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vashsleftnipple · 2 years ago

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This is so cute!!! This song was my jam when I was a kid; always on the radio at the time. Perfect inspiration for a fic too!!

el chico del apartamento 512⋆ ˚｡⋆୨💌୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

summary: that new boy-next-door Vash from 512 sure is cute! Maybe you should write him a letter~

title translation: the boy from apartment 512

warnings/tags: shy/anxious reader, the usual nerve-wrecking feelings that come with a crush, tesla jumpscare, kabedon! by vash, i edited this at 4am might have mistakes, cute~, Modern!AU

A/N: I....don't know if i wrote this right...but this song had me delusional..... :D,,, I really wanted to write a cute boy-next-door kinda oneshot with Vash and boom, here yall go :P enjoy! I recommend listening to Selena's "El Chico Del Apartamento 512" since this fic was a direct inspir. from the song~

pairing: vash x reader

Life in your apartment complex was, in your own words, quite boring.

Bland scenery, the shouts and complains of neighbors and the ridiculous "problems" that shouldn't even be called problems you had to deal with.

Oh cmon, can't you park in your own fucking parking space?!

But there was a certain someone that made the hell of a place a bit more better. Your new neighbor from apartment 512. You first met him by accident when you dropped the groceries you were hauling up to your apartment one day, to which he helped you and struck up conversation.

From there, fate couldn't help but let the meetings between the both of you continue as the two of you talked more and more. Often times, he'd find you reading at one of the various apartment complex picnic tables, joining you in your times of relaxation.

"You okay?" You asked one day as the both of you sat at the table, sharing a bowl of fruits you had cut up to enjoy the afternoon with. He turned his attention towards you, orange sunglasses resting on his head and mouth full of watermelon causing his cheeks to puff out like a chipmunk "Mfph?"

You had a good ol' laugh as the poor man tried to chew as quick as he could to respond, but truly just ended up almost choking on the poor watermelon. You had to smack him on the back in the end so all the juice left his lungs.

Life, work, and flowers that the both of you liked, sometimes the two of you conversated for hours on end. And sometimes, you two just liked each others quiet company.

You admired that.

But you also admired something else.

ooo girl he was cute.

You couldn't resist the butterflies in the pits of your stomach whenever the two of you took your walks together, coming home from work late nights. The closeness of your shoulders and his made you a bit more delusional than you had wanted to be.

Or maybe you did?

GOD MAKE UP YOUR MIND!

Vash, that was his name, was your boy-next-door crush. To be honest, you never expected to find yourself attracted to someone like him. But man, did he have your heart running its laps.

Every.

Single.

Time.

The glances he would sneak at you from afar felt like honey for your little ol' fragile heart. And no, you never forgot those frequent very frequent times where you would find him knocking at your door. Opening it, there he was, the cute tall spiky haired blonde awkwardly standing there with a flower pot, little flowers already growing inside.

Shifting his weight from his feet left to right, he would use the excuse of "I bought a bit too much for my balcony!" to keep giving them to you.

It was adorable! You never failed to blush every time and whenever he accidentally touched your hand when he handed them to you. You didn't notice his own red cheeks though.

You had a small collection of these plants in your home now that you made sure to water every morning. And as a thankful gesture, you often invited him over for dinner at your place.

That was....flirting right?

Jesus fucking christ you really had no rizz..

You often found yourself lying in bed some nights, not knowing how to address those bubbly feelings of yours towards the dorky man.

How would you tell him either way? How about a date?

Oh no no no, you didn't have the balls to tell it to his face... Did you?

You contemplated for a second.

Nope, definitely not.

If he said no, you would have to think about finding a different apartment at this point.

oh my goddd this was embarrassing..

But cmon now that cute mole on his face? How could you resist those funny faces of his? You groaned loudly into the air as you slapped your hands on your eyes in exasperation.

'What if I write him a letter?' You froze in your mini moment of despair before shooting up from your laid down position. "Okay, okay, maybe this can work." You gasped out, stumbling and slipping off your bed, looking around the room trying to find a pen and paper.

Pen..Pen..Digging out a pen from your bag, you held it up into the air as if it were a holy grail.

Settling with a nice purple colored one and a page from a notebook that you carefully tore out, you wrote your "confession" letter on that messy wooden desk of yours.

That'll do that job! please

By the next morning, you had the letter sealed and ready to be given to him, but damn were you on the verge of wanting to throw up because of how nervous you were.

You even added a cute dried flower on the letter to make it look pretty maybe he could ignore the little tear marks of yours on the note

Okay, go to his door, knock, give him the letter, then run.

PERFECT! Completely foul proof plan!

Wash, rinse, repeat.

You put on one of the more nicer outfits from your closet, and paced around your room a bit before finally leaving the apartment. Letter clenched in your hands, you walked only a few steps from your door until you saw the numbers 512 glaring down at you.

Ummm…

You felt sweatier than usual as you frantically brushed down your hair before straightening your posture. It took you only 2 minutes of self-reassurance before you knocked.

knock, knock, knock

Pulling your hand back, you stood there holding the letter into your chest.

...

No response. That's fine! That's totally okay!

You took a moment to breathe in and out before knocking again. Finally hearing movement from the other side of the door, you took a step back, bracing yourself from seeing his face as the door swung open.

"How can I help you?" A feminine voice rung out.

Opening the door was a blonde girl somewhat a bit older than you. Her long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes making you do a double take as your mouth gaped open at the pretty girl. But that surprise was taken over by your heart dropping at the sight. She was wearing a white sweat jacket

His jacket..

HE HAD A GIRLFRIEND!?

'ABORT! ABORT MISSION!' Your subconscious yelled at you as you stumbled to find words to reply to the girl "I-um, well uh-"

The burning feeling in your chest started to hurt as you felt the desire to just drop dead right on the spot. There was no way you just... Oh my god..

Before you could respond, the girl's expression widened into somewhat recognition. "Oh! You're the neighbor from next door! Were you looking for my brother?"

Eh?

"...Y-Yes?" You tilted your head in a somewhat cheeky sweaty smile you were dying on the inside before she turned from you and looked back into the apartment.

"HEY VASH!" She yelled, holding the door open with her back as she crossed her arms, and from the depths of the blue-wallpapered apartment nice choice! you heard his voice.

"WHAT!?" There were sounds of blankets or something moving coming from where he was inside.

Her eyes flickered back to you before giving you a playful wink "I think our neighbor from 511 is knocking at the door! Are they the-!"

"WAIT WAIT WAIT DON'T OPEN IT WAIT!!" His sudden screech emitted before the sudden mess of things falling to the ground and objects breaking echoed through the apartment.

Was he okay?

"GYAH!" You heard Vash yelp before he tripped into your sight right around a corner, shirt half messily on him as he attempted to slip his arm through the hole of the shirt. The scattered scars on his body prominent to your eyes as he struggled for a second.

Wow look at that bod-

You quickly averted your sight, feeling the heat crawling up your neck and into your cheeks as he picked himself off the ground as fast as he could with only one hand. You noted that he didn't have the time to put his prosthetic on in that sudden rush of his.

"T-thanks Tesla!" He breathed out, smoothing down his shirt as Tesla left her spot by the door, leaving it ajar as she gave you a small wave before leaving into the apartment and what you presumed back into her bedroom.

"Sorry about my older sister, she's just visiting for the week..." Vash cleared his throat before leaning his arm his only arm at the moment on the door frame, humorously deepening his voice "So, how can I help a beautiful person on this most wonderous night?"

You giggled at his try to hide whatever happened, the tense muscles in your shoulders softening as you silently held out the letter you had.

"Hm?" His eyebrow rose as he relaxed himself, slowly grabbing the red envelope out of your hand. Turning it around, he scanned the writing on the top.

To Vash

And attached to it, was a red geranium, one of the flowers he had gifted you. He couldn't help but give the envelope a blushed smile before looking back up to ask you what it was.

But there was no one?

"E-Eh?" He stuttered as he quickly stepped outside, only seeing a flash of your body running through your door as you shut it quick behind you.

Did... Did you just run back to your apartment?

Vash let out a pout as his shoulders slouched down, barefoot on the concrete floor of the apartment complex corridor.

"I missed the chance to say it.. Damn it.."

Meanwhile, you had shut the door and slowly slid down it, covering your mouth with your hand in amazement.

YOU DID IT!

YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! YES!

OH FUCK YOU DID IT.

ohhhh shit.

"what did I just do.." You groaned, pushing your knees up to bury your face into.

For the next couple of days, you tried your best to avoid Vash as much as you could. Taking all the early shifts at work, racing into your apartment whenever you saw him sitting at the picnic table with a bowl of strawberries.

Maybe he didn't feel the same way, how could you show your face to him? You were scared..What he would say?

Disgusting?

I'm interested in someone else?

That night was one that had you up late, running through all the things he could say about your letter, bad or good.

But one day. you had been forced to take the late night shift again and found yourself walking down one of the many apartment complex hallways alone. You actually kinda missed your lil nightly talks with him…

"Hey!"

Hm?

Turning your head to the left, you spotted the pretty blonde man, racing down the path in slippers, sweatpants and a long sleeve, no glasses of his in sight.

"V-VASH!?" You squawked out, the man closing in as in a panic, you closed your eyes. Feeling your back hit the hard wall behind you, you were only able to throw a hand out to put a cushion to whatever was happening.

What?

Slowly peeping your eyes open, your vision was covered by the sight of his chest. His large frame practically covering your body and both arms of his caging the sides of your head, most likely to prevent you from meekly escaping.

"I finally.." He let out a deep breath as the hot sensation of it lightly hit your face "..caught you." His gaze only focused on you as you noticed the grip you had on his firm shoulder. Ah... He was trying to talk to you again..

Did the letter not make anything awkward?

"Vash?" Your breath hitched, the intense stare of his eyes just on you making that stomach of yours develop butterflies once again.

"You never gave me the chance to give you an answer.." He muttered before chuckling "Didn't think it'd take me this long to finally see you."

Moving your gaze away and to the side, you tried to escape his eyes in attempt to calm yourself down "I thought I made things awkward...Ha." You gave him a small pained grin, the urge to cry out of humiliation was making the lump in your throat push upwards.

One more word out of you and you'll accidentally let it out, tears and all.

Vash looked down at you with a curious expression before the look of adoration riddled his face "Aw cmon now, look at me. You'll never make things awkward between the both of us..." Hand off the wall, he softly put two fingers under your chin, moving it so you looked back into those endless bright blue eyes of his.

"Ya know, you actually beat me to it first."

"I-I did?"

He gave you a cheeky smile "Definitely, I was gonna come over but.." The corners of his mouth moved downwards "I didn't get to see you anymore. Even after work, I made sure to wait a bit to spot ya. Guess today's my lucky day."

oh fuck, you felt so bad.

he…was actually looking for you.

shit.

"I-" You choked out, silencing Vash as you felt your eyes start to blur with the tears. You couldn't hold it in anymore. All those embarrassing moments and thoughts.

"I was scared about what you were gonna say... I thought you weren't going to like me anymore after that letter…” You tried to regulate your breathing as your furiously wiped the tears out of your eyes “Stupid right?”

Using both hands, Vash slowly took your hands away from your face, before swiping his thumb against the apples of your cheeks "Well, whatever you thought that was gonna do, did quite the opposite.."

Face to face, just centimeters away from each other.

"I like you even more.." His thumb brushing the bottom of your lips as you observed him, eyes still red from crying. But the red of Vash’s own cheeks got brighter and brighter.

"May I?"

And with no words spoken, you nodded and he caved, leaning in. You felt like melting as he wrapped his arms around your sides, those pink lips of his deeping into your own as the taste of mint seeped into your mouth.

The sweet taste of his was one you imagined at night, and have never thought to ever taste until now.

Now that you tasted him, it felt so intoxicating. Every touch of his tongue in your mouth, the grip he had on your waist.

Okay slow it down a little cowboy~

Pulling away for air, the both of you just stared at each-other, eyes wide and quiet.

Until laughter came about, Vash had started giggling and you tried your best to stifle your own until you couldn’t. And the two of you continued laughing as Vash kept you close in his embrace.

"I was wonderingg~" Vash whistled out after getting those cute giggles out of his system "Are you doing anything this Saturday?"

You tilted your head to the right, giving him a shy smile "Not necessarily, I was just gonna order some pizza and stay home alone.."

"Maybee..I can keep you company?" He jokingly puppy-eyed before you gave him peck on the lips just one more time

"Always~"

A sharp gasp was suddenly emitted from your right side, causing you to almost yelp in shock at the sudden disturbance as Vash whipped his head to the direction. And there stood your upstairs neighbor, an elderly hispanic lady and her husband with a little cart full of folded laundry.

"Mire! El chico del apartmento 512 se junto con el rentero de 511. Ay que bonito~" She cooed as her husband nodded in agreement.

You returned a blushed smile, feeling Vash's hand slip into your own.

Oh how sweet!

translation: Look! The boy from apartment 512 got together with the renter from 511. How pretty~

#vash x reader #vash x you #trigun fanfiction #vash stampede #trigun #el chico del apartamento 512

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freelancearsonist · 10 months ago

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el chico del apartamento 512

➔ Frankie Morales x gn!Reader - 1.6k

➔ There's a rumor going around your building about the resident of apartment 512, and you're eager to investigate.

➔ Rated PG-13 for allusions to sex but otherwise just some plain old fluff and fun. post movie canon wife and kid erasure sorry, takes place in colombia, both reader and frankie speak spanish and everything is translated.

➔ this is my entry for the Selena Drabble Challenge hosted by mi esposa @fhatbhabie <3 sorry i've been sitting on this forever hehe but i hope you enjoy

Frankie barely manages to pull himself out of the slump he’s in for the first year or so after the absolute disaster in the Andes.

He misses his family, misses his friends, misses his crew–his brothers. He tries to convince himself that it’s for the best, that it’s only a matter of time before those assholes who were in cahoots with Lorea come after him–that the people he loves will be safer and happier if he’s not around them when it happens. And most of the time he can block all that sadness and pain out by throwing his whole mind and body into the earnest construction job he picks up in this new town within this new country. But it catches up to him late at night in dreams and quiet whispers of intrusive thoughts; that he’s a coward for abandoning the ones that needed him most, that he could’ve done more to make that damned mission less of a disaster. That he could’ve come out of it rich and happy if he wasn’t such a fuck-up.

He wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, an ache so deep in his chest that it feels like he’s been shot. He clutches at his sternum and tries to catch his breath but he can’t. His body wracks with sobs and he knows he’ll never be okay again.

But somehow, he ends up okay anyway. Somehow, he falls back to sleep just to repeat the cycle the next day.

There’s a rumor going around amongst your neighbors that apartment 512 is haunted.

People hear things–weird things. Screaming, crying, banging–and always at the dead of night. And everyone swears up and down that they’ve never seen the guy who supposedly lives there. The people who say they have seen him get more dramatic with their descriptions every time–toweringly tall, shoulders that could stand up to a wrecking ball, hauntingly sad eyes and gaunt face. It’s like he’s a thing of legend–a story they tell their kids to make sure they behave. “Don’t run in the halls or the guy from apartment 512 will get you.”

You figure he’s probably just some guy who works long hours and likes to watch horror movies to unwind or something–not a monster or a ghost, just misunderstood. You haven’t seen the guy yourself, but you kinda like him anyway. The building’s certainly been a lot quieter since he moved in… well, everywhere except his own apartment, at least.

You find yourself keeping a more vigilant eye out, alert to any face in the building that doesn’t look familiar. It seems kinda silly to want to see someone you don’t know, but you’re a little nosy and a little more than curious. If there’s some truth to the rumors that have been going around by the people who claim to have seen him, you want to find out for yourself.

It’s a completely ordinary night when you notice an unfamiliar face in the mailroom, and you have to do a double take. This stranger is handsome–tall and dark with shaggy brown hair and an even shaggier patch of stubble across his jaw.

He’s just standing there, staring blankly at a row of mailboxes, looking so… foreboding. You approach slowly, cautiously; part of you thinks you should just walk away and let this man do whatever he’s doing. But there’s a large, louder part of you that approaches with curiosity. There’s just something about him that draws you in, that makes you put on your best smile and ask, “Señor? Necesitas ayuda?” (Do you need help, sir?)

He blinks slowly, heavily, and then dark brown eyes flicker towards you.

“Oh!” He clears his throat and it’s like he’s coming back from an out of body experience–the color returns to his face, his eyes lose that glassy sheen, and his posture loosens a bit. He looks friendly now, sheepish even. He wrings his big hands and shifts on his feet, as if he’s been caught at a vulnerable moment. “Lo siento, estaba en la nube.” (Sorry, I was spacing out.)

“Está bien,” you tell him with your most disarming smile. “Andas buscando algo?” (It’s okay. / Are you looking for something?)

“No, solo estoy recopilando mi correo,” he rumbles before flashing you the most charming smile you’ve ever seen in your life. (No, I’m just getting my mail.)

He fishes through his pockets and finds a small silver key–and then he inserts it into the box labeled “512”.

“Tú vives en el apartamento 512?” There’s a strange air of reverence in your voice despite trying to hide it. This is the guy everyone’s been talking about, and he doesn’t seem nearly as monstrous as everyone tried to make him sound. (You live in apartment 512?)

“Uhhh… sí?” He chuckles and looks over to you, and you can see the way his brow furrows at the look of shocked surprise on your face.

You realize you’re actually gaping open-mouthed at the poor guy, and you snap your mouth closed as soon as you see the little crease between his brows deepen. Not soon enough for it to go unnoticed, though–the corner of his mouth flickers up in a pseudo-smirk, and god he’s handsome.

“No hemos tenido la oportunidad de conocernos aún.” You look up at him and give your best, winning smile as you give him your name. There’s a strange, fluttery feeling in your stomach as his dark eyes meet yours–have you mentioned how handsome he is? (We haven’t had the chance to meet yet.)

“Mucho gusto,” he says with a smile. “Soy Frankie. Supongo que vives en el edificio también?” (Nice to meet you. / I’m Frankie. I’m guessing you live in the building too?)

“Oh, sí,” you say with a slight laugh. “No soy ningún tipo de acosador, vivo en el apartamento 526.” (Oh, yes. / I promise I’m not some kind of creep, I live in apartment 526.)

And then you catch his eyes dragging along your form, not even the least bit subtle, and you try your best to be nonchalant about the way you have to lean against the wall to avoid melting into a puddle on the mailroom floor; especially when you see those full lips of his curve into a smile, and you know he’s liking what he’s seeing.

“Nah, no creo que seas un acosador,” he hums–and there’s that damned smirk again. If you don’t get out of here you’re going to start drooling. (I don’t think you’re a creep.)

He grabs two letters from his mailbox, examines the envelopes, and then unceremoniously dumps them both into the trashcan in the corner with a mumbled, “Malditas estafas por correo.” (Damn junk mail.)

“Eso es lo único que recibo ahora también,” you tell him sympathetically. (That’s all I get anymore too.)

He brushes past you slightly as he moves to the door, and you get a whiff of distinctly woody cologne that makes your heart pick up a beat. You try to act normal and go to open your own mailbox, but he stops in the narrow doorway and leans against the jam to look at you.

“Te volveremos a ver aquí?” (Will I see you around again?)

You think the rumors about him were right, at least a little bit. He’s towering and imposing–he fills the entire doorway with ease. He’s firm and broad and sturdy and big. Maybe he would be intimidating to someone else, but all you can think about is climbing him like a tree.

“Sí. Puedes verme cuando tú quieras.” (You can see me whenever you want to.)

His eyes flicker indecisively for a moment, and then he draws his bottom lip between his teeth. “Qué tal viernes por la noche?” (What about Friday night?)

You try not to focus on how you want him to bite into you like that as you tell him, “Sí, eso sería perfecto.” (Yes, that would be perfect.)

“Perfecto. Te veré luego.” And then he flashes you that damned adorable boyish smile again before he retreats from the mailroom. You think he’s going to be trouble for you. (Perfect. I’ll see you then.)

The monthly building meeting is Saturday morning, and you’re glad to see Frankie’s decided to join in finally. Everyone throws curious looks his way as he walks through the room towards where you’re seated, but no one is curious or brave enough to ask who he is.

“Buenos días, querida,” he murmurs, discreetly ghosting a kiss against your cheek as he drops into the seat beside yours. There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes as they trail over your outfit: the same one you wore to dinner last night, the same one you picked up off his bedroom floor this morning and shoved on hastily to get to this meeting in time. (Good morning, dear.)

Before you get a chance to respond, your neighbor from across the hall plunks down in the seat on your other side.

“Escuchaste ese ruido anoche?” She asks, sounding more amused than annoyed. (Did you hear that noise last night?)

“Qué ruido?” You ask with a raised brow. (What noise?)

She smirks with satisfaction, like she knows something you don’t. And then she looks pointedly between you and Frankie. “Suena como si nuestro fantasma en el apartamento 512 hubiera conseguido un socio para él.” (It sounds like our ghost in apartment 512 got himself a partner.)

You nearly choke on your own tongue, but Frankie just chuckles raspily and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He learned all about the rumors from you last night over dinner, and he thinks they’re hilarious. Besides, they’ll die out soon enough anyway–he’s never slept quite as peacefully as he did last night in your arms–if he doesn’t feed them a little bit. And if feeding the rumors means keeping you moaning and groaning the way he did last night, he can’t say he minds it one bit.

➔ beta: @shakespeareanwannabe; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales one shot #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #cece writes

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