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woso-dreamzzz · 7 months

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Injured V

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: The next day

The day that Alba takes you is the worst day of Alexia's life which says a lot.

For a long time, the worst day of her life was tearing her ACL, the time before that was when her father died but even those moments have been taken over by Alba taking you away from her.

Alexia slept outside your bedroom door that night, adamant that you would open it when you thought everyone was in bed. She didn't have much of a plan after that apart from grabbing you before you noticed her and not letting you go ever again.

But you don't open your door until Alba arrives early the next day.

You shrug off Alexia when she tries to reach for you, whining and crying until Alba picks you up. You're still in yesterday's clothes and no matter how much Alexia begs, you don't even acknowledge that she's speaking to you.

Alba doesn't talk to her either and both sisters are caught in a standoff that forces Olga to pack your bag.

No word is spoken by either you or Alba even as Alexia rants and raves and begs until the front door swings shut behind you.

That's when she really breaks down, crumbling to the floor as she sobs.

Your bedroom door is left open and Alexia can peer inside, clearly seeing where you've destroyed things last night.

Your trains are knocked over. Your ballet pumps are strewn around the room. Your bedsheets and pillows are bundled up in your wardrobe like you slept in there last night rather than your bed.

There was a picture of you and Alexia that lived on your bedside table. You're a newborn in it, lying on Alexia's chest. The labour had been gruelling - thirteen long hours - and Alexia's face is all red. You're red too but completely content. The picture's lived there for as long as Alexia can remember until now.

It lies on the floor, the frame completely broken and unsalvageable. The picture is ruined too, a big rip right down the middle until one half features just Alexia and the other half features you.

"Ale," Olga says softly," I'm...I'm going to call you in sick, okay?"

Alexia shakes her head, wiping away her tears. "No," She insists," I'm going in to train."

"Ale-"

"No."

The radio doesn't get turned on when Alexia drives to her recovery session. She drives in silence, stewing about it all as she pulls into the car park.

It's clear to everyone that she's in a mood which is a little strange seeing as they won the Copa De La Reina last night. No one seems to want to approach.

No one except Mapi, despite Ingrid's hushed warnings.

"So, which one did she choose?"

The words shock Alexia, who nearly drops her shirt. "What?"

Mapi frowns. "Did you not let her choose this time? That's so mean, Ale. Did she at least like the one you got her?"

"Mapi, what are you talking about?"

Mapi rolls her eyes. "The train? You always let y/n choose a new train when we win a trophy. Which one was it this time? Last time I saw her she talked about wanting this fancy red one that you could take the top off to put little people in the cars. Was it stupidly expensive? Is that why you didn't let her choose?"

Alexia clenches her fist at the reminder. She can't think of the last time she bought you a new train. She used to buy one every week. Its all you ever ask for but she can't remember the last one she gave you.

Was it the green one at Christmas or the black one at new years?

No, it can't have been then because she got you a big train set before Jaume was born, wrapped up and placed in the cupboard to give to you the day of Jaume's birth.

But...

Alexia can't remember seeing it in your room this morning.

When recovery is over, she nearly tears the cupboard door off its hinges.

The present is still there, a thick layer of dust covering the pristine packaging and Alexia sobs all over again.

She's in her car before she knows and is banging on Alba's door before she can stop herself.

"Go away!" Her sister snarls.

"Let me in!"

"No! Go away!"

"I want to see her!"

"Fuck off, Alexia! And get lost! You're not coming anywhere near that little girl!"

"She's my daughter! You've kidnapped her! Move!"

Alba looks ready to throw hands again but so is Alexia. She knows that she's got a long way to go but she's got the present from Jaume's birth in the backseat and the train you told Mapi you wanted.

"Kidnapped," Alba scoffs," That's rich. You've been neglecting her! You're lucky I didn't call the police on you!"

"Watch it," Alexia snaps," This is what you wanted, wasn't it? For me to take notice? Job done! I've noticed! Give me Bambi!"

"Over my-"

Alba breaks off as the pitter-patter of little feet sound behind her. She turns, blocking Alexia from your view as you come running towards her.

"Tia! Tia!"

"Hey, bambi. What have you got there?"

"Me and you! I painted it!"

Alba smiles, gently cupping your cheeks as she presses a soft kiss to your forehead. She keeps her body between you and Alexia, desperate to make sure you don't notice.

"It's so beautiful. Why don't you go and put away your paints and then we can put it up on the fridge?"

"Okay."

You run off again and Alba goes to shut the door.

Alexia wedges her foot between it and the frame.

"I'm not leaving," She insists," Not without Bambi."

"Go back to your precious son," Alba hisses," You're not going anywhere near her."

Alexia doesn't exactly have a plan. All she wants is to grab you and take you home. She'll give you your new trains and not let you out of her sight for the rest of your life.

"Alexia Putellas Segura!"

She turns slowly to see her mother walking up the driveway, a face like thunder.

"Mama-"

"No!"

She falls silent.

"Go."

"Alba-"

"Alexia, I will not ask again. Go home to Olga and Jaume. Your presence will do Bambi no good."

Tears water in her eyes. "Mama, I'm trying. I will be better, I promise. Please."

"Alexia." Her mother's voice softens ever so slightly but it's clear she's not going to budge. "This will not be good for Bambi. Go home, reflect and we will sort out a day where you can see her again."

"I want to see her now." Her voice cracks. "Please, Mama, she's only little."

"Go home, Alexia," Eli says," Hold your son but go home and do not come back until you are invited. This is hard on you, yes, but it is much harder on your daughter. Something like this does not happen overnight."

"Mama, I will do anything. Just, please, I need to see her."

"I have already made my decision. You will not be seeing Bambi until I have been told what has happened from her mouth. You will go home and think about your actions. If I don't think your presence will help then you will not see her."

"She's a baby, Mama," Alexia sobs with no shame," I..."

"I know," Eli says," I know, Alexia but we need to start doing what is right for her, not just what is right for you. So, go home while I talk to Bambi and we will see where this goes."

Alexia sniffles and wipes her tears. "I...I have trains for her, in my car..."

"I'll give them to her."

You're sitting in front of a train set when Eli walks in.

She didn't really want to believe it when Alba called this morning, telling her that Alexia had been neglecting you. She hadn't wanted to believe it when Alba said that she had taken you away but seeing Alexia a few minutes ago had made this all clear.

"Do you have room for more trains?"

You look up. "Abuela!"

"Hola, Bambi." She sits down next to you. "I've missed you."

The look on your face is heartbreaking. You look so excited, like you can't quite believe that someone has missed you.

"Really?"

"Of course. I always miss my favourite little girl."

Your face clouds with something that Eli can't quite work out and you say softly," Mami used to call me that."

Eli's heart cracks completely at your words and she has to resist the urge to cry herself. "I hear that you are staying with your tia for a few days."

Alba hovers uncertainly nearby, shifting on her feet even though her eyes are still glued to the windows looking out on the driveway. Eli doesn't have to look to know that Alexia hasn't driven away yet.

She knows that she won't be coming in but leaving and driving back home makes it certain. Eli isn't sure that Alexia wants to admit that just yet.

You nod, looking back down at your trains. The set-up isn't as elaborate as the one you have at home but it's still quite big. You make little chugging noises with your mouth before speaking," Tia Alba says we can go to the beach tomorrow and that I don't have to go to nursery!" Your face goes cloudy again. and you mood drops "I got forgot at nursery yesterday."

Eli hums. "And how did that make you feel?"

Your bottom lip wobbles and Eli doesn't want to push but she needs to know so she can fix this. She wants this to be salvageable. She doesn't want to give Alexia hope that this can be fixed if it can't be. She doesn't want to force you to reconcile if it'll cause more harm than good.

"Mami loves Jaume," You say, face scrunching up," And Miss Olga. They're her family."

Tears spill down your cheeks.

"Your Mami loves you too," Eli promises, feeling her chest go tight," Even if she forgets."

"No, she doesn't," You shake your head," I..." You like around wildly like you're scared. "I...I love Mami but she doesn't love me."

"She does," Eli insists," You are so loved, Bambi. Your Mami is having a bit of a stumble but she does love you."

It's clear that you don't believe her.

"Mami wanted Jaume. She didn't want me."

Eli chokes out a breath. "Who told you that?! Bambi, who said that to you?!"

Your conception was always a difficult subject to breach. Alexia had gotten drunk, slept with someone and woke up with no memory of the experience. She ended up pregnant though, with you.

It wasn't something that they ever told you. All you had ever been told was that you were loved. No one ever wanted to label you as a mistake or unwanted.

It was one of Alexia's deepest shames. She'd always told you that she chose your daddy, that she spent hours and hours choosing the perfect one. She had never wanted to tell you that you were an accident no matter how many times Eli had told her you would find out one day.

To you, you were chosen. Alexia chose to have you, to make you a part of her life. To you, you and Jaume have the same daddy because Alexia chose yours.

Eli should have known this would come out eventually, no matter what Alexia had told her.

More tears flow down your cheeks.

"Was an accident," You sniffle," Didn't mean to listen in. Was meant to be sleeping. Mami was talking to her friends-"

"What did Alexia say, bambi?" Alba's voice is harsh and Eli could never imagine this is what her family would come to.

Two sisters on warring sides and one little girl used as the rope in this tug of war.

"Said that Jaume was planned. Does that mean I wasn't? That I wasn't wanted like him?"

"I'm going to kill her," Alba declares. If she squints, she can just make out Alexia sobbing into her steering wheel. "I'm going to kill her."

"Alba," Eli says," Calm down. Go and make some snacks but do not attack your sister."

"Abuela? Does that mean Mami didn't want me?"

Eli doesn't want to have this conversation. She's never wanted to have this conversation, to have you question your position in this family. She wants to tell you that just because you weren't planned doesn't mean that you weren't wanted. She wants to tell you that you were so wanted by everyone in this room the moment they found out about you.

But, somehow, she doesn't think that will help.

What you want is assurance from Alexia but Eli doesn't trust her eldest daughter with you right now.

It's a horrible thing to admit but it's so easy to see that Alexia adores Jaume. It has always been a little harder to see Alexia's love for you.

Eli doesn't trust Alexia with you in the slightest and she hates that. She hates how splintered her family has become. She can hear Alba pacing in the kitchen and she can make out Alexia still in the driveway, sobbing.

"Your Mami..." She sighs. "I wanted you and your Tia Alba wanted you. You are so loved and so wanted by everyone in the family, Bambi. Do you trust me?"

You nod.

"I'm going to be staying with you and your Tia for a few days and I'm going to make everything better."

"Is Mami and Miss Olga and baby Jaume coming over?"

"Do you want them to?"

"No."

"Then they won't. Your Mami did give me something to give to you, though. They're presents from her."

"Why?"

Eli doesn't want to think about this. She doesn't want to think about why you're even questioning Alexia giving you presents. Every weekend at the end of Alexia's matches, she used to take you to the model train store near your house.

Eli used to be forced to go too and Alexia would let you pick out a new train simply as a present, a gift for being her favourite girl in the entire world.

You were singlehandedly keeping that store in business and the old man that ran it even kept it open late if the match ran over. It used to be your favourite time of the week.

If you're asking her why you're getting presents all of a sudden, Eli doesn't want to think about how long it's been since you must have set foot in that store.

Her voice cracks. "Because you're her favourite girl in the entire world."

She pushes them both towards you.

One of them is covered in wrapping paper so Eli can't tell what it is but she recognises the second one.

It's a red train that you'd been eyeing up since the last time Eli went to the train store with you and your Mami almost a whole year ago. It's big and comes with its own train track and little people.

It's based on those fancy trains that serve afternoon tea and cakes because each of the train cars can have their roofs taken off to place the little people figures inside to enjoy their lunches.

It's stupidly expensive, seven-hundred euros and Eli remembers you telling her that Alexia had promised it to you for your birthday. But your birthday came and went a month ago so to see it now means you didn't get it then.

You don't reach out to tear off the wrapping paper of the first present but you do tentatively touch the front of the box of the train you've been begging for.

More tears then Eli thought possible drops down your cheeks.

"I don't want it," You say eventually," I don't want them, Abuela. I don't!"

"Okay, okay," Eli hushes you softly," I'll take them away, Bambi."

You climb into her lap and sob and Eli wants nothing more than to heal all your pain and stop this but even that sounds too difficult to do. She'd hoped that this was all some big understanding but it's clear that this runs deep, that this isn't something that can be fixed quite so easily.

It's clear that Alba has made the right choice though, to take you away from Alexia and the mess of your home.

Eli had been worried when Alexia had named her as your godmother but it was clearly the right decision. She doesn't want to think about what could have happened if you had been left there any longer.

"Abuela?" You say and the next words out of your mouth are the worst things Eli has ever heard," Do you think Mami would be happier if she didn't have me?"

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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rapunzelbro · 1 month

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The Act of Stealing a Loved One |1| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

This is a beginning of a prompt I wrote. Please don't expect chapters quickly. Enjoy!

Story guide

Being the wife of a man who went missing was hard. Many told you it was time to move on, many told you he was dead, and hell maybe you should just move on. But if they knew what happened that night, what actually happened to the man you loved, they would know why you couldn't exactly give up hope. You told him to shut it down, to stop what he was doing, hell Stan even did, but none of that would matter.

When he got trapped in the portal, it was the day you shut yourself out from everyone, you moved back to the small town home you two had bought before moving to Gravity Falls, you couldn’t take living in the house he went missing in. Stan kept living in his brothers’ home, turning it into some ‘Mystery Shack’ tourist attraction after a few weeks, which you wanted no part of. And after that, it was just radio silence. You didn’t hear anything from Stanley, nothing about your husband, it was just silence.

10 years went by. You still had hope that he was going to walk in that door and embrace you, telling you about the crazy things he saw while he was away, promising to never leave your side. It was now August 1992. He was smart, he knew about this sort of thing, so he was going to be back in your small home in New Jersey any minute now. That was going to happen… Right?

Another 10 years went by. You were grasping at straws trying to keep the memories you had with him in your mind. It was February 2002. The ring on your finger was a reminder of the love you two had, your hope was beginning to slip away. You stared down at your phone. Some weird new portable phone you finally decided on getting after debating. You should call Stan…

You never ended up calling him.

10 years later you had a car packed, a for sale sign was up in your town home you once lived in. It was now June 2012. Your wedding ring was no longer on your finger, you put it back in its box years ago. He wasn’t coming back, it's been 29 years. You were headed back to Gravity Falls, Oregon. To say you were nervous would be an understatement, you didn't know what to think. How would Stan react?

Shit. Stan. You had to call him.

After starting your car, you scroll through your contacts before landing on your brother-in-law, Stan Pines. The contact photo was an old photo of him from your wedding, he was being chased around by some smaller kids who were there tormenting him, thinking it was hilarious, you obviously had the photographer take a photo of it. Looking back on it gave you hope that he was willing to forgive your absence. You dialed his number before you started driving, praying he hasn’t changed it after all these years.

It was on its final ring before someone finally answered “.. kids don't do anything stupid! Ugh…Hello?” he sounded the same as you remember, almost identical to your Stanford. “Hello? If this is some telemarketer im not interested” he said again, you realized you did say anything “Hi! Uh Hi sorry. Stan.. Is that really you?” you heard him spit his water out before coughing, then clearing his throat “Y/n.. it’s you. Um, geez sorry not good at this, why are you calling me? It's been 29 years..” He sounded off put by you calling him. “I’m heading back to Gravity Falls Stan, I was hoping I could see you? Unless you don't want to then-” “Quit rambling.. You're sure you want to see me after all these years? I did uh, take over your old home” Stan muttered into the phone “That wasn’t my home Stan, and yes I'm sure. I'm driving so it'll be a couple days until I arrive. I have a place already so don't worry” You sigh slightly

“Grunkle Stan who are you talking to! Is it a girl?” you can hear a younger girl on the other side of the line, you must be on speaker. “Who’s that?” you ponder “It's no one” Stan quickly replies, hearing the girl gasp “Y/n Pines?! Grunkle Stan! You’re married?! DIPPER YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO BELIEVE THIS” She had to have seen the caller ID. Guess he just added you as a contact “Mabel you get back here! Shit, Y/n I gotta go, I’ll get it sorted out. I can’t wait to see you” Stan grumbles before hanging up. You slightly smile at the interaction.

You marrying Stanley? Hard pass.

Taglist: @cherryblom @leo4242564

#gravity falls x reader #stanford x reader #stanford pines x reader #stan x reader #stanley pines #stanley x reader

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probably-ren · 2 months

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"You think you know me by the screen."

Schlatt x male reader

Summary: you were invited to his love or host and stupidly, you hosted him. You didn't expect to win, to be fair. Now, hes invited you to come collab with him in new york... For content purposes only.

I think im gonna turn this into a multiple part series because i dont have the attention span to do everything in one go😭

(New layout, what do we think?)

You sigh as you search around the airport for the man you had come to see, at the baggage claim you felt your phone get a notification and saw a dm from him that just said "turn around" you do as it says and are greeted the 6'3 man you had been talking to. a New York Yankees hat sitting firmly on his head, his mutton chops freshly groomed.

How did you get here? You decided to join a random streamers love or host because austin invited you. After watching a small part of his videos, you decided to host him. You found him annoying and much too blunt for your taste. But, during the actual love or host, you began to warm up to him. And when you won, you guys called afterwards and he offered to fly you out to New York to film some vlogs with him.

he smiles and hugs you "how are you man? Was the flight alright?"

You nod and hug him back. "Yeah, it was great! You know first class wasn't necessary right?" he had bought you first class with all upgrades he could, claiming it was just because planes are uncomfortable as fuck, which wasn't a total lie.

"To me it was, so deal with it" he grunts and takes your suitcase before you had the chance to. "lets get back to my car, you must be tired."

You chuckle "you're right about that, there was a loud as fuck baby crying the whole flight and i couldn't sleep at all" you roll your eyes and huff, following him to his car.

"Bet everyone on the plane got some free reminders to use condoms." he snickers, opening the trunk to his car and putting your suitcases in the back, you had packed a decent amount, which was fair since you were staying a whole week.

You laugh "damn right we did." you snicker, climbing into the passenger seat. You hum tiredly as you lean back, watching the other man sit in the driver's seat and turn on the car, the gentle roar of the engine filling the silence between you two.

"do you need the address to my hotel?" you question.

"Hotel?" he asks "just stay with me" he huffs and doesn't look at you "New York hotels are shitty and expensive." he grumbles.

"You sure?" you question, looking at the reservation you were about to book, your thumb inches away from pressing 'pay'

"Very. don't book the damn hotel, I've got plenty of space." he grunts bluntly.

you sigh and nod, exiting out of the app and turning off your phone. Leaning back in the seat. You could smell a gentle vanilla cologne and air fresheners filling the car. schlatts gentle humming to the soft music along with the soft roar of the car couldve put you to sleep then and there. you glance over at him and see him calmly driving as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

in order to keep yourself awake, you decide to ask a question. "what kind of stuff are you thinking we film?"

schlatt glances at you, raising an eyebrow. "im not sure yet. im sure we could just explore the city, theres this really nice cafe not too far from my place we could check out tomorrow. its too late for them to be open right now." he offers, getting slightly embarrassed and looking away "if you want to, of course."

you nod softly "no, im down. that sounds fun" you smile, leaning back in your seat and watching as the city rolled by. the setting sun made the buildings glimmer and pricks of light dance on the glass as you drove past. it felt almost like a moment in a movie - or maybe that was the tiredness catching up to you.

slowly the ride turns into a calm silence, schlatt humming along to whatever song played on the radio. you had expected him to be more like his online persona, but from what you had seen so far, it was quite the opposite.

Soon, you both pull up to his apartment. He turns to look at you and snickers as he sees you fast asleep. He quietly turns off the car and gets out, going over to your side and opening the door, easily scooping you up bridal style and gently carrying you inside.

He walks towards the guest room and sighs as he remembers how trashed it is. "Oh well" he murmurs "he can have my room, i guess." he grunts "not because i care or anything, just because its closest." he reminds himself, walking towards his room quietly, his footsteps echoing on the wood flooring, jambo happily trailing behind him, practically begging for attention.

He enters his room and takes you to his bed, gently setting you down and chuckling as jambo immediately jumps up and lays right beside you, purring happily. [Redacted] was already asleep on his bed and woke up at the movement, hissing at your sleeping body.

"Be nice." he warns the black cat sternly as he takes off his Yankees hat and sets it on the nightstand, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over you, covering jambo in the process and causing him to crawl up and lay right beside your face. "Hope hes not allergic" schlatt snickers and yawns "ill get his bags tomorrow, im tired as fuck" he groans quietly and walks towards the exit of his bedroom.

He glances back at you, examining your sleeping face, your parted lips, the way your hair fell over your face slightly. He feels his face heat up and looks away. "Fuck that." he huffs and exits the room, the door shutting with a click.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #schlatt #schlatt x reader #schlatt x you #ren writes #fanfic #schlatt x male reader #Gay

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rhaenella · 1 month

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CL16 & MV1 | Charm Offensive

pairing: charles leclerc x max verstappen

genre: one shot ✿

summary: max missed charles terribly over summer break and does everything in his power to talk to him

warnings: none (just a healthy dose of awkward mutual pining)

word count: 4,250

masterlist

also posted on ao3

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

“I got you something—or, well actually, I got Leo something.”

Pinched between his thumb and forefinger, Max held up a tiny, round-shaped charm with thin lines running crisscross over its surface. Charles stepped closer, squinting at the shimmering object.

“Is that–”

“A miniature stroopwafel to pimp up Leo’s collar?” Max nodded, dropping the silver accessory in the Monegasque’s palm. “Yes, it is.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

It was Sunday, August 25th, 2024, and Max Verstappen, three-time Formula 1 World Champion—usually as cool as they come—was nervous. Actually nervous. And not because of today’s home race or the shitty car his team was forcing him to drive this season, or the fact that said team was slowly breaking apart at the seams—no, it was because of his main rival. Charles Leclerc. The Sun of Maranello. Il Predestinato.

Spa was the last time they’d spoken. A brief and, like most of their interactions, awkward goodbye marking their separation for the long Summer break. Max had known that after they would fly back to Monaco—each on their own—he wasn’t likely to hear a word from Charles until the Dutch Grand Prix. And he’d been right. Four weeks of radio silence ensued. He’d heard nothing. Zilch. Nada.

It had been absolute torture.

Finally it was race week again, at Zandvoort no less. Max’s home turf. But Thursday rolled by… then Friday… On Saturday the Dutchman was sure he’d get the opportunity to talk to Charles. But alas, Max got P2 and Charles P6, which meant no post-Quali catchup for the two drivers. Because of course not… Those odds were rarely in his favour nowadays. Therefore, Max had to turn to more dramatic measures and that included going to the Ferrari motorhome himself, waltz in like he had every right to be there (he hadn’t), and play his final card (aka the ultimate excuse): to meet Leo Leclerc and give him and his daddy a gift he’d been keeping in his back pocket for months now.

It was also the main reason for his nerves. One glance around the Ferrari red motorhome and Max’s stomach dropped a little. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his white fireproofs and blue racing suit still hung low around his hips. Thankfully most of Ferrari’s pitcrew and employees were already geared up in the garage, getting ready for the race. However, the few people that were present immediately ceased their conversations upon his entrance, and downright gawked at him, confusion written all over their faces. No one said a word, but the question on everyone’s mind was loud and clear: what the hell are you doing here?!

Max sighed discreetly. You don’t wanna know… he thought to himself.

Forcing a smile, he gave them all a friendly wave as he walked past them in the direction of where the drivers’ rooms must be, the confidence in his gait surprising even himself. He didn’t have much time to spare, for the race’s opening ceremony would start soon and all drivers were obligated to attend. Luckily, Max quickly found the correct room, and once he did, he couldn’t help but snort as he read the nameplate. Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc — Illegitimate Prince of Monaco. Carlos’ doing, no doubt. Chuckling, Max knocked twice and waited. It was too late to second-guess his actions now anyway, best to just get on with it. And accept that he was probably going to make a fool of himself. Not even ten seconds later, the door swung open, revealing the man himself, all suited up for the race. Except for his bare feet.

“Max?” Charles frowned, glancing down the corridor, looking even more confused when he realised that it was just him. “What are you doing here?”

Max’s smile faded a little, his nerves getting the better of him as he awkwardly shifted his weight. Oh, for fuck’s sake, man up!

“I came to see Leo. I still haven’t met the little lad,” he explained, squinting past Charles to see if he could spot the cute puppy inside. “Can I come in?”

Charles didn’t move as he studied him for a moment, effectively blocking Max’s way into the very private room. He didn’t buy the lousy excuse for a second, but surprisingly enough, still seemed to consider letting him in. After what felt like an eternally long minute, he made up his mind and moved aside. “Yeah, sure.”

Max managed a smile. “Thanks.”

He stepped inside, letting his eyes travel over the minimalist furniture—a couch, table with chairs, a bed—as well as Charles’ clothes and other belongings scattered around. But no dog. Not even a dog bed. Or toys. Max turned around, his puzzled eyes landing on Charles who had just closed the door behind him.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but Leo isn’t here.”

“What do you mean?” Max frowned. Then why did you let me in?

“He’s back home staying with my mother, likely peeing all over her new floors,” Charles laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “So, uhm, I guess you’ve risked a rumour spree for nothing.”

“Oh… Okay… I see.” He really didn’t, though. Then his frown deepened. “Wait. What rumours?”

“About you being here? At Ferrari?” Leclerc tilted his head like it was obvious. “Or did you not think about the consequences of you showing your face here?”

Max stiffened. Yes. No… In all honesty, he had tried very hard to not think about it. But Charles was right. Him being here was only going to add more fuel to the fire that was his relationship with the Ferrari driver. Not that he cared about what the public thought per se. However, he did care about what Charles thought of it. So why did you let me in?!

“I have, but–”

“You don’t give a shit about what they write,” Charles finished with a smile.

“No, I don’t,” Max huffed a laugh. “Do you…?”

“I mean, not really. It’s always rumours versus truth anyway. And the truth is ultimately the only thing that matters, right?”

“It is,” he nodded. But what was the truth between them?

They were silent for a moment, their gazes locked, almost like they were in a ‘who will blink first’ competition. Charles broke first, shaking his head as he chuckled softly. “You’re really gonna make me ask, huh?”

“Ask me what?”

“About the rumours… If there’s any truth to them.”

Max blinked. Was Charles actually straight up asking him about their…? Oh, fuck.

“So, is there?”

A swarm of butterflies erupted in his stomach, his racing mind scrambling for an answer, but he couldn’t—he simply couldn’t. Charles raised a quizzical brow when all Max did was stare, prompting him to say something. He shook himself, and with great difficulty managed a deflective: “Uhm, I don’t–uhm… How do you feel?”

Smooth, Max, very smooth…

Charles canted his head. “How do I feel about the future, you mean?”

The future. Us. All of it. Max swallowed, then nodded. “Yes… the future.”

“Hell, I don’t know, Max,” he threw up his arms, chuckling lowly. “I honestly haven’t the faintest idea. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, Oh,” he laughed again, walking up to him. “You never told me how you really feel, so how the fuck should I know what the future holds?”

Max’s eyes never wavered from Charles’ approaching form, who stopped merely a few paces away, his green eyes softening as he looked him up and down. Apparently able to read all of his thoughts and feelings with a single look.

“Look, I get it. That feeling of uncertainty. The constant fight between your head and your heart. Asking yourself whether this will ruin everything or not. I truly get it…” Charles spoke, sincere, pausing for a moment to let those words land. “But whatever you decide, staying at Red Bull or not, I’m sure you’ll–”

Wait… What?

“Hold on a second,” Max held up a hand, alarmed. “At Red Bull… You’re talking about the future of my career?”

Charles’ eyes narrowed. “Yes? What else did you think we were talking about?”

Max felt the temperature in his cheeks rise. God, how could he be so stupid?! Of course, Charles was only talking about his career. That’s what everyone else was speculating about in the press. Not this thing between them. Whatever the hell that even was.

He needed to backtrack. And quickly.

“I–uhm, never mind,” Max shot him a crooked smile. “Thank you… for your words. Uhm, you’re right, it has been on my mind quite a bit lately, and yeah… I have struggled with it.”

It was an optimistic attempt. It truly was. But Charles knew him better than most other drivers on the grid—growing up together, they’d been through it all. The good and the bad. Naturally, he saw straight through Max’s act. But when the Monegasque’s own cheeks tinged a soft pink and he started fidgeting with the clasp of his race suit, Max knew he had nothing to fear. They were both two emotionally-unintelligent idiots, completely incapable of revealing their true feelings. And right now, Max was grateful for it.

Charles cleared his throat. “Right. Like I said, I get it.”

“Yeah, I know…” Max mumbled, following his lead to swiftly move past the slip-up. “Ferrari’s not been doing much better lately, are they?”

“Tell me about it,” he sighed, his eyes immediately darkening, even as part of him was grateful for the change in topic. “After winning Monaco… I was on such a high, and next thing I know it’s all gone to shit again. It almost seemed like one curse was lifted only for another to settle down over me. And just… Sometimes I don’t understand the team’s decisions anymore, you know? As if I can’t rely on them like I used to. Well, as much as I ever could.”

Max nodded sympathetically. He knew that feeling—that burden—all too well unfortunately. Not being able to deliver and perform to your maximum capacity because your team screwed up on strategy. Or worse, back at the factory. Meanwhile it’s you who gets the blame in the eyes of the masses. He also knew that that last bit weighed especially hard on Charles.

“Has it been on your mind as well?”

“What? Leaving Ferrari?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell no.”

They both laughed, the last bit of uneasiness disappearing like snow in the sun. Leaving, staying… It was never that simple, and they both knew it. The history either driver had with their team, their second family really, was not easily cast aside. Call it loyalty, or faith in what they both knew their teams could achieve, but those were the facts. However none of that stopped Max from poking his rival, just for the heck of it.

“Really?” he smirked. “You’re not even considering it a teeny-tiny bit after I’ve lapped you twice in the last four races?”

“Twice?!” Charles scoffed. “You got your facts wrong, mate. It was just the one time in Silverstone. Granted that was one time too many, but still.”

Max held up his hands in mock surrender. “Oh shit, you’re right, I’m sorry…”

“Thank you.”

“Although… you have to admit, I got pretty fucking close in Austria too.”

Charles rolled his eyes, trying not to smile. “Oh my god, shut up.”

“Fine, fine, I will,” Max bit his lip, looking down to hide his amused smile.

That’s when something curious caught Charles’ eye. A white, powdery substance was sprinkled over the front of Max’s blue team cap, causing his lips to stretch into a full smile this time. Max, the paddock’s ultimate neat freak, seemingly had no clue he’d been walking around with a dirty hat, and somehow that made it even more adorable.

“Hey, what’s that on your cap?”

Max looked up and startled—surprised to see that Charles had managed to silently sneak up on him, and was suddenly standing right there. He didn’t give him much time to think about his question either as he was already lifting his hand to gather some of the white powder off the rim with his finger. Charles sniffed it, and his brows lifted.

“Cocaine?! You sneaky little boy. So that’s your secret, hm?”

“What?! Fuck off,” Max snorted, bringing his own hand up to see what exactly was on his cap.

He grinned, licking his finger. “Nope, never mind. It’s too sweet for cocaine.”

“Uhu, and how would you know?”

He shrugged, smiling coyly, and Max chuckled, examining the white powder on his own fingers. Realising what it must be, he exclaimed: “Oh, I know what it is! They made me participate in a PR event at the poffertjes stand earlier today, some of the powdered sugar must have landed on my cap…”

He was about to take it off to clean but Charles stopped him.

“Wait,” he murmured. “Let me.”

Not waiting for permission, he stepped further into his space, close enough that Max could feel Charles’ breath tickling his skin. His heart rate ticked up, like it would during ‘lights out’ at a race start, and he quietly held his breath.

Leclerc’s teeth sank into his lower lip as he gently brushed the sugar off of Max’s blue hat. As if enchanted, Max’s gaze swept over Charles’ delicate features, from his perfect cupid’s bow all the way up to his birthmarks—savouring this rare moment where he could study them up close. However, once Charles was satisfied—which was way too soon for the Dutchman’s liking—he immediately stepped back, nodding once.

“You’re all good.”

“Uhm, thank you.”

They exchanged a brief smile before a curious look passed over Charles’ features, effectively yanking the Red Bull driver out of his all-consuming thoughts.

“I thought you did that last year, by the way. Making, uhm… poffertjes?”

Max’s eyes lit up. He remembered?

“No. Last year was stroopwafels… But speaking of those,” he grinned, fetching something from his back pocket. He would’ve almost forgotten his little gift. “I got you something—or, well actually, I got Leo something.”

Pinched between his thumb and forefinger, Max held up a tiny, round-shaped charm with thin lines running crisscross over its surface. Charles stepped closer, squinting at the shimmering object.

“Is that–”

“A miniature stroopwafel to pimp up Leo’s collar?” Max nodded, dropping the silver accessory in the Monegasque’s palm. “Yes, it is.”

“Oh my god!” A wide smile broke on his face as he turned the little stroopwafel in his hand. “It’s so cute! Thank you! You didn’t have to…”

“You’re welcome! I stumbled upon it a couple months ago when I was visiting my family and I just had to–”

“A couple months ago?!”

Max pressed his lips together, nodding shyly. “Yeah, now do you see why I had to meet Leo today.”

“You could’ve dropped by in Monaco too, you know.” Charles’ eyes glimmered knowingly. “You didn’t have to wait all this time.”

“I know, but,” Max shrugged, trying to come up with another awful excuse. “It’s only fitting. To give it here, I mean. In Zandvoort. Because, well, it’s a Dutch delicacy, and I thought that would make it extra special if I would give it–”

His rambling was promptly interrupted by Charles wrapping his arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. Max froze for a moment, his pulse spiking to unprecedented levels. Somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder if his team would still deem him fit to drive like this. This… bloody yearnful state. When he finally found his wits, he returned the hug, boyish grins painting both their faces. Yeah, this was definitely worth the trip into Ferrari territory. No doubt about it.

All too soon, they had to pull apart. Except this time, Charles didn’t move too far away from him.

“Thank you, Max. Truly. I love it so much. I’m sure Leo will too,” he smiled at the Red Bull driver, whose cheeks were once again flushing. “And please don’t hesitate to drop by after Monza. You’re welcome any time to meet him,” he added with a wink.

Max didn’t know what to say. He was completely stunned to silence. The man before him, who refused to follow him on social media, who had given him the cold shoulder on more than one occasion whenever they crashed together on track, who, if it wasn’t for groupchats, would never have given Max his phone number, was now openly inviting him to ‘drop by’? Flirting, even? What the hell was going on today? There must be something in the air, he thought. There has to be.

Much to the amusement of his rival, Max opened and closed his mouth several times, his brain once again failing to form any coherent sentence. But he ultimately didn’t have to, for he was saved by the bell. Or, rather, the ringing of his phone. Scrambling to get the device out of his pocket, Max looked at the screen to see who was calling him. GP. Great fucking timing, mate, he grumbled internally. Why he was suddenly so annoyed that his engineer ruined their (his) very awkward moment, he didn’t know.

Or did he?

Shaking his head, Max shoved his phone back into his pocket, and glanced up at Charles, who cleared his throat and gave him a small smile. The intensity of their previous moment officially lifted. Thanks, GP.

“Don’t you need to get that?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Max said, sounding anything but.

The time until lights out was dwindling with each passing minute, but Max didn’t want to leave their little bubble just yet. Outside, there were expectations, a nagging pressure to perform—to not let all those fans that showed up just for him down. In here, it was just them. A different kind of pressure for sure, but one Max relished nonetheless, and wasn’t ready to say goodbye to yet. Because really, he didn’t know when—if he would have this again.

As if Charles could read his mind, a careful hand found Max’s bicep. “Are you ready?”

“For the race?”

He nodded.

“Of course.” It wasn’t a lie. Racing itself was never an issue, not when you were born to do it like they were. “As much as I can be. I mean, this car… it’s just,” Max shook his head. “It’s obviously not where we want to be, but I’ll make sure to maximise its potential the best I can.”

“And not crash,” Charles smiled.

“That’s always step one.”

“The most important one, really,” he quipped, striding over to the couch to put on his shoes.

“Exactly,” Max agreed, running a hand down his face. It really was time to get going, or else they’d be late. “I just hope those updates are gonna pay off soon.”

“Ugh, me too. That Summer break was nice to recharge and all, but now I want nothing more than to get back in the car, and the sim this week, to learn as much as I can and make sure we don’t fuck up next weekend. We simply cannot afford any more mistakes.”

“I feel you... However, that break could’ve lasted another week or two, if you ask me.”

“Hm, maybe you’re right,” he grinned. “It wasn’t that awful to relax a little and forget about the last few races.”

Max chuckled. “Yeah, it definitely looked like you enjoyed yourself.”

Charles’ head shot up, instantly making him realise his mistake. Damnit. You fucking idiot!

“And how would you know about that?”

“Oh, uh, I see things… online… when, uhm, scrolling, every now and then…” And liking your friend’s instagram posts like a truly seasoned, inconspicuous stalker.

His hand went up to his ear, tucking a piece of way too short hair behind it. Only, Max realised that fact a little too late. Like always. Jesus… He really needed to stop acting like a flustered schoolgirl, this was on the cusp of getting embarrassing now.

“Right,” Charles trailed off, fastening the clasps on his shoes with a knowing smile.

He knew damn well Max regularly checked his social media, even without following him. He himself did the exact same thing. Not that he would ever let him in on that secret, seeing Max Verstappen all flustered was far too enjoyable.

There was a knock at the door, making both their heads turn simultaneously. Max let out a long, deep breath, genuinely happy with the interruption this time. But of course that didn’t go unnoticed by Charles, who chuckled as he made his way to the door.

“Coming!” he called, still grinning widely as he opened the door on a very angry-looking assistant.

“Why are you still in here?!” the woman shrieked, startling both drivers. “The ceremony is about to start. You can’t miss the national anthem, you know this! Get your stuff and let’s go!”

Charles opened his mouth to answer but at that moment Max’s phone started ringing, claiming everyone’s attention, and consequently revealing his presence. The Ferrari employee bristled something inaudible and pushed her way inside, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw what the reason was for the delay. Or rather; who.

“What the fuck is Verstappen doing in your–”

But Max ignored the scary woman and opted to finally pick up his phone instead. It was Christian calling this time. Which did not bode well.

“Max, where are you?! No one’s been able to reach you. You should’ve been on the grid ten bloody minutes ago!”

Max winced, his right eardrum shuddering thanks to Christian’s tinny voice screeching in his ear. His eyes locked with Charles’ from across the room, who grimaced painfully and mouthed, “We should probably go.”

Yep. They probably should.

Or risk getting another reprimand by the FIA. But in this season, neither of them had the luxury to gamble on such a risk.

“Max, are you there? Do you hear me?! You need to get over here, NOW. You are not allowed to miss the national anth–”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Christian. I’m on my way!” And with that Max clicked off, bolting towards the door. “Let’s go,” he declared, clumsily hurrying past Leclerc’s fuming assistant.

Charles snatched his cap and dashed after him. “Right behind you!”

“You better run fast or you won’t make it!” the woman yelled after them.

But they were already gone, sprinting out of Ferrari’s hospitality like madmen. Once outside, the drivers zigzagged through the paddock, trying their best not to run into fans, journalists, or flashing cameras. Max glanced at Charles, his mouth curving into a wry smile. They would surely be trending topic in no time now, there was no way around it…

Helmut was going to be absolutely thrilled. Ha.

Charles felt his stare, and looked to the left. “Just so you know, if we get called to the stewards, I’m blaming you.”

“What do you mean? I thought you appreciated my gift.”

“I do! But not when it leads to a grid penalty!”

Max laughed. “You can’t have it all, my friend.”

“Watch me,” Charles winked. Laughing when it nearly caused Max to run straight into two fans on their way to the paddock club.

“Shit, sorry about that. Are you okay?”

The fans’ eyes widened when they realised who they’d run into. Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. In the flesh. They could scarcely believe it.

“Hey! What are you two doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on the grid already?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded sheepishly, still facing the couple as they continued in that direction.

“You’re gonna be late,” one of them pointed out. “Duncan Laurence is all set and ready to go.”

“Fuck… Really?”

If he wasn’t mistaken, that was the artist performing the anthem this year. Shit, shit, shit… The thought of Helmut no longer brought a smile to his face. The Austrian would likely murder him for this little stunt.

“Yeah, you gotta hurry, man!”

Max pulled a face. “We know… Thanks… Oh, and uhm, enjoy the race!”

The two fans watched the drivers gain speed again and shared an amused look, deciding to switch to Dutch.

“Thanks! En succes zo, Max!”

“Ja, zet die Monegask weer als vanouds op een ronde!”

Max laughed awkwardly and gave the fans a thumbs-up as they rushed on towards start-finish where he could already hear the music playing loudly. No Wilhelmus yet, thank god. They might just make it on time.

Charles glanced back over his shoulder, frowning. “What did they say about me? She said ‘Monegasque’, didn’t she?”

“She did… Are you sure you wanna know?”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Okay then,” Max pursed his lips. He knew better than to argue with him. “She said to make sure to lap you… like old times.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah…”

Scoffing, Charles whirled around, running backwards now. “Vous rêvez, madame! Ça n’arrivera plus jamais!”

Max winced. “You realise we’re not in America, right? People tend to speak multiple languages here.”

Now it was his turn to shrug. “Do I look like I care?”

“Eh, you kinda do,” Max snorted, studying his rival as he turned back to face him, Leclerc’s mouth twitching into his signature, lewd smile.

“Oh really? And what do you see exactly?”

They slowed their pace once they crossed pitlane and entered the track. They made it! The crowd roared at the sight of the two star drivers, especially with one of them being their national hero—the reason why anyone was even here today; why Zandvoort was back on the calendar. But Max wasn’t thinking about any of that as he gazed into Charles’ eyes, too in awe of the fire blazing brightly in those mesmerising green orbs. Only one word came to mind to describe what he saw:

“Passion.”

****

a/n: thank you for reading this little story! and special thanks to my dearest french translator @xeresmalfoy !! as always, feedback is adored <3

translations:

En succes zo, Max! — And good luck in a minute, Max!

Ja, zet die Monegask weer als vanouds op een ronde! — Yeah, lap that Monegasque again just like old times!

Vous rêvez, madame! Ça n’arrivera plus jamais! — You wish, lady! That won’t ever happen again!

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gingerlee-holds · 3 months

Note

I would love another part of the letting of steam fic! :3

OH MY GOSH ITS MY FIRST REQUEST BATTLE STATIONS EVERYONE- thankyouthankyou so much for the request i love requests and i love you <3

Ler!Alastor and Lees!Charlie and Vaggie

A Rampage

Read the previous one here!

Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: Feet twords, barely any editing, and its sorta short

Alastor’s shadowy form snuck from hallway to hallway. To him, the game was no longer hide-and-seek but cat-and-mouse. He played with his food, tripping up the other residents, cackling distantly, and occasionally flickering the lights. He had decided to leave Lucifer in his little tickle trap until the game ended, but he was hungry for more. He had no idea that tickling could be so exhilarating! It was the perfect way to get energy out and feed his sadistic tendencies, all while not harming anyone! What could be better than that?

The radio demon’s subsequent targets were two floors below. The princess of hell lay under the bed of an empty room while the fallen angel was hidden in the closet.

Charlie whispered to Vaggie, practically vibrating with excitement. “I can’t believe it! We’re all playing a game together! This is the first time everyone’s participated in an activity since Dad moved in. Can you believe it, Vaggie? I can’t believe it!”

“You said that already.” Vaggie’s hair stood on end. If Charlie hadn’t spoken first, she would have immediately denied Alastor’s request to be the hunter. If there’s anyone you wouldn’t want stalking people down, even in a nonviolent way, it’s the radio demon. Vaggie would never admit to anyone, much less herself, that she was afraid of Alastor and, more importantly, what he was capable of. Her hand rested on the shaft of her spear warily.

Charlie, by contrast, was far less afraid of Alastor than she should have been. The bedframe kept her from moving too much, but if she could, she would flap her hands and kick her feet. Her pride had been wounded by the death of one of her hotel residents just a week prior, and the fact that everyone was participating in this group activity gave her hope that maybe the future of the Hazbin Hotel was bright.

“I can feel it, Vaggie! The group bonding exercises are paying off, and soon, this place will be absolutely crowded with sinners, all on the path to redemption!”

“Wacky nonsense, as Alastor puts it,” Vaggie whispered back, bringing the subject back to their problem. “We still don’t have a clue what happened in that fight he had with Adam. He had angelic weapons and the element of surprise, but he didn’t die. We don’t even know if Alastor confronted him at all. What if he just tucked tail and ran, leaving us to deal with Adam?” Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth, which felt cold and dark.

“Shhhhh~!” The quiet voice of the radio demon hushed. Vaggie held up her weapon, but before she could use it, she felt dark tendrils wrap around her arms, binding her hands to the shaft of her spear. The fallen angel yelled out curses into the palm over her mouth and struggled in Alastor’s grasp, but the radio demon simply pulled her up straight and hung her spear on a coat rack, leaving her suspended snugly and muted. “Now, watch the fun~!”

Her eyes widened in horror as she looked through the slats in the closet door at her girlfriend under the bed. She couldn’t warn her!

Charlie sighed, oblivious as the silent fight in the closet continued. “Don’t be like that, Vaggie. I’m sure he did his best. Honestly, in hindsight, it was silly to entrust him with such a big responsibility. All of that’s in the past, though! And besides, Alastor’s never tried to harm us.” She waited for a minute for Vaggie’s response, and not hearing one, she whispered again, louder, “Vaggie?”

After still no response, she began to get a little nervous. She slowly crawled out from under the bed and approached the closet, knocking quietly. Vaggie’s muffled shouts were completely silenced. Charlie laid a hand on the doorknob but was suddenly yanked backward by her legs, sending her to the floor in a heap. She yelped in shock and looked behind her, seeing a shadowy face grin from the darkness under the bed, dark hands reaching out for her. “W-what??” She kicked at the arms, but they swiftly wrapped around her ankles and tugged her toward the bed.

She was about to protest more. But she suddenly recognized the magic, and she began to laugh. “Alahastor! Hohow did you find me? My hihiding spot wahas so good!”

The radio demon’s voice seemed to come both from under the bed and from the closet: “Hence why I caught you the moment you stepped out from your hiding spot, princess!”

“Okahay, okahay! We were at least the last ones found, right?”

“Nope! I found you second. His Highness wasn’t even trying,” Alastor answered the question before Charlie could ask it.

“Ugh, fihine. Lemme go, and you can continue hunting!”

“Hmmmmm… no deal!” Alastor’s staff, resting against a dresser, let out a laugh track, seemingly at his command. “I’m not just going to let you go, darling!”

“What? What do you mean?” Charlie asked, a bit of a quiver in her voice. Suddenly, two more hands extended from the darkness, with shadowy fingers wiggling in her direction. ‘No. No, no, he wouldn’t. There’s no way-!’ Charlie felt her face heat up, and her squirming increased in intensity.

“Tell me, my charming demon belle, are you ticklish~?” Alastor’s voice got staticky when he said the word as he dragged it out playfully. Nervous giggles began bubbling from her lips as she remembered all the times she had been tickled as a child by her mother. Alastor should know very well how ticklish she is since Vaggie loved to sprinkle tickles into their daily routine. The fallen angel loved to unravel the usually anxious princess and let her happy squeals out, and everyone in the hotel knew that Charlie was an absolute fiend for tickles.

“A-Al, come on, let gohoHoho!” The hands reached forward and scribbled on the underside of her socks, making the princess melt into giggles. She rolled over onto her stomach and looked as the closet door slowly creaked open, showing Alastor leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest, smiling impossibly wide. Beside him, Vaggie dangled by the arms, eyes wide and filled with mirth as Alastor’s tendrils squeezed her hips. The sight was utterly precious - Charlie didn’t even know her girlfriend was ticklish! And evidently, Vaggie’s body went limp when she was tickled. She wished she could hear her laugh, but it was completely muffled. Nevertheless, Charlie could coo about the adorableness after they were freed from the deer demon’s clutches.

The radio demon waved to the princess, and Charlie’s ankles were tugged harder. She tried kicking to no avail as she was slowly dragged under the bed, clawing at the floor and squealing for mercy from Alastor and help from Vaggie; neither came.

When her lower body was entirely under the bed, Alastor got to work. With two hands on each foot, one for the sole and one for the toes, playing ‘this little piggy,’ Charlie instantly dissolved into hysterics. The princess banged her fists against the floor and thrashed as much as she could as her death spot was tactfully exploited, her shrieks and squeals filling the room.

Alastor came forward, bending down on a knee to ruffle Charlie’s hair. “I’m afraid, my dear, that your hotel is horribly infested! Didn’t your parents ever teach you to always check for monsters under the bed~?”

Charlie snorted, hugging herself to contain her laughter, but it was impossible. It just tickled so so much! And everyone in the room knew that she was enjoying every moment of it. The squeaks she made when her knees were squeezed were so cute that it almost made Alastor want to be merciful. Almost.

“Well, darlings, I’m afraid I must leave now to find the others. I must say, Charlie, I hope we play hide-and-seek again! It’s so dreadfully fun… for everyone involved~!”

Vaggie wanted to shriek out a ‘Don’t you dare leave us,’ but she could only make hiccupy laughs as she dangled limply. The feeling was utterly alien to her, but strangely, she didn’t mind it. She could see why Charlie loved being tickled so much. As Alastor faded from the room into the shadows again, leaving the two girls to face their tickles, Vaggie was at least grateful that Alastor didn’t muffle Charlie. She could listen to that precious laugh all day.

#ler!alastor #lee!charlie #lee!vaggie #hazbin hotel tickles #tickle fluff #tickle fic #kayde wrote something woah #kayde's in a lee mood tag

54 notes · View notes

writings-ofthe-heart · 1 year

Text

Blue Lips

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

❀ ; König had never really known you, but after a tricky mission and being left alone with you for a whole night, he might want to know more ...

❀ ; After being terrified of your colonel, you gain the confidence (and privacy) to talk to him once more, things go unplanned when you're attacked by a rogue soldier.

────── 〔✿〕──────

♡ Warnings? : None! Just some fluff, idk, xd

♡ Word Count : A little over 1.6K words

♡ POV In : First person, I got lazy rewriting all the pronouns to "you," soz :(

♡ Author's Note - Umm sorry I haven't done anything atsv i swear its rotting in my brain rn but i just did this one shot in under a couple days during my travelling :3 i hope you enjoy !!

(p.s my next writing thing WILL be ganke related x3)

(p.p.s.s? I hope the formatting is ok I'm new to tumblr xD)

"Sorry, we'll try to reach-- morning--" The radio stammered out, I shook it frustrated as we walked. The mission had gone successfully but we were left behind. Unfortunately, I was left behind with the Colonel. He was silent, the sound of his steps barely noticeable. My hand was shaking, upon realizing, I shoved it into my pocket. The Lt had told us to reach the safe house and stay put. It was 4 KM away from where we were so we have been walking most part of the evening and the sun had just set. A blanket of quiet settled over the forest, the only "loud" sounds being my footsteps.

The Colonel and I were never close, it could've been because of my general fear of authority and the such or just how eerily quiet he was, never awkward just silent. The only time I had really spoke to him was during missions and those fleeting moments never told me much about him, all other information about him I heard from rumours, that he was a cold blooded soldier and a weapon for KorTac. He had bouts of going far away for weeks and months at a time, on so called "private enlistings." I never got curious, too frightened by him to try and find out more about him. But that's changing now, as he walks behind me I can't help but wonder about him.

My voice breaks the silence. "Where are you from, König? You have quite the accent,"

He seemed a little startled when I spoke, and he flatly replied, "Austria, German is the national language there."

I clicked my tongue, teeth chattering. "Cool." The next few minutes were silent and I veered off into the trees, hearing a creek bubbling. I called out to König quietly, "I'm going to fill my canteen. There's a creek over here." He hummed his acknowledgement. I got to the body of water and crouched down. Unscrewing the canteen, I put it down in the water. It was freezing, I tried to ignore the stinging in my knuckles and the tips of my fingers. From behind, I heard a knife unsheath. I tried to turn swiftly, grabbing my pistol from the holster but the attacker was too fast, pinning me down on the hard rocks.

They held the knife to my throat, breathing heavily. As my eyes adjusted from the stars in my vision, I realized it was a man. He had a beard, a mustache accompanying it. The man didn't need to speak for me to understand his intentions, a savage glint in his eyes. He seemed to be injured, desperate for anything. I look down at his tactical vest, but my movement provokes him and he shoves me under the water. I kick and thrash but he's taller, bigger than me. My pistol is taken and my knife is in my pant leg. The coldness grips me tightly.

König had been surprised I had even talked to him, after all, he knew I was scared of him, everyone was. It gave him a rush, but sometimes he wished they weren't terrified of König. He was sitting at the base of a tall, frosted tree, sipping at his own canteen. The Austrian man took note of the time, realizing I've been gone for longer then he felt comfortable with. Even if he had no feelings tied to me, he was a colonel and had to take care of his soldiers. König dusted his jeans off and calmly made his way to the creek. Upon seeing me being forcefully submerged in the creek by a strange man, he went livid.

Everything was a blur already as the man had started to choke me, shaking me and throwing me on the rock bed again and again. A vignette settled around my vision and I weakly yelled out in pain. Blood swirled in the water I was shoved in, my attacker showing no sign of stopping. König ran in long strides, ripping the man off me. With his bulk and strength, he had him easily in a chokehold.

The man fought him, as he had grabbed his knife I wrestled off him from the dirt. I could only sit up and take gulps of cold air, they were like daggers in my lungs but I couldn't help it. I was shaking violently, standing up and wobbling over to help König. He had already taken out his pistol and after shoving the man to the ground, he aimed point blank. His eyes were narrowed, and if he had no mask on, you'd be able to see the haunting smile as the bullet wrecked the mans head. Blowing his brains out was nothing to König.

I had barely been able to register the gun shot as more than the ringing in my ears after. The snowfall was heavier then ever, cold wind freezing my clothes and along with it my body. After the kill had been delivered, König rushed over to me. He crouched down the slightest bit, his accent thick in his words, "Liebe, are you okay?" I wrapped my arms around myself, teeth chattering. I could barely mumble a reply without stammering half the sentence but I tried. "N.. No." My scowl at him took all my remaining energy and I nearly collapsed on him.

"Oh, sheiße!" He hissed, holding me in place. The only sound being my grunts of pain, the cold feeling like I was shattering into pieces.

"We've got to get you to the safe house. It's so close to here! Can you walk schatz?" He panics, holding my frozen hands. "Ah, you're like ice." König comments. I take a couple steps with him, another breeze blows by and my knees give out. I cry out painfully, grabbing Königs arm. He hushes me sympathetically, pulling me close.

"Ok, meine liebe, i need you to listen to me, ja? I'm going to carry you, but you can't, please, you cannot," He firmly talks to me taking a breath, making sure my lidded eyes stay open. "You cannot fall asleep, stay awake, ok? We'll get to the safe house in no time."

König knew he had a timer, it started to tick down as soon as I got out of water, breathing heavily. It was now or never, or else I'd slip into the afterlife. He couldn't let that happen. Now he was running as quick as he could, his long legs lunging forward. If their lieutenants information was correct, the safe house should be around the corner from these birch trees, and like the heavens opened for him, there was a run down, abandoned looking house covered in sheets of white.

König slammed the door open and kicked it closed as he rushed in, his heart pounding and the blood roaring in his ears. I was shivering in Königs arms, fighting every nerve in my body begging me to let go, but I knew I couldn't, I couldn't leave him alone, alone here. Those were my only coherent thoughts as König set me down in front of the fire, rummaging desperately through each drawer in the living room. My puffs of air coming out as thick clouds in the room, I could hear Königs quickened breathing as he searched around. When I heard him sigh out a noise of victory, it was a telltale sign he found matches.

I looked at him through my heavy eyes, König flicked it and it caught on fire. He tidyed the logs in the fireplace and threw the match in, blowing it softly so it'd grow faster. My teeth chattered vigorously but I couldn't feel my lips, or my legs. König carefully peeled my tactical vest off, looking at me gently. "Schatz, I need to take your clothes.. off..." His eyes seemed to be pleading with me and all I could do was nod slightly. König worked fast while still being so gentle with my freezing body, and in a matter of minutes, I was bare, stripped to my undergarments. He swallowed, trying to stop his eyes wandering.

König took his vest off, basically stripping himself as well. Now, I couldn't help but stare. He was built like an ox, along with being huge, his muscles were just daunting. I screwed my eyes shut to keep out the indecent thoughts.

"You're tired, no? It's ok, meine liebe. Let me get some blankets and we will sleep." He reassured me and I could only nod, whimpering quietly trying not to tremble with everything in me. My arms were wrapped around my body tightly. After a few minutes, he came back with a pillow and blankets. König sat down next to me, gently sliding a blanket below me and then the rest on top.

His hands were warm.. so warm. I could feel my mind shutting down and König noticed, of course he did. My sleepy eyes, the red tint of my cheeks and nose. He could hear me mumbling, but was too dazed in my appearance, "Sorry, what'd you say?"

"Can you come closer? You're really, really warm." I whisper. König looked at me, silent like always. After a long pause, he nodded.

Shifting closer to me, he (awkwardly) put his arms around me. I leaned on him, contently sighing. He couldn't believe what was happening, König was never typically a 'ladies man' and now that it was happening, he froze up. König looked down at me, feeling a warmth touch his chest. I had fallen asleep on him. He couldn't do anything but sit there, cocooning me in his arms with his gun by his side in case of an emergency.

He didn't sleep at all, if only to keep me safe.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #x reader #writers on tumblr #fanfiction

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waklman · 2 years

Text

Delicate (Pt. 3)

summary: jake quickly learns that he can’t manage without you, at all.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader

warnings: mentions of childhood neglect, negative self-talk, and one brief instance of suggestive language. 18+ blog.

word count: 3.1k

previous part

“There you are.” Natasha shouts a little too loudly, the adrenaline from the last round of dogfight football is still rampant in her system–practically oozing from her pores.

Catching her breath, the brunette steadies herself, anchoring both hands onto the flesh of her hips, fingers firm over her figure. Upon not receiving any signal of acknowledgement from Hangman, Natasha leans forward, searching to see if he has his bluetooth headphones snuck into his ears again. But, those navy blue pods are nowhere in sight–for the very first time this week Hangman isn’t drowning everyone out with music.

Natasha feels herself grow nervous as she observes him now. It’s almost like she’s looking at a stranger.

In front of her, Hangman is laid on his back, forgoing a beach towel entirely—his backside directly on the burning sand, while the sun nips at his front. Not an inch of his body is protected by sunscreen either, refusing it from Coyote earlier in the day.

And Jake lays there, fully aware that the heat from the sun is punishing him, but it’s exactly what he needs–no–what he deserves.

There has been radio silence between you two since last week, and with every passing day, guilt gnaws at him until he’s left debilitated. But he allows that guilty feeling to sink its teeth into him and spread like poison—because Jake knows that deep down, this is entirely his fault, and that he deserves this. He had promised you–no more Stella, and yet she showed up at his door anyway.

A small part of Jake had known that he could’ve done more to prevent this too–he could have told her to never talk to him again, he could have blocked her number, and he could have made the front desk remove her name from his guest list, but he didn’t–leaving a small crack of opportunity for her to slip in and she did–right in front of you.

“What are you still doing here?” Natasha attempts to joke, but there’s no reaction from him.

“How about we head inside with everyone else..” she begins to offer.

No answer.

“Hangman?”

Still, no answer.

Natasha’s jaw tightens as the frustration starts to slowly build. She watches him in disbelief as he doesn’t even spare her a single glance, refusing to open his eyes.

“I said, let’s go.” Her voice is strung with impatience.

She lets the statement hang in the air, believing her clear agitation would earn her a response, but it doesn’t even stir him.

Finally having enough, Natasha snaps. “Jake.”

And just like that, she fizzles out every loud thought that’s been consuming his head.

“Oh.” Jake whispers to himself, sitting up to look around as if he wasn’t aware of his own surroundings.

Natasha’s scoffs, watching as he slowly gathers himself, dusting the sand off his shorts.

“That’s it? Oh?” she shouts, arms shooting up in the air.

Her arms fall flat against her sides again, “I’ve called for you over five times, Jake.”

He looks up at her startled, as if he’s now noticing she’s there.

With furrowed brows, she stares back harshly as Jake swipes a disappointed hand over his jaw, trying to pull himself together.

“I’m sorry.” he quietly apologizes, arms dropping like dead weight on his sides. His eyes are only on her for a second before they drop to look at the sand below her.

Not sure what to make of his sudden apology, Natasha’s anger simmers almost immediately. “You know what. It’s fine. Let’s just–let’s head inside for drinks.”

“Hey Hangman?” Bob worriedly looks back, hoping for a response from the pilot.

After wrapping up things at the beach, the dagger squad headed inside for drinks. But sadly enough, Jake ended up quietly nursing a beer all night, just to knock out from heat exhaustion at the bar before he even could finish his drink.

And with Coyote too drunk to even properly utter his best friend’s address, Phoenix and Bob find themselves playing the role of detectives and babysitters.

“You won’t get a reply out of him, he’s out cold.” Natasha sighs, pulling into the lot of your apartment complex.

Bob’s face twists in confusion, instantly recognizing their location from the window behind Hangman’s head.

“Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital instead?” he asks, turning to face his girlfriend.

“Trust me, this is better than the hospital for him.” She assures him. “Now grab his phone for me, please.”

Natasha pulls her keys out of ignition, then reaches to hit the car light above her as half of Bob’s body twists over to reach where Hangman’s seated.

Bob finally pulls himself back into his own seat, after struggling to not accidentally touch Hangman anywhere important in search for his phone.

He swiftly hands the blond’s phone over to her, “Here.”

Natasha puts out a hand to grab the phone being passed to her, looking down towards the screen.

Her head snaps back to the man on her right, ”Bobby…how'd you unlock his phone?”

Bob smiles sheepishly at her. “Face ID?”

Natasha shoots him a stern look, “That doesn’t work if you’re dead asleep.”

“He unlocks his phone around me a lot.”

Natasha smiles, nodding her head at his confession–satisfied that he cracked so easily under her pressure.

“That sounds more like it,”

Both pilots share a small laugh, appreciating their small moment together–before turning around to the noise in their backseat, alerted by Hangman mumbling your name in his sleep.

Remembering who’s seated in the back of their car, Natasha turns back around–skimming through Hangman’s phone in search of your contact.

“God, look at this sap.” Natasha tilts the phone in her boyfriend’s direction.

Bob’s eyes skim over your contact name, slightly taken aback by Jake’s clear affection for you, “Are they dating? There’s so many heart emojis..”

Natasha smiles to herself, “I’ll be damned if they’re not. This is the first time I haven’t seen them glued to each other's side since they met.”

You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing there, outside your own bedroom door. With tired hands, you weakly trace over the little sketches of pizza you and Jake drew onto the patch underneath the door knob. It was from one of the first times you two hung out by yourselves, Jake had begged for your permission to erase his drawing that day–feeling self conscious because your pizza looked better than his. But, once you told him you loved his pizza even more than yours, he immediately began to love his own little pizza as well–appreciating its uneven shape and disproportionate sauce to cheese ratio.

You swallow looking at Jake’s pizza doodle, knowing you’ll be spending another night wide awake–shot numb by heartache.

Just as you’re about to twist at the doorknob, you’re quickly interrupted by the buzzing in your sweater pocket. Your hand slowly withdrawals from the door in reaction, reaching inside your sweater, fingers brushing against the cotton lining for your phone–bringing it up to view once the buzzing device is your grasps.

There’s no way. You blink unbelievingly at the device in your hands. Jake’s smiling face takes over every pixel of your screen, and before you could think–you’re reaching to answer the call.

“..Jake?” you feel breathless.

“You brat.” Natasha’s voice snaps at you from the other line.

“So you can pick up his call, but not a single one of mine all week?” Her words are slightly muffled by her clenched teeth, but you make out what she says.

“Oh. Hi Nat.”

“You sure sound like you missed me.”

“Nat, I–I did miss you, I’m sorry.” you scramble, feeling guilty.

“What’s wrong with you two lately?”

“Nothing. It’s–we’re fine.” you attempt to assure her.

“Okay?...well I have a special delivery for you outside. So please accept this gift, before he flatlines in my car.”

You’re almost unsure what to do with what’s in front of you. The sight of Jake’s exhausted state on your couch makes your heart churn in pity–but his face also sends a flood of pain rushing into your system.

Natasha and Bob left not long ago. They had made a team effort to lug him up to your door, helping you look after him as he was completely unaware of where he was–knocking in and out of consciousness. Bob had even gracefully offered to wash the other man–scrubbing Jake’s body in your bathtub to the best of his ability–nervous eyes scrambling to look anywhere but down.

For the first time tonight, you reach to touch him, knees bent in front of the couch to observe him more closely. You barely graze his skin, fingers softly brushing to move the strand of hair that covers his eyes. And it’s almost like his body learned to recognize your touch–alerting Jake to wake up. You are completely still for what feels like hours, nervously watching as his eyes slowly pull open, and those eyes instantly widen from seeing you.

You feel almost incapable of speaking from seeing his reaction. Jake is at a loss for words as well–mind reeling to comprehend how you’re sitting in front of him, blobs of fuzzy memories not patching together well enough for a clear timeline. Feeling like he got punched in the chest, Jake’s ribs constrict tightly from the way you’re looking at him–reminding him of what he’s done to you. The hurt he’s caused is confronting him now.

Not willing to worsen your heartbreak, you use up the little energy you have left to speak–quietly trying to dismiss him. “Go back to sleep, Jake.”

You’re already moving to distance yourself from him, again–and Jake panics, grabbing your wrist, loosening his grip immediately after catching you, making sure not to hurt you.

“Don’t, please.” he begs softly.

You don’t turn back around, worried that his face might be the final trigger you needed to cry. Instead, you twist your hand to hold his.

“Let’s go to bed, I’m tired Jake.”

Like a lost puppy, Jake gets up and lets you lead him to your bedroom. As you two pass through the door, his footsteps suddenly become heavier knowing what’s etched onto the tall slab of birch. Memories of the day you taught him how to appreciate his little imperfections through your silly analogies with pizza flood back into his throbbing skull, and the guilt coats his mouth again.

Once you're both standing in front of your bed, you let go of his hand–still choosing not to face him. You quickly tuck yourself onto the left side of the bed, knowing he preferred the right.

Jake’s heart sinks watching you fall onto the mattress weakly, burying yourself under the thick comforter. You’re upset with him, but you still give him the consideration that he doesn’t deserve–remembering the small comment he made to Phoenix and Bob once, about how the right side is always more comfortable.

Feeling Jake finally slip into bed next to you, his weight causing you to slowly slip over to his side–you scoot your body closer to the edge. With a heavy heart, you remind yourself to keep a distance there, in some respect for Stella.

And all Jake can do is watch with sad eyes, as you physically pull away from him. But there’s nothing he can do–you’re both too fatigued by the long days spent without each other to have a coherent conversation right now.

After moments of silence, Jake hears you softly snore beside him, making his heart feel a little lighter—knowing you were comfortable enough to actually sleep next to him. And not even a minute passes before Jake’s begins to drift off as well, eyes growing heavy and limbs falling slack–finally matching your steady breathing.

There’s a tickling sensation that wakes you up, but it quickly disappears.

You slowly blink away the sleepiness, trying to make sense of what time it is–lazily attempting to focus your vision onto the dim sky that peaks through the blinds, not brave enough to turn over to check the clock on the other side. But suddenly, the tickling sensation is there again, on the skin of your lower back.

Behind you, Jake is absentmindedly dragging his finger across the small sliver of exposed skin between your ribbed shorts and plain shirt. In the middle of the night, Jake stirred awake just to see that your back is still facing him. After an internal struggle where Jake fought the urge to reach out to embrace you, he settles on writing his apologies on your back for the next hour.

You stiffen, but this goes unnoticed by Jake–who’s completely unaware that he’s woken you up.

Laying there, you feel your throat start to itch realizing what he’s been repeatedly writing on your back. Jake’s writing, I’m so sorry. You let him trace out the statement one more time, not wanting to interrupt him–before flipping around to finally face him, causing him to quickly retract his hand.

The room remains unlit, besides the deep purple light emitting from the sky–glistening against his teary eyes. Your eyes nervously scan his face, bringing an instinctive hand up to swipe away the fresh tear that slips from his eyes.

Straight away, Jake snaps his eyes shut–eyebrows pinching at the center, completely overwhelmed. He almost forgot how it felt to be handled by you.

Then, the painful reminder he’s been hearing in his head for the past few days makes its presence known again. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deser-.

“I’m so sorry too, Jakey.” you sweetly whisper, hoping he would open his eyes.

Jake’s face twists in pain, as if someone physically harmed him. How could you be sorry? He deserved the silent treatment–he always deserved the silent treatment. The one that you gave him? He deserved that. The ones his older brothers always gave him growing up? He deserved those too. And the one his father is currently giving him? He especially deserves that one.

“I didn’t talk to her. I don’t–I never want to talk to her again. Please I–I’m so horrible to yo-I don’t deserve-” Jake feels like a little boy again, stuttering out his poorly constructed apologies to his father, who couldn’t care any less to hear them.

“Jake.” you cut him off.

Jake unravels further under your touch, more tears streaming down his face upon feeling your hand slip down to the side of his neck–thumb stretching over to stroke at the birthmark he hated at the center of his throat.

“It was wrong for me to ignore you. You never deserve to be treated like that.” you gently whisper.

And in an instant, Jake Seresin completely shatters. All the burdens that casted over his heart since childhood, disappear. All the negative thoughts that swarmed his consciousness since he became a teenager falls silent. And finally, the slow acceptance that Jake didn’t deserve to have a good constant in his life comes to a complete halt. All relieved by you.

Jake finally wills himself to open his eyes, meeting your stare.

“I missed you.” he announces, looking in your eyes intently.

“I missed you, too.” you reply, blinking up at him.

You feel your heart beginning to sputter, noticing Jake’s eyes slowly trail down to look at your lips, with all his attention placed there.

Slowly, you bring your hands up to cradle his face, fingers twitching against the sharp line of his jaw–but Jake’s eyes are still tracing over the shape of your lips.

And before Jake could do it, you lunge forward first–capturing his lips in an intentional kiss. You languidly move your mouth against his in the darkness, making Jake’s skin run hot against yours as he kisses you back–pressing his chest closer to your front.

Without breaking the kiss, Jake moves to hoover above you–body slotted between the space between your thighs, hands reaching under your lifted shirt to sweetly swipe at the skin of your waist.

“You’re so good, Jake.” Jake shudders, feeling you whisper the praise against his mouth–lips softly brushing against his own wet ones. Accepting the praise, Jake slips his lips between yours once again–heart swelling from the way you sweetly kiss him back.

You kiss him unlike anyone has before. There’s no clashing of teeth–no desperate teasing–no rough pulling. Instead you kiss him–with a gentle intent lingering behind it. And that intention is there, through the way you softly maneuver your lips against his. And Jake’s heart twitches in realization–you’re kissing him with love. You love him.

Unable to contain himself, Jake pulls away to look at you. You stare back shyly, lips parted and swollen underneath him, your chest rising and lowering to catch your breath.

“I love you.” he confesses back, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

You rapidly blink as Jake lowers himself to kiss your collarbone, “I love you.” he whispers there.

“I love you.” he kisses your clothed tummy, causing your stomach to swirl in effect.

He moves down further, kissing the skin of your hip. “I love you.”

“Jake?” He immediately pauses.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I love you too,” you pause, Jake curiously looks up at you–taking in the way the orange glow of the rising sun began to softly kiss your face.

“..but are you in the mood for pizza?”

Jake falls flat against your stomach, smiling ear to ear. “I can never win against pizza, can I?”

“I knew they were open!” you squeal, thrashing around to free yourself from the seatbelt.

Jake shakes his head–a smile tugging at his lips, amused that you knew a pizza shop that was open this early in the morning.

Before Jake could pull his keys out of ignition, you’re shooting out the side of his car–your excited cheering echoing through the empty parking lot.

“How are you so damn fast?” Jake laughs, finally catching up to you at the entrance–slipping his hand into the back pocket of your denim jeans.

“Don’t you pilots have the need for speed?” you tease, grinning up at him over your shoulder.

While lowering his head to kiss your shoulder, Jake’s hand slips out from your back pocket–moving to stuff half his fingers inside your smaller front pocket instead, with the addition of hooking his lonely thumb into the band of your jeans.

“Trust me sweetheart, the need is there.” he whispers into your ear.

You snap your head at him, “Are we talking about the same thing right now?”

Jake scrunches his lips, “How about you try pineapple pizza today.” he offers, totally ignoring your question.

“What will you give me if I do?” you tease, leaning back on him.

“Come on, get your head out of the gutter.” Jake pretends to be shocked by your statement.

Your face falls flat, very unamused by him. “I hate you.”

“That’s not how I remember it. Now—let’s get you some pineapple pizza, my hungry girl.” Jake grins, moving you both forward into the familiar pizza shop.

note: thank you so much for reading delicate, this part was a personal favorite of mine. as always, reblogs are very greatly appreciated!

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matchingbatbites · 1 year

Text

you're the inspiration

@steddie-week Day 5: Established relationship This starts out kind of panicked, but it does have a happy ending!

Eddie knows he isn’t brave. He knows how to stand up to bullies, how to make himself seem big and untouchable, but actually having to face danger, something that could cost him his life? No, he’s a coward all the way. He’s spent the last few days more afraid than he’s ever been in his entire life, the only relief being the familiar faces around him, helping him navigate this nightmare.

Every single moment of fear from the last week is overshadowed when he hears Robin Buckley’s terrified, wailing “Steve!” from the Munson living room.

He moves without thinking, rushing to the living space from the bedroom with Dustin hot on his heels, and his heart stops when he sees Steve standing in the center of the room, eyes white and unseeing.

Robin is frantic, her hands hovering over him like she wants to grab him but is afraid to. "We- We need a tape! Springsteen or Tears For Fears or something!"

The others start digging around in their bags, trying to find an appropriate tape, but Eddie knows that even if they find one, none of them will work. He shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out the tape he had thankfully grabbed from the stereo in his van, and prays that it’s dry enough after his unexpected dip into Lover’s Lake as he crams it into the nearby cassette player.

The kids are talking over each other, almost unintelligible as Eddie lets the tape rewind as much as possible, trying to get back to the first song. When he presses play he’s flooded with relief as he hears the familiar sound of Peter Cetera.

And I know, yes, I know that it's plain to see

We're so in love when we're together

He cranks up the volume to it's max and shoves it as close to Steve as possible while leaving it plugged in, sending the rest of the group into silence.

Robin looks at him, and her fear thaws a little, hope taking its place as she realizes what song is playing.

Dustin’s eyes snap from Steve to the radio, to Eddie. “What are you doing? He doesn’t even listen to this stuff!”

Now I know (Now I know)

That I need you here with me

From tonight until the end of time

Eddie ignores everyone else as he steps closer. He can’t stop himself from reaching for Steve, he needs to touch him, needs to bring him back to them. He marvels again at how Steve’s face was made to fit in his hands, and Eddie finds that he wants nothing more than to hold it for the rest of his life.

He mutters a soft “Come back to me, baby,” that goes unheard over the sound of Chicago blaring from the nearby speaker.

You should know

(Yes, you need to know)

Everywhere I go

Steve starts to lift off the floor and one of Eddie's hands slides around to the back of his neck, trying to keep him grounded. He needs to break through the curse Steve is under, needs to stop it, and he barely notices Dustin grabbing onto one of Steve’s arms as he starts to sing along, trying to coax his boyfriend back to reality.

“You're always on my mind. You're in my heart, in my soul.”

He can't lose Steve. They haven't been dating long - fuck, they haven't even hit six months yet - but Eddie knows that Steve is it for him.

Dustin had opened his eyes to the change in Steve's heart, and after a few run-ins with the former jock he had seen it himself. He made a point to get to know this new Steve, away from prying eyes or people who might cause him to be anything less than his genuine self, and Eddie fell ass over tit in love with what he found.

“You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration."

The younger had eventually opened up to Eddie about his relationship failures, about how sometimes he feels completely unlovable, and Eddie took a risk. He made the leap, offered to be the one to love Steve if he would just give Eddie a chance.

Surprisingly, Steve had agreed, and Eddie followed through. He loved Steve recklessly, even as they kept it secret for their own safety, even though Steve didn't feel quite the same at first.

Now, they like to joke that Eddie fell fast, but Steve fell hard.

"You bring feeling to my life, you're the inspiration."

It was the smallest thing, in the end. Eddie made him a gift, a mix tape lovingly dubbed the Sunshine Mix, and Steve had cracked a joke about Eddie titling it like that to trick him into listening to metal.

"No tricks, angel. Just some songs that make me think of you."

They popped the tape in right then, and Steve had seemed pleasantly surprised when Chicago started flowing from the speakers of Eddie's van. Eddie grinned at Steve's wide-eyed expression as they sat through the first verse, and he couldn't help but join in with the chorus, singing directly to Steve.

"Wanna have you near me, I wanna have you hear me sayin'!"

And in that moment, three months into their unexpected friendship, one month after Eddie started to love Steve without abandon, Steve just- Kissed him. He reached over and took Eddie's face in his hands and kissed him, more gentle than anything Eddie had ever experienced.

When he pulled back he was looking at Eddie with stars in his eyes, and the older could feel his heart skip a beat as Steve sang to him softly.

"No one needs you more than I need you."

Steve blinks and white gives way to warm hazel, and Eddie barely catches him as he falls back to Earth with a gasp. Eddie holds him tight as they tumble to the ground, and Steve grabs him in turn as a sob rips through him.

“Eddie.”

“I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you, I promise.”

He presses his face into Steve’s hair as he rocks them gently, eternally grateful when he hears Robin shooing the teenagers outside with a soft “He’s okay, just give them a minute.”

They’re going to owe everyone an explanation, and Eddie is already preparing himself for the menace that Dustin will be when he finds out that he's the reason Steve and Eddie even started talking.

For now he just holds Steve, fingers digging into the denim of Eddie's vest that Steve is still wearing because Eddie was supposed to be getting him a shirt to change into.

It takes a moment for Steve to calm down, for his breathing to return to normal. He laughs wetly as the song fades out and Toto starts to play over the speaker.

"Do you just keep this tape on you all the time?"

"Course I do. You never know when you might have to save your boyfriend from evil wizards from an alternate dimension."

Steve laughs again and pulls back enough to look at Eddie's face, and they shift a bit so they're sitting more comfortably.

"Hi," he mutters.

Eddie can't resist leaning in, nudging their noses together gently. "Hi yourself. You scared the shit outta me, baby."

"M'sorry," Steve replies quietly, and Eddie presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

A sharp “Henderson!” comes from outside, and Steve and Eddie both jump when the door slams open hard enough that it almost bounces off the interior wall. Dustin barrels inside and practically throws himself onto Steve, nearly in tears as he asks “Are you okay?!”

Steve laughs softly and pulls the kid into a tight hug. “Yeah, I’m okay. That bastard has nothing on Chicago."

Dustin grumbles something into Steve's shirt before he pulls away, and the others start filing back in as he looks between Steve and Eddie and says "Explain."

Edde glances at Steve, who shoots him a look. “How about we get through this, and we’ll tell you everything, top to bottom. Deal?”

The kid is hesitant, but eventually relents and allows Steve to pull him back into his arms, and Eddie is only a little uncomfortable when the other teens join the pile, each needing their own reassurance that steve is okay.

He just lets it happen, pulls the whole bundle of them closer as they take a moment to calm down before the real terror begins.

#steddieweek2023 #day 5 #LISTEN #i know the song of the day is hold the line #but I couldn't not do Chicago #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #joey writes #ficlet

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ash5monster01 · 1 year

Note

could you write reader introducing Steve to Taylor Swift (let's pretends she exists in the 80s) and him loving her and being a huge swiftie

Mine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, language, cliches

Summary: Taylor Swift is a big musical artist in the 80s and you’re a huge fan. In the midst of your excitement about her new album you introduce Steve to her and her music. He ends up loving her too. Steve Harrington would for sure be a swiftie boyfriend.

word count: 2,542

Masterlist

It took all week to convince Steve to drive you to the record store. Ever since the mall had burned down the closest music shop was a town over. Forty minutes away to be exact. Sometimes Melvalds would get a few things in so people didn’t have to travel so far but you knew they wouldn’t have Taylor Swifts newest album. It was going to be on shelves this Friday so that meant begging Steve all week to drive you since you didn’t have your own car. He had finally caved, asking off of his shift at Family Video, just so he could drive you to the music store. You always could get him to cave.

“I don’t get what’s the big deal about this chick” Steve muttered, hands gripping the steering wheel, his Foreigner cassette staticky on the radio.

“First of all she’s not a chick, and second of all she’s amazing. How have you not heard any of her songs?” you accused, turning in the passenger seat to face him better. You had been jittery all day about getting the new album, you had saved all your tips from work for months.

“I don’t know Y/N. I don’t really have time for new music” you rolled your eyes, turning back to sit forward in your seat.

“Yeah, I know. that’s why you’re Foreigner cassette skips, because you never take it out” and then you were reaching a long finger to press eject, silencing the album that everyone knew inside and out because Steve always had it on.

“Hey, I like that song” he pouted like a child but you could only laugh, shoving the cassette back in its case that had literally collected dust from how long it had been empty. Once returned safely in the center counsel you were digging through your bag, looking for the correct tape.

“This is the album we’re picking up today” you informed him, slipping the cassette out and shoving it in his stereo.

“You already have it?! Then why the hell am I driving almost an hour away?” he looked at you with wide eyes, annoyance painting his features.

“She released her version of the album, her first six albums she lost ownership of to her shitty record label. Yet she still owns the rights to the songs since she wrote them all herself. She’s reclaiming what’s hers and making it better all while releasing songs she wasn’t able to put in the album the first time around. She’s bad ass” you explained, adjusting the radio before pressing play. “Just listen”

Steve was still shaking his head when the melody of Mine began to play over the radio. At the sounds of Taylor’s voice, you relaxed back in your seat, excited to hear the latest version of this song. A song you had loved since you were a kid and now it got to be Taylor’s again. Once the lyrics started you closed your eyes, singing along with the lyrics that you wished could be true about the guy beside you. Steve had always been in your life, a dormant best friend, just an accessory to the grand life he had lived throughout highschool, and you were desperatley, irrevocable, in love with him. Always had been. Unbeknownst to you Steve could only glance over as you sang to the lyrics, unaware of his stare and admiration because it had always been you. Always been his.

Do you remember, we were sittin' there by the water?

You put your arm around me for the first time

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

You are the best thing that's ever been mine

"Gosh, you just know she knows what real love feels like. It's like all the feelings I can't describe she has been able to put into words and write a song about it" you spoke, eyes opening to look at Steve and see he was already looking at you. Slowly his head turned back to the road, a soft smile on his face.

"I can agree, she's very clever with her writing. The song is good too" you chuckled lightly, hand falling to squeeze Steve’s that laid leisurely on the center console.

"It's just us, always has been. If you want to enjoy her music I would be happy to help" Steve chuckled but squeezed your hand back, comforted by the thought he would always have you when no one in his life had ever been constant. Slowly the song switched over to Sparks Fly and you had forgotten about your hand in Steve's, a part of you wanting to keep it there forever.

Close enough to touch

Close enough to hope you couldn't see

What I was thinking of

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

As you listened to the lyrics you suddenly became aware of your hold on him, nerves tingly through your body. You were terrfied he could feel it, the love you had for him, pouring out and covering his skin. He was so warm, perfect, and you'd never risk losing him because of some stupid feelings you had. Your whole life you longed for him while he dated everyone in Hawkins but you. That wouldn’t change now, especially in his car listening to some love sick Taylor Swift song. "This one is better than the last"

"Keep listening" you told him with a grin, slipping your hand out of his own, hopefully not to noticeably. You were afraid with how hot and burning your love for him was you'd sear it on his skin. Steve was always your Steve but he had never really been yours and that would hurt forever. Quickly you distracted yourself with excitement over the next song, turning to Steve.

"This is Back to December, her only apology song ever to her ex boyfriend. She broke his heart and wrote this. They’re really good friends now but it's still so sad to hear the feelings she went through at the time" you informed him, hand reaching to turn it up more. Steve chuckled and turned to you with confused eyes.

"This is public knowledge?" he curiously asked and you nodded feverishly, excitement of finally getting to share these facts with your bestfriend.

"Oh my gosh yes, I've been reading this stuff in magazine itnerviews for years and all of her boyfriends have been out there for the media to see. She also hides hidden clues everywhere for us to figure stuff out. She puts so much into her work, it’s not just songs. Now listen!" you told him, shaking his arm before turning to the road again.

So this is me swallowin' my pride

Standin' in front of you sayin' I'm sorry for that night

And I go back to December all the time

It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you

Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine

I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright

I go back to December all the time

"Woah" Steve uttered, the passion behind the lyrics shocking. Steve's breakup with Nancy was the worst heart break of his life. He had never dared getting close enough to a girl since. He knew they both had faults for their break up but he knew if he heard Nancy singing these words back to him he knew a part of him would be comforted, it would fully heal that wound, and he would be able to move on and grow again.

"Amazing" you hummed back, closing your eyes and getting lost in the music again. You and Steve had listened through the rest of the album quietly, him only reacting to parts of the songs where needed. Dear John had left him in shock which only caused you to giggle and urge him to keep listening. Just before you had pulled into your destination, Better Than Revenge came on which had been Steve's favorite. He practically gasped when he heard the lyrics 'She's an actress, she's better known for the things that she does on the mattress, whoa'. You laughed at his reaction, heart warming over the fact he was starting to like Taylor Swift and understanding why you loved her music so much. For the first time the entire trip he seemed happy to have come all this way for a music store.

Steve admired the way your hair swept over your shoulders in excitmenet as you turned your head, searching the building for the latest album. His heart stuttered the minute your eyes widened, them sparkling as you spotted a designated table for the new album. You wasted no time scooping up both the casette and record, clearly needing both, and not feeling guilty at all about spending your tip money on it. Who needed a car, right? Steve realized right then and there that even if Taylor Swift was a shit singer he would’ve loved her for you, because you made everything better, including him. God he loved you and he wished he could tell you, but losing you wasn't an otpion. If things got weird he would never ever forgive himself.

"Should I get a new Foreigner tape while I'm here?" he teased and you rolled your eyes, gripping his arm as you moved to the counter to pay. Steve loved how kind you were to the cashier who clearly was very uninterested in his job. For a moment Steve wondered if this is what he looked like at Family Video.

"Please save me from you ruining Foreigner forever because you overplay them. I still like their music so we need to find you something new" You told him as you gave a soft pat to his chest to which he just shook his head and you grabbed your bag from the cashier. Both of you started to the the car and you were barely sitting before you were ripping the plastic off the casette. Steve watched as you carefully removed your tape before putting in the new one, placing it securely in the case, clearly taking care of your things because you appreciated them.

"I'm on the edge of my seat here" Steve teased and you lightly punched his arm, adjusting your postion in your seat.

"Silence Steve, the whole ride home" you told him with a poitned finger and he held his hands up in surrender as he pushed the car into drive and took back off in the direction of home. You pressed play and Mine filled the speakers again but this time you sat quietly, not singing along, because you wanted to hear it all. Steve wished he could kiss you for that.

Steve had kept his world, stayed silent the entirety of the ride so you could appreciate your new album which he had actually been enjoying too. Taylor Swift was growing on him, a lot. He had found himself accidentally humming along which you had noticed and it instantly made butterflies erupt in your stomach. Who would have thought loving Taylor Swift would look so good on a man? By the time Better Than Revenge came on, the familiar 'Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did' buzzing through the speakers, Steve was trying to sing along, messing up the words here and there.

She's an actress, woah

He was a moth to the flame

She was holding the matches, woah

Your eyes sprung open, looking to Steve with a shocked face as you both began to yell. In disbelief she had changed the lyrics, the most bad ass line of the song, and she had changed it to something so simple. Your hands frantically reached out to pause the tape before turning and looking at Steve with shock. "She did not?"

"She did!" you exclaimed, unsure of what to think about the lyric change. In a sense the original line had been mean but that was what made it so good. You guess Taylor was just growing up, her feelings about an album she made more than ten years ago obviously couldn't still be the same.

"Can I come over and listen to the rest of the album with you?" Steve found himself asking and you blushed profusely before nodding, excited to have someone to share this with finally.

That was how you and Steve found yourselves laying on your bed, listening to the record spin in your room, absorbing each song, and discussing your thoughts after each side of the record was finished. Some songs had brought you to your feet to dance, singing into fake microphones with each other, Steve spinning you so closely to his body you felt like you were on fire. Finally you had reached the tape with the vault tracks which you explained in grave detail to Steve so he could comprehend these were never before heard songs until now. Placing the arm on the record you rushed to the bed, hopping beside Steve as the music began to play, squeezing his hand in excitement.

All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life

Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life

And I want you now, wanna need you forever

In the heat of your electric touch, mmm

You sucked in a sharp breath at the words, hand still in Steve’s hold. This time you didn’t feel like pulling away. You wanted him to feel it, the electric, the invisible string tying you to him. You kept your hand there the whole song, and once it ended you waited, heart pounding in your ears. The suddenly Steve was sitting up, and leaning over you, and you were pretty sure you were gonna pass out.

“You know how you were saying Taylor had found a way to describe what you were feeling and put it into a song?” you nodded, nerve endings on fire as he hovered over you. “This song, is how I feel about you”

“What?” this time Steve was nodding, and you were pretty sure you were dreaming.

“I get it if you don’t feel the same” Steve started to pull back but you grabbed him, making sure he stayed in place.

“Of course I feel the same, God I’ve loved you since middle school” you told him and he chuckled, fingers curling into your own.

“You are the best thing, that’s ever been mine” Steve whispered before leaning down. Your breath hitched but you recovered the moment his lips met yours, slotting together like puzzle pieces. He tasted like cherries and your hand that wasn’t locked in his own found its way to his head, fingers dragging through his hair. It was surreal to be kissed by Steve Harrington on your bed, only a dream until now. Yet here he was, warm body pressed to your own, the electricity sending your nerve endings on fire.

That was when you realized nothing could be better than falling in love with Steve listening to the lyrics of a Taylor Swift song.

a/n: this was short, sweet, and adorable. for a moment I thought I had accidentally deleted it so now I appreciate it even more. in the spirit of coincidences when I chose Foreigner to be Steves choice in band it was totally just the first 80s band to pop in my head and not even an hour after I finished writing this I was invited to go to a Foreigner concert this Friday. absolutely insane. also I went with Speak Now TV for this considering that is what’s popular right now and it felt right for the vibe of the story. I hope you enjoyed it all nonetheless 💜

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crxssjae · 3 months

Text

Chapter One: Anew Revist

Summary:

Jey doesn't know who this "Sami" guy is, as he and Jimmy return to NXT after receiving a request from Hunter.

You can read the other fics from my WWE masterlist here.

"Something About You" is posted on AO3 (here) and Wattpad (here)

Warning(s): 18+, language, it's 5k (or close to 5k idk) words so I had to warn y'all

<- CH.ZERO

__________

"Aight, aight, aight! Y'know what time it is: pick a choice!" Jimmy exclaimed, hands gripped on the steering wheel with a goofy grin.

No matter the travels aboard on the road, their shenanigans never fail. On occasions, the car is in charge along with its revving engine in the background to cut out silence; no exchanges, just peace while tasking their careers weren't new to them.

Three years passed, and on to their fourth year as wrestlers. Life of wrestling can be either a simple rise or a struggle after entering its world; it'll crawl half of the brain firsthand and will refuse to be gone by the end of months. Skilled ones would tell them when they step forward and keep going, it'll be like an endless cycle that'll never break. For the twins, however, theirs were full of balance.

They listened while exchanging jokes— Jey often gets aggravated and nonchalant whether Jimmy mentioned a humorous past he had if they were kids, teens, or a few years back. Despite the never-ending bickering, Jey's spirits are always uplifted with happiness and not isolation, thanks to his brother.

Although he questioned himself before, there's never a simple term why at the end for being bored in the first place.

It's obvious Jimmy tried his hardest not to ruin themselves, so Jey promises he'll be helpful, too. Sort of.

"Here's the catch," Jimmy began. "Which is worse? Gettin' our ass beat each time one of us gets a singles match?"

The twins' expressions mirrored the wince with cringe. One of the worst memories Jey will and will not forget.

"Not every week... but 'kay." he cleared his throat with a chuckle, continuing. "Or 'dat time at my wedding day wit’ Naomi when yo' face got smashed wit' cake 'cause you want s'um strawberries?"

Jey smacked his lips. "You still can't let go 'bout it, huh? I'd rather pick the first one than the second."

Jimmy shook his head, laughing. "At least you got a good taste n' eatin' like it's yo' favorite ice cream."

Jey groaned, earning another laugh from Jimmy. He did not want anyone, especially his brother, to mention the cake situation ever again. "If you don't shut up n’ drive, Uce."

Serene air in the car signaled its atmosphere. His mind wandered into the thoughts now; forty minutes they've been on the road. One of the songs Jimmy chose is playing on the radio, the best way to beat the silence— nevertheless, they still fuss over the best music genre. So far, it went well, unless they weren't acting like little kids. But that's how siblings do.

He was supposed to drive in case Jimmy could have a chance to munch the remaining snacks or snooze; instead, Jey's stomach had other plans for him when it rumbled with hunger. Jey gave up, seated in the passenger's side, chomping some chips and drinking soda, glimpsing at the city he never thought coming back: Winter Park, Florida, where NXT took place.

Its welcome recalled the months and years of September 2011 to October 2012; fans saw Jimmy and Jey as twins who looked alike but couldn't tell apart. No matter the charisma they held, none viewed their tag team potential due to many losses, pushed back in the line like decoys for other duos to receive their opportunity. The unforeseen chances were higher, so Hunter took notice and sent them to the NXT roster for a year and one month.

Through trial and error— from being rookies who received the most unsuccessful opportunities, standing at the back of the line, to a spotlight above them where everyone can gawk and recognize— the beloved Tag Team Champions. Second chances can be remarkable.

Old memories resurfaced, and new memories arose once arriving back to NXT, though the request Hunter gave bothered Jey, so he had to ask.

"Ay, Jimmy," Jey began, lips pursed.

"Yea?" Jimmy responded.

"'Bout Hunter, he said he'd paired us with… wit’ Samuel, right?" Jey questioned, confusion etched across his face.

"Sami, not Samuel," Jimmy corrected, shrugging. "I dunno 'bout him either. All I know is that he beat two opponents in his debut. First was Curt, then was Cesaro."

Jey stared at Jimmy, letting out a huff. "Y’jokin'. There's no way in hell he faced two guys on the same night."

"Not everyone can pull it off. S'um but not everyone. Don't forget, DB did it n' win at WrestleMania with injury."

"But nobody can wrestle two dudes in one night on their debut. Dat's not fair! They'll tire themselves out!"

"Aww, you at least took the time to be worried." Jimmy teased in a fake emphatic tone, grinning like an idiot. "See? I am a good and smart ol' brother! Be proud for once."

Smack the taste out of his mouth would've been another achievement on the list; then again, the scolding from Rikishi's voice was one thing he and Jimmy wanted to avoid.

Another glimpse outside the window of Winter Park, his mind wandered deep, surveying the strangers strolling alongside friends on the cobblestone sidewalk, the cafés, and the opening restaurants. The discussion with Jimmy floated, pushing the peace aside, stuck like glue as his eyes broke contact, narrowing down at his sneakers. Jey hated to admit it— his brother was correct.

In WrestleMania, confronting an opponent in a match while being injured to get a chance to be in the Triple Threat for the main event; after achieving the win in a tired state, having no choice but to face two guys, yet at the end, got the championship and given a standing ovation.

In a debut? That's tough to do. Faced against the first challenger in the opening match and won— while obtaining a second win against another later, without the body being exhausted in one night.

Who would do that for a debut, though? How the hell does Samuel— Sami— manage to keep up?

An upcoming rookie. No matter, he'll meet him soon, put some sense into him, and teach him what and what not to do in the wrestling business.

"Stop thinkin' so much."

Jimmy's voice interrupted his thoughts. Jey rolled his eyes, even if the encouragement was getting him. "Whatever, man," he grumbled.

He steadied when Jimmy sighed, knowing how the response went.

"Look on the bright side," Jimmy said, his tone sincere. "At least we can greet s’um new Superstars n’ not always the many crowded strangers of Sami."

"Can y’stop mentionin' Samuel? Sheesh, man, y’makin' it worse," Jey retorted, didn't bother to correct the man's name.

"Sami, it's Sami. You callin' the name wrong."

"And? Whatchu gon' do?"

Jimmy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Pettiest brother ever."

In which he is.

__________

Jey and Jimmy did not expect crew members and their coworkers to scramble across hallways to rooms like dozens of mice— spotting an area to hide. Compared to 2011, it used to be a small group in a developmental brand— now evolving in a slow, smooth, recognizable process.

Fast-paced greets and conversations, out of breath due to in-ring wins or losses, alongside admirations of wrestlers from those who are fans had a chance to say hello and given advice; reeled in the surprise shoved on the face without blank stares. For a moment, Jey gaped, taking in the changes, then shifting back to his usual mood, keeping things professional.

One year after leaving the NXT roster, fresh faces came from left to right, while some stayed longer due to Hunter's approval. Nothing questioned if locker rooms got bigger. It must've stayed the same, still having decorations for each individual among logo signs.

Meaningless to think, some are keeping the old stuff as a souvenir.

Inside their room, well, compared to the men's main roster, the twins began the usual routine of face paint. Before ending up at Winter Park earlier, both had the final agreement: use green to apply and white as an outline to match their current attire. It will never feel correct if the colors are mismatched.

Tedious could be, Jey managed to get it done. He did the outline on the right side of Jimmy's face, and even though his trembling right hand struck a nerve, he stroked with green without smudging the white. Of course, blaming Jimmy is one hundred percent on the list for not settling down, yet Jey is like him, too. Once he completed the right side, Jey passed the materials to Jimmy, letting him color the left side of Jey's face.

With a couple of deep breaths and small jokes his brother can come up with, Jey's mind eased with peace—

The sound of a creaking door startled the twins. Jey whipped his head, ignoring a strip of white on the nose Jimmy did by accident. Neither thought the reminder to knock before entering.

"We're busy, get out—"

Any words stuck in his throat after uttering, brows rose in surprise at the presence of the man, whose hazel eyes glinted in welcome like a golden retriever vowing to introduce himself. Who is he? A rookie? Why does he have no manners?

His ginger hair was scuffled with a towel encircling his neck, exposing bits of hair on the slightly above-average physique; wrists wrapped in white tape— and red-black elbow pads, arranged to get in the ring, double-checked to straighten the tights. What a sight to behold, Jey would say.

He doesn't understand. Why did he keep a smile on his face? No smugness, all of it is dotted with kindness and shyness like he regretted barging in without speaking.

How stupid would it be if Jey yelled to leave?

Embarrassment. That's what he thought.

"Sorry," he spoke, fiddling his thumbs. "If you're busy, I... I can leave and wait."

Jimmy grinned, first to interact. "Don't be. It's all good." His voice raised before the man could close the door, seeing him look back. "Yo’ name's Sami Zayn, right?"

"Um, yeah." Known to be Sami, nodding in response. "That's me."

Jey stared in disbelief. "Yea, right, you're not Samuel."

"Sami, not Samuel." Jimmy forced himself to correct the name, much to worsen.

"... Sami," Jey grumbled through gritted teeth with a forced smile. He does his best not to snap at his brother in front of him. "Can you please knock next time without being—" He paused, searching for the right words, and responded, "Rude?"

"Sorry. I won't do it again," Sami answered, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out a soft giggle. "So you guys are the Usos?"

"Yup!" the twins responded in unison.

"Jimmy with the right paint, and Jey with the left paint?"

To Jey's astonishment, Sami got a sharp eye.

No matter who either fans, crews, coworkers, or a boss like Hunter— almost all call out the wrong brother's name with or without face paint. Jey would've guessed Sami had experience with twin brothers, sisters, or siblings. He has to give him credit.

As for Jimmy, he had a wide smile. His face would be hurting the next day if stretched too wide.

Here we go, Jey rolled his eyes, unamused.

"Thank god!" Sami sighed in relief. "I was worried one of you would say I'm delusional. There are a couple of people I've met who look alike and get names wrong—"

"Hold on, pause, take a breather," Jimmy interrupted, and Sami's lips sealed tight. "No need to get overwhelmed, my dawg. Y’good, we don't bite at all."

Yet.

What a chatterbox. Jimmy had the urge to call Sami "his dawg" straight away. It'll take forever for Jey to get into trust like his brother did. Hard to explain; he didn't have to be swooned by the person flashing a bright smile he had never known in his life, then become great buddies the next day without the intention of wanting to be friends.

All fixated on the time, the questions can be asked later. Jey tapped Jimmy's shoulder twice to bring his attention.

"Tell Hunter we'll be there," Jimmy told Sami.

"I will, and nice to meet you both," Sami responded and turned his heel before closing the door behind him. Jey knew from the tone he was eager to be paired.

Ten minutes closed in, the preparation needed to be quick.

Jimmy managed to wipe the white mark off Jey's nose with a thumb. He refocused on painting Jey's face while noting the conversation earlier. "Why can't y’just be nice, Uce?"

"I dunno. Why y’call him 'my dawg' when we only know a lil' 'bout him?" Jey mimicked Jimmy's friendly voice, receiving a glare from his brother, but he couldn't care less.

"'Cause he's nice! What y’want me to do, be grumpy n’ sayin' get off my ass? Y’wanna be rude 'cause y’couldn't get his name right."

"Nuh-uh, don't start dat comparin'. I'm— I'm tryna learn."

"Sure, sure, correctin' yourself is not workin'," Jimmy mocked.

"Y'did the same wit' Pops, too, so you can't deny."

Jimmy couldn't help smacking his lips. He finished the outline, taking the green paint to color the rest. "Glad I ain't a hothead like you."

"Says someone who yelled timeout for five minutes n’ sayin' they cheatin' for two."

Embarrassment crept Jimmy on the trail. Lips curled into a sly smirk as Jey watched him squirm and shake his head in denial.

"Be quiet n’ lemme finish," Jimmy grumbled.

Jey snickered. His mind wandered back to Sami; a misunderstanding earlier, or so thought, except Jimmy. What an odd, odd wrestler.

He can ask later if there's a chance. Until then— everything is pushed aside. Disappointment is not on his agenda; prestige is.

__________

NXT Tag Team Champions, The Ascension: Konnor and Viktor. Their duo efforts are no joke to others who overlooked them.

A year and six months. Their respect was earned, putting in lots of hard work and doing their best to beat the duo during the tag match. It's unfortunate, left a bite in the dust after the Ascension won at the end. Punctured a gnaw as a mistake of failure for the twins. Though lessons go over throughout their years as a tag team.

Konnor and Viktor are sincere people, so is another man grouped along. Jey's brows knitted with wonder. What's his name again?

His eyes lit up: Corey Graves, the Savior of Misbehavior.

Isn't his gimmick name? Does it mean to protect the misbehave or cause the misbehave? Why does a gimmick grind Jey's gears into confusion?

Corey is a couple of new guys Jey and Jimmy met. Had a short decent chat earlier, and he isn't bad at all, just a good person. A man like him can leave a scar to become the future champion with a cold-hearted gimmick like that; no pun intended.

Christcontrol blared from the speakers outside the arena after the producers played the theme. Boos rippled across the crowd outside, voicing out their hate for villains as usual. Jey felt his shoulder brushed against Corey's, eying at him with an impressed look. The surge of the gimmick came alive once Corey exited the gorilla position and entered through the curtains— his smug smirk danced between his lips.

Jimmy leaned against Jey. "He has potential." His voice lowered in a whisper. "One look, he gets into it."

One look. It felt like two or many looks of skill. For charisma, Jey is unsure since he met Corey a few minutes ago.

Rebellion rang in. Konnor and Viktor strolled past Jey and Jimmy, gripping the NXT Tag Team Championships. Four of them exchanged nods as the twins watched their coworkers head out. The intimidation never wore off the Ascension. Dominance revealed in front of coworkers and the fans' gaze.

This theme is unrecognizable to Jey when Lower the Boom chimed. A firm pat on the shoulder caught attention and he glanced at Sami, who nodded to him, then Jimmy. Luck is needed now, but for Jey, can it be good to trust that man?

For the audience's reaction— it seemed so from the cheers.

Sami let his lips spread a wide smile like everything was positive. "See you in the ring, champion."

With one thumb up, he went out there in front of dozens of fans, itching to see him in action.

Jey froze, taken aback at being called "champion". He doesn't get it. What is this man trying to do? Taunt him? Throw him off the bus?

Was it praise? Champion. But Sami never said tag team champion, only champion in one word. Only to him.

Sami must've said the same to Jimmy. Jey doesn't know. His mind spiraled in bits of confusion.

"Don't lose focus, Uce." Jimmy's snickering snapped Jey out of his thoughts. One half of the Tag Team Championship belt already encircled Jimmy's waist. He patted Jey's shoulder. "C'mon, get on cue."

Jey wanted to tell Jimmy and shout at his face that it was none of his business, though the producers signaled they were next to go on. He'll worry later as he adjusted the belt and followed him.

__________

The Usos' theme, So Close Now, became familiar. Two years in a row. Fans caught up along the dance and pyro, except it's not used as of today, the arena is moderate. The passion behind each person in the audience never burned off. Their roaring cheers rippled the muteless air.

Commentators would show excitement for live TV and the energy of the announcer in both.

The twins strolled from the entrance ramp to Sami as soon as possible. High-fived; Jimmy exchanged a smile, and scurried ahead while Jey, being bouncy, left behind, glancing over at Sami. Words exchanged, unheard over the crowds' wooing, the corner of his mouth quirked a smile told all.

Took a quick second as Sami whipped his head in Jey's direction. Determination wisped in his dilated pupils with no surge of uneasiness. "Let's go." he mouthed to Jey.

Brows furrowed, Jey lacked reading lips, though nodded in response rather than asking now. He followed Sami without further excuses.

The trio has gone into the ring, and their presence is known. So Close Now faded, voices of cheering fans expressed. The referee double-checked each man in while the twins handed their tag team belts to the staff from the ringside for safety. Six men stared down for only a few seconds; Jey, Sami, Corey, and Konnor went on the apron. Jimmy and Viktor are first.

The match began once the bell rang. Spark of tiny hope yet doubt in his heart Jey wouldn't botch the whole thing. Hope neither of them mess up.

Viktor, out of the blue, lunged. Jimmy caught on without effort. Smooth evaded to the side, a focused gaze at Viktor's tensed body and huffed in his nostrils like a bull. Both readied their next move and darted. Hooked in a grapple struggle— Viktor locked Jimmy in a rest hold. Not tight, made sure a breath of air was needed. Other seconds came and released the hold. Viktor ran the ropes and bumped Jimmy with his shoulder to the mat with a thud.

No joke. Skills were swift, chemistry well and strong. Jey can tell; this agitated the fire. Mystified why is fascinating to learn.

Running the ropes again. Viktor increased speed, unknown that Jimmy caught up; a chop to the chest slowed the time. Jey's praises caught Jimmy's attention, looking over his shoulder with a confident grin.

Jey gave a careful eye on Corey. Tagged in, slithered into the ring for Viktor to back out. The killer stare sent shivers down Jey's spine, acting as "the Savior of Misbehavior" character quite well.

"Tag me!" Sami leaned in, esteem oozing in his tone, yanked the white rope from the turnbuckle pad. His hand reached out to Jimmy. "Tag me in! Come on!"

Unable to hold back a smirk, entertainment danced in Jey's heart. He'll give this man credit.

Not bad, Samuel. Not bad.

Tag made with Sami after Jimmy tagged out. "Olé" chants were vocal, unavoidable to make it known. Bit of a stare down, Sami pranced with Corey, circling the ring. Ache for an attack, his fingers flexed, calculating Corey's next move; not long for Corey paced back to the corner where the Ascension was, tagging out with Konnor. A slow eye roll Sami did. Disappointed, yet unsurprised.

Jey snorted at Sami's reaction.

Slow, cautious step in from Konnor, glared down at Sami, four times tall. The struggle didn't drawl for either of them. Konnor's foot booted him in the abdomen and hammered his fist into Sami's back, forcing him to be unbalanced. An elicited grunt from Sami, being shoved to the corner. He stumbled away while composing him, unaware Corey tagged back in, much to Konnor's dismay.

Perfect. Sami glimpsed up and dove towards him. Flurries of fists were unloaded, wild. Pounce after pounce while Corey scrambled for escape. Jey knew the task Sami had in mind: get his hands on Corey Graves. Managed to shuffle against those fists, Corey tagged Viktor.

Fewer seconds pass in an expedition. Double team from Sami to Jey, Jimmy to Jey, all in a cycle tag team technique. This isn't bad. Their teamwork became likable, how it steadied so far. Better yet the sudden teamwork between him, his brother, and of course, Sami.

Still, he isn't giving in to the "trick".

I know what I'm doin’. I know what I'm doin’.

He doesn't.

Sami tagged him, there's victory coming forward. Yet Viktor's malicious clothesline broke Jey's attempt to further offense onto the floor, flattened. His luck lessened. Mussitation of curse words sputtered to himself, strained grunts, the dizziness emerged back and forth; Jey shook it off.

Stay awake, keep resolute.

Backgrounds into muffles. His vision clouded, the figures of Sami and Jimmy blurry. Hand stretched, doing his goddamn best to tag either of them. Only to be slipped away, being hoisted in the arms of Viktor before being carried into the corner.

Another tag is made. Jey blinked, shut his eyes, then opened, glancing at who Viktor tagged: Konnor.

Beatdown. Powerslam. His arm was hovering off distance, reaching them.

"C'mon, Uce! C'mon, Uce!" The shouting voice of Jimmy is inaudible.

Jey's heart pumped ear to ear while quickened in his chest, stumbled back to his feet. Gaze fixated on Jimmy, on Sami. Their mouths are moving, now a blur. Konnor clotheslined him to the top rope onto outside the ring.

Seconds to lengthy minutes. Viktor's boot dug into Jey's chest for four seconds. Withered in agony, Jey was still on the task of tagging either Jimmy or Sami. Mind the tag, never the match. Viktor must've switched with Konnor, so another beatdown was received again.

A scoff escaped his lips. Jey got a favor in return and swung a slap at Konnor to the face. Another slap didn't affect the chance, Konnor swung him down. Jey's mane gripped hard through Konnor's fingers, scalp burning in anguish, wincing before a punch to the side of his head. His body being pressed against Konnor's and held for the pin.

"One! Two!"

Kickout. Good.

Now hooked in a rest hold, Jey inhaled a couple of times, gnashed his teeth, fingertips marked on Konnor's arms. Thought of a plan, a light bulb clicked an idea though risky. His feet staggered around to stand, elbowed to the stomach. This didn't give anything he had due to Konnor being unfazed, being thrashed to the mat.

Jey Uso the punching bag. Ridiculous. He tried not to become one throughout this match. Jimmy's words. Sami's chants. Fans clapping for encouragement. Not yet, not yet he won't.

Corey's turn. Again, Jey is unsurprised.

Stomp, after stomp, after stomp. Another beating, Corey pushed him down onto his back to a second pin. The referee slid for the count after communicating with the other men to stay in the apron.

"One! Two!"

Second kickout. Hard to tell if it's a miracle.

Rest hold again. Broke free with ease, Corey shifted into a headlock, both onto their stomachs. One arm of Jey scrambled, hand clenching, unclenching, not to tap out too soon. It's obvious he didn't pass out while coming up with a strategy. Rolled to his back, shoulders down.

"One!" The referee banged the mat, keeping a watchful eye on the pin. "Two!"

Third kickout. Corey never released the headlock, though.

"Come on, Jey! You got this!" Sami yelled with motivation, at the same time distress filled his tone. Tapped the apron, alongside Jimmy who shouted in sync.

No I don't, man!

Liar.

Twisted his body, enough for his knees on the mat, glance hardened at Jimmy. Outreached, fingers wiggling— a little more— a little more inches. One fist to the spine from Corey halted Jey and earned an erupted, helpless yelp. A lost chance for the hot tag, given the advantage for Corey tagged out, Viktor tagged in. Immediate stomps, further beat-ups.

Plenty of stamina left in the tank. He fought back.

Harsh chop to the chest, Viktor returned one. Jey did the same. The whole short trading chops fest will be left with marks by the time they finish. Seeing stars, his vision blurred in.

All those moves Viktor gave turn inside out, his body boneless, slumped, close to rolling out the ring. Didn't give a chance as Viktor tugged his arm, dragging him with ease like a corpse, going for the pin.

"One!"

It shot Jimmy's anxiety and pressure on the roof. "Get up, get up!"

"Two!"

Kickout again. Would've been two in a half, but Jey couldn't care less. Thank Jimmy.

Viktor locked Jey's head, tighter around the neck, unable to breathe through the throat pipe. Exchanged words in a low voice, given the next move. Jey squirmed, clawed, kicked, anything to evade the headlock like the other two.

Claps. Jimmy's voice of encouragement. Sami's words. Helpful for him to change the game, this match.

A couple of punches to the belly, able to break free. Jey lifted Viktor into a backdrop. God, it's good for him. He can tag either of them, it'll be a breeze.

Lost opportunity again. Came out of nowhere, Konnor grabbed him by the hair and shoved him. A single realization never perked his expression, Jey took the chance to run the ropes, pulling a schoolboy pin on him, shoulders down.

One. Two. Kickout.

His brain circulated. Without thought, he scrambled at the same time along Konnor— a quick slap right to the temple, stunning him. Slouch on the mat trembled, Jey focused on Jimmy and Sami motioning to approach the noise. Konnor stood in ease. With a grunt, tried to manhandle and stop him from tagging. Jey didn't let up, throwing Konnor across the top rope, even if his strength was less than his.

Glimpsed over at Jimmy, then Sami— or Samuel— he can make it.

Go to the noise. Go to 'em, c'mon.

Beaten for seven or ten minutes. Somehow survived, somehow pulled it off. He needed a tag from either of them. A slow crawl to his brother, his partner. Give himself some rest a bit and let those two take over.

All of a sudden, a grasp on his ankle. Whipping his head, Konnor tried to prevent it again. But Jey is quick to think, nudged him using his feet, and goes back to crawling. Absorbed into tagging, unaware Viktor leaped over and struck Sami, then tried to attack Jimmy.

Jey looked up, wide-eyed. An opening in front of him, Jimmy avoided Viktor's hit. Snuck and crawl between the legs, he smacked Jimmy's hand— a hot tag was made, left the ring with a roll.

Successful yet pure exhaustion.

Chest heaving, sharp breath, back on the floor. Looked over to the staff who gave a signal if he was okay, and Jey gestured a thumb up. Flipped himself onto his stomach, his gaze caught into Sami's. Is he telepathic to him if he's okay? Doesn't look like Sami's expression full of agony, seemed fine.

He understood his stare though didn't. Time is little and it is despised to wait between questions on what happened. The only evidence Jey saw was the burn of passion in Sami's pupils. Credit earned for him pulling off like a cat earlier. He should've teased him.

Took one blink of Sami rushing over to the apron, tagging in with Jimmy. Where the hell did he receive all this fuel from?

Set eyes on the chemistry between Sami and Jimmy choreographed. Twenty minutes early, they're strangers now buddies all because his brother called someone his dawg. Bought into awe, and seemed to have a decision on whether or not to connect with the rookie. Will talk to them later; finishing comes first.

Jey arose and went to the ring steel steps. Make silent eye contact with Sami, both clasped their hands, tag has been made.

Viewing Sami and Jimmy's chemistry one more time, lips quirked up a soft smile, excitement bloomed within his chest. He climbed to the top rope, steadied as he locked on. Inhale, exhale. Leaped, executed an Uso Splash, his body slammed onto Corey, going for the pinfall.

One. Two. Three.

Bell chiming. The match is over.

So Close Now replayed for the second time on the speakers aboard with the fans' pop for the Usos and Sami's victory. Jey soaked in the noises, leaning against the ropes, mumbling a cuss word that the referee was unable to hear. Hair damped with sweat beading over his skin, face paint fainted a tad.

Felt a metal tap on the shoulder, Jey drifted to his one half of the Tag Team Championships, lifting his head; Jimmy's triumph grin holding the belts and Sami's blithe expression. The fact suspicions about Sami made a second choice.

Stood tall with the help from Jimmy, handed with the championship, he wondered a question: should he hug him?

His twin embraced Sami without hesitation. Thanking, giving compliments while exchanging smiles. Come to think of it, Hunter would be disappointed if Jey never did, so he had to for the sake of feeling his wrath.

Fuck it, I guess.

He joined in the fray and embraced, patting Sami's back. Normal, still normal, fine. A pair of lips grazed against Jey's ear, causing an eyebrow raise.

"You did a great job. Thank you."

Astonishment overtook his face.

Those words are going to be a full-on field day from now on.

__________

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dinsdjrn · 1 year

Text

everything i wanted | j. miller | track three

track two | track four || series masterlist | main masterlist

bodyguard!joel AU

au!joel x singer!f!reader

summary: oh you kissed me, just to kiss me, not to take me home. it was simple, it was sweetness, it was good to know. someone to kiss you was easy, someone to love you was complicated. [w.c: 4.1k]

tags for the chapter: please see series masterlist for series warnings. 18+, smut, anxiety, secret relationship, scars, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, dirty talking, praising, lmk if i missed things

a/n: for my love @thetriumphantpanda who listens to me ramble when i worry no one else will want to hear it. thank you ❤️ i'm really proud of this one... i hope you love it too.

track three - we'll never have sex

The next few weeks you found yourself completely lost in Joel. You questioned his motivations and considered your own. The days he was working he would steal a kiss when no one was looking or involve you in a heated make-out session once safe from prying eyes. It never went any further though, he was content just kissing you. You never really talked about what this meant for you either, perhaps you were both scared the glass wall would break.

You won’t lie saying you didn’t think about Joel when you were alone at night, how you would take care of one another, but he was a breath of fresh air. You had had your fair share of lovers; most of which would sweet talk you until they had their way with you, then leave you in the dust. Joel was different though, he didn’t rush things.

You knew when he kissed you he needed it as much as you did. It wasn’t a ploy to get you underneath him, it was more than just a kiss, it was a promise.

You had taken a small break from recording when another note appeared at your recording studio this time. Its arrival just days after Joel informed you that they were worried it was a once off threat. This note reignited the search for this crazed fan.

You still hadn't told anyone about the unknown number messages coming through. You hadn't had one come in since the first night you kissed Joel. You prodded him to see what the note had said that arrived at the studio, but he wouldn't budge. It was frustrating not knowing, when the texts had been almost daily for three weeks and now you were met with radio silence. It set you on edge.

You needed this break from recording desperately.

You had spent the time writing mostly, a piece for Joel you wanted to be just right. When you were writing, you had connected with friends, and had even spent an evening with Joel and Ellie. It was just a once off, you had asked Joel if she would be interested in a movie night with you. You felt guilty taking so much of his time away from her. Joel was hesitant but agreed in the end, it ended up being one of the best nights you’ve had in a long time.

Today was your first day back in the studio since the note. You had a few things you wanted to work on before the day was through. Will and Joel were going to be switching off at lunch today and you knew you wanted Joel to be the first to hear what you had written on your ‘break’ so to speak.

You spent the morning mixing and producing the two songs that had been accepted by the label. They were turning out really well and had the exact vibe you were going for, it was melancholy but still truthful to your lived experience.

Your honesty was the reason your fans connected with you. People frequently shared their deep connection to your music and it was what kept you going.

You sat and listened to the songs on repeat to make sure they were exactly as you wanted them. When you got into this headspace you could feel mothers glaring looks and indifference, trying to dissect the song for how she would see it. Find all the weaknesses and improve them. Everyone else had gone to lunch, Will had gone to switch with Joel and you were sitting there obsessing over every detail.

When Joel came into the room it took your breath away. You hadn’t realized how much he calmed you down until he was standing in the room with you. He made you feel as if both your feet were firmly planted on the earth and your mind slowed down.

He was in a black t-shirt and jeans, as he always was but the way it hugged his form made him look so dangerous. Just looking at him you felt the heat between your legs begin to pool and your blood pressure increase in the best way.

“How are you doin’ today babe?” He asked innocently, just you and him in the room.

“Mm, better now that you’re here,” you smiled.

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow at you, smirking. You melted again.

He quickly came over to you leaving a chaste kiss on your lips before retreating to the back wall. It was risky to kiss you here, but you were both desperate to feel one another again.

Your producer returned shortly after your secret reunion with Joel.

“So, how do we feel about solidifying another track today?” He asked, smiling at you.

“I think I have something for you,” You smiled.

“Great!” He clapped. “Do you have instrumentals you want to record first? Or would you rather workshop it and see what happens?”

Time away was good for both of you as a team. You hadn’t realized how frustrated he was with everything until you had come back today. He seemed in better spirits than he had in weeks.

“I actually think I might have a one take for you my friend,” you smiled. You reached for your guitar and made your way into the booth.

“Okay, take one, let’s hear it,” Your producer's voice came through the speaker.

You slowly began strumming the guitar.

“Depollute me, pretty baby,” You started to sing.

Joel was leaning against the back wall, but shifted as you continued to sing the song. He was looking directly at you and rubbing his chin, so desperately wanting to pick your brain for understanding. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to for hours.

You came to the last line of the song, looking past your producer directly at Joel. The tension between you was thick and palpable, but secretive all the same.

“Come and kiss me, pretty baby, like we’ll never have sex.” You finished.

You put the guitar down on the stand and removed your headset.

“Perfect! Just absolutely perfect,” your producer's voice rang from above you.

You exited the booth to discuss the song further and do a bit of mixing to level the sound, but the one take was all you needed.

One take and the undisclosed muse to get the perfect cut.

It was getting quite late by the time you had left the studio, the car ride back to your apartment was quiet between you and Joel. This wasn’t uncharacteristic for you, except he had a grip on his knee that was rather impressive. You swore his knuckles had started to go white.

When you arrived home, you were finally left to be alone with Joel. Something was off with him though, he was still so quiet. His eyes were trained on you as you rummaged through the kitchen for something to eat. You shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do in this situation. You felt as if Joel was mad at you but you didn’t know how to bring it up to him really.

“So,” you started.

He grunted in response.

“Did you like the song?” You asked innocently.

You were met with more silence from him. Anxiety festered in the pit of your stomach, you wanted him to like the song but this reaction spoke otherwise.

“You can tell me if you didn’t like it. I won’t be hurt, I’ll understand, Joel,” you began to ramble defensively at his silence.

He shushed you.

“It’s not that I didn’t like the song. I loved it,” He started softly.

“It’s just,” his eyes darkened. Your heart rate picked up and he continued. The air becoming thick and heavy with his words.

“You just wrote me a song asking me to kiss you,” he started slowly walking toward you. His eyes were dark with lust and his large frame made you feel incredibly small.

“A song asking me to kiss you, like I’ll never go any further,” he was in front of you now.

His soft brown eyes bore into yours, your back was pressed into the counter, hands gripping it waiting to see what he does next.

“Like I don’t want to take you upstairs and hear you scream my name,” he whispered in your ear.

“Joel,” you breathed, a familiar warm tightness in your stomach ripening.

“A song asking me not to fuck you as if I haven’t been dreaming of the day you’d let me in,” he kissed a spot on your jaw behind your ear.

You inhaled sharply, “Please.”

With that every ounce of restraint you had for another evaporated into the night. Joel’s hands found their way to your hips and yours to his neck. He kissed you like he had never kissed you before, this kiss was hungry. His grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you into him, grinding himself into you. A soft gasp escaped you and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue danced with yours as your hands began to explore his chest and back.

You began to untuck his shirt and he pulled back from you. You were left confused and a bit dumbfounded at his sudden retreat.

“Do you want to stop?” you asked gently, pulling back from him.

“God no, you ju- shit, you need to know something,” He sighed. “No one’s seen me in a long time. There’s some things that I can’t talk about,”

“Joel, it’s okay. Just tell me what you need,” You offered him a small smile.

He grabbed the back of his shirt and slowly pulled it off over his head. You sucked in a breath as you began to take him in.

The way his muscles flexed as he breathed heavily, the softness of his stomach that you knew was still strong. The way a trail of hair dipped from his belly button into his jeans making your gulp and your mouth run dry. And the scars. He had scars strewn across his chest, some smaller than others.

You didn’t react, you didn’t want to gasp and fuss over him. It felt like he was bearing a part of his soul to you, something no one else knew and so you didn’t want to make a spectacle out of him.

You stepped toward him, placing a hand on his chest.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” You whispered, unsure of yourself.

You slowly began to kiss and nip at his neck, your hands running down his abdomen. He groaned in response, you brought your lips to his chest and began kissing and nipping all over it. He brought his hand to your face and pulled you back to meet his gaze.

“Thank you,” he said, kissing you softly.

“Of course,” You brought your hands down his chest one more time and pressed against the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Now I believe you promised to take me upstairs,” You said and his eyes darkened. “And I’ve heard you’re a man of your word.”

With that you grabbed him by the wrist guiding him to your room on the upper level of the apartment.

As soon as you entered your bedroom he pulled your wrist turning you around to meet him. He wrapped a strong arm around your waist and his other hand pressed against your cheek. He was kissing you again, feverish and needy. This was different from any other kiss you had shared; it was lustful and electric.

His fingers dug into your hip as he deepened the kiss eliciting a moan from you.

He pulled away tugging at your shirt removing it exposing your chest to him. His eyes gave you a once over and he brought his hand to your breast massaging it. You sighed at the feeling.

“Good lord, you have no idea what you do to me,” He groaned.

He brought you to the edge of your bed, the tension almost painfully thick in the air. Joel sank to his knees in front of you. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants and panties, bringing them down together in one swift motion not wanting to waste any time. He pushed you to seat yourself on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs for him, showing him how needy and ready you were. He groaned at the sight of your glistening pussy, knowing he was the cause of your undoing.

He grabbed the outside of your thighs, his hands exploring your body as his lips kissed and sucked the insides of your thighs drawing closer and closer to where you so desperately needed to be touched.

“Fuck, darlin’ all this for me?” He teased, kissing the most inner corner of your thigh.

You hummed, “If you ask nicely.”

His eyes looked up to meet yours. You tangled your hands in the soft curls that drove you crazy and massaged his scalp gently with your nails. He leaned into your touch as his eyes softened, pleading you.

“Baby, please?” He said breathlessly.

“Yes, Joel. I need y-, Oh,” You gasped as his mouth surrounded the soft bundle of nerves that ached for his touch.

He had completely infiltrated your senses, the way he sucked on your clit. With every bit of suction he pulled whines and moans from your lips. He hummed against your core. He gripped your thighs tighter, you hoped there would be soft marks in lieu of his hands when you woke. His tongue moved to penetrate your pussy; lapping your taste like you were the freshest summer peach and he didn’t want to waste a single drop of sweetness.

The familiar tight burning pleasure pooled at the pit of your stomach as his tongue dragged back to your clit, the pressure and pace sending you toward the edge. You squirmed under his touch and your hands gripped his hair tightly, drawing him closer to you as his tongue worked your core. Your soft moans and gasps filled the room.

Your pussy began to flutter as you pushed over the edge, you moaned Joel’s name. Your orgasm washed over you, your walls clenched and pussy fluttered at the feeling.

“That’s it, good girl.” Joel hummed against you, kissing your pussy one final time. He stood slowly, your hands fell from his head and you felt small sitting in front of him like this.

He brought himself down to kiss you, you could taste yourself on his lips and it drove you even more wild. You wanted to take care of him and make him feel good.

You took it upon yourself to unbutton his jeans and work his pants down. He stepped out of the jeans and you could see the large straining bulge in his briefs. You pressed you hand to his cock through his underwear and he groaned. He was long and full, your desire for him only grew, desperate to have him inside you.

“Mm, Joel, I think I want to fuck you now,” You hummed, standing in front of his dragging your hands up past his bulge and across his abdomen.

“Fuck yes,” he whispered cupping your cheek and kissing you again.

You pulled his underwear down and his cock sprang to attention, you pushed him down toward the bed and he laid himself down in the middle.

You straddled his hips, nothing in between you anymore, so you rocked your hips into him. You moaned in unison at the feeling.

“Don’t tease me darlin’. I am not a patient man.” He nearly growled and smacked your ass.

“Yes sir.”

You complied by aligning him at your entrance before slowly sinking onto him. His face contorted in pleasure, your gasped, mouth agape at the feeling of him stretching you open. You brought your lips to meet his in another kiss while you adjusted to his size.

“M’gonna take care of you,” you mumbled into him, slowly beginning to rock your hips.

“Ride me, baby. Gonna take such good care of me,” He praised, his hands gripping your hips.

He guided your hips as you began to bounce on his cock. It didn’t take long before you both were stringing curses and moans as he repeatedly filled you to the hilt, hitting your most pleasurable pressure point deep within you. His thrusts slowly began to meet yours and pressure began to build in your core once again, you began to quickly chase your high. Your hips rocking his as your thrusts met one another, his hands guiding your hips at a pace that brought you both quickly to the edge.

Your orgasm came washing over you before you knew it, your movements slowing as you cried Joels name, pussy fluttering around his cock that filled you so wonderfully. You would be sure to make a pattern out of fucking Joel; you had never felt this intense pleasure with anyone and you knew this was a high you’d chase again.

“Good job, baby. Making yourself come on my cock. So fucking perfect,” He praised as he picked up his pace again.

You collapsed on his chest kissing his neck, unable to move from your orgasm that was still washing over you as he fucked into you. His grip on your hips tightened as his hips snapped into you from underneath you. His pacing picked back up to chase his own high. He fucked into you rapidly before his thrusts became a bit more erratic.

“M-Fuck gonna come,” He groaned your name as you slipped off of him.

He came against his stomach and into his hand as you collapsed next to him. Content beyond yourself but completely spent. Just standing in a room with Joel overwhelmed your senses, but the visceral need you felt when he fucked you. It changed your perspective on what sex could be.

When Joel was finished you stood quickly running to the bathroom to get him a damp washcloth. When you walked back to the bed the sight of him laying there cum painting his stomach, dick in his hand was enough to make your pussy flutter again. You helped clean him up before settling into his side, his arm wrapped around you.

“That was,” you started.

“Yeah,” Joel panted.

“I’m clean by the way,” you said awkwardly. It didn’t matter much now as you hadn’t used a condom but for your own peace of mind you brought it up.

“Okay, uh, me too. I haven’t since, well…” He fumbled over his words.

“It’s been a long time for me too, Joel.” You smiled up at him softly stroking patterns into his chest.

“I know it's been a long time, but has it ever felt that,” he paused, looking for the right word, “Perfect?” He asked.

You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him and kissed him gently.

“The best I think I’ll ever have,” you chuckled at him.

He was right though, you had plenty of partners in the past. You always enjoyed sex, but it had never felt like that. You worried that any other sex will have been ruined as it will never mark up to sex with Joel. You opted not to think too much into it as you’re sure you’d be ready to jump Joel in any moment you found yourselves alone for the weeks to come. That thought left your mind spinning, wondering what this meant for the two of you.

“Joel?” You bit your lip.

“Mm,” he hummed, stroking the hair on top of your head.

“Where do we go from here?” You asked pensively.

“I don’t think we need to go anywhere. We can just be safe up here in our own little bubble,” He assured you.

It wasn’t comforting in the way he thought it was. It freaked you out, you had never really done anything that was just for you. Your life was strategically placed pieces that looked like luck of the draw, but it was all perfectly planned to launch you into stardom. Your mind began to worry and wonder about what your team, your mom, the world, would think when word got out. You hadn’t even defined your relationship but knew it would have to end as soon as the press caught whiff of your affair with Joel, your bodyguard.

“I can hear you thinking,” he whispered softly, as if he was worried you would disappear at the thought.

“I’m just sorting this out,” you clammed up again, lost in your own world.

Joel rubbed your back and you sighed, breath uneven, shaky.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on in that mind of yours?” He prodded again.

“It doesn’t matter, Joel.” You snipped.

“It does. Tell me what’s going on. I want to know where you’re at,”

You sighed, thinking about it for a moment. Hoping your vulnerability wouldn’t push him away, you opted to tell him the truth.

“I’m scared, Joel. My whole life has been carefully curated from the moment I showed up in the local paper. Everything I’ve ever done has been a calculated move to advance my career,” you felt tears well in your eyes.

He pulled you into his side tighter, your head resting on his bare chest and your hand gently drawing patterns across the scars that adorned him to calm yourself down. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“It’s okay, baby. This can be just for us,” He said before kissing the top of your head.

“It’s just,” you sighed. “Nothing in my life has ever really been mine, it’s been my mothers or my labels or my publicists, but I’ve never really done anything for me. I’m scared that it’s going to blow up in my face.”

“I know, it’s scary, I wish we had met under different circumstances, but I can’t say I regret anything.” He tilted your head so you could look at him.

“Whatever this is, let it just be for us to figure out. If at any point you want out or you want to go further, you just talk to me. I’ll follow your lead, but for now, let’s just enjoy whatever this is while it’s just ours.”

You sat up to really look at him, find any hint of mistruth behind his words. His eyes softened at your concern, he took this moment to rub your back and kiss the top of your head. Such a small and subtle gesture that held so much promise.

“Okay, you’re right.” Your breath shook, “Just you and me, Joel.”

You brought your hand to brush his fluffy gray curls away from his forehead and rested it against his cheek. He leaned into your touch slightly and you realized how intimate these moments with him were. They were uninterrupted by the lives you lead, and made your heart skip in your chest.

You brought your lips to his in a kiss that was soft and light, hoping it felt like a promise to him the way it did for you. He gripped your waist slightly tighter, not trying to go any further but to ground you here with him.

You were both breathless when you pulled away, this kiss held an intensity neither of you had experienced before.

“I’ll go clean up,” you said, now very aware of your sweat stained skin.

“I’ll join you in a second,” Joel smiled, letting you have a moment to yourself.

You stood and made your way to the bathroom, Joel reached over to the bedside table to grab his phone.

He realized he had grabbed the wrong phone pretty well as soon as the screen lit up and went to put it down immediately, but not before he saw a text come through. One that felt like a blow to the chest.

I'm sorry I got so angry. I’m sad they won’t let me see you, but glad it meant you got my note.

He knew he shouldn’t have read it, but your safety was in jeopardy. He took a breath and heard the toilet flush and shower start. He would find a way to bring it up to you, when the time was right.

His hope was that you would bring it up to him before it came to that.

The warm water over your skin was exactly what you had needed. Your night with Joel was everything you wanted it to be and more, but it was still very emotionally charged.

You heard his steps in the bathroom as the water from the shower ran over you. His warm presence filled the space behind you as he kissed your shoulder and you leaned into him. The full ache between your thighs returning in promise to him.

You were spent from the evening but the way his kisses trailed up you neck and hands held you to him was intoxicating.

For the first time in your life you had felt so grounded and so safe. Joel didn’t expect anything from you, he just wanted to know you through and through. And that was worth fighting for, no matter what.

tags: @darkroastjoel @morning-star-joy @skysmiller @harriedandharassed @canseethebrushstrokes @kyloispunk @skythighs @reader-without-a-story @aryastark-baratheon @ilovepedro @beskarandblasters @tightjeansjavi @cupofjoel @cavillscurls & you know the drill lmk if i missed ya or you'd like the updates xo

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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mrsstruggle · 1 year

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The Lost Child - Chapter 34 // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

Summary: Y/N Stark was taken from her family when she was three years old. It's fifteen years later and her family believes she is dead. Then how is she living in Beacon Hills?

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Steve Rodgers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff, & More To Come

Previous Pairings: Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Scott McCall x Allison Argent

Words: 5.5k

Note: Sorry this is so late!

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Previous Chapter

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Everyone was quiet as they made their way through the woods toward the hunter's safe house. The only sound that could be heard was the crunching of leaves and sticks beneath their feet. Y/N knows it's wrong, but she wishes she was Allison right now so she wouldn't have to deal with everything.

Stiles doesn't like the silence but it's taking everything in him to break it. He's worried that if he starts talking then he won't be able to stop. He's also not sure if he wants to accidentally piss off anyone who's in charge of protecting his life.

As much as he's annoyed at everything that has happened and that has come to light, he also can't help but have a little fanboy moment inside his head. He's about to head into battle with the Avengers. The last time they stormed a place he had been sidelined. Now, he's walking through the woods, about to go into a little war with the hunters, with the Avengers suited up next to him. It's like a dream he always had but also mixed with a nightmare he always had.

He watches Y/N from the back of the group as she and Chris lead them to the safe house. He doesn't like that he's been paired with Liam and Peter, but it could be worse. He could be paired up with Peter Hale. He wouldn’t make it out alive if that were the case.

"Are we almost there?" Peter Hale asks.

"Why? Do you have somewhere better to be?" Scott questions.

"Yes. I was thinking about asking your mother out again."

"Wait, what?" Sam looks between Scott and Peter, confused about what he just heard. How old is this guy and why does it seem like he only hangs out with teenagers? He knows Peter is Derek's uncle, but he also dated one of these kids' mothers?

"Ignore him." Derek rolls his eyes at his uncle. He just wants to get this over with. He's tired of having to deal with the Argents and the Avengers. He wants to go home, wrap Y/N up in a warm blanket, and not leave their bedroom until they have to. This past week has caused him too much stress and he's over it.

Y/N comes to a stop and waits for the others to stand around her, "We'll split up here. Remember, Sam, Bucky, and Malia, you'll take the right side. Kira, Natasha, and Wanda, you'll follow them but then split off to the north side. Scott and Steve, you're going to the left side. Stiles, Liam, and Peter, you'll follow them. You're in charge of killing the Anuk-Ite, so good luck with that."

Chris takes off his backpack before unzipping it and holding it out to everyone, "Everyone take a walkie-talkie. I'm sure these aren't as advanced as some of you are used to, but they'll do. I've already set them to the correct channel but it's channel 7 if you mess it up."

"Radio in if you feel the Anuk-Ite so Stiles and them know where to go. He has the mountain ash to kill it so don't try killing it yourself," Y/N says while everyone grabs a walkie-talkie. "Also, radio if you need help. While we have an idea of what we're up against, there could be more and some of you have never had to fight these types of creatures before. They are very different from your space aliens."

"Anything else?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah, don't die."

"How are you not a motivational speaker?"

"Okay, let's go before they do this for another twenty minutes," Scott says, walking away from the group to the left where Y/N told him to go. Steve presses a quick kiss to Bucky's lips and murmurs something under his breath to him before following Scott.

"Radio in when you're in place!" Y/N yells out to Scott.

The rest of the Avengers watch as Y/N and Stiles lock their pinky fingers and promise each other they won't die. Y/N doesn't know it, but she's done that since before Pepper gave her away. Anytime they'd go on a mission she'd make them promise they were going to come back. She believed that pinky promises were a binding promise and that there was no way you could break them. It's little things like that that let them know that the girl they knew is still there, just a bit different.

"One last thing," Y/N sticks out her hand toward Chris. Chris pulls out a bulletproof vest from his backpack and hands it to Y/N. She quickly pulls it over Stiles' head and straps it around him before he has a chance to protest. "Just in case."

"Why have I never been given one of these before?" Stiles scoffs.

"Just be grateful you're getting one now. Now go."

Chris, Derek, Peter Hale, Tony, and Y/N watch as the others run off to where they're supposed to be.

"What else do you have in that bag?" Derek asks, eyeing the backpack in Chris' hand.

"You don't want to know," Chris zips his backpack up and puts it back on his back.

"We're in place." Scott's voice rings out of their walkie-talkies.

Y/N sighs as she tries to mentally prepare herself for the fight ahead, "I think I could sleep for a week after this. I'm surprised I haven't gotten a call from my boss yet saying I'm fired for being gone for so long. I swear I didn't have this many vacation days."

Derek moves to stand in front of Y/N to meet her eyes, "I'm sure they've seen the news and will understand why you haven't been in for a while. Scott said Melissa was covering for you so I'm sure it's fine."

"I'll have to get her something nice for covering for me this long."

"And she'll tell you that you don't owe her anything." Derek pulls Y/N close and presses a kiss against her forehead. He knows how stressed she is about everything because he's also stressed about everything.

"We're in place." Bucky's voice rings out from the walkie-talkies.

"How do you want us to get into the house?" Y/N turns to Tony at his question. She almost forgot the others were there with her and Derek.

"We need to wait until everyone has lured out as many hunters as possible then we fly in," Y/N says.

"You can fly as well?" Tony's eyebrows shoot up in shock. Did he miss something in the files Hydra made about her? Can werewolves fly?

"No, you'll have to either carry me or I can get on your back."

Tony goes to respond but Kira's voice cuts him off as it rings out through the walkie-talkies, "We're in place."

"Okay," Y/N looks around at Chris, Derek, Peter, and Tony, "you ready?"

Chris tightens the knife holders on his thighs and double-checks the gun in his hand, "Ready."

"Ready," Tony says as his suit builds around him.

"Can we finally get this over with?" Peter asks, inspecting his claws.

"I'm going to climb up into a tree until I think it's time for us to hit the house. You should do the same." Y/N says, looking at Tony. "I'm their biggest target and if they know where I am then they'll forget about the others. We've got to hide a bit first."

"I'll follow you," Tony replies.

Y/N looks back at Derek, "Be safe and kick some hunter ass. I love you."

"I love you too," Derek says before pressing a hard kiss on her lips, as if he's scared he won't see her again.

Y/N pulls away and walks over to the nearest tree, "You know what to do babe!"

Derek, Chris, and Peter watch as Y/N starts to climb up the tree and Tony flies up into the one next to her. Derek waits until he can no longer see her figure before transforming into his beta form.

"Now we can get this over with," Derek says, letting out a loud roar to let everyone know it's time to go and to let the hunters know they're here.

---

Steve tightens the shield around his arm before looking up at the sound of a roar.

"What was that?" Peter asks, looking around making sure nothing is coming at them. He's dealt with a lot of weird things being in the Avengers, but he's never heard something like that before.

"That was Derek," Stiles states.

"You stay here and wait for someone to radio you," Scott tells Stiles, Liam, and Peter.

"Where are you going?" Liam asks.

"We're going straight towards them. Let's go." Scott nods at Steve to follow him.

Steve huffs a bit in frustration as he follows Scott. He doesn't enjoy being told what to do from a teenager. If it was Y/N here, he would follow without question. She might have been gone for 15 years, but he'd still trust her with his life.

Scott slows as he gets closer to the safe house. He can already hear a few hunters loading their guns and sharpening their knives. He listens to their panicked voices as they talk about the roar they heard and how they know they're being attacked. If he focuses hard enough, he can also hear Stiles, Liam, and Peter bickering behind them.

"Let's stop here. We don't want to get too close." Scott says. "We need to lure them out here." Scott tries to count the number of hunters standing outside of the house in front of them.

"I got it," Steve states, throwing his shield out toward the hunters. The shield hits three hunters, knocking them to the ground, before coming back to Steve.

"That's one way to do it," Scott mumbles, watching as the hunters look their way. He quickly ducts behind a tree as the hunters slowly make their way towards them.

Steve ducts behind another tree as they wait for the hunters to come closer. He can hear the ground crunch behind him letting him know where they are. He waits until he can see the end of a gun before jumping out and knocking the hunter back into two others.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

Scott jumps out from where he's hiding as all eyes are on Steve, throwing the hunter closest to him into a tree—knocking him out. Bullets start to fly as Steve and Scott attack. Scott is surprised he hasn't been hit by any bullets yet as he knocks out another hunter.

Steve throws his shield toward the hunter's legs, the vibranium metal breaking their knees and shins as it hits them. He quickly knocks them out as they hit the ground one by one. It's not long until they've taken out all the hunters that attacked them.

"Is that it?" Steve asks, knocking out the last hunter.

"I doubt it. The others must have the rest of the hunters distracted or the rest of them haven't left the safe house." Scott says, looking around for other hunters.

"We should move in," Steve says, moving towards the safehouse before Scott sticks out an arm to stop him.

"Not until we're told too."

"There's no one over here. We should move in."

"Not until Y/N tells us too."

Steve doesn't understand why they can't just move in. They easily took out the hunters. He doesn't understand why they were acting like they were going to be a challenge. The hunters are down on their side, and they have a clear shot toward the safe house.

Scott's head quickly turns as he starts to smell something in the air, "Do you smell that?"

"What?" Steve doesn't know what Scott's talking about.

"It smells like..." Scott's voice trails off as his eyes widen as he looks behind Steve.

Steve quickly turns around to see four large creatures standing behind him. They look like men wearing bones and an animal skull for a mask. "What am I looking at?"

"Berserkers."

---

Sam and Bucky are standing back-to-back as they fight off the hunters around them while Malia holds off more of them.

"How many of these guys are there?" Sam asks, slamming another hunter onto the ground.

"I don't know but they're pissing me off," Bucky says. His arm comes up to block the bullets being shot at him from a hunter on the ground. He rips the gun out of the hunter's hand and knocks him out with a quick kick to the face.

Bucky turns to find another hunter to attack to see the hunters fleeing from them.

"Why are they running?" Sam asks.

"Something's coming," Malia states, her eyes closed while trying to listen to her surroundings.

Bucky tries to listen and see if he can hear what she hears. He closes his eyes for a second. It sounds like something is running toward them. He opens his eyes and stares into the woods in front of him. Something is charging at them.

"Get down!" Bucky tackles Sam to the ground as a deer jumps out from the trees and almost tramples over them. It runs past them almost as quickly as it appeared. It looked rabid.

"What the hell?" Sam mutters, staring at where the deer ran off.

Bucky looks down to where Sam is in his arms from when he tackled him. Disgusted, he scrambles up off the ground and away from Sam.

"Did you smell that?" Malia asks.

"Robo boy's cheap cologne? Yeah, I smelled it." Sam says, wiping the dirt off his suit as he stands up from the ground.

"No, the deer. It smelled like fear."

"Fear?" Bucky asks. He thought that something was running at them but what if it was running away from something? He slowly pulls out his walkie-talkie while his eyes dart around. "We found the Anuk-Ite."

"On our way," Stiles' voice rings out from the walkie-talkies.

"Are you sure?" Sam questions Bucky.

"Yeah, I'm su–" a pained scream from the woods cuts him off. He pauses, his head whipping toward the sound.

"Bucky! Buck!" someone is screaming out for him. He moves to run into the woods, but Malia moves in front of him to stop him.

"What are you doing?" Malia asks.

"Do you not hear someone screaming?!" Bucky yells, angry that she's preventing him from finding whoever's yelling for him. He swears it almost sounded like Steve.

"The only person screaming right now is you," Sam says.

"What?" Bucky looks between Sam and Malia. Can they not hear what he's hearing?

Sam stares at Bucky for a second before realizing what's happening, "Close your eyes! Close your eyes now!"

"Why am I closing my eyes?!" Malia yells, her eyes now shut tight.

"It's the Anuk-Ite. Whatever happens, don't open your eyes."

Sam, Bucky, and Malia stand still as they wait for something to happen. They're hoping Stiles gets here soon to kill the thing.

"How could you?" Bucky quickly whips his head around, his eyes still shut tight, as Steve's voice whispers in his ear. "Why?"

"I don't understand..." Bucky whispers, confused about what's happening.

"I told you to finish him." Bucky's head whips around again. He knows that voice. It belongs to the man responsible for turning him into the Winter Soldier, Arnim Zola.

"Buck...no," Steve's voice whimpers. "This isn't you."

"You have your orders, soldier! Kill him!"

"No!"

"You can't stop him, Steve. He's no longer the boy you used to know. He never will be. He has always been the Winter Soldier, and he always will be."

Bucky's closed eyes tighten as he repeatedly mutters to himself, "This isn't real. It's not real."

"Buck..." Steve's voice is quiet. Bucky can feel a soft hand caress his cheek. It feels like Steve.

"I'll do it." That sounds like Y/N's voice but harsher. It sounds like when she was pretending to be under the hunter's and Hydra's control.

"Ah, my perfect soldier. Always ready to do what you're told." Zola's voice sounds closer than it was before.

"She's not your soldier," Bucky growls. Y/N will never be Hydra's soldier.

"I think you're forgetting who you are. Let me remind you. Longing. Rusted. Seventeen. Daybrea–"

"Shut up!"

"It's who you are! Now, finish your mission!"

"No!" Bucky is trying to remind himself that this isn't real but it's getting harder too.

"Let me." Y/N's voice is now coming from in front of him. "Just admit it. You couldn't save yourself, you couldn't save me, and you couldn't save Steve."

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

It goes quiet. Maybe it's over?

As Bucky brings a hand up to his face to wipe away the overwhelmed tears that were slowly falling from his eyes, he hears someone being stabbed in front of him. His body goes rigid as he hears someone start to choke—possibly on their own blood.

"Hail Hydra," Y/N's voice whispers in his ear.

Bucky quickly opens his eyes toward the ground in shock and confusion. His eyes move slightly in front of him to a knife sticking out of someone. Not just someone. He'd recognize that uniform anywhere. Steve.

Bucky's eyes shoot up to Steve's face only to be met with the glowing purple eyes of the Anuk-Ite. His body immediately turned to stone.

"Buck, you still good?!" Sam calls out, unaware of what just happened. He can't hear Bucky, but he can hear Malia. She sounds like she's apologizing to someone until she goes quiet. "Malia?"

"Malia?!" Sam can hear someone yelling for her.

"Uncle Sam?! Uncle B?!" Peter rushes into the area where Sam, Bucky, and Malia are. Liam and Stiles run in behind him.

"Oh my god..." Stiles stares at Malia's frozen figure. She looks like a statue from Medusa's lair in the Percy Jackson movie.

"Please tell me you're real?" Sam asks.

"The Anuk-Ite's gone," Liam says.

Sam opens his eyes to see Peter staring at a Bucky statue. Stiles and Liam are also crouched down next to a Malia statue.

"What happened?" Peter turns to look at Sam.

"I-I don't know. One second it was here and now it's not. I'm not even sure when this happened." Sam gestures to Bucky. Why didn't the Anuk-Ite go for him? He could hear Bucky talking to someone—most likely whoever the Anuk-Ite wanted him to talk to—and he could hear Malia, but nothing ever happened to him.

"Now what?" Liam asks.

"They still need people attacking on this side," Stiles says. They need people to weaken the hunters from every side.

"I can still do it but I don't know if I can do it alone," Sam states.

"I'll stay," Liam volunteers. "I can help on this side while you two get the Anuk-Ite."

Stiles looks hesitant but agrees, "Make sure nothing happens to them." Stiles looks between Malia and Bucky and wonders how much longer he has before their current state is permanent.

"Where do you think it went?" Peter asks.

"I don't know."

---

"What the hell are these people?!" Nat yells out, barely missing the edge of the blade that swipes at her.

"They're Oni!" Kira yells back. She's trying to hold off four Oni while Natasha and Wanda fight the other three.

"I thought we're supposed to be fighting hunters?!"

"I thought the same thing!" Wanda yells.

Natasha ducks as one of the Oni swings their sword at her. She's able to remove the sword from the Oni's hand as the sword lodges itself in the tree next to her. Nat quickly pulls the sword away from the tree and watches as the Oni pulls another sword out of nowhere.

"We're going to die here." Nat mumbles, readying herself to continue fighting.

As Kira blocks the Oni's swings, she can see the glint of a weapon coming from within the trees behind them. "I think the hunters have finally decided to join them!" She hears something firing.

Wanda and Natasha turn to see several hunters running toward them. Most of them seem to be carrying guns while the others seem to be holding knives. Nat can count about thirty hunters.

"You guys take the hunters! I've got these guys!" Kira yells at them, her eyes starting to glow.

"You sure?!" Nat asks.

"Go!"

Wanda and Natasha break away from the Oni and charge toward the hunters. Nat throws the sword in her hand on the ground and pulls out her Glock 26s. As the hunters start to shoot at them, Wanda uses her powers to rip a tree out of the ground and throw it through the group of hunters — knocking several to the ground.

Nat ducks behind a tree as bullets fly past her. The bullets slowly come to halt as she reloads her guns. She can hear footsteps getting closer to her. It sounds like five different people are coming toward her. Nat puts one of her guns back in its holster as she takes a deep breath.

As the tip of a hunter's gun comes into view, she grabs the front of the assault rifle while throwing her elbow into the hunter's face. He lets go of the gun as she knocks him out with the butt of her Glock. Adjusting the assault rifle in her grip, she turns and shoots down the other four hunters.

"I thought we weren't supposed to kill any of them?!" Wanda yells out to Nat.

"I don't remember agreeing to that!" Natasha yells back.

Wanda throws another hunter back as she watches Nat take down more as well. Looking back at Kira, she notices a glowing figure around the young girl as she fights off the Oni.

Kira can feel her anger and frustration growing as she continues to fight. She can also feel her control starting to slip. The fox spirit around grows bigger and bigger the longer she fights.

As she feels a blade cut through her right thigh, her fox quickly grows before launching itself at the seven Oni. A blinding light shoots out as the Oni are killed, hindering the hunters. Kira can feel her fox getting more powerful with each Oni it takes out.

With her back facing the light, Natasha uses the distraction to shoot down the rest of the hunters. Looking over at Wanda, she can see her crouched behind a tree blocking the light with her hands. As the light disappears, she turns around to find Kira kneeling on the ground and no Oni around her.

"What happened?!" Nat yelled toward Kira.

"I killed them!" Kira yells back, pressing down on the wound on her leg as it starts to slowly heal.

"Why didn't you do that earlier?!"

"I don't really have control of it!"

"Did you have to kill all of them?" Wanda asks Natasha, looking at all the dead hunters behind them.

"Did you want me to wait until they killed one of us?"

Wanda rolls her eyes at Nat's response. She could've put them all to sleep but it's too late for that now. She walks over to where Kira is now sitting on the ground.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. My leg should be good in just a minute." Kira replies.

"I wonder if everybody else also has to deal with more than just hunters?" Nat mumbles, sitting down next to Kira.

---

Sitting up high in a tree, Y/N watches as Derek, Peter, and Chris battle the hunters down below. She can hear her radio go off and Scott's voice asking for help. It takes everything in her to not jump down and help after one hunter's knife gets a little too close to Derek's throat.

"Is this what you deal with here in Beacon Hills?" Tony questions, watching as more hunters seem to come out of nowhere.

"Yeah, but hunters have always been the least of our worries," Y/N replies, her grip tightening on the tree in anger as more hunters appear. She could easily use her powers from here and take them out but then Kate would know where she is.

Tony feels at a loss for words. Watching the hunters down below, he can't believe this is what his daughter has been with. He doesn't know why this didn't hit him before. He was so caught up in everything else, he hasn't taken a step back to notice how calm she and her friends seem to be about everything.

Since the Avengers have been in Beacon Hills, they've dealt with hunters, Hydra, and more. He knows to an extent what Y/N dealt with when she was with Hydra, but what else has she dealt with?

Friends of hers have apparently died and he has no idea why. Was it because of hunters? Was it because of something else they've faced? Or was it something that has nothing to do with this little world she lives in?

Tony stares at Y/N as he thinks of something to say. He has so many things that he wants to say and so many questions he wants to ask but now is not the time.

"I can practically hear you thinking from here," Y/N looks up and locks eyes with Tony. "I know you have a lot of questions and so do I. I don't really know how long you're going to be here in Beacon Hills, but I'd like to start over after all of this is done."

"We can stay as long as you want. You can come back with us too...i-if you want. I-I mean I know you're a lot older now, but we kept your rooms the same as you left them. Well, we have a cleaner that cleans them once every two weeks."

"Rooms?"

"Yeah, one at the compound and one in our old home. We haven't lived there since you...disappeared. I still kept it though just in case."

"Even after you thought I was dead?"

"You're not the only person we've known to be presumed dead to still very much be alive. I didn't want to give up hope. No matter how little it became."

Y/N doesn't know what to say to that. She looks back down to watch the others fight off the hunters. Most of the hunters are down so now is a good time to get to Kate.

"We should go now," Y/N looks back at Tony.

"How are we doing this?" Tony asks, not sure how to carry Y/N.

"Can I just get on your back?"

Tony flies off the tree and hovers in front of Y/N with his back turned toward her, "Let's go."

Y/N pulls herself away from the tree and climbs onto Tony's back. A small smile appears on her face as it reminds her of the piggyback rides her dad, the sheriff, used to give her all the time as a kid before they lost her mom. As Tony takes off toward the safe house, she wonders if Tony or the others ever used to carry her like this when she was younger.

Y/N holds on tighter to Tony as he crashes into the middle of the house. Once Tony has landed on the ground, she hops off his back and surveys her surroundings. They landed in what appeared to be the living room but there was no one around. There's no one shooting at them, charging at them, or even watching them. They are completely alone.

"Why is no one here?" Tony asks, his blasters ready just in case.

"I don't know..." Looking around Y/N can see weapons and ammo everywhere. On the wall, she can see pictures of herself and all her friends. There's even some of the Avengers. There's a large blood stain on the floor but there is nobody. Whose blood is it?

It's also quiet. Too quiet. If she listens in, she can hear the others fighting, but it's quiet in the house. Kate must be hiding somewhere. If there's one thing Y/N knows about the Argents, it's that they love a good basement moment. That's probably where Kate is hiding out. And if she's hiding then she knows she's outmatched. She knows they're losing.

As she turns to look at Tony, a body flies through the living room window. Y/N jumps back and is ready to attack until she notices who it is.

"Isaac?"

Isaac groans in pain but makes no move to get up off the floor, "Hey Y/N."

"H-how? What?"

"Scott told me everything so we came to help."

"We?"

As Isaac goes to answer, a girl with a crossbow steps through the broken window, "Isaac?!" She starts shooting toward something Y/N can't see.

"Braeden?"

"Who are these people?" Tony asks Y/N.

"He's a friend and she's..." Y/N pauses as she thinks of a way to describe who Braeden is, "she's a friend of Derek."

Isaac snorts, "Yeah, a friend."

Y/N kicks Isaac's arm at his comment, "What's happening out there? How'd you go through the window? Why haven't you got up?"

"I can't really move."

"What do you mean?" Y/N crouches down next to Isaac in concern.

"We aren't the only ones who know a kanima apparently."

Y/N rolls Isaac onto his side and looks at the scratch on his neck. She can see some of the venom still dripping from the wound.

"Who else has been affected by it?" Y/N asks, laying Isaac back down on his back.

"Scott was protecting a guy on the ground with a shield when I found them," Braeden replies, walking over to them.

Tony curses under his breath, "Should we help them?"

"Kira and two other girls are currently helping Scott."

Y/N turns her head to the broken window as she hears a loud roar. It sounded like Scott but she's not sure.

"Is it just the kanima they're fighting?" Y/N asks.

"No, there's Berserkers as well. Four of them."

Y/N stands up and looks at Tony, "Stay here and help them. I've got Kate."

"You're not going alone," Tony states. He's not going to abandon his daughter. He's here to protect her.

"They need your help more than I do. If the kanima takes more of them down, they will all be dead. Help them."

Tony hesitates for a moment before agreeing, "Fine, but then I'm coming back to help you."

"Fine. I'll probably be in the basement. At least that's where I'm assuming she is."

Tony looks like he's going to hug her for a moment before flying out through the broken window. Y/N can hear when he finds the others.

"So that's your dad huh?" Isaac says with a small smirk on his face.

Y/N rolls her eyes and huffs, "Shut up." Her radio sparks to life and she can hear Chris Argent calling for Stiles. The Anuk-Ite must be near them. Y/N turns to Braeden, "I've got Kate. Make sure he stays alive."

Y/N flicks her claws out as she checks all the doors to see if any lead into the basement. When she opens the fourth door, she sees stairs leading down into another room. She walks down slowly until she reaches the bottom.

Looking around, the stairs seemed to have led her to a hallway instead of a room. There are four different doors, and she doesn't know what's behind any of them. There's a long ugly rug that runs throughout the middle of the hallway. It looks out of place in the modern-looking hallway.

She's about to open the first door when she notices the end of the rug is flipped up as if someone tripped over it. That's when she notices something behind it. Moving the rug with her foot, she finds an escape hatch.

Y/N bends down and opens the hatch. Not seeing anything dangerous, she jumps down into what seems to be a tunnel. Looking down at the ground, she can see a single set of footprints leading away from her.

She follows the footsteps until she gets to the end of the tunnel. She notices a small ladder leading up to another hatch. Y/N climbs up the ladder and slowly opens the hatch. It takes her a second to realize where she is. She's next to an old lake her mom used to take her and Stiles to during the summer.

Climbing out of the tunnel, she looks around for Kate. She knows she's here, but she can't seem to see her.

"Kate! I know you're here!" Y/N yells out.

As she moves to look around, a bear trap snaps around her right ankle. Screaming out in pain, Y/N falls to the ground.

"I was wondering when you would show up, but I'm surprised you showed up alone." Y/N whips her head around to see Kate slowly walking up to her with twenty other hunters and two Berserkers behind her.

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

@vicmc624 @mrspetxrs @freyathehuntress @fheresm @stefans-wife @llamaproblem @taketimeandappreciate @youralphawolf72 @ornella0910 @shedsblood @ts1mp0ne @beautifulgrungekid @emily-roberts @danielle-leah1997 @itmejado @me-unitentionally @iv3t @james-bucky-barnes-bitch @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @darkenwolfie @inyourmomsworld @lokiandbuckywife @xx-narcissa @elite4cekalyma @thecrazytealady @ladyjenjay @misshale21 @cevans-winchester @fayhay14 @wtfcas @spencerreidsbookclub @depressedsleepysloth @hinata7346 @randomhoex @mirakeul @n1ght5h4d3-24 @allthingsavenger-y @belovacc @speedy-object-dream @pepelachanel @dark-night-sky-99 @missnyxsblog @xoxoloverb @ilearnedthatfromethepizzaman @kingshitonly @isnt-itstrange @twsssmlmaa @navs-bhat @zealouspostwitch @saahmi @distantsighs @jayxxace @a--1--1--3 @cutelittlepurplesouls @mermaid--dreamer-blog @maliagurl @peterpangirl21 @kneelforloki @slutformaddyperez @teenybean @small-town-wayward-daughter @labellapeaky @dabria14 @geeksareunique @emma-is-a-nerd @teen-wolf-fan @zzsloth @burn1ngw00d @esposadomd @natashamea18

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 1 month

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BuckTommyWhumpWeek, Day 6 Helicopter crash

All the Pain, Chapter 6 | Read on AO3 | In this chapter (CW): Still trapped under the rubble, Buck's body is giving in. | @bucktommywhumpweek

(-> Chapter 1) (-> Chapter 2) (-> Chapter 3) (-> Chapter 4) (-> Chapter 5)

There's a traffic accident on the interstate at 2 a.m., and it's bad.

Six cars wedged into each other, plus a burning truck loaded with pork halves, half a mile of destroyed guardrail and a bunch of meat spread across the highway. One dead, a dozen injured. It's a battlefield with three units of firefighters plus air support to sort everything out. The helicopter is mainly used to monitor traffic, while several police units clear up the chaos on the streets.

The 132, 217 and 118 are in operation. It's never easy to coordinate several task forces, but tonight, all captains quickly agree on Bobby because he's the oldest and has the most experience. Work runs smoothly, as if it were the catastrophe itself that welds everyone together – and often enough, it is. It's not easy, but every injured driver is freed from their wreck, and the paramedics quickly form a triage.

The accident is still a difficult piece of work, keeping them busy for several hours. It’s long after the last injured was taken away in an ambulance that the first responders get to pack up. Adrenaline will soon fade, and once they’re back in station, they’ll be exhausted. They will still stay a bit longer to talk about what happened, Bobby will make sure of that. Captain Shore, who recently took over Harbor Station, shakes hands with him after radioing air support that the mission is over.

“Very good work tonight,” says Bobby, and he means it.

“Likewise, Captain Nash,” Shore replies with a smile. “Hold on a second...”

She taps her radio again and repeats her message, “Air Support, do you copy? Operation completed.”

The radio crackles into silence, which is admittedly unusual; it’s protocol to answer every radio message. Bobby and Shore gaze up into a night sky illuminated only by a few stars, but it’s empty of helicopters.

Hen, who’s loading the last emergency bag into the fire truck, asks, “Is Tommy on duty today?”

“You think he flew straight home to his boyfriend?” Chimney replies with a laugh, about to get into the vehicle. “He's off tonight, why do you think Buck was so keen to swap shifts?”

“It's Andrews, not Tommy,” Shore confirms, repeating her radio message once again. “But none of my pilots would return to base without confirming order. I swear, if it’s that gremlin technology again…”

“Dispatch, has air support reported back?” Bobby asks into his radio.

“Negative. Is this about the highway accident? Can't you get through to air support?”

“Does that happen sometimes?” Bobby asks Captain Shore, and she nods.

“Harbor got a whole bunch of new tech gimmicks, but they keep breaking down.” Then she speaks into her radio again, “Dispatch, try to reach air support for me, please.”

She gives the helicopter’s labeling number and its last known position before turning back to Bobby with a grim face.

“Williams has been blowing me off for weeks, I keep trying to reach her. We can't work like this, not with devices that...”

“Captain Shore, your helicopter has disappeared from our radar,” dispatch reports. It’s Josh’s rookie, Chrissy, the incredulity dripping from her voice betraying her inexperience.

“What do you mean, disappeared?” Shore almost shouts into the radio.

“Hold on. Confirming last position according to your information, but no radio contact for about an hour, and the signal can no longer be found.”

“Does the GPS also cause problems?” asks Bobby, frowning.

“No,” replies Shore, ”but it can be difficult to locate, depending on the weather. Or when it’s blocked by trees...”

“You mean in the event of a crash,” says Hen, who, like the rest of Bobby's crew, has now stepped closer.

“We would have noticed a crash,” Bobby remarks.

“We've been pretty busy,” Chimney interjects. “If the last signal was an hour ago, the helicopter could be practically anywhere now.”

“Why would it move away from the scene?”

“That's at the pilot's discretion,” Captain Shore explains. “There may well be reasons that are not so obvious to us down here.”

“And air traffic control?” asks Hen, but Shore shakes her head, “Helicopters only have to sign in and out at their control centers. They don't fly anywhere near the altitude of airplanes, so they’re usually not subject to air traffic control.”

“But there's probably an app for that,” says Bobby. “To monitor helicopter traffic?”

“True. Never used it, though. I assume he’s just returned to Harbor.”

“Captain,” Hen reasons, obviously not convinced, “at least he would have called then, even if the radios were down. Especially then.”

“I believe you also think he crashed, Captain,” Chimney says, rummaging for his phone.

“Even if I did,” she returns with doubt in her voice, “somebody would have noticed a crash.”

“This is L.A., I’ve seen tourists mistake an earthquake for a movie event. What’s the name of this app?”

“Captain Shore?” It’s dispatch again. They can hear it’s another voice now, Josh, who’s obviously has taken over the call. Shore clutches her radio and holds out a hand to Chimney, mouthing wait. “I think I know where your helicopter may be.”

●·○·●·○·●·○·●·○·●●·○·●·○·●·○·●·○·●

Buck is in a cocoon, just away from all the security that normally comes with it.

There's nothing cozy or soft in his stone prison. He’s cut off from the world around him, so it might as well have gone under without him realizing it. Buck has been counting the seconds since Tommy left, but his mind keeps wandering, and it's getting harder to breathe.

Maybe that's just it. Maybe the ceiling will collapse completely before Tommy manages to get help. Or perhaps the pain and blood loss will reach the point where his body can no longer handle either. Buck never delved too deeply into the tasks of paramedics. He knows the basics, but he's nothing more than an amateur who happened to help a baby into the world once, on his own couch. Apart from that, he knows just enough to realize things are not exactly looking good for him. He's not quite sure if his life is hanging by a thread, but his consciousness certainly is – he feels dizzy now even lying down, and the pain seems to have taken over his whole body, even in his head. He just wants to close his eyes for a minute.

Perhaps the worst thing is the doubt. Buck is confused and hurt, but he's seen Tommy's face, and the man is guaranteed to have a concussion, if not worse. There's nothing Buck wants less than Tommy walking around in this state, but there's also nothing he could have done to stop him. He’s in crisis mode, something Buck knows all too well himself. Buck can only lie here, breathe in the dust and hope that Tommy still knows what he's doing, even with a bleeding skull.

He can't keep his eyes open.

There's a helicopter not far above the house; it was approaching as they pulled into the driveway.

“Pretty low,” Tommy says with that admirable connoisseur's look, but Buck is more interested in him than in the helicopter, and he can hardly wait for the man to unlock the door.

Once inside, he pushes him against the door, and the bag with the takeaway lands carelessly on the floor as Buck searches for Tommy's lips. He can never get enough of this.

The kiss lasts just long enough to rasp up his voice as he says, “Dinner's getting cold. I'm gonna wash my hands real quick.”

“Really, Evan?” groans Tommy, but he picks up the bag as they pull away from each other. “One wonders what you like more, dim sum or your boyfriend.”

“I'll show you when I get back,” Buck grins and vanishes into the bathroom.

He thinks he hears Tommy say, “That doesn't sound good at all,” but that doesn’t make any sense. He also hears sirens. Funny, Buck thinks, a lot of firemen claim that they can tell the difference between the sirens on their own fire engines and those on others, and that's actually nonsense because the department buys the same ones for every station. This one, however, totally sounds like the 118. What would they be doing at Tommy’s place? Buck leans on the sink and looks at himself in the mirror.

There’s no reflection, and it startles him. He turns around, but there’s also no door anymore, which is quite confusing. Because if there’s no door, where’s Chimney’s voice coming from, calling his name?

“Buck! Open your eyes for me, will you?”

I didn't realize I had closed them, Buck thinks as he cracks his eyes open. Strangely enough, it's not so dark now. Maybe he’s just been here for a very, very long time, long enough for a new day to have passed its zenith. A second later, he realizes that headlights are illuminating his surroundings. Chimney kneels in the remains of the blue tiles and stones that were once the walls of Tommy's bathroom. He looks so serious, thinks Buck.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. Let me see if I can hook you up on an IV, and then we'll get you out of there, yeah?”

Buck wonders, very briefly, why it’s not Hen doing this, but the answer is more logical than his aching head should be capable of: Chimney is smaller and more agile, and unlike Tommy, he actually manages to reach Buck.

“Tommy,” he says as he tries to look at Chimney's concentrated face, not really feeling what he's doing anyway. “Where's Tommy?”

“We'll take care of that once we got you out of here, all right? Let me check your vitals.”

“But he-he called you, didn't he?” asks Buck.

“Called us?”

His brother-in-law's face is interesting when he's confused, Buck finds. His eyebrows almost creep into his hairline, as they do now.

“No, Buckaroo. We were looking for a missing helicopter, and the only call dispatch got was from one of Tommy's neighbors. Nobody really took it seriously, unfortunately,” Chimney says as he works on Buck. Somehow, that doesn’t explain anything.

“What helicopter?” asks Buck, confused. “Tommy wasn't in a helicopter.”

“Pretty sure he wasn't. It's a long and strange story, and I'll tell you all about it as soon as we get you out of here. Okay, I think we can try now…”

“Wait,” Buck interrupts him urgently, “where's Tommy?”

Bobby's face shifts next to Chimney's. He’s visibly having a harder time squeezing into this narrow space.

“We'll find him, don't worry, Buck,” he soothes. “Let's help you first, all right?”

“No, no, you don't understand,” Buck returns with urge, voice muffled with dust in his throat. If he waits a second longer, he'll suffocate and won't have time to tell them what they need to know.

“Blood pressure's dropping,” someone says, and then there’s Chimney's voice from somewhere, “Calm down. It's going to be okay.”

“It's not," Buck chokes, “It's not gonna be okay. Tommy ran out to get help. He had a head injury. You must...”

“Buck? Hey. Stay awake, kid.”

“... find him,” he says, and then nothing more.

(this chapter was beta-read by @lavenderleahy, thank you!)

#writing #fanfiction #911 fanfic #BuckTommy #BuckTommy fanfiction #bucktommywhumpweek #day 6 #whump #whump community #tevan

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magicshopaholic · 1 year

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Trials and Temptation (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: You and Taehyung see each other for the first time in two weeks. Meanwhile, Jungkook finally gets something off his chest.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC

Genre: Angst, minor smut

Word count: 9.3 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, mentions of car crashes, allusions to sex, making out

A/N: I have reached a point in my life where I just don't proof read anymore, apparently. Still, hope you all like this one. It's been a while, but hopefully it's worth it. Set two weeks after Zandvoort.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @faearchives @margopinkerton @purpleseoul7 @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “madness” by muse

taehyung masterlist | main masterlist

Dilara’s limbs feel like lead in the best possible way.

She feels around for her phone, trying to move her hand as little as possible. Barely opening her eyes, she checks the screen to discover she’s been asleep for thirteen hours, meaning she’s missed dinner and breakfast.

She doesn’t regret it, though. She needed this sleep. Flying weekly from the Netherlands to Russia, to Italy and now to Singapore, with two entire race weekends and a third one beginning has brought her body to its breaking point.

But she has no choice now; it’s Thursday and the PR is always overdone in Singapore. The buffet is probably closed but the executive lounge is sure to be stocked with food even now. With a mighty effort, she slides out of bed and washes her face, choosing to head to the fancy executive lounge in the Hilton in shorts, a long-sleeved shirt and flip flops.

The lounge is mostly empty, which is expected. She sees the buffet at the end of the fancy room, a tempting sight against Singapore’s swanky landscape - and already surrounded by a few others. Her heart doesn’t have time to race in anticipation, because Yoongi spots her almost immediately.

All he does is raise his eyebrows in surprise and wave before the men around him spot her, too. She mumbles out a “hey” as they approach her, relieved smiles on their faces. Dilara can hear the sleep in her own voice and knows her face looks dull and puffy as hell. Still, it feels better than she can remember to see them and for a moment, she's worried her emotion will show in her expression.

"It's good to see you, Dilara," says Namjoon, hugging her and patting her back.

"Thanks," she replies, relieved. "I'm glad it's -"

Before she can finish her sentence, Jungkook emerges from behind Namjoon, knocking Jimin over on his other side, and hugs her as well. He's silent but his arms are tight around her shoulders, and once she's over the momentary surprise, Dilara gently pats his back and waits until he lets her go.

"Hey, JK," she murmurs as he slowly steps back. As though it's like a magnetic pull, her gaze finds Taehyung over his shoulder, head lowered and keeping a respectful distance.

Their eyes meet and her heart jolts at the expression on his face.

The crash had been unexpected for everyone. The entire team had been taken off guard; for the best car on the grid to spin out the way it did and hit a barrier hard enough to break it, it had brought the entire circuit to a standstill. John, her engineer, had been muttering into the radio: “Dilara, you okay? Respond, please. Dilara, are you okay?”, over and over on a loop, voice getting tighter and tighter with every passing second of silence, followed by Christian’s voice. Dilara. Let us know you’re okay, please.

Of course, she didn’t know this at the time. The impact had been so strong that her earphones had slipped out of her ears and she’d heard nothing. Without any response from her, she could only imagine that everyone was assuming the worst. Her ears had been ringing, her head spinning, the only sound she could make out being the one of her tyres crashing into the barrier.

The race was red flagged and the medical car had picked her up from the crash site. Despite the fact that she was walking, albeit slowly, she was taken straight to the medical room and checked out while the stewards fixed the barriers.

The first person Dilara spoke to when she was handed her phone was her mother, her voice shaking with relief when she heard her daughter’s voice through the phone. Her stepfather was next, followed by Chris and Fred, followed by Lexie, followed by Mick Schumacher who’d run over from the Ferrari garage to check if she was okay.

The race was done and the car was totalled - there was nothing that could be done about that. The Red Bull travel team had pushed her flight from that evening to the next afternoon, giving her the rest of the day to heal before travelling.

Her team helped her get back to the garage, her press officer helped her through the post-race interviews, her friends helped her back to the hotel, and the hotel staff in Tuscany went over and above to ensure that she was taken care of until she checked out the next day.

It made Dilara feel ungrateful, that despite the support she had, part of her attention was constantly on her phone, waiting for one call only.

Yoongi messaged her right after the crash; it was clear that he didn’t care about whatever limbo she and Taehyung were in, choosing to only ask if she was okay and to let him know if she needed anything. Towards the evening, it seemed even Jimin couldn’t resist checking in and dropping her voice note, sounding distinctly as though he was whispering.

It was a mild sort of relief she wasn’t a fan of: they didn’t forget. Dilara knew why Taehyung wasn’t calling her, but it didn’t stop her from waiting for it all the same. Fortunately, by the time her mind started tending towards more dangerous scenarios, the week began and she had to fly out to Singapore for the last race in this triple header. The weekend after that would be free, and the weekend after that would be Suzuka, Japan - Red Bull’s last race in partnership with BTS.

Taehyung’s hair is black again, falling into his eyes, curling at the nape of his neck in the Singapore humidity. The ash blond from before - from before - is gone, leaving him looking like he did the first time they met. Dilara wonders briefly if this was deliberate on his part.

When it seems clear that he’s waiting for her to decide what to do, she makes her way towards him slowly, noting from the corner of her eye how the others awkwardly disperse. She notices the flicker in his eyes as she approaches him, of restrained relief. He swallows and his toes press into the soles of his slippers, as though stopping himself from moving forward.

The smell of lotion is what was missing in that medical room in Tuscany; Dilara knows it now. Taehyung swallows and she raises her arms halfway, nodding slightly and taking another step towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and feeling him envelope her instantly.

It’s tight, bordering on uncomfortable, but she lets it continue. It’s desperate, just like it is for everyone who watches someone they care about crash a speeding car during a race. It’s not unexpected, and when he silently lowers his head onto her shoulder, face tilted and lips pressed to the collar of her t-shirt, she squeezes him tighter.

“‘M ‘kay,” she mutters into his collarbone, hearing her voice muffled against his skin. “I’m here.”

—

Singapore is hot and humid. The drivers will be expected to take an ice bath on Saturday and Sunday, an event that will usually be photographed for PR. Dilara isn’t particularly looking forward to it, especially since she knows it’ll be similar to last year: a hot tub filled with ice, and all four drivers from Red Bull and AlphaTauri shivering inside it for shits and giggles.

She prefers the pool - more when the executive pool is reserved just for selected guests. The view of the city is spectacular from this height; she moves her legs slowly behind her in the water as she peers out over the infinity pool, feeling the cool water across her shoulder blades.

Dilara turns when someone else joins in; she waves to Jungkook, who waves back before slipping off his T-shirt and gracefully diving into the water. He does an entire lap around the pool before slowly breast stroking his way towards her and joining her at the edge.

“It’s so hot,” he comments, smoothing back his wet hair and standing to his full height. The water reaches somewhere around his pecs, droplets of water gleaming on his honey coloured chest and shoulders.

Dilara looks away quickly. “Better than Russia, though. But still,” she agrees, pushing her sunglasses up her nose. “This race is going to be hell.”

“I can imagine.”

He can’t, really, but that’s okay; she appreciates the sentiment. Jungkook’s always taken the most interest in racing; not in her racing career, but racing in general. The fact that he might be the only one to know just how hard she crashed in Italy and how bad it could’ve gotten isn’t lost on her.

“When did you guys get here?”

“Last night.” Jungkook slides down into the water all the way to his neck and turns around so his back is against the wall. “Most of them flew from Seoul so it wasn’t that bad. Only me, Namjoon hyung and Taehyung hyung stayed in Europe.”

Dilara frowns, resting her elbows on the edge. “Why? You guys had almost two weeks off. Didn’t you want to go home?”

“We didn’t have it off,” he clarifies, snorting a little. “Suga hyung was in the studio the whole time and Hobi hyung and Jimin were filming for a commercial. Namjoon hyung had to go to the studio, too, but I think he rescheduled it. Wanted to stay with Kaya for a little longer.”

“And you and Taehyung tagged along? Third wheels much?”

“No! We went to Paris for a few days and only went to Amsterdam at the end of the week. We watched the race with them,” he adds.

“Uh-huh. What did you think?” She smirks a little from behind the sunglasses. “Was it all the entertainment the sport promises?”

Jungkook gives her a look. “Not funny.”

Dilara’s smile fades. “Sorry.” She turns around and leans back against the wall like him, noticing how much longer his legs are under the water. “Where are the others?”

“Others?”

“Yes, all six of them.”

He chortles. “They should be up here soon.” He barely gets the words out of his mouth before Namjoon and Hoseok enter the pool area from inside, both of them wearing sunglasses like her, in swimming trunks and thin T-shirts.

Dilara and Jungkook watch the rest of them arrive in relative silence, snorting in unison when Seokjin brings a gigantic inflatable duck with him. Jimin whips off his shirt as well and winks at her before heading to the bar for a drink.

Taehyung is the last to arrive, his face hidden behind huge sunglasses. She can still tell when he spots her; he pauses momentarily and raises a hand halfway in a wave before joining Jimin at the bar.

Dilara swallows, her heart jolting slightly. Her eyes follow him as he seemingly scans the menu, his hands loose in the pockets of his shorts. His black hair looks bright against the thin white T-shirt; despite herself, she imagines what it would be like to run her hands through it.

Next to her, Jungkook clears his throat conspicuously.

“Have you two…”

“No.”

He nods while she looks down at the water, trying to ignore her disappointment at his unenthused greeting.

“Do you want to…?”

“I don’t know.” Dilara exhales. “He seems… busy, anyway,” she adds, glancing at him, now seemingly discussing the menu with Jimin.

Jungkook follows her gaze and bites his lip. “Understood.” He leans forward and pushes himself into the water. “Got your back.”

She frowns. “What does that mean?”

But Jungkook has swum away. She watches in mild confusion as he glides diagonally across the pool like a shark and emerges almost soundlessly, dripping from head to toe. Then, with a yell in what can only be Korean, he barrels towards Jimin, who shrieks, as he pushes him and they both get thrown into the water.

There’s an outbreak of guffaws, followed by Jimin sputtering and complaining and Jungkook laughing loudly. In the confusion, Dilara swims over to the same spot that Jungkook had and climbs out, quietly joining Taehyung who’s now at the self-service counter next to the bar. A chilled water tank rests on it, with slices of brightly coloured fruit floating inside it.

Taehyung turns to her and his grin fades slightly, but he doesn’t look unhappy. He takes his sunglasses off the same time she does, swiping his hair out of his eyes the same time she lets hers out of its bun, ropes of wet hair falling loose around one shoulder.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hey.” His gaze flickers down her simple red one-piece before meeting hers again. He holds it for a few seconds and then looks away, fiddling with the nozzle of the water cooler. “How are you?”

It takes Dilara a moment to process his words. I’m just swell, thanks. “Um… I’m okay. You?” she asks after a moment.

“Same.” He gives her a hint of a smile, polite. Formal. Then, as though he can’t resist, his gaze focused on his glass under the nozzle, he speaks again. “Are you okay? Did you… did you get hurt?”

“In the crash?” She notices him wince slightly. “No… not really. They checked for a concussion and stuff, but… all okay.”

“Good.” Taehyung nods, glancing at her. “Because… well, I heard that when something like that happens, they don’t show the driver on camera until they know the driver is okay. And they didn’t show you for a while,” he mutters, looking at the ground.

Dilara frowns. “You were watching,” she states, realising only now that she can’t actually picture him watching two and a half hours worth of a race.

“Yeah, I was,” he answers, sounding a bit confused at her statement.

A memory tugs at her heart. Another crash, less dangerous than this one. A cloudy, grey afternoon on the paddock in Suzuka. I think I’ll be worried every single weekend from now on.

That had been less than forty-eight hours after they’d met. She’d been a bit cold towards him that day, annoyed at the thought of being a one-night stand who was being ignored. It seems ridiculous in hindsight.

“My earphones came off,” she explains, reaching for a cup so she can give her hands something to do. “So I couldn’t hear the team. How long was I off camera?” she asks, curious.

He’s still not looking at her properly, as though she’s going to blind him if he stares at her too long. “A few minutes,” he murmurs. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

There’s another moment of strange, awkward silence. “And I’m sorry about the race, too,” he adds, as though it’s another bullet point he’d rehearsed and almost forgotten.

“Right. It’s okay. My main competition in the points right now is Charles and his engine failed so he couldn’t finish his race either,” she explains. “So it didn’t really make a difference.”

“That’s good.”

When he doesn’t say anymore, Dilara nods slowly, at a loss for anything more to say.

The crash scared him. He was scared. That would explain the careful distance he’s maintaining- except, it wouldn’t. This is not scared Taehyung; scared Taehyung would start losing his cool even faster, his emotions bubbling up to the surface. But there’s none of that here. She thinks of the way he’d hugged her this morning, held her so close to him - that was scared Taehyung, or the closest to it that she’s seen so far..

Since then, however, it’s like he’s doing everything in his power to maintain a distance, one that’s just growing further and further.

Dilara licks her lips and glances up at him, watching him sip at his drink. Finally, she shakes her head.

“How come you didn’t call me?” she asks, unable to keep it in any longer.

Taehyung frowns and whips around to look at her, his eyes wide. “You - you told me not to -”

“No, I know,” she says quickly. “I know what I said. I just… I kind of expected you to do it anyway,” she remarks, realising it’s true. Most of her had no faith that he’d do what she asked, his own needs sure to overpower her wishes eventually.

He looks a bit doubtful. “Sorry?”

She cracks a small smile. “Don’t be. How did you restrain yourself, though?” When she notices the small frown, she amends her question. “How did you stop yourself?”

“Oh, uh…” Taehyung rubs the back of his neck, slender fingers gliding through his thick hair. “I mean, you asked me not to.” He shrugs lamely but then sighs. “I thought about it,” he admits. “After the - after the crash. But I didn’t want to make it worse… and Kaya agreed, too. She said I should give you space if you asked for it.”

Dilara struggles to picture it: Taehyung, Jungkook, Namjoon and Namjoon’s girlfriend, all watching the race, seeing her crash into the barriers and the race getting red flagged. Taehyung debating whether to call her; did he ask Namjoon for his advice, which prompted Kaya to give hers? Did they guess?

“You told her?” she asks, for lack of anything else to say.

“Not really… I guess Namjoon hyung did.”

She isn’t surprised, neither does she really care. She supposes it should make her happy, that he did what she wanted, but all she can feel is something akin to disappointment, especially when she looks up and sees him still standing a careful four feet away from her, as though afraid to get too close.

Dilara takes a step closer to him but before she can say anything, Taehyung places his empty glass down. “I’m going to swim for a bit,” he says quickly, shuffling backwards. “You can join us, if you want.”

If you want. It had seemed like fun before, being around friendly faces after two weeks of travelling mostly alone. But with Taehyung seeming so uncaring about it, inviting her just to be polite - suddenly she wants to be anywhere but here.

—

The next day is Friday, Free Practice day. Yet, nothing changes. She continues seeing him around, in the hotel, in the paddock, in the restaurant - and Taehyung continues acknowledging her from a distance and exchanging careful, guarded words when he has to. It’s confusing, but it’s also filling her with a sense of dread she can’t place.

Dilara doesn’t know if the other guys have noticed this weird change in dynamic; if they have, they aren’t reacting to it. Given Singapore’s real estate scenario, all of them are put up in a hotel this time in separate suites. The group has three, as far as she knows, and she has her own. For the first time since this PR stunt began, she finds herself wishing they were still living in the same house.

The weather is just unbearable. After the first awkward encounter at the pool, Dilara throws caution to the wind and starts heading out there for a quick dip whenever she can. She runs into Jungkook a couple of times, once into Namjoon - and once into Taehyung on her way back.

Their hotel rooms are on the executive floor, meaning no one but them has access to it. On Friday night, after a long day of free practice, debriefs with the team, the pre-race press conference and some PR, Dilara sneaks away for a late night swim. She doesn’t have the energy for more than a couple of laps, spending most of her time floating on her back.

She doesn’t even bother showering in the changing rooms. Pulling on a pair of shorts over her swimsuit and slipping into her flip flops, she heads back to her room, barely noticing the droplets of water from her hair dotting the carpeted floor. When she’s almost at her suite, the door opposite her own swings open and Taehyung emerges, adjusting a headband on his head when he sees her.

“Hi,” she says after a moment.

Taehyung looks almost like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes flicker and he glances up and down the corridor before giving her a formal smile and a nod. “Hey.”

Dilara tries not to grit her teeth too obviously. She stares at him and silently lowers her hands from where she’d been holding a towel to her chest, exposing the bikini top she’d specifically worn because she’d known she’d be alone at the pool. Leaning back against the wall, she holds his gaze.

Taehyung tries, really tries, to keep his eyes trained on hers, but eventually he breaks, swallowing as he takes in her appearance.

“Are you going out somewhere?” she asks.

It takes him a moment. “I - no. I mean, kind of. I think I left something in the car so I’m going to my manager’s room to check if he found it or…” He trails off. “You?”

“Went for a swim.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah.” Dilara nonchalantly sweeps her hair over one shoulder, stretching her side as she does so. “It was nice. Quiet. But you know -” she shrugs “- still public. Anyone could have come out there.”

She’s being extremely obvious now, but it seems to be a situation that demands it. She watches Taehyung nod jerkily and bite his lip, his gaze still lingering low on her torso before struggling upwards to her face. He is unbelievably handsome; her heart stutters when his eyes snap up to meet hers, dark and knowing.

“And it’s better than the ice bath tomorrow. I’m not really looking forward to sharing a tub with Max and those guys,” she adds casually, subtly watching him for his reaction and feeling her stomach sink slightly when he displays none.

“Might help with the heat,” he offers vaguely, looking at the ground now. “You should - you should get some rest. For tomorrow.”

Dilara stares. “Tomorrow is Qualifying. Not the race.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Still.” He takes a deliberate step back, hands in his pockets, and she notices only then how much closer they’d gravitated towards each other. “It’s late. I - have you had dinner?”

“Not yet. Do you want to -”

“Jungkook hasn’t either, I think,” he interrupts. “Or Yoongi. I think they have ramen in their room, too.” He points in the general direction of the corridor. “I should go.”

She nods, too frustrated to talk. With no interest in having dinner with Yoongi or Jungkook, she watches him strut down the corridor and turn in the direction of the elevator, out of sight.

On Saturday morning, Dilara gets ready for the final round of Free Practice before Qualifying in the evening. It’s hot, as usual, but she can’t focus on that right now. The fact that she has roughly eight hours until Qualifying is weighing on her; in eight hours, the expectation from her will be to drive her fastest around the circuit, to push the car to its limit and beyond.

She’d done exactly that in Tuscany and her brakes had failed. Granted, it was the only time in ages that the Red Bull had ever been faulty to this extent, but it had still happened to her. A more flimsy barrier, a hotter track, a differently designed car - that’s all it would’ve taken for the crash to have been far more serious.

Dilara stares at the seat, feeling her mouth go dry. Climbing into the car, being strapped to the seat… she’d managed Free Practice yesterday, but today seems like a whole different ball game. Fully aware of the mechanics and team members milling around her, however, she rolls back her shoulders and brings her hair to the front to braid it, hoping to delay the process of getting into the car.

She wishes Lexie were here. The team was supportive of her recovery throughout, but this is different. They’re still the team and she’s the driver; after all the work they’ve put in all year, she owes them a good race no matter what. Lexie would’ve been here for her, for Dilara, with the race being the second priority.

Dilara looks up across the garage at where BTS will be seated during the race tomorrow, possibly during Qualifying as well. Taehyung might have been here for her only, but she can’t see him anywhere right now. He wasn’t there after the crash, and he isn’t here now - and Dilara has never been more aware of his absence. It scares her more than it should, but it’s not something she should be worrying about on a race weekend.

Taking a deep breath, she steps into the car.

—

“Fifteen minutes to the interview!”

“Copy!” Dilara waves to Vicki before stepping into her changing room, relieved to be out of the heat for a few minutes. She lets her hair out of its ponytail, curling wildly in the humidity and shakes it out for some of the air conditioning to hit her scalp.

It’s pre-Qualifying interviews in a few minutes; usually she’d be out there in full race gear, ready for the pictures and the drivers’ parade after. But in this heat, she can’t imagine a single driver would be in their overalls. Lewis had shown up in a tank top last time; in an effort not to pass out from a heat stroke, Dilara makes the executive decision to wear half her team overalls with a sports bra, thin and white.

She jumps when she hears a knock on her door. “Come in,” she calls, frowning, which turns into shock when the knob turns and Kim Taehyung slips inside, immediately locking the door behind him.

“Oh, my God - how did you get in here?” she gasps as he tentatively enters the cramped changing room. “Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t think so.” He tosses his hair out of his eyes, walking up to stand in front of her and still keeping a deliberate four feet between them. “I just wanted to say…” He trails off, swallowing and looking around the room.

Dilara’s heart hammers, partly from the shock and partly from the scent of his lotion in such close quarters. His thin button-down, white and loose, makes him look like a character from a period film. His hair is darker than ever and perfectly soft and fluffy, apparently unaffected by the humidity. She clears her throat.

“Yeah?”

“Just… good luck.” Taehyung nods awkwardly and seemingly turns to leave but then stops. “And… don’t do what you did last time.”

“What do you mean?” It takes her a moment to understand what he’s referring to. “Wait, you’re talking about the crash? I didn’t do anything - Lando Norris blocked me and I locked up and then my brakes -”

“Fine,” he interrupts her, taking a step forward. “Just… don’t do that again. Don’t let that happen again. Please,” he adds tightly.

It’s not her ideal form of a confessional, but with whatever is going on with him right now, she supposes it’s the best she’s going to get. She places her hands on her hips, surveying him critically.

“That’s it?”

“What?”

The same disappointment she’d been feeling all weekend threatens to take over but she knows she can’t afford emotions like that before racing. So she simply shrugs. “Fine. I’ll do my best not to crash into a barrier and destroy my car. Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes and turning away when he grabs her wrist.

“Wait, Lara, are you -” He scoffs slightly. “Are you angry with me?”

She raises her eyebrows, noting how he instantly drops her wrist. “Why would I be angry?”

Taehyung tilts his head and gives her a look, and she can almost hear him say I can tell, you know. “I just came to wish you good luck.”

“Great.” She takes a step forward towards him. “Anything else?”

“No. That’s it.”

Dilara could shake him. The sinking feeling is returning and she has to get rid of it in a few minutes or it could ruin her entire Qualifying. Vaguely recalling the last time they were in her changing room together, she steps up towards him and kisses him.

Taehyung seems surprised for a fraction of a second before his entire facade seemingly crumbles; he kisses her back instantly, holding her face and walking her back until she feels the wall.

Finally, she thinks reaching up and pulling him closer by the shirt, feeling his slender torso against hers. It’s fast and messy; their hands roam across each other boldly and Dilara tries to breathe in as much of him as she can, desperate to retain this version of him that she knew was here this whole time.

She squeezes her eyes shut as his lips move across her jaw and down her neck, remembering that she has about seven minutes at best before she has to be at her pre-Qualifying interview. It’s too hard to focus on anything else right now, though; she runs a hand through Taehyung’s hair, feeling his arms tight around her. Her core tingles pleasurably as he goes lower and she moans, feeling him make his way down her chest and suck on her nipple.

Dilara realises a moment too late and gasps the same time that he pulls away with a jerk, as though electrocuted. They stare at each other for a second, their expressions identical ones of horror before she looks down to see the most incriminating spot on her white sports bra, right in the open for everyone to see.

“What - what did you do?” she stammers, glaring up at him. “I have to be on camera in five minutes!”

Taehyung’s still staring at it in shock, but his crisis seems to be wholly different. He swears softly in Korean and takes several steps back, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.” He swallows and meets her eyes, and his face shutters over into the same smooth expression he’s had on all weekend. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, more formal this time. “Good luck tonight. And… be careful.”

Dilara watches him leave, waiting for the sinking disappointment again. But it never comes, which she’s glad for because it’s not an emotion that helps her in a race. The ideal one would be her love for racing, or her need to win. Any of those are preferable to disappointment or heartbreak.

But anger works just as well, too.

—

The debrief after Qualifying feels like the longest one Dilara has ever attended, even though her phone says it’s only been about forty-five minutes. She gets through it in a daze; for once, she has no feedback on the car. It worked perfectly well, she drove perfectly well and her result was satisfactory for everyone. No, this session is focused on Max and some inane aspect of track limits that he’s been complaining about since before Qualifying ended.

Dilara has nothing useful to contribute to this discussion, so the moment she gets an out, she takes it. Her car drops her back to the hotel and she takes the elevator straight to the executive floor, but doesn’t go to her own suite. Instead, she knocks on the door opposite it, noticing how her hand trembles just a little bit.

Her phone pings then and she sees an Instagram message from Lexie: a picture of herself from the paddock half an hour ago, wearing a black sports bra and cotton shorts, with a striped open shirt over it - the exact same thing she’s wearing right now. Under the picture is a message from her friend: Everything okay? Thought you’d be celebrating P3!

It’s a testament to their friendship that even though it’s a picture of her smiling, Lexie can still tell when it’s fake. Dilara locks the phone when she hears footsteps behind the door, making a mental note to reply to Lexie later; right now, she needs to hold on to the anger that got her to P3.

The door swings open to reveal Jungkook, in a sleeveless black t-shirt and shorts, holding a chilled water bottle. “Hey, Dilara!” he exclaims, a smile instantly appearing on his tired face; her guess is he’s just returned from the gym. “Congratulations on P3!”

“Thanks.” For some reason, the room is completely dark, save for a colourful lamp throwing shadows on the walls. It takes a few moments for her gaze to find Taehyung behind him at the mini bar, who doesn’t look too surprised to see her here. “Can I talk to you? In private?”

He says nothing, simply looking towards the living room where Jimin is sprawled on the couch, sitting in front of the TV.

“Dilara, hey! Wanna join -”

But he cuts off abruptly, possibly at the sight of her expression. For a few seconds, no one moves. Dilara’s eyes flicker from Taehyung to Jungkook, hoping at least one of them will make the next move. It seems to be Jungkook’s cue.

“Right. Gotcha.” He strides into the room and beckons Jimin to get up. There’s some whining and complaining in Korean, but a few seconds later, Jungkook and Jimin brush past her to exit the room, the latter in a chokehold of sorts.

Dilara steps inside and waits for the door to swing shut behind her, turning to lock it for good measure. She walks slowly towards the living room; there’s an open bottle of whiskey on the coffee table and the TV screen is frozen on a dark shot of a Billie Eilish music video.

“You guys don’t believe in using lights?”

“Jungkook got a new lamp,” is all Taehyung offers in explanation. She turns to see him approaching her gingerly and stopping at the edge of the room; it makes her blood boil. “Congrats on P3. You drove really well.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “Maybe I should’ve crashed. It seems to be the only way to get you to act like a real person.”

A shadow passes over his face. “Don’t ever say that.”

“It’s true.” When he says nothing, she scoffs. “I can’t believe you did that. I had no time to change - I was just lucky I had a black bra in my changing room or I would’ve had to wear that damn race suit for the drivers’ parade. I would’ve overheated before Qualifying even began! Do you care at all -”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t plan -”

“Then why did you even come into my changing room?” she demands, walking over to him and pushing him back by the shoulders. “Was it just to tell me to be careful? Are you serious?”

“I came to -” But he breaks off, his gaze falling to the ground again. “I came to wish you good luck.”

“Bullshit.”

There’s a look in his eyes, one of agreement and pleading. “I’m sorry I got carried away. I didn’t mean to make things difficult for you,” he says quietly.

It takes everything in her not to scream. But that would be pointless. So far, only one thing seems to have worked in bringing forth the Taehyung she knows from behind this robotic stranger; without another thought, she kisses him again.

Dilara doesn’t wait for him to take the lead this time. The anger, the frustration, the confusion - and most of all, that dangerous, dreaded disappointment - takes over and she pushes him backwards on the sofa, taking off her shirt and straddling him. Taehyung doesn’t even seem surprised this time; his hands are already on her hips, pulling her closer so she feels his bulge underneath her.

It’s that same desperation again; it’s as though the outward, uncaring persona has been shed like a snake’s skin, revealing everything he truly wants to say. He’d said part of it back in the changing room and he’s saying the rest of it now. He doesn’t seem to mind in the least that she’s in control; all he seems concerned with is keeping her close, his lips on hers and his body reacting accordingly.

Their clothes are off in minutes - everything but the black sports bra. Pushing his shoulders back into the back of the sofa, mouths only inches apart as they breathe heavily, she slides onto him, groaning at the feel of him after so long. Taehyung grunts into her neck as she begins moving, trying with each second to find those blissful few moments where it’s just him and her, and none of the mess they’ve left in their wake.

The aftermath is worse. Sitting side by side on the sofa, half-clothed, in the dark and shadowy room, Dilara drops her head back on the sofa.

“How does this happen?” she murmurs, rubbing her eyes. “How does this happen every time? I’m angry with you and ten minutes later -” She breaks off and turns to him, his silhouette perfectly angular. “This isn’t normal, right? A normal person wouldn’t do this. How - how are you making me do this?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer, knowing he’s not meant to. He lets her get it out before exhaling. “Do you want a drink?” he asks softly.

It’s back. The distance, the tone - it’s back. But Dilara is too tired. “Yes, please.” She watches him as he leans forward and makes her a drink, complete with a pile of ice cubes before handing it to her. She takes a sip and winces.

“Sorry. We’ve only opened the whiskey so far. Do you want wine instead?”

“I don’t want anything. What do you want, Tae?” she asks him instead, standing up and going around the table. Not caring that she’s just in her underwear, she kneels directly opposite him. “You’re acting like you can barely stand me - except for when we fuck.” She tilts her head when he still doesn’t look at her. “Is that all you need from me now?”

Taehyung doesn’t take the bait. “You wanted space, Dilara,” he says. His tone is the opposite of hers; no sharpness, just plain and calm. “I’m just doing what you asked.”

Yes, you are. But this isn’t the way. He’s not just giving her what she wants - there’s something else there, too. She knows it, she could feel it in the way he backed away from her in her changing room earlier today, even in the way he held her a few minutes ago, as though savouring her for the last time.

Dilara sighs, biting her lip. All the anger she was holding onto has disappeared; the sinking feeling is all that’s left. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

The silence is loud. Then, Taehyung sits back as well. “Yeah, you do.”

Yeah, she does. She knows what he wants; despite his restraint, his distance, his guardedness, he’d let it slip earlier today when he’d snuck into her changing room, an hour after she was filmed in an ice bath with her Red Bull teammates. Dilara knew when she was being marked; unfortunately, Kim Taehyung couldn’t just give her a hickey like a normal person. No, his way was a step further as usual, but the message was just as clear.

“No, I don’t. So tell me.”

“I can’t, Lara,” he mutters, and his voice strains just a little bit. “It would be too selfish of me.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Taehyung finally looks up at her. His eyes look so soft in the dim lights, so unlike the blazing, laser-gaze he usually fixes her with. Then his eyes flicker to the floor, and he swallows.

“I want another chance. With you.” He takes a deep breath and continues. “I know I hurt you, but I want to try again. I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

He doesn’t say it like it’s something he’s asking her for. He says it like it’s a pipe dream, like he’s a child who’s asked what he wants to be when he grows up. An astronaut. A chef. Your boyfriend, again.

The sinking feeling, the dreadful disappointment that’s been following her all weekend - it suddenly makes sense. It’s not just about giving her space and it’s not about his fear over her crash. His distance is so much deeper than that.

Dilara scoffs, feeling her face start to sting. “Oh, God. You’re giving up.”

“Excuse me?”

She stands up, clutching the glass of whiskey. “I can’t believe you,” she mutters, shaking her head. “After everything that’s happened, after all we’ve been through, you’re just giving up? I told you not to call me, I told you to give me space - you got your feelings so damn hurt by that that you decided it’s just not worth it anymore?”

“I didn’t -”

“No, that’s not fair!” she exclaims. “You don’t get to do that, okay? This is - everything that’s happened is because of you! You did this to us, you’re the reason we’re here, so you don’t get to just give up!” She slams the glass on the wooden table and turns away when she sees him stand up as well.

“You don’t think I know that?” His deep voice takes her off guard, but she’s relieved. This is the loudest she’s heard him all weekend. “You don’t think I know that this is all my fault? I know I did this - and I’m still screwing it up! Even now, I’m still hurting you, so…” He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m done. I’m just going to do what you want. Whatever you want.”

“Really.” She scoffs and folds her hands across her chest. “Whatever I want?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “You want space? I’ll stay away from you as long as you want. You want to take it slow? You want to just fuck once a year when we’re in the same country? Done,” he states, his voice trembling. “I’ll do it.”

Dilara stares at him. His shoulders are broader than she remembers, and she relives for a moment how they felt earlier this week when he’d been transparent about his relief at seeing her alive and okay.

“But that’s not what you want,” she reminds him. “You want to -”

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he interrupts her, stepping closer to her. “That’s what I’m saying. Every time I do what I want, I end up hurting you and pushing you away. So it’s not about me anymore - I’ll do whatever you want to -”

“Then help me!” she implores. “Help me hate you more!” Dilara sniffs, turning away from his stunned expression. “And if you can’t do that… at least don’t be a coward. You don’t get to give up.”

She brushes past him to get to her clothes, strewn next to the sofa. As she pulls them on, she glances through her hair at Taehyung, boxers on and nothing else, with his head in his hands, looking defeated. The rest of the room looks remarkably the same; she remembers Jimin sitting on that sofa a half hour before she and Taehyung had sex on it, and she cringes.

“Lara, I don’t want to hurt you anymore,” he says as she moves to leave. “It’s not fair.”

Dilara has no response to this. The last three weeks have been immeasurably useful in helping her realise how she still feels about him, but none of it matters if he’s no longer in the game. It occurs to her only now how much she was counting on him fighting for it; without that, it’s too overwhelming for her alone, like being in the middle of a car crash without a single person to pull her out.

“You should call for a turn-down service,” she tells him, gesturing to the sofa. “Before those guys get back.”

He nods. “Good luck for tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Tae.” She steps out of the room and closes the door behind her, immediately gulping in bag loads of air. The first sob takes her by surprise. Her knees give way and she slides down with her back against the door, all with the knowledge that her own suite is just across the corridor.

—

Sunday is all about the race. BTS is gone most of the day for PR that she’s not involved in, so Dilara takes the opportunity to ensure she has a clear head for the race. Last night involved a lot of introspection, a lot of crying and a lot of debriefing with Lexie, whom Dilara realises she misses the most. Even two continents away, Lexie’s primary focus was to help Dilara work through everything she needed to until she could compartmentalise it for the duration of the race.

It works, somewhat. Dilara goes for her interviews, her PR and the drivers’ parade with as much focus as she can and finally climbs into her for the race, adrenaline rushing through her veins and her focus singular. Taehyung’s good luck text (Good luck for today. Be careful. You’ll do great.) runs in her mind when she releases the clutch at the starting light.

Her flight to London isn’t until tomorrow morning, so after the race, Dilara heads back to her hotel and to the suite opposite her own. Jungkook opens the door and immediately welcomes her in.

“Good race,” he says as she slips in past him, noting a bowl of potato chips on the coffee table and a video game controller next to it. On the screen, a game of FIFA is paused.

“Thanks. Where’s everybody else?” she asks.

“Filming. I got sent back.” He rolls his eyes self-consciously when she frowns. “Had a bit of a heat stroke, so they told me to come back and rest.”

Dilara freezes. “What? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he huffs, falling into the sofa and motioning for her to join him. “It wasn’t a big deal. I just got a bit de- basically, I need to drink a lot of water. That’s it.”

“Huh.” She raises her eyebrows. “You got dehydrated in Singapore? Rookie mistake.”

Jungkook shrugs, a little defensively. “I’m fine. You want to play?” he asks, changing the subject.

She considers it for a moment but then shakes her head. “No, I’m too tired. You go ahead.”

“Come on, one game.”

“Fine.”

They play a game, a half-hearted one where Jungkook wins but fortunately doesn’t gloat. Much.

“You need practice,” he advises her when they’re done. “You’re making small mistakes.”

She flicks his forehead which he tries to dodge. “I’m exhausted. Racing in Singapore is no joke.”

“I believe you,” he says easily, ruffling her hair. “By the way,” he begins, “Taehyung has been acting a little… weird today. Did you two talk or something?”

Dilara sighs, knowing this would come up. “Or something,” she mutters. “If he was being a pain today, I apologise.”

“He wasn’t a pain. He was just quiet,” he clarifies. “I’m just asking because when you came here last night, it looked like you were about to kill him.”

Oh, right. She supposes it would’ve looked like that, out of context, to someone who didn’t know what transpired in her changing room. “Well, at least that didn’t happen.” A moment passes where Jungkook doesn’t say anything, and she sighs again. “He wants to get back together.”

Jungkook nods expectantly; this is clearly not a surprise to him. “What did you say?”

“Oh. Well -” She shrugs uncertainly. “I don’t remember actually. The topic kind of strayed.” She rubs a hand over her face. “It’s… not an easy topic. Or an easy decision. I mean,” she adds after a moment, mostly to herself, “he didn’t call me last weekend.”

He frowns at her. “I thought you told him not to -”

“Yes, my God, I know,” she says loudly, rolling her eyes. “He was doing what I wanted - big whoop for him. “I’m not complaining, I’m just… surprised.”

“Do you remember Austin last year?” Jungkook asks after a few moments. “When those guys were on a live and you, me and Jimin got really drunk while waiting for them?”

Dilara chuckles tiredly. “Of course. I haven’t had tequila since. Don’t think I ever will,” she adds, grateful for the change in subject. “We were so wasted.”

“We were,” he agrees, leaning back on the couch and placing his feet on the edge of the coffee table. “Do you remember when we snuck out to the chocolate shop in the lobby and bought those two huge boxes of -”

“Truffles! Yes!” she remembers suddenly, her memories of that night fairly hazy. “And we brought it upstairs in a… I want to say a pillowcase?”

“It was my hoodie. We wanted to hide it for some reason - who knows. Oh, do you remember you ran into someone at the shop? Yeah, it was this guy and he said you hadn’t seen each other in a while,” he recounts, seemingly not noticing Dilara’s smile fade. “I think he was - did he say he was your ex?”

A little unsure as to why he’s chosen to bring this up, she nods slowly. “Yeah. Kyle. Not a good break-up.”

“Yeah, I think you told me that, too, when we came back up to the room. Oh, remember how -” He chuckles, sounding a bit forced “- remember how when we were back you said you needed closure once and for all and you wanted to call him? I had to wrestle you for your phone because you were so drunk and I kept it on top of a shelf so you wouldn’t be able to reach it?” He grins at Dilara, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

She stares at him, her heart pounding. She does remember it, unfortunately, just as she remembers her relief the next morning and how she’d quietly asked Jungkook to return her phone to her, hoping with all her heart that this would stay between them. It would’ve been a terrible way to kick off her relationship with Taehyung; fortunately, Jungkook had never brought it up. Until now.

He’s no longer smiling; he’s biting his lip and looking at his feet, as though worried he’s crossed a line.

“I get it,” she says quietly. “I got really drunk and almost did something that could jeopardise my relationship, but lucky for me, I had you to stop me. Taehyung didn’t. Right?”

Jungkook doesn’t meet her eyes; but he looks a little less nervous, now that his point has been made.

“Do you think I don’t know what I’m capable of?” she asks. “Do you think I don’t know, after all this time, that he made a mistake? I’m not unreasonable - he had a lot to drink and he did something really, really stupid. I know that.”

It’s the first time she’s said it out loud and it’s cathartic. Her chest feels lighter; it doesn’t make her situation any easier, but at least it’s out there. It’s not just swimming in her mind anymore, keeping her up at night.

“I know,” she says slowly, “that he won’t cheat on me again. I think he’s learnt his lesson. I think I could put him in a sauna with Jennie - and literally any other girl - and ply him with all the alcohol in the world, and he wouldn’t cheat on me again. He cheated on me - but he’s not a cheater.”

Jungkook finally looks at her, frowning. “Then why -”

“Because he didn’t tell me,” she argues. “He messed up and he didn’t tell me because he was, what? Afraid of me? I told him things in twenty-four hours of knowing him that I haven’t told people I’ve known for years, and he’d done the same! I thought we could tell each other anything - even the worst, most shameful things. But he didn’t tell me,” she repeats.

He nods sympathetically, and Dilara finds herself being glad he isn’t defending his friend.

“He was afraid of me,” she repeats, shaking her head. “You know what it made me feel like? Like I was one of those wives or girlfriends in those dude-bro, frat boy, Seth Rogen movies where the guys are so afraid of them and go to these insane lengths to hide things from them, because they’re afraid they’ll have to sleep on the couch,” she says in disgust.

“I… don’t think he was afraid of you,” ventures Jungkook, sounding hesitant. “I think he was afraid of hurting you.”

“Fine,” she agrees. “Let’s say he was. What’s stopping him from being too afraid to hurt me again? If he ever messes up again,” she says, feeling like they’re finally reaching the crux of the issue, “how do I trust that he’ll tell me? He tried, this time, didn’t he? He was too late, but he tried. If he does something like this again, especially after everything I’ve put him through…” She sniffles. “I don’t think he’ll tell me at all.”

Silence greets this statement, and Dilara drops her face into her hands before sitting straight and taking a deep breath. She doesn’t want to cry in front of Jungkook; despite the level of comfort between them, she feels he’d still be the most uncomfortable around a crying girl.

“I’ll tell you.”

Dilara frowns, wondering if she’s heard him wrong. “What?”

“I’ll tell you,” he repeats, turning sideways on the couch so he’s facing her. “Look, he’s not going to mess up again. He’s not stupid - he won’t do it. And if he does,” he allows, shrugging, “he’ll tell you the truth. You said it yourself, he’s learnt his lesson. But,” he continues, gently nudging her shoulder with the back of his hand, “if he doesn’t, I’ll tell you.”

“JK -”

“I’m serious. I’ll do it.” He shrugs. “I won’t need to, but if I do, I will.”

“Jungkook.” Dilara tilts her head. “He’s your best friend.”

“You’re my friend, too,” he says simply.

“I -” She can’t argue with that; it would be too mean. “It doesn’t really solve my problem. I need to trust him.”

“And you can,” he insists. “This is just like a… what’s it called in English? Like when you have a back-up kind of thing -”

“Insurance.”

“Yes!” He claps his hands, making her jump. “Sorry. But, yes. This is just your insurance, kind of. If it ever happens again and he doesn’t tell you, then you know for sure that he’s a dick. And that you can just -” He makes a vague gesture “- move on.”

It’s a very Jungkook proposal. Impractical as it is, it’s the most convincing argument anyone has made so far. Dilara doesn’t know whether to be comforted or amused.

“Are you doing this for me or for Taehyung?”

“Can’t it be both?”

She narrows her eyes. “Cop-out.” When he grins, she rolls her eyes. “You would really do that to him? Betray his trust?”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide and she can practically see the dilemma in his brain. “I - well, it’s not really betraying him if he’s betraying you…? Right? I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I should’ve done that this year. Just… just told you.”

Dilara nods thoughtfully, searching for the grudge she was holding but unable to find it anymore. “It’s a big commitment,” she says seriously, relieved to see him smile again. “Sure you can live up to it?”

“Hey, I told you,” he says, turning back and sitting normally again. “I got your back.”

“Yeah, about that. Do all of those involve Jimin getting assaulted in some way? Because if yes, then I’m going to have to decline.”

“Assault? I barely touched him. He’s just so weak.”

“He is so weak. I swear, last year I pulled him into the elevator or something and he screamed like I’d ripped off his arm or something.”

“Jimin hyung is strong in the gym and on stage,” states Jungkook with an air of finality. “Other than that, he usually needs me or Namjoon hyung to help him out.”

“Weak.”

“So weak.”

Dilara grins, glad she chose to come over. Truth be told, she didn’t have a plan. She’d been hoping to talk to Taehyung and wing it from there, but nothing ever went according to plan for them. The possibility that he might have given up on them seems much less likely now, despite his efforts to still keep his distance all day and leave the ball in her court.

She looks over at Jungkook, who’s now scrolling through the different games on the Xbox for something they can play together. Jungkook hasn’t given up; for now, maybe that’s enough.

—

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