#bondy fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hunter-gatherer-11 · 4 months

Text

Sick (Bondi Rescue)

Prompt: Lachie is sick. Will, his "big brother" (roommate) is trying to force him to stay home, but when Lachie's sickness and fever spikes to the point where he's delusional, Will has to take him to the ER. And also, Hutz feels bad, because Hutz got him sick in the first place.

Warnings: Sick Lachie; Passing Out In The Shower; Delusional Sickness; Hospitals; Dangerous Fevers; Concerned Will Bigelow; Big Brother Will; Little Brother Lachie; Concerned Will; Guilty Harrison Reid.

Third Person POV

Lachie stared vacantly at his bedroom wall, trying to figure out if he could convince his roommate/older brother figure, Will, that he was good to work today. Lachie's chest was a little heavy, his breath a little wheezy, and he was feeling feverish, but he figured he'd just slept under the blankets too long. He sighed, chest rattling, and broke into a coughing fit as he tried to get up. He stumbled to his closet, grabbing a shirt, and Will appeared in the doorway. "What're you doing?" He asked. "Getting...a shirt?" Lachie frowned. "Why? You're not going in." "I am, though." "Nah, mate, think Hutz got you sick." "I'm fine."

Will gave him a flat look as Lachie coughed--again. "Will, it's a cough, that's a human thing to do, isn't it?" He grabbed some joggers (sweatpants) from his dresser before moving to the bathroom, hearing Will call, "Yes, but you're sick!"

Lachie ignored him, starting the shower and kicking the door shut, sighing and breaking into another coughing fit. He was really gonna kill Hutz. He'd had the flu last week and hadn't really realized it until he threw up, three times at work, and Hoppo literally forced Maxi to take the boy home. Not to mention Hutz almost passed out, in the ocean, twice. Stepping under the hot water, Lachie started feeling his muscles relax and groaned, tipping his head back. He must've blacked out or something, because he woke up to Will throwing the door open, grabbing Lachie's arms and slinging a towel around him. Lachie wasn't really aware of what was happening until Will managed to get him in some joggers. "What..." He blinked, seeing Will in front of him, holding his shirt. "You passed out, mate." Will said, his blue eyes dark with worry. "You know you're not supposed to tilt your head back, moron." Will shook his head, helping Lachie into the shirt. "Sorry," Lachie mumbled, feeling hazy. He started coughing, having to bend in half to breathe. "Lachie, hey. Why don't we just head to bed, yeah?" "Kay," Lachie whined, eyes shut. He had never remembered feeling this horrible since he was small, maybe six or seven.

Will got Lachie into bed, and Lachie passed out for a few hours. When he woke up, the sun was sinking below the horizon, and Lachie could hear a movie on the TV in the living room and a voice, not Will's, laughing. Frowning, he shakily got up, hoping not to collapse, but the way he swung his legs over the edge of the bed made his stomach churn, and he forced himself up, to run to the bathroom, barely making it over the toilet before everything came out. He couldn't breathe, and it was so gross. A hand rubbed his back slowly, and Lachie whined, trying to pull away. "Hey, just me." Will said, brushing Lachie's bangs back. Lachie groaned. It was so embarrassing to sit here, puking his guts up, as the older man stood there (despite Will having done it before). "Sorry," He coughed, and Will shook his head. "Don't apologize for being sick. Trust me, kid, I've seen way worse." He helped Lachie sit back, flushed the toilet, and helped him stand. He pulled a thermometer from the cabinet. "Here." Lachie sat there for a minute with the thermometer under his tongue until it beeped and Will winced, showing Lachie. "Gotta get that down." 102.4 read the tiny screen. Lachie sighed.

They entered the kitchen. Lachie wished, just for a moment, that he could sit and lean against Will, but it'd get the man sick. Hell, he was probably getting sick right now. Guilt churned in Lachie's gut at the thought. Will slid a plate over, with toast on it, and Lachie, totally spaced out, dropped his head with a heavy clunk on the table that made Will cringe and touch his back gently. "Don't hurt yourself," He said, but Lachie just whined softly, not lifting his head. "Hey. Eat this, then go to bed, okay?" Will said, and Lachie glared at the toast, wondering if it'd make him puke again. But he was really hungry, so he grabbed one, almost limp, and nibbled it slowly as Will cooked something. Suddenly, he frowned. His vision was spinning as well, and he couldn't breathe, like there was invisible sandbags on Lachie's chest. He frowned.

"Will," He said, but Will didn't hear him.

He stood, turning to go to his room. Maybe laying down would help, but the moment he stood, he felt lightheaded. "Will." He had enough time to say, a little louder, before his vision went white.

Will heard Lachie, and turned just in time to see the boy's eyes roll to the whites, like a freaky zombie movie, and crumple in a dead heap on the floor. "Lachie!" Will shouted, rushing to Lachie. The boy was unresponsive, pulse racing, and eyes fluttering under his bruise-colored eyelids. "Lachie, hey!" He shook Lachie's arm, but the boy only groaned. Will grunted as he lifted Lachie bridal-style and took him to his room. He knew passing out was generally a bad thing, but he figured, Lachie's sick, he probably stood up too fast. He tucked Lachie into the bed, feeling oddly like a parent for a moment (not that he minded) and rushed back to the kitchen so as not to burn what he was making.

Time Skip

Lachie woke up, not knowing where he was. He glanced around. The walls had posters on them, things he recognized, but...was this his room? He coughed, rolling over, and fought the nausea. "Hey." A guy said, coming in, and Lachie stared at him, confused. A memory tickled his brain. Did he know this guy? "Hi?" Lachie asked, startled. The guy stared at him. "You okay?" He asked. "I...I guess. Where..." He blinked, looking around, at the posters, the walls' "Is this my room?" The man was staring at him, concerned now. "Um...yeah. You live with me, remember?"

"No. I...think..." He could barely talk. He was also covered in sweat, felt hot around the face, and couldn't breathe. "I can't breathe," He whispered. The man swore, stepping closer and feeling Lachie's head. "Damn. Okay, um...I'll be right back." "Kay." Lachie mumbled, collapsing into his bed as the man left. Lachie knew he knew that guy, but the name wasn't there. Hadn't he worked with him before? Wait, what is my job? Lachie wondered. Aren't I...a lifeguard? At the ocean, I think. Bondi?

"Hey." The man was back. "Stick this under your tongue, and then we're gonna head to the hospital, okay? Whippet's coming to get us." "Whippet...?" "Yeah." Lachie allowed the guy to stick the thermometer under his tongue as he grabbed a hoodie. The thermometer beeped, showing 102.6. "Shit. Here, up."

The guy helped him dress in a warm hoodie, joggers, and sneakers, then helped him outside, where a man in a car was waiting. Slipping in the back and the other guy in the front, the blonde said to the driver, "He doesn't remember me, so I figured ER was the next step. Also, his fever was at 102.6 last time I checked. So hurry, please." Now the driver was looking at him. "Sure. Hey, Lachie. Ready?" "Sure?" Lachie frowned. He knew these people. He started mumbling, "I know them, I...Whippet..." He frowned, trying to place the names. Unknown to him, Will and Whippet were listening to his rambles.

"I'm...beach. I work at the beach. Ocean?" Lachie thought harder, his head pounding. "Bondi. Boss--Is my boss mad?" "No. No, he knows you're sick." Whippet shared an alarmed glance with Will. If Lachie ever talked about Hoppo, he said the name, not boss. Did Lachie remember Hoppo at the moment?

They arrived at the hospital, explaining everything to the nurse. When they got to his temp, she grabbed Lachie gently and led him back, but the men had to wait in the waiting room. For some reason, Lachie didn't want to go alone, so he glued himself to the man Whippet (was that his name?) had called Will. "Can he come?" the nurse shook her head. "He can come when we're done, alright?" Lachie looked sad but followed her.

He doesn't remember passing out, but he woke up with Whippet in a chair on the left, Will on the right. "Will?" Lachie asked, and both men looked up. "Hey, how are you feeling?" Will asked. "Better, I think. I'm...not as hot. And I can breathe." He mumbled, playing with the edge of the blanket. "That's good." Whippet smiled. "You scared us earlier." He said softly. "Why?" "You had no idea who we were, didn't know where you worked. Nothing." Will said. "Sorry." Lachie mumbled. "Don't be. We got you some help, that's all we needed." Just then, the doctor came in, and he smiled, seeing Lachie awake. "Mr. McArthur, hello." He said. "Lachie," the boy said, and the doctor nodded. "Lachie," he corrected. "How do you feel? You still feel sick, any pain?" "No." "Good! So, our plan was to keep you overnight, just to be sure, but you are improving rapidly, so we'll give it a few more hours and then, if you're still looking good, we can send you home. Sound okay?" "Yeah." Lachie said, yawning. "Good!" The doctor turned to Will, saying something, as Lachie dropped off into sleep again.

Time Skip

"Lachie!" Jake crowed when Lachie walked into the Tower on Sunday. Lachie grinned as the others smiled, greeting him. "Hi," He said, and Hutz, when their eyes connected, glanced away quickly, guilt etched on his face. Will had informed the team (or Whippet did--either way, they knew) about Lachie's ER trip, so Lachie knew that Hutz felt bad. He sat next to the Kiwi on the desk. "Don't feel bad, okay?" "I-I'm not--" "You are. I can see it. So what if I ended up in the ER and you didn't? You didn't wanna get me sick." Hutz shrugged. "I guess." "Love you, mate." Lachie smiled, flicking Hutz's forehead. Hutz laughed. "Yeah, love you, too."

6 notes · View notes

peterpparkour · 2 years

Photo

Chip | Dundee | Barry (VP) | Pez | Collin

#barry benson #bbmc #Bondi Boys #bondi boys motor club #nopixel #nopixel 3.0 #gta rp #mine #mine np #bondi boys up good but man do i miss the barry dundee dynamic #not me writing a fic of dundee haunting barry as a bird #i cant explain that thought i just think itd be funny #im sadder im badder im cooler yeah then i was when i met you 🎶 barry anthem atm 😂

27 notes · View notes

bullforgery · 2 years

Photo

Occupied One Time on AO3

Dundee pushes himself up into Barry's eyeline, grabbing Barry's thigh for leverage, and the car swerves dangerously. Barry knots his hand into Dundee's hair and pushes him into his lap as he straightens the car. Dundee laughs and arranges himself on Barry's lap again, but he finally notices. He tries not to draw attention to it as he shuffles around and brings a hand up under his head. He rests his elbow against Barry's stomach and purposefully takes up as much space as possible between Barry and the steering wheel. He plays with the drawstrings of his hoodie, running it between his fingers and popping it into his mouth when he catches Barry looking.

The HSV is indeed a special vehicle.

#bbmc #bondi boys motor club #bbmc fic #nopixel #did I forget that the HSV in the fic was blue and also Dougie's? yes.#am I going to change the colour and plate of this HSV? no.

4 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 14 days

Note

Ohh, Snail, now I can't stop thinking about you writing that Corazon x AussiReader idea from the fanart you rebloged. Poor sweet baby 🥺 dealing with giant spiders and cute feral angry koalas, nooo, Cora, don't try to hug them, they may look cute, but they will eat your face 😱

Rosinante's Trip Down Under

Masterlist Here

Oh my goodness, Miss Vita! How gorgeous is it, though? Art by @rainnartt (CHECK OUT THEIR OTHER ART, IT'S AMAZING!!)

Synopsis: Modern AU, Rosinante visiting your hometown in Queensland Australia. He is overwhelmed by the cultural differences, but loves to learn the slang.

I did go a little crazy in the tags, definitely ran away with me a little here.

Could you imagine, though? As an Australian, I can confirm: if it looks like it can kill you, it can kill you. If it looks like it can’t kill you, it absolutely can kill you. Our poor, clumsy man never stood much of a chance, did he?

In this picture, he looks like could be in Bondi, the Gold Coast or Surfers Paradise by the looks of it. I am going to put him in the Queensland region for the sake of the plot. This is how I see it going.

Drabble Fic Word Count: 1,800+

Themes: rosinante x gn!reader, platonic fic, crack fic, modern au, reader is Australian, Rosinante is Spanish, Au he lives.

Tag list: @since-im-already-here @i-am-vita @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @remisloves @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine

Taking your new friend Donquixote Rosinante to your favorite sights in Surfers Paradise. His eyes widen in wonder, staring at sights that come so naturally to you, but are so out of the norm for him. You are happy to play tourist in your hometown, marveling at the sights as he experiences them for the first time.

Outside of your local McDonalds and picking up a common comfort breakfast food for his adult adoptive son, who elected to remain back at home in the hotel as he adjusts to the time difference, Rosinante’s shriek prompted you to turn to meet him.

“What the hell is that?” he remarks, extending his pointer finger towards the large waste bin adjacent to the doorway.

“Oh, that’s a skip, Corazon. The red is for rubbish,” you continue, pointing at the other bin, “The yellow lid is for recyclables, and the green is for food and biodegradable-.”

“No! The thing with the massive beak!” he shrieks, watching as the dark-head bird pokes its head above the bin. The large hooked beak elevates a half-consumed cheeseburger before it gulps down the burger in a single motion.

“Oh!” you laugh at your blonde friend, clapping a hand over his shoulder, “That’s an ibis. We call them ‘bin chickens’ or ‘tip chooks’ depending on your region. They’re scavengers, they won’t hurt you.”

“A bin chicken, skip bin,” he hums, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he commits the name to memory, “And you call McDonalds ‘Macca’s’, right?”

“That’s right,” you hum your confirmation with a curt nod. He hums in response before ushering you along the pathway towards the hotel.

As you continue walking along the sandy coastline, you notice he’s halted outside a petrol station. A large truck is parked beside the building: checkered blue and white painted on it’s side and large font titled “POLICE” and “0.05: DRUGS”.

“Is this your local law enforcement?” he asks you, tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah, that’s our local booze bus parked next to a divvy van,” you nod in affirmation, “They do regular drug and alcohol testing for drivers to ensure their safety on the road. Weird that they’re outside of a servo, though. Usually they’re on the main roads.” He nods his head and hums.

“Booze bus. Divvy Van,” he looks over to the petrol station, arching his brow high, “Servo?”

“I know, it’s a lot,” you confirm with an apologetic smile, “I promise it gets easier to adapt to the slang the longer you practice.” He nods again.

Passing a local park with a children’s play area, you manage to see your friend David from work, his two children playing together on the looped climbing frames and plastic slide.

“Davo!” you call out to him, waving your unoccupied hand in front of you - considering the other contains a paper bag filled with the fruits of your labor.

“How the bloody hell are’ ya goin’, Darl’?!” his nasally voice cracked to you, “Who’s the fella ya got there with ya?” You smile at him, walking to embrace him.

“This is Rosinante Corazon, the friend I mentioned was visiting from Spain,” you informed him, “How’s the missus back at home? How’s the kids?”

“Mate! Howzit goin’?” he extended his hand out to Rosinante, who placed his hand within and gave it a gentle shake who mumbled a soft ‘pleased to meet you’ in response.

“Ah, and the ankle biters are doin’ great. Givin’ the missus a bit of a reprieve here at the park, tough gig bein’ an ambo driver.” He glanced over his shoulder at his children, ensuring they were safe now they’ve climbed to an elevated height.

“Oh I’m glad she’s managing to take a break. She’s a tough lady,” you nod to him, smiling over at the two children who wave at you while playing with a make-shift telescope.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you,” he confesses, gesturing down to the brown bag clutched in your hands, “Don’t want that brekky gettin’ cold now, do we?” You laugh at him, waving him off before waving at his children.

Rosinante remained silent, only muttering a few words that stood out to him: “Darl’, fella, mate, missus, ankle biters, ambo driver, brekky,” on a perpetual loop.

“You okay there, Rosi?” you quirk up at him, a soft smile pulling at your cheeks.

“I’m alright, Darl,” he attempted, his voice falling to his nose and emulating the accent he heard moments prior, “Is that a common term of endearment here? ‘Darl’ and ‘mate’? How do you go with gender neutral titles?”

“Both of those titles can be used interchangeably, regardless of gender,” you inform him, “It all depends on context and the way you say it.” he hums again, nodding along and muttering several phrases he learnt. He reaches into the circular cup cardboard and pulls out his coffee and takes a small sip.

Your feet finally carry your way over to the lobby of the hotel where he was staying with Law, his body immediately halting in front of the surf, dive and ski shop. His head cocked to the side, staring at the large, rectangular basket outside the shop. You follow his line of sight, which remained locked on to a large, canvas sign attached to the basket.

“Ah,” you click your tongue, noticing they’re focussed on a common shoe worn in this area, “Do you and Law need a new pair of thongs? I know the bottoms melt a little when the bitumen gets a bit hot.”

“You want me and Law to wear what?” he turned towards you with his eyes wide and jaw dropped. It took a moment for you to understand the miscommunication, your eyes growing wide and your nervous laughter propelling your anxiety further.

“No, no, no, no, no!,” you managed to choke out, “No, we call ‘flip-flops’ ‘thongs’ here. Is that what had you a little confused? A basket full of shoes where you thought lingerie should be?” Rosinante laughed alongside you, shaking his head from side to side.

“You got me,” he chuckled, raising his coffee to his lips once more, “Our differences are quite vast, aren’t they?”

“I suppose they are,” you acknowledge with a shrug and a broad, tight-lipped smile. He hums once again, muttering several phrases as you step into the elevator.

Clicking the button to the appropriate floor, the doors open wide to reveal the carpeted corridor of the hotel room. You offer to hold the coffee tray in your unoccupied hand as Rosinante clumsily attempts to fish out his key-card from his pocket. He thanks you, his hand getting stuck in his pocket as he shimmies his shoulders to break it out.

Finally clutching the key card, he places it in the door and swings it wide to reveal Law sitting on the plush bench beside the large window. His left knee was bent, his right leg extended as he reclined against the window. His gray orbs draw away from watching the gentle crash of waves towards you both as you enter the suite.

Before you had a moment to greet the younger man, Rosinante’s broad grin and best nasally voice interrupted your train of thought. Rosinante gently took the brown paper bag from your hands and offered it to his son.

“Howzit goin’, Darl’! Brought you some Brekky from Maccas!” he walked forwards, thrusting the bag into Law’s hands, “Saw a bin chicken eating some scraps from the red skip, and passed a booze bus outside the servo on the way back.”

Law chose to remain silent, wordlessly taking the brown bag from Rosinante and maintaining unbreaking eye contact. Rosinante took that as his queue to continue relaying his adventure.

“Saw Davo being a good fella at the park with his ankle biters, his missus has been working hard as an ambo driver,” he continued, biting his lip as he attempted to relay the trip back to his absolutely unamused son, “Then we passed a shop on the way up. Was gonna get us a pair of matching thongs for the trip, but thought you would get embarrassed to be matching with your Dad.”

Law’s fingers stuttered their descent into the bag, choosing to take a lengthy breath instead.

“Dad?” Rosinante quirked his head up, turning to look at you over his shoulder. You were doing your best to stifle your laughter by clutching your lip in your palm, “Do you still call parents ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ here? Is there an Aussie term of endearment he could use for me instead?”

“‘Cunt’ comes to mind,” Law murmured, prompting Rosinante to snap his head back over to his son. His heart shattered as Law drew up a hashbrown and began nibbling at its golden exterior.

“L-Law-?” Rosi’s heartbreak was depicted in the quiver in his tone. You walk over to your friend’s side and offer him his forgotten coffee with a smile.

“-Rosinante,” you broke him away from his sorrow with a soft giggle, “‘Cunt’ is also a term of endearment here. Law and I had a little conversation about cultural clashes last night when we were playing cards. You fell asleep early, remember?”

“It is my favorite Australian term of endearment,” Law admitted with a soft hum, reaching up his outstretched hand to wordlessly ask for a coffee, “But your insults are far better. Quite original.”

“Okay, Champ,” you mock Law, passing him his cup of coffee, “Big words coming from a guy with a face like a smashed crab.”

“Coming from a Drongo with the personality of a dropped meat pie,” Law smirked in return, taking the cup from your hands. Your joint laughter ricocheted from the hotel walls, prompting Rosinante’s prior sour mood to pick back up.

As you all ate your brekky in comfortable silence, you gazed out onto the beach below. Law followed your eyes, looping at the large swell of the waves. The choppy waves crashed against the golden waves, the vendors beginning to set up their canopies to sell their wares along the boardwalk.

“You did well, Rosinante,” you complimented the tall, blonde man, “Using our words in the appropriate context, I mean.” Rosinante smiled at you, placing his paper rubbish in the brown paper bag.

“Thank you, Mate,” he said with a soft wink, “I appreciate the praise for my efforts.”

“No wakkas, makka,” you smile at him with a shrug. Both men quip their head up, their ears pricking and confusion written on their face.

“We’ll get into that later, I guess,” you chuckle at the two of them as their confusion deepens.

The large Australian crowd began to take out their surf and boogie boards, set up nets for volleyball, and their wickets for beach cricket. The variety of populus below in various designs bathers, placing sunscreen on their bodies to protect from the deadly UV rays.

“Beach day?” you ask them, smile drawing up over your features once more.

“Beach day,” Rosinante nods in confirmation, excited to learn more slang and cultural differences as the day broadens its rays over the oceanic backdrop.

#one piece #x reader #modern au #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #trafalgar law #op law #op rosinante #op corazon #rosinante x reader #platonic fic #australian slang #law x reader #op x reader #one piece fluff #ask snail #snail answers

74 notes · View notes

zensations35 · 1 month

Text

Watch My Back (Haz/bin)

WELP I didn't think I'd be whumping the short king before my deer boi but HERE WE ARE. I blame @instarsandcrime for my newfound simping after this absolute disaster of a man 🥵🥵🥵 and this got INDULGENT LET ME TELL YOU. Now, enjoy this fic based on a prompt by my aforementioned friend, where Alastor plays bodyguard to Lucifer and finds out Mr. Silly has a holy wound (and then unFoRtuNatELy gets whumped by the author). ;)

“Must I?”

Charlie gazes dolefully up at the Radio Demon, hands clasped in what some people (not Alastor of course) would call prayer.

“Pleeeease, Alastor?” she begs. She doesn’t ask for a lot, but this request seems…well. Strange. Really? A bodyguard for her father? Fathomless.

He sighs, bandwidth crackling. “Very well, though I really don’t see the necessity for it. Your father is quite capable of taking care of himself, you know.”

Behind them, Lucifer picks up a glass trinket between two sharp fingers to examine it, his mouth crooked and casual. As if connected to it by a wire, Niffty’s crimson hair stands on end. She all but teleports to Lucifer, startling him so suddenly, he drops the trinket, shattering it so it’s shards fan across the hard floor.

“Noooo!” Niffty bursts into tears, her tiny arms scrabbling to scoop up the pieces. “My new boyfriend got me that!” she wails.

Alastor hums. “On second thought, perhaps he could no sooner care for himself than tie his own shoelaces.”

Charlie resists the urge to smack him. “Alastor, you have to be nice.”

“Mm~ I’ve already agreed to help you. Let’s not push the limits of my capabilities.”

Charlie hurries off to give the news to her father while Alastor swaggers toward an empty table propped flush against a wall. Niffty hadn’t finished decorating this one, but Alastor has quite the idea for it anyway. He was just fluffing the long white petals when the pouting visionary of Hell stomps over.

His gaze crawls over the perennial plant and he scowls harder. “What are these?”

“Lilies! Aren’t they swell? I thought you’d appreciate some charm during your stay, oh esteemed one,” Alastor’s voice is sticky with sarcasm.

Lucifer scowls at the sadistically named plant. He sucks on his lips and Alastor suppresses a chuckle.

“Are you displeased, sir?”

“Hm, what?” Lucifer blinks out of his wayward thought. “No, of course not,” he thumps his cane on the plush carpet. “Do whatever. I don’t c--hiih!”

Lucifer jerks away, eyes pinched. He dips down with a strange, “IkPFShw!” The jerk of his limbs strikes a bronze anteater figurine and, again, sends the trinket crashing to the floor to break into pieces.

“NOOO!” Niffty screeches, flying to its rescue. “My other boyfriend made that for me!”

Lucifer’s fingers squeeze his moist cheeks and he sniffles thickly. “I…I do apologize, little one. I--”

She rears back and kicks him in the ankle. “You’re the wrong kind of bad boy!”

Lucifer grunts as she skitters away with the pieces tucked into the balloon of her apron.

Alastor smothers a snicker at his expense, antlers lengthening just a tick.

“Well,” Lucifer draws the word out, adjusting his crooked bowtie, ignoring the flush in his own cheeks. “I have errands to run--”

Charlie suddenly appears in the doorway as if the word ‘errands’ manifested her.

“You’re leaving?”

Lucifer’s lip forms a triangular frown. “I, uh,” his cheek feathers, “Sweetie, I have to make appearances now that I’m not…”

“Self isolating for years on end, with only negative self talk as your social activity, and trying to get through it by throwing yourself whole ass into repetitive passion projects that seem fulfilling at the time but end up not meeting your expectations just like your own self image?” Angel calls from the bar.

Everyone stares at the puffy porn star. Husk rolls up a newspaper and smacks him hard upside the head.

“Ow!”

Lucifer scratches his jaw anxiously. “Uh, yeah. That.”

Charlie masks her disappointment with a glimmering smile. “Well! I’m sure that will be a great bonding exercise for you and Alastor!”

The two men exchange wilted looks.

“Sshhhhhure sweetie!” Lucifer faux beams. He straightens his tophat and pats his thigh at Alastor as if coaxing a dog. “Come on attendant. Pip pip!”

Alastor’s teeth grind, smoke trailing as he follows behind the shorter King.

“Have fun!” Charlie waves her whole arm after them, fangs flashing in her winning smile. “Make good choices!!”

The bar Lucifer goes to is on the edge of the pentagram. The outside is brown brick partially crumbling but held together with thick, gristly magic. A scarred bouncer with gills and an oval mouth allows them in without a word.

Inside, the music is surprisingly tolerable. No thumps and booms, no bleats and drops like clubs Vox would have dragged Alastor to.

It’s…refreshing.

Lucifer makes a beeline for a corner clear of furniture but thick with an assortment of hellborn rulers and a few overlords. He must be making those appearances…

To Alastor’s right, a sinner catches his eye. A silver-haired demon with long rabbit ears and a plaited braid. Her features are guarded and soft with youth. She holds an empty glass, bone dry. A purple nail taps the rim, her eyes fixed on the bottom but not really seeing it.

Alastor pauses at the young woman, fingers curling tightly around his cane. The youth’s dull eyes flick to his and her soul bares for a fleeting moment.

Fear. Abuse. Mangled by hands more powerful and more able-bodied than she.

Alastor feels his blood ignite, his fangs sharpen with desire for vengeance.

The youth flinches, reacting to Alastor’s anger, not knowing the cause.

A faraway sound skirts the edge of his rage, strangely familiar, a twisting of lips and grating throat.

The sound snaps Alastor’s rage into shards and he blinks himself back into the noise around him. He circles toward the bar, moseying his way through the greasy crowd and leans in to hum statickly at the barkeep.

“Serve that young woman anything she wishes,” he gestures to the silver haired sinner.

The barkeep grunts, “She's gonna wait her turn.”

The Radio Demon growls, his height and timbre climbing several inches. “Apologies…I was not clear.” His claws cut jagged lines into the wooden counter. “I meant Ń̷̤̫̎̄̽͆̈̏͐͜O̶̭͂̃͑̚W̶̧̡͙͍̊́͆̾̚͠”

The barkeep swallows and nods. And moves to obey.

Now, where the fuck is his highness?

Lucifer has buried himself in the cloud of sinners and hellborn. Alastor doesn’t recognize some of them. He doesn’t move in those circles--not for lack of trying.

They’re chittering away like warbling fowls.

‘So and so! Good to see you!’

‘It’s been too long!’

‘How are things on your side of the pit?;

‘Still tormenting in the ancient methods?’

‘Have you seen the big guy in charge?’

‘Oh he’s still jacking off to his thunderbolts AH HAH HAAA’

Dreadfully boring.

One of the more vibrant hellborn cracks a joke and Lucifer tosses his head back in laughter. It sounds fake as fuck.

Something slips under Alastor’s foot, giving him pause. It’s the scent--something venerated and familiar...

He looks down and sees a spatter of gold dotting the grimy tile, with a larger puddle at the tip of his shoe.

Curious, Alastor taps his cane to the floor, leveraging himself so he can kneel. He bends low enough to dip a claw over the silken, rippling surface.

As soon as his skin warms with the liquid, his nerves purr. The buzz tingles up his body and he shivers violently.

His throat crackles, “Hvv٨ﮩSH٨ـﮩZh!”

Smoke mists from him and he wrenches away from the puddle, wiping his hand on the end of his coat. Hmph. A strange enigma…

His ears twitch, picking up another trill of laughter from the gaggle surrounding Lucifer. How long is he going to put up this farce?

Alastor watches the king of Hell intently and recognizes uneasiness in his firelit eyes. Definitely a veneer, batting away personal inquiries and distracting with jokes or redirecting by asking after the speaker.

Oh, clever bitch he thinks he is. Alastor sees right through him. The Radio Demon hones in on the audio, intent now on eavesdropping.

“...majesty,” a thatchy demon gurgles, boisterously laughing along with a large forked claw grasping his square belly. “How’s the wife?”

Lucifer’s smile slips, brief, and the gleam in his eyes dim. “Oh, fine, fine. Beautiful as ever, of course. And how is your partner? Are you still dating the Y2K virus?”

The square demon barks a laugh. “Oh, no no no. We broke up ages ago. Toxic as fuck. Noooo, I’m dating Vine now. You wouldn’t believe the cosplay sex--”

Lucifer slaps his chest and gasps. “Vine died??”

Alastor groans. What the fuck are they talking about?

Lucifer suddenly makes a jerking motion, mirrored by a violent squeak. Alastor’s heart races when he sees the King wince and bend in what looks to be a pained twist.

Fuck! Is he actually being attacked? Alastor vanishes in a cloud of spindly shadow, reappearing next to Lucifer and spurring shocked gasps from a few of the rulers in the group.

“Your highness,” the Radio Demon titters, with as much respect as he can fucking muster.

“H-hgxPST!” Lucifer’s raspy sneeze bursts into a squeezed fist, startling Alastor, who hesitates his next sentence.

Was he wrong? Did he overreact and now he came to Lucifer’s rescue over…a fucking sneeze? Rrrgh. Shame sharpens his claws around his microphone and anger shortly follows. How does this asshole even sneeze without a nose??

Lucifer scrubs his face with his palm and lets out a ridiculous whoop.

“Hooo! Sorry about that! Didn’t mean to scare ya, buddy,” he jabs Alastor with his elbow as if they were best friends. Alastor’s teeth powder with the effort of restraint.

“No worries your hig̵͐h̶̘̕n̴̡̕e̴s̵͛٨ـs.” his smile climbs nearly into his eyes. “I am here to serve.” He hooks his arm under Lucifer’s, linking elbows so the King cannot escape and dragging him away, ignoring the startled protests of the shorter man.

Alastor stops when he arrives at the golden droplets and releases Lucifer before tapping his cane on the floor. “Have you seen this?” he asks, cracking his neck to the side inquisitively.

Lucifer rubs his finger over his chin and hrms.

“Ah, well,” he shrugs, barely looking at Alastor, “Someone must have spilled ambrosia I suppose.”

Alastor’s brows shoot up. “Ambrosia? What, may I ask, is that?”

He didn’t think it was possible for someone so ceramically pale to whiten further, but Lucifer seems to do just that. “Ahhhmmm, nevermind…” Lucifer’s fingers brush the hem of his suit and his face crimps. He clears his throat and slithers away.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Alastor scoffs. Even if he might have been wrong about the sneeze, there’s a chance he isn’t. And his gut is telling him something’s amiss. He’s not about to let this asshole swan off alone. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I was charged with your care, your grace. I have a duty, you see~”

Lucifer’s eyebrow twitches, annoyance painting his face with a flush. “I assure you, I can use the fucking restroom by myself,” he gives a fangy smirk.

“In a dump like this?”

“Alastor, leave me the fuck. Alone.”

Before Alastor can press further, Lucifer does indeed swan off. The door to the restroom clips shut, separating him from the King.

What a dramatic wretch. Well, a door won’t stop a demon. A clattering rap with the back of Alastor’s hand causes a thump from within followed by a vexed, “Occupied!”

“Obviously. Yet I am entering regardless.” Alastor grips the warm knob. It rattles, hinges reisting as Lucifer’s protests grow increasingly less convincing.

“I’m--hhh! I’m fi--Ihh! Hii! XSH! Ehk’SHHh-HieWW!”

Yeah fucking right. Alastor better fucking get in there or Charlie will have a field day with rainbow sprinkles.

A flurry of sound, thudding and grunts of…is he in pain? God dammit! Miserablefuckingcocksuckingpieceof--

Finally the door wrenches open. Alastor wades inside and a wash of humid air hits his skin, making him cringe. Lucifer is bent over the white marble sink, heaps of tan paper towels littering the counter, some having fluttered around his feet dark and anointed with a glittering substance.

His face is currently wrapped in the crook of his elbow and his shoulders shudder with heaving breaths, “IX’SHWW! HF’pSHW!” His sleeve absorbs most of the sound but it still sounds truly dreadful, “Nghh…”

Alastor grumbles disapprovingly, “I am starting to suspect you’re lying, sir.”

Lucifer’s hat lies to the side, top down and limp, as well as his cane. A clawed hand grips the sawed edge of the counter, the King holding himself steady as he shakes with the effort of his labored breaths.

“I told you,” his voice is low and serious now, no hint of his playful kinder. “To stay. Out.” Something drips on the tile next to him. The same liquid Alastor saw before--raw, angelic blood.

“So you did take a blade.”

Lucifer growls, moving his hand to cover the wound, but all he ends up doing is smearing his clothes slick with the gleaming fluid.

Alastor tuts, “You should have told me, you know.” He sets his cane against the wall and moves closer to Lucifer, stretching his arm out toward the injured side.

Lucifer lashes out, grasping his wrist with his free hand, “Don’t.”

The Radio Demon pauses, staring into his haunted eyes.

“The blood will…affect you.”

“A-hah! You think I care?”

“I think you put yourself first. I think you’d love to see me wither here if it keeps your pompous ass safe.”

Alastor grimaces and yanks away from his weak grasp. In an electric snap, Lucifer’s shirt is bunched in his fist and he is pulling the King in close. He speaks in static, voice measured and quicksilver cruel.

“Your assumption that I have an agenda would be correct, m̴y̶ ̷͋K̸i̴ng̶̈͗. And it does not involve you dying.”

Lucifer’s chest inflates but he doesn’t retaliate.

Alastor releases Lucifer, features retracting with his mood. “Now, let’s see this wound.”

“There’s nothing you can do for it,” Lucifer mutters as he painfully shirks his jacket.

“Your capacity for being misguided is astounding,” Alastor drums his fingers on the counter, claws clacking. “Show me.”

The jacket falls to the floor and the wound is fully revealed: twin slashes crisscrossing his side, a glossy expanse of wounds just below his left rib.

“And these wounds cause you to…?”

Lucifer massages the circle of his cheek with a sigh, “I’m just…not handling it well.”

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“Not…not so much--I--” his face falls and air corckscrews through his teeth, “Ng-Eh’KPSH!! EiiSHH-iieuww!”

His wound flares bright with the gilded liquid and Alastor seals his lids against the blinding light.

“Alright,” Alastor moves closer, positioning himself to spread his hands above the slit of seeping light. Lucifer watches with interest as the Radio Demon’s eyes gleam black like the shells of tiny beetles. Runes pop and fizzle over the glowing shreds.

Lucifer’s eyes widen as he watches the runes morph and vellicate. “What magic--”

“Quiet.”

“But, those runes. I know--”

“I said silence٨ـ.”

“No, Alastor. Where the fuck--”

Alastor wrenches back, magic dissipating, but his eyes remain inky with rage. His fist slams against the wall, cracking a line in the frail plaster. “You and I both know your idiot act is just that! An act. You know exactly what I can do, so stay still and quit prattling.”

The lilies.

Lucifer’s lips guppy open and closed. “Your deal. It was…”

Alastor grunts, frustration rippling the bandwidth of his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t want to be healed.”

He pushes his own sleeves up to the bend of his elbows, anchoring them to his forearms. Then, he pinches the hem of his pinstripe coat and tears it in a full around strip. His pupils float toward the King’s body, hesitant. Static clings to the air as he nears the wound.

Lucifer flinches instinctively. “I’m warning you, it will--”

“Affect me, yes yes. I’ve touched angel blood before.”

“I’m an archangel, Alastor.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. Will he just shut the fuck up already?

The Radio Demon presses the cloth against the holy wound, adhering it instantly. Lucifer’s skin is hot like a freshly lit fire. Alastor feels the effect of the pale poison straightaway. He clamps his jaw, brow creasing as his skin beads with sweat.

Lucifer winces, claws carving slits into the counter. As Alastor works the strip around his midsection, his teeth grind against the shudders of breath battling in his throat.

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Shut ũ̷̼͆̇͑̈̄́́̏̉̚̕͝͝ͅp̴̰̪͎̲̲̗͎͝. Alastor’s voice crackles.

Lucifer's lip wobbles. “Hvvv-nn!” a hiss of indrawn air.

“Don’t do that now.”

“It’s not my hhhih choice!”

“Can’t you just--”

“He-eih KSHHieeψ!” The filaments buzz within the light bulbs, flickering them into darkness and then back into squinting light. As Lucifer wracks forward, it jostles Alastor’s hands and breaches his careful conservation, smearing his wrists with gold.

He dips back, chin tilting as his throat buzzes with a snap of energy. “Hhh--ehhh-HH!”

“Dammit, Alastor--”

“Too late--hhh-for tha-HH٨ـZZT٨ـY!” He pushed his fist to his nose, using pressure against the damp rim of his nostrils to chase away the itch. Not to any measure of success. “HK! ﮩ٨ـﮩZZ!” A wail grates in Lucifer’s ear and he recoils.

“You’re making it worse,” Lucifer twists with a grunt, grabbing some of the towels to clean Alastor’s cheek.

“I don’t--hih-nn eed…”

“Heaven alive can we both stop with this cocky bullshit. Truce, okay? Or would you rather spend all day in here sneezing with me?”

R̷͕̪̤̈́̓r̸̳̻̕͠rg̵̡̞͊̔͝ẖ̷͉͋̐jh̵̜͇̦͐̉ Alastor saws at his face, each motion crackling with energy. “Very well, get it over hhhhﮩ٨ـﮩ-! With.”

Lucifer works with the towels to wipe away the smears while Alastor finishes knotting the makeshift bandage. Once they’re done they both pull back with twin sniffles and a bucket of awkwardness in the empty air.

Alastor shunts his gaze, ignoring the gnawing in his chest. Lucifer cleans up the scattered flaxen towels and starts burning them until their ashes film the ground. The scent of honey and seeded mulch fills the room, like no bonfire Alastor had ever attended.

Four papers remaining, Lucifer finally speaks.

“How do the humans handle it?”

Alastor knits his brow. “Handle what?”

“Losing. Over and over.”

Alastor’s lips press firm. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Lucifer finally looks at him then, his mouth a small circle. He doesn’t pursue. He flicks the last of the ash off his fingers and sucks in a breath.

“Well,” his orange eyes meet the Radio Demon’s, “shall we head back? Tell Charlie we had a…bonding exercise?”

Alastor laughs. It’s more real than he’d laughed in…ages. “Details aside?”

Lucifer offers a genuine, if modest smile. “Agreed.”

57 notes · View notes

sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 7 months

Text

chapter 8.

Note: as I needed a break from writing the Dead Man fic yesterday and today, I was in need of my silly little fighter!Sihtric, because his story isn't over yet. Other Fighter chapters are in my masterlist.

Warnings: fluff, suggestive, little bit of angst. mention of alcohol/getting drunk, Sihtric's breeding kink.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Sihtric became a whole different man after his retirement, and not in a way you had expected.

wordcount: 4,1k

Masterlist

'I think I need to remind you who I am.'

'Gods,' Sihtric groaned.

You looked up from your book, annoyed, having read the same page five times already, as your man kept distracting you. Sihtric leaned with both hands against the glass window of your hotel room, shirtless while wearing black swimming trunks, overlooking Bondi beach. Him being constantly shirtless has been the only pleasant thing so far, ever since you arrived at the hotel room yesterday morning, which you had only left for breakfast, lunch and dinner… in the hotel itself.

'It's so fucking hot,' he whined.

'What did you expect?' you glared at your husband from the bed, 'it's Australia.'

You rolled your eyes just before Sihtric turned to face you.

'Yeah, well, I thought everyone always exaggerated,' Sihtric huffed.

It was only two in the afternoon, and Sihtric had been getting on your nerves for hours already. You loved your husband, more than anything, but ever since he retired from his fighting career about a month ago, he had changed. Sihtric clearly always used his job as a way to channel his bloodlust, so to speak, but since he had given it up for you, not even punching a bag or a sparring partner anymore, he had been incredibly hard to be around. He was constantly complaining about everything and he was even more hot headed than ever before. Sihtric was also much hornier than ever before, which you didn't even know was possible and hadn't been a problem back home, but it is a problem now. He had been so determined to go to Australia with you, where the heat was unbearable this time of year, so it was even too hot to have sex. And when your already short fused husband couldn't get it on with you, because the weather made you both feel slow and lightheaded, he became even more insufferable to be around, you found out.

'Look,' you said, taking a deep breath as you closed your book, 'you were so pushy about going here, and now we're here. Will you at least pretend to enjoy it?'

Sihtric stared at you, with dark eyes and his jaw clenched, which told you he felt provoked by you. Which also meant he was getting turned on, while you started to lose your patience with him and his behaviour.

'I didn't even want to go here,' you sighed, 'I'm here for you, Siht, okay? If we're going to sit on our fucking asses all day in a hotel room, because it's so fucking hot,' you mocked Sihtric's voice, 'then what the hell are we doing here in the first place?! Such a waste of money,' you muttered.

'You're mocking me?' Sihtric asked, his voice low and calm, but the fire in his eyes burned heavily as his mismatched pair were still locked on you.

'God!' you yelled and jumped up, 'you're absolutely unbelievable lately! You keep complaining about the heat, in fucking Australia! So, yeah, maybe I am mocking you!' you hissed.

You walked into the hallway of your hotel suite and grabbed your flip flops, as well as your bag, wanting to leave the room before you'd climb the walls, or worse; hear another dumb complaint coming out of your man's mouth. But Sihtric was quick to corner you, like he had done that very first time you ever met, during his intake at your office. His chest heaved up and down steadily, with big breaths, and he stared down at you with his silly intimidation tactic.

'You raise your voice at me?' Sihtric breathed as you rolled your eyes.

His eyes darted between your lips and your eyes, before he eyed you up and down completely. He liked that little summer dress you had on. And he had definitely loved the sight of you bending over in it to pick a pen up from the floor, which he deliberately dropped before he had leaned back on the bed about an hour ago, waiting for you to notice the seemingly innocent pen, that had probably rolled off the desk. Unaware of Sihtric's trick, you had picked up the pen before you went to read your book, not long after he set his plan in motion, and he had been horny ever since, but even the airco didn't cool off your room, he thought, which left him frustrated.

'Hm?' Sihtric hummed and took your chin, firm but gentle, forcing you to look up at him, 'you mock me and raise your voice at me?'

'And?' you shrugged, feeling a cheeky grin tug at your lips.

'And?' Sihtric repeated, 'do I need to remind you who I am?' he cockily held his chin up high as he looked down at you, and he licked his lips.

You provoked him on purpose by rolling your eyes once more. Sihtric may be behaving incredibly boyish as of late, but you still enjoyed riling him up, as you thought he was so hot and sexy when he felt he had to be dominant towards you. And riling him up also meant he wouldn't complain for at least a few minutes.

'Yeah, I think I do,' he said, then hummed again, 'I think I need to remind you who I am,' he kept holding your chin as his free hand moved up your thigh, sliding underneath your short, floral dress.

Your breath hitched as his hand moved up towards your bare buttocks, and he squeezed your ass hard.

'I already thought you weren't wearing any panties,' Sihtric chuckled mischievously and bit down on his lip for a moment, 'yeah, you definitely need to be reminded who you belong to, and who you are talking to with that little attitude of yours.'

'Let us not speak about attitudes in this room, Sihtric Kjartansson,' you taunted.

'So you do know who you're talking to?' Sihtric husked, rubbing his big, warm hand over your ass before he bruisingly squeezed the skin again, making you squirm slightly as he still had you backed into a corner. 'You need to be taught a lesson about the way you speak to your husband, little miss,' he smirked, knowing you were getting aroused too.

'Sure,' you feigned a yawn.

'You're asking for a good spanking,' Sihtric murmured.

'Am I?' you asked innocently.

'Mhm,' he hummed and rolled his hips against yours, his hard cock pleasantly putting pressure onto your wet folds, 'you need a hard lesson, it seems. But don't worry,' your husband chuckled, 'I will teach you some manners.'

Sihtric moved his hand from your chin down to your throat, wrapping around you with the exact amount of intensity you enjoy, while he started to tease your core with his fingertips.

'When I'm using that tight pussy of yours,' his voice raspy, 'you will say "yes, sir", "no, sir", and "sorry, sir",' Sihtric hummed at the arousing thought, 'you will say "more, sir", "harder, sir", and most of all,' he smiled, 'you will say "please, sir, fuck me a little deeper, sir".'

'You think I will?'

'Oh, you will, baby girl,' he whispered.

'Well, I think you need a cold shower,' you shrugged.

'I think we both do,' Sihtric smiled, 'I think you need to rid me of some anger,' he said, then threw you over his shoulder and carried you into the large bathroom.

After you had dinner in the hotel, you struggled to walk down the stairs of the main entrance, while Sihtric held you close, his hand placed on your lower back. Your husband had a lot of built up anger in him lately, and by the time he was done with you in that shower, you were sore and numb at the same time. Sihtric seemed fine, albeit a little on edge and still complaining, but at least less horny and rather satisfied, for now.

Since Bondi beach was packed with tourists, you both agreed to take a cab to Maroubra beach, which was rather empty when you arrived, about an hour before sunset. Sihtric held your hand as he walked you up to the sandy beach, where he picked you up in his strong arms to carry you closer to the water, then onto a large rock that gave you the perfect view of the setting sun. You spread out the towel you had packed and before you could even blink, Sihtric pulled you down with him and held you in his arms, lovingly pecking your cheek and neck.

'I love you, bunny,' he whispered.

'I love you too, tiger,' you smiled.

God, you thought, how handsome Sihtric looked right now. His hair braided and tied back into a short ponytail, the setting sun casting an orange glow on his beautifully scarred face, while his big eyes looked at you in awe. His white, thin sleeveless shirt showed off his biceps while his swimming trunks showed off his muscular legs, and a part of his deadly thighs.

'You think you're pregnant already?' he suddenly asked.

'Sihtric,' you snorted, 'stop being so obsessed with getting me pregnant.'

'Well, how many more times do we need to try?'

'Babe, I don't know,' you sighed softly, 'but… I guess if it doesn't happen soon we should go to a doctor,' you said softly.

'What do you mean?'

'Maybe, you know,' you said hesitantly, 'maybe I can't get pregnant the usual way… I mean, it's not like we're not trying, but,' you sighed again, 'no luck so far.'

You looked down at your feet while Sihtric studied your frown.

'Hey,' he whispered, then kissed your cheek, 'we'll keep trying, okay? It will be fine. And if you want to go see a doctor in a few weeks or months, then we will. We'll find a way.'

'But… what if I… what if I can't get pregnant?' you whispered.

'We will find a way, bunny,' Sihtric kissed your lips softly as he held your chin, 'I promise we'll find a way. Don't worry about that, my love. No need to stress about any of that.'

Sihtric held you as you sat in silence for a while, gazing at the view.

'You know,' he said after a while, 'I always thought Australia had more… mountains. You know, that scenery from those movies you like so much. Lord of the… Kings?'

'Do you mean Lord of the Rings?' you frowned, offended.

'Yeah, yeah,' Sihtric smiled, proud he almost got the title right despite him falling asleep before Frodo even showed up.

'Honey, that's New Zealand. Not Australia.'

'Oh.'

The next day kind of went the same as the day before. It was too hot, Sihtric was constantly complaining about literally everything, and when you had enough and wanted to go for a walk, Sihtric got you in the bathroom again. After another hour of sex in the shower, you went for dinner again and back to the same beach as yesterday, as it was a quiet and beautiful place. At least, it was until your loving husband opened his mouth again.

'The food here could've been a little better,' Sihtric complained, remembering dinner.

'You seemed to like that steak just fine.'

'It was okay,' he shrugged and looked around, 'why don't they have lounge chairs here?'

'Sihtric, please-'

'Or a bar or something. I'm hungry,' he mumbled, 'if that restaurant wasn't so slow with their service I would've ordered a dessert.'

'Siht,' you sighed.

'Of course,' your husband hissed as he slapped a bug which had landed on his leg, 'fucking bugs here. The fuck is with this place?'

'I can't believe I'm saying this,' you finally snapped, 'but will you please, please pick up boxing again. I am begging you.'

'What?' Sihtric looked surprised and confused.

'You're driving me nuts, babe,' you groaned, 'please.'

'What are you talking about?' Sihtric frowned.

'Honey, you're constantly whining. You get annoyed at every little thing possible, you have absolutely zero patience and you're constantly horny,' you said, 'you really need to find something to keep yourself busy. Nitpicking is not a hobby.'

'I don't nitpick-'

'Sihtric.'

'I don't!'

'It's too hot,' you mocked him, 'the food is too bland. I don't like this beach. Where are the mountains? There are too many bugs. The bed is too soft, the pillow is too hard, and the shower is too small. I'm hungry, I had too much to eat. I'm tired. Baby, I can't sleep. Sweetie, will you rub my back? Please don't rub my back, honeybun, I got a sunburn. I also have a headache. Bunny, I'm horny, but it's too hot to have sex. Bunny, I'm so hard right now, but-'

'Okay, okay,' Sihtric snarled, 'fine. I see what you mean,' he sighed, 'but I just don't understand what me being horny has to do with all this.'

'Because you have all this build up anger and tension inside, you're getting rough, Sihtric.'

'I… I thought you liked that,' he said, suddenly clearly upset.

'I do, but not to the point where I can barely walk afterwards,' you chuckled lightly, 'like today.'

Sihtric looked down at his feet, and you could tell he was fighting to keep his bottom lip from trembling as he clenched his jaw.

'I'm sorry,' he barely whispered, avoiding eye contact.

'You don't have to say sorry, even though I appreciate it,' you said, 'sure, a little rough is fine, as we used to do. But you need to understand that I am so small in your arms, which I love, don't get me wrong,' you smiled softly, 'but earlier today it really seemed like you forgot how strong you are.'

'I'm sorry,' Sihtric whispered again, and tried to get up on his feet, but you stopped him.

'No, honey,' you said and held his hand, 'don't try to leave now. We have to talk about this right now. I'm not mad, I'm not rejecting you, you didn't hurt me, not the way you think at least. We're good, I promise.'

Sihtric looked a little insecure but sat back next to you again, keeping his head down. Like a puppy who got told off, while it was nothing like that.

'Like I said, sweetheart,' you cupped his cheeks, 'you have to find something you can put your energy in. Something that will take your mind off the little things that get you so worked up. I mean, we never really discussed it much, but do you even have a plan? For the future I mean?'

Sihtric shrugged lightly, trying to regain his confidence again.

'I just want a family with you,' he said softly, still looking down.

'And I want a family with you,' you squeezed his hands, 'but even if I were to get pregnant soon, it will still take a while before I'd give birth,' you chuckled, 'I mean what future plan do you have for yourself?'

'I don't know,' Sihtric said, and finally looked into your eyes again, 'I also notice I'm not myself lately. And I miss the fights, of course I do. But I know you don't want me to fight again, so I didn't mention it.'

'Yes, but you can still keep up with boxing or kickboxing, whatever, without participating in professional fights. Have you thought about that?'

'But that's not fun for me, you know that. It's too easy,' he said, 'but… I guess I've been thinking of either opening a new gym or moving locations to a bigger building.'

You smiled at Sihtric, relieved that he actually had been thinking about picking up some kind of work again, instead of constantly coming to you for his entertainment or complaining.

'That's really good,' you said, 'you want to expand then?'

'I guess,' he said, 'maybe get into coaching or just be a sparring partner. In between my own workouts of course. And,' he smiled shyly, 'I was also thinking that… maybe you could work at the gym too. Since I retired I don't need much physio anymore. And I know you won't say it, but I can tell you really want to get back to work too.'

'I do,' you agreed, 'I'm not made to go on holiday all the time and do nothing.'

'I know, baby,' Sihtric chuckled and traced his fingertips over your hand.

'But… you mean you'd become like my boss then?' you furrowed your brow, 'because I'm not sure if I like that idea. That usually goes wrong…'

'Oh, no, no,' Sihtric said, 'no, bunny. I don't want some strange power play like that. I don't want to be your boss. At least, not at work,' his cheeky grin appeared again, 'I just thought maybe you could rent a space in the building I'd buy. You'd be your own boss, you'd just pay me a fair rent and that's it. You'll still have me as your client too whenever I need it.'

You looked at Sihtric, thoughtful. You liked his idea. You never thought about an option like this, but it would be perfect for both of you. He could still go around and punch bags, and sometimes people, while you could go back to helping other people with physio exercises.

'A fair rent, huh?' you gave him a suspicious look.

'Yeah,' Sihtric said, 'we'd have to look into a property and determine a decent price. And if you're a little short on rent sometimes, you know, I'm sure we could fix that,' he winked.

'You mean like a blowjob could fix that?'

You rolled your eyes when Sihtric feigned innocence, and then you both laughed. You wrapped your arms around Sihtric and pulled him in for a kiss.

'See,' you smiled, 'all good. Sometimes we just have to have conversations that aren't always pleasant. But that's life too.'

'I know,' Sihtric said, stealing another kiss, 'I just didn't know I've been such a bother to you lately. I never wanted that.'

'I know, sweetheart,' you kissed his cheek, 'I know everything's been rough for you too. And I hoped this trip would give you some peace of mind, to find yourself back again. But it only seemed to get worse. I couldn't bite my tongue anymore just now. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lash out.'

'I don't want you to bite your tongue around me, bunny, that's not right,' Sihtric cupped your cheeks, 'you know you can talk to me.'

'I know, but I didn't want to upset you either,' you sighed, 'but, okay, this is dealt with. I told you my issues, you told me your issues. Let's solve them together and move on now.'

'I like that idea,' Sihtric smiled and nuzzled your nose.

'Speaking about ideas,' you perked up, 'I know we're both not the biggest party people, but there's a beach party tomorrow evening at Bondi. I thought, why the hell should we not go? Have a few drinks, have some fun. People seem to not recognise you much here so far, or they just leave you alone. We should try it.'

'Hm, I don't know, bunny,' Sihtric said, a little unsure.

'Come on, honey,' you pouted, 'remember how much fun we had at that bar in Hawaii?'

Sihtric smiled at the fond memory, but his smile faded when he remembered what had happened afterwards, and you knew what went through his head.

'Don't think about what happened at the hotel,' you said and took his hands again, 'I just want to dance with you again, love. I miss seeing you smile like that. We'll have fun, I promise. And you can safely drink some alcohol again now that you're not taking any medication anymore.'

'Yeah, I guess that's true,' Sihtric said, 'but I'll probably be drunk in no time,' he grimaced.

Sihtric wasn't wrong. You had been at the beach party for only an hour and half, and Sihtric was completely wasted after two cocktails already. He was handsy, clingy and most of all; horny. He was slurring his words heavily, his mismatched eyes glossy and droopy, cheeks flushed red and he had a satisfied smile on his face. His hands kept grabbing your hips, pulling your ass against his crotch as he wanted to dance with you. You couldn't even call it dancing, Sihtric wasn't even aware of the music anymore, he was basically just dry humping you at this point. Luckily, there was a lot of that going on at that event, so no one even batted an eye at you and Sihtric. But you were too sober and felt a little ashamed, because you were in public.

'Siht,' you chuckled, blushing heavily at his cheeky behaviour while your back was pressed against his chest, 'calm down, love.'

'I am… calm,' Sihtric slurred, his hands moving under your thin skirt. He nuzzled your neck and giggled drunkenly in your ear.

'Gods, I want to fuck my wife,' he breathed, and suddenly spun your around.

Sihtric cupped your cheek and brought his other hand to your waist, pulling you flush against his body again.

'You're so f-fucking b… beautiful,' he smiled with heavy eyes, 'I want to make babies,' he hummed, then stumbled a step back over his own feet as he lost his balance, pulling you with him.

'Sihtric!' you giggled, desperately keeping the beast of man up on his feet, 'you're too drunk, we should get back to the hotel.'

'No, no,' he shook his head, 'I'm fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine,' he laughed and took your face in his warm hands again, 'let's m-make babies on the,' he took a deep breath, 'the sand… that's near the- the water,' he frowned, 'or is the, the water near the ssssand?' he hiccuped and got distracted when someone walked by, offering shots.

'Honey, you had enough to…' you stopped talking when Sihtric downed the shot and quickly grabbed another, but not before he accidentally knocked over five full glasses.

'Oh,' he chuckled, 'oops. Why are these little things so little?' he asked, looking at the shot glass.

You apologised to the employee and they tried to explain it was okay, but Sihtric interrupted.

'Hey…hhhey,' Sihtric smiled at the stranger, 'I… this is my w-w-wife,' he said and gave the employee a mean look, but quickly giggled again, 'I'm going to get h-her pergnan… pren… pregan… I… I'm going to b-breed her,' he eventually nodded proudly.

'Oh my god,' you said with wide eyes, 'I'm so sorry,' you told the employee who smiled awkwardly at you, 'he's… he's clearly drunk. I'm taking him to the hotel now. Sorry for this mess.'

'Not a problem, miss,' the employee said and snorted, 'it's not every day you hear a retired boxing champion say he wants to breed his wife. Have a good night.'

'Thanks,' you said, embarrassed, and you pulled Sihtric with you over the beach, who was quick to grab another fruity cocktail with a little pink straw before he left the party.

'Heeeeey,' your husband slurred and he wrapped his arms around you, causing you to trip over his feet, and you fell onto the darkened side of the beach, 'where are you going? Oh- Oh… baby,' he murmured when he realised you had fallen down, and he crouched down next to you, spilling half of his drink over your dress.

'Honey where did you get that drink?' you scoffed, 'did you pay for that?'

'No,' Sihtric confessed, 'mmmmmmaybe. N… no, I s-s-stole it,' he gasped, 'am I… am I going to jail again?'

'We,' you huffed, 'are going to sober you up at the hotel.'

You tried to get back up on your feet, but Sihtric was all over you, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses wherever he could while his hand squeezed your flesh with lust.

'Sihtric,' you chuckled, 'come on, not here,' you said and tried to escape his strong arms.

'Why not,' he hummed, 'w-wifey,' Sihtric smiled, then laid back on the sand, keeping you in his arms while he refused to let go of his drink. 'I want to… fffuck,' he sighed.

'Honey,' you clicked your tongue, 'I'm sure you do, but you can't even keep your eyes open. Come on now,' you managed to stand up while he held your hand.

'Hm, baby, it's not fair,' he whined, tugging your hand like a spoiled brat, 'I want youuuu…'

'When you sober up,' you said, 'let's go now, love.'

'No!' Sihtric pouted and crossed his arms.

'God, you're such a child,' you muttered, but had to admit you thought he was still adorable, 'okay, well, fine. You stay here, darling. I'll see you back at the hotel I guess,' you said and turned to walk away.

'No, no!' Sihtric yelled, hoarsely, 'baby… I…' he suddenly groaned, and you froze at the sound of his trembling voice, 'I- I don't feel… well,' he said.

You turned back to Sihtric and ran up to him.

'Honey?' you asked, worried, 'are you okay?'

'I feel… feel dizzy,' he struggled to speak and grabbed your arm.

Fuck,' you hissed, terrified he had a sudden episode that was the aftermath of his concussion somehow.

But then Sihtric suddenly pushed you away as he leaned in, closer to the ground, and he threw up; the aftermath of getting drunk so suddenly. You grimaced and took another step back, giving him his space to be sick without him vomiting over your feet. After about a minute, Sihtric wiped his mouth and sat back.

'I… I'm never drinking a-a-again,' he mumbled, and then gulped down the half spilled cocktail he had managed to keep safe during this entire adventure.

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #sihtric #the last kingdom #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #tlk #modern!sihtric

116 notes · View notes

tractorbeamofwoe · 6 months

Text

Is Everybody Going Crazy?

Short spooky fic based on Halloween prompts

word count: 1,185

a/n: this was supposed to just be a really short like drabble but ended up becoming a whole mini fic. It’s mildly rushed towards the end so I apologise for that but I can’t believe this is the first thing I’ve written in so long, it’s kinda surreal to be back. Happy Halloween :)

***

“Stop messing with the lights, it’s not funny” was a phrase said often in your house. Ever since Johnny moved in with you and found out you were easily spooked, he’d gotten a kick out of scaring you every now and then. Sometimes it was him turning the lights on and off while you were in the shower, other times he’d make a sudden noise or sneak up on you.

Now, after having lived together for a few years, his antics seem to have chilled out a bit. You‘d moved house a few days ago (on Halloween, which was already stressful enough) and you’d made him promise to not do anything stupid while you got settled in. Johnny excessively nodded his head and rolled his eyes “I promise, I’m over that stuff now anyway.” He insisted.

Those first few days went smoothly. Everything was unpacked, the vinyls were all still in one piece, hell Johnny even found the time to play guitar for a couple of hours while you got some work done. It was at the weekend that things started happening again.

You were upstairs finishing off an email when the power suddenly went out. Of course, your natural reaction was to scream bloody murder. “JOHNNY BOND I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” You screeched, storming downstairs into the living room. You stopped in your tracks when light hit your face and you saw Johnny sat on the sofa unbothered.

“Lou I’ll call you back, Y/N’s freaking out about something.” He said, hanging up the phone and tossing it aside.

“Did you turn the power out?” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“Did the power go out?” He looked at you, eyebrows furrowed, like you were crazy.

“What do you think?” You snapped then, frustrated and unimpressed as he smirked at you.

“Well I’ve been down here on the phone the whole time, so it definitely wasn’t me love.” Johnny grinned, before suggesting you sign off for the day and cuddle up with him while watching a movie.

By the time it finished the house was pitch black and Johnny was fast asleep. You decided to creep up to bed alone, feeling along the walls to find your way. Watching a horror movie probably wasn’t a wise decision as it definitely made you more on edge about the whole “house is possibly haunted” thing. This unease would continue for the next few days.

When you awoke in the morning it seemed Johnny had not come up to bed at all, though you could have sworn you heard him coming up the stairs in the middle of the night. You hopped in the shower in the hopes it would relax you, closing your eyes and letting the warm water run over your face. You reached down to pick up your shampoo bottle and pour some into your hands, massaging it into your hair. When you closed your eyes to rinse your scalp, the water turned ice cold, shocking your muscles making you tense up. Sure this house was a little old but it shouldn’t be doing that should it? Knowing Johnny he probably ran a tap downstairs. No biggie, just wait for it to warm up again.

But it didn’t warm up again and you’d been waiting for what felt like half an hour, teeth chattering as you made do with the cold. You huffed in annoyance and decided to end your shower prematurely, warming yourself with the frustrated energy you used to confront Johnny.

“Have you ever had any problems when using the shower?” You ask, eyeing him suspiciously while your wet hair dripped onto the hard wood living room floor.

“No, love. Why?” He said, not taking his attention away from his guitar which he was in the middle of tuning.

“Have you used the taps or flushed the toilet in the last, say 30 minutes?”

“Errr nope.”

“And you’re not playing a prank on me?”

“Ah, this again.”

“Can you blame me? I’m spooked! You didn’t come up to bed last night either, even though I swear I heard the stairs creaking.”

“Well if it would ease your mind, we can call in a maintenance guy and he’ll probably tell us that something needs replacing.”

So to calm your paranoia and quell the growing tension in your relationship you took Johnny’s advice. You were thankful for his nonchalant attitude about everything in situations like this. He had always been the logical thinker in the relationship.

You called someone out to look at the boiler the next morning. The arrangement was that Johnny would be around in the morning to let him in and explain what was happening, then eventually he’d have to go to the studio, while you came home early from work to supervise until the guy was finished.

A simple enough arrangement, but shockingly confusing for you when the man announced he had to travel to grab some spare parts. You texted Johnny to let him know of this new development and his response made you freeze up.

“He told me he’d finished up? I saw him leave.”

“But I also saw him leave. Why didn’t you tell me he’d finished?”

“Sorry love. Wanted you to take the day off and enjoy it. What colour was his van? It’s black”

“I don’t know I didn’t see. When I looked out the window the driveway was empty.”

“Darling, who was in the house?”

A few moments pass and when you didn’t respond Johnny texted again.

“Hello?”

“Go and check the boiler room.”

You clutched your phone tightly in your hand and took in a deep breath, as you slowly made your way down to the boiler room, appropriately and creepily located in the basement. There seemed to be a chill in the air that made goosebumps appear all over your skin. You grasped the door handle firmly and twisted, but the door was locked. You decided it was probably for the better and decided not to mess with it anymore.

There were no more cold showers, but it had done nothing to resolve the tension the both of you felt, even Johnny was now on edge. He started to believe the house was haunted too when you were laying in bed together a couple of nights later and you both exchanged a frightened look.

“Did you hear that?” You whisper

“Yeah…the voice?”

“What did it say?”

“I very clearly heard goodbye. It sounded like someone saying goodbye and it sounded like it came from this house.”

“Do you think it was a ghost talking?” You suggested as a joke, but clearly your housemate didn’t take it that way.

“Nah fuck this I’m proper spooked now.”

Whatever it was, it had clearly gotten bored and left you both alone. You never experienced anything out of the ordinary again after that night, but you had lived to tell the tale to sceptical family members and bandmates. But ghosts aside, the thing that always still seemed to horrify everyone the most was the fact that you decided to move house on Halloween. I mean, are you crazy?!

#Catfish and the bottlemen fic #Catfish and the bottlemen #bondy #johnny bond #johnny bond fic #Bondy fic #Catb #catb fic

4 notes · View notes

lydianthunderpole123 · 11 months

Text

Chapter 2 of Bruising is up!

Check it out and tell me what you think! <3

#bondy #catfish and the bottlemen #johnny bond #bondy fic #the safest place #catb #bruising

6 notes · View notes

aechii · 1 year

Text

₍⁠₍ BOX OF MEMORiES ₎⁠₎

a.k.a good luck charm pt. 2

{read part 1}

PAiRiNG ?! childhoodfriend!kylian x black! femreader

GENRE ?! romance, angst if you have 15/15 vision, fluff (😞)

SYNOPSiS ?! in which kylian and y/n bond over a decade-and-a-half old time capsule that has old feelings reflourishing.

C/W ?! just too sweet sweetness, kylian has ****** **** ** ****, small mention of dismembering (it's not serious at all, i promise), kiss kiss

A/N ?! the part two of 'good luck charm' that was requested many a time 😋 divine romance at its finest, i think i luv this 🖤 anyways, enjoy this kinda long fic :D

TAGLiST ?! @mrs-bellingham

~°~

[y/n] slides an unbranded shoebox into the centre of the carpet. vertices still crisp, crooked and wavering hand doodles tattooed all over cardboard brown, with assorted stickers stuck haphazardly, in no particular order. it very much screamed 10 year old kylian and [y/n], infected with chaos and eagerness to fill any empty space.

"my mum gave this to me over the weekend," [y/n]'s voice is whimsical, "do you remember it?"

kylian scratches his head, contemplative, "not necessarily. though, i can recognise my atrocious handwriting."

[y/n] is chuckling, shuffling closer to kylian and the box, which has currently found purchase in the midst of his palms, "with you on that one. you've never been one to have good writing."

a fact that kylian couldn't deny, so he stays silent, not without emitting a surrendering grunt.

he reads that words written in block bold with black, a failed attempt at times new roman capitals.

"'bondy's golden duo- kylian mbappé & [y/n] [y/l/n]', " he snorts and [y/n] does the same.

"so corny."

"yet who made it?"

kylian is taken aback, mouth slightly agape, "right— okay then."

[y/n]'s laughs seep into the air of the room, bouncing off the walls and sinking into the skin of the man in front of her. leave goosebumps in their wake and kylian has to clench his fists to extinguish the jitter in his stomach.

giggles diminuendo, and she urges him on to open it with a light nudge.

kylian picks at the tape that edges the lid on all its four sides, sticking it to the body. the sound of tearing is swift, ends no sooner than 5 seconds later, and kylian is quick to flip the top off.

the first thing noticed is two pieces of paper, folded twice and inscribed to their respective person.

both adults look at each other, a silent gesture signalling the other to read theirs first. but none seem to want to move.

"come on, [y/n]," a smirk, "ladies first."

she rolls her eyes, complying as she picks the letter with two fingers.

"ah, won't you kill me with your chivalry."

kylian snickers, and she pries the folds open, seeing the first few words that initiate a smile, "we wrote these for each other."

kylian's lips curve into a grin too, "really?"

[y/n] nods, causing kylian to take his, hurriedly opening it as his fingers fumble, "then i definitely can't wait to read this."

"i was probably just spewing shit, i don't even remember, to be honest," [y/n] tries to excuse the impending nonsense past her had written to kylian. yet, it rather makes the man more excited.

"that's why i wanna read it... first."

[y/n] sighs, groaning into her hands, "go ahead, then."

smiling, his lips begin to move as he says what his eyes scan, aloud, " 'dear ky, i don't even know what to write but i see you speeding ahead so i'm pretending i do right now'- do you really hate me that much?"

[y/n] is quick to deny, "no! ky, you know i'm not good with words."

he pushes the use of the nickname into the depths of his mind, somewhere he could reach later to daydream over.

"i know, i know. i'm sorry." his smile portrays otherwise, and [y/n] clicks her tongue.

"just continue reading, kylian."

he does so, uttering his best friend's words through his.

"'i think i'll start this letter by saying how much i love appreciate you. sappy and all, yes, but your smile makes me smile, and your laugh makes me laugh. i don't see us as best friends, but soulmates? i think that's what it's called. anyways, i hope you stay being kylian, whatever that means. continue kicking the BALL and not my LEGS, and kick your way stardom!! i wanna see you on my screen one day. imagine it: kylian mbappé, france's best footballer (not the world's, you can never beat LIONEL MESSI!!). how cool would that be??? anyways, love adore you forever, and see you in 10 years. can't wait to open this with you haha.' "

the silence that follows is not awkward, or filled with embarassment, but instead, holds too much emotion to bear the weight of words. kylian is sure he has read it countless times within the space of deafness, ensuring that every syllable is etched into his subconscious, memorising every word so that he could proclaim them by heart.

"10 years, huh?" a number that had been exceeded by 5 years, numbs [y/n]'s oesophagus as if boiled water trickled down the walls of her throat. it seems as if all their friendship had were fraying ends of broken promises and loosening bonds.

"i'm sorry, [y/n], so so sorry." his tone leaks pained regret, [y/n] hates that.

"and, as i said before, you don't need to be."

kylian doesn't look convinced, avoids the girl's eyes as he stares at the paper for so long that the loops and leaning lines of [y/n]'s writing turns into a swirl of black in his vision.

"but you know it didn't have to be that way, [y/n]. a friendship doesn't have to end just so a career can start."

stays quiet because she truly has nothing to say. knows that if she retorts with a blame on herself, kylian would be more angry than he already is at himself.

"we departed on good terms, didn't we? so i have nothing against you."

"i didn't even know if you were alive, [y/n]!"

leaves a quiet room after, and [y/n] sighs, moving closer to kylian.

"but i did. i knew you were doing what younger you wanted, and as much as it hurt that i wasn't a part of it, you being happy made me happy."

tugs at the loose strings of a pillow that graces her lap, then continues, "you had neymar, achraf, sergio, the whole of the france national team, as your support system-"

"but they aren't you, [y/n]," blinks the burning sensation of accumulating tears away, "i wanted to experience all of this, with you, and i hate myself for pushing you away."

she doesn't like how her heart jolts in her chest, sending a ripple of shivers down her spine. they've only just gotten back into contact, yet her body is replenishing the old feelings she pushed down, because kylian couldn't like her back.

"don't hate you, never did and never will, ky," doesn't know what to say and so urgently tries to fill the air with something, "we've reunited now, so why focus on the past?

her words are final and she goes to reopen her letter. kylian stops her however. remembers what he had written, messily but passionately, and would rather she read it when he wasn't there to bear the humiliation and ache of butterflies.

"open yours later." his smile is shaky, but deems it reassuring enough.

[y/n] is skeptical, and raises and eyebrow, "why? i want to know what you wrote about me."

kylian fiddles with the thread that rings his wrist, "and i want to see what would put in there."

[y/n] says nothing, just gazes at him, but gives in and sighs.

kylian cheers, removing the novelty gift wrap that had covered the contents of the box. the laughs that follow are loud, full of disbelief.

"no way!" [y/n] reaches into the box, and takes out a metal case. the things within in hit against the corners, and she feels the weight of the box tilt to one side as they roll inside.

"i forgot about these!"

kylian is dumbfounded, "marble crash?"

she nods, opening the container. there's only a couple of the glass spheres in there, but that's all needed to complete a heated game. reads the small note stuck beneath the lid, and laughs after. it's obvious that it was written by kylian.

"'demand a rematch when you open this. [y/n] cheated in our last match before we put this in here.'" followed by angry face and a sad one.

"there you go— telling lies."

"lies?! [y/n], you never played a marble crash game fairly, and you know that."

she ponders for a few beats, shrugs her shoulders and dips her hands into the box for the next item.

"a win is a win, kylian."

he side eyes her, expression incredulous.

"unbelievable-"

cut off by a scoff, before a soft object is hurled into his direction. he catches it before it hits his face, and recognises the matted fur and missing space of where an arm should be.

"armless messi ?" smiles as he notices ]y/n]'s disdained look. recalls the memory like it was yesterday, and can't help but feel sorry for the footballer-named teddy bear.

"i'm still angry at you for that, kylian. don't look at me."

he cackles, mouth wide and he falls backwards. [y/n] climbs over to snatch her sentiment back.

"you know i didn't mean to rip his arm off." pants as he attempts to recover. fails, and starts laughing again.

"i will kick you out-"

"okay, okay! i'll stop."

[y/n] stares at the odd, white stitches situated near the bear's right shoulder, traces the abstract lines of string before settling it beside her.

"you're not touching messi ever again."

kylian whines, latching onto his friend's arm, "come on, i'm more responsible now."

[y/n] sarcastically replies, "i believe you."

kylian lets her go, and pulls out two figurines. the girl beside lets out a gasp, and grabs her respective one.

"letting this go was the worst decision of my life," she hugs the kim possible doll as kylian twists the legs of ron stoppable.

"still functioning."

"and why wouldn't it be, kylian— i swear, you have an obsession with dismembering dolls-"

"i do not!"

"yes you do!"

the back and forth continues until they get tired, lips stretched wide and upwards, teeth showcased and glimmering in the dim, warm light of [y/n]'s room.

something distinct, yet minutely incinerating surges through their bones as the sun begins to sink below the horizon and the air loses it energy. doors of locked events in the past fly open with the key of nostalgia and gasping surprise.

from a picture of kylian in a leg cast and [y/n] signing it, to outdated souvenirs from when they both went to portugal with their parents.

a staggering reminder of what they once were, and wish to be.

hours pass like seconds, the box is now only one item empty- another sheet of paper, so much for 'not being able to put things into words'- and steaming mugs of coffee warm their hands.

"are you gonna read it, or should i?" kylian asks [y/n] as she takes a sip. her head juts towards him, and he obeys, ridding the box of its last content. it's only half an a4 sheet, and it's titled '5 questions to answer', which [y/n] laughs at when she's told. decorated with more stickers and weirdly drawn stickmen, courtesy of kylian.

"what's the first one?"

"'how's life like 10 years later? '"

a chuckle, light and forced, leaves [y/n]'s lips, and she shrugs, "i wouldn't be able to remember life 5 years ago, to be honest. i guess i was just studying and living life as it came. you?"

kylian takes time to think, "won the world cup, was on loan at psg. that's pretty much it."

"you say it as if winning the world cup is nothing, kylian!"

"i'm happy about it, but still salty over the last one."

"ah," [y/n] grins, picking up armless messi as she makes him dance in the air, "he's truly the goat, isn't he, messi?"

kylian is quick to disagree, "i may play with him at home, but ronaldo tops him, by far."

"i'll tell him you said that."

"how?" he cocks his head, "and even so, he's already aware."

doesn't give her a chance to reply, reading the next question beneath, "'is [y/n] still taller than kylian?' oh wouldn't past me be glad."

[y/n] huffs, "i'm still supposed to be taller, you just had an odd growth spurt."

"it was bound to happen."

looks at him disdainfully as he snickers, "next one, kylian."

"is kylian famous yet? like as famous as ronaldo?"

"i guess you already speak for yourself," [y/n] says, smiling, "i'm proud of you."

kylian returns the grin, gives the girl a look that forces her to avert her eyes elsewhere, "thank you."

"my pleasure. what's the one after?"

kylian straightens the sheet of paper, "asks if you're a graphic designer now."

[y/n] smiles and nods, "can strongly confirm."

"always been a picasso-" his words make the girl laugh, "-how's that going?"

"stressful at times, but honestly, it's fun. didn't feel pressured into pursuing a career i didn't want so, i'm not gonna lie, i had things easy."

"but that's good, right?"

"of course. never envisioned myself in the stem industry, don't know why."

"you were smart, though. too smart," kylian playful retorts. [y/n] slides out a chuckle, "it was obligated intelligence, not necessarily welcomed, you know."

"something smart people say," he rolls his eyes after, causing y/n to shove him.

"shut up, rich man, and read the last question."

kylian is humoured, shaking his head as he goes on to read the last words on the sheet. his amused expression falls and eyebrows raise as he is reminded of what he had written as the final question.

"oh."

"what is it, ky?"

inhales, then reads the words out loud, "'are we living together as promised? remember, it has to be a large mansion in the heart of paris!' "

[y/n] tries to formulate words, fails at doing so, and leaves the room silent.

as promised.

kylian remembers. frankly speaking, it was the only thing he wanted to remember because it was something that he looked forward to in the future.

then things fucked up, [y/n] had moved away from paris as a whole and kylian tried to fill his apartment with only one presence, but failed everytime.

"it's not too late, is it?"

he doesn't know what he's saying, his mouth moves on its own accord.

"what?" [y/n] sounds winded, feels the stare on her face and turns to look at who's guilty for it. her eyes are everywhere, all over his face, all at once. from his hardened eyes to his pouted, blushed lips.

looks at the kylian mbappé now, and sees the kylian mbappé then. aged, and that's it, but devious childishness still remains.

she doesn't realise that he has moved closer, and can suddenly see the fine lines of his textured skin, and feel his breath tickle her cheeks.

"what are you doing, kylian?" she whispers, can't muster a volume louder than that.

fingers pick at her stray braid, tucking it behind her back, "i don't know... should i stop? i will if you wan-"

"no," she cringes at how desperate she sounds, "it's okay. i want you to."

kylian's thumb traces the dip of her lip, out of breath as her eyes absorb every intake of air from him. [y/n] had always caught his eye, been the only one who had, and kylian knows he would be downright stupid to let her slip through his fingers again.

a ringing phone cuts through the static silence, and they both jolt violently in shock. [y/n] distances herself from him, numb all the way to her fingertips in anxiety, as kylian huffs, digging his pockets for the source of the loud sound.

picks it up, and [y/n] doesn't hear who exactly he's speaking to, but rules them as important when kylian's eyebrows furrow inwards and mumbles a chorus of 'yes's and 'okay's. ends the call just as quick as it started, and sighs, looking apologetic.

"i have to go."

"that's okay," ascends from the floor, and stretches out an arm to help kylian do the same. knows he's too heavy for the girl so he doesn't dump all of his weight on her, using his other arm to push him upwards.

grabs his coat from the hanger by the door, and slides into his shoes, but stops as he remembers something.

"kylian, where are you going?"

"one second, wait," shuffles into the room again, and immediately notices the ron stoppable doll lying on its back on the carpet. smiles, bends to pick it up, then shoves it into his pocket. looks at the room one more time, then closes the door behind him, ambling back to the front door.

"what did you forget?"

"nothing, i thought i had."

she doesn't look convinced but lets it go, opening the door.

"call me when you get home, okay?"

nods and says an 'i will', but remains stood on the doorstep.

he truly has no clue where his confidence surfaces from, but the next second, his lips are flush against [y/n]'s. they're soft, he notices, taste slightly of cherry and it's fucking addicting.

breaks it before he loses himself within it, a small smile upon his face as his mind becomes hazed and dizzy.

[y/n] is still, eyes wide, and the thrumming of her heartbeat upon her skin is... thrilling.

"see you later, [y/n]."

+_-

'dear [y/n],

i think letters are old fashioned and something people in the 17th century do, but for you, i guess i will suck it up and write one anyways.

i hope when you read this, you smile like you always do. have i told you that you look pretty when you smile? i'm only saying it once, and you'll never hear me say it again.

life with you is fun. i don't think i would be alive if God didn't put you with me, so i'm thankful everyday that you're my best friend. i really hope we stay friends forever, and that when i become the world's best footballer of all time (after cristiano ronaldo of course!), i can show off to everybody that you helped me get to the top of the top!!

anyways, this is getting too long and you know i don't write. so, bye bye, and see you in 10 years.

i love you.'

#work de aechii 🫧#kylian x reader #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe oneshots #football imagines #footballer x reader #footballer x you #x black reader #x black fem reader #paris saint germain

299 notes · View notes