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withleeknow · 5 months ago

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wishful thinking. (07)

chapter seven: built to break

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight

Love Me or Leave Me - Day6

The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.

Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.

Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u

Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?

Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat

That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.

It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.

You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.

The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.

Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.

You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.

It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.

You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.

Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.

To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.

Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.

You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.

You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?

For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.

Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.

There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.

Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.

When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.

You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.

"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.

"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I saw them talking at a party once."

"Okay. And?"

"And what? That's it."

"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"

"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."

The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."

You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.

"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.

"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."

You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."

"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.

The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."

You make a face. "What?"

"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"

Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.

Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.

The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.

The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."

"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"

Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.

You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.

Dove.

His dove.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.

"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."

"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."

"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.

"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."

You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.

You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...

He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.

You've missed it. You've missed him.

"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.

"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.

You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.

"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."

You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.

Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.

It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.

It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.

Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...

You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.

Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"

It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."

"The project stressing you out?"

"I guess, yeah."

"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you avoiding me?"

You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.

On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.

Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?

You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.

Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.

"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.

You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.

You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.

When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.

"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.

"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.

"Is everything okay?"

It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.

It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.

Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?

Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.

And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.

You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.

Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"

Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.

He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."

He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.

Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?

Then he continues, "For me, at least."

And there it is.

It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.

You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.

Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.

He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.

Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.

Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.

One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.

"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."

Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"

"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."

You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.

He takes a step closer, you take a step back.

You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.

He blinks.

"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"

You say nothing.

You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"

"It matters if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't."

"Okay. So?"

This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"

Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.

Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.

"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.

It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.

"So you lied to me?"

"I've never lied to you."

"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."

It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.

The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.

Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 6 months ago

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relax

Summary: Frankie knows just the thing to make you forget about your shitty workweek and make you excited for your honeymoon. And it's not just the glass of wine he is offering....

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, toxic work environment, Frankie being the best hubby, nakedness, teasing, flirting, banter, alcohol, spitting, smut (oral f receiving)

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

You released a long sigh after you parked your car behind Frankie’s in the driveway, letting your head fall back against the headrest of your seat, your eyes closing as you took a deep breath.

Home at last.

It had been a very busy week at work. Which could have to do with the fact that you now officially had a whole week off and the head of your department made you feel like taking a whole week off was an attack against him personally so he had you working overtime and made sure to call you out at every chance he got about the audacity of taking days off.

You should really quit your job.

You had joked to Frankie about selling pictures of your feet instead, but the longer you thought about it, the more appealing the idea became.

He did tell you you had pretty feet….

Shaking your head you opened your eyes.

It was very not feminist of you to dream about being a stay at home wife and mom and not having to bother with work. But god did you wish for exactly that.

But all of this would be a problem for after vacation you. In twenty four hours you would be on a plane to Hawaii on the honeymoon you had been looking forward to ever since you married your husband almost nine months ago.

The wedding had been a small spontaneous affair, so Frankie and you had decided to save up for a big and luxurious honeymoon.

Getting out of the car you immediately got out of your heels, bending down to pick them up before you made your way towards the front door.

The house was a work in process. Both you and Frankie enjoyed spending your free time working on slowly finishing up your forever home.

You unlocked the door, your shoulders immediately relaxing as you stepped inside. You could hear music coming from further inside the house, and if you had to guess, you’d think that Frankie was in the kitchen. Something you confirmed as you walked deeper into your house as your nose inhaled the scent of garlic and tomatoes and herbs.

Frankie had cooked dinner the whole week, his work times more flexible, perks of being his own boss. Him and Will had opened a gym in the last year which was gaining more and more members. A joint effort of them being good at their jobs, and their office manager/ social media person posting thirst traps of all the Delta guys working out to the gym’s instagram account.

You watched your husband for a couple of moments, his broad back towards you. You could see that his hair was still wet, dome drops of water having dropped to his shoulders, darkening the fabric of the grey shirt he was wearing.

He was so damn attractive. You still asked yourself, how a man like him ended up not only choosing your but loving you so deeply, you sometimes did not know how you deserved it.

„Honey I’m home,“ you smiled as you walked towards him, pressing your chest against his back, your arms wrapping around him as you took a deep breath, inhaling his fresh scent.

„Finally,“ he said and you smiled before he turned in your arms and pulled you against his chest.

„Hi,“ you smiled sleepily up at him and he smiled back.

„Hi,“ he kissed you softly.

„Good timing. Another ten minutes and I would have come and got you,“ he whispered and you smiled, your chin resting against his chest as you looked up at him.

„Would have loved to see that. Bet my boss would not dare to talk to you like he did to me,“ you sighed and he frowned.

„He’s still being an asshole?“ He asked and you just shrugged.

„When isn’t he?“ You asked and Frankie shook his head before he kissed your forehead.

„But now you’re free for a whole 9 days. And I am gonna make sure my wife is gonna do nothing but relax,“ he promised and you smiled.

„Yeah?“ You asked and he nodded.

„Starting with dinner. Then I’m gonna run you a bath while I finish packing our suitcases and then I’m gonna eat your little pussy until you pass out and fall asleep,“ he winked and you raised your eyebrows in interest.

„Seems like you got it all planned out, huh?“ You grinned and he nodded, before his lips found yours again.

„Been thinking about it all day,“ he mumbled, slowly kissing down your jaw, his hands both running down your body until both of them rested on your ass, pushing you against him and you could feel his hard cock pressing against you.

„How I’m gonna make you sit in the armchair in the bedroom,“ he mumbled in between kisses.

„How I’m gonna make out with your perfect little pussy until the asshole who moved in next door can hear you screaming my name while I make you cum over,“ he bit softly into your neck, „and over,“ he moved his hips, „and over,“ he bit again and you gasped, already dripping into your panties.

„But first,“ he hummed before he looked at you with a grin, „we gonna have dinner,“ he slapped your ass and took a step back to finish cooking and you groaned loudly, hearing him snicker.

„Mean,“ you pouted and he turned his head to look at you.

„You love it,“ he winked and you sighed before a small smile formed on your face and you stepped closer to him, getting on your tiptoes.

„Payback is a bitch, Morales,“ you hummed against his ear, one of your hands running up his thigh, before you softly squeezed his half hard cock through his sweatpants.

He turned his head to look at you.

„Bring it on, Morales,“ he winked.

You could hear him humming in the bedroom next door, having just gotten out of the bathtub feeling more relaxed then you had in a while. Setting your glass of wine down on the sink you reached for your body lotion, beginning to rub it into your skin.

You were glad you had scheduled a waxing appointment on the last weekend, leaving your skin super soft as your fingers rubbed over it.

When you were finished you eyed your robe hanging at the door, before a small smirk sneaked to your face. Grabbing the wine glass you made your way towards the bedroom, deciding to find out how your husband would react if he found you waiting all naked for him.

Leaning in the door you watched him kneel on the ground in front of both of your suitcases which had been packed to military precision. You did not even bother to try to pack your suitcase anymore, knowing Frankie was doing a way better job anyway.

Letting your head fall against the door as you watched him you smiled.

„You enjoyed your bath?“ He asked, having noticed but not seen you.

„Very. I feel refreshed and very relaxed,“ you hummed, taking another sip from your glass of wine.

„Perfect. And great timing. I finished packing so we can enjoy our evening and get to….“ The rest of his sentence died on his lips as his head turned over his shoulder to look at you, eyes widening when he saw you waiting for him, completely naked.

„What are we going to do baby?“ You teased with a grin and he groaned, before he turned around, still on his knees.

„I know what I am going to do,“ he said, his voice hoarse.

Licking your lips, your bit into your bottom lip, before you slowly walked over to one of the armchairs that were sitting in front of the window, sitting down.

Crossing your legs you gave him a coy smile.

„And what are you going to do?“ You asked.

„Worship the woman that I love,“ he said before he made his way towards you, on his knees. If you wouldn’t already be naked, his eyes would have undressed you, his fingertips drawing a line up your leg as he reached you, leaving goosebumps all over you.

He kissed you knee as he knelt at your feet, before he slowly uncrossed your legs and parted them so he could sit down between them. His eyes never left yours as he slowly kissed up your inner thigh, humming against your skin. He pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, inhaling you deeply when his nose brushed over your clit.

You were about to set the glass of wine you had down, when he stopped you, shaking his head.

„Want you to relax and drink it while I….“ He kissed all around your pussy and you exhaled with a sigh, the hand that was not holding your glass coming to brush through his soft hair.

„God I missed this,“ he groaned, his tongue licking up a straight line from your opening to your clit, making you whimper.

„It hasn’t even been a week,“ you smiled, your fingers scratching over his scalp, making him shiver.

„Five days. Too damn long,“ he grunted before he got to work. His tongue lazily playing with your clit, in no rush to make you cum.

He was playing the long game and you were there for the ride.

By the time you were getting desperate, your glass was empty.

Emptying your glass, your eyes on Frankie you moaned softly when his tongue dipped inside of you, the moan he released downright pornographic as he tasted you.

„Always taste so fucking good for me,“ he hummed and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sometimes you had the urge to film him when he was between your legs, pleasuring you, because you had never met a man who enjoyed eating pussy so much.

You wanted another reminder of how much the man you had married loved you.

„Oh fuck,“ you moaned when two of his fingers entered you.

He parted from you only to spit against your pussy, making you gasp, fingers still inside of you, going straight for that spot that made your whole body shake, your hand setting your wine glass down as his lips went back, sucking your clit into his mouth.

And suddenly you were close.

„Shit baby. Move your fingers… yeah… just like… oh fuck,“ you moaned, your hands now playing with your tits, Frankie’s unoccupied hand coming up to cover your right hand on your tit while he worked your body towards your orgasm.

„I’m gonna cum….“ you whimpered, your hips moving against his mouth as his tongue flicked over your clit, your body shaking as you came, moaning his name, your hand buried in his hair, keeping him close as he lapped at you until you relaxed, practically melting into the chair.

Softly he continued to lick you until he pulled his fingers out, making a big show of sucking them clean.

„I love you,“ you sighed and he grinned, his cheek resting against your thigh.

„You only say that because I just ate your pussy,“ he joked, winking at you and you huffed a laugh.

„True. But I also love you when you not eat my pussy,“ you said and he laughed.

„I’m glad,“ he said, kissing your inner thigh.

„And as much as I like seeing you on your knees for me, I think you should get up,“ you grinned at him and he raised his left eyebrow.

„I think you should get up and lay down on your back on our very comfy bed and get out of your clothes,“ you said all serious, while drawing a line with your finger down to your chest, his eyes following your movement.

„And why is that?“ He asked.

„Cause I wanna ride your cock.“

#my fic #Frankie Morales #Frankie Morales x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #francisco morales #fanfiction #fanfic #frankie morales fanfiction #fan ficion #pedro pascal characters

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formulapookie · 5 months ago

Text

Under the cut to read on tumblr, here to read on Ao3 <3

I'll commit your every scar to my memory rosquez, 6k words

(set 2025)

Marc has been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now.

Inspecting for every micro feature which signaled he was getting older.

He doesn’t want to get older, he can’t.

All his career, his success had come when he was a kid and he had been nicknamed ��alien” for it goddamnit.

youngest pole sitter, youngest podium finisher, youngest winner, youngest champion.

key word being young.

he doesn't feel old, but older, god yes. Everyday.

A new source of pain coming out, an old one resurfacing, the fear of falling behind, of not fitting in anymore and of running out of time.

All present and heavy on his body, which took the hit every time.

Why he thinks that, he isn’t sure.

But he feels like he must get everything now or it will all have been useless.

It’s been one year now since he and Vale reconciled, and nine months since they made their relationship official, but only to intimate friends and their families, since Marc was still a target in the paddock, and they both knew that having a gay relationship wasn’t exactly the greatest thing to share in a sport like theirs.

And while the respective families had reacted well (except for a bit of skepticism on Alex’s side) the Academy had been more bitter, especially Uccio, but it was to be expected since he is so obviously in love with Vale since the dawn of time.

The mirror in their room at the Ranch keeps reflecting his toned and muscled body, along with his freshly shaved face and regrowing curls.

If he has to be honest he isn’t the one who brought up the aging thing.

First Vale, at his birthday, after he was officially a Ducati factory rider for that year, telling him he was “growing up”, getting closer to 35.

And it terrified Marc.

Then his brother, joking about him retiring so that he could be the only Marquez on the grid “haste que tu y Mr doctor creéis un hijo con magia y aterroricen a MotoGP” (Until you and Mr Doctor will create a son with magic and terrorize MotoGP)

And finally Bezzecchi two weeks ago.

He was talking to Celestino, to which he seemed glued to the hip, almost symbiotic, as if they only existed one attached to the other.

“Sta invecchiando comunque, magari Vale con i gusti per i più piccoli che ha se ne trova uno più giovane e meno sfasciato” (He’s aging by the way, maybe Vale with his taste for younger people will find a younger and less broken one)

“Sei un coglione Marco dai” (Marco you’re a dickhead come on)

“Dico la verità, magari tra una settimana ci porta un ragazzetto di 20 anni che lo guarda con gli occhi a cuoricino e che non sia mezzo pieno di cicatrici” (I’m saying the truth, maybe in a week the he’ll come to us with a 20 year old boy who looks at him heart-eyed and who’s not half covered in scars)

“Immagini? Tanta fatica e poi se ne sbatte un altro”

(Can you imagine? So much trouble and he ends up fucking another guy)

“Sarebbe karma” (Would be karma)

Marc had been hidden behind the door throughout the whole conversation, and a wave of nausea and vomit overwhelmed him, causing him to rush silently to the toilet and throw up.

Maybe they were right.

He was getting older, Vale had said that himself, joking about his smile lines.

He had started exercising even more, buying more products for skincare and trying to act like he was 20 again.

And suddenly he didn’t feel pretty anymore, he just wanted to ride a couple laps on the dirt track and forget about it.

He looks at himself one last time, not failing to notice the faint line of a wrinkle in the corner of his eyes staring right back at him, menacing.

He puts on his gear, ignoring everyone in the kitchen and heading straight for the track, grabbing the bike with the bright orange “93” plastered on front.

It’s the best way to shut his mind off, it’s just him and the track, the bike being a direct extension of his body.

He completes ten, twelve, fifteen laps then he slips, bike flying out of his hands and his body tumbling down in the dirt.

His arm hurts, but his brain aches more.

Finished finished finished.

He goes to grab the bike to climb on it again when he feels a pair of arms around his body. Vale.

“Are you ok Marc? Do I need to grab your painkillers? I’ll help you back on the bike if-” the older one gets cut off harshly by Marc, who has pain in his eyes

“I can still do things Valentino you know?”

He's angry, his tone bitter and his words harsh.

He’s not like that and Vale knows, he’s tender when they speak, they’ve hurt each other way too much already to be cruel to one another now.

Vale has a concerned expression painted on his face, his eyes quickly running to Marc’s right arm, then to his face again.

“Let me get up”

“Ok but-“

“I want to do some other laps let me do them”

it’s not a plea, or a begging, his voice is resolute and firm.

Vale is visibly worried, but lets him.

He looks as Marc gets back on the bike and restarts, the corner of his eyes caught by Bezz and Celin giggling between themselves.

Marc gets off the bike after one hour, when his body cannot take it anymore and his brain is foggy enough with thoughts about breaking, turning, speeding.

He leaves the bike in the garage, stripping out of his leathers, the only clothing underneath a sleeveless adherent black top, half dirty from soil and grass.

And just when he was convinced to have sedated the thoughts for at least a good few hours his eyes trace the outline of his scar, dead tissue on his arm.

He goes to their bedroom bathroom quickly, to avoid more sensations to overwhelm him, getting into the shower and turning the hot water on, letting it rinse away scenarios where he’s not present in Vale’s future. He spends at least twenty minutes under the water, washing himself carefully and almost trying to clean away the scars littering his body, obviously without succeeding.

As he gets out of the bathroom he’s only wearing a towel around his hips, and he inevitably meets his reflection staring back at him from the mirror.

He wants so desperately to see the 20 year old wonderkid he used to be, but that’s his past. Marc knows time passes for everyone, it takes from you, sometimes more than it should, sometimes it’s harsher on your body and sometimes on your soul.

He isn’t fucking eighty he knows that but still. He’s grown. He’s not the starstruck kid Vale first met and with whom shared many nights during their rivalry.

He’s a grown man now, he looks different, he can see the tiredness in his own eyes, pain sometimes so much it eats his body whole, the same pain which has him stay awake some nights.

And he knows Vale is older than him but Vale is also Vale and no one in their right mind would ever question his capacities or greatness, not even if he was 90.

And like Bezzecchi said he had a taste for youngsters, full of life and ready to do whatever he said as if it was a command.

He used to be one of those, but now…

He hears his name getting called downstairs for dinner, yells back he’s getting dressed and will soon be there.

He avoids the mirror while changing, his body feels wrong every time he tries to look at it, his face transpires the worry sleeping in his chest.

They all eat together, Pecco is there too, he’s getting used to sharing spaces with his future teammate which is good, but Bezzecchi is there too, casting funny glances at his best friend making them both giggle while sometimes looking over at Marc. He speaks maybe four words during the whole dinner, his brain feeling like it’s underwater and needs to be saved from drowning into the abyss.

As they finish eating he helps clean up the table and when he’s proposed to stay and watch a movie he fakes a headache, heading upstairs and leaving the academy to enjoy their time.

Not even two minutes later he’s in his boxers under the sheets, back turned to the glassy hell his mirror has become.

He hears the door opening and quiet steps making their way to him.

“Ei amore, everything ok?”

Vale’s tone is tender and caring, something which only surfaced once they reconciled, a side of Vale making him humane, not the cold and distant concept of a God Marc still had in the back of his mind.

It was good in a way, but on the other hand it made him feel weak, like he needed to be spoken softly otherwise he would’ve broken like glass.

“Si, I’m a bit tired and have a headache, can we just…can we just sleep?”

It was the most obvious of the answers, the fakest one, and yet the only one he could give him at that moment.

Valentino nods, taking off his shirt and pants and climbing into bed, Marc laying his head on Vale’s stomach, feeling the man’s hand stroke his curls gently.

Valentino is tired too, he had to follow an event all day and close a contract for VR46, he falls asleep in a half hour, while Marc has his eyes wide open in the darkness of a night lightened only by a pale moon in the distant sky.

He hears his mind speaking again, telling him how he’s not himself anymore, he’s not what Vale wants and he’s not the best Vale can have, because afterall he is THE Valentino Rossi and everyone wants a piece of him and Vale could feel entitled to request a piece of every one just because of who he is.

You’re not the one Vale deserves.

He could have them younger, prettier, faster, better.

He could have someone he can be seen with, with someone he could bring to races and shit like it was normal to do.

He could have someone who didn’t try to fight him so hard back then.

A new rookie maybe, fast, magnetic, idolizing him.

Vale would have every right to just let him go to find someone who doesn’t look so broken, who doesn’t risk getting more and more broken every week.

Perhaps he wants children.

And well for how much you can adopt kids maybe, no surely, Vale wants his kid to look and be like him.

Marc doesn’t cry, but just because he’s too afraid of waking Vale up, and surely seeing him acting so pathetic would be the last straw Vale would need to leave him and go find someone else.

So he doesn’t, he cries a lot internally, he tries to trace every mole on Valenitno’s body because he’s so afraid that in a matter of time he’ll be unable to see him like this again.

or feel the heat of his body next to his own.

Afraid to wake up without the smell of his shampoo or go to sleep missing the pair of arms that are holding him at this moment.

He manages to fall asleep after more than an hour, thoughts feasting on his brain like worms on a carcass, the same word echoing endlessly in his mind.

useless

He wakes up to an empty bed, no sign of Valentino in the room whatsoever, and he imagines his life could become like this in a matter of time.

He doesn’t understand how those little comments managed to get under his skin so much, he had never been the one to take those things to heart because…

because he had never actually believed any of that shit talk before.

But now he’s the first one to think that, the first to indulge on it.

He can feel a sense of inadequacy crawling in bed with him, wrapping his hands around his throat and slowly depriving him of the chance to breathe.

It’s burning and it hurts like hell, it’s ugly.

He scrambles to the bathroom, throwing up bent over the toilet, coughing and sniffing like during the worst hangover of his life.

He can make out rushed steps coming to the door, Valentino crouching down to level himself with Marc, stroking his hair and back, worry painted in his eyes.

“Marc, do you want me to get you something? Are you ok?”

Weak, undeserving, not enough

That fuckin voice doesn’t shut up goddamnit, it haunts his mind and poisons everything coming in close contact with him.

What if it can poison Vale?

What if by standing so close to Marc he’ll end up being corrupted by this voice?

No no no, he’d rather suffer alone and watch Vale be happy with someone else rather than seeing him hurting.

Because that’s what Marc is when it comes to who he loves.

Selfless, adoring and ready to let go, because he knows he’s not an easy person to put up with so he never pushes.

“No I’m ok I just didn’t digest dinner well that’s all”

“Marc”

“I told you it was yesterday’s dinner Vale, I’m already feeling better, see?”

And he smiles, the fake PR smile Vale has seen hundreds of times, he could recognise Marc’s true smile in a crowd full of people, his laugh in a room filled with clowns and most of all he could recognise Marc hurting in a massacre.

His eyes are lifeless, a veil of something trapping the joy and happiness inside, not letting them see the sun.

“Marc tell me what’s going on because you’re not ok and I am not letting you leave the room until you’ve told me what’s happening”

“I decide if I can get out of the room or not Vale, you’re not my mom, I told you i’m ok so let me go thank you”

Vale wants to stop him but he knows it would be worse, Marc would shut down and respond robotically to questions he dreads to know the real answer to.

“Marc. I won’t force you ok? But please tell me what’s going on, you look-”

“I know what I look like there’s no need to tell me”

Marc thinks of old, spent, expired, outdated.

All different words to mean only one thing.

undesirable.

And weak.

He fucking threw up in front of Vale, he almost had tears in his eyes, he had to come up with his fake smile he knew Vale would recognise, he’s so fucking stupid god how can he act like that and hope to still have a chance in keeping Vale.

He gets past him, putting on a pair of joggers and a short sleeved shirt of his and walks out the room, grabbing his biker boots and protective jacket by the entrance and putting them on, ignoring the boys sitting in the living room looking at him with curiosity.

Probably he yelled before, and they heard him.

Amazing.

He slams the door shut behind him and goes to grab his street bike.

Once he’s put the helmet on he’s alone.

Truly alone.

No other voices or sounds, not even the one in his head.

It’s quiet, like one of the earliest nights he remembers sharing with Valentino, the one in Aragon perhaps, or the many in between races when they could wander off in one of Vale’s secret spots and share everything, even the silence.

He starts the bike and goes for a ride, a long one, he didn’t bring his phone with him so he doesn't know how long precisely.

He comes back home once he’s hungry and beginning to feel tired.

Once again he doesn’t dwell on the academy boys watching him, he can only imagine what they’re saying.

He doesn’t let the thoughts come to him this time though, he just heads straight for the shower and gets ready for lunch.

Vale is an amazing cook, he prepared something that smells delicious, but Marc can’t eat more than half a plate before already feeling nauseous.

He eats everything anyway, he doesn’t want to upset Vale more, so he forces every fork until he clears the plate.

“Vale” it’s Bezzecchi’s voice, he has a strange tone to it “how’s Pedro? didn’t you say he should come to the ranch soon? To see what he’s capable of off track?”

Marc doesn’t want to suppose things, but the way he says the last sentence sends shivers down his spine

20, fast, starstruck by Vale, not half covered in scars.

Check, check, check, check.

The qualities Bezzecchi talked about a few weeks prior are all part of Pedro.

Marc excuses himself from the table for the second time in a row, feeling bad about doubting Vale but also not holding him responsible if that came up to be the case.

He had said it himself he was now the past of MotoGP, and Pedro the future.

Bezzecchi cackles from the table, Celestino elbows him in his ribcage, earning a harsh stare from his friend.

Vale just sits at the table, looking in the direction Marc had disappeared to, trying to understand what was going on with his boyfriend, because he truly has no idea and is scared something had happened outside of the peace of the Ranch, maybe someone finding out about them and threatening Marc to reveal their relationship to the public.

He decides to leave him alone for a while, maybe he’s just not used to having all these people around all the time and needs his space, a moment alone to quiet down his brain.

He spends the afternoon with the boys, racing around the track, checking and analyzing data and talking about Bezz’s newfound harmony with Aprilia.

The clock hits eight pm and they’re all hungry as hell, so the boys quickly make their way to the bedrooms to take their showers and change, since they also decided to go out tonight for a party held by one of Bezz’s DJ friends.

Meanwhile Marc had stayed in the room the whole time, spending half of it crying his eyes out because he couldn’t stop thinking about what if Valentino actually decided to break up with him again and the feeling of emptiness he would feel eventually.

The other half he spent it trying to understand how to make himself look younger for Vale, which clothes to wear, how to act, to talk, to lie when his arm hurt while they were having sex.

Fucking pathetic

He wishes he could tear his brain outside of his skull, anything not to hear that sharp voice commenting his every move and look, he just wants the world inside his mind to shut the hell up and leave him be, at least for a few hours, just that.

A few hours where he doesn’t have to worry about being abandoned by the one person he loves more than life.

A few hours where he can love himself again.

But his brain doesn’t concede him neither those few hours, it’s a machine programmed to drive him insane, unstoppable.

Vale knocks on the door, he recognises their passcode, never changed during all those years spent together.

“Dinner is in five minutes, are you coming?”

“Yes yes, just let me get dressed and I’ll be there”

“Ok, see you downstairs amore”

It cuts deep, the bug whispering in his ear the word amore is just a way to keep him close for need, not driven by real feelings.

He comes down two minutes later, a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt he stole from Vale not so long ago, still smelling like him.

He smiles softly at the man, sitting beside him, across Pecco, who greets him with a nod.

The boys eat in a rush, not speaking a word, apparently they were supposed to meet some other guys by nine and they’re never going to make it on time.

They practically absorb their food and are out the door in twenty minutes, in Luca’s car off to the bar they set as a rendez-vous point.

And so he and Vale are left alone.

He doesn't know how long it’s been since the last time they were completely alone, not even that annoying guard dog of Uccio staining the environment.

“You’re really beautiful tonight amore”

Lie

“My shirt looks really pretty on you, makes you look smaller”

He doesn’t actually like it

“Want to go upstairs?”

He just needs a release, not you.

“Yeah sure” he’s convincing, Vale doesn’t seem to notice his body twitching when his fingers touch his arm.

They reach their bedroom, Vale guiding Marc towards the bed, hands running under the stolen shirt to go catch on his abs, fingers looking for a strong grip.

They share a sweet kiss, nothing like the ones shared after their battles on track, quick, charged and filled with need.

Marc knows Vale wants those back, not these ones, too plain and domestic for him to ever like.

So he tries to pull the switch, biting at Vale’s lip, pressing himself against him, backing up until his body is caged between the wall and Valentino, who looks rather surprised at the sudden change of attitude.

“Fuck me Vale come on” it feels dirty, demanding, but that was exactly like he was back then, and he so desperately needs to feel like that again.

Vale’s lips are on his neck, biting and sucking hard, matching Marc’s tone.

It’s not what he wants, it’s what Vale wants.

And that is enough for him, he’ll just try to enjoy what was probably going to be one of the last nights together, and he didn’t want Valentino to resent him for it too.

He’ll just have to relax, think about Vale’s happiness and take it.

After one particularly harsh bite he winces, but so quickly Vale cannot register it while dragging him to bed.

The grip on his wrist is strong, possessive, needy.

It’s what Vale wants, stop being fucking selfish and let him have it.

The voice is right, he cannot be selfish and wish for Vale to stick around out of pity.

He needs to earn his lover back, who cares if he has to do things he doesn’t want to do?

In the end it’s all for love.

He lets Valentino undress him, sharp teeth attacking his nipple, making him moan loudly, he’s exaggerating a bit his actions but it’s for a good cause.

He keeps repeating to himself this is ok to do, he really wants to please Vale, it’s not bad, he used to like the sharpness and rush of adrenaline that came with battling on track so why should this be different?

He feels Vale’s hand cupping him through his boxers and he thrusts his hips up, eyes closed and hands gripping both on Vale’s hair and back, keeping him there.

“You smell so good Marc, never going to let you go”

And that’s where Marc loses his battle with himself.

He tries to keep it in but a sob comes out anyway, a tear rolling out of his eye and ending up on the pillow underneath his head.

And Vale knows Marc. He knows the difference between a sob due to pleasure and this.

This is not Marc enjoying it so much he cries, this is Marc not enjoying it at all.

He stops, getting up and sitting in front of Marc who has his eyes closed, hands balled into fists and his mouth shut in a rigid and thin line.

He’s fucked it up, he let his own feelings ruin everything again.

He doesn’t want to look at Vale, to see the disappointment and displeasure which surely the older has in his eyes right now.

He can’t bear to see how pathetic he is in Valentino’s eyes.

You ruined it for him, good job.

His head echoes with this thought, he was almost there, so close to faking it perfectly but he had to fucking cry.

He didn’t even cry in front of Vale when he told the world he hated him and he should be off the sport, but he cries for this.

“Marc?” Valentino’s voice is filled with something, it sounds like concern, fear almost.

“Marc, would you open your eyes?” no he can’t he fucking can’t because they’re filled with tears that are just going to spill out if he does, he doesn’t want that, he doesn’t want Vale to see him weak and scarred and broken.

“Amore please, what’s going on? Did I hurt you? I’m sorry if I did just please open your eyes and tell me”

There, now Vale even thinks it’s his own fault, amazing, really fucking amazing, another step towards separation.

Vale is so fucking worried right now, Marc is practically crying in front of him, trying to hold his tears in to seem tough but his body is shivering and his lips already trembling.

If he seriously went overboard and hurt him he’s going to punch himself in the face, he would never want to wound Marc.

“Amore?” It sounds like a plea, and it is, he’s begging for an answer, because he has to know what he’s done wrong.

Was he too harsh? Too demanding? Did he hurt his arm? How many possible things may he have done wrong?

Marc gathers what little forces he has left and props himself up, sitting on the bed and opening his eyes, but he doesn’t look at Vale.

He wouldn’t be able to see him even if he wanted to, tears clouding his vision and falling on the bed.

Vale grabs the shirt he discarded earlier on the bed, the one with a wrinkled 46 printed in front in a now not so bright yellow font.

“You’re shivering Marc put this on, you’ll get sick if you don’t” he lets Vale dress him, he feels like he doesn’t have control on his body and it makes him go insane.

He always needs to have control, otherwise how can he handle reality?

He finally manages to look up at Vale, and the man can see the pain rooted deep into his stare, and he aches.

He aches because how could he not notice how much Marc was truly hurting? His eyes look like the ones he had back in 2014, after the press conference where he first broke his heart.

God that stare, the haunted gaze he had that day, it will haunt him forever.

A kid, he was a kid and he managed to kill him.

And now he looks like that kid again. Confused, hurt, crushed and dead.

“I-I’m sorry I ruined it Vale, I didn’t mean to I-” he stops, a hiccup interrupting his words “I can’t I’m not what you need right now and I get it” What was he saying? What does he mean not what Vale needed? He is everything Vale needs and way more than what he deserves.

“I just…I thought I could at least still let you have this but I can’t even fucking bring myself to ignore myself for this while”

Vale is so confused right now, because he doesn’t understand. Why is Marc talking like he’s going to fucking die in a minute? Why should he ignore himself?

He has so many questions but he cannot even pose one, his lips sealed by incredulity.

And Marc on the other hand feels like he isn’t even deserving of an answer, he wants to scream and cry and beg Vale for a chance, but he doesn’t.

Finally Vale manages to speak up, the feeling of instability being suppressed by the need to understand what was killing Marc’s mind.

“Marc, what are you saying? let me have what? you didn’t ruin everything and what’s with the 'I'm not what you need’ thing?”

It looks so real to Marc now, the concern and the preoccupation radiating from Vale.

You failed him, you just had to shut up and endured and you fai-

For the first time this week he manages to shut the voice up, sending it back to the hell it came from long enough to be aware of the fact Vale really cares about him.

He breaks down, crying in front of the man he loves for the first time.

It’s ugly and messy, and he’s fuckinging exhausted, he wants to hold Vale, he wants to be held by him, he needs to feel at home.

And even if he doesn’t say that explicitly Vale gets it, he throws his arms around the boy, keeping him there for a while, not bothering to check how long, he places him on his lap, Marc’s ruffled hair tickling his neck as he continues sobbing into his collarbone, shoulders shivering at every sound.

He gets his head up from Vale’s neck, and fixes his gaze on Vale’s.

“Please Vale promise me you won’t leave me for someone younger and prettier, because I know you could do that anytime if you wanted because you deserve it but please don’t, I know I’m not beautiful like before and that I’m broken now and that you should be with someone who doesn’t hurt himself every week and I know I can’t do what I did before in bed but I swear I’ll try to do it again, and and I get it you could have anyone because you’re you but I only want you please please I love you I can’t let you go I need to be with you I know it’s so pathetic and dumb but I beg of you don’t leave me”

He rushes his words out, one attached to the other not caring anymore if he sounds weak, his face is now completely wet with tears and Vale’s shirt is soaked as well, but he doesn’t care, it feels like he let go of an enormous weight and is finally free.

Vale's answer comes like a helping hand to a drowning person, the hand that grabs yours and drags you out of the angry waves keeping you underwater, your lungs burning.

“Marc I- I don’t even know where to start I mean…why would I ever leave you if you’re the best thing I ever got the chance to have in my life? Why would I need someone younger when I have you and how could I want someone prettier when no one’s more perfect than you?

You’re right you’re not as beautiful as before, you’re far more breathtaking now, and you’re everything but broken, do you think that just because you fell and injured yourself you aren’t attractive to me anymore? Those scars symbolize you never giving up. They are one of the most attractive things you have, amore.

Marc I don’t care if we cannot have that rushed sex we used to have when we raced together, I love what we do now, I adore it, I feel much more connected to you, back then it was adrenaline and desire, now it’s love and need, I wouldn’t trade it for any sum on money in the world you must know this, I would never want to hurt you or force you to have sex with me if it hurts you, ok?

And I don’t fucking care I am who I am, or the fact I could have anyone else because

I. have. you.

And you’re the only one I want or need or dream about sharing my life with, you get it?

I love you Marc Marquez and I’ll be damned if I let these thoughts get to you and make you act like that.

I’m never going to leave unless you want me to, because I already left once and I hurt you and myself and I cannot go through it again.

It was the worst period of my life because I looked for you every night and you weren’t there, because of me.

I should be the on worrying about you leaving me because of what I did, never never never the opposite”

And now Vale is crying too, his eyes holding onto Marc’s gaze like his life depends on it, like he needs an answer to breathe again, because he too feels like he’s drowning and being brought to safety by his lover.

“You still love me? You swear?” It sounds so feeble and desperate Vale wants to open his chest with his bare hands and gift Marc his heart as proof of his love, because the only way he could doubt his love for him would be Vale not showing it enough, not doing everything the boy needed to feel loved.

“Of course I still love you Marc, I never stopped, and I never will, I want to share my whole life with you, you are my star and I will never let you say those things about yourself again, got it?”

“Even if I’m older now? I’ve got scars and lines and I look-”

“You look perfect. Listen I know I said I don’t believe in therapy and all that shit but I just- it’s just I didn’t like what they told me there and I decided to shit on it, but it actually helped me realize I still loved you and if you need to go there to understand how much I love you I’ll pay for it, I’ll bring you to your appointments and I’ll accept whatever outcome you get from it”

It feels good now, to Marc. It’s like he got dragged out of a stormy ocean onto a tropical beach, sunny, warm, quiet and calm.

Quiet.

No wretched voice demonizing or belittling him, just Vale, the only other presence on his dream beach, so close to him he can feel their hearts beating in unison.

He locks his fingers with Vale’s, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“Yeah I- I want to go, because I don’t want to feel like this again, I need to free my mind. Do you understand me? It’s so full it feels like it’s going to explode”

Yes, Vale knows. He’s gone through it more than he likes to admit, and he just nods, pulling Marc even closer, pressing a sweet kiss on his forehead, feeling the boy relax under his touch.

Marc tilts his head, looking up at Vale, and goes to plant a soft kiss on the man’s lips.

No rush, no lust, nothing except deep love and trust, a feeling of peace hovering over the couple who drifts to sleep together, Marc being able to dream of a beautiful snippet of his life with Vale, them together at the Ranch, not worrying anymore about hiding because Marc is retired and nobody will say anything, Stitch and Shira running after a kid with big blue eyes in the garden, the academy boys discussing who’s the favorite uncle.

Marc and Valentino holding hands, Marc’s head on Vale’s shoulder as they look at the little girl laughing, playing with the dogs and the grass.

It’s domestic, soft, and quiet.

So quiet.

The only sound being the laughter coming from their friends and families and the dogs panting behind the buzzing girl.

She looks like Vale.

She calls him and Marc picks her up, she smiles, they’re happy.

There’s no need to worry anymore, Vale never left him, Marc neither, they went through Marc’s insecurities together, they didn’t let go of eachother.

In the real world Valentino is smiling, putting Marc to bed, covering him with their sheets, dreaming of the same thing.

A life, a future with Marc.

#alice writes #my fic <3 #rosquez #angst #lots of angst #tw throwing up #tw self hate #tw intrusive thoughts #marc marquez #valentino rossi #bezz #celin #pecco #vr46 riders academy #motogp fic #motogp rpf

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lillylvjy · 2 years ago

Text

Girl, (your the one I want)

a/n- this is a scene in a book that I just finished reading and it was my favorite scene in the book so I just decided to write it with Wilbur:) enjoy!

Warnings// swearing, kissing, cheesy fluff, brushing each others teeth, tell me if I missed anything:0)

Not edited!!

Wilbur was rarely home at nights. And if he was, it was later at night, usually near midnight. But tonight was different. The band all agreed to take a day off and to just sit back and relax. So all you and Wilbur did today was wake up late, cuddle and watch movies together and bake cookies (you had to make an agreement with him).

But after you and Wil watch one last movie and had dinner, you both decided to go to sleep early so you both could get up early tomorrow morning. As the movie ended, you started to get up out of Wilbur’s hold, but got held back by Wilbur’s arms wrapping around you tighter.

“Nooo! Please don’t leave. You’re warm and cozy.” Wilbur whined as you finally got out of his loving hold.

“Wil, I’m not sleeping on the coach. And plus I need to wash my face and brush my teeth. So it’s either you can sleep on the coach or you can follow me and get ready for bed with me. Your choice.” You said as you walked down the hallway to your guy’s shared room.

You heard him groan, and soon enough you heard the patter of feet on the hardwood flooring, making quick strides to catch up with you. Soon enough, you were being lifted off the ground by arms wrapped around your waist from behind, carrying you to the bathroom as you laughed.

“Wilbur put me down!” You laughed as you both finally reached the bathroom. Wilbur put you down but quickly lifted you up and placed you on the sink. Wilbur came really close to your face and put your noses together.

You giggled. “Hello my love.” You said as you placed your hands on the back of his neck.

“Hehe, you look like a bug. My little lady bug!” Wilbur said in a high pitched voice as he started to tickle your sides.

“No! No, no, no! Wilbur, please! Haha! Truce, truce!” You laughed as you squirmed in his embrace. Wilbur quickly stopped tickling you and smiled at you. You smiled back at him and rubbed your noses together in an eskimo kiss.

“I love you.” You said to him. He giggled and licked your nose as you scrunched it.

“I love you more, ok let’s go I need to brush my teeth.” He said, clapping his hands in a chop chop manner.

You gawk at him in disbelief. “Oh hell no! You don’t get to do that.” You told him as he laughed and put his hands up in surrender.

“Ok, ok! Im sorry, now can I please brush my teeth?” He asked you, kissing your hands.

You went to move out of the way, but you quickly stopped yourself and smirked. You always meant to tell Wilbur about this thing you read in a book you read a couple weeks ago. But he was never home so you never got the chance, but now, now you can. “How about we brush each others teeth?” You asked him.

He raised his eyebrows and had an amused grin on his face. “Now where’d this come from?” He asked as he looked at you as you grabbed his tooth brush.

“A book. I found it cute and I wanted to try it out.” You said while getting his tooth brush ready and handing him your toothbrush. He smiled and hummed in agreement.

“Ok, but be prepared to move out of the way.” Wil warned.

You saluted back at him and brought his tooth brush up. “Ahhh.” You said, as if you were talking to a little kid. He laughed and opened his mouth as he also started to brush your teeth. “A, B, C, D, E-“

“What are you doing?!” Wilbur laughed as you continued to brush his teeth.

“I’m singing the alphabet obviously. “ you said as best as you could and rolling your eyes.

“Not the sass.” Wilbur replied back as you both laughed.

“F, I, J, K-“

“L, M, N, O, P.” Wilbur started singing with you.

“Q,R,S-“ you said as your motioned for Wilbur to continue.

“T,U,V” Wilbur continued as he giggled.

“W, X, Y, and Z. Now I know my A, B , C’s! Next time won’t you sing with meeee!” You sang as you finished brushing each others teeth. You quickly got down from the counter and let Wilbur go first. Soon after it was your turn.

After you were both done, you grabbed your face wash and quickly put your hair up. As you did you felt hands on your waist and looked up.

“What?” You asked as you looked at him.

“Nothing you just look really beautiful.” He said as he put his chin in the crook of your neck and left a kiss there. You quickly looked down fro his gaze to hide your flushed face.

“Are you going to wash your face? You should.” You said looking at him.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” He asked, faking an offended tone.

“Noo! I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant it’s good for your skin and everything.” You said as you grabbed a hair tie for Wilbur just in case he said yes.

“I know love. And yes, I would love too.” He said squeezing you tightly.

“Ok now let me put up your hair!” You said turning around.

Wilbur quickly moved away from you as he put a hand up to stop you. “Absolutely not!”

“Wil! Your hair is like a fucking lions mane!” You laughed at him.

“And it’s going to stay that way until the EP comes out darling.” Wilbur finishes as he leans in to kiss you.

You kiss him back and pull away to look at him. “Yeah but once it’s out, we’re getting rid of this.” You said as you ran your hands through his hair.

Wilbur smiled down at you. “That’s fine with me love.” He said, as he kissed you one last time. “Ok now can we please hurry up so I can go to bed?!”

“Screw you.”

Taglist: @deadphantomsociety @jadeissues @aimi-chann

#lilly writes #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #wilbur dream smp #dsmp wilbur #wilbur x y/n #wilbur x you #wilbur mcyt #wilburfromlvjy #x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader

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sheluvv-gambino · 1 year ago

Note

You should actually do a part 2 for e42 miles x British reader and don't worry take your time!♡♡♡

"I don't have an accent, you do!"

A/N: Yes i been gone, i go to college now doing work. Your girl has been busy. Anyways here I am getting to requests. No I didn't proof read so yes if there is mistakes, im very aware.

pairings : e-42 miles morales x black fem!reader

summary : You and Miles start to get closer whilst you share a class.

Yeah icl your gonna have to read this >>> Part 1

After finishing your lunch you start to head to your last two classes, which happend to have none your new friends.

Lucky me...Room 14b.

When you got to the door your face graced a smile as you saw the fine stranger that helped you earlier on today.

Miles.

"Wassup' British girl?" Miles asked looking you up down with a glint in his eyes.

"I have a name you know?!" You laughed as you walked in finding a free seat to sit down in the new setting.

"You think 'ion know that, pretty girl? It's a pretty name for a very pretty girl. I didn't know they made such gorgeous girls in England." Miles grinned following you to a seat next to you that just so happend to be free.

You looked down and smiled shyly not making eye contact with him.

"Uh uh, don't go all shy on me now."

Looking up to meet his eyes you say, "Well from what I hear you're quite the antisocial. Apparently your cold to anyone who's not your friend? You don't even get seen talking to girls!" You slyly said, your accent rolling right off your tounge captivating Miles right in that moment. You could've sworn you saw his pupils dilate.

"Well maybe I only just found the right girl to be warm too."

But before you could even respond the teacher had started the lesson

"So do any of you know what you would need to know if you answered a 'True or False' quiz to get zero percent...?"

-----------------

"C'mon Y/N you gotta come out with us!"

"Yeah it's your first night in in New York with friends."

Your friends pleaded with you to come out with them after curfew, apparently everyone sneaks out to chill after ours.

What you didn't know is that Miles' friend group and yours had been conspiring behind both of your backs.

Miles' friends had heard him talk about the girl with the 'Pretty accent' all day long and they knew if they didn't get you two together quick they were never gonna hear the end of it.

Your friends on the other hand just wanted their new British to experience love so they could have a new couple to gush over.

They both came to the conclusion that they needed you together for their own reasons but most of all because they had both seen first hand that what you had going on despite only meeting only a few days ago. It was love blooming right in their faces and both groups refused to let that light go out.

"Alright fine, I will come out. Does that make you lot happy or what?!" You asked chuckling at their anticts

"Yes very much!"

"It makes us so so happy."

"Now get that ass in pants that makes it looks great, you never know who you could see Y/N!"

-----------------

"This is where you dragged me to in the middle of the night? Don't take the piss." You asked looking unimpressed as you looked around the slightly crowded basketball court with music blasting from every direction.

"Yes, trust me you are going to love it in a minute." One of your friends replied as they dragged you somewhere.

The rest of your friends giggled as you got closer to another group.

You glared at them suspiciously not liking being left out of a topic surrounding yourself.

"We just want to talk to another group of friends. They're guys but trust me they are so nice. You might even meet one you like." Another one said with a fat grin on her face.

"I doubt it." You denied as you finally met with the other group.

Suddenly your friends started talking to the other members of the guy friends, leaving you alone with one with a purple puffer.

Great... now awkward silence.

"Oh it's pretty girl with the pretty accent!"

You look up at the sound of the familiar face and laugh when you see who it is.

"I don't have an accent, you do!"

"You do realise you're the one in a different country? You didn't notice this being New York did you?" He smirked at you looking down to see your bottoms fitting snug around your hips.

"Ha ha so funny Miles," You deadpan "So what do you hang out here regularly?"

"Yeah something like that," He answered licking his lips. He couldn't help it, you just looked too fine. "Now you look exceptionaly fine, do a spin f'me mami."

He took one hand up in the air as you slowly spun around to show him your body.

He stopped you spinning by putting one hand on your hips and pulled you in.

He dropped his face to your ear level leaning down and whispered, "Y'know I'm glad you came to Visions, I really am. I want to get to know the pretty british girl."

You pulled away slightly and looked into his eyes with hope in your eyes as he cupped your face in his hands and put his plumped lips on your pillow lips kissing you slow with passion.

-----------------

"Are they kissing yet, I can't see."

"Well Harry if you moved your fat ass head then maybe you would know!"

"Shut up you two, can we just be glad that we did this now instead of waiting to watch them pine for months before getting together by themselves."

"We'll tell them this story at their wedding."

#across the spiderverse #spiderverse #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles g morales #prowler miles #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales earth 42 #black reader

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rmd-writes · 7 months ago

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks @cha-melodius @hippolotamus @mammameesh @kiwiana-writes @happiness-of-the-pursuit for the tags. I'm sure I've done this before but I can't find it to see how long ago!

How many works do you have on ao3?

What's your total ao3 word count?

591,653 but that's inflated by a number of collabs, I think the number is closer to 400-450k

What fandoms do you write for?

RWRB, 911 LS and SC (rarely these days)

Top five fics by kudos:

Excluding any collabs (there's a couple in particular that are right up there)

Everybody needs good neighbours | RWRB | E | 14.3k | neighbours au

to the victor, the spoils | RWRB | E | 19.4k | lawyer au

yours for the afternoon | RWRB | M | 4.6k | coffee shop au

what, like it's hard? | RWRB | E | 65.1k | lawyer au, the prequel

I want you, I need you, oh baby oh baby | RWRB | E | 7k | college au

Do you respond to comments?

Yes, I try to! I'm not always prompt but I do respond to almost every comment

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Happy endings only here. I do have one unpublished Tarlos ficlet that's kind of a Queen Charlotte inspired future fic that is the saddest thing I've ever written which is the result of @howtosingit saying "whatever you do, don't think about X" which of course meant that I did and I wrote it in a fever dream, cried then buried it in my gdocs.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them hahaha

Maybe the ending to what, like it's hard?

Do you get hate on fics?

I've gotten some strange comments but I don't know that I'd class it as hate, as such (thankfully)

Do you write smut?

nah yeah lol

Craziest crossover:

It's not a proper fic, but I wrote this in response to an ask about what would happen in Alex & Henry, David & Patrick and Carlos and TK all met.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not as far as I am aware!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes and I love it! I've done collabs where we each write a chapter, one where we each wrote a chapter and then fully co-wrote the final chapter, a full co-write with @welcometololaland (that ended up morphing into each of us alternating chapters), and I'm in the process of another co-write with Lola atm.

All time favorite ship?

you can't make me choose

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't like to say never, but probably the SC paint & sip au

What are your writing strengths?

based on the comments I get - smut with feelings, banter/dialogue, characterisation

What are your writing weaknesses?

World building, pretty metaphors, I'm far too fond of run on sentences to the point where if I was beta reading my own writing there are SO MANY sentences that need to be cut down so that the reader can breathe.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

If it fits the character, I love it! I generally ask a native speaker to help me with translations for accuracy

First fandom you wrote in?

Schitt's Creek

Favorite fic you've written?

I don't wanna choose

I've got no idea who's done this already but I'll tag @welcometololaland @everwitch-magiks @clottedcreamfudge @indomitable-love @three-drink-amy

@never-blooms @freneticfloetry @strandnreyes @heartstringsduet @reyesstrand

@indestructibleheart @orchidscript @maxbegone @carlos-in-glasses @beautifulhigh

and an open tag if anyone hasn't been tagged and wants to play 💖

#20 questions #about me #rmd writes

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jeonghaniehaee · 7 months ago

Text

txt reblogs

master post

consists of txt fics i have personally enjoyed

order will go: name/link + author, synopsis, and my notes

you can probably tell my bias from all of my reblog lists…

read at ur own risk, some fics may be 18+ and not meant for minors

likes + reblogs for the original writer are appreciated from everyone 🤍

soobin:

all for a bet @/jjunieworld

choi soobin has always been the popular kid surrounded by his popular friends. y/n... not so much. one night, soobin and his friends make bet that soobin can't get y/n to date him in a month. unfortunately for y/n, they're a hopeless romantic.

notes: THE ANGST? THE FIGHTING? BEOMGYU LOWK BEING A BITCH? AAHHH THIS SMAU IS SO 💕💞💓💗💝💘💖

yeonjun:

📂 working on it..

beomgyu:

e-daters! @/suwbuns

moving back to korea from america, y/n is excited to reunite with her old friends and make new ones. what she doesnt expect is to find herself reuniting with her “ex-boyfriend” from 10 years ago who she dated over minecraft. what makes things worse? he happens to be her favorite streamer who she has been pinning after for years.

notes: it’s says to be announced so i’m going to assume it’s not finished but so far these are super funny and cute too 🤞(i might be a lil obsessed)

taehyun:

killshot @/wave2tyun

your life seemed to have taken a turn for the worse the minute kang taehyun stepped foot into the spy agency you worked at. wanting to take on a challenge to prove yourself worthy of the top position, your plans were turned upside down with his addition to the mission. you didn’t think things could get any worse, until they stated one clear, mandatory condition: the two of you had to pretend you were a couple.

THE ENDING IS SO CUTE OMG AND THE PLOT AND THE sSTORY OVERALL IS JUST 😭😭😭🥹🥹

february 14th @/jjunieworld

this has to be the worst day of your life. and just your luck, the day keeps repeating. over and over again. and you don’t know why. you get to relive the same day where you finally garner the courage to ask your crush, kang taehyun, out and get to relive the part where he rejects you each time.

notes: omg this story is so cute and even the parts of angsts are just *chefs kiss* istg all these taehyun writers are messing up my already taehyun messed up heart!!!

6:41 a.m. @/jjunieworld

you’re awoken early in the morning from taehyun’s alarm to go to the gym and decide to go with him. you end up distracting him from his routine with your staring and decide to encourage him with kisses to help him.

notes: super cute read and something to read after angst (read this after feb 14th from the same writer 🙏)

cherry wine @/wave2tyun

there were many things that you were good that. cooking, however, was not one of them. the minute your uni opened up a cooking course held by the culinary arts students, your friend made sure that your name would be the first one to appear on that list- without telling you about it, of course. but, what happens when the instructor is cute?

notes: this one is pretty sweet and such a attack to ur heart with how fluffy it is 🥹 a must read frfr

huening kai:

summer’s over @/hueningsloverr

many generations ago - like, many - your family purchased a beach house in a small coastal town a few hours away from where you were living growing up. and so, every summer right after school got out, you stayed at that beach house for a month and a half, until school started again. and it had been that way your entire life.

notes: omggg 😭😭 the emotions? the angst? it broke my heart but genuinely everything is oh sosososososo perfect 🥹

any recommendations to add? send in an ask and i’ll add it in🗞️

want me to make a different groups recommendation list? add in an request too 📃

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kosmicdream · 2 months ago

Text

I got this ask on curiouscat but.. the site wont let me post my reply?? so i just decided to put it here since i dont get a lot of questions these days. so i like to answer them when i actually have something more to say. this one also went kinda off topic but w/e.

Q: How do you keep the motivation to work on all your long comics? I always start and then abandon a project cause another distracts me or I feel unsatisfied with the result... I admire your commitment so much!

===

Aw, thank you! I really appreciate it. But don’t get too discouraged.. I get distracted too! I currently have 9 ongoing comic projects with 2 more i eagerly want to start drawing, and at least a dozen concepts on the backburner that have been around for sometimes over a decade. I think that what I’ve found, is that starting a new comic takes so much time. It takes a lot of time to get a story really rolling, time to learn how to draw the story how you want and in a weird way - having a longer comic you’ve had more experience with, you can pull a lot more things from. I generally find that FFAK and NRD are much easier comics for me to work on because of all those years of experience with them. But it still can get demoralizing if i focus too much on the faults or how long I still have to go. Sometimes its easy to feel that readers have lost interest and moved on, or its just not as good as you wanted it to be, ect. If you look for reasons like that, reasons to demotivate you, you’ll find them in spades.So i try my best to NOT do that, because working on a comic is hard enough.

In a weird way, when i sometimes find myself in the pit of struggles like this - i realize every author ive ever read has been in the same shoes as me. There is no artist that just magically has it easier and never runs into some challenges like this, some challenges can never be overcome because they’re part of the experience of making the project. There’s limitations involved and things change overtime. You won’t always have the same experience with the same story as you make it, or the same feelings involved. Sometimes that's really hard to let go of, if you feel the earlier years were so much better than the struggles you have now. I know I faced that hurdle with FFAK and I am currently going through that with NRD, but even the harder times do change too. It never gets easy to make a comic, but it changes.

With FFAK, i don’t honestly know how I will finish the complete story. I often struggle too, especially with the third (final) arc, if it really is good enough. In a way, a lot of places of it feel incomplete and rushed, so I tend to worry a lot about how that will go. However, I never thought i’d have a comic like FFAK in the first place, so i feel really lucky to have made it this far at all. Endings do scare me, as there’s just so much pressure involved to deliver and even reach it at all, that it feels almost like an impossible fantasy to pull off in a satisfying manner to yourself or the readers. However, I do think I’ve gotten more excited to reach endings than I used to be even a couple years ago, and I have gotten more forgiving of myself for not being perfect at it. No matter what I manage to make, I’m going to have my own critiques of it because there’s improvements to be made in all aspects of the story. I’m looking forward to seeing what I can actually do so I can learn from it and be more confident in the future.

FFAK also has such a huge cast, it can be a technical nightmare to figure out. I dont envy authors like GRRM that have a seemingly endless cast to deal with. I already have so much of my hands full with what is essentially one family. And I know for my other comics that I’ve made, the cast has never gotten as out of hand as FFAK’s. But I dont mind having FFAK be like this, because it has been part of my enjoyment of writing the story too. FFAK is generally very motivating because I always have something I’m excited to share about it, and every small progress is a big reward for me. I’ve put a lot of years of work into ARC2 and i am desperate to get to share it with everyone, so I hope readers will enjoy what is to come for the future of the story even though it already is a decade old at this point.

#ffak #feast for a king #asks #idk if i have a tag for questions anymore #ffak faq

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pentagonieslut · 1 year ago

Note

hii!! this is my first time requesting something so sorry if its too vague, but i wanted to ask what do you think dkb's reactions would be to dry humping? appreciate your work and I'm glad to see a bb writing something on this app cause there's literally no dkb fics🥲

hi cutie ! i gotcha haha ! i put it in a headcanon type style too if that’s okay with you ! hope you like it ! <3

DKB REACTION : dry humping

E-CHAN:

you were at a basketball game, him hugging you from behind as you stood up for the final 10 minutes

it was packed so you were already pressed up against him

him slowly bricking up is a lie- he’s been bricked up since you were looking a little too good for his liking in public. he wanted you to look the way you looked now in private

you knew it too that he was bricked..so you took it into your own hands

first pretending to stand on your tip toes to see the players

then pretending to pick something up

finally- outright going for it

his hands grabbing your waist tightly as he hisses

he moves up and down against you, letting out the tiniest whine

“fuck if we weren’t going to an after party i’d rip your clothes off right now”

he can’t hide it so he has to change clothes into bigger ones

D1:

you guys were watching a movie

you were desperate to have some attention since he just revoked your punishment from testing him two weeks ago

deciding the movie was a good time to try to get some action, you moved

you turned around to koala bear hug him and play a ‘im tired’ card

he thought nothing of it and started stroking your back gently to lull you to sleep

moving your hips, he froze and glanced at you quickly thinking you were just joking

when you continued on he got what you were trying to do and let you continue

“babydoll if you wanted me to help you feel something, you should’ve asked”

he lifted his hips up as if to thrust into you causing you to whimper from his action

he just continues watching the movie and let’s you help yourself- his motto:

want it? work for it.

once you grinded harder down against him, continuing to make yourself get off

“did you finish princess? good girl, now let’s clean up this mess hm?”

TEO:

(his fucking arms,, i want him to choke me like he hates me with a burning passion)

you were doing the take me down dance that he created, preparing to do a dance video to it

both of you have the hots for each other but he doesn’t know how to ask you out since you’ve got the powerful aura that makes everyone bite their lips

you were wearing shorts since you’ve been practicing all day and just a sports bra

part of the choreography had you hovering above him- just a couple of inches above him

couldn’t stand the fact he was unintentionally be teased

your legs started hurting and you ended up sitting on top of him

which he was okay with

continuing to dance that part, you grinding on him as you only have a sly smile through the mirror

the loudest groan leaves his mouth

you both forget about the dance and he smashes his lips against yours as you continue grinding on him

once you stop and get off him as to not get in trouble, you wink at him and disappear for a ‘break’

HEECHAN:

with him i highly doubt you’ll even dry hump

like deadass

wooyoung’s little brother frfr

as soon as he started

he’d stop and just fuck you then and there

please when he danced to PTSD

FUCK

has the prettiest whines i bet

but tease him enough, he might just show you why he’s the head choreographer

GK:

this is unintentional but

you were all in the car

they wanted to take you to this luxe studio they rented since it reminded you of the one you have back home

you were sitting in his lap, the road being bumpy

you planted yourself as hard as you could against him

the bouncing didn’t help the fact that every twist and turn you were grinding on his throbbing cock

whispers into your ear

“please try to hold onto something that will give you stability and not make you move”

his face was red because he was with his members

they wont let him live it down

his moans were about to burst through his throat

only wished for it all to end

LUNE:

you were at the pool in the middle of the night

he had his eyes closed as he relaxed and listened to the music coming from the speaker

sneaking onto the daybed next to him

you grin and rather than hump him, you lick a stripe up his cock

simulating that you were sucking him off

you suck and he opens his eyes and moans

he’s pretty but that moan is prettier

lemme stop before my thoughts win

JUNSEO:

FUCK HES ADORABLE

I LOVE U BIG BEAR

anyways

y’all were sleeping

then it got hot

so you started moving whilst in his iron bear hug

he woke up because you were moving way too damn much

hearing your whines turned him on and he bricked up

“b-baby please? stop moving? let me sleep?”

he forced you awake and gave the cutest smile that had the scariest meaning behind it

sheepish apology

can’t recover so he dances away

YUKU:

he’s so soft my heart 🥺

he’d be sort of surprised that you even asked him

this boy just smiled and says sure

you take it slow

the tiniest sound made by someone else besides the two of you makes him freeze

he’ll help you or try to make you feel good

might even pull something out his ass that yuta aniki taught him

he laughs at your whines and smiles softly

encourages you to do it as many times you like

he might even get handsy and do something for you instead

HARRY JUNE:

“right now? for real?”

“hyungs are going to come in soon”

“try it”

sitting in his lap on the dance floor

under the guise of finding a comfortable position

he moans out loud once

then chokes and turns red

keeps his head down

notices his precum showing

gets shy

is shocked that he can’t combat nor tease anymore

all because he’s chokeheld by you

now he wants to just go to his room and screw you until you black out

#kpop #dkb #dkb d1 #dkb heechan #dkb gk #dkb smut #dkb harry june #dkb yuku #dkb junseo #dkb lune #dkb teo #dkbk fic #dkbk fanfic #dkb echan #dkb imagine

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mimiplaysgames · 2 months ago

Text

The Bed Story, ch. 9 (Denial and Worship)

Terraqua Week 2024 Spice weekend, Day 9

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: E (Explicit) Word count: 5,146 @terraquadreams

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for the things they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: Omg it's over. ;-; This fic was named after Amanda Palmer's "The Bed Song." When I first heard it a couple of years ago, I cried at the end of her lyrics, they blew me away. I knew I wanted to write a fic to that song, but frustrated with myself at not having any ideas was one of the reasons why I went on hiatus. Now I finally have something. Another song that fit Terra so much was Staind's "It's Been Awhile" if anybody remembers it.

Ahhh it was so nice to write for them again!! I am just so sad about this empty space in my heart now that it is finished. Hopefully I can remedy that while I try to finish my other fics. It just might take me much longer. Thank you all for reading. It means so much to me. <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra shuts the door behind him.

She’s on the edge of her bed, her legs spread open to give Ends of the Earth the space to stand. One claw gripped tight on its hilt, the other palm sliding over the blade. The width of his Keyblade hides her body. Her movement nudges a breast, but Terra can’t see, and when she kisses the hilt, he feels it on the edge of his lip.

“How many of me do you want?”

Terra stops short of an answer when hands, two, four, six, come out of the ether to explore his waist, his neck, his chest. Kisses behind his earlobe. On his shoulder. Claws unbuckle the emblem tied around his waist, lowering his pants. Kisses on his navel. Kisses lower.

The one who attacked him in the Realm of Darkness kneels before him and kisses the space between his groin and his thigh, chilled ice on steam. Terra’s knees go weak. She takes his length into her mouth. Slowly, the weave of her tongue under his skin. She sucks. Terra would collapse if the other hands weren’t holding him up.

One of the Aquas hangs from the air—the kinder one he met before—grabs his face and takes his lips, slipping her tongue inside. She tastes like snow on earth. Terra can barely intake a breath from all the shuddering. He tries to move, tries to hold this Aqua before him, but the ones seizing him stay firm, and he slams back against the door.

The moment Hanging Aqua allows him space to breathe, he says, “You. Just you.” The others stop their fondling, waiting for him to say more. “It was always just you.”

The Aqua hanging over him smiles in that unsettling way these clones do, and dissipates into smoke. The others let him go and disappear.

Aqua, on the bed, lays Ends of the Earth against the wall. With a low voice, she says, “Make me warm.”

Terra throws the hakama sagging on his knees off, and rushes for her. Everything is a hurry: grabbing her face, teasing her lips open, relishing the softness of her breasts in his hands, her hard nipples under his thumb. Aqua wraps her arms around his neck and lures him down, her back hitting the bed.

The rough texture of her tongue in his mouth. The way her neck bends to his lips and she moans and smells like ash and pure magic. The way her breasts mold to his kisses. The way they taste like skin and smoke. The way she trembles when he licks her nipples. He kisses the space under, and lower, and even lower as she spreads her legs wider. Terra kneels before her, and her legs hook over his shoulders.

Aqua holds onto his hair as he tastes her clit for the first time, and the tightness from his arousal surges across his abdomen. She’s soft, stars, she’s soft, quivering against him as puckers his lips and sucks. A bitter taste, a sweet satisfaction. She pants harder, gripping a knot in his hair. Inside her is warm—she has warmth, deep inside where she may not realize it, a small boiler in a large empty house where the heat doesn’t reach. So he tastes her. And she moans. And he tastes her, stroking, and she’s warming up. He keeps one hand on her hip while the other opens her up for him to eat.

“Lay your tongue flat,” she says.

He does, and she grinds against him. She’s wet, stars, and he’s hard. Her tremors hit more pronounced, and at times she holds her breath to feel, then exhales with a whimper.

“Ter—” Her breath hitches.

Terra takes this as a hint to enter her again and lick up. Her hips rock to him.

"Don't stop," she whispers. A warning.

It’s when her thighs squeeze him and her body lurches and she moans that Terra knows he’s done it for her. She’s coming.

She slackens. Terra smiles. Stars, to make her feel this good. Thank you, he prays.

Before he joins her in bed, Aqua sits back up and brings his face up to meet hers. He’s harder just at the thought of her tasting herself on him.

“On your back,” she says to his ear. Her icy claws arrest his wrists over his head, against the pillow.

She straddles him, but instead of positioning herself to let him enter her, she grinds her balmy wetness against the length of his arousal, compressing him onto his own abs. He's long wondered what it would feel like to be touched by her. Any touch, he's prayed for. Every touch, he's wished for.

No fantasy of his compares.

“Oh, Aqua.” He huffs, squirming. She won’t let him go, won’t let him move as she works her magic, slowing down to kiss him, speeding up to give him more. Grinding. Terra watches the subtle movement of her breasts. Stars, all he needs is her skin to fill the void in his hands. “Let me touch you,” he says, his voice breathy.

She kisses the side of his mouth. “You wait.”

His back arches as contractions course over his body slowly, stronger and stronger as the waves pummel over him to a point that he won’t be able to stand against them anymore. He’s clenching, he’s throbbing. Warm. Wet. Soft. Fuck.

“Aqua,” he warns.

“You wait.”

“You’re going to make me come.”

Aqua stops and lifts herself, disconnecting from him. She chuckles.

Everything he strives for... struck down to a screeching halt. The sudden challenge against him sends him reeling with a dull pain at the fact that he isn’t allowed to finish. “Aqua?” he whimpers.

She once again bends over, kissing him at the edge of his mouth. “You wait.”

Terra tries to wiggle free but her reflexes hold him down. He glares at her… and she likes it. “You want to fight?”

She twists her grip on him. “Hmm.”

“Final warning. I’m stronger than you.”

She bites his lower lip and pulls. “Prove it.”

Fine. Terra uses all his strength to peel her clutch off him and twist her arms behind her, to lift her higher on his thighs as he sits up. She’s hungry, seizing his mouth before he gets a chance to do it first. Even when she fights against his strength and uses her flexibility to slither off his grip, Terra finds her again and holds her down, pressing her body against his while he drinks her starving kisses.

Stars, he loves the way she whimpers with need as he slams her on her back and pins her down. She wraps her legs around his hips and he enters her, moaning into her mouth. Tight. She’s tight. Pleasure this good is a blessing. And Terra grieved for it—not the feeling itself but the anticipation of its arrival, when he wondered about the missed opportunity, always regretting. He channels that burst of anger at Xehanort into work, thrusting into her and loving everything he’s been robbed of.

Terra cups the crown of her head from hitting the headboard. He should lower both their bodies, but he’s too busy keeping his kisses in rhythm with his pelvis pushing into her. He lifts one of her legs up to go deeper, and she groans against his mouth. Her claws dig into his back, and Aqua asks, “Harder.” The hairs on his neck stand.

He digs his face into her neck, eating everything about her body. She arches her back to press her chilled breasts against his chest. Her insides stretch and contract around him, and stars, those contractions are coming back, starting deep between his legs, rolling over his abs, digging deep into his sternum.

“Keep going,” she murmurs, and the sound of her enjoying him will send him over the edge.

Tightness rolls over his abs.

“I’m going to come.”

Her thighs grip him tighter. Her lips are at his ear. “Don’t stop,” she whispers.

Those contractions conjure before bursting, and Terra rides the ecstasy as it burns every fiber in his body before it melts off. Release. Terra twitches and moans, feeling it roll over him again. He drinks one last sigh from her mouth, one last kiss on his cheek. He barely has strength left, collapsing onto her while he breaths the space she’s breathing. One last, gentle kiss. A second. A third, before rolling off her with a groan.

They pant, not out of rhythm but syncopated in stutters and sighs, together. Aqua stares at the ceiling, her breath slowing down with what sounds like contentment. Terra, assured, slips his fingers through her claws and holds them to his chest. Ice to soothe the heat they’ve built up. “How are you?” he asks. “Do you feel—”

“Better?”

Terra bites his lip. He deserves that. “More good. Let’s settle on that.” He kisses her knuckles. “Do you need water? Anything I can do for you?”

She rolls on her side to face him, and Terra props his elbow on a pillow to give her room to burrow into him. She rolls her claws inward, burying them into his sternum as if thawing them over a fire.

Terra tucks her hair behind her ear, but it flops forward. Her eyes meet his. And stare.

“Hi,” he says, and lets her stare at him longer. The gold is richer and more layered than he’s noticed before. Not a fearsome symbol of something anxious and deadly, but a deep amber from a tree sap, with the sun shining through its jewel. He tucks her white hair again and it springs forward. He can’t help but smile, and he strokes her cheek with his thumb. The space beneath her eyes is sunken and shallow.

“Do you sleep much?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“Would you?”

If he lived for over a decade on edge, always expecting to be attacked, and feeling out of place in the Realm of Light wondering if he’s damaged beyond help or solace, Terra wouldn’t either.

“What can I do to help you relax?” he whispers, kissing the crown of her head.

Aqua traces his pecs with the side of her claw. Like an ice cube to quell sweat, it relieves him. “Can I have Earthshaker?”

He’ll correct her later. “Sure, but I’m tired.” She doesn’t laugh.

He summons Ends of the Earth from its position against the wall and lays it between them. The hilt is so long that she needs to wrap both claws to conceal it. What translates to Terra is a sense of repose, like nesting in a shelter. Aqua feels safe to lower her defenses, asking for a guardian. That’s what he wants to be, right? A guardian to his loved ones, loyal to his choosing. Much like when she offered Rainfell to him and it became the star he followed back, Aqua wants to know what it’s like to be protected, and not to have to worry about being ambushed.

Yet, she doesn’t let go. She asks for a shield, but she’s still holding tight to her weapons.

His heart sinks. “Relax.” She blinks with the fury of denying his suggestion. He continues, “Give yourself permission. You’re safe.”

She doesn’t answer, searching his eyes.

He kisses her forehead. “I promise.”

He watches over her like he promised as she finally, over time, eases all her trust in Ends of the Earth. His Keyblade tells him she's afraid of waking up alone. So Terra makes sure he's always in contact, twirling her hair, stroking her cheek or her shoulder, so she knows she isn't. His Keyblade tells him she's cold. Whatever warmth he gave her has dissipated. Terra tucks the blanket over her shoulder. His Keyblade tells him she loves him, which is something Terra is sure she would have wanted to keep to herself. But Terra is also sure Stormfall has told her about him.

Aqua keeps Ends of the Earth to her chest. When he’s convinced she’s truly asleep, he nestles into the blanket, settling into the appetizing soreness between his legs. There is no longer a void when he lets her go, but a reassurance that life is good, and life is forgiving. Terra, too, falls asleep in the embrace of her bed.

~*~

Aqua floats beneath the surface. There’s no oxygen here, but there’s no need for it, surrendering her body to the current. Something is different. She hears sobbing everywhere. Aqua whips her head to find them, wanting to comfort them. Cries of pain that ache to listen to, and so many voices that say, I don’t want to go.

Bodies rain around her, their bones broken like ragdolls. Her clones are trapped in a cyclone that swallows them into the deep black. Fourty-second wails as she descends, and Twenty-seventh closes her eyes, succumbing.

Third sighs.

Second screams, No! No! No! She grabs purchase on Aqua’s shoulder, and scratches when she slips.

But is Aqua terrified for her own doom? No. Tearing her attention away is the Light waiting above the surface. Not the pale glow of the moon, but a true, bright star, a warmth that pierces through the water. She reaches up, then holds herself back. What does it mean to touch a star?

First cradles Aqua’s shoulders and head into her arms, while Fourth keeps an arm around her waist, nestling her head into Aqua’s neck.

Fourth: I don’t want to say goodbye.

Aqua holds onto them both, grabbing their hands. What are they talking about? “Then come with me.”

First: We can’t follow where you want to go.

Aqua swallows. Her eyes actually burn. There's no reason why they can't stick together. “Then I’ll stay with you.”

Fourth: Oh honey, no. That is not what you want.

"It is."

First: It’s him. His star.

Guiding her way back is his Light, seeping through her skin and injecting into her arteries as it pumps life into her heart.

First kisses Aqua’s temple. I won’t be able to fulfill my promise to protect you once you go.

Fourth: She’s prepared for that.

“Wait, don’t let me go.”

Fourth says, with humor, You know how to swim.

“But—”

First: You want a tomorrow with him. Your heart asked for it, and his heart answered.

“But—” Aqua peeps.

First: Take care of yourself, alright?

Fourth: Aim for him. That’s all you have to do. But you don’t need me to tell you that, right?

They let her go. Aqua squeezes, trying to keep their arms linked around her, but they slip anyway no matter how much she struggles. She watches them sink into the gravity, and her throat traps a sob she’s trying so hard to maintain.

How can they let go so easily?

Why does she have to lose more and more?

What about her ugliness? What do you mean she'll have to bare it all naked for someone else to see?

“Don’t go.”

First: Someone has to cut the umbilical cord.

Fourth: Look up.

Terra’s star. Earthshaker, lighting her way back, and painting the black surface blue. Her heart drums, magnetized to his pull. Aqua reaches with one arm. She’s going to see him again. She’s going to feel Light on her skin again. She’s going home. Who knew hope can be dangerously fulfilling.

But as she floats up, she turns, reaching with her other hand for her friends to grab. She can’t leave them alone. She can’t let go altogether. They deserve better. They deserve this same hope. It isn’t fair.

She can have it all. She'll keep everyone.

She wills them to rise.

But they sink.

First: Goodbye, my dear.

Fourth: Goodbye, my love.

~*~

Terra jolts awake. Aqua is sobbing and shaking the bed, her breath stuttering with such compulsion that she’s not getting any oxygen.

“Aqua,” he turns over to see what’s wrong, when he sees—black smoke evaporating off of her. Human skin holding onto Ends of the Earth. Blue hair spreading from her roots. Beautiful, tranquil blue eyes looking up at him, a beach on a sunny day.

He holds her face. “Aqua, breathe.” She swallows, but doesn’t. “Follow me. Breathe with me.”

She exhales with force, inhales with trouble, exhales.

“There you go,” he says, his eyes stinging from burns, tears trickling down his cheeks. His Aqua. His beautiful, strong, graceful Aqua. “Look at you.” He wipes her tears with his thumbs, and she smiles at him, her laughter brittle. “There you are.”

“I followed—” She gulps. “A star—”

“Breathe.”

“And it brought me home.” She dissolves into a heavy cry, like she’s overwhelmed.

Terra moves Ends of the Earth over and brings her into his arms, rubbing her back as she lets it all go in his shoulder. “Welcome home,” he says, and smiles into her skin.

Her body can’t calm down, shuddering. “I’m so cold.”

“Wait here.”

He digs into her closet for fleece blankets, dragging out the nearest one, a burgundy color. Runs back to the bed and wraps her torso from the waist up, finishing it at the crown of her head. The end of the blanket hangs over and covers one eye. She relaxes, hugging the blanket close.

Stars, she’s back. Blue and blue and blue, gift-wrapped in berry.

“You look like a cupcake,” he says.

Aqua blinks, snorting. “Red velvet?”

“I’ll make you some as soon as the kitchen is fixed.”

She laughs. “Please no. You’ll burn them.”

Terra laughs with her. “You have a point. And I hate that.”

“Hate away.” Now she can’t catch her breath because she’s laughing so much, throwing herself into Terra’s arms. “It’s not my problem.”

Terra grips her waist tight, and she giggles. “It will be once I whine about it.”

“Whine away. I want to hear it.”

She means it. Terra removes the blanket from her face, and kisses her. Aqua pulls her arms out of the confines of the warmth he’s provided her, wraps them around his neck, into his hair, and kisses him back.

Before, they were desperate because they haven’t touched each other in years. Now, they are slow and diligent because they haven’t touched each other in years. Terra sits up against the headboard, and Aqua straddles him. She uses his shoulders for balance, rocking onto him, sighing into his lips. Terra guides her hips for pressure, squeezing, and brings her breast to his mouth.

He does every single thing she asks for: touch her where she wants to be touched, kiss her where she wants to be kissed, offer her all the affection she’s been denied. They giggle at accidents. They cry from the onslaught of touch. They continue this for the next two hours, until neither one of them is left standing.

~*~

Not a single textbook has prepared Aqua for this. The Master’s secret behind the castle—how Light keeps it protected, and how to use the other side of its coin in case the worst happens, turning the Land of Departure into Castle Oblivion—never came with an explanation on what to do when Aqua couldn’t change it back properly.

The castle creaks with the pop of cracked bones. All the stained glass have missing pieces. The wood floors are shredded in most of its structure, and the walls bubble from water damage. She’s already seen the castle in this state, but she hasn’t allowed herself to feel what it does to her.

Aqua must be shrinking into herself with the number of times Terra has touched her back and asks her, “You alright?”

How can she be alright, with all of this? She hasn’t stopped crying for hours. And the silence—the silence—of having to carry all of this by herself. Third is not there to cry for her. Second is not there to chastise. First is not there with a plan. Fourth is not there to reassure. Aqua has only—

“We’ll find something,” Terra says, smiling at her. “There’s got to be a solution.”

Which only makes her cry more. Beauty in everything, even in the destruction of what’s left—the light reflecting off the shards of glass on the floor like treasure; the reminder that nature takes over everything with the mold spreading; and Terra. Terra as is, smiling at her with those giant circles under his eyes, rubbing her shoulder to make sure she’s safe. There is beauty all around her, and Aqua wipes tears from her face, already reddened and swollen to begin with.

Even though they are gone, Terra is there, so she can tell him things she tells no one.

“I can do it with Defender,” she says. Even her own voice sounds beautiful—lighter, louder, more herself. Which is strange, who is she anymore?

Who is she but a powerful Master?

Who is she but a failed one?

Aqua doesn't want to answer that question right now. She wants one more moment in hiding. Back in the bath they took earlier together. Back in her bed. Back where she can pull the covers over and darken the room. Somewhere in her body language says this, as that is exactly what Terra gives her: a hug for her to hide in. He’s real, and the dampness in his shirt is real, and the gray sun is real, chill to her skin.

Cold. Even cold is a real feeling, her goosebumps coiling.

Terra kisses her cheek. “I know.”

Aqua sniffs. “You know what?”

“Everything is… a lot.” Terra shivers as he holds her, as if he’s fighting off his own tears. Again. He squeezes her, and she understands. Let go of each other, and when will they be ripped away?

“It’s quiet,” she whispers. Birdsong, and the rustling of leaves, and the groaning of the wood. Aqua has to… do something with her hands. Distract her mind. Not think about Fourth, even when she searches for her. Aqua rakes her hands through her hair—which always prompts Terra to tuck her hair behind her ear—and plans. What is the next step? What can be done today for a better tomorrow? A birth control potion, for one.

“We’ll go to the Master’s memorial, and—” What will Defender say to her? It accompanied her all these years. It never offered her secrets or knowledge, but it brought her inner strength when she lost it. Defender was a gentle giant, a legendary story with blank pages, and it shone so bright in the Dark. It was her honor to hold it as much as it was honored to be held by her. It was the mentor she could talk to. And then she lost Defender, too.

“First things first,” Terra says, snorting. “Before you get carried away.” He summons Stormfall, and offers the hilt. “This belongs to you.”

Aqua cries. Again, not at the sight of Stormfall but the absence of her companions. How First and Second would roll their eyes. “You nag.”

“You know it.” He smirks.

Aqua rubs her palms before testing out her Keyblade, now alien to her. The feeling is mutual, like a child meeting her adult self, or cringing at old diary entries. Aqua the Hopeful, with Rainfell’s blind faith that everything would perform exactly as little Aqua dreamt it to be. Aqua the Heartbroken, with Stormfall coming in the nick of time to protect her. But the journey to change into a new person was interrupted, because Aqua was no longer Aqua a Person, but Aqua the Master when Stormfall appeared.

Aqua the Tired and the Old meets a decrepit Stormfall, who might as well say, Took you long enough.

“You’re fine,” Terra whispers, helping her hold Stormfall upright and bringing the hilt to her heart. “You’re doing fine.”

But Aqua doesn’t want Stormfall to know everything. Not every blemish on her record. Not the times when she wished for death instead of Darkness. Not the self-flagellation for every mistake that trapped her there. Not the moments when she wondered if she should let the Darkness win. Not the naivete that came with believing she would win the fight instead. Not the way she finally gave up and let Darkness in. Not the way she was addicted, or the way she struggled to let go. Not the sanctuary and privacy of sex. Aqua doesn’t want to disillusion her child.

Stormfall knows it all anyway, nodding. Aqua has believed a lot of wrong things. And what Stormfall has to say is, It’s time to find something else to believe in.

Aqua weeps when she clutches Stormfall to her chest, letting it inside to settle with her embarrassment. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Stormfall says. Aqua doesn’t believe it. Suit yourself, Stormfall says. You’ll learn.

Will she? She will. She’s in control. There is space, she thinks, for her to grieve an old life, and be excited for a new one. There has to be.

Wiping her eyes, Aqua nods her assurance to Terra that she’s fine. She needs to lighten him up. “I feel better.”

Terra groans. “You’re never going to let that die.”

“Nope.”

He points a finger at her as if to challenge her, but he says, “That other Keyblade you have.”

Aqua flinches, bringing her hand to her heart. “Ah. That.”

“You need to return it.”

Heat flooding her cheeks, and this need to hide her face behind a book or something, Aqua offers at best a lifted shoulder.

Terra’s eyes widen. “It actually belonged to someone?”

Aqua can’t look at him. “I stole it from Mickey.”

“You stole it?” He grins with the fever of knowing better, exactly like he would when he answered a question correctly and she didn’t. From there, his grin stretches even wider, impressed. He crosses his arms. “From the king?”

Terra throws his head back in a belly-laughter and Aqua hides her face behind her hands. “That isn’t funny,” she says.

He clutches his stomach and leans on his knees, and when he runs out of steam, he wipes his eyes. Terra drags her into his embrace, kissing her forehead, her eyes, her lips. “Didn’t think you’d ever get that naughty. But… then again—”

She slaps his bicep, joining him in conjoined hushed laughter. “I’ll write him a formal apology.”

“Of course. Thievery from this establishment is unprofessional.”

He kisses her head as it rests on his chest. His heartbeat thrums beneath strong muscle, and Aqua holds onto his shirt as her laughter fades away. Thoughts of her friends come to mind, dampening her smile. They gave her strength to survive, and laughing feels like betraying them.

Were they friends, or fragments of her heart given voices?

Crying about them isn’t what First or Fourth would have wanted for her.

“Hey.” Terra is about to ask if she’s okay. Aqua nods to his silent question, squeezing him back.

“Aqua?”

Amazed, Ven approaches the hall with a full basket of apples at his hip, his eyes blinking, wondering if he’s seeing what he’s actually seeing.

“Ven!”

“Aqua!” He drops his basket, and some apples tumble into chasms. But neither of them care. As Ven tosses himself into Aqua’s arms, laughing into her shoulder, Aqua clings to one of the biggest reasons why she kept going. To see him wake up.

To think she was convinced she had to go back to the Realm of Darkness, leaving him behind after knowing he was awake. Thinking he would be alone with just Terra and not her in his family. To think she would have missed this moment, hugging Ven for real, on a day in the future where things would have turned out fine.

~*~

Terra steps down the front terrace. Aqua is already in the forecourt, staring at the forest’s border where the Heartless reside. The wind carries the scent of ash, which signals another storm oncoming.

Ven follows him, skipping steps. Aqua hasn’t moved on to take Defender. Terra must have asked a hundred times already, but she’s lost in her mind all the time. He rubs his thumb on her shoulder. “You alright?”

Aqua blinks several times out of her stupor. He knows her clones are gone, so there is no one she is talking to. He’ll have to be patient. She’ll break this habit eventually, when she’s ready. “Hm? Oh. Yes.”

Ven stands on her other side. “What’s going to happen to… um… Your? Heartless?”

Pinching her lips together, Aqua shuts her eyes, but tears fall anyway. “They will all be vanquished when the castle returns to normal.” She sniffs, catching her breath. “I don’t know why I survived, and they didn’t.”

Another question without an answer. Terra doesn’t have a proper response. They are probably going to do that a lot: ask questions about things they’ll have no closure for. He tucks her hair behind her ear and says, “We’re giving them a second chance. They’ll ascend to Kingdom Hearts, and reunite with their loved ones.”

Aqua looks at him, staring, as if waiting for someone else to whisper in her ear. Another habit that will eventually fade once she finds the solace of normalcy, living in her skin again. It’s just going to take time. She nods, then slips away. Again, not a void left behind, but a gentle knowing that she will return to him.

As Aqua approaches the Master’s memorial, Terra turns his back to give her privacy with Defender. He’s sure they have a lot to say to each other. He slips his hands into his pockets, and Ven mimics, kicking a rock.

“So…” Ven starts. That tone though…

“Shut it.”

“You guys are together.”

Terra’s mouth twists with shyness. “New, um, development.”

Ven scoffs. “I’ve known since I was thirteen.”

Terra coughs. “We were doing nothing when you were thirteen.”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I swear.”

Ven shrugs. “If you say so.” He steals a glance back at Aqua and frowns, quickly reorienting himself like he’s walked into something intimate. “What made her change back?”

Terra closes his eyes and rolls his shoulders. They are definitely going to search for a hiding place. “Sometimes,” he says, earnestly, “we need someone else to believe in us, you know?”

Ven looks at the gray sky, and nods. “Yeah. I get that.” He smirks. “If you say so.”

Terra slams his palm onto Ven’s head, digging into his hair.

“You know,” Ven says, attempting to wiggle out of Terra’s control. Failing. “It takes twenty minutes to get my look right.”

Terra plasters Ven’s hair onto his face.

“I swear to the holy stars above—”

“No cursing.”

“Fuck you, too.”

As Ven corrects his cowlick, Aqua approaches them from behind with her eyes swollen, and Defender with her.

“All good?” Terra asks.

After a pause, Aqua nods. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

Terra and Ven step aside to give her space, but to Terra’s surprise, Aqua doesn’t aim Defender at the castle. She instead offers its hilt to him.

“It was always supposed to be the two of us,” she says. “Together.”

The Defender? Terra grits his teeth, not sure if he should go for it, or tell Aqua that she should do it alone. But then, he doesn’t want her to feel she has to carry this responsibility on her shoulders alone. On the other hand, if Defender rejects him, it would prove Eraqus right.

(So what? Doesn’t Ends of the Earth prove otherwise? Or maybe Terra is thinking this wrong: Ends of the Earth is a balance of his Light and his Darkness, so the Master was right after all…)

Aqua grins. “You’ll find it more forgiving than the Master,” she says, as if reading his mind.

Terra, apprehensively, touches Defender, not sure what pool he’ll drown in. What he finds, though, is oxygen. In his heart are now a thousand smiles, histories of mistakes and triumphs and self-assurance. Voices with no sound, minds with no thoughts, but an archive of experiences, a library of confidence, a tome of regrets for the greater good.

And a remnant of Master Eraqus, proud. So, so proud.

Terra cries, realizing he’s gripping Defender too tightly, which seems rude, but Aqua fastens his touch in place.

“Together,” she says.

“Together,” he says, recovering.

Aqua, with Terra obeying her, lifts Defender in the air. She says, “Here’s how we do it.”

Under a blue sky, with dew dripping over the grass and the trees more lush than they were, with his love in one arm and his brother in another, they trade the house the castle has been for a home.

That night, it’s either Terra’s bed, which is bigger, or Aqua’s, which would squeeze them closer together. Or far away, in a small cottage inn or a fancy hotel suite at a skyscraper, where the stars don’t change, and the food is served, and Light and Dark exist outside their chosen safety.

#terraqua #terraqua week #terraquaweek #terraqua spice weekend #kh terra #kh aqua #anti aqua #kh ventus #my fic

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orchidsangel · 9 months ago

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hello ml!!

i was curious abt how big of a reader you are. like, if books ever interested you or if it’s just fics of tumblr mby?

and if books for you, what are your favourite(?)?!

hi robin!!!

oh gosh, i used to be such a massive reader. like genuinely addicted to reading, could knock out multiple books in a day. i remember one time when i was in elementary school, the book fair came around, and i asked to go to the nurses office so i could get out of class and look at the books.

i think sometime in middle school, i stopped reading as much, and by high school, i almost completely stopped outside of stuff assigned for class. and even then, i would skim over stuff and just quit a few chapters in.

i've got adhd so my attention span is really short, and my brain just won't function normally when i read, so i find myself rereading the same sentences over and over again to make sure i understand them, which just gets really frustrating. so idk, i stopped reading full-blown books bc of it. which is crazy because i do still love reading, i just hate that my brain's a little wonky and won't let me do it in peace.

a couple years back, i had to take english over in summer school, and it was basically a free reading period, so i ended up reading three entire books that summer, which may not be a lot for some people, but for me, at the time, it was really big. and last year, i finally finished a book that i had started two years prior but put down because it was just fucking insane.

i hope to read more this year, and literally, just last night, i raided my mom's classic lit shelf. planning on reading dracula or the picture of dorian gray!

as for my faves, it's hard to say because every book that's really stuck with me was something i read 2+ years ago, but the party by robyn harding was one i really loved. i read it in 8th grade, and it definitely wasn't for kids, but idk, i've never been one to stick to my age group. emergency contact by mary h.k. choi was a big one for me. i read that in 9th grade as a freshman in high school, i believe, and i followed it up with permanent record also by mary h.k. choi. i really loved both books, which was surprising for me because i'm not really into romance, but what i liked about them was how the entire plots weren't focused on the relationship, like it was more than that.

when you reach me by rebecca stead was a book i read when i was 10, and i still think about it to this day. i get the urge to reread it because my ten-year-old brain couldn't fully understand what was going on, but i did really enjoy it. during that same time in my life, i read the books absolutely normal chaos by sharon creech and a crooked kind of perfect by linda urban. both are books i think about often, especially a crooked kind of perfect, i reread it multiple times.

the most recent book i finished was credence by penelope douglas which…no comment. (literally put it down for two years before picking it up again and then had to put it back down for another six months)

my most recent fave was beware that girl by teresa toten, which i really really loved. although, the ending was a little lackluster, so i choose to ignore it and focus on the parts that i loved, which was pretty much the entire rest of the book.

i also enjoyed we were liars by e. lockhart, which was recommended by booktok before they became a bunch of smut fiends. i really did like that one, i didn't expect the end, and it was a good read to me.

there's definitely more that i've read in my life and enjoyed. i was a big geronimo and thea stilton lover when i was a kid, along with junie b jones and any iteration of a diary that could be found (dork diaries, dear dumb diary, diary of a wimpy kid). but lately, all i read is fanfiction, and i don't even read that much anymore.

i suppose the best way to exercise my brain muscles and get back into the habit of reading is to pick up a book and read, but ahhh, my eyes get so tired, and i already spend so much time staring at words while writing and doing homework. but i do really miss the feeling of being thoroughly enthralled in a book and not being able to put it down.

speaking of a book i forgot, the cheerleaders by kara thomas was a book i read the summer before my freshman year of high school, and it's the book that made me realize i thoroughly enjoy murder mysteries set in high school.

anyway, sorry this got so long. thank u for the q; made me really happy to answer it!

#orchidsangels

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slippinmickeys · 2 years ago

Text

Three Part Harmony (11/?)

A day ago, she was certain that she and Mulder were approaching midnight on the Doomsday clock, one second away from being caught, one wrong turn from disaster. A day ago, she was certain they hadn’t had much time left, that they were a bullet’s strafe away from dying together like Bonnie and Clyde — a last stand-off with the devil. A day ago, they’d had nothing to live for but each other.

Scully took a long look at their son before ducking back into the bathroom with her wet towel. She hung it up neatly and turned, placing both hands on the small pedestal sink, breathing deeply and trying to calm frayed nerves. William’s gift was an astounding one, but she wasn’t sure what it did for them. They were still on the run with a baby to take care of, pursued by who-even-knew, and now they had no choice but to keep going, to keep pushing, to stay alive and safe.

As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze stayed momentarily on the skin between her eyes – was there even now a tiny cancerous cell growing and dividing, looking to spread its unfixable damaged DNA to the other healthy cells in her body? She inhaled sharply. She couldn’t think about that, now. There was nothing she could do about it, and so she had to put it out of her mind.

Her eyes moved instead to the dark locks of her shapeless, ropey hair; frizzy from cheap dye, the ends a mess. Her gaze moved lower to her too-sharp cheekbones, her coat-hanger shoulders. God, she looked like a consumptive Victorian. What must Mulder think of her?

“Lisa?” His soft voice came from just out in the hallway, and she gave herself one more look before turning off the light and emerging to find him standing there. “Rhonda offered to make breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you wanted?”

XxXxXxXxXxX

William was wearing more scrambled eggs than he’d eaten, but he seemed pretty gleeful about it, so Mulder wasn’t about to complain. The floor, on the other hand…

“Geez,” he said, looking at the area under the high chair where William was sitting, “I’ve seen cleaner crime scenes.” In that moment, Mulder almost froze, afraid he’d maybe said too much.

“These are the days I miss Rascal,” Rhonda said, breezing past his comment.

“Rascal?” Scully asked, after giving Mulder a look, peering up from buttering her toast. Mulder was thrilled to see her eating.

“Rascal was a snuffly old hound dog that I inherited along with this place from my uncle. Uncle Bobby trained him so if you dropped food inside the house, all you had to do was yell ‘housekeeping!’ and Rascal would come tear-assing around the corner and hoover up just about any spill. Except broccoli. That dog did not care for broccoli.”

At this, William made a raspberry sound, and every one chuckled from where they sat.

“I think William might agree,” Mulder said, rising to clear his plate and get started on cleaning up William’s mess.

Rhonda took a dainty sip of coffee and watched him with curious eyes.

“Are you a police officer, Steve?” she asked innocently.

Mulder glanced at Scully, who seemed to be assessing the situation, debating with herself about how much they should tell Rhonda.

“I was,” Mulder finally answered, not offering up any more information.

Rhonda seemed unphased. “How about you, darlin’?” she asked Scully, who finished chewing slowly before answering.

“I’m a medical doctor,” she said simply.

Rhonda clapped her hands together. “Oh! Was it ER love?”

“Was it…?” Mulder asked, stymied.

“ER love,” Rhonda explained. “You know, he brings in a GSW, and you fall in love over a gurney.” Rhonda swiveled her eyes to Mulder, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Or were you the one who was shot?” she went on breathlessly, then took a moment, calming herself. “I’m sorry. I’m a romance aficionado. You name the trope, I’ve read four. Was it ER love? Am I close?”

Scully couldn’t help a small smile. “There have been many gurneys,” she said quietly.

“Couple gunshot wounds, too,” said Mulder, trying to hold Scully’s eye.

“So how did you meet?” Rhonda asked. “What’s your story?”

XxXxXxXxXxX

On the outside, Rhonda was playing it cool, but inside…

It had all happened innocently enough. She’d been on her way back to the cabin, having successfully shipped off the package the younger couple had given to her to mail. She was elated that she’d been able to be of some assistance and had switched on the radio, the soft rock station she usually listened to in the middle of the Kenny Loggins - Stevie Nicks duet Whenever I Call You ‘Friend .’ She immediately turned up the volume and began singing along, a feeling of excited satisfaction flowing through her. When the next song came on and it was more dull and lifeless – something like the Carpenters but with less verve – she switched the station, hoping to ride her high.

The next channel up on the dial – there weren’t many that came in this far up in the mountains – was news radio, and she was just reaching for the seek knob when something clicked, and she began to tune into what the broadcaster was saying.

“-- the baby, William Van de Kamp, an eleven month old boy with blue eyes and sandy-auburn hair, is thought to have been kidnapped by his biological parents, who are now on the run, after murdering the boy’s adoptive parents in cold blood. The child’s mother, Dana Scully, is five foot two inches tall with red hair and blue eyes. She’s thought to be traveling with Fox Mulder, a man currently on the FBI’s Most Wanted List. The couple is considered armed and extremely dangerous. Anyone with information is encouraged to keep their distance and call the FBI’s nation-wide tip line at 800-555-7834 .”

Rhonda leaned forward and switched off the radio with a quick flick of her wrist, her pulse pounding under her skin.

She drove like an automaton, her mind spinning through various scenarios, each one more far fetched than the last. The woman at her house, Lisa, little William’s mother, had dark hair, but her bright roots had begun showing, and Rhonda knew from roots. And the man, Steve, obviously devoted to his wife and baby, had a darkness about him that Rhonda hadn’t yet been able to place. They had been nervous, and scared.

Had Rhonda unwittingly helped people who had just kidnapped a child and brutally murdered two innocents? She flashed on her parents for a moment, thinking of their lifeless eyes dully reflecting the burning cross in their yard.

No. No. Rhonda was a better judge of character than that. Wasn’t she?

Without realizing it, she’d turned onto the long, winding driveway that ended at the cabin in which the trio of people awaited her return. She was determined to give them the benefit of the doubt, but she was equally determined to get their story, to find out exactly what was going on so that they could deal with it head-on. Taking a deep, steeling breath, Rhonda psyched herself up and grabbed her purse, slamming the car door and heading for the house.

They were being evasive. She probably wouldn’t blame them, but for the looks Steve and Lisa kept exchanging, each one packing in arguments, discussions, entire conversations into a two-second glance. It was damned off-putting.

She’d offered to make breakfast, had a fridge full of bacon, eggs, and juice, a full loaf of bread, far more food than she could ever eat on her own in the weekend she would be here at the cabin. They’d be doing her a favor, she said, if they could help her eat all this so it wouldn’t go bad.

Seated around the dining table, she’d asked them how they met – yet again – and Lisa had merely said “at work,” and left it at that.

Fair enough, thought Rhoda. There was clearly more to it (her heart still set on a romantic ER meet-cute), but that wasn’t something they were really duty-bound to share. However, she’d asked what their story was, and she did feel entitled to know what it was they were all into here – and she was included in the ‘they,’ now, no two ways about it.

“And your story?” she asked again. “How did y’all end up in my little diner? And what brought you all here?”

Another one of those looks between Steve and Lisa.

“I ask,” Rhonda went on, her heart in her throat, deciding to lay it all out there, come hell or highwater. “Because on my way back here this morning I heard a radio report about two people who kidnapped an itty bitty baby and maybe killed some people to do it, and that don’t sit right with me.”

She expected them to immediately decry the story, or maybe even to laugh, but instead, Lisa turned white, and Rhonda watched as the muscles beneath Steve’s cheek jumped as he clenched his jaw. Her skin prickled. God, she’d taken a risk.

Damn the torpedoes.

“Your names aren’t Steve and Lisa, are they?”

“No,” the woman said. “They’re not.”

The man inhaled as if to say something, but the woman spoke again. “Mulder,” she said, and Rhonda’s heart started pounding even harder, recognizing the name from the radio broadcast. “We need to tell her.” The woman’s eyes flicked to Rhonda and then back to the man called Mulder. “We need to tell her everything.”

Mulder wouldn’t meet either of their gazes. “Do you intend to turn us in?” he asked quietly.

Rhonda wasn’t sure of the right answer here. In reality, she thought that maybe the first thing she should do was head straight to the local Sheriff’s office, but if these people were murderers, there was no reason to think they wouldn’t kill her first.

“Did you really kill that baby’s adoptive parents?” she asked outright.

“No,” the man said, finally turning to look her straight in the eye. “They were already dead.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

By the time they had wrapped up their story, the weather had worsened. Winter had arrived unapologetically, wreathing the valley in snow. William was at the window, watching it fall in fascination.

“I’m sorry, Rhonda. I know it’s a lot to take in,” Scully was saying to Rhonda, who looked like she was expecting a television crew to come around the corner any minute and inform her that she was on Candid Camera.

“That’s,” the other woman started. “Yes.”

How long had the woman suspected them? Mulder wondered. She’d put herself at great risk to quarter and protect them already, and in the end, Scully was right; she deserved to know what she was getting herself into. Whether or not she believed the fantastical story.

Scully was sitting next to Rhonda, a reassuring hand on the woman’s knee. “My name is Dana Scully. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

Rhonda gave Scully a watery smile and looked over at Mulder, who gave her a sheepish grin.

“Mulder,” he introduced himself, holding up a hand in greeting.

Rhonda merely nodded, processing all she’d been told.

A snowy gust of wind made one of the big window frames in front of the cabin creak, and Mulder walked over to where William was sitting and picked him up, turning him back so that he could continue to look at the weather.

“That’s snow, bud,” he said quietly.

“‘No,” repeated William.

Mulder couldn’t help what was probably a goofy grin. The sensation felt odd, foreign.

“So the men that were in the diner,” Rhonda finally said, “they were the ones who-” she took a look at the baby and stopped herself from saying “killed the boy’s parents,” but Mulder heard it all the same.

His face fell. “Yes,” he said, turning towards her. “Or at least they’re all working for the same people.”

“And who is that?”

“A question for the ages,” Mulder said, keeping William in his arms and making his way over to sit in a chair in front of the fire. He expected the baby to want to get down and crawl around on the floor a bit more, but the boy stayed on Mulder’s knee, looking at him curiously. Mulder looked back, studying the child’s emerging features.

“God, those poor people,” Rhonda said.

If they’d lived, Mulder thought, they would have been in for a fight. Not just against the powers that sought William out now for God-knew-what, but from Mulder himself. He had not legally signed away his parental rights when Scully gave William up for adoption. If and when he cleared his name and rejoined society, he’d had plans to fight for the baby. He knew Scully had done what she had to do all those months ago, giving him up, but hadn’t they just proven that William was safest with them?

Walking away from them right after William was born had felt like leaving the atmosphere, the force required to pull away from their gravity a necessarily jet-fueled propulsion. Any lesser thrust would have surely failed. He would not do it again. It was the three of them now, or nothing.

William reached up, running his soft little hand into Mulder’s beard to give it a tug.

“Time for me to get rid of this?” he asked his son.

Rhonda seemed to rouse herself from her fog and sat up straight.

“Mulder, is it?” she asked, and Mulder nodded at her. “Mulder, you’re on your own shaving, but if you’d like a haircut, I did a stint in beauty school.”

Mulder slashed his eyes over to Scully.

“I don’t think the disguise threw them off,” Mulder shrugged.

A moment, and then:

“He’d like a haircut,” Scully said, her gaze never leaving his.

Spray from Rhonda’s bottle of water fell over his shoulder like mist, then the teeth of her comb sunk into his hair and he closed his eyes at the sensation.

He was sitting on a high stool in the middle of the kitchen, a beach towel around his shoulders, secured in the front with a chip clip.

“It must have been hard,” Rhonda said from behind him, her voice soft. “Being away from them.”

It was an odd feeling, being doted on, being cared for, and it made him feel imbalanced. He thought back to those few months right after he’d come back from the dead, how he’d almost immediately then been on the run; how off-kilter that time had felt. Mulder suddenly found he was a father and then just as suddenly was not, and that kind of whiplash could wrench you down to your atoms. His eyelids rose of their own accord, his gaze seeking out Scully, who sat on the floor across the cabin with William on her lap, reading him The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

“Mm,” he hummed, watching them.

“But he was still hungry,” Scully read, her voice a sweet tone that Mulder had rarely heard.

“Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he said, low and quiet. Scully couldn’t hear them talking, and went on reading the board book, William absolutely riveted.

“Sounds to me like you’ve been making sacrifices for a real long time.”

Mulder didn’t know how to respond to that and didn’t.

“Have you ever had a chance to be a quiet, peaceful family together? Ever?” Rhonda asked, the sound of her scissors shushing through the air.

“We had one night,” he said, thinking back to the Gunmen dropping off gifts – the last time he ever saw them alive. The next morning, he and Scully had made the decision for him to leave.

Rhonda paused what she was doing and put her hand on his shoulder. “I hope you three can find some peace here,” she said.

Mulder closed his eyes again as she restarted her tender ministrations. He hoped so, too.

Night fell early, the Earth turning its back on the sun. Outside the cabin, all was dark and still, the trees at rest under a new blanket of soft, white snow.

The house itself was quiet, at rest, Rhonda having retired when they started filling the mammoth farmhouse kitchen sink, where they gave a delighted, slippery William a warm, sudsy bath.

Earlier in the day, Rhonda had pulled out an old pack-n-play from the back of a closet (“my cousin’s,” she’d said). They’d set it up in the room next to Mulder and Scully’s, and now had William fed, bathed and drowsy, rubbing his cheek softly against the front of Scully’s shirt, dressed in a fuzzy new pair of footed pajamas. Rhonda had pulled a soft old quilt from the back of the couch and it waited for William in his new old bed, looking warm, but smelling a bit fusty. Mulder stood in the doorway as Scully carried the boy to the crib, where she pressed a lingering kiss to his soft, round cheek.

“Night night William,” she said, lowering him to the mattress, where the boy, eyelids drooping, immediately laid down, rolling onto his side to face the other side of the room. Scully stood over the bed, and Mulder knew she found it difficult to move, to leave their son there. He eased his way back into the hallway so that she didn’t feel pressured to leave until she was ready, and made his way to the bathroom.

Mulder smiled in the bathroom mirror, already filing away the memory for future circumspection.

Rhonda had done a halfway decent job on his hair, he thought, looking at himself in the mirror. She’d clipped the longish pelage that curled over the back of his collar and shortened up the back and top, making him look more like himself.

One of the lights above the sink winked off and then back on, and he reached up and ran a hand over the weft of his beard, pulling on the bushy hairs like his son had done earlier in the day. Rhonda had thoughtfully left out the hair clippers, shaving cream, and a light pink women’s razor that only had two blades. It would have to do.

Mulder grabbed the shears first, cutting away what he could of the bulk of his beard, leaving his jaw as patchy as a lawn after the first thaw. He then wet his face and spread on the shaving cream which smelled vaguely of raspberry and chemicals, and was just raising the razor to his face when he heard a quiet shuffle behind him.

He turned to find Scully standing in the bathroom doorway, her face blank and unreadable.

“He out?” he asked quietly, and Scully nodded and moved into the narrow space with him.

“You okay?” he asked as she purled her way around his body like a cat, maneuvering herself in between him and the mirror.

“I’m okay,” she said, and then hoisted herself up to sit on the lip of the vanity.

Wordlessly, she reached up for the razor, which he relinquished to her gentle grasp.

Peering at him as though she were studying a corpse and deciding where to cut, she finally put one finger under his chin and pushed lightly, tipping his head back so that she could get at his neck.

He remembered the last time a woman had shaved him, recalling the acrid scent of smoke that had sat in his nose for days after, the layer of ash that cast itself over everything like a mantle, the hazy, orange California sun. He closed his eyes. Scully’s hands felt nothing like Kristen’s, who had shaved Mulder with seductive intent. Scully’s hands were warm, sure; they moved with a methodical precision.

Mulder opened his eyes when she tilted his head back down, surprised, just for a moment, by her dark hair. And while she began running the razor down his left cheek, he reached into the collar of her shirt and hooked his finger through the gold chain she wore there, pulling the tiny cross out, where he ran his thumb over it, the metal pressing an X of warmth into his skin. He held onto it as she finished, only letting go when she had to lean over to grab a towel from behind him, which she used to gently wipe the remaining foam from his face.

Turning to set down the pink razor on the back of the sink, she was more level with his face and he took the opportunity to move himself closer to her. When she turned back around, their noses were practically touching.

Scully reached up with both hands, fingering his freshly shorn locks.

“She did a good job,” she said quietly, roving her eyes over his face.

“Do I look more like the man you fell in love with?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “You’d need to be in glasses with a slideshow backdrop for me to really see it.”

Mulder smiled and leaned forward to press his lips sweetly to hers. When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead forward, resting it against the heavy weight of her own.

“We have him back, Scully,” he whispered, her breath gently warming the newly tender skin above his lip. “However it happened, and whatever happens next, we have him back.”

Scully levered her arms around his neck and pulled herself tightly to him.

“We have him back,” she said, repeating his refrain in chorus.

#the x-files #fanfic #my fic #msr #wip #family fic #but not fluff

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nenyabusiness · 1 year ago

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Writer Asks

Tagged by @myfavouritelunatic and @cliffdivingsblog, thank you!

How many works do you have on AO3? 24 on one account, 43 on another. (I'm telling you, I'm juggling two hyperfixations.)

What's your total AO3 words count? 201,385 on my reylo/haladriel account, 123,964 (100k redacted because of a fic-turned-novel publishing deal) on my Final Fantasy/JRPG/anime account.

What fandoms do you write for? Currently, Tolkien (Rings of Power with touches of Silmarillion) and Final Fantasy XIII (fine, @shadowmeowth, accept that we're more or less co-writing now, FINE).

What are your top five fics by kudos? - A reluctant compromise (reylo, force bond smut) - Whatever It Takes (reylo, WIP that will probably never be finished, I'm so sorry) - The Wolf (reylo, post TLJ-smut) - You'll Be Mine (reylo, force bond smut) - se vis pacem, para bellum (haladriel, John Wick AU) I was on a roll with the reylo force bond smut there for a while.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I didn't use to until about half a year ago. Until then, I didn't see writing fanfiction as being a part of a community the same way I do now. I recognize most of my commenters now, so it feels more natural to turn the comment section into a place for dialogue. (Yes, anyone-who-have-commented-on-a-fic-more-than-a-handful-of-times, I do remember you and I'm always happy to see you come back!)

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? This made me laugh, because in a different lifetime in a different fandom (okay I'm talking hope/light 2012), I was called "the Queen of Angst". I was still struggling a little with writing in English, so I relied a lot on the same kind of writing that you guys see from me today in my ficlets. Short, straight to the point, and packed with emotion. Easy way of getting around that little issue of, you know, not being able to describe things. It's hard to choose from those, but I remember people being really upset about this one: - The nameless soldier In this fandom, most of my ficlets are pretty angsty, but I think this one might be one of the most tragic: - but still the door is closed

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think Four Hours a Day wins the race here, even if se vis pacem, para bellum is a close second. Four Hours a Day might be the only fic I've written that's pure feel-good.

Do you get hate on fics? Back in the FFXIII fandom in 2012, that was just your everyday morning news. The shipping wars were ruthless. Pretty intense from time to time with reylo too. I've only gotten hate twice in the haladriel fandom, and one of them made me laugh so hard because the thing they decided to dunk on was actually taken straight from John Wick.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, yes I do. It used to be limited to M+ territory, but I managed to cross the threshold into proper E with Four Hours a Day. I've always been more intrigued by sexual tension and buildup rather than the actual mechanics, but I'm in an experimenting phase.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest one you've written? Do I even have to say it? I'm going to say it: se vis pacem, para bellum. John Wick x Rings of Power x some Silmarillion. When I first got the idea, I thought it was so bizarre that I would probably be its only reader. I was proven wrong. Good times.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes. A lot of FFXIII fics were scraped and reuploaded on a different site a couple of years ago, but we managed to get them removed.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yep! The fic that I later rewrote into an original work was translated into German and French, and one of my reylo works have been translated into Russian.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have. I wrote a scene together with @youwearfinethingswellwriter a couple of months ago, and I'm currently in some kind of symbiotic writing relationship with @shadowmeowth.

What's your all time favourite ship? I can't choose between haladriel and hope/light. I just can't. I've got two hyperfixations and neither seem to be willing to let me go. (And one of them has had a hold over me for 13 damn years.)

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Definitely Whatever It Takes. I didn't have an outline when I started, and then the project just grew too big. I knew, ish, where I wanted it to go, but I didn't know how to get it there. I'm really sorry about abandoning it though, because I had so many lovely followers. (Fun fact: I actually got to apologize for that, 7 years later, when one of those followers started commenting on my haladriel fics. The reylo/haladriel venn diagram is a circle.)

What are your writing strengths? Thanks to the editors I worked with when I got my novel published, I learned a lot about writing action scenes and how to control the pacing. I'd like to think that at least some of it stuck. I'm also good at writing short. It's not necessarily an altogether positive thing, but I do know how to get something across with as few words as possible. (Oh, the things you do to avoid describing things when you're writing in your second language.)

What are your writing weaknesses? Second. Language. Writer. My prose is efficient, but it will never be pretty or effortless. And I'm really, really slow.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Unpopular opinion? It's a pet peeve. If it's already established that a conversation is held in a certain language but written in English, there's no need to add phrases from that language to the dialogue. For me, it just makes it look like the characters were speaking English all along. Just... pick one. Full translation or plain English.

First fandom you wrote for? Final Fantasy XIII. Never left.

Favourite fic you've ever written? It's a tie between se vis pacem, para bellum and Four Hours a Day. Para bellum was a four month commitment. I followed an outline from start to finish with barely any alterations at all, and it turned out exactly as planned. 4h/d was the complete opposite. I got an idea, and then I wrote the whole 12k monster of a one shot in like two days. It reawakened my love for music, and I still reread it sometimes when I need to get a music kick. Damn. That was a lot. My usual suspects seem to have been tagged already, so I'm leaving that open. Thanks again!

#not tolkien #tag games

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charmsandtealeaves · 1 year ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tags @theresthesnitch & @annabtg. I'm finally sitting at my laptop so I can do this (and have given up with the formatting being all over the shop).

How many works do you have on AO3? 72 total, but 31 are currently hidden away in a private collection and can't be seen.

2. What's your total A03 words count?

According to the stats page 308,146 3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just HP 4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? A.) Brown Boots & Breakfast Bagels Rated M, jily AU. Complete Multichapter. Lily’s love life was a tragedy of epic proportions and she had no brilliant strategy. But a chance encounter ends in a one night stand that blows her mind and leaves her wanting more. There’s just one problem… she doesn’t even know his name.

B.) One More Sleep (currently hidden) Rated G, Sirius raising harry oneshot. Three year old Harry Potter is very eager to stay awake and catch Santa Claus delivering him presents.

C.) Call Me By Name Rated E, Jily AU. WIP Multichapter. After a not-so-great breakup with a not-so-great boyfriend, Lily comes to the conclusion that if you want something done right you have to do it yourself. Whether mechanically, hydraulically, or auditorily? She WILL find the key to that currently unreachable pleasure.

D.) Evans Guide To Quidditch (and seducing James Potter) Rated M, Hogwarts Jily, oneshot. It had all started out innocently enough, a small wager between housemates on the outcome of the Arrows Vs Catapults game over the weekend. Lily hadn't intended to let slip she knew more about quidditch than she was letting on. Or to set up a fantasy quidditch league with James, but well... what's the harm?

E.) Stripped Back To Basics Rated M, Jily AU, oneshot collab with @athenasparrow In which Petunia probably regrets telling Lily to "put herself out there." Or: A Jily "Naked Attraction" AU (YES NAKED ATTRACTION IS A REAL SHOW!!!)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I used to respond to some comments, but these days I try to respond to everyone who comments even if it's just an emoji as a like "hi yes thank you for your comment I see you I just don't know what to say!"

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angtiest ending? I don't know if I've ever written an angst ending... nothing springs to mind anyway. 7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I think most of my fics end up with happy endings or at the very least open hopeful endings.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I wouldn't call it hate... but I did once get a couple of people debating in my comment section that Lily couldn't be friends with Sirius before dating James because it would be "taking away from jily's relationship"

9. Do you write smut. If so what kind? I don't really understand the second half of the question, but yes I do write smut.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Nope

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? I don't know if stolen is the right term, but there was a period years ago where some on my one-shots kept being posted on Instagram. Sometimes with credit, others not. 12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not that I'm aware of.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? Yes! and I would love to do it again. I did Stripped Back to Basics with @athenasparrow and june jilychallenge Ice Breaker with @jamesunderwater

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? This will surprise no one, jily. 15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Previously I would have said the fic I started over a decade ago... but I am actively trying to finish it and it is one of my publishing WIPs (we're gonna ignore the fact it's in desperate need of an update). It is currently publishing under a new name tho: Wake Me Up (When September Ends)

16. What are your writing strengths? I manage to sprinkle a little humour into most of my fics.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Sticking to an update schedule... even though I always start with the best of intentions.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don't think I've ever done it but I can barely English to be fair. I don't mind it in other peoples fics.

19. First fandom you wrote for? HP

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? I answered this as Stripped Back To Basics yesterday... I'm struggling to like my writing at the moment. But I enjoyed this first ever collaborative project and now Athena is a much beloved friend. tagging (and apologising if you've already been tagged): @merlins-sequined-hotpants, @uncertainwallflower, @practicecourts, @abihastastybeans

#charms was tagged

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zprites · 1 year ago

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May All 4-1!

Here we are folks! Happy May!

This is my submission for the TMNT All 4-1 Challenge.

The lovely hosts: @turtle-babe83, @thelaundrybitch, @leosgirl82, and @post-apocalyptic-daydream ❤

Prompt I chose: "You did what, now?" - "You heard me. What are you gonna do about it?"

This takes place in the What Better is Like universe, set after the events of the main fic so slight (?) spoilers. I did my best to not give away TOO much, so it can be read as stand-alone 😁

Rise! Donatello x Kayla (Female OC) - SFW, maybe slight NSFW (?)

Donnie and my OC are both over 20!

Enjoy!!!

Taglist: @turtle-babe83, @manduse, @morning-sun-brah, @crazysarah-98, @pacoholin, @iamdefinitelytheratking

Lavender and Lace

With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler About you many good things come into relation I think of proofs and grammar, vowel sounds, like A is for knee socks, E for panties I is for buttondown, O the blouse you wear U is for hair clip, and Y your tight skirt The music picks up again, I am the man I hope to be Lines Depicting Simple Happiness - Peter Gizzi

Kayla groaned as she fought with her luggage, cursing as her carry-on fell off her shoulder and snagging her hair in the process. The wheels of her suitcase would not cooperate with the grating of the elevator so she gave one last particularly hard tug, finally dislodging one of the wheels from where it got caught. After coming out victorious she hit the button for the top floor, carefully fixing the strap on her shoulder to free her brown locks.

One may think she overpacked for her trip, but unfortunately the weather in Texas during the week of her visit was all over the place. She planned for the rain which was still downpouring when her flight landed, for the random heat wave that spiked temperatures up during her third day and went on until the end of her week there, which was met with a sudden cold front with extremely high winds. Sometimes she missed the sporadic weather patterns of her home state, but she was grateful to be back home.

Sure, visiting her aunt for a much needed change in scenery to finish up the last round edits of her novel was nice, but she found herself missing her boyfriend with each passing day. They still communicated daily, almost hourly even, but distance really did make the heart grow fonder as she found herself counting down the hours she would be in his arms once more within minutes of taking off from New York.

The elevator came to a stop and she thankfully had an easier time maneuvering her luggage, getting to the door of her penthouse rather quickly. Once inside she shrugged off her carry-on and left her bags at the entrance, taking her glasses off to keep them out of harm's way before promptly falling face down on her couch with an exaggerated sigh.

As if on cue her phone went off from her back pocket. She dug it out and lifted her head to see the display, seeing a new message from her boyfriend.

Of course he knew she was already home thanks to the security system he installed in her apartment early on in their relationship. He had wanted to install cameras as well but she was able to convince him not to after a couple hours of back and forth. She knew he meant well and just wanted to make sure she was safe, especially with him and his brothers essentially being New York’s superheroes, so they compromised - he was allowed to install a system that would notify the both of them if an outside door or window was opened. In return she was given more in-depth lessons on self defense (which were almost always cut short due to the two of them getting… distracted). He also taught her how to best use the new upgrades on her stun wand he made for her all those months ago.

She smiled to herself, remembering their last conversation where he rambled about the possibility of adding in yet another upgrade for the extendable staff feature, even if she didn’t understand half of the lingo he used. He could read out the entire encyclopedia to her and she would love every second of it.

Kayla sat up and put on her glasses to read his message as another one from him came through.

💜Pookie💜: Welcome home Darling Dearest! I hope your flight was swell.

💜Pookie💜: I went through the liberty of leaving you a surprise while you were gone. You should see it as soon as you go into your bedroom <3

Her brows raised as she read the words. A surprise?

Curiosity bubbled up inside of her as she stood up to immediately see what Donatello had left for her. There it was, just like he said - a large purple gift bag with black tissue paper sitting right in the middle of her bed.

She sat down on her bed and opened it up with a speed that matched her excitement. Underneath the tissue paper was several pairs of underwear in purples, blacks and grays, and the occasional pink… Oh, that’s a lot… Is that lace? Wait a minute…

Her phone began ringing. She answered the call without looking at the screen, knowing exactly who was calling.

“Did you see your present, love?” Donatello asked before she could speak, the telltale sound of him typing on his keyboard in the background.

She pursed her lips. “I did. Do I want to know why I’m looking at about thirty pairs of new underwear?”

“Twenty-eight actually. Enough for four weeks since I know you put on a new pair every morning and night, and enough to fully replace all your old ones I threw out while-”

“You did what, now?”

Kayla promptly stood up and went over to her walk-in wardrobe, finding her underwear drawer completely empty.

“You heard me. I threw out your old underwear and got you new ones to match my own color scheme, with some in your favorite color of course.” He stated, still typing away.

She blinked once, then twice. “And you did this because…?”

A pause and she could almost feel the eye roll he was doing on the other end. “Simple. I just really like you in purple.”

“Oh? It’s not because you hated seeing me in underwear that matched your brother’s colors?” She questioned with a smirk, knowing she hit the turtle on the shell with that observation. Donatello was too easy to read sometimes.

Another pause, this time the clacking of his keyboard went hand in hand with his silence. “And if it was?”

“So I’m right.” She grinned.

“What are you going to do about it?”

She hummed aloud, walking back into her bedroom. “Well, I was going to suggest modeling them all for you…” Kayla teased.

Donatello’s breath hitched on the other line.

“But you sound kind of busy…” She trailed off.

“I’ll be over in five.”

#tmnt all 4 1 challenge #rise donnie x oc #rise donatello x oc #rise donatello #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt x oc #what better is like

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