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joelscurls · 4 months

Text

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out.

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do.

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter.

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that—

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right.

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship?

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating.

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend.

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds.

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool.

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash.

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down.

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking.

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie. His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him.

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need.

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically.

“Ah — that’s alright.”

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him?

But then you think of Frankie inside — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly.

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too.

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff.

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?”

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes.

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks.

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone.

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink.

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline.

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers.

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again.

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke.

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver.

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion.

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all.

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming.

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans.

“Hey,” you announce.

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm.

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other.

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…”

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades.

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of.

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod.

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively.

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers.

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct.

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it.

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally.

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed.

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh.

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway.

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker.

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss.

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past.

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.”

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis.

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat.

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies.

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you.

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton.

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand.

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you.

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest.

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want.

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?”

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls.

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant.

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside.

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium.

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below.

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again.

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

“So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away.

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky.

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin.

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact.

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.”

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right.

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist.

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.”

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

#Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x reader #Frankie Morales x f!reader #Frankie Morales x female reader #Frankie Morales fic #Frankie Morales smut #Frankie Morales fanfiction #Triple Frontier #Triple Frontier fic #Triple Frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut

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perotovar · 6 months

Text

into the beat of the night (ch 4) "thin flesh"

moodboard by me

pairing: frankie morales/enby!oc!river price (they/them) rating: 18+ (minors dni) chapter warnings: swearing, (1) instance of misgendering (not by anyone we like), unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, brief oral (m receiving), discussions of contraceptives, this shit is sappy y'all, there's a cat too word count: 5.5k dividers by @saradika-graphics beta: @scenaaario (ily adrienne ♥)

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series summary: frankie thought he had himself figured out by now. he liked both men and women, had dated both in the past. but when someone that challenges what he thinks that means comes into his life, in an unlikely place, he truly learns who he is, and more importantly, who he loves.

series masterlist

River moaned, tangling their fingers into Frankie’s curls. “F-Frankie, my lunch is only thirty minutes,” they giggled, biting their lip.

“Don’t care,” Frankie grunted, digging his thumbs into their hips and continued sucking on their neck. He hummed happily, kissing up the side of their neck to nibble on their jaw playfully.

Frankie had stopped by the building where River worked with lunch. It was now getting cold.

River had to push Frankie away, a slightly dazed look on their face. They smiled up at him and poked his cheek. “And you call me the menace. I touch your dick one time and you become insatiable.”

Frankie laughed, his shoulders shaking. He leaned over and kissed their cheek before relaxing back in his seat. “Sorry, your food is probably cold now,” he mumbled, handing the takeout bag to them.

River shrugged and began eating. “So, we’re meeting up with Will, Benny, and…”

“Santiago.”

“Santiago. Tonight, right?”

“Yeah, if you still want to,” Frankie nodded jerkily. This was the first time he was introducing River to the guys. He was mostly nervous about Benny opening his big, golden retriever mouth and asking dumb questions. He knew at least Will and Santi would be normal, if a bit protective.

“Of course I still want to,” River said, swallowing a bite of food. “They’re like brothers to you. I can only imagine the shit you guys have seen together,” they muttered sympathetically.

A far-away look crossed Frankie’s features and he swallowed around a small lump in his throat. River reached over and held Frankie’s hand, rubbing their thumb over his knuckles.

“Sorry, we can talk about something else,” they said softly.

Frankie smiled weakly and shook his head. “It’s okay,” he looked up into their eyes. They reminded him of leaves in a summer downpour. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” River had to go, finishing up the food Frankie brought for them. “I’ll text you when I get off work, okay?”

Frankie nodded and leaned over to kiss their cheek. He kissed their lips once, then again. “I’ll pick you up at eight.” River winked, climbing out of Frankie’s truck and making their way back into the tall building.

Frankie exhaled loudly and started the truck. The prospect of telling River about his past, about his addiction, made him incredibly nervous. He had been clean for a long time now, but it didn’t make the conversation less daunting. River hadn’t turned him away yet, but he also didn't know their hard limits. Despite feeling more comfortable with River than he had with anyone in a long time, it was still so new.

He pulled into the parking lot of Marisol’s daycare and sat idling, waiting to go inside and pick her up. He looked down at his phone and smiled at his lockscreen; it was a photo of River with their tongue sticking out, piercing on full display, and flipping the bird. He took another deep breath and rolled down the window for some fresh air. It would be okay.

It would.

“It’s a music based subculture, Benny. The fashion came later.”

Benny shook his head as he swallowed his beer. “Then why have I never heard of a ‘goth band’ then?”

“Because you probably listen to butt rock.”

Benny spluttered, offended, but laughed. “What is that?”

Frankie, River, and Santi laughed as Will rubbed Benny’s shoulders sympathetically. Things were going really well. Better than Frankie expected them to go, if he were being honest. It felt like River had always been a part of the group.

“I haven’t heard a denial yet,” River teased in a sing-song tone, a twinkle in their eye. Everyone laughed harder as Benny raised his arms in defeat. “Speaking of, did Frankie tell you guys what he wore when we went back to The Night Owl?”

“Oh, god, here we go,” Frankie groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

“An Iron Maiden t-shirt, which was already funny on its own. But he also wore these blue and yellow New Balances and I won’t lie, I almost ghosted him for it.” River winked at him as they squeezed his thigh under the table.

Benny was laughing so hard his face went red and Will shook his head in disappointment. Santiago sighed and put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “You wore your New Balances to a goth club? Hermano…”

“I don’t have any clothes that would fit there, okay?” Frankie explained, exasperated. He turned to River and gave them his best pout and puppy dog eyes, whispering, “Besides, I thought you liked my ‘lumberjack, fisherman chic’?”

River looked to Frankie’s lips briefly and licked their own before looking back up into his eyes. “True, I do. Wouldn’t change it for the world. But,” they grinned. “I would love to see you all ‘done up’ one of these days. Just for fun.”

Benny was nearly having a stroke at this point. “Oh, my god. I’m trying to imagine Fish with eyeliner and it’s killing me,” he wheezed.

Frankie laughed and shrugged, putting an arm around River’s shoulders. “We’ll see,” he hummed, leaning over to kiss River’s cheek.

Will chuckled and rolled his eyes before standing. “Another round? On me, this time.”

Everyone nodded their thanks, and fell back into easy conversation. Out of the corner of River’s eye, they saw someone nearby that could be a problem. The man had been staring at River all night, and not in a way they could ignore. River sighed quietly and prepared themselves as the man stood and tried to “subtly'' make his way over to the table.

“Damn, when’s the funeral?” The drunken asshole smirked, looking right at River. He sneered at them and waited for River to react.

“Hey, fuck off, asshole—“

“Benny, don’t,” River muttered, giving him a look that said more than their words ever would. Benny went quiet but looked at the guy with daggers for eyes. Santiago crossed his arms over his chest and watched for River’s signal.

“Haven’t decided yet,” they exhaled angrily toward the drunk.

“Listen, lady, I was just—“ River rolled their eyes and stared at the man. Frankie’s eyes went wide and he saw red. River quickly grabbed Frankie’s thigh again and squeezed, stopping him. Their expression changed from neutral to manic, an unsettling smile spreading across their face. They tilted their head to the side and stared, unblinking. The man shuffled uneasily on his feet and scoffed. “Whatever, fuckin’ freak.”

The man stumbled away just as Will returned with all their drinks. He looked at the group of grumpy faces and the guy walking away. “What happened?”

Benny’s face broke into a wide grin and he started snapping his fingers. “River just scared a dude,” he laughed.

River rolled their eyes, but smiled this time. “No, the guy came over and tried to be clever and I shut it down,” they shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” They gestured to their wardrobe by way of explanation.

Frankie went quiet and had a pensive look on his face, rubbing River’s lower back. He knew River picked up on the drunk calling them “lady”, because he knows he heard it. Will had given River a fist bump and everything went back to normal. He’ll bring it up later.

“Okay, so I know Fish went and it was an accident, but like, do you think I could go to The Night Owl?” Benny smiled wide, that golden retriever energy back in droves. “I’ve never been to a goth club and it sounds fun.”

River gave Benny a long look, thinking about it. “I don’t see why not,” they hummed thoughtfully. “I just have one question for you.”

Benny blinked and nodded, letting River continue.

“Are you sure you’re a hundred percent straight? Because you would be a hit there, and not just with the ladies.”

Everyone went quiet for a second before bursting into laughter. Frankie laughed quieter than the others and shook his head. He looked at River lovingly, taking in the features of their side profile and lips.

“Is this why you asked if I listened to butt rock?” Benny asked, incredulous. “I still don’t know what that means!!”

They were quiet on the drive to River’s apartment. River looked over at Frankie, worry etched onto their features. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Frankie glanced at River before looking back at the road. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said softly. “I’m honestly more worried about you.”

River blinked. “How come? I’m fine. I had a really good time.”

“The guy?” Frankie asked, not wanting them to bury what happened. “He called you–”

“I know what he called me, Frankie.”

Frankie frowned and bit his lip. He didn’t want to step on River’s toes with this, but he was so ready to beat the shit out of the guy back there before they stopped him. “I’m sorry, I just… I know you can handle yourself, but,” he floundered for the right words, sighing in frustration when he couldn’t find them. “I just… I’m here, okay? You don’t have to like, deal with disrespect like that while I’m with you. Especially if it’s to like, impress my friends or something.”

River went quiet and smiled sadly, looking down at their painted nails. “I know,” they hummed softly. “Thank you. Same goes for you. I may not know all the details right now, and I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready, but I’m not blind, babe. I know you’ve got demons, too.”

Frankie reached for River’s hand and laced their fingers together as he pulled up to their apartment complex. He lifted their hand to his mouth and kissed their knuckles reverently.

“Go ahead and park.”

He raised a brow and did as he was told, turning his truck off. He looked across the darkened cab at River, a curtain of hair obscuring their features before they turned their head. “What’s up?” he asked softly.

“You wanna come up?” They gestured towards their apartment with their thumb, a shy smile on their face.

Frankie’s heart skipped a beat and he nodded, undoing his seatbelt. He followed them up the steps and waited patiently while River unlocked the door. “It’s not much, but it’s home,” they sighed. River’s voice was immediately followed by a loud scratchy meow. “Aww, hi, baby,” they grinned, crouching down to pick up what was probably the fluffiest gray cat Frankie had ever seen. “You’re not allergic are you?” They asked, a look of worry crossing their features, realizing they forgot to mention that they had a cat.

Frankie snorted and shook his head, holding his finger out for the cat to assess him.

River sighed in relief and kicked the door shut behind him. “Good,” they smiled. “This is Jonsey.”

“Alien?” Frankie grinned.

“Yes! Ugh, thank you!”

He laughed as Jonsey leapt out of River’s arms and went, presumably, towards his food. “How come you always look so spotless? Doesn’t he shed a lot?”

“Ohhh yeah,” River laughed. “I have travel-size lint rollers on me at all times.”

They both laughed before they got quiet, taking each other in. Frankie shoved his hands in his pockets and decided to look around.

“Wine?” River asked, walking toward the kitchen.

“Sure. Thank you.”

He really wasn’t sure what he expected River’s apartment to look like, but if he had to guess, he thinks it’d look exactly like this. Dark wood furniture with gray accents. There were plants everywhere; spilling over window sills and winding up bookshelves, lush and full of life.

“You can have a seat, y’know,” River chuckled, handing him a wine glass. They started walking around the living room and lighting a couple candles to further warm up the place.

Frankie obliged and had a seat on River’s couch, getting comfy. He left his arms open and River immediately took the invitation, cuddling close. They drank their wine in silence for a few minutes before Frankie spoke.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” he started, rubbing the thumb from his free hand against their arm. “I may not understand all the nuances of your gender and what comes with it, but I want to. I really like you, River, and… I wanna be there for you.”

Turning slightly, River made eye contact before setting their wine glass on the coffee table. Frankie did the same with his own. “I’m not sure what I did to deserve you coming into my life like this, but I really appreciate it,” they grinned. Their lips pressed against his tenderly. “You’re taking all of this incredibly well. Most cis guys get so threatened by… this,” they gestured to their body. “Usually why I date women,” they chuckled.

Frankie smiled, heart fluttering. “I’m not sure what it is either. I just felt a pull,” he shrugged. “And you’re right. I haven’t been totally honest about my past yet, but… I will. I promise. You deserve to know.”

Climbing into Frankie’s lap, River held his face to kiss him with more purpose. He melted into it, keeping his hands on their sides. Frankie closed his eyes,the scent of River’s cologne washing over him. Color bloomed across his eyelids, the earthy tones of sandalwood and the deep red of the wine on their lips.

Coming up for air, River breathed against his lips, “You don’t have Marisol this week do you? You don’t need to be home?”

“No, I dropped her off at her mom’s earlier,” Frankie sighed, scratching lightly at River’s lower back, making them shiver.

“Do you want to take me to bed, Francisco?”

Frankie’s whole body shuddered and he felt time stop. Pools of green looked over his features like he’d hung the moon as River waited for his answer. Swallowing his nerves, a soft smile graced Frankie’s features. “Of course,” he whispered gently, because if he spoke any louder, he was sure the spell would be broken.

River’s face lit up, pink warming their cheeks. They leaned forward and attached their lips to his neck, nipping and sucking softly at the thick muscles there. “Bedroom is down the hall on the right,” they mumbled.

Frankie didn’t need to hear anything else as he stood. He held River by the ass as they laced their legs around his waist. He felt like he was in a trance as he made his way down the hall. He had convinced himself that he wouldn’t make it this far with them. Feeling around for the light switch in the dark, Frankie exhaled shakily as River sucked a mark into his shoulder. He gave up and walked slowly to their bed and set them down.

River leaned over and turned on the lamp next to the bed. A soft warm glow lit the room, illuminating each other well enough to continue. Frankie shuffled on his feet for a second, nerves suddenly hitting him.

“What’s wrong?” River asked softly, scooting toward the edge of the bed, and resting their hands on Frankie’s belt.

Frankie thought about it for a minute, biting his lip. “Is there anything I should know? Like,” he floundered for a second. “I don’t want to touch you in the wrong way or say the wrong thing.”

River swooned, and smiled up at him. “God, I know it’s the bare minimum but your concern and respect is so fucking hot,” they groaned, hiding their burning cheeks in his soft tummy.

Frankie’s chest puffed up a bit and he grinned down at them, running his fingers through their long hair. He moved it away from their face and cupped their cheek, rubbing his thumb along the bone there.

River pulled themselves together for a second to speak and cleared their throat. “I’m very cool with you touching me anywhere. I would very much like you inside me,” they smirked. Frankie choked on his own spit, cock twitching in his jeans. They slowly unbuckled Frankie’s jeans and looked at the throbbing, red, and leaking tip of Frankie’s cock. “No underwear, huh?” They hummed, delighted at the sight, and started pumping it slowly, giving the head little kitten licks.

“F-Fuck,” Frankie moaned shakily, tipping his head back. He felt his entire body shiver as their tongue piercing dragged over the tip, the colors behind his eyelids returning. He tightened the fist in River’s hair and tugged slightly, making them moan around his cock. They started bobbing their head slowly, looking up at him. Frankie couldn’t look away from the mouth around him and he groaned, his cock twitching inside their mouth.

He pulled them off, a trail of saliva connecting River’s bottom lip to the head of his cock. “Babe, stop,” he chuckled breathily. “This is going to be done so fast if you keep that up.”

River’s eyes twinkled. “‘Babe’, huh?” They teased, tugging his pants down so he could step out of them. “And what, can’t last longer than five minutes?”

Growling, Frankie pushed them down onto their back on the bed. He hovered over them, one knee on the bed next to them. “Not around you,” he smirked, thick fingers methodically unbuttoning River’s shirt and yanking it off their shoulders.

His breath caught at the sight of their tattoos, but he slowed down when their top surgery scars came into view. He tentatively ran his fingertips along the scars, everything really hitting him all at once.

River watched his face, their stomach fluttering with nerves, but also excitement. They’d gotten to this point with others before and it was enough to turn people away. They didn’t think that would happen with Frankie, but they could never be too sure. Their cheeks warmed the longer he looked at them.

“Please say something,” River whispered anxiously.

“Where do I start?” Frankie breathed, smiling softly. “This looks like it really hurt,” he hummed sadly. “But it’s so beautiful.” His voice shook with reverence. He looked up at them, face full of emotion. “Lie back for me?”

River’s entire body was buzzing as they put a pillow underneath their head to look down at him. The fabric of their dress pants glided across their skin as Frankie removed the rest of their clothes. He hummed happily at the damp spot on the front of their underwear, kissing from one knee to the top of their thigh. River exhaled shakily, and bit their lip, taking in the sight of the mass of curls between their legs. Unable to resist, they reached forward and carded their fingers through his hair.

Frankie looked up at them, his big brown eyes shining as he kissed their clit through the fabric. River’s breath hitched and they giggled softly, lifting one leg to poke his shoulder with their toes. He winked and moved the last piece of clothing down their legs. He didn’t waste any time and latched his mouth onto their clit and sucked hard.

River moaned out loud, their back arching off the bed. “F-Frankie,” they whined, tugging on his curls.

Frankie was in his own world, creating a rhythm with his tongue, and the sounds coming from River’s mouth clogging his senses. He felt drunk, prodding two fingers at their entrance.

“Y-yes, please,” they breathed weakly, giving him permission.

Frankie ached to bring them pleasure as his fingers sunk in, quickly finding a pace to pump inside. He found a rhythm between his tongue and his fingers, and apparently it was doing something, if the sounds River was making were anything to go by.

River’s thighs trembled around his head, their entire body covered in goosebumps. Frankie looked up at them and lifted his mouth off of their clit, but his fingers never let up. River groaned out an exhale as they made eye contact and bit their lip. Something passed between them without words because when Frankie’s thumb touched their clit at the right pressure and rhythm, River’s eyes rolled back. They let out a loud moan into the room as they stilled, coming hard and wet around Frankie’s fingers.

Frankie grinned, watching River writhe around on the bed for a moment before coming down. “Very good,” he hummed, removing his fingers slowly and wrapping his lips around them. He groaned at the taste of them. He held onto their thighs before burying his tongue inside them once again. His aquiline nose rubbed perfectly against their clit while he lapped up more of them, hardly giving them a moment to breathe.

“Frankie, f-fuck, wait,” River gasped, their head spinning with want. Their clit throbbed in overstimulation, still so sensitive from their high.

Frankie grunted into their pussy and looked up at them like they’d just interrupted his favorite meal. And, really, they had. River’s breath hitched at the look in Frankie’s eyes. His normally soft eyes had turned hard, feral, and they dripped at how turned on it made them. He shook his head against them, moving from side to side, his curls bouncing at the movement.

“God, fuck,” River moaned pathetically, their heart rate going at a pace they hadn’t felt before.

“Gimme one more, baby,” Frankie mumbled against them. “Just one more, sweet thing. Gotta taste it this time.”

River’s eyes rolled back and they whined, nearly yanking on Frankie’s hair. His voice sounded as wrecked as they felt, all throaty and deep. Their walls clenched tightly around his tongue in little pulses the closer they got to their release. Frankie watched closely, his vision blurring slightly at the edges with the amount of focus he had on River’s form. He paid rapt attention to which movements of his tongue made them squirm. Their chest stuttered with every breath they took, the muscles and tendons in their neck moving underneath the skin tightly.

When River came, it was more intense than the first time and came in waves, making them nearly shout in pleasure. Frankie tried holding their hips down with those big hands of his but ended up following their movements so as not to miss a single drop. His eyes were on them the whole time, taking in the sight of them at their highest peak.

River trembled in the aftershocks as Frankie’s mouth finally let go. He kissed along the bottom of their tummy and left little nips and marks, sucking and staking his claim over them. River grinned lazily at the sight, their heart soaring. “Mmm, you’re good at that,” River chuckled, feeling all warm and satisfied.

Frankie grinned as he crawled onto the bed to hover over them. “Thank you,” he smirked, a smidge of arrogance coloring his features.

River laughed softly and rolled their eyes. They gripped the bottom of his t-shirt and lifted it over his head. “How are you still wearing your shirt, but no pants or underwear?” They snorted.

Frankie’s eyes darkened as he took in their flushed cheeks and moved their long hair behind their ears. “I was a little distracted,” he whispered, kissing them sensually.

River sighed happily, getting lost in the taste of themselves on his tongue. They ran their hands down his torso to grip onto Frankie’s ass and squeezed. They wrapped their legs around his waist and quickly flipped them over before Frankie had time to react. Now straddling him, they ground their hips against Frankie’s cock situated perfectly between their lips. “My turn,” River hummed, latching onto Frankie’s nipple.

Frankie gasped at all the sensations as his hips bucked up against them. “W-wait, do you have a condom? I’m clean, I just wanna make sure,” he smiled, rubbing their arms protectively.

“I do,” they nodded, nipping around the other nipple as they looked up at him. “We can use one if you want, but I am on PrEP, too. Also, uh,” they lifted their mouth off of him, sitting comfortably. “I can’t get pregnant. That’s the other major surgery I had.”

“Oh.”

They got quiet as they watched each other breathe heavily for a bit. “Is… Is that okay?” River asked hesitantly.

Frankie’s face went through every emotion imaginable within seconds before landing on nearly feral. “You… really shouldn’t have told me that,” he grinned wickedly, grabbing onto their hips and digging his fingernails in hard. River stopped him before he could turn them over and started grinding against the underside of his cock again, getting it impossibly wet.

“Oh, nu-uh,” River smirked. “You’re not in charge right now.”

Frankie’s cock twitched at the authority in their voice and he nodded obediently.

“Good boy,” they hummed, their fingers curling around his shaft before slowly sinking down on him. River whimpered slightly at the stretch and swirled their hips in little circles on the way down before they were sat on his lap comfortably. They groaned in satisfaction, slowly getting used to his girth and the weight of him.

Breathing heavily, Frankie shut his eyes and dug his head into the pillow underneath him. He focused on the sounds around him so he wouldn’t come right away; the slightly opened window brought in a nice breeze that cooled his flushed skin. River was breathing heavily, but quietly, watching patiently as he evened out his breathing. Blunt nails scratched lightly at Frankie’s torso, goosebumps following in their wake.

It had been a while since he’d been inside someone and it’s clear that it’s been a while for River as well considering just how god damn tight the fit was.

“You okay?” River grinned, rolling their hips slightly, already used to the feeling. They clenched around him teasingly in little pulses.

Frankie’s breath hitched and he groaned, desperately gripping their hips. He was certain there would be marks leftover tomorrow. “Fuck, gimme a second,” he panted, eyes squeezed shut. River watched his Adam’s Apple bob a few times as he got his breathing back to normal, their heart pounding in their chest.

When Frankie raised his head again to look down at where the two of them met, he exhaled shakily. “Jesus,” he moaned, his eyes traveling up their torso until he landed on their face. His heart skipped a beat seeing the look on their face.

He hadn’t seen River so… vulnerable before. They always looked put together, not a hair out of place or any bit of makeup smeared. They looked beautiful; their hair a mess, and their makeup smudged. They looked calm, at peace. Satisfied. His hands slowly traveled up their side before his thumbs rubbed at the edges of their surgery scars.

“Ready?” River smiled softly, cupping his face with one hand and bracing themself on his chest with the other.

Frankie nodded and lifted his hips slightly, his words spoken without a sound; fuck me.

And they did.

Bouncing on him at a leisurely pace to start, River watched Frankie’s eyes glaze over with the pleasure he was feeling, his face slack and his swollen lips parted. Before either of them knew it, they were rocking together at a steady pace, their collective moans and groans and sighs of pleasure filling the room.

They were completely lost in one another, River’s head thrown back to expose their throat as they moaned loudly. Their brows dipped down in pleasure as they bit their lip. “God, you feel so fucking good,” they whined, slowly starting to lose their rhythm as they got closer to their peak.

Frankie moaned and sat up, latching his mouth onto their neck, hugging them close to his chest. He dug his feet into the mattress and started fucking up into them. River groaned, hiding their face in his neck. They whined and whimpered against his damp skin, trembling on top of him.

The light slap, slap, slap of their skin against each other was the only sound in the room for a moment before Frankie panted against their forehead, kissing there softly. “More?” he smiled, eyes shut in bliss.

River nodded and whined weakly. “S-so fucking close.”

Frankie grunted as he flipped them over, well and truly fucking into them now. He didn’t let up, moaning when River’s nails clawed into Frankie’s back. He hissed at the sting and shivered all over, his hips slowly losing their rhythm. “Touch yourself, sweet thing,” Frankie breathed, watching their blissed out expression change to a look of focus. River reached between them and started rubbing at their clit at the same pace as Frankie’s hips.

River whined weakly, half-lidded and glossy eyes looking up at him. They were unable to form the words themself, their chest stuttering and breath hitching with every one of his thrusts.

“Yeah?” he breathed happily.

“Yeah.”

Frankie crashed their lips together as River moaned, his hips keeping the pace he knew they needed. River’s whole body stilled for a second before bucking into a slight staccato as their release wracked through them. They whispered into his mouth, their walls clenching around his cock tightly, trying to provoke his own release as well.

“C’mon,” they panted against his lips encouragingly. It didn’t take much after that, Frankie’s hips slamming into River’s as his cock twitched inside them violently, thick spurts and ropes coating their walls. His hips rolled in slow waves until the last drop left his cock. A low grunt left his lips as he looked down at their combined releases coating his shaft. River moved their hips back a little, more of it dripping out in the process. It made Frankie shiver all over, a wicked little grin on his face.

Quiet settled over the two of them as they caught their breath. River watched Frankie’s face go from tense to the most relaxed they’d ever seen him. They smiled up at him and cupped his face, kissing his nose sweetly. He opened his eyes at that, looking into their eyes and his cheeks warmed at the attention.

“Hey,” he smiled, voice rough.

“Hey, yourself.”

Frankie snorted and leaned down to kiss them deeply. He slowly parted their legs, moving out from between them carefully. River sighed into his mouth at the loss, the cum trickling out as his cock dragged against them. They felt empty, clenching around nothing, but reveling in the filthy feeling they had.

When they came up for air, River played with Frankie’s curls, all of them sticking up in every direction. They grinned and tapped him on the shoulder. “Be right back,” they hummed, crawling out from under him to go into their bathroom down the hall. Frankie watched their ass as they left and plopped down onto his back, one arm resting on his forehead. He shut his eyes and just focused on his breathing for a moment before he heard the toilet flush and the sounds of bare feet coming back into the bedroom.

He looked up and saw River crawling back onto the bed with a warm washcloth. They slowly started cleaning Frankie up, almost reverently. Frankie watched them quietly, his heart skipping a beat. He usually did this part, but was more than happy to be on the receiving end of it. As River finished, they tossed the washcloth into the hamper in their closet.

“You need anything? Water?” River smiled down at him. Frankie nodded and pulled them down for a quick kiss.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

River jumped out of the bed and made their way into the kitchen. Frankie got comfortable as he listened to them move around in there. He heard a small chirp at the door and a fluffy gray tail came in through the doorway. He smirked as Jonsey jumped up onto the end of the bed and got comfortable. Jonsey sniffed at Frankie’s toes before rubbing his head against them and curled up into a ball. He fell asleep pretty soon after that.

“Sorry, had to clean a glass,” River chuckled softly as they walked back into the bedroom, still blessedly naked. Frankie appreciated the view, and happily took the glass of water. He took a couple of big gulps and set it on the nightstand next to him.

River dug around in the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a hair tie. Frankie watched silently as they slowly pulled their long hair into loose braid. Their tattooed skin was slightly shiny from the perspiration of their coupling, making his stomach flutter. He smiled at their flushed cheeks as they tossed the long braid over their shoulder when they finished.

River crawled into the bed carefully, making sure not to wake up Jonsey. “Least he was polite enough to wait until we were done,” Frankie snorted, pulling River into his side. River giggled and kissed Frankie’s chest softly.

“True,” they said around a yawn. “I’m exhausted. You wore me out, old man.”

Frankie sighed in exasperation and laughed softly, kissing River’s hairline. “All that and you still call me old,” he grumbled.

“It’s an affectionate term.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he smirked. “Get some sleep.”

River nodded and got into the covers. They lightly pulled on his arm, kissing his shoulder. “You too, mister.”

Frankie obliged, pulling River close to his chest. Thick fingers passed lightly over River’s skin as their breathing evened out. Frankie stayed up for a bit and just let the moment settle into his heart. He looked down at the top of their head and placed a soft kiss to the crown before shutting his eyes himself.

The last thing he heard that night was the sound of River’s soft snoring. Frankie exhaled, heart feeling at peace for the first time in a long time.

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier smut #oaksfics

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cobalt-axolotl · 6 months

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I plan on doing art RQS (request not the remnant queue system)

I would love if you submitted your head cannons and ask me my own.

About me

I am a pansexual cis male

I fictionkin charlotte Emily, Henry stickmin, and plush trap.

Cassidy is my main blorbo

My prounouns he/him

My name is Austin but I also go by cobalt, charlie (my middle name is charles), and that mother fucker

My favorite fandoms are the following: homestuck, COTL, scp, fnaf, dsaf, Dhmis. Danny phantom, megaman, creepypasta, glitch productions, Minecraft, Ben 10, omori, undertale, sonic, gravity falls, Pokémon, bendy, TcoA&L, analog horror as a whole (especially Mandela catalog, angel hare, and Midwest Angelica), gr3gory88, helluva boss, hazbin hotel, TF2, moral orel, half life, half life VR but the AI is self aware, bioshock, 5YL, Spooky’s Jump-scare Mansion, The owl house, epithet erased, amphibia, Steven universe, Henry stickmin, disc world, AO ONI, pizza tower, and various tokusatsu

My favorite animal is the axolotl

I mainly post incorrect quotes and art but I do run an ask blog for my AU’s

I am a simp for papyrus undertale

Minecraft is my favorite video game

I run an 14+ blog

By the time I am making this edit I am 18 years old.

My OTPs are Evan x Cassidy and marlie

DNI (do not interact)

Transphobes

Racist

Sexist

TERFs

Homophobes

Pedophiles

Trolls

Stupid people (people who refuse to learn)

List of my AUs and they’re connected cannons

Golden children (fnaf)

Shattered souls (fnaf)

Malefactor malfunction (fnaf and Ben 10)

Glam it (fnaf)

Triple M (scp)

Xanthophobia (fnaf)

GMTC (fnaf and undertale)

B&P (fnaf and dnd)

NUCN (fnaf)

SBR (fnaf)

Under void (undertale)

Fazrune (fnaf and deltarune combo)

Like it never even happened (fnaf)

List of oc’s and ther connected AUs

Nick (my fnaf AUs)

Virgil (under void)

List of my AU’s with songs that describe them

Golden children: just gold by Mandi pony (I don’t like the guy I just like his music)

Shattered souls: creepin towards the dirt by griffinila

Malefactor malfunction: the ben 10 theme song (just replace the words Ben 10 with Cassidy)

Glam it: this comes from inside by the living tombstone

Triple M: secure container protect by madame macabre

Xanthophobia: look what you made me do by taylor swift

GMTC (give me the child): collared by vane

Bears and pizzerias: your the key by Kyle Allen music

Nicks ultimate custom night: replay your nightmare by hard ninja

Stuck in the back room (my alive AU): I’m still standing by Elton John

Under void: gasters theme by Toby fox

Characters in my AU’s

Cassidy Noelle Carter (died at 14 in golden child au) (in the golden children AU she becomes Fredbear and in the shattered souls, glam it, xanthophobia ,and malefactor malfunction AU she doesn’t die) (can speak German) (learned German so she can figure out what’s bothering Nick and calm him down) (in xanthophobia nicks death drives her to the point of insanity and causes here to become a serial killer “super edgy I know”) (in shattered souls she marries Evan but doesn’t change her last name due to her hatred for William) (learned Korean from her mother and is fluent it)

Evan afton (crying child) (died at 12 in golden children au but not dead in malefactor malfunction, glam it, xanthophobia, or shattered souls Au) (loses all sense of empathy after the bite of 83 in xanthophobia “a head injury can do that to you right?”) (marry’s cassidy in shattered souls)

Benny afton (Cassidy’s and Evan son biological son in shattered souls) (an analog to golden children Cassie)

Goldie (he’s here he’s there he’s everywhere who you gonna call psychic friend fred-bear)

Gregory afton (Vanessa’s brother in the golden children au) (trans gender FTM)

Cassie Maxie Carter (nick and Elizabeth’s adopted daughter in the golden children AU) (named after her aunt)

Kasey Roxanna Carter (Cassidy’s twin sister) (nicks older sister) (lesbian) (cares for Nick as much as Cassidy but is unable to understand him at times) (neli’s ex girlfriend) (posses Roxanne wolf) (currently dating Susie) (learned Korean from her mother and is fluent in it)

Gaberiel grim (died at 10) (died in 1985) (possesses Freddy)

Jeremy grim (died at 11) (died in 1985) (posses Bonnie)

Fritz smith(died at 3) (died in 1985) (posses foxy)

Susie McCarthy (died at 14) (died in 1985) (posses chica) (Kasey’s current girlfriend)

Adrian smith(died at 5) (died in 1987) (part of the second mci) (posses mangle)

Millie fitzsimmons (died at 18) (died in 1987) (part of the second mci) (possesses toy Bonnie)

Markus Murphy (died at 17) (died in 1987) (part of the second mci) (possesses toy Freddy)

Nelli Twain ( died at 16) (died in 1987) $part of the second mci) (possesses toy chica) (Kasey’s ex girlfriend)

Jake McCarthy (died at 6) (died in 2016) (used to posses stitch wraith along with Andrew)

Andrew Montgomery Emily (died at 16) (died in 1987) (part of the second MCI) (posses Monty in the golden children au) (used to possess stitch wraith along with Jake) (was besties with Cassidy and Evan)

Charlie Emily / Charlie afton (not dead in the golden children or Xanthophobia au) (is dead in shattered souls) (marries Mike in the golden children au)

Mike afton

Vanessa afton (Mike and Charlie’s daughter in golden children au)

Elizabeth Clair Afton / Elizbeth Clair Carter (doesn’t die or posses baby in the golden children au) (died at 8 in the shattered souls & malefactor malfunction AU’s) (is nicks best friend) (dies to circus baby in shattered souls au) (takes Evan’s place in shattered souls au) (born in 1979 in the main 2 AU’s) (married to Nick as an adult in the golden children au) (going to college to become a psychologist in the golden children au)

Malary Emily ( Henry’s wife) (Charlie and Sammy’s mom)

Henry emily (dies at 63) (championed for better treatment of autism in the golden children AU)(mentored Nick in robotics after Edd’s death)

Clair afton (died at 20 due to suicide) (Williams ex)

Loralai afton (Williams current life) (survives in every AU I made) (her name is also a pun on Ballora) (Evan and Elizabeth’s mom)

William Afton (Dies at 36)

Dave miller (nicks therapist) (named after book and DSAF Dave)

Nikki Carter (Nick, Kasey, and Cassidy’s mom) (Korean immigrant) (left while Nick was too young to remember) (may or may not have indirectly been the cause of David’s abuse to towards Nick)

Malcom faraday zanaflex (main protagonist of my scp au)

Dr Elias Munro (died at 79 on the year 1981) (original owner of fredbear’s sing’n show) (was a father figure to Henry and William) (was their boss before he retired in 1955)

Zachary Munro/nightmarionne (not dead) (became a mutant after a remnant injection) (immortal) (grandson of Elias)

Garret schmit (basically Garret from the movie combined with Mike from the movie)

Abby schmit (just Abby from the movie)

Jeremy Fitzgerald

Sammy Lewis emily (is younger than Charlie in these AU’s) (like around nicks age) (non verbal until his twelfth birthday) (good with Rubik’s cubes) (dies in xanthophobia and takes charlottes place as the puppet)

Billy (AI created by William afton to watch after evan while he worked on his projects)

Jack Kennedy (named after the one from DSAF just nota corpse) (Bonnie mask Bully) (gave Nick the spring Bonnie mask) (was much less willing than mikes other friends during the bite of 83) (mikes right hand man)

Maddison Simmons (jacks girlfriend) (chica mask Bully) (was much more willing than her boyfriend)

Jerry Mann (Freddy mask bully) (just as willing as Mike & Emilia)

Vinny (literally just exist to be Sammy’s boyfriend because I don’t like Sammy being forever alone)

Nickolas Alastair Carter (Kasey and Cassidy’s younger brother) (has a red Bonnie plushi named mr Marvo) (is a paranoid schizophrenic) (was raised by his sisters due to them having bad parents) (takes Cassidy’s place in shattered souls au) (works at the pizzaplex in the glam it au) (born in 1983 in the main 2 AU’s) (has a slightly un healthy obsession with Bonnie the bunny) (was hired on by Henry during the events of fnaf 1 in golden children AU) (often wore a Red Bonnie halloeeen mask as a child) (can speak German but only does it when he’s extremely angry or when he finds a certain word to be extremely funny) (autistic “like me”) (he’s also really defensive about his intellect) (died in a ball pit in shattered souls au) (acespec panromantic) (post ffps his soul transfers into eclipse in the SS Au)

Edwin Alastair Carter (Aka. Grandpa eddy) (Nick and Cassidy’s grand father) (their only parrental figure that isn’t abusive to Nick) (was hired by Henry and William to design the springlock suits) (built the mimic as a friend for Nick) (also made the old man consequences AI)

David mobi carter (Nick, Kasey, and Cassidy’s father) (abusive towards Nick in specific) (Cassidy is his favorite) (ignores Kasey) (is manipulative towards Nick)

Old man consequences (an AI that acts as a sorta therapist to Nick in my AU’s)

Nightmare (before being possessed by half of nicks soul it was the first working springlock suit known as proto lefty) (not one of the nightmare animatronics) (half of nicks soul)

Marvo Marvelous (half of nicks soul in the shattered souls au) (a red magician hare)

NYX

Glitchtrap (separate from mimic) (had his consciousness put into a roomba)

Captain poncho (nicks imaginary friend) (scares Gagleon)

Stitch wraith (possessed by Andrew and Jake)

Fredbear (possessed by Cassidy and Evan in golden children au)

Plush trap (in the golden child au he is a little drone sent out by null trap)

Null (second spring Bonnie suit that William place Evans body in after he died) (possessed by Evan in the both AU’s)

Mxes the hare (in the au he is named after mr mxes) (the au version of him looks more human in the AUs) (in golden children au he was first an animatronic for the fnaf 1 location that filled the same role as the then defunct security puppet) (created my nick)

RWQFSFASXC (all of nicks insecurities in physical form) (main antagonist of the GMTC AU) (shadow Bonnie)

Shadow Freddy

Mr mxes (has half of Cassidy’s soul inside of it in golden child au) (is choc full of agony from Nick)

Mimic (nick and Cassidy pretend he’s their older brother as in all three AU’s he just lives with the two)

Nickolai (animatronic human built by Henry as a third entertainer at fredbear’s family diner) (starts wearing a Fredbear Halloween mask after the mci for… “reasons”)

Void Bonnie (shattered souls spring Bonnie) (has a shadow variant name dark trap) (this Springbonnie is possessed by Nick not William afton as he simply feeds off of William’s agony) (heroic counterpart to Springtrap) (takes golden Freddy’s place in shattered souls AU) (born from Nick’s corpse being put into a certain ball pit) (name after the void between the physical and spiritual plains)

Mangle

Miketrap (the pit creature before metamorphosing into pit Bonnie) (a Monroe experiment)

Salvage (an old springlock suit given life through mysterious means) (a Monroe experiment)

Nightmarionne (a nightmare version of the puppet) (a Monroe experiment)

Remnant Queue System (the shadow’s child)

Night-watch (machine built by Mike to hunt down what’s left of Fazbear entertainment and destroy William once and for all) (-the rebuilt endo of Fredbear)

The classics

The toy animatronics

The withered animatronic

Springtrap (not darktrap) (in shattered souls darktrap used the spring locks to curve his violent tendencies and forget about him being a killer) (in shatttered souls his charge goes from being a humanized billcipher as William to a dsaf Dave miller and gruncle stan combo as Springtrap)

The nightmares (evil versions of the twisted ones in the golden children au)

The fun times

Ennard the clown (the in between of the fun times and glamrocks with his blood lust being replaced by a humanoid level of sapience) (has a shape sifting gimmick which he uses to entertain kids)

The Glamrocks

The twisted ones (in the my AU’s they’re good guys and built by Mike along with night-watch)

The hellfire animatronics (upgraded versions of the twisted ones)

The night terror animatronics (scrap’s, night terror Freddy, night terror Bonnie, night terror foxy, and night terror chica,)

The salvage animatronics (salvage Monty, salvage freddy, salvage ennard, and darktrap) (constructed from broken animatronics) (end is are exposed) (partially inspired by the ignited animatronics)

And the omori charecters are cannon to the malefactor malfunction au cuz why the fuck not

The springlock animatronics (fredbear, spring Bonnie, and Alastair)

Villains for malefactor malfunction can be found here

How the AU’s work

Each au has four version (book style in which it falls into silver eye’s continuity, game style in which it falls into game continuity, movie style in which it falls into movie continuity, and amalgam style in which it combines all three continuity’s into one)

In xanthophobia Cassidy is the villain (William afton die’s extremely soon in the AU and for once in his life never comes back)

So in my most of my AU’s the souls are able to grow old despit not being alive which explains any shipping you might see. Most of it isn’t my doing though

Elizabeth x Nick is only cannon in golden children

Unless its Evan x Cassidy or Mike x Charlie

TF2 is cannon in the golden children au (i mostly just wanted to make fnaf 2 Jeremy TF2 Jeremy)

The golden children au takes place in the late 80s to early 90s with flash forwards towards the pizzaplex era while the shattered souls au takes place in 1991 and the malefactor malfunction shifts the entire time line to start in 2000 GMTC takes place around 1999 to 2018 xanthophobia takes place in in the 2000s and 2010s

In shattered souls Springtrap is much nicer due to him losing his murdeous tendencies after getting spring locked

malefactor malfunction is a Ben 10 fnaf crossover with Cassidy having a version of the omnitrix called kaizotrix

The blog itself is cannon in all AU’s

This is a link to the malefactor malfunction aliens list for all of Cassidy’s kaizotrix transformations

As well as facts about the malefactors

Also a timeline for my main AU

*Warning*

Some times I can be very cringe

Check these people out too

@sparkledogzvomit

@sotogalmo

@asksamanthalawrence324

@hearts4ggy

@therealprismcat

@afton-family-askblog

@midnight--motorist

@corpserabbit

@sassysoulstranger

@harley-angel

@simply-icarus

@fredbearcassidy

@wind-the-music-box

@kriemhild-kafka

@dommarhooober

@sea-menace

@ask-basil-omori

@amilotta

@apocalypticjay

@shywizardflower

@beardedstrangerdreamland

@ilovelawrencee

@kaycrowley

@lizzie-get-in-the-robot

@vinyl-lol

@viarayy01-blog

@ghosts-cant-die-twice

@it-came-from-mount-ebott

@idsfantasy

@childo0p

@thecryptidart1st

@the-smiley-blue-axolotl

@museumoftinyhens

@i-live-in-your-basement

@serpentdragon777

@ramunehana (if you 18+)

@artistmediocore

Also check my alts

@cobal-axolotl-undertale

@tokucross-fanproject

@red-documents-redo

@nick-and-cass

@nightmare-from-fnaf4

I also put Nick official design down here

Here is my creepypasta and uncharacteristically ask blog

An here at my character designs so far https://www.tumblr.com/random-world-64/735868089007259648/all-my-major-chararacters-so-far

And here’s some fanfics I’m working on

her is my sona AXOL

Lore alarm

The blog itself is also a cross over point for my AU’s and in multiverse it’s ran by the characters

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citylighten · 6 months

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character/story inspiration tag

rules: write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your story and/or OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe

Snatched from @wavvi Tagging @crimewriter/@neonoirland, @digital-deluxe, @havemercymusic, @joannebernice, @armoricaroyalty, @swiftviolets and if you have a story consider yourself tagged!

So because I can't update Sink or Swim like I want to, I decided to whip this up.

For Rosaria

Starting from the left side, we have the actress Marisa Abela who originally served as a means of inspiration for Rosaria’s facial features. Peggy Olson from Mad Men, Retsuko from Aggretsuko, and the movie Secretary.

On the right side we have lyrics from the song "Bad Girls" by Tennis, American Crime Story: Impeachment, Andrea Sachs from The Devil Wears Prada, Waylon Smithers from The Simpsons and the film Funny Girl. I watched Secretary before writing Sink or Swim because I knew it had the tone I wanted with its lead character essentially having a 'sexual awakening' through her boss. A narrative element that connects Aggretsuko and Secretary, beyond its office setting, is how its lead female characters find themselves in relationships with subpar men (sorry to any Haida fans, but that relationship wasn't developed well) which represents how Rosaria began Sink or Swim in a relationship with Ben. Something that connects Secretary, Funny Girl, and The Devil Wears Prada is how its female protagonist undergoes a transformation in terms of presenting herself through the attire she wears. Additionally, in the case of Funny Girl, I took inspiration in how Barbra Streisand's character defied idealized female beauty standards. Fanny Brice found a role at the Follie’s for her comedy, not her appearance, but as she accumulates wealth we see her become a glamorous woman who gains the attention of a traditionally handsome gambler. Beyond portraying a deeply inappropriate workplace relationship, Impeachment provided me a lot of inspiration in how her voice should sound and the various ways she wears her hair.

FOR PIETRO

Starting from the left side, we have Mad Men, The Sopranos, Henry Tomasino of Mafia II, and Michael De Santa of GTA V. On the right side we have lyrics from “Count Me Out” by Kendrick Lamar, Benny of Fallout New Vegas, Hades from Lore Olympus, and the musical Company.

Video games played a bigger role in Pietro's characterization than I realized. Benny was my first source of inspiration from Pietro, as he is the protege of a powerful man (Mr. House) who has ambitions of his own. I always felt Benny was someone who felt he could do better and be better than the man he followed. This is exactly how we'll eventually come to see Pietro's dynamic with Raphael whereas Henry Tomasino is a character I modeled Pietro's voice on and Michael De Santa? Well, when it came to dressing Pietro I always think about the clothes that are available for his character to wear. I checked out Lore Olympus before writing Sink or Swim because I wasn't sure how I wanted to characterize Pietro when it came to his relationship with Rosaria. He isn't necessarily like the boss from Secretary, he isn't Christian Gray, and while I saw LO had its critics I wanted to look over the comic and see what worked or, if there was anything I liked about Hades' characterization that could be incorporated into Pietro. Turns out there were a few things (relationship issues, therapy, a soft spot for dogs). On the subject of therapy, Pietro's sessions with Dr. Bracco are inspired by Tony's reoccurring sessions with Dr. Melfi in The Sopranos. I liked how they provided a gateway into what Tony's character is thinking, and I also thought it would be the best for readers to get to know Pietro, a quiet, vague guy, that way, but Mad Men was ultimately more of a inspiration for Pietro than Sopranos was. Inspiration from the musical Company would come a little later once I decided that Pietro was a guy with relationship troubles as the musical depicts a stable, successful man who is seemingly fine with being alone, but actually craves to receive romance and 'be alive.'

#sink or swim extras #oc: pietro #oc: rosaria

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sehtoast · 1 year

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Practice Makes Perfect (Homelander x OC)

18+

2.5k - Inspired by the new video of Homelander practicing his speech. Ben helps motivate him- maybe a little too much.

Warning: Smut, mirrorlander, face fucking, cum eating, oral sex, homelander manhandles his partner, domlander, ftm!oc, vaginal sex

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

“That’s why you guys, are the real heroes,” John recited in the mirror for the millionth time before grimacing and muttering to himself. “Alright– okay. I’m the Homelander! No– fuck.”

Ben watched on from his spot on Homelander’s bed, cracking a smile at the pitiful absurdity of John’s obsessive need to perfect his speeches. He’d been there for hours, watching John go back and forth, scribbling new lines on his paper, crossing out others– all just to make sure he was perfect.

Poor guy, Ben thought to himself. Always working, even on his day off. Wish I could help…

“I am Homelander,” John began again, his tone much more serious than the last attempt. “And as a superhero, sometimes you have to do things– so,” he took a sharp inhale. “Why did I do it? I did it because it’s the right thing to– to… do.”

Ben watched, eyebrow cocked, as John began to fiddle with his suit. Even from across the room, he could hear the stiff leather of Homelander’s gloves creak as he fought with the flap on his chest. He tried it down, then up when it wasn’t laying perfectly flat. He smacked it down again, the magnets clacking together with each obsessive change.

Benny couldn’t take it much longer. The web-head stood from the bed and tossed his phone to the side.

John seemed surprised when Ben nudged his gloved hands away to adjust the flap himself, smoothing it down flat to reveal the patterned red and white fabric beneath.

“There you go, babe.” Ben patted his shoulders before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re doing great.”

John sighed and shook his head in frustration.

“I’m never going to get this one right.”

“Bullshit,” Ben chuckled, the shake of his head causing his curtain bangs to ruffle. “I’ve seen your speeches! You’ll figure it out; you always do.”

Homelander found a spark of inspiration just then, and he turned to the mirror, Ben still staring up at him.

“Quite simply,” he began, his tone cool and confident. “I did it because it’s the right thing to do.”

As if on queue, he and Ben spoke in unison.

“There you go.”

Ben left him with another peck to his cheek before shuffling to stand behind him.

“Everybody loves you…” Ben whispered as he snaked his hands around John’s waist, thumbing at his hip bones. “Because you’re perfect. Perfect. I mean, you are fucking…” Ben exhaled in his ear. “Perfect.”

John let out another sigh– this one less defeated.

“Keep going,” Ben encouraged.

“Firefighters are the real heroes,” Homelander continued, then rolled his eyes. “You guys– firefigh– firefighters. You guys are the real– oh!”

John stumbled over his words at the feel of his zipper pulling down.

“Don’t stop.” Ben ordered.

“Oh, god,” he groaned. “Teachers– teachers. Teachers,” he all but yelped as Ben's fingers hooked under his briefs, lowering them all the way to his ankles. “T-Teachers are the– Teacher’s are the custodians of…”

A hand against his lower back pushed John forward, leaning him against the tabletop in front of the mirror. As if on instinct, he spread his legs apart and arched.

“They are the real…” he panted, “heroes…”

A tongue dragged along the rim of his hole, and Homelander had to grip the edge of the table to steady himself. The words caught in John’s throat, and after a beat of silence, the warm, wet muscle left him.

“I said,” Ben punctuated, “keep going. You’ve gotta get it juuuust right, baby…”

“Y-You guys– hah!” John keened, leaning back into his little spider’s swirling tongue. “Y-You’re–”

A swat to his rear had Homelander biting his lip to silence a squeal.

“Y-You’re the real heroes!”

Ben worked his way down to John’s sack, sucking a side of it in his mouth to lave and slobber on as he worked his love’s shaft with gentle strokes.

“And I– you– I commend…” John whined, torn between pushing backward or fucking into the hand that worked his aching cock. “Benny– please…”

Ben released John’s sack.

“Finish your speech, honey.”

Lips pecked at the flesh of his left glute, and John’s head fell forward.

“I c-commend y-your efforts and your h-heroics!” Homelander sputtered. He felt a hand undoing the zipper on one of his boots– then the other, and he kicked them off along with his pants. He spread his legs wider.

“A-And your s-service–”

Ben buried his tongue into John’s hole, fucking it in and out as he jerked his love’s cock with one hand and massaged his balls with the other.

“I-I’m the Homelander! I a-am the H-Homelander…” he exhaled, the tension growing deep in his core. “And I c-can do– Oh, fuck!”

A chuckle reverberating against his hole made John release an especially pitiful whine.

“I can do… whatever… I…” John reached back, gripping Ben by the hair. “Whatever I want,” he growled, shoving his lover to the floor.

Homelander pounced on Ben like an animal going for the kill. Without any warning, he jammed his cock past Ben’s lips, pushing past the resistance of his little spider’s tongue to sink all the way in– pressing the base of himself against Ben’s nose. John’s lips curved into a devilish smile at the feeling of his balls resting against Ben’s chin.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want!” Homelander repeated in a strained shout, thrusting his hips to chase the wet heat– practically singing his fucking moans into the room each time Ben’s throat clenched around him, gagging his little spider with reckless abandon.

Ben’s vision tunneled as he held on for dear fucking life, struggling to catch a breath, clinging to the floor with the setae in his fingers lest he be fucked across it by the sheer punishing pace of John’s thrusts.

He didn’t imagine John flipping the switch like this. Not that it was a bother to get used so brutally by Johnny– no, he fucking loved it. He loved it even when John withdrew his cock and smacked him across the face with it. He loved it when John sank his balls against his lips, wordlessly demanding he open wide and love on them instead.

Not long after, John moved forward, settling down to rest his hole right over Ben’s mouth– pleased to high heaven that his little love bug moved right on to eating him without so much as a shred of hesitation.

Homelander was a wreck, riding and rutting against Ben’s face, moaning, “Ben– hah! Benny! Fuck, fuck, fuck…” as he jerked himself. The tension in his core was building– higher, higher…

“Hnngh, fuck!” John groaned, his cock spurting thick ropes of cum upward. Most of them landed on the abdomen of his suit– others, in Ben’s hair. John panted obscenely as he rode out his orgasm, grinding down onto his lover’s hot tongue until he fell from the high.

“On the fucking bed,” Homelander demanded, gripping his little spider by the jaw. “Right now, Benjamin.”

Ben didn’t make it fully onto the bed before John had him bent at the waist, face down against the blankets. As his face was pushed into the soft surface and his clothes torn away, Ben could clearly make out the sight of John preparing to sink his cock into him, thanks to one of the side mirrors. A shaky moan escaped his lips as the head pierced his dripping cunt before ramming into him in one go, stretching him out mercilessly.

“J-Johnny!” Benny yelled, gripping the blankets in desperation as Homelander began to pound into him without mercy. God– this was one of those times. The hands biting into his waist without a single care for his comfort practically fucking confirmed it.

This wasn’t just John.

This was his protector, too.

In fact, John might not even be present…

Wasn’t often Ben got to play with this other side of John, but fuck… When he did, this part of Homelander would leave him a mess– cum drooling from his pussy and his mind in a pure fog of destructive pleasure. Undone in every fucking way possible. They had a safeword, and Ben feared he may just end up using it by the end of the night.

A sharp slap to his ass had Ben’s head rising from the bed to whimper.

“Think you can just fucking tease me?” John– or, well, Homelander– (both?) snarled, the obscene sound of wet skin clapping ringing out every time he pulled Ben’s body onto his.

Fuck, he wasn’t even thrusting at that point– just ragdolling Benny’s body right back onto him like some sort of human fuck toy. Just taking what he wanted, exactly the way he wanted it. Bruises and handprints be damned, he would put his love bug in his place and enjoy every second of it.

“Think you can just take that little tongue of yours out of me whenever you please?” He continued, his lips flared to reveal those sharp teeth that made him look nothing short of predatory. “I,” he punctuated with a sharp thrust, “decide when you stop! Just like I decide when you’ve had enough!”

Ben gasped when Homelander grabbed him by the hair, jerking him up to kneel. One hand took him by the jaw, a gloved finger snaking into his mouth, while the other moved down to tease at his clit. John’s chest, still covered in his suit, pressed to his back, but– god, oh god the thrusting never slowed, never lost its intensity.

Homelander meant to fucking undo him, it seemed. The filth rolling from John’s lips never ceased, but Ben’s ability to process the words certainly did. The further he climbed to the peak of his pleasure, the more incoherent he became. Soon, the only things he knew were the cock slamming into him and the fingers pushing down his throat.

“J-Joh…ny!” Ben mewled as his orgasm hit like a thousand pound brick, falling over him, his cunt quivering against the stuttering thrusts of John’s cock until he felt heat fill his core in bursts.

Benny tried to gasp for air as he arched and writhed against John, but an iron grip on his throat stopped him.

“That’s it,” Homelander growled in his ear, still rocking against him. “Hold your breath while I fill you… There you go,” he chuckled wickedly. “I wanna feel that pussy drinking me up…”

Just as his vision began to tunnel, Ben was dropped, and the cock filling him to the brim was gone, leaving him twitching around emptiness.

But, oh, how could he think for even a moment that he’d get off so easily?

Homelander’s grip on his thighs let him know that things were far from over, and their playtime had only just begun.

Ben was dragged until his upper thighs rested against Homelander’s shoulders and a tongue delved into his cunt before he was lifted. Arms wrapped around his waist, securing his pussy tight against Homelander’s unrelenting hunger, subject to whatever torture John’s other half intended to put him through.

The suction against his tender clit had Ben clinging to John’s thighs for something, anything to anchor him into this world– lest his soul flee in terror of the onslaught he would be facing until John’s protector decided he’d had his fill. He was content to dangle there, to let Homelander consume every part of him until there was nothing left. To suck the cum out of him until he was satiated.

But, no.

Homelander doesn’t give without taking, and he certainly doesn’t take without demanding more.

So, when a hand tangled in Ben’s cum stained locks, he let John direct him without complaint, without resistance.

Benny swallowed John’s cock, his throat still familiar with the girth from earlier. The thrusts were gradual– until they weren’t. Until Homelander was pummeling his throat just as hard as he did his pussy, forcing obscene, sloppy, wet sounds from Ben as the web-head gargled on the mix of cum, slick, and spit coating John’s cock.

“That’s right, Benjamin. Clean my fucking cock.”

Homelander’s grip on his waist left Ben keening in a sensation caught between mindless pleasure and pain.

Just what he wanted to hear.

See how easy he is to break? John’s protector gloated in the confines of their shared mind. He’s tasty, too… No wonder you like him so much, sport.

Ben was on the verge of losing his mind.

The blood rushing to his skull, the abuse of his pussy, the pounding of his throat…

Too much, but, oh, it was delicious.

But it needed to end soon…

A tongue dipped into his cunt, lapping at the emergence of fresh juice leaking from him, and Ben began to buck against Homelander’s face as best as he could.

The supe took it for the sign it was, and showed all the mercy a god could to his favorite subject, taking Ben’s clit back to finish the job.

It didn’t take long for his little spider to scream out his orgasm, muffled by the cock in his mouth.

That was his queue to let go, too.

Homelander reached down, shoving Ben’s head against his cock once, twice, and one final time before he spilled his seed down his little love bug’s throat.

He stood for a moment, basking in the high of what he’d done.

He loved to take Benny apart, piece by glorious piece.

A gentle tap at his thigh, drumming out a pattern he recognized, let John know to let off. Somehow, that little nonverbal queue was enough to pull John back from the depths of his own mind. They’d agreed upon a nonverbal form of a safeword, once. Just in case.

Some ridiculous song beat– something no person would ever find themselves doing during sex without an explicit reason.

John shook back into control, lowering Benny onto the bed carefully.

He crawled over his darling little spider, inspecting all of the marks he’d left. Part of him felt like he should fucking apologize. He cupped Ben’s face in his hands, smoothing his now bare thumbs over his love’s cheekbones.

He took it too far.

“Hmm…” he heard Ben hum. “You’re somethin’ else…”

“I’m sorry…” John cooed, pressing a kiss to Ben’s forehead. “I should’ve–”

“No.” Ben moaned firmly through the haze of his drop. “No, I liked it– just a lot, y’know?”

John softened and rolled them, allowing Benny to nuzzle against his chest. He trailed soft paths up Ben’s back, rubbing circles here and dancing his fingertips there.

“You up for a bubble bath?” John asked. “I know you have that new citrus stuff and I–”

“Yeah…” Ben whispered. “Just hold me for a bit, though. I love you– wanna feel you for a minute…”

John’s heart fluttered.

“Of course, babe.” He pressed a kiss to Ben’s forehead. “I love you more.”

Ben let out a tired laugh.

“Oh, not this game again. I love you more.”

It was true. John knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it was true.

Just like Ben knew that John’s statement was as well.

Their love was infinitely true.

#homelander #homelander smut #homelander fanfiction #antony starr #the boys #the boys tv #oc: benjamin colyer #SO SO SO EXCITED TO FINALLY USE BENJAMIN IN A FIC AHHHHH #homelander x oc #ben x homelander

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w98pops · 9 months

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TW: SUICIDE MENTION, VIOLENCE

i knew i said i would take a little break, but ive been mentally declining a lot and drawing my silly guys is my way of coping. I never actually properly drew Wendy from 2301, so im filling in the blanks.

I'd like to think of her as a person who never actually... grows up. She just kinda gets taller and more sad over time. Wendy was always very vulnerable but cheerful, and House kinda groomed her into a serious and politically aware person, still unbelievably vulnerable but a viable subject nonetheless. I always had this problem with writing her relationship with another canon character, no one realistically would give a fuck about her and her opinions. Sure, maybe Arcade will pity Wendy because she's "stupid" from a neurotypical point of view, but other than that, she doesn't have any weight in any political conversation that's going on in the Mojave. So I made her really fucking stubborn. Annoyingly so. Wendy just... gets the job done. She's resourceful, efficient and very easy to manipulate. A perfect fit for a House's courier, I think. She doesn't question his orders, she does not care for consequences as long as she has House as her cover (a trait she inherited from her step-father) and she's sometimes sociopathic and numb to voices of empathy. Not in a "edgelord murder killer girl" way but more like. She doesn't see people who hurt her as humans. A coping mechanism that would probably be the end of her, sometime in the future. I mean, she did confront Benny and got really physical. There was no way she could've win a fight against a grown ass man, and Benny did beat the shit out of her, but in the end he was the one with a cracked open skull. I just like to think that her pure madness and helplessness was enough to fuel her mind and overpower something she had no chance against in the first place. SPEAKING OF CHANCE. That's why I think she would totally get along with Chance, the Khan from the comic. I don't really put a thought about how he would've survived or joined her, but they're pretty much soulmates. They have very different backgrounds, personalities, literally anything, but Chance recognises her rage. Her inability to do what's right and the constant fight against unfightable (?) circumstances she's facing every day. I'd like to think he's autistic too. As a treat.

So yeah, she's super uncertain about anything in her life, and that makes her a very useful tool in the hands of a right man. Mr. House mastefully manipulated her personality in a conventional way, taught her the secret and mysterious knowledge of "masking" and sat her down for a few years to teach her ways of the capital and created this really sad but smart and charismatic politician with no real political voice whatsoever. She's also very cute and sweet looking so yeah. He made himself a Tandi. 😭😭 Also he scanned her brains, which would totally not be a big plot point for the future.

Almost perfect, but Sharky is here too, for some reason. He's the biggest pain in the House's ass since Benny. He has a certain emotional intellect, not easy to bribe or manipulate in mental or physical way, he really fucking cares for his sister, and is very aware of the things The Big Guy does to her. See, Sharky wasn't raised by his sister, she was a child herself at that time, and his mother didn't play much role either, too busy bickering with Aletus and then later too busy drinking and fucking in Gomorrah. Sharky was raised by the Strip and the rules of Wasteland. He might not be the smartest guy alive, but emotionally he's mature beyond belief. He's very observant, empathetic and cunning person. Even tho he was mute most of his childhood because of child neglect and untreated autism, he has incredible social skills and a Yes-man in his basement he found while renovating the Tops. He has a plan. Not a good one, but a plan nonetheless.

I have so much OC material I'm ought to write a fanfic. Or a comic, idk. In my dreams, sure, but it's still refreshing to talk about my ocs and draw them, and recieving feedback and praise for my storytelling skills 😭😭😭 it means a lot. Thank you all for reading this far!!!

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #oc: wendy #oc: sharky

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magicshopaholic · 1 year

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So Many Signs (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dilara tries to ignore the obvious, while Taehyung finally loses his cool.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 13 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, sexism, mention of assault, infidelity, longing, heartbreak

A/N: I didn’t think I’d be posting this so soon but I do want to reach a certain point in their story before I continue posting for other members. This one’s long, but I hope you like it! It takes place about a week after Chingu.

This is also a submission for the 2023 K-Pop Fanfic Bingo Event “The Sound of Music”, using the square with one of my favourite childhood songs, Moon Glow by Benny Goodman.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @ananya1398 @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “moon glow” by benny goodman

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

It’s close to the end of the calendar once the Portuguese GP rolls around. It seems to have awoken both PR teams as well, for the schedule suddenly tightens up and two photoshoots, one advertisement and a Run episode filming are all squeezed into a single week.

The first of the photoshoots takes place in a nice, leafy garden in the outskirts of Portimao, rented for the entire day for the shoot. For once, the participants from the F1 side of things nearly match the BTS members in number, with not just the Red Bull drivers there, but also the AlphaTauri ones, along with Max’s girlfriend Kelly accompanying them.

Maybe it’s the peace of the outdoors; maybe it’s the fact that on the plane ride over, Dilara had a front row seat to the view of Taehyung sleeping as he hugged a pillow. Either way, for the first time in forever, Dilara realises she isn’t counting down the minutes until the shoot is over.

The next day, the Thursday before the race weekend, the same day BTS is meant to join as well, she goes for an early morning run at the paddock before her own team PR begins for the day. A Run episode is meant to be filmed on the circuit and wrap up before the other drivers arrive, and Dilara watches as the crew sets up at top speed, even before the members arrive.

After her run, she’s getting a glass of water in the Red Bull enclosure when she feels someone come up behind her. When she turns, she almost spills the water on herself when she sees maybe three inches of distance between her and Jaden Park.

“Shit!” she mutters, taking a step back right into the water cooler. Jaden grabs her arm to steady her and, when she tries to take it back, doesn’t let go for a moment. Dilara’s heart skips a beat but then he drops her arm and sort of forces a smile onto his face.

It does nothing to comfort her, and she suddenly wishes more than ever that Chris or Fred were here. “Hi - hi… Jaden,” she stammers, taking a deep breath to slow her heart.

“Hey.” Jaden shoves his hands into his pockets. “I, um… I saw you last night.”

“Excuse me?”

“At Albert’s Bar?” He nods, assuming her acknowledgment. “You were with BTS, right?”

Fuck. Aside from the fact that she had stepped out for drinks with her housemates the previous night that now seems to have been seen by people, she thinks she can predict what Jaden’s line of thinking is with this.

“Um… yeah, Max and all of us did a photoshoot with them yesterday, so we went out for a drink after,” she tells him, pleasantly surprised at how normal she sounds.

“That’s nice. Feel up to going again?” He cocks one eyebrow and gives her a small smile.

Unsurprised and unimpressed, she exhales. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jaden,” she says firmly, not in the mood to try and let him down easy. She moves to walk past him but he blocks her way. Heart hammering, she looks up at him, slightly incredulous. “What are you doing?”

“So you can have a drink with seven guys but not one with me?” he asks, that strange frown still on his face.

Dilara scoffs. “I wasn’t having a drink with seven guys, I went out for drinks with a few colleagues,” she clarifies through gritted teeth, part of her wondering why she’s even giving this guy an explanation. “It wasn’t a date.”

“You really made up your mind about me after one date?” he demands, frowning. “It's… I mean, you're free to reject me if you don't like me but…" He shrugs, "... this just seems unfair."

She raises her eyebrows. "Listen, Jaden," she continues quickly, now reaching the end of her fuse, "I told you, alright? It's nothing to do with you. I'm just not dating. And I'd really appreciate it if we didn't have this conversation again." She moves to walk away again and, yet again, he steps in front of her.

"Then what is it? The least you can do is give me an explanation, Dilara." He's dropped all pretense of politeness, practically glaring at her now.

She stares at him, contemplating. There's a hundred things she can rip into this guy regarding his behaviour, but she knows there's only one thing that will work with a guy like him - she hopes.

"Look, I…" Dilara exhales, heavily resenting that she has to do this, "when you asked me out, I'd just got out of a relationship, okay? It was complicated and - and I was still working my way through it. There’s - there’s another guy," she clarifies, disgusted yet unsurprised at the sudden understanding on his face.

"So… I was, what? A rebound?"

"No," she says immediately, sensing a bruised ego. "I didn't realise I was still… not over it until we went out. And I didn't want to lead you on any further," she explains, suddenly realising she’s not totally lying.

"Right." Jaden nods, jaw clenched. "And, uh… this guy. Your ex. Is he here? Is he in F1?"

It's a complicated answer, but Dilara is out of patience with him. "I don't think that's important," she says hastily, wanting to shut down whatever man-to-man ape nonsense is going on in his head at the earliest. "And, uh… yeah. So I think we can just put this behind us now? And be colleagues? Great," she says in one quick breath, and without waiting for him to respond, she sidles away, letting out a breath she didn't even know she was holding.

It rankles Dilara all day, how entitled some men are and how only the mention of another man can get them to back down. She takes it out on all the men around her, refusing to pass Max a bottle of water when he asks, and later in the afternoon, sniping at a reporter for asking her how she manages her personal life. She knows she’s not a good person to be around right now so when she goes back to the house, she heads straight away to the home gym to work out some of her frustrations before she snaps at someone else.

It works; she over indexes on the weights and barbells, working up a good sweat. She loses track of time, too; when she glances out of the window towards the end of her session, the sky is a dark indigo, almost black, and she feels a light and cool breeze blowing in, feeling incredible against her damp skin.

She runs into Jimin as she’s leaving, who offers her a can of beer and a smile.

“It’s a race weekend,” she says in explanation, her hands still in her pockets.

“You drank last night,” he points out.

“Exactly. I think I maxed out my quota of booze for the week. Especially booze with this many calories,” she adds, tapping the can and moving to walk past him.

“No worries,” he says easily, falling into step beside her. The walk to the house is a few minutes away; Jimin manages to keep the silence going for about half a minute before speaking again.

“I don’t mean to… what’s the word? Pry?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I don’t mean to pry, but… you and Taehyung seemed to be getting along well yesterday.”

Dilara looks up after a moment, surprised to see how hopeful his smile is. “Was that a question?” she asks after a moment.

“Um…” He looks mildly confused for a second. “Not really. It was nice, that’s all.”

She nods, not knowing what else to say. The last thing she wants is to mislead anyone - especially when she has no idea what she wants herself.

“Does that mean you’re…” Jimin trails off but when Dilara doesn’t respond, he sighs uncomfortably. “Do you think you might… I mean, will you two be okay?”

Deliberately not looking up at him, she responds carefully. “What does okay mean?”

“Just…” The leaves under their feet crunch in the silence. “Will you go back to normal?”

They’ve almost reached the house. She stops in her tracks a few feet away from the porch. “And by normal you mean… before we broke up?”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment, and it’s apparent he’s already regretting bringing it up. “Maybe? It’s just… I mean, what more needs to happen? He can’t take it back, you know… what he did.”

“I do know,” she says forcefully. “And, yeah, a lot more needs to happen. Starting with him having this conversation himself,” she mutters, starting to walk away when he pulls her back. Startled at the second time today, she jerks back.

“S-sorry. Just… God, please don’t tell him about this,” he begs, eyes wide. “He’ll kill me.”

“Then why are you? Is he that miserable to be around?”

“Oh, yeah.” A brief smile flashes across his face before it fades. “But it’s not just him, okay? When I said it was nice seeing you together yesterday… I mean it was nice to see you like that, too.” His gaze falls slightly. “I think we’re friends, too, right?”

Dilara frowns, for she hasn’t the faintest where this conversation is going. “I - sure. But if you’re asking me if us having a conversation yesterday without breaking down means we’re going to get back together… then I don’t know what to tell you.”

Jimin sighs and nods. “I know it doesn’t. But… I don’t know, are you waiting for something?”

There’s something about that question that makes her bristle. “Waiting for something? Like I’m just sitting here, waiting for him to prove himself and pass some test so I can take him back? Do you think I’m having fun or something?”

“That’s not what I -”

“Because the answer is no, Jimin. No, I am not waiting for anything. I waited enough, alright?” she reminds him. “I waited a long time for him to say something before I blocked him and made sure he never could. All I’m doing right now is just… I’m just trying to not be so angry anymore. Because it’s not helping anyone.”

She starts walking backwards towards the house as Jimin processes this response, hoping he gets it. Just as she’s about to turn, he looks up.

“I’m sorry, Dilara. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry. That’s my whole point.”

He raises his eyebrows but thankfully lets it go. “Fine. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”

Dilara nods. “I’m not waiting for anything,” she repeats after a moment, a little calmer. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not… hoping for something.”

Jimin frowns. “Like what?”

She bites her lip before sighing. “Like - like a sign. Maybe. This is not an easy decision - not least because I don’t even know what he wants. It’s -” But she’s interrupted by his scoff.

“Come on, I’m sure even Max Verstappen knows what Taehyung wants,” he tells her, laughing softly.

Dilara narrows her eyes. “I wouldn’t take his word about this. He’s too complicated for me to guess.”

“Max?”

“No, T- you’re… V,” she stutters, rolling her eyes at the blatant slip. “He can’t just waltz back into my life because a PR plan forced me to let him back in.” She starts walking backwards again, careful not to miss the steps on the porch. “That’s what’s always happened. He’s just had to sit back and everything has fallen into place for him. I need an indication, at least, that it’s different this time. I don’t know what that is, I don’t know what it’ll look like… but I need -”

“A sign.” Jimin nods, looking at least somewhat as though he understands what she means. “I get it.”

“Good.” Hoping the conversation ends here, she turns on the spot and opens the door, almost getting a heart attack when she sees Taehyung standing there and pulling on a jacket.

“What - How did you -”

“Gwaenchanha?”

It takes her a moment to be able to answer as she catches her breath. “No, not really,” she gasps, wondering if all the men on the planet have planned to constantly startle her wherever she is. “I - were you standing here this whole time?”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. A lock of blond hair falls elegantly onto his forehead, the rest of his face absolutely still. “What do you mean?”

Dilara stares at him, suddenly mortified at the thought of him overhearing her talk to Jimin about this, or worse, her need for a sign. “I mean… you know what I mean,” she finishes lamely.

“Not really.” He glances at Jimin behind her and nods in acknowledgment before turning back to her. “The team wants to take a couple of extra shots at night, so I’m heading there with Jungkook. You want to come?”

He asks so casually, as though he’s asking her if she wants to go to the grocery store with him, that her heart flutters unexpectedly. “I - your staff won’t like that,” is her first response, before she cringes inwardly. “And also… no. No… thank you.”

Taehyung nods, looking as though he expected it. “No problem. I’ll see you later.”

Dilara watches him leave in silence, his gait cool and smooth as he passes by Jimin, murmuring something in Korean before heading out. She tries to count herself lucky; it doesn’t seem as though he’d overhead her - but if he has, she may as well just begin avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of her life.

Jimin, apparently waiting for Taehyung to be fully out of earshot this time, grins at her. “That kind of sign?”

“No,” she says immediately, entering the house. “Never that kind of sign.”

“Are you sure?” he presses, following her into the house and shutting the door behind him. “It’s him - he’s the sign,” he explains dramatically.

Dilara gives him a pointed look, stopping at the door to her bedroom. “Never that kind of sign.”

—

The next day when Dilara sees BTS in the paddock, her gaze goes straight to Taehyung and Jimin. They're walking next to each other, albeit talking to members on their other sides. She tries to look elsewhere; it's officially race weekend again and she can't afford to be distracted. It's hard, though, because her situation with Taehyung is complicated enough; the last thing she wants is for a private conversation to have been overheard by him, however accidental it may have been.

So Dilara avoids them all day, all of them. She tries not to make it obvious because she’s glad that they’re all finally getting back on decent terms, so she opts to spend time in the garage with the rest of the team, going over free practice times and tyre strategies for Qualifying tomorrow. Even when Jaden Park, who's supposed to be in Max's garage and not hers, accidentally-on-purpose bumps into her and she notices Seokjin looking at them and frowning, she keeps her goal in mind and handles it herself.

It’s a success, for the most part. Her car feels fantastic and the paddock generally seems more lively this weekend for some reason; she doesn’t know if it has to do with the nice weather or the fact that Portimao is generally an exciting race every year. Either way, it’s good for her because in her effort to avoid BTS and give them their space, she ends up spending time with all the other drivers.

Later in the evening, when the paddock is emptying out, Dilara is on her way to the Red Bull conference room for a team briefing when she gets a notification from Jimin. Heart hammering slightly, she swipes it open.

Jimin [19:52] Dilara. Please stop avoiding him because of me.

Dilara [19:53] I’m not? Why would you think that?

Jimin [19:53] Have you said anything to him at all today?

Dilara [19:54] I have gone many many days without saying a single word to him. Did you by any chance tell him what we talked about yesterday?

Jimin [19:56] Of course not. Please don’t avoid him because of that. He’s really confused - I can tell.

Dilara [19:56] Jimin. I’m not avoiding him. Really. I just don’t know what to say to him, to be very honest.

Jimin [19:57] What? Things were getting so much better between you two.

Dilara [19:58] Well, sure. We weren’t throwing things at each other and screaming anymore. That’s a pretty low bar.

Jimin [19:58] Fair enough. Will you be joining us for dinner?

Dilara [19:59] Not sure. I have to go for a briefing. I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Jimin [20:00] Want me to tell him to pick you up? You guys could talk.

Dilara [20:00] Omg NO. Jimin!

Jimin [20:00} What? He’ll be happy to do it.

Dilara [20:01] I’m sure he would. Look, Jimin, I know you feel guilty about your part in this, okay? If this is your way of trying to help - you’re off the hook. I forgive you.

Jimin [20:02] Really?

Dilara [20:02] Yes.

There’s no response. Dilara slows down slightly, wondering if her hunch is actually right. She’d only said that to shut him up, but his silence seems to indicate otherwise.

Then -

Jimin [20:05] Did you kiss last week?

Dilara [20:06] I fucking beg your pardon?

Jimin [20:07] Hobi hyung said he saw you guys hugging. If I remember correctly, you two had no problem going further than that in public.

Dilara [20:08] Jimin. Shut up.

Jimin [20:09] Just a question. Jeez.

Dilara [20:09] I dare you to go ask him this.

Jimin [20:10] Well played.

Dilara [20:11] Look, Jimin, I have to go. Just… I’m not avoiding him, okay? And even if it seems like it, it’s probably for the best.

When Jimin doesn’t reply, she breathes a silent sigh of relief. She’s almost at the conference room now and she’s getting late, but she needs to know this conversation is closed. Then, just when she thinks she can move on with her day, a picture pops up on the chat. It’s of Taehyung, shockingly, in the backyard with his blond hair catching the setting sun as he points - her heart skips a beat - the Polaroid she’d gifted him at the horizon.

Realising with a start that she’s been staring at it for almost a minute, Dilara types out a reply, fingers shaking slightly.

Dilara [20:15] What am I looking at?

Jimin [20:15] He’s been out there for an hour now. He looks like he’s in a k-drama.

If by that he means that Taehyung looks tall, handsome and tragic all at once, he’s right. Dilara feels a familiar rush of mild envy and pride all at once, and knows she needs to nip this in the bud.

Dilara [20:16] Well, he certainly acts well enough to be in one. I have to go. I’ll see you later.

All through the briefing, Dilara can’t help but think that her decision to avoid them is for the best, if Jimin’s reaction is anything to go by. Even after the briefing, she dilly-dallies near the enclosure, wondering how to kill even more time before she has no choice but to head back to the house.

Dilara sighs and glances down at her phone. It’s barely seven; she can’t hang around here for five hours… she looks around, wondering if she can possibly hang around with her pit crew to fix her car or something, when she suddenly catches sight of a small group of them and sees Jaden Park in the middle of it. Her heart in her mouth at how narrowly she’s avoided him, she turns the opposite way and starts walking towards the parking lot.

Then, a miracle happens.

Dilara’s phone pings and she groans softly, not in the mood for more of Jimin’s guilt trip. Honestly, she’s glad that her confession of sorts seems to have indeed been kept from Taehyung, but she’s more convinced than ever that both of them need this space to clear their heads.

Max [22:40] Komyshan. Heading out for a bite with Daniel, Lando and Charles. You’re coming, right?

Her heart leaps and she thinks if her taste were slightly different, she could kiss Max Verstappen. She types out a reply, not even trying to suppress the relieved smile she can feel on her face. Rapidly saying a quick yes, she skips over to the parking lot.

As she nears it, she feels something nagging at her, tugging at her heart. She reopens her chat with Jimin, slowly scrolling up until she finds it.

He’s really confused - I can tell.

There is no reason this should evoke any sympathy in her. She should want him to feel bad for everything he did, but that angry part of her feels like a past version, like a person she used to know. If anything, she knows how he feels, with the confusion - and she realises it’s not sympathy, but empathy she’s starting to feel for him, especially if he’s had Jimin breathing down his neck the entire time as well.

Dilara scrolls further down to the picture Jimin sent her of Taehyung; of course he looks like a model, like a stock photo. Perfect body proportions, perfect jawline silhouette, perfectly falling hair, capturing perfect pictures, looking perfectly heartbroken.

She sighs again, struggling. Things were getting so much better with you two. It’s the validation she didn’t know she needed. She recalls how his unexpected appearance behind the front door had taken her breath away last night.

Feeling apprehensive, she opens her chat with Taehyung to see only two messages, from the night Chris visited. She bites her lip, deciding that she needs to tell someone where she is anyway or they’re bound to get worried. Thumb hovering over the keyboard momentarily, she types out a message.

Dilara [22:50] I’m going out with some of the guys. Not sure when I’ll be back but let’s talk later?

Dilara hits send and immediately panics. Talk? Talk about what? She groans out loud, attracting the attention of her fellow drivers. When Max calls out “Komyshan!”, she waves back tiredly and walks towards them. After they’re all strapped in and Charles is reversing out of the parking lot, she receives a reply.

Tae [22:52] I’ll be waiting.

---

He isn’t, not exactly.

It actually ends up being an extremely late night for them; Dilara and her friends go back to the same club that she’d gone to with BTS two nights ago and although they don’t drink nearly as much and definitely don’t dance, it ends up being a pretty fun night overall and actually succeeds in making her forget about her love life for a couple of hours. When it’s finally time to go, it’s almost one in the morning, just as she’d hoped.

Dilara is pleasantly surprised when Max drops off the other three before driving her back to the house, remembering that they can’t let the group’s location be revealed to anyone. They don’t talk about it, thankfully, but when he stops the car and she’s about to open the door, he finally speaks.

“How’s it going, by the way?” Max points to the house. “Are you two good now?”

She shrugs. “No idea, honestly.”

He frowns, looking mildly curious. “Oh. Looked like everything was fine at the photoshoot the other day. You two looked like you were sneaking around again.”

We were? Dilara’s confusion must show on her face, for Max chuckles. “Obviously, I’m wrong. Anyway,” he says abruptly, and she takes that as her cue to step out, “good luck for tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”

When she enters the house, it’s to see all seven members huddled on the sofa, with Jungkook, Yoongi and Hoseok sitting on the back of the couch. She frowns and stares as the door clicks shut behind her, wondering why on earth they feel the need to pile on top of each other while there are two more perfectly comfortable couches right next to them.

Then she spots the laptop perched on the coffee table in front of them and when Jin says something in Korean and a couple of them laugh and Jimin replies, she realises they're live.

All their eyes flicker up to look at her, though, before quickly darting back to the screen, their expressions carefully unchanging - all except Taehyung.

He meets her gaze; with his long hair brushing his ears and a green cardigan making him look warm and inviting, it’s no wonder she doesn’t look away for a couple of seconds before he tears his eyes away to look back at the screen.

Sensing this as the ultimate opportunity to avoid whatever conversation he has in mind, Dilara swiftly makes her way into her bedroom and quietly shuts the door. Hesitating for exactly one second, she crosses her bedroom and opens her tablet, the only device she has that still has the Vlive app, and joins the stream.

Taehyung looks up again in the direction of her room before turning his attention back to the screen, and for a moment it feels like he’s looking right at her. He glances vaguely over at the rest of them before he locks eyes with Namjoon and - it happens in a split second - Namjoon gives him an imperceptible shake of the head.

Dilara lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, somewhat thankful yet regretful that she won’t hear a knock on her door right now. The next moment, though, she sees Taehyung look down at his lap again and pick up his phone this time, fingers flying over the screen. Right on cue, her phone buzzes next to her.

She scoffs quietly, ignoring how her heart leaps in spite of itself, unsurprised to see a message.

Tae [01:10] How was your night?

Dilara [01:11] Tiring.

Tae [01:12] Still up for that talk?

Dilara [01:13] Aren’t you live?

Tae [01:13] I go live a lot.

Dilara [01:14] Namjoon looks like he could kill you if you left.

Tae [01:14] Hold on, are you watching?

Dilara feels like slapping herself. When she looks up at the screen, she sees his cheeks pulled back slightly, head still bent over his phone.

Dilara [01:15] Just a guess. Can we take a raincheck? I’m pretty tired and I have Qualifying tomorrow.

On screen, he freezes for a moment and she thinks she notices his shoulders fall slightly. He types something before locking his phone and looking up at the camera, tossing his hair out of his eyes, face completely unreadable. Her phone pings, and her heart thuds softly at his reply.

Tae [01:16] Of course. Sleep well.

The next day, the flaw with her proposition comes to light when Dilara, once again, sees them in the paddock. She’s been in the garage for nearly two hours by the time Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook and Namjoon arrive. Given the public setting, the most she can do is wave to them from afar and ignore Jimin giving her a pointed look.

She’d thought long and hard about it as she fell asleep last night, the content of their “talk”. We need space, she’d rehearsed in her head. Just to think. Just to figure this out. Short and vague, the best way to go.

Of course, talking about space isn’t the best decision, especially since none of their conversations have ever gone as planned. They either fight or cry or both, and she’d really rather avoid any of that. As a result, she avoids all of them, specifically Jimin’s texts and even Jungkook when he comes up to her car, eyes shining in admiration. She engages with him while the cameras are on them but the moment they drift away, she immediately excuses herself and hurries into her changing room.

It’s Qualifying day, though, so there’s enough to do in any case. Dilara goes out for FP3, having long and serious discussions with Christian, all his attention on her for once since Max will start tomorrow from the back of the grid due to his penalty.

Dilara feels strangely stressed, still. Part of it is Qualifying, part of it is having Max all the way back in P20 and therefore of no support to her, part of it is Jimin’s continuous texts, Taehyung’s presence, their impending conversation, and Jaden bumping into her yet again - except this time, he’s openly cold.

“Good luck,” he says shortly, brushing past her.

“Thanks,” says Dilara automatically, stumbling slightly while he continues walking.

“Pity you didn’t get the new engine,” he adds, turning around and walking backwards.

“Bite me, Park.”

She shakes her head as he disappears around a corner, the competitiveness emerging in full force. One date, one date and this is the fallout she has to deal with. She makes sure to continue thinking about it, enjoying the anger she knows will help when she gets into the car and zooms into Q3, eventually qualifying P3 for the race tomorrow.

Everyone’s happy; Christian hugs her, Max comes from inside the garage in jeans, hugging her for the cameras, and Natalie Pinkham interviews her, Lewis and George, all the top three qualifiers, one by one.

Dilara still evades the group, though; she sees Namjoon smile at her from across the garage and tentatively smiles back, but looks at no one else. She’s aware of what a terrible job she’s doing with this; she doesn’t even want to imagine what Taehyung’s face looks like when she ignores him. But there’s only so much she can focus on during a race weekend, or at least that’s what she tells herself.

Dilara does have one moment of pleasure, though; on her way back inside for a shower, she passes Jaden again.

“Looks like I won’t be needing that engine after all,” she says innocently, mimicking his shrug and ignoring his scowl as she walks away.

She manages to sneak away from the paddock without the group. There’s a sponsorship meeting they have with the Red Bull marketing team, which was the reason they even showed up today, and the moment she spotted them shuffling into the conference room between engineers and press officers darting about, she hurried away, keen to get back home and lock herself up in her room until she has to go to sleep.

The house is a fifteen minute walk from the paddock. Dilara tries to let go of everything else for a while and just enjoy the weather in silence, along with her P3 starting position and her jab at a bitter ex-flame. It’s peaceful, the last rays of the sun lighting up the sky while the cool breeze makes autumn leaves crunch under her shoes. The house is two minutes away now, within her view, when her phone pings yet again, followed by a series of pings.

Frowning - and panicking, slightly - she opens her phone to see eight messages on the most ridiculous WhatsApp group she’s a part of: Taehyung’s true loves, courtesy Jimin, who added her and Jungkook in an effort to convince her that their friendship is independent of her relationship with Taehyung. Neither she nor Jungkook had ever said anything on it, too awkward to, so eventually after a series of whiny messages, Jimin had stopped as well.

Dilara has no desire to start becoming an active participant now. With all the strength in her, she locks her phone and is about to slip it into her bag when it buzzes, the ringtone loud in the quiet of the street.

Huffing, she answers it. “What?”

“Dilara? Uh… have you left?”

“What… Jungkook?” Unexpected, to say the least. “What are you - I mean, yeah. I have. Why?”

“You should come back,” is all he says. “Taehyung hyung kind of… it’s a bit of a situation.”

This explains nothing. “What does that mean?”

“Um…” Jungkook’s voice moves away, as though he’s speaking to someone else. “I think he - I think punched your ex? That guy? Or - or he tried to, anyway. He’s not the best at -”

“He what?”

“Yeah, no, his stance wasn’t very good either and -” There’s a shuffle and she hears the phone transferred to someone else.

“Hey, Dilara,” comes Jimin’s voice, calm - and smug. “Remember when you said you needed a sign? I think you just got one.”

–

Her legs are starting to cramp but Dilara doesn;t stop, not until she gets to the garage. She spots Jimin and Jungkook hovering at the entrance, shoulders relaxing in relief when they see her.

“What - the - hell?” she pants, stopping for the first time since the phone call.

“Holy shit, did you run all the way?” Jimin asks, ignoring her shake of the head as she tries to catch her breath. “Here, have some water first.”

“What happened?” Dilara asks desperately, reaching for the water anyway and downing half of it in one go. “What do you mean he - and who’s -” There are so many moving parts to it that she falters, her heart feeling like it’s going to fall out of her chest.

“Jaden,” answers Jungkook. “The pit crew guy. He said…” He swallows and looks at Jimin apprehensively.

Her heart skips a beat. “What? Jungkook, what?” Then she remembers. “Wait, where the hell is he?”

“The medic is trying to stop his nose from bleeding,” answers Jimin, sounding repulsed. “Hope it hurts,” he adds savagely.

Her eyes widen and she slaps him on the shoulder. “Not him!”

Jimin blinks, rubbing his shoulder absently. “Oh. Taehyung’s over there - but he’s really angry so be careful when you -”

But Dilara ignores him, brushing past both of them into the changing room he’s pointed at. Kicking the door open, she sees Seokjin standing next to Taehyung, who’s sitting holding an ice pack over his limp hand, while Jin speaks rapidly in Korean, sounding rather like he’s lecturing him. Taehyung looks up mid-wince, face going slack when he sees her, as though he can’t quite believe she’s here.

Seokjin mutters something when he sees her and pats his shoulder before walking out past her, giving her a small nod as he does. Dilara doesn’t look away from Taehyung, though. For a moment, they’re just staring at each other, him with apprehension and defiance, and she with an overwhelming sense of anger… and fear. There’s so much she wants to say, yell, scream that she can’t choose.

She walks forward until she’s standing right above him. “Give me the icepack.”

Taehyung’s face reacts minutely before smoothing back out. He looks back down at his hands and shakes his head. “No.”

Dilara stares at him, incredulous. “Give me the icepack,” she repeats. “And you better start explaining while you’re at it.”

“I don’t need to explain anything,” he mumbles, twisting his body away from her. When she lunges towards him, livid and missing his hand by inches, he looks up in horror. “What are you doing?” he cries. “Do you have any idea how much this hurts?”

Her chest constricts. She reaches forward and takes off his snapback, just for something to do. “Then give it to me!”

“What the - no! Go away!”

“No way. You don’t get to cause drama on my paddock and then tell me to -”

“Oh, so now this is about you?”

“Goddamnit, Tae! Why do you have to make everything so difficult!” she shouts in frustration. “Just give me the fucking icepack!”

Taehyung stares up at her, eyes wide. He takes a shaky breath and she realises with a jolt that for the first time since they broke up, she’s addressed him by his name. Tae… She hasn’t said that name out loud in months, not to Jimin, not to Lexie, not even to herself.

Silently, he raises his hand and hands her the icepack. Taking it, she kneels in front of him and takes his right hand, gingerly placing the icepack on it. He hisses but keeps his hand steady, and she carefully continues, trying not to think about how close they are, how she can feel him looking at her.

His knuckles are red and bruised, but thankfully not bleeding. She tries to hold his hand as gently as possible, but firmly enough that he can’t pull away because she really, really doesn't want to let go of him right now.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demands in a low voice, not looking up. “How could you -” she breaks off, shaking her head.

It’s a moment before Taehyung answers. “It’s not important.” When her head snaps up to look at him incredulously, he frowns and looks away, shrugging stubbornly.

“How is it -” Dilara pauses with the icepack for a moment, exhaling through her nose. “You hit him. You punched him - apparently.”

He frowns. “What do you mean apparently?” he asks, sounding almost defensive.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says sarcastically, holding up his hand and ignoring his dramatic gasp. “Look at this. Have you ever punched anything before?”

“Jungkook taught me once. Kind of.”

“That’s great. And now Jaden is with the medic getting his nose fixed! How is why not important?”

Taehyung scoffs in disgust. “There was barely any blood. Don’t worry, his stupid face will be fine,” he mutters scathingly.

Dilara glares up at him again, fighting the urge to smack the back of his head. “I don’t care about him!” She ignores how he suddenly looks up, as though surprised. “What about you? You - you hurt your hand!” She takes a deep breath. “What if he complains? He - he will complain and then Red Bull -” She gasps as something horrific occurs to her. “What if they - what if Big Hit gets involved? This - this is a PR disaster!”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to have heard most of what she’s said. “It - it will be fine,” he says finally, but she can hear an undertone of worry in his voice. “Namjoon hyung is talking to the team.” He swallows. “I trust him.”

Don’t we all. But Red Bull is a whole other matter. “God, Tae…” She drops her head before raising it slowly to look up at him. “Please tell me this isn’t about what you overheard the other night.”

He says nothing for a moment but then frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“The sign. When I told him that -” But it’s too much to explain and she doesn’t have the patience to get him to admit something he doesn’t want to - if he indeed has something to admit to. “Forget it. What did he say? Jaden?”

Predictably, Taehyunglowers his eyes again. “I can’t tell you. But he deserved it.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

“I mean that there’s no point if I tell you. He said a lot of stupid stuff but if I tell you, then it’s not - it’s not…” He sighs and looks away, and she knows he’s searching for the English word. “It doesn’t mean anything if I tell you,” he says finally, giving up.

Dilara stares. “Are you telling me… you punched a guy - badly - and hurt your hand and you can’t tell me because you’re trying to be chivalrous?” When his eyes light up at the sound of the word he was looking for, she snaps. “You - what? You jeopardized your career to - to defend my honour? Are you actually serious?”

“You didn’t hear him,” he states, frowning down at her now. “You don’t know what he was saying. And no, I’m not telling you,” he adds before she can ask again. “But, yeah. What he said was horrible. And…” He shrugs defiantly. “I didn’t like hearing that about you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that. She should be flattered, and she thinks she is, but it pales in comparison to how worried she is for him right now. He has no idea the power Red Bull holds - none at all. “You’re going to be in so much trouble,” she whispers. “He could press charges. How are you not more worried?”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker. “I don’t think he will,” he says, but his fake confidence doesn’t fool her. “I - I don’t regret it.” He meets her gaze. “Everything he said was bullshit,” he blurts. “He doesn’t know you at all. Seriously, I can’t believe you went out with him.”

Dilara raises an eyebrow. ��You really want to go there?”

He frowns churlishly. “He’s an asshole. He -” Taehyung stops himself, biting down on his lip. “You are so out of his league,” he says eventually, looking away.

After a moment, she dips the icepack onto his hand again, slowly, concentrating on nothing else. “You’re an idiot,” she says quietly, her voice betraying her. “Such a drama queen.”

Taehyung rests his other hand on her shoulder, brushing his thumb lightly against her jaw. She knows he’s doing it to comfort her, but she doesn’t think she’s the one that needs it right now. “I still can’t believe you did this. You’re going to be in so much trouble, Tae,” she repeats, looking up at him again. His eyes soften when she says his name again, and she can tell it means the world to him. But right now, she doesn’t care about that.

“It won’t be as bad as you think. I told you, I trust Namjoon hyung,” he reminds her, eyes flickering to her mouth momentarily. But then a shadow passes across his face. “I just hope I haven’t got him in trouble.”

To that, Dilara has nothing to say. The ice has almost melted now; they’re basically just holding hands, but even the realisation doesn’t make her want to let go. “What did he say?” she tries again, deciding that disdain towards Jaden is better than this worry for his leader. “Jaden?”

Taehyung’s face twists in disgust; somehow he still manages to look handsome and sexy all at once. “I told you, I’m not telling you,” he says obstinately, a slight smirk appearing when she rolls her eyes.

“I can’t think what would be so bad that you’d do this,” she confesses, shaking her head. “You never struck me as the violent type.”

He frowns. “I’m not. But you make me step out of my comfort zone quite a bit,” he adds, cracking a smile.

Dilara holds his gaze, not sure what about the situation today could have required it. It’s not surprising that Jaden would’ve said something, maybe even something really bad. Did he call her a bad driver? A slut? A whore? She’s mildly shocked at how little those words affect her, especially when it’s in comparison to the sheer terror she’s feeling for Taehyung right now.

She’s just contemplating how she will face him and the rest of the group if it turns out that she’s the reason BTS goes from seven to six members, when he bumps her forehead with his. “Stop worrying,” he chides gently. “It’s happened now. We’ll see how it goes.”

Even as her heart races at the momentary proximity of their faces, she glares up at him. “I can’t stop worrying. You should be worrying,” she points out, jabbing him in the chest with the hand holding the icepack.

“You - ugh, you’re getting water on my shirt…”

The door behind them swings open then and she sees Taehyung’s head snap up, face going smooth, before she turns to see Namjoon walking in, Seokjin right behind him. Both of them stand up in unison and before she can register what’s happening, Taehyung is ushered out and into a meeting room.

“Wait, wait,” she says quickly, grabbing Namjoon’s arm. “What’s - who’s in there?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a couple of people from Red Bull and Big Hit,” he replies, in what she presumes is meant to be a reassuring tone. “They just want to know what happened. Although, Jaden is…” He trails off, and he winces uncomfortably.

“But what’s going to happen to - to Tae? What are they going to -”

“Dilara, relax,” says Namjoon hurriedly, starting to walk out of the room. “We have our reps. It should be over soon.”

That doesn’t sound comforting at all. “What is that supposed to - do they know it was Jaden’s fault? Apparently he said -” Here she breaks off, remembering suddenly that even she don’t know what he said.

Apparently taking advantage of her momentary silence, Namjoon starts to slip out. “He’ll be out soon,” he promises.

“Stop making it sound like prison!” she says loudly as they leave. Alone once again, she trudges out of the changing room to see…

“Shit,” she mutters, spotting her across the garage. “Vicki.”

Dilara’s press officer raises her eyebrows before beckoning her exactly like Namjoon did Taehyung, and just like her ex, she silently follows her into a secluded corner of the garage.

“Alright,” says Vicki, somehow managing to sound stern, knowing and worried all at once. “Please tell me you did not go out with someone from Max’s pit crew.”

—

“... and then he cornered me again yesterday to ask me why I wouldn’t go out with him -”

“Again?” Vicki shakes her head, incredulous. “Jesus, Dilara. Why didn’t you tell someone he was bothering you?”

“Because -” Dilara shrugs uncomfortably. “We’re racing. And it wasn’t a big deal.” When she catches sight of Vicki’s expression, she backtracks. “Okay, honestly? If he’d come up to me one more time, I probably would have.”

“You shouldn’t have to wait for that,” she declares in her usual business-like fashion. “But maybe you didn’t because he’s a member of the team…?” Vicki tilts her head knowingly.

Dilara’s face heats up. “I know it’s not technically against the rules,” she murmurs, only slightly guilty as she looks down at the floor. “But it’s stupid.”

Vicki observes her for a moment before nodding. “Still doesn’t give him the right to talk like an arsehole.”

“Okay, what did he say?” Dilara asks for what feels like the hundredth time. “Why won’t anyone just tell me?”

“Well, firstly because he said it in Korean,” she points out. “And secondly… you should ask your friends,” she adds, tilting her chin at something behind Dilara. She turns to see Jimin and Jungkook waiting at the end of the corridor, trying to look nonchalant but clearly waiting for her. The rush of affection she feels for them in that moment is overwhelming.

Dilara turns back to Vicki, not meeting her eyes. By the way she said “friends”, it’s clear she knows they aren’t just any friends. Or it’s because one of them hit a guy a member of the team. “What’s - what’s going to happen to - to Jaden?”

Vicki shrugs sympathetically. “They’re both in there,” she answers, and Dilara is grateful for how she includes Taehyung in it, too. “We’ll see. Don’t worry about it, Dilara. You have a race tomorrow,” she reminds her.

Dilara nods and watches as Vicki leaves after patting her shoulder, before turning around and walking towards Jimin and Jungkook. Suddenly aware of how much taller they are, she buries her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. “You guys want to go for a walk?” she asks in a small voice.

Even though they both nod instantly and Jungkook simply puts an arm around her shoulders, they only end up getting as far as the garage before Seokjin, who’s still outside the conference room, shakes his head silently as soon as he spots them. From this, she gathers that they’re still not in total privacy and she can’t be seen alone on a street with just two members and no production crew.

They slowly drift apart, taking seats on opposite sides of the garage. For the first time ever, Dilara initiated a conversation on Jimin’s silly WhatsApp group. Both of them reply immediately and she finally, finally gets the whole story.

They tell her how after their meeting, a couple of engineers had come in to use the printer for some data. One of them, Jaden, recognised them and greeted them in Korean, after which everyone else left, leaving only the eight of them in the room. It was small talk for a bit initially, with Taehyung hanging in the back and not participating at all, before Jaden really opened his mouth.

At this, Jungkook hesitates, wondering if Taehyung hyung should be the one to tell her. She informs them about the weird chivalrous trip Taehyung’s on and that she’s not getting a single answer out of him. After some silent begging and pleading from across the garage, Jimin visibly rolls his eyes and spills.

Jimin [19:41] He said he thought you were hot and it was good to finally having something nice to look at on the paddock

Jungkook [19:42] And he said that he went out with you in Yeongam and you… did stuff.

Dilara [19:43] Oh god. Seriously? He actually said that?

Jimin [19:44] Yeah. And then Namjoon said that we’ve all known you for a long time now and then Jaden asked if any of us had ever hooked up with you. Obviously we all said no.

Jungkook [19:45] Except Taehyung hyung. He just didn’t answer.

Jimin [19:46] Yeah, but Jaden didn’t notice. He said he thought you were cool initially but then you became kind of mean and you didn’t want to go out with him anymore.

Dilara [19:46] He said I was “mean”? That’s the word he used?

Across the garage, she can see Jimin look up at her apprehensively before glancing at Jungkook, who simply shrugs uncomfortably.

Dilara [19:46] Come on, what did he really say?

Jimin [19:47] He called you a spoiled brat… and a bitch. And he said that you turned him down after one date because you were still hung up on your ex.

Fuck. Dilara groans inwardly, Taehyung’s suppressed happiness and gentle yet confident caresses suddenly making sense. When she looks up at them, cringing visibly, she spots both of them biting back smug smiles.

Dilara [19:48] Shut up.

Jimin [19:49] Hilarious. Anyway, then Jin hyung tried to change the subject but Jaden brought it back to you again. He said if he’d known you were just good for one date, he would’ve gotten as much out of it as he could right then.

Jungkook [19:50] And then he… did a thing with his hand.

Dilara [19:51] So he’s a creep. Tae hit him because of this? Really?

Jimin [19:51] Well he said it in a lot more detail. But I can’t type that out.

Jungkook [19:52] Yeah, he called you a really bad word. And I can’t tell you. It’s in Korean and I can’t say it. It’s too horrible.

Huh. Dilara looks up to see Jungkook frowning at the screen, apparently troubled just at the thought of it. She wracks her brains for the worst thing a guy could call a girl in English. The more she thinks about it, the more she finds she doesn’t really want to know.

Jungkook [19:56] Anyway. Then out of nowhere, Taehyung punched him. Jaden got knocked back into the wall and I think his nose was bleeding.

Jimin [19:56] He deserves it. Who the fuck talks like that?

Dilara [19:57] And Tae? I saw his hand.

Jimin [19:57] Yeah, he was quite pissed. I haven’t seen him like that in a long time.

Dilara [19:58] Do you know what they’re talking about in there?

Jungkook [19:58] Not a clue. I think they’re just working on a way to keep it quiet.

Jungkook and Jimin launch into a discussion speculating what will happen now, whether their lawyers will get involved or whether they’ll try to resolve it right here, and if Jaden will try to make it a bigger deal. Dilara can’t participate; all she can think about is Taehyung in there, no idea what they’re talking about or what frame of mind he’s in. He’s smart and clever, but he’s also impulsive with his words. One wrong question or remark and he’ll respond with the snarkiest comment he can come up with, making the situation worse than it already is.

Jimin [20:03] Don’t worry, Dilara. This wasn’t your fault.

Dilara shakes her head, not caring that she’s this transparent. Jimin’s words, while technically what she needs to hear, don't help at all because, really - isn't it her fault? Wasn't Jaden a dick because of her, because she turned him down? Wasn't Taehyung being reckless because of how far she’s pushed him? Because she entered his life in the first place? Her thoughts spiral as she imagines being the sole reason for BTS's negative publicity, for their hate, for their disbandment -

Her phone pings again, but from a different contact. The moment she sees Namjoon's display icon, she dives for the phone.

Namjoon [20:08] Hey. You alright?

Dilara [20:08] What is going on in there? How are you texting?

Namjoon [20:08] Hard to say. And Christian got a phone call that he had to pick up.

Dilara [20:09] Damnit. How's Tae?

Namjoon [20:09] Pretty calm.

Dilara [20:09] That’s… not good. Right? Or is it?

Namjoon [20:10] No, he's not going overboard. I was there - I kind of get why he got so mad.

Dilara [20:10] Really?

Namjoon [20:11] Yeah. I mean, not mad enough to punch a guy in the face.

There’s a rolling eyes emoji at the end of the message. Dilara feels a tingling in her fingers and a prickle of defensiveness.

Dilara [20:12] I guess if a guy had said that about Kaya, you wouldn't have done the same.

She doesn’t phrase it like a question; she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s challenging him… even though she kind of is. Dilara watches the ellipses appear to indicate that he’s typing. He types for a while, nearly a minute, pausing constantly. Finally, the message appears.

Namjoon [20:14] Yeah, I would’ve broken his face.

Mildly satisfied, she places the phone down and waits. Jimin and Jungkook have stopped their bickering on the group, too, but she makes a mental note to thank them later, genuinely and profusely, for being so nice to her when she’s been anything but.

It’s nearly thirty more minutes of excruciating waiting, with Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook sitting with her. She hasn't the faintest where Yoongi and Hoseok are; she’s about to ask Jin about it, just to distract herself, when the door opens and Christian comes out.

Dilara leaps to her feet automatically, thoroughly relieved when his eyes land on her instantly and he beckons her to follow him. She jogs after him until they’re out of earshot and he turns to her, suddenly looking taller.

“Has Jaden been harassing you, Dilara?” The first question out of his mouth throws her for a loop.

“Has he -” She swallows, biting her lip. “Why - um, what have you heard?”

“That he’s been harassing you.” Christian folds his arms across his chest. “Vicki just told us. It changes everything.”

Her heart skips a beat. “Changes what? What - what do you mean? What happened? What’s going to happen to -”

“Well, Jaden has been fired,” he begins, placing his hands on his hips. “He was a good engineer, but…” He shakes his head. “We can’t have a person on the team who treats a woman like that. It would be a publicity nightmare.” His eyes snap up to her. “And it’s incredibly disrespectful to you, too, of course.”

Dilara nods, somewhat in a daze. “So, he’s… fired? Just like that? What if he goes to the press?”

“He’s signing an NDA. If he wants his severance and doesn’t want to be blacklisted, he’ll sign it.” Christian’s confidence seems dangerously unbalanced. “Plus, Big Hit would lose millions if they broke the contract now. And also, apparently, the negative publicity would be enormous if it got out that their employee was being punished for defending his… friend.”

By the way he says it, she knows she’s been made. “Christian…”

“He was the same bloke that miraculously found you on the middle of the road in Monza, was he not?”

Dilara swallows. “He was. Look, it’s not -”

“I don’t want to know.”

“No, you don’t -”

“No, I genuinely don’t want to know.” He looks at her knowingly - too knowingly. “It’s better,” he says, slower this time, “if I don’t know.” When she nods hesitantly, he pats her shoulder once. “Right. Your friend… I think he should be fine. But in the future, Dilara,” he adds, suddenly sounding tired, “do let us know if a team member is creating a hostile work environment, will you?”

Dilara nods silently as he walks away, at the last minute telling her to go home and rest for the race tomorrow. She has no intention of going anywhere, though, not until she hears from Namjoon himself that this is over. Not Christian, not even Taehyung - Namjoon. Only him.

The next two minutes are unbearable. She walks back slowly to where she was seated before to see Seokjin, Jimin and Jungkook waiting for her expectantly.

“Well?” Jimin prompts urgently.

“Um… he’s - he’s signing an NDA,” is all that comes out of her mouth. When all three of them look completely confused, she doesn’t know where to begin. “He said Jaden - Jaden signed an NDA and I think he said that Tae -”

At that moment, the conference room door opens and three people spill out: Taehyung, with a Korean man in a suit next to him, and Namjoon a step behind. To her immense relief, the latter strides over to them first thing. He says something in Korean, to which all three of them sigh loudly in relief. Heart hammering, Dilara looks up at him and tugs on his sleeve.

“What?” she asks quietly, desperately.

“He’s off the hook,” says Namjoon in English, clearly trying to keep his own smile under control, even as the dimples pop on his cheeks. "He's going to get a warning from the company, but since it won't get out… it'll be okay. It’ll be okay,” he repeats, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly.

Dilara swallows with difficulty, the words suddenly making no sense. “He’s -” She clears her throat, unable to tear her eyes away from Taehyung. His eyes meet hers for a fraction of a second over the man’s shoulder, but his expression is as unreadable as ever. “He’s not kicked out of the group?”

Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “You would think… but no.” He chuckles. “I’m kidding. We have some pretty good lawyers, you know?”

She doesn’t comment on how ominous that sounds. Next to her, Jungkook is rubbing his eyes, smiling in embarrassment. She can’t see what Seokjin and Jimin are doing behind her, and she only vaguely registers someone patting the top of her head.

Ahead of them, the man in the suit is finally walking away. Taehyung says something to him as he leaves but she doesn’t want to wait any longer. She turns to Namjoon.

“Can I… I mean, do you mind if we…”

Namjoon doesn’t look surprised at this unfinished request. He glances at Taehyung, who’s now slowly walking up to them, and nods. “Just… I mean, I don’t want to be that guy, but…” He shrugs apologetically “… one minute. We need to get on a conference call after this.”

She nods mutely and waits for all of them to vacate the garage before finally, finally facing Taehyung.

He stands before her, a respectful few feet between them, his hands in his pockets and looking breathtakingly handsome. He looks expectant, defiant - but above all, he looks relieved. It suddenly reminds her of how he’d looked at her nearly two years ago in the Suzuka paddock, before they’d ever exchanged a single word.

Taehyung exhales shakily, and something snaps in her. All the anxiety of the weekend rushes into her chest at the same time and she tilts her head slightly, taking a step forward as though on autopilot. He nods silently and meets her halfway, and they wrap their arms around each other in an emotional hug.

Taehyung displays none of the hesitation he’d shown in the kitchen a week ago. His long hair brushes against her cheek where he’s buried his face in her neck, breathing now slightly uneven and she knows that despite his cool exterior, he was worried, too. She tightens her arms around his shoulders, gripping his shirt and pressing her forehead against his collarbone.

“You’re such an idiot, Kim Taehyung,” she murmurs shakily, savouring the familiar scent of lotion and spicy cologne. Christian Dior Sauvage, she remembers, tilting her face and inhaling slightly.

Taehyung nods, squeezing her waist with one hand. “I know,” he whispers against her skin, voice deep and reverberating in her ear.

Every bit of frustration, exasperation, gratitude and all the unnamed feelings she’s pushed deep down threaten to resurface. There’s so much she wants to tell him, and this is it. She doesn’t know how to tell him more; when she feels his lips press against the skin just below her ear, as though instinctive, she feels an old familiar warmth in her abdomen and she doesn’t want it to go anywhere.

Dilara vaguely registers voices, a cue that causes them to begrudgingly separate. There’s some bustling; a phone call, some instructions in Korean, and Namjoon beckoning to his members. Dilara quietly takes her leave, trying not to think about how tightly she and Taehyung held each other or how her fingers slipped out of his hand when she left.

—

Dilara is woken by the sound of raucous laughter outside that abruptly dies down when someone shushes them. She groans softly; it’s still dark outside and the time on her phone indicates that she’s been asleep for less than an hour.

She hadn’t returned to the house after leaving the paddock. Too buzzed to be by herself, she’d headed straight to the hotel where the rest of the drivers were staying. A couple of the drivers had been playing FIFA and she’d piled on, making every effort to distract herself from the events of the day. She’d come back to the house an hour ago, sneaking in and going straight to her room and crashing.

It was a fairly uncomfortable sleep, mostly because there’s something nagging on her mind, something she’s forgetting. Dilara can’t put her finger on it; she knows it has to do with Taehyung and what happened today, but everything else escapes her. She shifts restlessly in her bed, trying to go back to sleep - but the damage is done, and she’s wide awake..

Even after the voices outside dwindle down one by one before disappearing altogether and the light under the door turns off, she still can’t sleep.

It’s after midnight when she checks her phone again, opening WhatsApp and checking for new messages. Apart from three messages from Jimin timed around the time they reached the house (Hey we got piri piri chicken! Okay Yoongi hyung just said you’re probably asleep. Good night :)), there’s nothing else.

She thinks for a second, then goes onto the Taehyung’s true loves group. The last message is a joke from Jimin that he’d cracked to try and cheer her up.

Dilara [00:09] Hey guys. Just wanted to say thanks for today. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to be around but you guys were really there for me so… thank you.

Jimin [00:15] No need to thank us but fine, you can buy us ice cream tomorrow.

Dilara [00:15] I can? Aren’t you both dieting?

Jungkook [00:16] We can give it up for one ice cream. And you can join us in the gym when we burn it off.

Dilara [00:17] Deal. And um

Jungkook [00:17] What?

Jungkook [00:18] Oh yeah. Taehyung was looking for you when we got back.

Dilara [00:19] Oh. Right. I was asleep.

Jimin [00:19] You’re not anymore.

Dilara [00:20] And?

Jimin [00:20] And he’s awake too.

Dilara can almost picture Jimin’s smirk as he dances around the topic. Fortunately, Jungkook comes to her rescue.

Jungkook [00:21] Yes but you have a race tomorrow, Dilara. You should sleep.

Dilara [00:21] I will. Thank you Jungkook.

Jungkook [00:22] You’re welcome. And while we’re on the topic of thank yous, I think Taehyung hyung is the one you should really be saying that to.

Oh. Of course. Dilara sighs as it finally clicks, what she’s been forgetting. She’s snapped at him, confessed her worries to him, dropped her defences and embraced him - but she hasn’t thanked him, not yet.

Now that she’s realised it, she knows she can’t sleep. She considers texting him, but she doesn’t know if that would seem too impersonal, especially after the emotional hug they shared. What does she do instead, though? Ask him to meet her outside? That feels like far too much pressure.

Jesus. Dilara climbs out of bed and heads to the kitchen, silently opening the fridge and taking her first drink of water in hours. This is Taehyung, she thinks, leaning against the kitchen island. Nothing about him warrants this much overthinking. Pulling out her phone from her pajamas’ pocket, she texts him.

Dilara [00:30] Hey.

Tae [00:32] Hey.

Dilara [00:33] How’s your hand?

Tae [00:33] Hurting a bit. Why aren’t you asleep?

Dilara [00:34] I couldn’t. You should stop texting though, if your hand hurts.

Tae [00:35] I can type with my left hand. Don’t you have a race tomorrow?

Dilara [00:36] Yeah. I’ve raced with less sleep though. Why aren’t you asleep?

Tae [00:36] I’m in bed.

A familiar flutter erupts in her chest, and her toes curl on the wooden floor. Without warning, an image of a shirtless Taehyung in boxer shorts, glasses on, lying on his side with his phone in one hand appears in her mind. She’s willing to bet a thousand bucks that that’s how he looks right now, before she remembers that a lot of things could have changed in a year.

Dilara [00:37] That’s too bad. We’ll talk tomorrow then.

Tae [00:37] We can talk now too.

Dilara [00:38] Nah, it’s more of an in-person conversation.

Tae [00:38] You know we live in the same house, right?

Dilara bites her lip, trying to stop the smile from spreading on her face. She starts walking towards her room, her heart suddenly beating faster. Stopping in front of her room, she leans against the closed door.

Dilara [00:39] I’m aware.

Tae [00:40] But no. You need to sleep.

He’s flirting. It’s been so long since Kim Taehyung has flirted with her this confidently that she’s forgotten how much of a blushing mess she becomes, being thankful only for the fact that it’s never visible on her face. She gazes absently at the closet door in front of her, trying to think of a response.

Dilara [00:41] Yeah, I do. I’ll probably need to sleep after the race tomorrow too, because it’s always so tiring.

Tae [00:42] You can sleep on the train to Amsterdam. It’s going to be a long trip.

Dilara [00:42] Probably. I’m sure I’ll find someone to keep me company.

Tae [00:43] Seven of us not enough for you?

I really only need one. But she doesn’t say it. It’s far too risky.

Dilara [00:45] That's a lot of talk for someone who barely escaped getting in trouble today. Or who knows how much you would've regretted it?

Tae [00:45] I won't regret anything I do for you.

Dilara closes her eyes and leans her head back against the door, suddenly feeling warm. She wonders briefly if the conversation is venturing into unfamiliar territory - or, rather, an all-too familiar territory.

She stares at the closet door in front of ber, hoping for inspiration, when it suddenly opens to, once again, reveal none other than Taehyung himself, pulling on a white t-shirt as he steps out.

The combination of her surprise, his presence and the generous glimpse of lean, honey-coloured torso is enough to make her stumble and drop her phone. “Shit,” she mutters, averting her eyes and bending to pick it up. She looks up to see him frowning, knees bent as though about to help her up.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung glances between her and his door. “What were you doing outside my room?”

“I - that’s your room? I thought it was a closet,” she admits in slight embarrassment, feeling her heart rate slowly go back to normal.

He nods, looking amused. “You really couldn’t sleep, huh?”

Dilara tilts her head, twisting her mouth to hide her smile. “I thought we already discussed that.” She can’t stop looking at him, privately admiring how incredible he looks even in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, hair unstyled, face bare with a pair of black glasses perched on his nose. I was right, she thinks, mildly victorious.

“We did. But now that you’re here…” He trails off pointedly, wiggling his eyebrows at her until she stifles a laugh. He grins, and her stomach does a backflip.

"I was just going to get back to bed," she tells him, and he simply nods. She doesn't move, though, and neither does he. His gaze is his usual intense one: unmoving, like a laser looking into her soul. She tries to hold it for as long as she can but when it becomes too much, she drops her gaze. "Can I see your hand?" she asks, mostly for something to say.

Wordlessly, he raises his right hand and she takes it. She can't really see anything; she brushes her fingers extremely lightly over his knuckles but he still hisses softly.

"Sorry," she mutters apologetically. "It's too dark here… can we go to the window?"

He follows her a few steps away to the end of the hallway, where the house splits into a T, one room on either side. There's a window on the wall, though, wide and tall, with a near full moon causing a silvery light to stream in.

Dilara picks up his hand again and it makes sense now why he flinched. His knuckles are still an angry red, with scratches on the third and fourth joints. Her fingers ghost over his hand, but she’s careful not to touch him. When she hears his sharp intake of breath, she pauses before bringing both their hands down, fingers lightly intertwined momentarily before separating.

"I still can't believe you," she murmurs, shaking her head, but the disapproving tone is gone.

"I'm good at surprising people," he replies. He leans his side against the window and folds his arms across his chest, careful to keep his injured hand on the outside.

"Not just you." She doesn't look away from him. "Jimin and Jungkook told me what Jaden said." Predictably, his jaw clenches and his eyes blaze but the rest of his face stays unmoving. “I knew he was a jerk, but… yeah, I guess I’m surprised by how far he went.”

Taehyung observes her for a moment. “You still think he didn’t deserve it?”

Dilara reaches for his hand again, pointedly looking at his bruised knuckles. Thanks for defending me, she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat.

“Can you even hold a mic with this hand? You’re performing in a few days,” she reminds him, referring to the charity concert in Amsterdam scheduled for the coming Friday - one she’ll be missing because of her race in Russia.

“Hm, let’s check.” Taehyung gently pulls away to pick up her hand, wrapping his injured hand around her wrist and showing her how his fingers easily meet.

“Is that how you hold your mic?”

He smirks and tugs, bringing ber hand right up to his face… right up to his mouth. “This is how I hold my mic.” There’s a moment where she thinks he’s going to kiss her hand and she feels her heart race in anticipation. But after a moment, he lets go, smiling wider as though he knows exactly what’s going on in her mind.

Dilara wants to playfully smack him. Thanks for making me laugh. He’s flirting so blatantly, and she has to remind herself that amidst all the shit Jaden said, he did basically confirm to Taehyung that she’s not over him.

“Your fans will be very worried when they see you’ve been injured. I can almost see the hashtags on Twitter,” she continues, gesturing grandly. “Stay Strong Taehyung, or We support Taehyung and his gorgeous, injured, sexy hand.”

He laughs, and it suddenly feels warmer. “They will be worried,” he agrees, cocking his head, “but I’m sure even they’ll agree that it was worth it. You know, given that he’s been bothering you for weeks now, and today was just the finale.”

Dilara’s smile fades. “Vicki told you,” she guesses, sighing when he nods. “Well… yeah. Like I said, I knew he was a jerk.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Jinjja, Dilara,” he says, and her heart skips a beat at the sound of her name on his tongue. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Oh, really? So I was supposed to come to you and tell you that this guy I hooked up with suddenly won’t leave me alone?” She scoffs. “That would’ve gone well.”

He shrugs. “Why not? Whatever happened between us, it doesn’t matter if something is making you uncomfortable. And besides, it didn’t have to be me, you know.”

She barely hears his last sentence. Thanks for caring about me. “Fine. The next time a guy starts bothering me, I’ll make sure to keep you updated.”

“Good. I’ll keep my fists ready,” he says wryly, bringing his thin fists to his face and blowing on them.

“Maybe I’ll actually get Jungkook to teach you how to punch by then.”

“I’d rather you teach me.”

It’s predictable but Dilara’s cheeks heat up anyway, and his face breaks into a gorgeous grin. She looks down at their feet, and realises they’ve sub-consciously moved closer to each other. The moment she thinks of it, the scent of lotion and faint cologne suddenly grows stronger, and she gets the urge to sink into his chest and spend the night curled up in his arms. The thought of waking up warm and cuddled makes her yawn, and she quickly covers it up.

“You really should sleep.” Taehyung reaches over and gently ruffles her bangs, his old way of playfully banter before doing something really soft, usually beginning with pulling her to him and hugging her while she jokingly protested.

It makes her heart ache, the slow realisation that she still cares so much about him, that there’s nothing that can take away from the once-in-a-life-time connection they found with each other.

She still needs to thank him. Dilara can’t say the words, though; it seems inadequate somehow, given the risk he took, the impulse to do something so unlike him. She reaches up and slowly brushes a lock of blond hair out of his eyes, touching the corner of his glasses.

They’re close enough now, enough that she won’t take him by surprise. She hopes she’s right when she brings her other hand up and gently holds the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft, long hair.

Dilara gives Taehyung a moment to catch on, noting how he swallows and all traces of joking disappear, leaving only an almost childlike hope and vulnerability. Then, rising on her toes, she gently pulls his head down and presses her lips to his.

Like the time they reached their understanding of sorts in the kitchen, it takes him a moment to respond, almost as though he can’t quite believe this is real. Dilara waits until he kisses her back, tilting his head and leaning in, before opening her mouth. His lips part with a sigh and she wants to do the same - so familiar and addictive is his taste. His king hair tickles her cheek as his hands come up to hold her, gently and tentatively.

Taehyung’s lips are everything she remembers them being; soft, energetic, loving. It’s a slow, savouring kiss. With how unexpected it was, they simply take the time to reacquaint themselves. Dilara is glad, she thinks as they separate to catch their breath and she presses a last kiss to his lips before pulling away, for if it were anything more, she doesn't think she’d be able to stop herself.

Taehyung looks… overwhelmed. His lips are slightly swollen and he absently bites his lower lip, his eyes shining with ten times more hope and pleasant shock than the photoshoot earlier this week.

“Thanks,” she says softly, not specifying what for. Taking a step back and trying to ignore how her heart is zooming, she starts walking back to her room, still aware of him watching her go. Just when she reaches her door, she remembers something.

“Oh, and, uh…” This is awkward, and her heart thuds. Trying to be casual and shrug it off in the face of his motionless figure, she speaks once more. “You can… Dilara sounds a bit weird. Lara is fine.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtaninn #bangtanbathhouse #bangtanoasis #musicbingo23 #kvanity #bangtanwhq #bangtantheatrenet #wkcnet #bts v fanfic #bts v angst

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inverswayart · 25 days

Text

The Fallout OC Seven Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L.

for some reason this part turned out to be really hard to write for?? so if something feels off it's probably because i didn't want to spend another day rewriting same few sentenses. oh well

Day 3 - Endurance

Sinclair

10 - Unstoppable | Burden to Bear, Tough Guy

What is your OC’s overall fitness level? Sinclair has spent the last couple of years on the run, constantly moving and fighting all kinds of critters and humans - and then there’s also his time at Sierra Madre and Big MT; he is overall pretty fit, but with a touch of constant stress, exhaustion and a very unpredictable diet.

How long can they exert themself before tiring? Very, very long - Sinclair’s got mad stamina, and is generally that mythic guy who can reliably achieve runner’s high. It’s also one of the reasons he prefers to travel with ED-E only - his other companions oftentimes just can’t keep up with his mad marches through the desert.

Are they good at swimming, sprinting, running or climbing? Sinclair’s not that great with climbing (due to lack of depth perception and bad experience in his youth) and sprinting (he’s just not fast enough for it) but he is pretty good swimmer (his home settlement was near small river and he had plenty of practice) and he has just the right kind of stamina to be essentially a marathon runner.

How well can they adapt to environmental pressures? Relatively well - on one hand, Sinclair’s better at dealing with cold rather than heat and some of his old scars are weather-sensitive. On the other hand, he’s just got very high pain threshold and tolerance, and also he can just be incredibly stubborn and will himself through many kinds of discomfort. After his time at the Big MT he also got poison filters embedded in his spine and heart implants and so many critters of the desert became way easier to deal with for him.

Innocence

4 - Handle With Care | Travel Light, Day Tripper

What is your OC’s overall fitness level? Slightly above average. There was no way running around Mojave wouldn’t count as a pretty intense workout, though Ino generally took relatively short routes, often hitched rides with caravans and generally didn’t particularly bothered with exceeding her own limits for work’s sake. So while she keeps herself in good condition, she is in no way a fitness model - especially after the Goodsprings as she took to drinking and chems to self-medicate.

How long can they exert themself before tiring? Ino wasn’t that durable to begin with - cushy life at Vault doesn’t get you much endurance built - but after getting shot it got even worse. Not only does she get exhausted after a few hours walking, exhaustion is accompanied by headache, and, to top it off, Benny’s bullet got Ino severe insomnia, so she has hard time resting even when completely drained. It got alleviated a bit after she got to Vegas and Followers fixed her better meds than occasional mentats she was taking, but even so she’s still not fit for long tracks.

Are they good at swimming, sprinting, running or climbing? While Ino knows how to swim - Vault had a nice swimming pool - she is neither a fast swimmer nor a diver. Climbing’s also kinda hard with her noodle arms and she has no stamina for marathon running. What Ino’s good at is sprinting - she’s light at her feet and can move very quickly as long as the distance is not that long.

How well can they adapt to environmental pressures? Ino is surprisingly good at dealing with both heat and chill even after getting screwed up by a bullet to the head, though it left her with a different problem - it’s not a temperature, but any significant change of it (and weather in general) gives her headaches and, in worse cases, nausea.

#tag for art #tag for ocs #tag for words #fanart #doodle #fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #courier sinclair #innocence bennett #fallout oc seven day special

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albertasunrise · 1 year

Note

Maybe a story where the boys find Frankie who has overdosed, maybe at one of the fights? Just something small that focuses on their amazing friendships.

No OC(Reader) just the boys. :)

Fight Night

Masterlist

Notes: Loved this request as soon as I saw it so hoped straight onto the Macintosh to type it up 🙊 Hope you enjoy it hun!!

Fight night meant watching Ben either kick the crap out of some guy or get his ass handed to him. It was always a good distraction from the depressing realities of life and the beer was plenty.

"You ready to kick some ass Benny boy." Said Frankie as he bounced on the toes of his feed.

Will couldn't help but notice that Fish was more energetic than usual. The pilot was always in Ben's corner, cheering him on so that wasn't anything new but he seemed to have a new lease of life in him all of a sudden. Not something you'd expect from a new father.

"Damn fucking right I am!" Ben answered, slapping his friend on the back before grabbing his gloves.

"Right, well we should get out there." Said Will as he motioned to the door.

Ben practically skipped out of the locker room, his brothers-in-arms hot on his heels. Santi was up in front with the younger Miller, pumping the man up as Will hung back with Fish. Keeping a close eye on him as they made their way to the arena. He had his suspicions as to why the pilot was so energetic he just hoped he was wrong. The idea that he was on the sauce again made the soldier's stomach twist. Frank had done so well to get off of that stuff. His wife had played such a key part in that but when she'd gotten pregnant unexpectedly, the man had taken on extra hours in a desperate attempt to bring in enough money to support his new family.

Entering the arena, people clapped, screamed and chanted as the fighter made his entrance. The men wished Ben luck and then made their way over to their seats, Santi stopping by the bar to grab a round on the way. The atmosphere was electric and as soon as the bell rang, any concern over Fish's newfound energy was soon forgotten. The first round was drunk quickly and Will was sent to get the next. Manoeuvring his way through the crowd, he noticed that Frankie was missing.

"Where's Fish?" He asked Santi and the man pointed with his thumb.

"Bathroom."

Will nodded as he handed the man his drink before taking a sip of his own. Frankie joined them again a few moments later seeming even more wired than he had been before and Will's brow drew together in concern as he watched the man grab his refreshed been and take a long pull.

"How's Ben doing?" He asked Santi as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

"He's holding his own." Santi answered before screaming at Ben to "HIT HIM!"

A loud roar pulled tore Will's attention away from the pilot and back to the Arena. Ben and his opponent were right in the rough of it, battling for the match and Will knew he had to focus on his brother then. He yelled and whooped as Ben planted a few sure punches that had his opponent stumbling back.

"COME ON BEN!" Yelled Frank, punching the air as he watched the younger Miller plant his final blow.

The man hit the ground like a sack of rocks, head thumping on the ground and then the bell rang. The match was over. Will was then up in the ring and hugging his younger sibling. Ben ate up the applause, loving the sound of his name being chanted by the hundreds of people that had come to watch the fight. Then he was led to the locker room again by his brother so that he could shower and clean up.

Tonight had gone exactly as he had hoped it would and he was sure that nothing could possibly ruin it.

Oh, how wrong he would end up being.

Will and Ben had returned to Santi along and nursing his fourth beer of the evening. It was Ben's turn to be concerned. Just as he was heading out of the arena, he noticed Frank slip off to the bathroom. That was over fifteen minutes ago.

"Fish still in the can?" Ben asked as his eyes scanned the area in the hope that maybe his friend had bumped into someone he knew.

"Probably taking a dump." Santi joked but Will and Ben didn't laugh.

"You not notice how... Well, not Frankie like he's been acting this evening?" Will asked and Pope waved him off.

"He's just excited for Ben."

"Nah, Will's right." Ben pipped up, grabbing the men's attention "I saw him only a few days ago and the guy was exhausted. Baby isn't sleeping and the tour company is working him into the ground. The guy should be a zombie."

"I'm sure he's good." Poped sighed but truthfully he knew the guys were right.

"I'm gonna go find him." Ben stated after a few tense moments of silence.

The others didn't have a chance to respond before the fighter was pushing his way through the sea of bodies in his path, desperate to make it to Frank. Reaching the bathrooms he noticed the men's room was in use and a few people were queuing outside of it. Upon reaching it Ben noted how impatient most of the people were and he knew they'd been waiting a while.

"Dude there's a line." The guy at the front of the line spat but Ben grabbed his shoulders and he soon shut up.

"The guy that went in there, what did he look like?" He asked and the man's mouth opened and closed rapidly like a fish out of water.

"He uh... He was tall, with brown curly hair and a cap." The man replied and Ben knew instantly that it was Frankie.

He started banging on the door, ignoring the other people calling for him to get in line.

"Fish... Come on I know you're in there. Open up!" He called out but he got no response in return and his stomach twisted painfully at what that could mean "FISH!"

He looked back at Will and Santi who both adorned similar expressions to his own. Sharing a silent conversation, they nodded at the younger man who wasted no time taking a few steps back before kicking the door in.

What greeted him made his knees go weak.

Frankie was laying on the tacky carpet, eyes open and chest barely moving. The smell of vomit assaulted his senses as he fell to his friend's side but he had to ignore that.

"Fish... Fish, can you hear me?" He called out as he tapped the man's cheek in an attempt to rouse him.

Will and Santi had too joined Ben in his attempts to bring Frankie around but they all failed. Pressing two fingers to his friend's neck, he found it to be weak. Frankie's eyes grew a little wider and Ben dropped his ear to the man's mouth, looking as if he were hoping to hear the man speak when in truth, it was to confirm his suspicions.

"No, Fish. Come on... You gotta break you asshole." He groaned as he started compressions "Don't you fucking die on me you piece of shit." He snapped.

"What the hell happened?" Will yelled as he ran his hands through his hair, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

Santi was on his feet and pulling out his phone in the blink of an eye. Taking deep and measured breaths in an attempt to keep himself from losing it completely. He was soon shouting down the phone for an ambulance to get there quickly, firing away their location as he paced the small space he inhabited. Then he stopped.

"Guys. I know what this is." He said lowly as he grabbed something off the counter and showed it to the other others "He's relapsed."

"Shit."

"Come on Frankie." Ben pleaded as he continued compressions, tears falling freely as he watched Frankie's eyes start to flutter.

"He needs oxygen." Will stated as he got to his feet "Medic has to have some."

Santi watched as the blonde sprinted from the room, pushing past the onlookers who now watched as Ben desperately tried to keep his best friend alive. In any other circumstances, he would have told them to fuck off but right now, all he could focus on was his friend.

"Come on Catfish." He begged as he cupped his friend's face in an attempt to pull the man back "Just keep breathing brother. That's all you need to do."

"GET OUT OF THE WAY." Shouted Will as he practically dragged the first aider through.

The man was armed with a bag in one hand and an oxygen canister in the other. Ben moved to make way for the man, watching as he strapped an oxygen mask to Frankie's face.

"What's he taken?" The man asked and Ben struggled to say the words.

Fortunately, Santi said them for him.

"Coke." He stated plainly. His anger with Frankie was clear in his tone.

"Has an ambulance been called?"

As if on cue, the paramedics raced into view. Forcing everyone out of the bathroom so they could work. Ben clutched to the doorway as he watched them stabilise his friend. Silently begging a diety that he didn't believe in to save his friend.

The EMTs were throwing out a bunch of medical jargon that the men only caught snippets of but when Frankie's body went rigid, they caught every word.

"He's seizing."

Frank's body seemed to almost levitate off the ground as the fit tore through his body. Bloody foam leaked from the corner of his mouth and Ben felt his legs give out, his brother catching him before he fell.

"He's bit his tongue."

The seizure ended as abruptly as it started and then the machine that Frankie had been hooked up to blared out a new tone.

"He's coding." The paramedics sprung into action then.

Grabbing different equipment needed to bring the pilot back. Will held his brother as he shook, his own heart breaking at the sight of his friend dying on a dingy bathroom floor. Pope couldn't watch. He had hoped that he would never have to witness this. After Frankie had quit the stuff, he had convinced himself that that was it. It had never crossed his mind that the man might relapse.

But then, he'd been away a while.

He had come back for a few days for a meeting at the DEA office in Dallas, Texas. It had been a happy coincidence that Ben had a fight whilst he was in the country.

"Clear!" Called out one of the medics as they placed the paddles on Frankie's check.

Ben sobbed openly then as he watched Fish's body arch off the ground as they shocked him. Everyone waited on bated breath for the tone to change. It didn't.

"Going again." Stated the medic as he brought the paddles down again and Ben tried to look away, he didn't want or need to see this.

The pilot's body arched again and then finally, the machine started to play a different tune.

"He's back."

Things were a blur then.

Frankie was being piled into the back of the ambulance and Ben was following him. Will said something to his younger sibling but it was all background noise. All Ben could focus on was Frankie who was laying on the gurney across from him. He held his friend's hand tightly as the ambulance roared to life and then they were speeding away.

This is now how the night was supposed to go.

Four hours later, Ben was standing in a glass room in the ICU, holding Frankie's girlfriend as she sobbed into his shirt. Will was stroking the pilot's hair as he talked softly to the man who was hooked up to a myriad of machines keeping him alive.

He'd had a further three seizures and had crashed again since arriving. The group had been told that the doctors had done all they could and it was just a case of hoping. Frankie had to fight.

Plain and simple.

Santiago stood outside, watching the heartbreaking matinee from the corridor. He was feeling a mixture of emotions. Anger, worry and heartbreak being the key players. He just didn't understand why Frankie had thought that this was a good way of coping with his increased workload. Looking at his oldest friend laying there, face partly obscured by the thick tube down his throat, Santi decided that he needed to do something to help his friends. It was clear that life was kicking them down and he'd had enough. He left without saying goodbye. Something that he would regret in the weeks that followed.

Will pulled back to give Frankie's girlfriend a chance to stand with her love. She cupped his cheek with a shaky hand and leaned over to kiss his brow. There was no anger like Ben had expected. Only love.

"Francisco, baby if you can hear me." She started as she rested her brow on his "I need you to know that I'm not mad. I'm not angry at you and I promise you that if you fight this and come back to me... We'll work the rest out together."

She paused a moment. The ventilator and the heart monitor mingled to create a gut wrenching tune that made Ben's heart squeeze tightly in his chest. He hated that he'd not noticed how his best friend had been suffering. Hated that Frankie hadn't felt like he could tell him.

"You need to fight, mi Amor." She continued, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth "Sophia needs her Papi to wake up." She sobbed before taking his hand and bringing it to her quivering lips "I need you to wake up."

Ben was at her side in a heartbeat. Holding her as she sobbed openly. His eyes drifted to Franky whose skin tone was almost the same shade of white as the pillow beneath his head.

"We're all here brother." He piped up as he placed a comforting hand on Frank's leg "You rest. Get all the rest you need and then when you wake up. We'll help you get over this hump." He pledged "We're brothers Fish and we love you."

"So much." Will finished for his brother as he clasped Frank's other hand, careful not to disturb the wires and tubes attached to it.

Frankie woke up two weeks later.

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pxnsneverland · 10 months

Text

Don’t Be Cruel | austin!elvis x oc (part 1)

plot summary: Angel Casteel is a small town girl who lucked into working as a makeup artist at a film studio. Unfortunately, her confidence in herself wavers as she is assigned to work with Elvis on his latest motion picture. Overcome by his star power at first, she slowly starts to realize there is a man behind the fame, a man she understands. But as they grow closer, the world grows more turbulent, especially Elvis's world. Will this Angel be able to save Elvis from himself and the people around him? Or will getting mixed up in his word prove to be her downfall as well?

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 3088

warnings/notes: Hello my burning loves! Here is my new Elvis fic. Hopefully you guys like it as much as the first. This one focuses more on Elvis's later life than the last one did. Enjoy :)

Chapter 1

In the sprawling metropolis of Los Angeles, where dreams were born and shattered with equal fervor, a whisper of doubt hung in the air. It seemed inconceivable, unfathomable even, that a young woman hailing from the humble townships of Alabama could find her place amidst the dazzling lights and towering skyscrapers of this urban jungle. Yet, hidden beneath the veil of skepticism, a flicker of determination burned within my heart. I had grown up amidst the rolling fields and close-knit community of a small Alabama town, where the pace of life was gentle and the ambitions modest. But within me, there had an insatiable hunger for something more, a yearning to break free from the confines of familiarity and Nobody, not even my mom and dad believed in me. Perhaps, they had been right all along. After all, I was just a humble makeup artist working for a renowned movie studio. In the quaint little town, I called home, where the days seemed to stretch on endlessly, I found solace in the art of makeup. It became my personal escape, a pastime that allowed me to express my creativity and add a touch of glamour to my otherwise mundane existence. You see, entertainment options were scarce in our humble abode, with the weekly bingo games at Benny's being the highlight of our social calendar. Benny's, a charming establishment, stood proudly as one of the two restaurants in town, offering a respite from the monotony of our everyday lives. Personally, I delved into the world of cosmetics, teaching myself the intricacies of contouring, blending, and highlighting. It was a journey of self-discovery, a path I treaded with unwavering determination. As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, my skills blossomed. I experimented with vibrant eyeshadows that danced across my eyelids like strokes of an artist's brush. I perfected the art of winged eyeliner, the flick at the end of my eyes imbuing me with a sense of confidence I had never known before. And oh, the joy of finding the perfect shade of lipstick, a hue that could transform my entire demeanor with just a single swipe. While others sought their thrills in the boisterous bingo games, I found my own brand of excitement. I had honed my skills to such a degree that, when the time came for me to relocate, fortune smiled upon me, and I unexpectedly stumbled upon a position at a high-profile salon. One day, a lady who worked at a movie studio came in and was so delighted with my work that she offered me a job making actors seem breathtakingly gorgeous or simply awful depending on the role. Life was far from elaborate, each day blending into the next with a monotonous rhythm. Yet, amidst the simplicity, I found contentment. Against all odds, I had managed to carve out a path that stretched far beyond the boundaries of my humble beginnings. It was a leap of faith, a decision to uproot myself from the familiar and venture miles away from the place I once called home.

As I strolled along the winding pathways of the bustling studio, my mind was consumed with a whirlwind of thoughts. Each step I took brought me closer to my latest assignment, igniting a sense of anticipation within me. The air was thick with creative energy, as fellow artists immersed themselves in their respective projects. The vibrant atmosphere seemed to fuel my imagination, as I pondered the task that lay ahead. I found myself transfixed, my gaze locked upon the delicate piece of paper that had been handed to me by the front office. A sense of apprehension coursed through my veins, causing me to momentarily freeze in my tracks. It was in that very moment that the realization struck me like a bolt of lightning, electrifying my every nerve. As fate would have it, I found myself bestowed with a remarkable opportunity - a chance to be a part of the mesmerizing world of Elvis Presley's latest motion picture. The sheer magnitude of this moment was not lost on me, for I was entrusted with the task of personally adorning the legendary icon's visage with the artistry of makeup. I found myself staring at the assignment card in my hands, my eyes scanning the words repeatedly, as if hoping to uncover some hidden mistake. It was a perplexing task, one that seemed entirely out of place, as if it had been mistakenly assigned to me. Doubt crept into my mind, causing me to question whether I had been handed the wrong card altogether. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, as if I had been thrust into a world of confusion and uncertainty. As I carefully examined the photograph, my eyes were immediately drawn to the bold letters inscribed on the back. ANGEL CASTEEL. It was as if the air had been violently expelled from my lungs, leaving me gasping for precious oxygen. The weight of the moment pressed down upon me, a heavy burden that threatened to crush my spirit. In that instant, time seemed to stand still, as I struggled to regain my composure and find my footing amidst the chaos that had engulfed me. In the grand tapestry of music history, there emerged a luminary whose brilliance outshone all others - Elvis Presley. With his magnetic charisma and unparalleled talent, he ascended to the pinnacle of stardom, becoming a celestial figure in the realm of entertainment. The world, captivated by his mesmerizing voice and electrifying performances, bestowed upon him the title of the biggest star to ever grace the stage. The weight of his authority hung heavy in the air. I knew that one wrong move, one ill-chosen word, could spell disaster for my future in this place. The thought of crossing him sent shivers down my spine. The consequences were clear - a swift and merciless termination, my dreams shattered in an instant. Doubts crept in, fueled by the disapproving whispers of my parents echoing in my mind. The prospect of facing my family, my head held low in defeat, was a bitter pill to swallow. It seemed as though the world was conspiring against me, determined to prove my parents right about my ill-fated choice to forgo college and embark on an uncertain journey to the land of dreams. The allure of California, with its promises of opportunity and adventure, had once beckoned me like a siren's call. But now, as reality set in, the weight of my decision pressed heavily upon my conscience. I felt my body physically tremble at the mere notion of it.

In the depths of my terror, I had managed to block out the world around me, creating a cocoon of isolation. The deafening silence enveloped me, shielding me from the chaos that unfolded just beyond my trembling form. But fate, it seemed, had other plans for me that day. As I stood there, paralyzed by dread, a sudden commotion shattered the stillness. The sound of a golf cart, its wheels skimming the unforgiving concrete, pierced through the veil of my obliviousness. Yet, my senses remained dulled, my mind consumed by the horrors that had gripped me so tightly. It was then, in that fleeting moment, that a voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. "Get out of the way!" it cried; a desperate plea laced with urgency. The words, though muffled by my own mental barricade, managed to penetrate the fortress of my consciousness. Slowly, ever so slowly, the realization dawned upon me. I was in danger. With a surge of adrenaline, I snapped back to reality, my senses awakening from their dormant state. In a flurry of motion, I leaped aside, narrowly evading the impending collision. Yet, in my haste to escape, my own feet betrayed me, entangled in a clumsy dance of their own accord. Gravity, ever unforgiving, seized the opportunity to assert its dominance. With a resounding thud, I found myself abruptly meeting the cold, unyielding ground. The impact reverberated through my being, jolting my senses, and leaving me momentarily stunned. With a sudden jolt, the golf cart came to an abrupt halt. As the dust settled, a figure emerged from the back of the cart, stepping down onto the ground with a purposeful stride.

“Dammit, Jerry!” The sound of a deep male voice echoed through the air. Its tone was filled with authority and a hint of frustration. “Didn’t I tell you to stop drivin’ like that around the backlot?!” The sound of a deep male voice echoed through the air. Then he was standing over me blocking the sun from my face. A shadow suddenly fell upon me, casting a temporary darkness over my face, his figure silhouetted against the bright sky. With a hint of exasperation, he remarks, “I’m sorry about that, sweetheart. Just my fool of a cousin bein’ a dumb hillbilly.” With a graceful motion, he extended his hand towards me.

Blinking rapidly, I waited patiently for my eyes to adjust. It took a few fleeting seconds, but soon enough, my vision began to clear. When it did, I realized the man who had just made me forget how to breathe was the same one who was now reaching out his hand to me. The golden rays of the morning sun danced upon his perfectly coiffed hair, transforming it into a radiant halo that encircled his head. His face was akin to the delicate sheen of porcelain. Every contour of his face exuded an air of flawlessness, as if meticulously crafted by the hands of a master artisan. But it was his smile that truly captivated me. It was a smile that radiated warmth and sincerity, etched upon his visage with such finesse that it seemed almost painted, a masterpiece of charm and genuine concern. As our palms connected, I couldn't help but notice the distinct texture of his hand. It bore the unmistakable marks of a seasoned musician, the roughness and calluses a testament to countless hours spent strumming the strings of a guitar. Still, it exuded an undeniable warmth.

Elvis effortlessly pulled me up from the ground. His touch was warm, sending a comforting sensation through my body as I rose to my feet. I couldn't help but notice the significant height difference between us. Standing at his shoulder level, I found myself tilting my head back, straining to meet his gaze. “Are you alright?” His voice, even in the most mundane of conversations, possessed a melodic quality.

“I-I’m fine.” My voice trembled as I spoke, the words barely escaping my lips. I noticed that he had yet to release his grip on my hand. His thumb, in a tender and delicate manner, began to caress the back of my hand, tracing gentle circles that sent a shiver down my spine. It felt nice.

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want a pretty lady like you to be out there hatin’ me for almost runnin’ you over.”

A rosy hue crept up my cheeks. I couldn't help but curse the very strands of my dark hair, for they seemed to possess a mischievous ability to reveal my emotions with such ease. “I don’t hate people over accidents.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as he released my hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement. With a graceful bend, he reached down to retrieve the assignment card that had slipped from my grasp during my clumsy stumble. With a swift movement, he cast a fleeting glance at the object in question, his eyes briefly grazing its surface. Then, as if entrusting me with a precious secret, he extended his hand, offering it to me. I thought he was going to mention that I was working on his movie, but instead he said, “Angel…what a perfect name for you.”

“Thank you.” I took the card back, my grip tightening with an intensity that bordered on excessive.

Just staring at each other, silence fell between us, and I found myself at a loss for words. As his gaze met mine, a surge of emotions coursed through me, causing a fluttering sensation deep within my core. A surge of relief washed over me as Jerry, the proclaimed 'dumb hillbilly' who had nearly collided with me moments ago, bellowed from his perch in the driver's seat of the golf cart that they had to be at the set. Their lateness probably accounted for Jerry's erratic driving.

Elvis cast a quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Jerry's for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention back to me. “You want a ride, darlin’?”

“What?” I was certain I had misheard him.

“By the looks of that card you dropped, you’re my new makeup team.” His face lit up with a radiant smile. “My mama taught me betta than to leave behind a woman in distress. Besides, I owe you for Jerry almost hittin’ you with the cart.”

Every fiber of my being was crying out, begging me to refuse his proposition. My body, like a chorus of voices, was screaming at me, warning me of the potential consequences that lay ahead. It was as if every nerve ending was ablaze with a sense of impending danger, urging me to turn away from his offer. It was telling me that if I stayed in his presence any longer, I would burst and vanish into the wind. But my mother had taught me manners as well, and in the end, they triumphed. With a slight inclination of my head, I acknowledged Elvis's proposal. He gestured for me to follow him, and together we made our way towards the sleek golf cart parked nearby. With a gentle yet firm grip, he assisted me in mounting the back of the cart. And to my surprise, instead of returning to his original spot, he gracefully joined me, settling in beside me.

As the rickety cart trundled along the worn path, making its way towards the bustling filming stage, my heart raced with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. The weight of my emotions manifested in the tight grip I had on the delicate fabric of my skirt, my fingers digging into the material. There was an air of unease that surrounded me, evident in every aspect of my demeanor. It was as if my discomfort radiated from within, casting a shadow over my every move. Elvis, ever observant, seemed to sense this, his eyes darting sideways every now and then, as if trying to decipher the source of my unease. I mentally smacked myself. What are you so nervous for? For months on end, you have diligently toiled within the confines of this bustling operation, meticulously applying makeup to the countenances of actors and actresses whose visages were once merely a flickering presence on your television screen. Elvis is no different. He’s just another client. With a heavy sigh, I released a deep exhale, feeling the tension dissipate from my body. Slowly, I withdrew my hands from the confines of my skirt, the fabric now bearing the telltale signs of my nervous fidgeting - a collection of wrinkles that mirrored the unrest within me. “Thank you,” I finally said as I turned my head to meet Elvis' gaze, “Givin’ me a ride was very nice of you, Mr. Presley.”

“Call me Elvis. Mr. Presley is my Daddy and I ain’t that old yet.”

A soft chuckle escaped my lips, carried away on a gentle breeze. “You don’t look old at all, Elvis.” His name felt foreign on my lips but I found a strange comfort in it.

“You’re bein’ too nice.” Elvis licked his lips. “I’ve been around this studio for a few years now and I ain’t never seen you around. I’m sure I would have remembered someone like you.”

My cheeks flushed with a rosy hue once more. “I’ve only been here a few months. Before I was workin’ at a salon. The head of the makeup department came in. She liked what I did to her face so much she hired me to work here.”

“Then you must really be somethin’. I’m lucky you’re workin’ on my picture then, Ms. Angel.”

“Call me Angel.”

A soft, gentle smile graced his lips once more, illuminating his face with a warmth that seemed to radiate from within. It was a smile that could make anyone melt, and I, too, succumbed to its irresistible charm. As the cart came to a halt, we found ourselves outside the grand, imposing stage gate. With a graceful leap, Elvis emerged from the vehicle, extending a hand to assist me in my own exit. I stood there, her heart pounding in my chest. The words of gratitude that had been on the tip of my tongue were left unspoken. The movie crew, like a swarm of bees, descended upon him, their eager hands guiding him towards the entrance. Silently, I trailed behind, my eyes fixed on him as he came to a halt. He engaged in conversation with the main actress, the one who portrayed the female lead and served as Elvis's love interest in the film. She stood before him, a vision of beauty. Her face adorned with carefully applied makeup, enhancing her features and accentuating her natural charm. Her luscious blond locks cascaded in perfect curls, framing her face with an air of elegance. Clad in a swimsuit that showcased her long, slender legs, she left little to the imagination. As he flashed a warm smile in her direction, my heart skipped a beat, and a sudden realization washed over me like a crashing wave. It was a truth that had been lurking. Elvis only wanted to be kind because his golf buggy nearly ran into me. With my jet-black hair and eyes, the color of a moonlit sea, I was nowhere near attractive enough. My skin was too pale, and my clothing were simply thrift shop finds that suited me well. In the vast expanse of the universe, our souls resided on separate solar systems, as distant from each other as the stars that adorned the night sky. With a heavy sigh escaping my lips, I trudged forward, determined to locate the elusive makeup trailer.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

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perotovar · 6 months

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into the beat of the night (ch 3) "self control"

moodboard by the lovely @hellishjoel, gif by me

pairing: frankie morales/enby!oc!river price (they/them) rating: 18+ (minors dni) chapter warnings: fingering, one (1) handjob, discussions of sexuality/gender (in an... interesting way), goth stereotypes abound, swearing, more cute shit word count: 3k dividers by @saradika beta: @scenaaario (ily adrienne ♥)

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“What’s their name again?”

“River. I already told you, Benjamin,” Frankie chuckled, taking a drink from his beer.

“Right, sorry. I’ve just never met a non… what was it again?”

Frankie, Benny, Will, and Santiago were at their usual bar that night. It was in a different part of town than The Night Owl, with a completely different vibe, but it was cozy. The four of them had become regulars and knew the staff by name.

“Non-binary person,” Will said, shoving Benny on the shoulder. “Are you listening at all?”

Benny shot his brother a look and stuck his tongue out, because apparently Benny was still five. “Of course I’m listening! Non-bi-nar-y,” he sounded it out, tapping his finger on the table with each syllable. “What does, uh… What does that like, mean, Fish?”

Frankie furrowed his brows and took another drink. “I haven’t actually asked yet. All they told me is that they’re like… both, and neither, at the same time.” He hummed thoughtfully. “I was a little distracted after that and didn’t get to ask.”

Santiago grinned, slapping Frankie on the shoulder. “Good for you, Fish.”

Frankie rolled his eyes, but smiled, thinking about the kiss he shared with River the other night. They kept texting, and he’d even asked River out on a real date, which brought the guys to the bar. It had been a year or so since his last date and he needed advice on where to take someone like River. He wasn’t as familiar with the goth subculture and thought maybe his brothers would have experience. At the very least Ben, who’d been with a few different kinds of people.

“I did look it up that night after I got home, but I’m still a little confused,” Frankie shrugged.

“Just ask them, man,” Will offered. “They seemed cool with your first question.”

Frankie nodded, a look of determination crossing his features. “You’re right. It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Frankie was sweating. Marisol was with her mom this week, so he hadn’t had to worry about having that conversation yet. He was planning on telling River about her tonight. He checked his hair in the mirror again before he left, deciding to go without his hat tonight, but worried all his nerves would deflate the work he put into it. He sighed as he messed around with the unruly curls again. This is why he stuck to hats. Frankie’s phone vibrated on the bathroom counter, startling him.

ok im ready, eddie 😉

River still thought it was hilarious that Frankie had worn an Iron Maiden t-shirt to a goth club, claiming that it fit his “old man aesthetic”, whatever that meant. This led to River referring to Frankie as “Eddie”, after the band’s skeleton mascot.

Yeah yeah i’m coming

Frankie saw the typing dots appear and disappear a couple times before disappearing completely. He sighed to himself and checked his hair one last time before leaving his apartment.

When he got to the neighborhood of the address River had given him, he checked his phone again, making sure he was in the right place. He slowly crept up the hill towards the last line of apartments and immediately his heart started pounding. Frankie really liked River. He didn’t want to fuck this up, and hoped him being a dad wouldn’t ruin that. Or his big dumb mouth.

River was standing at the bottom of the staircase of the apartment complex and waved, a huge grin on their face. Frankie stopped the truck and leaned over to open the passenger side door for them to climb inside. The scent of bergamot, clove, and sandalwood filled his nostrils again as the truck door shut. Frankie calmed down, and smiled, leaning over to give River a kiss on the cheek. “You look amazing,” he breathed, taking in River’s outfit; they had a collarless shirt buttoned up all the way, tucked into plaid pants, and nice dress shoes. All black, of course. They wore no lipstick today, their makeup was simple, and their hair was perfectly straight. It looked like they’d freshly shaved the right side of their head as well. River’s look was so new for Frankie, he couldn’t help being captivated by them every time he saw them.

“Thank you,” River smiled, heart skipping a beat. “Where are we off to?” They rested their ring-clad hand over Frankie’s larger one in between the two of them on the seat. “When you said it was a surprise, I admit I got a little nervous.”

Frankie placed his hand on the back of the truck seat and looked behind them as he backed up to leave the apartment complex. River’s eyes were glued to Frankie’s neck and subtly licked their lips at the sight of the thick muscles and veins. Their eyes moved up to Frankie’s side profile and they swooned.

“How come? Don’t trust me?” Frankie smirked, making eye contact before his eyes moved to the road, and started heading toward their destination.

River shrugged, even though they knew he couldn’t see them. “Maybe. Maybe not,” they smirked. The red light of the clock on the console caught River’s eye; 7:30pm.

“Well, that’s a shame. I had a nice dinner planned and everything,” Frankie showed them an exaggerated pout, a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh, well, in that case.”

The restaurant Frankie picked might’ve been a little more… casual, then he remembered. The last time he was here was with Jackson. He shook off the memory. He was here with River now. The place was actually more like a diner, with vintage photos of women in pinup-style outfits and poses.

Frankie reached for River’s hand and laced their fingers together as he found them a table, letting River sit first.

“Such a gentleman,” River teased, squeezing his hand before getting comfy in the booth.

“I try,” Frankie smiled bashfully as he joined them on the opposite side. The light shining down onto the table lit River beautifully. He noticed that River’s button-up was actually a dark green, with subtle velvet roses all over.

They ordered their food and made easy conversation. River talked about their job as an architect. They were working on designing a building that was be built in the next couple of years in the city. Frankie found it fascinating but couldn’t focus on the words, too distracted by their calming voice and watching their mannerisms. River talked with their hands a lot whenever they got excited about something, and Frankie thought it was adorable.

“Sorry, I know I’m rambling now,” River shook their head, cutting themself off. Frankie frowned,mouth full of french fries.

“Please, continue, I don’t mind listening.”

So River did. They talked about anything and everything. Frankie interjected here and there, but was more than content to listen to River talk. When there was a lull in the conversation, Frankie’s palms started to get sweaty. Their plates were empty now, but River still had half of their milkshake left.

It was now or never. Frankie took a deep breath.

“So… I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he started. River raised an eyebrow and rested their chin on the palm of their hand, listening. Frankie cleared his throat before continuing. “Um, so I know this is a dealbreaker for some people, so I won’t be offended if you want to stop things after tonight. B-But I would like to stay friends if that’s the case.” He rubbed his sweaty hands on his thighs. “I’ve got a daughter.”

River was quiet for a second before a small smile appeared on their face. “I’m actually not surprised. How old is she?”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not. You’re an incredibly handsome man of a certain age–”

“Hey.”

“And any woman would be stupid not to make an honest man outta you,” River winked.

Frankie blinked a couple times before chuckling softly. River continued to surprise him. “Well, her mother isn’t in the picture, at least not with me. Marisol, my daughter, sees her half the time, and stays with me the other half of the time,” he explained, crossing his arms comfortably over the table. “Oh, and she’s four.”

“Aww, can I see a picture of her?”

Frankie’s heart fluttered as pulled his phone out, opening the album of photos devoted just to his little girl. He slid his phone over to River and they started scrolling through the photos with a smile on their face.

“She’s adorable, Frankie,” River hummed, returning his phone back to him. “I can tell you think the world of her. I won’t lie, I’m not really… uh, a kid kind of person. I always just planned on being the cool cousin and not a parent,” they muttered, resting their chin on their palm again.

Frankie nodded in understanding. “I totally get that. I just figured it wouldn’t be fair to you, or to Marisol, to keep her a secret, y’know?”

“Absolutely, and I appreciate you telling me,” River nodded back. “But I like you. A lot. And I’m willing to give this a shot with you. So I don’t think Marisol is a dealbreaker.”

Frankie’s heart soared at River’s words. “I really like you, too,” he grinned like an idiot, cheeks warm. “C’mon, we still have another part to this date.” He stood up and held his hand out for River to take.

After paying, the two found themselves back in Frankie’s truck heading down the highway. It was starting to get darker and the roads were clearing. They pulled up to a drive-in, but there weren’t any other cars.

“What is this, Grease?” River teased. “A diner and then a drive-in movie?”

Frankie snorted and reached out his window to pay for their tickets before finding somewhere to park. “I happen to like drive-in movies and diners, thank you very much.”

“That’s because you’re old–”

“I’m only a few years older than you,” Frankie deadpanned.

“Details.”

About a third of the way into the original Halloween, Frankie put his arm around River’s shoulders and pulled them close. River happily cuddled into Frankie’s side, loving the warmth and softness they found there.

Halfway through, River’s eyes started wandering elsewhere. They looked down at the crotch of Frankie’s jeans, and wondered what lay beyond the tight denim. They looked up at Frankie’s face and kissed the little patch in his beard that refused to grow hair. Frankie looked down at them, deep brown eyes looking over River’s features. He went from their dark-rimmed eyes, to their collarbone, and back to their plush lips, his heart pounding. He didn’t need any further convincing and started kissing River deeply, holding the side of their face.

River hummed into Frankie’s mouth and slowly crawled into Frankie’s lap. They grinned as Frankie huffed a breath against their lips, holding River’s hips in his large hands. River kissed the corner of Frankie’s mouth before moving down to the side of his neck and sucked a mark where his neck met his shoulder. Frankie shuddered, moving a hand down and squeezing River’s ass. They lifted their head and looked at the far-away expression on his face.

“Are you one of those guys that doesn’t like to fool around on the first date?”

Frankie blinked up at River, thinking about it. “I mean, no, but–” “Good,” River growled, latching back onto Frankie’s neck and sucking hard.

Frankie moaned openly at that, but pulled them away. “Wait,” he breathed. River tilted their head to the side and didn’t say anything, letting Frankie continue. “Um, I had another question.”

“Okay.”

“Well, uh. I don’t mean to kill the mood, because God, I really wanna get back to that, b-but I was curious,” Frankie swallowed, not making eye contact again. “I looked up what non-binary was after you told me and I was a little confused, and basically I just– Um, I wanna know like, how… this would… work,” he trailed off, gesturing between the two of them and at the bulge in his jeans.

“You’re asking what I have so you know how to proceed.” It was a statement, not a question, said softly in understanding. River played with the curls at the back of Frankie’s neck.

Frankie nodded. ��If that’s an invasive question, I’m really sorry, and–”

“Shh,” River chuckled, pecking Frankie on the cheek. “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not offended. You’re actually being really sweet about all of this. I know this is new for you.”

Frankie smiled shyly and shrugged, but let them continue.

“I was raised as a girl. ‘Assigned female at birth’, is typically what we call it,” River looked down, playing with the collar of Frankie’s shirt. “You were assigned male at birth. The doctors looked at your parts and decided that’s what you were, and you never felt like it was incorrect, right?”

Frankie nodded, listening carefully.

“Right. Well, it felt wrong to me. I didn’t really know what the feeling was growing up. It’s actually kind of a recent development for me.”

Frankie chewed on his bottom lip, one question still buzzing around his head. “How do you… How did you know? And did you… have any… surgeries? To um–” he didn’t know how to word any of this.

River laughed softly. “Yeah, I had top surgery. I no longer have breasts, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Everything below the belt is still intact,” they grinned, moving their crotch closer to Frankie’s. “The complicated answer, especially for someone so new to this, is that gender is a societal thing. How you’re perceived, presented to the world is just through the eyes of society. How you see yourself is what actually matters, though. And when all that societal bullshit doesn’t affect your life, the roles you’re ‘supposed’ to play don’t matter anymore.”

“I’m River. River is me. I don’t care how people see me. I did all of this,” they gestured to their body. “For me. Not for anyone else. Because if I didn’t, I would be unhappy. And my own mental health and happiness matters more than some so-called church-going do-gooder’s opinion.”

Frankie looked at River in awe. Their confidence and respect for themself was one of the most attractive things he’d ever seen. “You’re amazing,” Frankie breathed, surging forward to kiss them deeply. He gripped River’s ass again and pulled them closer, grinding his hardening cock against them.

River moaned softly, grinding back, and tangling their fingers into his hair. Suddenly, Frankie pulled back, catching his breath.

“Wait, does that, like…” He thought for a second. “While I was doing my research, I came across a couple other terms I didn’t know.”

River chuckled and kissed down Frankie’s neck softly. “Go on.”

Frankie’s breath hitched, speaking shakily. “Um, I’ve always considered myself b-bisexual– oh– a-and if non-binary people are technically a th-third gender, then does that change?”

“No,” River hummed, licking underneath Frankie’s ear, before taking the lobe into their mouth and nibbling.

“It doesn’t?”

River shook their head. “Bisexual is more like an umbrella term. People interpret it differently,” they reached a hand down between them, trailing their fingers to Frankie’s belt buckle and undoing it. “For example, you’ve always assumed it just meant you were attracted to men and women, right?”

Frankie moaned softly as the pressure was relieved from his hard cock, and nodded.

“Exactly. Another way you could see it is you being attracted to people that are like you,” they gripped Frankie’s cock tightly, making him gasp sharply. “And people who aren’t.” They grabbed his hand and placed it onto their crotch, grinding against him.

He was so hard he was throbbing, and so turned on his head spun. He started undoing River’s dress pants and slipped his hand down to their panties, finding their pussy impossibly warm and wet.

“Fuck,” Frankie groaned, rubbing at their clit through the fabric of their underwear. River moaned sweetly and bit their bottom lip, moving Frankie’s boxer briefs out of the way so they could grip around his cock.

“You’re so hard,” River grinned, rubbing their thumb over the tip. They started stroking him slowly, watching as the head of Frankie’s cock appeared and disappeared underneath the foreskin.

Frankie was breathing heavily, resting his head on the back of his seat and looking at River through his lashes. He moved the tips of his fingers in small circles for a few moments before he moved his fingers beneath their underwear and touched bare skin. River gasped at the contact and nodded, giving him permission. Frankie slowly sunk his middle finger inside them and started pumping in and out. His thumb rubbed in time against their clit. River started moaning louder, throwing their head back to expose their throat to him.

Frankie saw an opening and latched his mouth onto their neck, marking them in return as his free hand held the back of River’s head. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he groaned, biting at River’s skin.

River shuddered at the praise, rocking their hips against Frankie’s hand. “‘M close,” they whined, panting down at him. They started to lose their rhythm on Frankie’s cock and squeezed him tightly in their fist. Frankie nodded in understanding and started moving his fingers faster, adding a second one as the slick sounds coming from between River’s legs filled the truck.

“C’mon, baby. You gonna come for me?” he breathed against their neck, leaving soft kisses against their skin. The contrast between what his mouth and what his hand were doing was overwhelming and River wouldn’t change it for the world.

River nodded, their brows moving downward in pleasure before stilling above him as they came. Their hips rocked back and forth over Frankie’s hand as they came down, moaning and biting their lip.

The sight of River coming was enough for Frankie and his cock twitched hard as he erupted all over River’s hand. He grunted and hid his face in their neck as his balls emptied messily. He whined softly, twitching in the aftershocks.

River giggled quietly and held him close after licking their hand clean. “Gonna have to blow you next time,” they hummed thoughtfully.

Frankie groaned as his oversensitive cock twitched between them. “Don’t say shit like that while I’m still vulnerable, you menace.”

River bit his cheek, then kissed it softly. “You love it.”

He did. He really did.

a/n: please enjoy this meme that inspired the scene above

#frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #oaksfics

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munsonownsmyass · 6 months

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~~ Update ~~

(If anyone cares 😆)

Life has been a shit show lately. So I'm sorry I've been so bad at reading, reblogging, participating in stuff and just... well, generally being around.

I will do better though and I do have some stuff planned, that I hope my brain will cooperate enough for me to write 🤣

Killing me Softly - serial killer Matt Murdock (don't worry, it'll be good 😉)

I got this amazing art from @bunnelbie for the story and it's simply beautiful 😍

Stole my heart at Christmas - A The Holiday AU with Quinn McKenna and Frank Castle as the guys. Will feature OCs, not reader. Hope people will read anyways 😅

Have done a little moodboard as a teaser 🙈

And because of @boliv-jenta sharing those Frankie gifs last night and me now watching Triple Frontier for the umpteenth time, I have some ideas for Frankie. Benny and Will too..

If I were you - Frankie Morales and single mom

Right place at the right time - Benny Miller

Play date - Will Miller and plus size reader

Tagging a few people that I feel like I should apologize too for going AWOL or just people who might be interested.

@e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @theradioactivespidergwen @murdock-and-the-sea @mattmurdocksscars @boliv-jenta @wardenparker @misspearly1 @chvoswxtch @idrinkcoffeeandobsess @saintmurd0ck @pedrito-friskito @lucy-sky @darlingshane

#writing update #matt murdock #frank castle #quinn mckenna #frankie morales #benny miller #will miller

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justtwotired · 8 hours

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Whispers of the night - Lloyd Garmadon x F!reader

Part 1 - previous - next

Tag list: @cipheress-to-k-pop @whore-of-many-hot-men @bodieohbo @anyth1ngfor0urmoony @luvlloyd @viannasthings

Guys- can we like- talk about this fanart I added here of Lloyd?? Cause I love it so, so much! Smits such good art and the artists OC -Christal- is also so beautiful! The Artist is ‘Scarlets.Doodles’ btw. I also wanted to say that all the art I use in the beginning of the chapters is not mine, but I always find it on Pinterest and than I can’t find the original artist, if you do know, please tell me so I can give the artist credit for their work!<3

Anyway, it’s bonding time for Y/n and her little brother😍

Your POV:

The holidays where over and it was time to go back to school, fun…!

Not.

But I guess it means I could see my friends everyday so it isn’t THAT bad, I guess, we did have fun at school the first day back.

It was a Monday, which meant school ended early for me. Dad was busy at work and mom was out with my aunt, our nanny was not available on Mondays, so that meant I was on duty of getting my little brother from school and my sister from daycare.

Luckily for me, they where right next to each other. I went to get my brother first and I walked onto the school grounds, waiting around with parents for the bell to ring and for the kids to come running out.

After five minutes off waiting, the bell rang and kids started streaming out of the school. Trough the crowd, I didn’t manage to spot Ace.

After a while, I finnaly spotted his dirty blonde hair and smiled, yet it fell when I saw he was being pushed around by a few other boys seemingly a bit older than he was, making my blood boil.

“Hey!” I called out, walking towards them, they looked up and the four boys quickly scurried off. I contemplated going after them but decided on staying with my brother.

“Ace, are you alright?” I asked concerned, squatting down next to him and turning his head towards me when he avoided looking at me. “Hey, look at me,” I said softly, “are you alright?” I repeated.

He shook his head, tears in his eyes and barreled into me, hugging me tight making me hug him right back.

“Hey, hey,” I said, softly stroking his hair. “It’s alright, they where just being little pricks,” I said and he pulled away, looking at me with a pout. “Why where they mean?” I asked softly.

“They are always mean to me,” he sniffed, whipping away the tears that threatened to spill, “just because I sometimes play with girls and dolls too,” he said and my heart broke.

“They do this more often?” I asked, glancing at the direction the kids had ran and I noticed their mothers in conversation with each other while the boys fooled around, looking oh so innocent as if they hadn’t been bullying my little brother.

“Oh, kiddo, why didn’t you tell me? Or mom and dad?” I asked, wiping away the fresh tears running down his face.

He shrugged and hid his face in my shoulder, making me kiss the top of his head. “Come,” I said, picking him up, “I’ll talk to their parents,” I said and began walking over.

“You don’t have to!” He panicked and I frowned lightly at him, “it’s fine, really!” He insisted and I shook my head.

“Ace, they are bullying you, that is not okay,” I said softly, “let’s try to solve this on our own before involving the school,” I smiled and continued walking.

The mothers looked up when I arrived, looking at me with questioning glances.

“Can we help you?” One of them asked, looking rather annoyed. Great, this was going to be harder than I had initially thought.

“Those are your kids?” I asked, nodding towards the four boys. The mothers all nodded. “I’m Y/n, Ace’s sister,” I introduced, “I just noticed your kids pushing him around and calling him names,” I looked around the group of mothers.

“You- you did?” Another asked concerned, glancing over to her son with a worried glance. “Oh great god, I am so sorry, I’ll talk to Bennie about that,” she shook her head.

“Oh please, they are just having a bit of fun, boys will be boys,” the woman who had been the first to speak waved it off.

“Clarice, if they are bullying ace we cannot take it lightly,” another told her, laying a hand on her shoulder, “we as parents are responsible to teach our children to be kind and respectful to everyone,” she smiled softly at me, making me smile back.

“Are you sure they where bullying him?” The fourth mother spoke, “I mean, they could indeed just been having fun,” she shrugged, looking over at her child as he laughed with his friends, probably not able to imagine him bullying someone.

“Seeing that my brother was crying, I am pretty sure,” I said dryly and she frowned but nodded. “I hope we can all just figure this out without having to involve the school, but if it does not improve, I’m afraid I’ll have to get my parents to speak with a teacher,” I informed.

“Oh yes, of course,” Bennie’s mother nodded hastily, “we’ll talk with our children and please, if nothing improves, come to us and we will talk with the teacher together,” she smiled and kindly touched my shoulder.

“Thank you so much,” I gave her a appreciating smile, “if you’ll excuse me, I do need to get my sister from daycare,” I said and bid my goodbyes.

The first one huffed in annoyance as I left and I heard a, “can you believe that? Accusing our children of bullying!” Coming from her mouth, making me roll my eyes.

Well, teo of them took it amazing, one seemed a bit sceptical, and they other was a total bitch. But it went better than I had expected.

“See,” I looked at Ace with a smile, “that wasn’t that hard,” I kissed his hair and put him down, holding out my hand for him to take as we both headed to the daycare before taking the car back home.

That night, when my siblings laid in bed, I entered the living room where my parents where watching tv.

“Mom, dad,” I said and they looked up at me, my father pausing the movie.

“Yes, sweetie?” My mom asked, her smile dropping at my concerned face.

I had decided it was best to talk with them while Ace wasn’t there, I didn’t want to embarrass him or make him cry by thinking about what was happening.

“Did you know Ace was getting bullied?” I asked and their faces fell, and I swore I saw actual tears form in my mothers eyes.

“Our little boy is getting bullied?” My dad asked, eyes full of rage and my mom grabbed his wrist, muttering his name, trying to calm him down.

“I saw him being pushed around and being called names by four boys about two to three years older than him,” I explained, “when I asked he said it was because he hung out with girls and played with dolls,” I looked at the ground, chewing on the inside of my cheek, “he looked so upset,” I shook my head sadly, my voice cracking.

“We need to talk to the teachers,” my mom insisted, “this is not okay, god, we should have put him in a private school, a public school is just-”

“Mom!” I cut her off, “public school or no, children are just little shits sometimes,” I shook my head, “besides, I already spoke to their mothers, I think they’re going to handle it but I can’t be sure and I wanted you to know,” I explained and my mother threw her head back and sighed.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said and walked up to me, “you’re amazing, I am so proud of you,” she hugged me tightly and I chuckled hugging her back.

“I bet it was that Lucas, wasn’t it?” Dad asked, his eyes still full of rage and he looked at me as my mother let go off the hug.

“I don’t know, but I know one of them is named Bennie, or Ben or whatever,” I shrugged and my mothers brows rose.

“Really?” She asked surprised, “Bennie’s mom is such a nice woman,” she shook her head in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah she was really nice,” I quickly nodded, “she promised to talk to her son- there was this one woman who was being kind of a bitch though,” I said and my mom shot me a look.

“Language, Y/n,” she said and my dad stifled a chuckle, making me shoot him a light glare.

“Sorry,” I muttered, “anyway, her name is Clarice and I swear I want to punch her in the face,” I huffed and crossed my arms.

“Oh… her,” my mom scoffed, “yeah, she’s Lucas’ mother, she is a horrible woman with an equally horrible husband,” she shook her head. “I don’t think she will be talking to her son about this,” she said sadly.

“Then we’ll have to step to the school eventually,” I shrugged, “for now let’s just support Ace,” I glanced towards the stairs where I had just come down from after reading Ace a bedtime story.

“Im proud of you,” my mom said, and pulled me into another hug, making me chuckle and hug her back.

It was a week later, I waited for my parents and little brother to get back from the conversation they had with the school and the parents of the kids bullying Ace.

The bullying had in fact, not stopped and my father was ready to sue. Luckily my mother was reasonable and just arranged a meeting.

When they got back, Ace just went up to his room without a word and my parents walked in aswel, rather frustrated.

“It seemed the school has the same motto as Clarice,” my mother said a bit disappointed, “apparently boys will be boys and they will get over it soon enough,” she said making me scowl and roll my eyes.

“Hey, you know where that Clarice lives?” I asked, “I might pay her a visit and try get some sense into her head, maybe the teachers aswel,” I said darkly and my father met my gaze.

“Good idea” he started but my mother cut him off.

“Absolutely not!” She said and hit the back off his head. “You should not be supporting this behaviour, Elijah!” She scolded my father, “we will handle this like adults, besides, tomorrow they have that costume party in the evening, maybe we’ll get something out of that,” she said with a small smile.

My father and I shared glances, both knowing it was probably not going to happen, but we didn’t say anything.

The next evening, I held my brothers hand as he, James and I, walked into the decorated school grounds. Kids in costumes ran around, some off the parents where even dressed up, aswel as the teachers.

I spotted some kids around our age too, also in custom. I guessed they where older siblings like me.

James, Ace and I where dressed as pirates. James and I wore our costumes from two halloweens ago, we had spent ages on making them.

Ace wore a costume that I bought at a toy store, I had pimped it with accessories and sewed the costume here and there to make it more realistic. I got him a plastic sword, an eyepatch and painted a beard on his face.

He was extremely proud and quickly went to show off to his friends. I did notice there where four girls, but there where two boys aswel that seemed to be friends with him, so I wondered why it was Ace that was targeted by bullies.

I almost tripped when four kids in ninja costume came running past me. One of them wore green, the others red, black and white. I chuckled at the sight before the masks went off and my smile fell.

“What?” James asked when he noticed, giving me a frowning look.

“Those are the four kids that bully Ace,” I whispered, “little shits,” I murmured right after.

“Oh, that’s them aye?” He asked, making way to go talk to them- or well probably their mothers as they stood next to them, showing off, making me grab his arm.

“Jamie,” I said, “don’t, we don’t wat to make it worse,” I frowned and looked at Ace, who was beaming at me, making me smile back. “Ace is happy, let’s leave it like that,”

James nodded and together we headed over to Ace who introduced us to his friends who where all dressed up differently, looking cute as ever.

After abput two hours, both me and James sat on a bench, drinks in hand as we where quietly judging costumes, giggling amongst ourselves.

“There’s so many ninja outfits,” he commented, making me nod. There where indeed, even one teacher was dressed up, fully in blue.

One girl was proudly dressed as the water ninja, boasting to the four little rascals about how she was the best ninja.

They countered that by saying that the green ninja was the best and the most powerful, which just made her stick out her tongue.

I averted my gaze to three girls, who I guessed where in grade seven or so, playing with skipping ropes, doing tricks that almost made me jealous, because I could never do that when I was their age.

James made a comment about that and I shoved him, causing him to almost fall off the bench while laughing.

With a chuckle, my eyes searched for Ace and my stomach sank when I watched how he was harshly pushed and he fell to the ground, making me seath with rage.

“Hey!” I stood up and quickly made my way over, “what do you think you’re doing?!” I called and a few people looked up to see what was happening. From the corner of my eye, I saw two people also quickly making their way over.

“Bennie!” His mother called out, and the boy looked up, eyes wide, looking like a deer in headlights.

I quickly kneeled down next to Ace. “Are you hurt?” I asked worried, fussing over him, James also coming to stand next to me.

“Are you four crazy?” He interrogated the children, “he could’ve been seriously hurt!” He pointed at Ace who had thick tears streaming down his face as I kissed his forehead and hugged him tightly.

“Oh, I am so, so sorry,” Bennies mother said to me, before turning to her son and starting to scold him. “Oh, and you three to!” She turned to the other three boys, who wore the same expression as their friend.

“Gavin,” another mother kneeled down to the level of her child, “what did we talk about, we do not hurt other kids, neither with words or our hands,” she said in a serious tone.

“I wanna go home,” Ace cried and I sighed, picking him up and letting him sit on my hip.

“Lets go, it’s late anyway,” I shook my head, starting to walk off.

“Hey, hold up!” I turned around at a hand in my shoulder, facing Bennies mother. “Bennie, say sorry to Ace,” she looked at her soon with an expecting look.

“Sorry, Ace,” he said softly, and I was quite surprised to see ehe genuinely meant it.

“You too,” the other mother looked at the remaining three kids who also muttered their sorry’s. She then turned to me with a soft look. “I promise this will not happen again,” she said and that’s when the third mother arrived aswel.

“Hey, what happened?” She asked worried glancing at Ace who was still whipping away tears.

Bennie’s mother quickly explained and the woman frowned and turned to her child.

“Felix, have you apologised to Ace?” She asked and he nodded, she looked at me for confirmation and I nodded aswel. “I am so sorry, dear,” she shook her head.

I muttered something before walking of, mostly focused on getting Ace out of here. James followed after me, a hard look on his face.

James hates bullies. He himself was bullied when he was little too and he did everything to protect those who were targeted.

One time, he sucker punched some guy who was bothering a first year, stealing their backpack and everything, it was pretty amusing.

Back at home, James said goodbye to me and Ace and I headed inside, holding Ace’s hand.

My mom was in the kitchen and he quickly hugged her when he spotted her, making her look at me in question, probably wondering why we where back so early and why Ace seemed like he had cried.

I explained the story and she was lost for words for a moment before hugging her son tightly, whispering reassuring things to him before taking him upstairs to get ready for bed.

I also went upstairs, texting with James who just got home and wondered how Ace was doing.

I yelped when my window -which I had slightly opened just in case- opened, greenie stepping inside with a wide grin as he pulled off his mask.

“Hi, princess,” he greeted and I chuckled, sending James a quick goodnight text before getting off the bed.

“Hi, stinky,” I said, scrunching my nose as I smelled the sweat from only a few feet away. He pouted at me and I chuckled.

“You bully,” he said, whiling away fake tears making me jab his side. He laughed, catching my hand before I could do it again.

He pulled me forwards into a kiss and I chuckled, before my face fell slightly when he pulled away, making him frown.

“What’s wrong?” He asked concerned, cupping my face in his hands.

“Lloyd,” I said softly and he hummed in acknowledgment, “can you do something for me?”

Lloyd POV:

I stood in front of Y/n’s house, gi and mask on, a small helmet in my hands.

The front door opened and Ace came running out, followed by a chuckling Y/n who was holding his hand, being dragged towards me.

“Ready to go, little man?” I asked and he beamed at me, almost jumping up and down.

“Yes!” He said in excitement and I chuckled, kneeling down to help him put on the helmet.

“Does that fit?” I asked and he nodded, looking up at Y/n to show off, making her chuckle.

“Good luck, you two,” she smiled and I stood up again, ruffling her hair affectionately making her mumble a soft curse before quickly glancing at Ace who luckily didn’t hear it.

“I’ll see you later,” I said, making her smile and nod. “Now, let’s get you onto the bike,” I said before lifting him up and putting him on the bike before also getting on myself.

“Drive safely!” Y/n called before I drove off, Ace shrieking and laughing in excitement the whole ride.

When we got to his school, I helped him off the bike, before kneeling down and also getting the helmet off. It revealed an excited grin and I chuckled, holding out my hand for him to take.

There were already a few parents and kids in the parking lot who watched with wide eyes.

The two of us walked onto the schoolyard and many heads turned in wonder and surprise, making me grin from under the mask while Ace buzzed in excitement.

“Acey!” A girl came running up followed by a few others, she hugged him tightly, making him let go of my hand to hug her back.

only when she let go did she seem to notice me, making her eyes grow wide. “The green ninja!” She gasped and the other friends yaws dropped aswel as they watched me in awe, making me chuckle.

“Hi there,” I greeted with a small wave. I scanned the grounds quickly and then spotted a small group of four boys, watching in awe. I recognised them from the pictures in the yearbook Y/n had showed me, so I diverted my gaze and looked back at Ace.

“How do you know him?” A boy asked, looking at me, then at Ace, then me again in awe, and then back at Ace.

“He is my sisters friend,” Ace said, a bit shy now as he answered the questions his friends had for him.

“Excuse me?” I looked up at a woman who was holding a phone and a man beside her. “Can I take a picture of the lot of you?” She asked with a warm smile, one of the Ace’s friends went to hug her legs and I guessed this was her mom.

“Of course,” I said and the kids bustled around, all posing as the woman took a few pictures. My hand rested on Ace’s shoulder the whole time.

I never really did pictures and autographs, but just for this one time should be fine.

“Hey, Mr. Green ninja?” I looked up to see a man approaching, he stuck out his hand and I shook it in silence. “I am William Wright, the principal. May I ask you what gives us the honour for you to visit our school?” He asked and I shrugged.

“Oh, I just came to drop off Ace here, his sister was supposed to, but she had an emergency. We’re great friends so she asked me to do it, seeing it is in my patrol area anyway,” I said and the principle nodded.

“Say, can I take a picture for the schools instagram?” He asked, I contemplated for a bit, before just deciding to agree.

Both me and the kids all posed again as the pictures were taken. At one point, I swooped Ace of his feet and got him to sit on my neck, making him laugh and the other kids giggle.

After the pictures were taken, the kids hurried off to play elsewhere and I turned to the principal.

“Say, I’ve been talking to Ace’s sister, and I heard he has been having some problems with bullies, is that correct?” I asked and the principal looked nervous.

“Oh, well, we had a meeting about it a few days back, but, we worked out that it was just a bit of fun, nothing big,” he waved it off and my eyes narrowed.

“Hm, interesting, seeing as he came home yesterday with bruised elbows,” I said and the principals eyes widened.

“Oh that is concerning,” he nodded hastily, “we will look into it, I promise,”

“I am happy to hear that,” I said, glancing at the four boys who were still watching in awe, but didn’t dare walk up to me. “I do really hate bullying, it just disgusts me, you know?” I said, I knew they could hear me.

“Yes, yes of course,” the man nodded and chuckled, “we do really not tolerate bullies here, thank you for informing me of the situation,” he said and then quickly excused himself.

He better do something about it, otherwise I might barge into his office some time later.

I waved at Ace in the distance before leaving with a content smirk on my face.

(Are you liking the fluff? Just asking… for no reason at all)

#lloyd garmadon x reader #ninjago x reader #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd x reader #lego ninjago #ninjago

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