do all three and soon they’re both coming hard and likely earning a noise complaint in the process. Fuck it, he thinks, let everyone hear.

After he slides out of her, they’re too mentally and physically exhausted to move so they stay lying atop the covers side by side. The window air conditioning unit kicks on, cooling the damp sweat that coats their skin. Feeling the goose pimples rise on her skin, he maneuvers them onto their sides so he can hold her from behind.

“I officiated a wedding for two of Sam’s Barbie dolls once,” he tells her. The scene surfaces from the hazy sea of his memory. It was months before her disappearance. They’d heard their parents fighting nearly every night that summer and he imagined Sam’s precocious mind grappling with the knowledge that marital bonds could be so brittle.

“Yeah?” she asks hesitantly.

He wants her to know that it’s alright, that talking about his sister feels lighter now.

“Well, I started anyway but I wasn’t taking it seriously so she made me stop and kicked me out of her room.”

“She couldn’t have asked for a better big brother,” she says. He wraps his arms around her and chooses to believe.

His lungs are mostly healed, although he isn’t cleared for active duty yet, when he insists they head back to North Carolina for a “personal mission” over the weekend. She doesn’t want him to risk flying so she agrees to let him pick her up early on Saturday morning for the long drive. They’re on the road before the sun rises.

“I know you’re feeling better, Mulder, but you’re really not up for anything too vigorous,” she says as he steers the car south.

“Well, it’s up to you how vigorous you plan on being on our wedding night.”

He looks over to find her eyebrows predictably raised.

“Open the glove compartment, Scully.”

He takes his eyes off the road just long enough to watch her remove the pamphlet for the Irish-themed bed and breakfast in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains and the braided ivory rope he’d sent away for.

“What is this, Mulder?” Her skeptical tone is replaced by a light, hopeful voice as she examines the rope.

“It’s for our handfasting ceremony.”

Looking over at her again, he sees even more questions in her eyes.

He doesn’t tell her he’s chosen this because their bond is so pure and elemental that he wants to marry her in a primeval fashion that transcends man and law and God; that he wants to tie his soul to hers like the stars are tethered to the sky; that he needs to know that even when their bodies have long decayed and reverted back to base matter, even when the sun has burned out and the universe has collapsed back within itself, that their essences will still be bound together.

He only shrugs and says, “It’s Celtic. Like your ancestors.”

Her smile breaks his heart wide open and he knows she understands.

“We missed May Day—you know, the feast of Beltane, the lusty month, and all of that—but Ewan says the old Neolithic hunter gatherers weren’t too picky about auspicious dates.”

“Ewan?”

“Byers’ cousin. He owns the B&B and does these things from time to time” he says. “But don’t worry, the other two Stooges don’t know anything. I didn’t want to hear Langly’s spiel about the evil capitalist roots of marriage—nor did I have the heart to let Frohike know you’re officially off the market.”

“I appreciate that,” she says with a toothy grin.

“I hope you’re not upset I sprung it on you like this,” he says.

“Oh, Mulder,” she sighs. “A pagan ceremony preceded by a mysterious seven-hour road trip with a 5 a.m. wakeup call is the only way I would ever expect to marry you. Truly, if you got down on one knee with a diamond ring after a candlelit dinner I’d probably immediately order a CT scan to check you for a cerebral hemorrhage.”

The old stone home that houses the B&B looks straight out of a fairy tale. It’s drizzling when they pull up and he starts humming a few bars of Alanis Morisette. She catches his eye and he winks at her.

“Rain is considered good luck in Italy and India,” he says.

He fetches their luggage from the trunk of the car and follows her inside. There’s no check-in desk, just a cozy living room with overstuffed floral furniture, a wood-burning fireplace, and Ewan waiting for them.

He’s only a little disappointed when Byers’ cousin turns out to be a gentle-looking older man dressed in a flannel shirt and hiking boots and not a bearded druid priest clad in white robes and a crown of antlers.

“Agents Mulder and Scully,” he says, shaking their hands. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you. John has told me so much about you. I’m honored to be a part of your sacred day. Why don’t I show you to your room and give you some time to freshen up before the ceremony?”

He leads them up a creaky flight of stairs to their room. It isn’t much larger than their standard roadside motel room but has far more character. A linen bedspread with Celtic knots woven in emerald thread covers the four-poster bed and there’s a wooden rocking chair in the corner that looks like it’d made the journey from the old country.

“Take your time,” Ewan says as he heads out. “You can meet me downstairs whenever you’re ready.”

After he closes the door behind him, Scully crosses the room to envelope Mulder in an embrace, resting her head under his chin.

“This is perfect,” she mumbles against the fabric of his sweater. “Thank you.”

They take turns using the bathroom and then head back downstairs. Ewan leads them through the B&B’s tidy eat-in kitchen and out the back door.

“Did any ancient mystics speak of the significance of a bride wearing jeans?” Scully whispers to Mulder as they follow Ewan to a clearing in the woods.

“I’m sure if any of them ever got a chance to see what your ass looked like in that pair, white dresses never would’ve made the cut.”

They’re walking hand-in-hand and she gently nudges his upper arm with her shoulder. After months of playing platonic in public, getting to touch her out in the open like this—even with the woods and John Byers’ cousin as their only witnesses—feels like taking a deep breath after being submerged underwater for too long.

“We’ve made it,” Ewan says, leading them to the center of a circle made from small stones. He guides them to stand face to face and take each other’s right hand.

Mulder recalls the first time they touched—shaking her hand on the morning she entered his office. He remembers her fresh-faced energy and how she met all his theories and hunches with fully formed counterarguments; how they improvised the steps of a dance that would become second nature over the years. Locking eyes over their hands, she smiles at him and he knows she’s reliving the same moment.

Despite whatever attempts she made to tame her hair into submission back in DC, the humidity and light drizzle in the woods bring out the soft frizz he loves to run his fingers through. He thinks of a downpour in an Oregon graveyard, the first time the peal of her laugh struck a chord in his soul.

He hands the rope over to Ewan who starts wrapping it around their linked hands and explaining the meaning of the ceremony. The words—commitment, love, intention—wash over him. He knows he could spend years studying the OED, the works of Byron or Neruda, and still never find a combination of letters that describe how much he loves the woman standing in front of him. For two people who rely on words to explain, argue, dispute, and affirm, they’re shockingly bad at expressing what they mean to one another using language. Or perhaps they’d reached as far as words could take them and only stumbled when they had to take the next step without any.

Ewan has looped the cord around their wrists and tied it in a string of nautical-looking knots that make Mulder wonder if Scully is reminded of her father. Ewan has them repeat a series of vows to each other. The words echo through their lips but Mulder knows they can only begin to encapsulate the commitment they’ve already made to each other. There’s no point in the ceremony where they’re instructed to kiss, but he does it anyway when Ewan stops speaking, leaning in to open her lips with his and feel the slick warmth of her mouth. Does it feel different now that they’re married (at least in some spiritual sense)? He isn’t sure, but he plans on conducting more experiments once they’re back in their room alone.

They break apart and Ewan looks up from the ground where he’d been staring in respectful silence.

“A first handfasting represents an engagement or a trial marriage. The ceremony is repeated in a year and a day to formalize the union,” Ewan says. “It’s tradition, I promise. Not just a way to stir up repeat business.”

“Well, same time next year, I suppose. Put us in the books,” Mulder says, looking down at their bound hands and then up at Scully’s wet eyes. She gives him the softest smile and a gentle laugh. A year, a day, and a millennium from now and, he knows, they will still be tied together.

They wear no rings. They sign no papers. Their union isn’t documented in any official records. By the time they get back inside and warm up with cups of coffee, the faint lines left on their wrists by the cord have faded. The interstitial fluid under the skin has redistributed itself, restoring equilibrium, but their internal balance has been forever recalibrated.

***

A year and a day passes. He dies and she brings him back to life. She gives birth to their son and then begs him to leave.

Their anniversary does not find him reunited with her in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains but alone in the desert of New Mexico. Of the few personal belongings he took when he fled, the one he holds most dear is the braided ivory rope she pressed into his hands on their last day together. I’ll bring it back, he vowed.

The cord is yellowed from the oils of his fingertips constantly worrying over it and the dust of the desert, but he holds it tighter on this day. He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to safely return to her and to William, but he intends to keep this promise.

#xfiles #txf #the x files #msr #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #x files

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gh0stsp1d3r · 1 year

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Hiii! Can I please request a Tangerine x fem!civilian/innocent reader where she is an innocent civilian that gets caught in the crossfire, but unlike the civilian when they were getting by the White Death’s son, they’re able to save her life. But as they’re driving off with a very terrified Y/n, they realize that she has seen their faces and she sort of becomes an accidental hostage. Tan is really soft with her though. As time passes Tan realizes he has fallen in love with her and feels bad, so he lets her go, BUT Y/n ends up not wanting to leave because she has fallen in love with him too, so she stays🥺

Hostage

-dark! Tangerine and lemon, probably ooc but who cares, idk if this counts as Stockholm syndrome

Tangerine started to walk, and then stopped as he saw you sleeping against the glass. What the fuck was a normal civilian still doing here?

“Hey. Wake up.” He said, and shook your shoulders.

You groaned and woke up, looking up and seeing a man.

In all the chaos, how didn’t you wake up?

“Who the fuck are you?” You asked him.

“Tangerine. Look-“ he started but stopped, as the train crashed into another.

He quickly grabbed onto you, thinking that he couldn’t just let some normal person die. He held onto you tightly, and after a little bit you passed out. Tangerine held onto you as you guys fell into the water, along with Lemon and some other guy who lemon killed quickly.

“Who the fuck is that?!” Lemon asked, gesturing to the person tangerine was carrying.

“Some random person, the last one on the train. Can’t leave a regular civilian to die.” He shrugged and put you on the ground, he sat down and sighed heavily.

“How the hell is she not dead?” Lemon asked and sat next to him.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask them?” Tangerine muttered and scoffed, looking for a car or vehicle.

“Seriously?” He said when lemon pulled up in a Tangerine decorated truck.

“Hell yes I’m serious. Get in.” He said.

“Oh fuck.. wait. We just gonna leave her here? She’s seen my face, and she can go to the authorities.”

“That’s true. Your porn-stache is very distinguishable.” Lemon said, while thinking.

“Oh, fuck off. What do we do now?” He asked.

“I guess.. we could let her go.”

“Yeah, but then she’s gonna go tell everyone and then we’re gonna be in a jail cell, do you wanna be in a jail cell?!”

Lemon sighed “Do whatever you think is best, I guess.”

“I did not sign up for this.” He mumbled as he dragged you into the back, tied up with a taped mouth.

As soon as you woke up, you tried to scream. Then you realized, your mouth was taped so you couldn’t.

They both realized that you had waken up when they heard something in the back.

Lemon gave tangerine a look, and tangerine just rolled his eyes at him.

“Keep your eyes on the road.” He said.

“So where the fuck we going now?”

Tangerine sighed “We cant drive back to London, obviously. We might just have to catch a plane.”

“How the hell are we gonna- Y’Know, never mind. Let’s just find a hotel for a little bit and then we can think.” Lemon muttered, and tried to find somewhere to stay.

Finally, after a little bit, lemon had finally found a place. It was small, but he wasn’t trying to waste all his money.

“I’ll get her.” Tangerine sighed, baking his head and entering the back.

You tried to scream again, as you sat up in the back.

“Look, sorry about all this. But uh, you did see our faces and the minute we let you go you’ll run away and tell someone. Can’t risk that.” He sighed, taking the tape off your mouth and waiting for lemon to come back and say he got it.

“Let me go!” You shouted, he covered your mouth as you tried to fight against it.

“Look, after a while, we’ll probably let you go. We’re not gonna kill you or anything unless we fuckin’ need to, got it?”

You weren’t paying much attention, as you still tried to scream. He sighed and hung his head in defeat.

“Got it. Come on out.” Lemon said.

“Coming.”

“Say one word to anyone, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” Tangerine whispered, although it was a lie. Having an innocent person killed would make him feel guilty. Lemon just rolled his eyes at the lie. In reality, he was a big fucking softie. And he knew that he wasn’t just going to kill some innocent person, on purpose at least.

He untied you, grabbing you hand as Lemon unlocked it.

“It’s got two rooms, you two can figure that shit out, me, I’m going to sleep.” Lemon said, and immediately went into a room and taking off his pants and shirt, then hopping into the bed.

“Alright then… c’mon.” He said, pulling your hand.

“You need anything to eat or drink?” He asked. But you didn’t answer.

“I will take that as a no.” He mumbled, and tied you up to the bed frame.

“Okay.. then, I had a long fucking day, so I’m going to sleep. I’m trusting you to not do anything.” He narrowed his eyes at you, and got into his bed, but took off only his shirt, since you were there.

You would admit, you were staring. He looked like he belonged in a museum- wait, what? You could not be thinking about your kidnapper like that. You shook those thoughts away- or tried to at least. But it was true.

He fell asleep quickly, and you almost thought of ways to escape. But then you remembered what he had said.

“Say one word to anyone, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

You frowned, and tried to at least get comfortable on the floor, you shifted to a position that was somewhat comfortable and sat there.

You decided that you weren’t going to escape any time soon, and decided to just go to sleep, maybe this was all a bad dream.

✢✢✢✢✢

But it wasn’t, because when you woke up, you saw the man, the one with the mustache. You didn’t actually know their names, and you didn’t try learning.

“Morning.” Was all he said, as he glanced back at you. He brushed his teeth, and then he sighed and looked at you after.

“You know, you have to eat.” He said, and looking at the plate next to you.

“I can’t, my hands are tied.” You said, rolling your eyes at the man.

“Guess I forgot about that.” He sighed, and sat down in front of you. He picked the fork up, and he looked slightly annoyed but again, he was the one kidnapping you.

He fed you, slowly, like as if you were a child. You had to eat though, because even if you didn’t admit it you were fucking starving.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, as he got up and took the palate, he put it on a counter.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He muttered and left the room again.

Lemon started to deny his brothers thought about it.

“Look, why don’t you just let her go?” Lemon asked, as he sat in the living room. It was surprisingly modern, but the style was very minimalistic.

“I can’t. Unlike you, I don’t wanna end up in jail.” He rolled his eyes.

“Well we have to go to our own homes eventually, then what the hell you gonna do?”

“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t bloody know!” Tangerine said, and went back in the room.

He groaned and sat on the bed, thinking. He put his face in his hands, irritated.

He looked down at you, sighing.

He untied your wrists, you didn’t get up though, and you just held your wrists, rubbing them.

“You can go.” He said.

You stayed quiet for a moment “Where are we exactly?”

“Kyoto.” He said.

“I don’t really know how to get from here back to where I live..” you said quietly.

Tangerine sighed, slightly in annoyance.

“Look, lady-“

“Do I have to go?”

He was taken aback at your question, shocked. He looked at you confused.

“Why would you not want to..?”

“Because.. just because.”

He just sighed “I guess..it would be fine by me. Don’t know about my brother though-“

“I don’t care about what he thinks.”

#tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train #bullet train x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson x reader #lemon and tangerine

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