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somejazzinthemorning · 1 year ago

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tightrope. 11

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warning: Mature content Word Count: ~18K

It takes a lot to understand the truth when it is covered under years of hearing the same words. The word exploded around me, in screams and chants, confetti and champagne, but it all felt dull because when the phone rang the following morning, it was not “Papà” that was written on the screen.

It was not the day before, either. Or the days that followed.

Monday morning. 10 hours past the race, and Dad had not called.

Rio called right after the podium. The words tumbled from my lips, breathless and infused with the rush of adrenaline when I picked up the phone from Rocco’s hands and accepted the call. Racing down the pitlane, phone pressed to my face, I could feel the dampness of champagne against my skin and Rio’s voice erupting from the other end of the line, from the other side of the world.

“Eva! What the hell?!”

I was shaking—every cell in my body reverberating with the thrill of what we’d just accomplished. Time seemed slowed down, every detail around me sharper, more vibrant. My skin was covered in goosebumps, a mix of elation and disbelief coursing through me. My lips tasted of champagne, the sweet fizz lingering on my tongue. As my eyes flickered around the pitlane, taking in the sight of the small crowd of mechanics waiting for us at the end of the pitlane, the flags waving on the stands and the vibrant colours of team gear in the pitlane, a loud chuckle left my trembling lips, my fingers grip stronger on the trophy.

Reality seemed distorted, stretched over whatever material dreams were made of.

“A podium finish, Rio! A fucking podium finish!” My words blended in the cacophony of the team’s cheers, a symphony that echoed through the pitlane, now replacing the sound of the engines that had filled the air for the past six hours.

Ahead, Alexei, Alessandro Bianchi for more official affairs, set the pace. His legs were so long and quick it seemed like he was almost running. He was the one driving the car during the final laps. As for Henrik and me, we spent those last laps in the garage, our attention fixated on the car and the unfolding Corvette narrative. Shifting from that nail-biting tension to becoming drenched in a cascade of champagne, it was the blink of an eye.

Henrik's arm found its way around my neck, playfully pulling me into him. His tall frame towered above mine. “Time to drop the phone, DiMaggio. Let’s join the fiesta!”

“It’s my brother. Give me a minute.” I looked up, meeting his frowning face. “Promise you. Just a minute.”

Henrik was Finnish, had hair as fair as sunlight and eyes as blue as the ocean. He just nodded, and then I freed myself from his pull, walking to the side, finding support in the pit wall.

“I knew you could do it, ‘Vita. Sooner or later!” I pressed the phone against my ear, attempting to amplify my brother’s voice. “Get your head right, and everything else will fall into place. Look at what you just did.”

“I drove for less than 2 hours—”

“And you put the car exactly where it needed to be.” There was a genuine awe in my brother’s voice, something that I wasn’t quite used to listening to. Dad wouldn’t react this way. As a matter of fact, he didn’t react at all. “Those overtakes! That place must be going wild for you right now.”

I laughed, looking ahead. Alexei was climbing a mechanic’s back, his 36 years of age eclipsing as his face went full of joy and he looked like a child.

“Yeah. It’s… pretty insane.”

“The race ended less than half an hour ago and we’re already hearing your name all over the hotel. And we’re just having breakfast. You have no idea.” I’ve never heard Rio speak so fast in my life. A clatter resonated from Rio's end as if he was dragging a chair, and then his voice returned. “By the way, your timing is impeccable.”

“Why? What happened?”

My brother chuckled. “You managed to steal Carlos’ thunder on race day.”

“Shit, he’s starting on pole, right? Wish him luck for me.”

"No need to.” Oh. I was not ready to hear him. "I'm right here." A blend of excitement and wistfulness churned in my chest, a familiar pang of longing to be in two places at once. He wasn’t right there. Not anywhere close. “Man—Eva…” His voice rang again, I pictured the smile on his lips, as my name resonated. “You’re absolutely incredible.”

I leaned against the pitlane wall. Champagne dripped from my hair onto my face, the lingering taste a testament to the euphoria of the moment. I glanced upward, the raucous celebration of the team unfolding before me, champagne bottles raised high, exuberant cheers filling the air. Then, I looked down, at my wet fingers wrapped around the trophy,

“I wish you were here,” I murmured, my voice a soft whisper carried away by the wind. “Both of you.”

“DiMaggio!! Leave the phone!” Alexei called for me. In large, determined strides, he made his way toward me, holding a champagne bottle in his hand.

"I'll make sure to save some of this energy for when we reunite," I mused, my voice tinged with a mix of anticipation and longing.

“Hang up!” Alexei screamed, a playful edge to his tone as he quickened his pace. Henrik was behind him, holding another bottle. Their trophies had been left in the garage, on top of the car.

“Hope it won’t take long.” Carlos's voice, filled with warmth and affection, was the last thing I heard before the joyful chaos consumed me again, drenched in champagne and carried on my two teammates’ shoulders, back to the small crowd.

But then Monday came. With a throbbing headache and a dehydrated body, after a too-over-the-top evening packed with celebrations. My phone rang on the nightstand, and after picking it up, Nicola and Lin's faces filled the screen.

“You’ve got toothpaste on your cheek,” Lin pointed out, her surroundings showing the sturdy brick of her New York flat. She was back home, I didn’t know that. Somehow, I still thought she would be in Europe. “And congratulations on the race, by the way!”

Nicola sat in a dimly lit room, a soft white glow illuminating her face—by background noise that filled the air, I associated that the white glow was probably the glow of her TV. “I hate this time zone thing. Can’t stay long, sorry, hubby’s waiting for me in bed. What are you up to today?”

I glanced at the corner of the phone, noting the time. It was a bit before 7 a.m. It was probably around midnight for Nicola. As for Lin, it was a little past 7 p.m. I wiped away the toothpaste from my cheek and sat back on the bed, too tired to move.

“I have an interview today. At the track. In like, two hours. They’re doing tire testing, and James Anderson thought it would be a nice background for the interview.”

“James Anderson? The James Anderson?” Lin's enthusiasm was palpable as she turned in her chair, getting up from it seconds later and walking to another point in the room. The unsteady movement of the camera made my stomach churn. “Girl!”

Nicola laughed softly. “Eva, on a scale of 1 to 10, how freaked out are you?”

“A big ass 11.”

“You've got this in the bag,” Lin's voice chirped through the phone, her enthusiasm cutting through the fog of fatigue that lingered in my mind. “Unless you’re still a bit drunk from last night.”

“Just a tiny bit,” I admitted, flopping back onto the bed. The sudden motion made me feel queasy. “Yeah. Fuck. Not exactly drunk, but way too hungover for this. I don’t even know why I said yes to the interview. There’s literally nothing to talk about.”

“He did an amazing piece on the race. Well, an amazing piece on you,” Nicola chimed in. “I’ll post it tomorrow on the team’s socials.”

“That’s why Rocco convinced me to say yes.” I rolled over in bed, seeking a hint of comfort from the pillow and the soft comforter. “Why? I don’t know.”

“Get out of bed, or you'll fall asleep,” Nicola urged. “Also, get out of bed so I can go to bed.”

“You can go. I'll keep her company and help with what she should say.”

“She knows it better than you do,” Nicola was right. I was usually the one media training my clients, providing them with a bullet point list of acceptable topics and answers. So, technically, I should be able to do it for myself. But exhaustion from the weekend's efforts, compounded by a hangover, left me feeling drained. “Don’t you?”

“I do. But I’m just tired. I really, really don’t want to do this right now. I have a belly ache.”

“Eva, come on.” Lin moved again, her energy almost overwhelming enough to make me feel nauseated. “If you get nervous, just imagine the man in his underwear. They say it helps.”

I burst into laughter, the absurd mental image of James Anderson in his underwear momentarily banishing the exhaustion that had weighed on me. “Who says?”

Nicola threw her head back, laughing in response.

Lin grunted. “Them. People.”

"Thanks for that mental image, babe. I'll keep it in my back pocket."

As the laughter subsided, my eyes caught the corner of the screen. Time was passing. The interview was getting closer, and the reality of facing the camera was beginning to set in. Lin's expression turned earnest. "Seriously, Eva, you've got this. Stop overthinking. Just be yourself and ride this wave of success. You're on top of the world."

“That’s what scares me.”

And just like that, a frown appeared on both of their faces. Nicola's frown was more pronounced due to the glow of the TV in the background. Then, she clicked her tongue. “Ah, that’s why you wanted us to call.”

“Exactly.”

“And here I thought you were just missing us,” Lin teased. “Seriously, babe. You’ve got this.”

“Tell us what’s wrong.”

"It's just that sometimes…. I don’t feel like I deserve this? Like it should be harder than it is. Yeah, I can race. And yeah, I'm good at it. Pretty good. But the pressure? The questions? The idea that people are looking at me and expecting me to fail… I've been sick to my stomach just wondering what's happening next because that's what all those goddamn reporters kept asking me yesterday. And—I don’t know. I feel like my Dad is right. I'm not fit for this. ”

“What did that jerk say to you, again?”

“Lin, he’s her dad.”

“Yeah, and he was, is, whatever, my boss. Screw him, honestly. Eva, listen.” She paused and slid one of her lock braids to be back of her ear. “I hope you know he’s a loser, and everything he does and says is just a reflection of how much of a loser he is. He needs to control your life in a way he never got to control his—”

“Lin—”

“No, I don’t care. Listen.” She paused. Nicola took a deep breath, and I followed suit. “He’s your dad, I know. But I’ve been there and I’ve heard the stuff he says. I know him. I worked with Rio when we were both fresh out of college, and I've seen the way he treats both of you.” Again, I attempted to stop her, but she raised one finger. “And I've had enough. The fact that he’s your father isn’t a reason for him to be as mean as he is when things don’t go according to his plans. I've seen him blame Rio, in front of the whole team, for a storm on a test day because he should have known—”

“A test day. Yes, well, those are usually…”

“I don’t care. He’s your dad. He parades you around the way he thinks is best. What did he say this time?” Lin had a way of cutting through the noise and getting straight to the heart of the matter.

“A lot of stuff about how this sport isn’t for me and how he can’t understand my change of mentality in the last few weeks… How I fit better in an office. Just—a lot.”

“Of course he can’t. He never understood you at all. He’s not a good man, love.” She paused. “And I’m sorry.”

“But he’s my dad.”

“He is,” Nicola hummed. “But that doesn’t mean you owe him anything. You’re your own person.”

“Actually, I owe him my entire career.”

“Just because he has the money. And—Think: he never did one single thing for you that would risk his money. For heaven's sake, he made you race in The Challenge after you spent a year at home, struggling with anxiety and depression and he didn’t care if you were ready or not. The only thing he knew was that he was going to lose money if he didn’t get a driver in that seat. Rio was completely done with racing and there was no one available to take the remaining spot.”

“But I wanted to race.”

“I know you did.” Lin’s voice softened. “But like that, hun? From FRECA to The Challenge? We hoped you'd advance to at least any other regional series. Or that he would push for F3, he did it for Rio and, let’s face it, he’s not half as good as you.” I took a moment to absorb her words. They were raw, unfiltered truths that I had been avoiding. “It felt like you were back to square one. Doesn’t surprise me that you kept yourself busy with that college friend. Amanda, right?”

“Yes. And I still am. Keeps me busy. I can't have too much downtime, or else I go crazy.”

“Exactly. So…” Nicola interjected. “That’s not how it should be. You need breaks. You need downtime. You need to rest. You just had a break, and you had the time and the peace of mind to find your groove again.”

“I was in good company. In a nice place. And was busy with that said company.”

“See? So the issue is your Dad. It’s been what? Two weeks since you came back from Mallorca, and you just got a freaking podium, and now you’re struggling again because your Dad said things that made you overthink everything. You were so happy during the weekend, what happened?”

“He didn’t call. I thought I had proved him wrong and he didn’t even bother to call. And he’s my dad, you know? And now James Anderson is going to ask me stuff about the future my dad is holding in his hands. And I don’t want to answer.”

“Okay, let’s…” Nicola took a deep breath, her hand reaching for her hair and pulling it back. I sat up in bed, realizing it was time to gather myself. “You are holding that said future. Get the fuck out of bed, put on some makeup, and head to the track. Do the interview. It will go well. Don’t overthink the answers. It’s PR and you’re great at that. So just—think you’re one of your clients. And if your mind starts spiralling, Rocco is right there; I know he can keep you occupied if needed.”

Lin burst into laughter. “Oh, he can definitely keep her occupied.”

“Gross. He’s technically an employee.” I retorted. “And I bet he’s taken.”

“I’m sure Pulcini will be around, too,” Lin added, and I finally got out of bed, leaving my phone on the credenza, capturing me as I moved around the room and picked up my sneakers. “Or have we moved on from him?”

“We’re not focused on that because I’m working!”

“Can I finally go to bed? I want to get occupied, too.”

“No one here is getting ‘occupied,’” I remarked, slipping on my sneakers. “But yes, go to bed. I’ll do my makeup and head out.”

“It will go well, baby,” Lin said. “And if it gets weird, well, remember the underwear thing.”

The pit lane buzzed with activity, a hubbub of conversations and the clatter of rattle guns. Standing amidst it all, I found myself at the center of attention. The warmth of the sun kissed my skin, while in the distance, I could hear the sounds of the paddock being packed into trucks.

Before me stood James Anderson, his lanyard hanging casually over his chest, almost masking the fact that he wasn’t just another journalist, but the renowned James Anderson himself. Two chairs were positioned at the heart of the pit lane, a camera strategically placed near the pit wall, and a bustling garage composed the backdrop. Alexei and Henrik occupied the seats on the pit wall, their legs dangling, dressed in relaxed t-shirts and jeans. Matteo was in his race suit, totally recovered from the food poisoning episode, and ready to take on the test day.

The car would leave the garage in 20 minutes, so we had exactly that time. Not one minute more.

Despite the camera, Anderson held a notepad in his hand. His salt-and-pepper hair danced with the wind, uncovering his eyes, and sparking with curiosity. I noticed the subtle lines around them, testimony to the countless years spent witnessing greatness on track.

“Happy we can do this, Eva. I've been trying since your victory at Imola. Exceptional performance at the Challenge, too, by the way.”

I wasn’t aware of this desire to interview me earlier. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t aware he was even aware of my existence until he met me in the garage, after the podium ceremony.

"Well… now, we have more to talk about," I remarked, my smile flowing naturally. Anderson nodded, directing his gaze toward the cameraman, a signal to commence recording. "Be gentle with me," I quipped, playfully brushing aside my anxiety.

His laughter rang out. "No need to worry."

Casting a final glance at Alexei and Henrik, the latter waving at me just before Anderson shifted in his seat, reclaiming my attention, I took a final deep breath. This wasn't within my training regimen. I was nervous. My belly aching.

“Eva, let me start by congratulating you on your remarkable performance this weekend. You stepped in for your teammate Matteo Serra during the practice session. Could you walk us through how you adapted to the situation so quickly and what mindset you had going into the race?”

I nodded. My hands were on my thighs, fingers almost melting with the fabric of my jeans. Jesus. This was hard. On top of that, I could feel Alexei’s coal eyes on me, the intensity of his gaze travelling above Anderson’s shoulder, boring into me.

“Yeah, well. First of all, thank you,” I began, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. The sunlight played across my face, warming my skin as I spoke. The journalist's expression seemed to relax, his posture slowly becoming more open. “Ahm—right, honestly, it was a whirlwind. Stepping into Matteo’s shoes so unexpectedly meant a quick mental switch. But that's what we’re trained for and what the team expects from me. I had to quickly familiarize myself with the track and the car's nuances… So, the team support was crucial, really. Alexei and Henrik were amazing the whole weekend,” I glanced towards my teammates, looking at each other, smiling. “We worked together to ensure a seamless transition, and I'm truly grateful for their trust.”

The slight tremor in my fingers betrayed the composed façade I was trying to showcase. I could feel the weight of the race weekend on my shoulders.

“Your performance during the race, particularly your amazing overtakes, drew the attention of many in the paddock.” The reporter went again. “Can you share the strategy and approach you took to navigate through the field and secure that impressive fourth-place finish?”

“Well, thank you again.” I chuckled softly, the sound carrying a mixture of humility and genuine pleasure. “I’m not used to this, I’ll admit.”

“Just being honest.”

“Okay—well… the strategy was a mix of precision and calculated risk. The adrenaline was pumping, and I was fully immersed in the race… And when the command to push came, and I realised the team trusted me, I just went for it. My general approach was to find those windows of opportunity without compromising the overall strategy… I mean, we had more pace than we expected and we had to make something out of it. We didn’t qualify great, what was a boomer, because we had faith we could qualify in the top 10. So, that not being the case, we had to be at 110%. The team did amazing with the pitstops, and the guys did amazing stints as well… And.. Since I was feeling comfortable with the car—thankfully I drive a similar car in another series, so it became a bit easier… I had to go for it. So, yeah—It's quite surreal to think about it now, but… I'm still in awe of how everything came together.”

My gaze drifted to the marks of tire rubber still visible on the asphalt. I could almost feel the energy of the cars rushing through the main straight, my feet vibrating with the phantom energy still running around us.

“You mentioned the team’s trust… DAR Racing's decision to extend your stint turned out to be a wise move since we could clearly see that you were getting gradually more confident in the car and risking more. At your level, with so little experience, how did you manage to maintain your focus and energy during that crucial period of the race? Did doubt quick in or…?”

This time, I couldn’t find comfort in the details on the pitlane. Anderson’s eyes didn’t leave mine. Curiosity glistened through his dark eyes, his passion and interest so clear. Probably he had noticed my state on the radio. The thousand questions I asked, how I pressed from lap times and places of improvement. I was freaking out inside the car. Properly. I wanted to go fast. Faster. I wanted to come out of every corner perfectly.

“Interesting point… Yeah—So…” I took a moment, my hands subtly trembling from a mix of lingering adrenaline and fatigue. My eyes flickered toward the reporter, his expression a mix of interest and empathy. “Maintaining focus and energy during the stint was undoubtedly challenging.” Pause. A small breath. “As the laps went by, I did feel a surge of confidence building within me but the team's strategy and encouragement played a huge role in keeping me on track, both mentally and physically.” I chuckled softly, a glint of self-awareness in my eyes, realizing the play of words. “But yeah—doubt is a natural human response in such a demanding situation. I’d never done anything similar. Or even raced for this much time. What was it? A bit more than an hour and a half?” Pause. He nodded. “Yeah. So. There’s a lot involved and a big part is the mental game. I'm grateful I had the right support system to keep me motivated through the race.”

Alexei's presence stretched through the pitlane, his supportive gaze feeling like a reassuring anchor. Henrik, with his elbow perched on Alexei’s shoulder, sent me a nod of approval. They were witnesses to the doubt, to the lack of sleep on Thursday night when I was notified that Matteo was on his way to the hospital, after throwing up for almost one hour straight and my body and mind couldn’t seem to handle the fact I would be driving that weekend.

They were patient. They made it possible.

I couldn’t help but smile.

Anderson, probably noticing the silent exchange, looked over his shoulder. Turning to me, another question hung on his lips. “You seem really in sync with the team. And all throughout the weekend, I've noticed that many drivers and personnel from rival teams came over to congratulate you, especially yesterday, during the celebrations. Could you speak about the role of… camaraderie and sportsmanship in your approach to motorsports?”

“Absolutely,” I affirmed with a genuine smile. “Those values are essential aspects of motorsports for me. Racing is not just about individual performance—it's being part of a larger community. Every driver—rather, every person on the paddock shares a common passion, and that creates a unique bond. I believe that mutual respect and support make the racing experience richer and more fulfilling. When rivals come over to offer their congratulations, it shows that we're all part of a shared journey. And that helps put things in perspective.” I paused, my gaze returning to the journalist's attentive expression. “I grew up with a lot of good examples of great sportsmen, from different ages and backgrounds. They inspire me to be the athlete I am. And I learn from them. I know and I’ve seen that being in sync with my team and everyone around me is paramount. And about the team… we're like a well-oiled machine, working together to achieve a common goal. The team’s trust in me and my trust in them is the key to achieving an environment where we can perform at our best.”

“What happens now?” Anderson leaned back on his chair, crossing his right leg over the other. “What are the plans for the future? Do you think this race opened a couple more doors your way?”

It’s PR, I remembered myself.

“Right now, I'm still taking in the incredible experience of this race and savouring the team's success,” I began, my voice carrying a blend of satisfaction and excitement. “Looking ahead, the future holds exciting possibilities, that’s for sure. But we still have a few races this year, so we'll continue to analyze our performance, identify areas for improvement, and build on the momentum we've gained. And as for my personal journey… I believe this race has indeed opened a couple more doors for me. It's a validation of the hard work and dedication I've poured into my career. It’s not been easy, and the road has been long and hard, so it’s positive to see how it’s unfolding. I'm truly ready to embrace whatever challenges and opportunities come my way. Whether it's stepping up to compete more regularly, collaborating with other teams, or pursuing new ventures—I can say I'm determined to make the most of the doors that may or may not open and strive for even greater achievements in the future. Whatever they are.”

“I remember seeing you in FRECA, and it was a shame you didn't have a chance to end your amazing 2019 campaign.” My teeth sunk into my bottom lip. I was not expecting to go so deep into the past. “Did the unexpected end to the season, with you not taking part in the last races of the season, have anything to do with the break you took in 2020 and the new route you took last year?”

“Yes, well—” I moved in my chair. “The end of the 2019 season didn't go as planned, and it did play a role in the decisions I made afterwards. However, the break I took in 2020 was primarily a result of some personal issues and the need to focus on my overall well-being. With the pandemic, that forced me to slow down, I realized that I needed to take a step back, regroup, and come back stronger.”

As I spoke, the memories of that challenging period flickered in my mind—the uncertainties, the doubts, and the eventual realization that prioritizing my mental and emotional health was essential. 2019 was supposed to be my big year, the breakout. Yet, it was an utter nightmare. Losing a seat over team politics and small-minded men, especially when I was a championship contender, felt worse than anything I’ve ever experienced.

“Can you elaborate a bit more on those personal issues?” Anderson tilted his head.

“I understand the curiosity, but I'd prefer to keep the specifics to myself.” Once again, the reported nodded.

"It's known you took a different route and you've not been driving full-time since then. Do you see racing as a hobby? It’s a very expensive one to have.” He chuckled. I moved in my seat.

Well, you would never say that to a man, I thought to myself.

“It’s certainly far more than a hobby for me. While it's true that my journey has taken a unique path in recent years, it's important to note that every step I've taken has been with a specific purpose.” I paused, not sure if I was truly conveying the message I aimed for.

2020 had been tough. Mom and Dad quarantining in Verona, with my grandparents. Rio focused on his heavily pregnant wife and, later, their newborn twins. Carlos was… doing his thing. And I was at home, being consumed by a monster that fed on my own sadness and self-doubt. I didn’t want to project that image. The world couldn’t know that person.

“As you know, the commitment, dedication, and effort required in motorsports are immense and it's not a pursuit I take lightly.” I continued. “As with any other driver, there are challenges outside racing. Some can handle them better than others. I felt the need to stop for a while and take it easy on myself. That doesn’t make me less of a driver.”

“Is this hybrid mode, if I can call it that, helping with those issues?”

“It helped, until now. A lot of other drivers have a business on the side, that’s just a small percentage of what I do. Did.” I corrected myself. “I intend to be 100% focused on racing next year.”

“What made you take that decision?”

“The timing feels right, both personally and professionally.”

“You’re on a high, that’s for sure,” Anderson said, his hand meddling with his pen. “Considering those challenges you've mentioned, how do you feel your experiences outside the track have influenced your approach to racing now?”

"A lot has been happening these last two years. To be honest, I’m still in the process of looking back, reflecting on my journey and reevaluating my goals. Especially these last weeks… I’ve reencountered some people from the past and it helped me to look behind… It helped me gain a deeper understanding of myself, my strengths, and the areas I wanted to work on. As a result, I'm feeling more like myself. Every good or bad thing that happens is a part of us. And it’s not a setback, it’s just a… detour. A part of the comeback, too.” Anderson smiled at my worlds, I smiled too. “This weekend showed me exactly that—that I’m still the girl I was a few years ago. All the setbacks I’ve found… All my experiences, really, have taught me the importance of balance, resilience, and essentially mental well-being, which I believe are essential not only for success on the track but also for overall fulfilment.”

“And as for the future? Could you tell us a bit more about the specific goals you're aiming to achieve with DAR Racing and in your motorsport career moving forward?”

“And as to the future…” I paused. “My focus is on continuous improvement and pushing my limits. And working on myself. I'm fortunate to be part of a team that believes in my potential and supports my growth. Right now, my goal is to contribute to the team's success, while also aiming to achieve personal milestones, of course. It’s all very in the open, to be honest. As I said, I'm dedicated to making the most of every opportunity and showcasing my abilities. Ultimately? I aspire to compete at the highest level, as any other athlete."

"Highest level?” His eyebrow pointed up. “What do you exactly mean?”

"Competing against the best. Motorsport offers various tiers of competition, and my ultimate goal is to eventually reach the pinnacle of motorsport, whether it's in Formula 1, endurance racing, or any other top-tier championship.” Anderson seemed surprised. I cracked a laugh and he followed. “Doesn’t hurt to dream, does it? I’m aware this journey requires consistent dedication, hard work, and especially the right opportunities. I’m just leaving it in the open." I shrugged.

"So, the single-seaters aren’t out of the question?"

"Absolutely not! Formula 1 remains a dream—more than that, a goal. While my current focus is on endurance racing, I wouldn't rule out the possibility of pursuing a career in single-seaters if the right opportunity arises.”

“That’s bold.”

“Can’t settle for less.”

Anderson laughed and extended his hand in my direction. “That’s the spirit.”

Amanda rented a small Airbnb in Berlin, paid for the company, of course, and located less than 5 minutes away from her client’s new store. The floor of the entrance hall was all boxes and shopping bags, greeting me as I arrived. On the corner, there was a small space for my shoes, the only free space, actually, which meant that I had to grab my suitcase and hover it over the boxes, to make my way to my room.

She had texted me just as I landed, telling me she would be at the store all morning and that I could use some time to sleep and rest and join her at the store in the afternoon. And despite being massively jet-lagged, I couldn’t phantom the idea of going to bed at noon. My body was completely disoriented after a twenty-hour flight that had departed from Japan on Monday night and landed in Berlin on Tuesday morning.

The concept of time didn’t make sense at all.

During the flight, I immersed myself in a sea of and stories about myself. The spotlight was glaring down on me, the expectations and anticipation weighing down my shoulders. “WHAT COMES NEXT?” plastered across every other tweet or headline. And, of course, I asked myself the same question.

Little did I realize that my little pastime was nurturing the little monster hidden in a corner of my mind, that I so desperately tried to ignore by eating cookies and Doritos and drinking whatever beverage they had available on the flight.

I’d said more than I should in the interview with Anderson, I realized.

In every other tweet, my name was linked to Carlos, to his dad and to a potential seat in F3 that I knew nothing about. On every social media post, a lot more comments than usual, especially after Marjorie’s Mallorca dump, where I was pictured with Carlos behind me, on the boat, his hand over my shoulder—what quickly became “proof” to our connection.

Too much happening in such little time.

And time didn’t make sense.

And my body ached.

And Even Amanda, whom I thought would be focused at work, was swept up in the buzz of the moment. There was a bottle of Ferrari champagne on the dinning table. “We will open it at dinner”, a small note said.

I couldn’t make tea because I couldn’t find the teapot, and heating up water in the microwave was just too low. I was tired. I needed coffee or tea, or just anything with a strong flavour and enough caffeine, and then I remembered there was a small coffee shop downstairs.

But I was just so tired, and so in need of a break, that my feet took me to the empty room at the end of the hallway and I collapsed in bed. Not to sleep. But just to take a break. To exist and listen to the silence, and to life happening outside, in some random street of Berlin.

The grip of jet lag tightened as Berlin’s heat added to my discomfort.

I rolled in bed.

And then I remembered that for the first time in more than a week, Carlos and I were in the same time zone. And life seemed a bit better. I stretched my hand to the phone. There was a message from him hanging in my inbox. “Call me when you land.”

“Oh, you were quick to pick up,” I said, my voice laced with traces of tiredness.

He chuckled on the other side of the line. “Yeah, it seems I can’t go too long without hearing from you. Is the flat nice?”

“It's cozy. Going to be an interesting experience sharing the place with Amanda for a few days. I had to perform some serious parkour moves just to get through the entrance because the hallway is packed with boxes. She’s not exactly the tidiest person.”

Carlos laughed softly. “As if you could talk.”

I playfully sighed. “I’m sorry, Mr. Virgo, if I don’t live up to your standards.”

He chuckled again, the sound soothing and familiar. "Well, just make sure you don't trip over any of those boxes. I need you whole when you get back."

"I'll do my best," I replied, a grin sneaking onto my face despite the fatigue that still clung to me. "How's your day been so far?"

We fell into an easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. His words were like a balm, easing away the remnants of jet lag and anxiety and replacing them with a sense of connection that stretched across the miles. He was still in Italy, getting ready to fly for Zandvoort. It would be a packed week, apparently. Starting on Wednesday, all the way to Sunday. And then repeat all of that for Monza, the next week. At a certain point, he started complaining about Rio and his insistence on taking Team 55 to dinner to celebrate Carlos’ birthday, and then spending midnight together, have a drink and toast to another year.

I would be at said dinner, but that surprise was something Carlos didn't need to know just yet.

Between stories of Amsterdam and Zandvoort and how Spa had gone for him, we finally reached the topic. Japan. The podium.

“About that,” Carlos's voice echoed warmly through the phone's speaker. I settled deeper into the comfy pillows, his words soothing away the fatigue that had clung to me since landing. "You won't believe it, but he couldn’t shut up about you. I've never seen Rio so damn proud as he was on Sunday," he confessed.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. "That's a first," I replied, my voice laced with amusement. "I think he'd sooner admit to believing in unicorns than admit to praising me.”

Carlos chuckled softly, and I could almost picture the affectionate smile on his face. “I barely saw him at the garage. He was around… networking, as he put it. Even took some notes from Caco.”

“He better take lessons from the master. Guess I'll have to rely on him since I don't have Dad to do it for me anymore.” Carlos cleared his throat, and it sounded like a gentle reprimand. “What was that for?”

“You would do it even if you were alone.”

“I don’t have the people skills for that.”

“You do,” he quickly interjected. His words hung in the air, and I scrunched my nose, the silence between us perhaps conveying more than words ever could. “Are you having doubts?”

I pondered for a moment, my body shifting in bed as if searching for a more comfortable posture to handle the subject. “Hm. It’s too late for that,” I began. “I mean, it's all done now, you know? I've adjudicated all my clients to other colleagues. My agenda is clean. I've sent my resignation letter. I’m just tying up some loose ends now.”

“That’s good,” Carlos said, and then a heavy silence enveloped us once more. It felt like a looming shadow, draping itself over me, heavy and dark. “Isn’t it?”

“It is. It just…” I hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Yes?”

“I’m… apprehensive.”

“Okay…” I heard him take a deep breath, and I closed my eyes, yearning for his comforting presence. “Why? What’s going on inside?”

A warmth spread through me, knowing that he cared enough to ask these questions. “Do we really need to have this talk?”

“Yes.” His response was firm, yet there was an undeniable gentleness in his voice. I felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of vulnerability and relief. God. How much I needed him right there at that moment. “I don’t want you to carry the weight of this change alone.”

Something shifted inside me, a sense of support that I hadn’t fully acknowledged before. I let out a sigh, feeling a strange weight lifting off my shoulders. The liberty to be human, and act like myself. To have fears, and doubts and to have the liberty to be vulnerable and share them.

“It’s been a lot, you know?” My voice cracked as my throat seemed to become small. I paused for a second, just to hear him hum on the other side, encouraging me to continue. “I can’t visualize it. I can’t see myself there, because I don’t feel like there is. I feel lost. And tired. People expect me to know what I want. To know the way. To be fierce and decisive, but I'm not that person. At least not now. I'm seeing her again, but I'm still... lost. I have this… thing. An anxiety that lives here, that I can’t put on hold.”

“Eva—”

“No, let me finish. I have more than enough reasons to know I’m kind of good, to know I’m good. But there’s something screaming that I’m not great. That I’m not enough. That I should have never stopped, that I should have started racing sooner… I mean, take my interview with Andeson.” I paused. “I said too much, people are talking and going deeper into my life, and stalking my socials and making theories about everything. I have people liking photos from 2015, for heaven's sake. And I’m refusing to go on Twitter because I don’t want to read what they’re saying.”

Carlos chuckled, his voice soothing. “That's how it goes, love. It shouldn't be that way, but it's unfortunately part of the package. Remember that’s not what matters.”

“What happens on the track is what matters,” I asserted.

“Exactly,” Carlos took a deep breath before continuing. "I know you like being in your bubble, Eva. I do too. But unfortunately, I'll have to share you with the world if we want a chance to keep your name in their mouths. And we need that chance because you deserve a great seat for next year."

I sighed, understanding the weight of his words. "Share me, huh?"

He let out a playful sigh. "Let me be a bit selfish here. I just got you back, and now I'll have to share you with the world? Unfair."

"Is it really that hard to bear?"

Carlos replied in a teasing tone, "You have no idea. Sharing you with the world? Torture."

I chuckled, his playful tone bringing a sense of lightness to our conversation. "Well, I'll try to make it as painless as possible for you. Besides, you'll always have a special VIP pass to my bubble."

He chuckled, his voice warm and affectionate. "I'll hold you to that. Now…” he hesitated. "I have to leave in… 20-ish minutes. Nap time for you?"

I sighed dramatically. "Yeah, I guess I can squeeze in a bit of sleep."

"Good,” He paused. “You need rest"

"And you're not mad about me missing the GP?"

There was a short pause before he answered, his voice sincere. "I won't lie and say I'm thrilled, but I understand. Work's work, love. And I’ll have you in Monza. We'll have our celebration whenever is possible."

I smiled, warmth flooding through me. "Thank you for understanding, even when I'm disappointing your birthday plans."

He chuckled. "It’s okay, bebé. I'll survive the birthday blues. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself. And get enough rest."

"I promise," I said softly, gratitude filling my voice.

“I’ll call you tonight.”

“Counting on it.”

I nestled back into the pillows, my mind finally quieting down as I let sleep claim me once more. Our conversation replayed in my thoughts, a reminder that no matter the miles between us or the challenges we faced, our bond remained.

“Carlos’ birthday is tomorrow,” I said. On the other side of the line, Marjorie's affirming hum tickled my ear. “What do you give a man that has everything?”

Marjorie's voice crackled through, a touch raspy and warm. “Really good head.”

I haltered, trying to muffle a chuckle and glanced discreetly at the man on the opposite side of the counter. I couldn't help but wonder if he overheard her audacious suggestion; it was practically impossible, but his stern expression made me second-guess.

“Let’s keep it a little more PG, shall we?” I whispered, my words barely escaping my lips. “I was thinking more along the lines of a watch. You know, like a normal person.”

She giggled, unapologetic. “Yeah, your denial game is strong.”

“You wouldn’t buy it even if I tried.” I think I sounded more annoyed than I expected, and Marjorie’s quick reply and tone did indeed confirm it.

“True. So, why deny it anyway?”

I shifted my gaze to the abstract painting on the wall, and then to the display filled with bracelets and watches. The light refracted on the screens, glistening and tempting me to pick one of them up. I approached one of the displays. One of the Rolex watches seemed to smile at me.

“It’s complicated,” I murmured.

“That’s your favourite word.” She paused, the silence a bit dull, but I wasn’t sure of what to say. “But you don’t need to say a thing, you know? It’s pretty darn obvious what’s going on between you two. Seriously, even standing five meters away, it’s nauseating.”

“Marge, don’t—”

“Eva, I get it. You want to take things slow, bla bla bla, I know your speech, already. It’s the same for every boy. Nut come on! It’s Carlos! I know you always liked him. And even if he was a stranger… I mean he’s still Carlos Sainz.” She sighed.

“You won’t shut up, will you?”

“Never.” She paused for a second, and when I thought I could speak, she started again. "We all were in Mallorca, and I've seen enough walks of shame to spot one. And it was almost suffocating near you during Blanca’s dinner. The tension was absurd.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. At least stop being weird about it.”

“I’m not weird about anything. I called you just want your help to choose a gift for his birthday and you didn’t even let me talk yet. Are you and Rio giving him something?”

“Yes. Your brother is giving him something, not sure what, honestly.”

“You’re really trusting him with that?”

“It’s his best friend. If he fucks up, it's his responsibility.” She quipped and then cracked a laugh. I chuckled silently, my eyes drifting through the small collection.

“Going back to my gift…” I brought the conversation back on track.

“Yes…”

“I left the store to go pick up some food for lunch and I found a cute little shop on the way,” I started. It was much more than "cute"—it was truly a hidden gem in the heart of Berlin. “I was thinking of something vintage, you know? A watch… with a leather bracelet, maybe. And I don’t have much time to waste because I’m leaving today to Zandvoort and I can’t get there with anything.”

“He has a collection of watches, Eva.”

“He has literally a collection of everything,” I sighed. “Hence the challenge. I want to stand out.”

“Well, I told you one way to stand out.”

"I'm trying to be a little more sophisticated here," I retorted.

"Oh, do you need suggestions for a no-smudge red lipstick?" Marjorie countered, her suggestion dripping with mischievous wit. “I can help with that.”

“Fuck off.”

“Babe, you showing up there will be nicer than any watch.”

I hummed, my feet tracing the store floors, walking the steps I’d already walked twice or thrice that evening. before calling Marjorie, I’d spent ten minutes in there, staring at the watches, and despite loving the atmosphere and the feeling of all my senses being captivated by the allure of history, I was in need of going back outside and getting some food.

Every piece was a good pick.

Each one with a story of its own, sparkling under the soft glow of the display lights, their gears whispering secrets of forgotten eras, waiting to be unveiled by its new owner.

I picked up a beautiful antique Rolex with a leather strap, the rich aroma of aged leather mingling with the fragrance of nostalgia that permeated the air. It exuded an air of sophistication, and I could already picture him wearing it under the brim of his race suit.

“I’m sending you a pic on WhatsApp.”

And after I did, Marjorie's voice came through the phone, breaking my reverie. "That one is lovely.”

“But it’s so… normal.” I sighed, feeling torn between the classic elegance of the leather bracelet and the desire to find something truly unique for Carlos.

"It’s a Rolex.” She deadpanned. “I swear to God, it’s been years since I married into this family and I still can’t relate to you all. But yeah, somehow I get what you mean. But it's Carlos. He doesn't care about extravagant."

“But I do.”

“Miss,” the shop owner's voice interrupted our conversation, and I turned to face him with a polite smile. "I'm really sorry to disturb you, but we’re about to close.”

I nodded apologetically at the shop owner, realizing that I had been so engrossed in my conversation with Marjorie that I hadn't noticed the time. "Of course, I'm sorry. I got carried away… Marge,” I talked into the phone. “I’ll call you later, ok?"

"No need to apologize," he said kindly, gesturing towards the watch in my hand. "You seem to have a good eye for these kind of pieces. Is there anything specific you're looking for?"

"Well," I hesitated, glancing back at the watch and the man before it put it down in its place. "I'm trying to find a birthday gift.?"

The old man smiled understandingly, his eyes glistening under his round glasses. "Well,” he looked at his watch. “I can spare a few more minutes to help you, miss. Is it for a friend? A family member?"

"A friend. He travels a lot, he’s a racing driver… So I was thinking of something like a watch or a bracelet, something practical that he can carry around or just… something to have at home…? I mean…” I paused, my eyes wandering through the counter, my iris meeting the shiny screens of the watch under the store lights. “He has tons of watches, and now that I’m thinking about it, he’s not a guy to wear bracelets. It’s… a challenge.”

The old man's face lit up, a raspy smoker's chuckle leaving his wrinkly lips. "Ja, I know how difficult it can be. What does that friend value? What does he like?" The man leaned against the counter, his wrinkly hand holding onto the sturdy wood, while the other one traveled to the pocket of his cardigan.

"Meaning, I think," I replied, my fingers tracing the edge of the polished wooden counter. "He has basically everything already, so it's difficult to find something. Not that he's hard to please. Not at all. I'm just very picky, even when it comes to gifts for other people."

"Meaning," the old man mused, his eyes scanning the shop's interior. "You mentioned he's a driver, right?" I nodded in confirmation. "How about something that combines his love for racing with a touch of nostalgia?"

I furrowed my brows, intrigued by his suggestion. "What do you suggest?"

The old man's eyes gleamed with excitement as he led me toward a large leather album, slightly bigger than A3 paper, resting on a wooden display stand. "I was a big motorsport fan back in the day," he began, his voice carrying the weight of cherished memories. "I even traveled to America to watch some good old NASCAR races. Fortunately, I had the opportunity to meet many drivers and collected a few things people find valuable now."

With his permission, I opened the album to reveal a treasure trove of race posters, each one meticulously preserved and adorned with signatures from drivers and team owners. The pages were filled with a rich tapestry of racing history from various series.

"Oh, are these race posters?" I asked in awe.

The old man nodded proudly. "They are all signed, by drivers and team owners, from a variety of racing series. Perhaps a poster from Le Mans from his birth year? Or... what does he drive? What does he enjoy?"

"Formula 1," I replied. And then I looked up to him. "Maybe a poster from the Spanish Grand Prix of '94, if it's available?"

The old man's eyes sparkled with recognition. "Ah, the Spanish Grand Prix of '94. That was a memorable one. I think it’s in there somewhere."

As I stepped out of the shop, the poster and a frame we picked after were inside a carton box, with a lot of tape around it. It would survive the flight, I hoped. I couldn't help but notice how picturesque Berlin looked that afternoon. The sun cast a warm golden hue on the architecture, turning even the most ordinary scenes into works of art. I adjusted my sunglasses, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling city. Cobblestone streets wound through neighbourhoods that seemed to have their own stories to tell.

With each step, I felt a little more grounded, the rhythm of my strides syncing with the beat of the city. People passed by, their conversations forming a melodic backdrop. Laughter spilt out from sidewalk cafes, and the aroma of various cuisines filled the air.

Eva: “weird to think that i once thought germans were the prettiest europeans”

Marjorie: “a loooot of layers to debunk there”

Eva: “they were mostly football players and sebastian vettel. not that many layers.”

Marjorie: “vettel? wow, that’s soooo surprising” Marjorie: ”no one would EVER guess your taste in men”

Eva: “yeah? what’s my taste in men then?”

Marjorie: “former red bull athletes that raced/race for ferrari?” Marjorie: ”duh”

Eva: “you’re so annoying”

Marjorie: “did you get the gift?”

Eva: “yes”

Marjorie: “what did you get?”

Eva: “ill show you later”

Marjorie: “ok, now you can stop overthinking and focus on the handsome spaniard waiting for you and the amazing birthday sex he's in for”

Eva: "omg” Eva: "can’t believe you’re a MOM”

Helping Amanda at the store helped me more than I wanted to admit. I liked being busy. I needed to be busy. Spreadsheets and checklists were the perfect escape from the stress accumulating in my mind. I needed that, the sense of being in control. And if I felt like I was not totally controlling my career, still being discussed online, at least I could be in control of numbers and store openings.

"Last project as a team?" Amanda's voice reached me, her back turned as she meticulously arranged fake flowers in a jar. "I finally saw your interview last night. Full dedication to racing, starting next year."

I leaned against an unopened box, half my size, my fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the cardboard's surface. "Yeah, I've mentioned this to you before.” I took a break, using the seconds to take a breath. “I mean, I gave you like 70% of my clients."

She finally turned around, a plastic sunflower hanging from her fingers. "Yeah. I know. But I gotta admit, I half-expected you to stick around. Keep a client or two... Just in case."

A bead of sweat trickled down my back, my palms slightly sweaty as I wiped them against the cool fabric of my shorts.

"To be honest," I began, my gaze meeting hers. "No, I'm not entirely sure. But I don't think I ever will be. It just feels like something I need to do, you know? Stop doubting and take the leap."

She continued to observe me, her expression thoughtful. "And if it goes wrong?"

"Then I start over, just like I did a few years ago.” I settled onto an ottoman chair, taking a deep breath and picking my bottle of water from the side table. “Difference is: I have my own resources now. I have money. My money. I can travel, I can afford to try. I won't be relying on anyone else, this time."

"At all?" Her question carried a weight that made me frown. "I've seen the news. I've seen Twitter."

I rolled my eyes. "Ah, Twitter."

Her gaze remained steady on mine, unwavering. "So, are you two together or not?"

I sighed, a mixture of frustration and exasperation bubbling up. "Amanda, for once, I want to be my own person. To pursue my own dreams on my own terms." Stepping forward, I brushed my hands on my shorts, attempting to get rid of the sweat. "He's my friend, a really good one. But we’re talking work, not personal life."

She persisted, her tone unwavering. "Let's delve into the personal, then."

Turning away, I picked up a couple of the already empty cardboard boxes. "Honestly, I'd prefer if we didn't," I mumbled, carrying them towards the trash.

After ensuring Amanda wouldn't spontaneously combust from store-opening nerves, and after hearing her apologies for the intrusion, I bid farewell to Berlin. Every checklist and spreadsheet was printed and laminated, ready to be used for the inauguration. The gift boxes for the guests were carefully arranged on the counter and all the frames and backdrops for photos were set.

The airport buzzed with its customary end-of-August throng, yet, the line at security wasn’t so long.

As I dumped my belongings into the tray, the soft clinking of metal snagged my focus. My gaze drifted down, catching the glint of a tiny golden steering wheel illuminated by the airport's harsh lights.

A soft chuckle escaped my lips, swallowed by the surrounding crowd.

I’d been carrying it around since I’d left the track, half-drunk and drenched in champagne. I recalled being wearied by the day's events, too tipsy to recall the basics of Japanese and to walk in a straight line. I also remembered stumbling upon a souvenir stand near the track, my eyes fixating on those sparkling keychains. They had looked so delicate and golden, so artfully crafted that one might mistake them for actual gold if not for the 3000 yen price tag dangling from them—just shy of 20€.

Purchasing it had stirred up memories of our old tradition, those times when we'd strive to find the quirkiest gifts for each other. Snowglobes, magnets, postcards—each trinket carrying memories of the places we'd visited without each other.

"have fun at your dinner, soon to be birthday boy," I sent him a text as I settled into one of the seats by my gate.

Upon landing, a mirror selfie greeted me. There he was—a playful rogue, fresh out of the shower and sporting nothing but a strategically draped towel around his waist. A pout adorned his lips.

And as the caption: “i’ll try, but i’m feeling pretty lonely out here”

A one-shoulder black top draped over my frame, the asymmetrical neckline cutting the line of my chest. The wide linen pants I wore flowed gracefully with each of my steps, their relaxed fit exuding a laid-back vibe. My pants were cinched at the waist with a black leather belt, adding a subtle touch of edginess to the outfit. I reapplied my make-up in the Uber, after dropping my suitcases and the frame at the hotel lobby. Rio had arranged everything—a schedule so meticulously programmed that I couldn’t believe it was programmed by him.

I soon found myself standing outside the restaurant, my phone in hand as I dialled his number. Amsterdam was bursting with fans and tourists, nothing out of the ordinary for a night at the end of August, nearing the Grand Prix. Lost while observing the small crowds tracing the streets, I only noticed my brother’s familiar grin when he was close enough to trap me in a hug.

"Eva!" he held all the pride of the world in that hug.

"Hi," I laughed lightly. "Hey! I kinda need to breathe, you know?"

He released me with a sheepish grin, eyes sparkling with affection. He kissed my cheek before taking a step back. "Sorry, I’ve been saving this hug for a while now. And wow… The lipstick. Suits you.”

I put my hand on his chest, over the buttons of his dark green polo. “You're not looking too shabby yourself.”

His laughter echoed, genuine and carefree, as he linked his arm with mine. “Well, I do try to keep up appearances once or twice a year.”

“For birthdays and Christmas?”

“Yeah. Something like it.”

We strolled into the restaurant together. The anticipation of the evening hung in the air, tugging in my belly. God, what’s this feeling?

“What did you tell them?”

“Oh, you know—” Rio scratched the back of his neck. “Something about needing to take a call?”

I burst into laughter. "You literally managed to secretly arrange a flight and extra hotel room but couldn't come up with a more believable excuse for this?"

Rio joined in my laughter. "Hey, it worked! No one asked too many questions."

"Fair enough. Where’s the table?”

“At the back,” he pointed at an arch in the brick wall of the restaurant. “Have you spoken to Dad?”

“Not tonight, Rio,” I replied, pausing for a moment and turning slightly to face him. “Can we talk about all that tomorrow? It’s been a lot. I just want to eat something decent, rather, drink something decent and have a good time.”

He kissed my cheek. “Sure. I’m proud of you. Just remember that.”

Carlos was seated facing the archway, and my gaze was drawn to him the instant Rio and I stepped through it. It took Carlos a brief moment longer to register our presence. He was engrossed in conversation, his brows knit together as he spoke animatedly, his hands dancing with fervour as he talked. The room seemed to grow silent as my eyes focused on him. Then, as if pulled by an invisible force, his gaze met mine.

And the world went completely silent.

His lips curved into a smile that transformed his features, smoothing away any tension. He seemed to be filled with light and I felt so weightless, I felt I could have floated through the air like a feather—it wasn't the sensation of falling for him; or falling for each other, but rather the exhilarating feeling of ascending together, drawn irresistibly toward each other's orbit.

And I felt at ease.

Rio playfully tugged at my arm, drawing me further into the restaurant. "He's so ridiculously in love," he teased with a knowing grin, watching his best friend, already getting up from his chair.

A wistful smile touched my lips, my heart echoing with silent questions. The words hung unspoken in the air, a gentle whisper carried by the currents of emotion that flowed between us.

It was warm and cold at the same time. Too much happening and nothing at all.

“Fuck off,” I whispered. My brother just laughed.

My steps quickened with each heartbeat, a subtle urgency pushing me forward, almost outpacing my brother’s pace. I had to consciously force myself to walk slowly and not betray my haste to reach the table. All the way, my eyes didn’t leave Carlos, already on his feet, his hand resting casually on the back of his char. Effortless attire—whitewashed jeans and a simple T-shirt. His hair was a charming mess, tempting me to run my fingers through the tousled strands.

Around the table, faces were beginning to light up with recognition and surprise, the gathering of friends and acquaintances slowly rising to greet us. I waved at them, “Hi! Good night,” and a soft giggle bubbled from my lips as I caught the shared amusement on Carlos' friends' faces.

“Hey,” Carlos said.

As he leaned in to press a warm kiss to my cheek, the familiarity of his touch ignited a sense of comfort. He smelled nice. His hands found their way around me, wrapping me in a hug that felt both familiar and intoxicatingly new. I reciprocated the embrace, savouring the closeness while maintaining an air of casualness as if this were an ordinary occurrence.

“You’re here.” He whispered, the small sound cutting through the noise echoing in the room.

“I am,” I murmured softly, my voice carrying a warmth that was reserved for him alone. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Carlos chuckled, his breath tickling my ear as he pulled away. "What are you doing here? You must be exhausted."

"Just a little jet-lagged," I admitted with a sheepish smile, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten in his presence. “Nothing a good night of sleep and some Red Bull tomorrow won’t solve.”

"Red Bull, huh? Giving the opponents some business, are we?" Caco playfully remarked, dragging his chair to the side, to create space to add another seat to the table.

I chuckled, playing along. "Well, a little cross-team support never hurt anyone, right?"

"Alright, everyone," Rio's voice cut through our moment; by his side, two waitresses, one of them carrying a chair and the other one a set of plates and a glass. "We need another seat here, please." He motioned to the place between his and Carlos’ seats. “And bring back the menu, please, so she can pick something to eat.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, short moments after, taking my seat. “And I’ll just have some carbonara. No need for the menu.”

“Welcome back, Eva,” Caco said, before picking up the bottle of wine and filling my glass. “We missed you around here.”

The night was alive with energy, laughter, and the warmth of connection.

It felt nice to be back in the midst of a Team 55 dinner, just like it used to happen years ago when Carlos still wore yellow or orange and we were too blind to actually read through the lines. The familiarity of faces, the shared jokes and the easy camaraderie were a comforting reminder of the bonds that had formed over time, and that he was in good hands those last years.

It had been three years since the last Grand Prix I attended by Carlos' side. He was a man, now. A Grand Prix race winner. A Ferrari driver. He wore red, burning red. The Italian anthem had played for him. Not many had that honour.

The low hum of conversation blended seamlessly with the clinking of glasses and the occasional bursts of laughter. I let myself observe the group, the connection between them all, the aura around the table. It was like stepping into the past and finding home, once again.

As the clock neared midnight, Rio leaned in with a sly smile. "I think it's time for some champagne, don't you think?"

“Oh, no, I—We have work tomorrow,” Carlos’ voice was interrupted by a chorus of boos that echoed around the table. From the archway, a waitress appeared with a tray of mini burgers adorned with candles in her hands. “Oh, you didn’t!”

His laughter blended perfectly with the melody of “Happy Birthday” being echoed from everyone in the room, not only from our table but from the other ones, too. I focused my eyes on him, only to find out he was already looking at me, grin wide and eyes glistening.

“Mate, you’re getting old!” Rupert exclaimed before hugging him. “Speech!!" He called out, his strong British accent ringing through the cheers and applause, raising his glass and prompting others to follow suit.

“No, no!” Carlos shook his head, a playful protest on his lips, as the chant grew in volume. "Oh, come on, guys."

“Stop being a chicken, mate. Come on,” my brother whispered.

With a good-natured sigh, Carlos finally stood up, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He surveyed the faces around the table, and then around the room, his gaze lingering on each person before settling on me, his eyes warm and sincere.

"Alright, alright," he began, moving his hands in an attempt to hush the commotion around him. "Well, uh… Another one, right? 28!” The room grew quiet, the attention of every person fixed on Carlos as he spoke from the heart. One of the waiters passed him a flute filled with champagne. He took it in his hands and nodded, before whispering a thank you. "Birthdays have always been a time of reflection for me. A time to look back on the journey, the ups and downs and whatnot, and, of course, the people who have been by my side through it all. These guys right here.” He pointed to the table with the flute. “And I can honestly say that I am so incredibly lucky to have each and every one of you with me." He raised his glass and everyone mirrored his gesture, a sense of camaraderie filling the air. "To the team, to friendship, and to the memories we've created and the ones we're yet to make."

As the glasses clinked together in a toast, the atmosphere was charged with emotion and shared celebration. Carlos took a moment to catch my gaze, a twinkle in his eyes as he added, "And to Eva, who has been a constant source of support and inspiration. Here's to you, to your podium at WEC, and to many more victories."

I felt my cheeks burning and I tried to conceal my smile by having a sip of the champagne.

“To Eva!” My brother exclaimed, his glass raised in the air, prompting the others to follow.

“To Eva!” The room chanted, as Carlos approached me and planted a kiss on my cheek.

“I’m so proud of you.” He whispered.

“I hate you,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

The combination of jetlag, wine, champagne and the events of the night had left me feeling simultaneously exhilarated and tired. As we walked back, the city lights casting a soft glow around us, I leaned into Carlos, my head resting against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me.

“Tired?” he inquired, his voice a gentle caress against the night breeze.

I nodded against his shoulder, my gaze trailing to the figures of our friends walking ahead of us. “And a bit tipsy, I think. The day just went by so quickly.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, his fingers brushing against my arm in a soothing gesture. With a warmth that seeped into my skin, he said, “We’re almost there. 10 minutes and you'll be in bed.”

“No rush, really. I still need to give you your gift and get ready for bed. Lot more than 10 minutes.”

“Okay, then…” He pondered. I looked up, noticing the way his brow furrowed playfully. A small chuckle left my lips. “Let’s say… 40, then.”

“Ugh,” I unfed, wrapping my arm around his waist, under his leather jacket. “That’s a lot of time for someone who slept like… 5 hours today.”

“You needed to rest,” his voice had that tone of concern I was not yet quite used to hearing. “Rest. Not add another fight to the list.”

“And I will rest this weekend. Just hope your driver’s room has a good couch.”

His laughter resonated in the air, the sound a welcome companion in the quiet of the night. “The best in the Ferrari hospitality.”

“I’m in good hands, then.”

We walked in silence for a little while, casually observing the surroundings. Everyone was just too busy living their lives to notice or to care he was there. It was a 5-minute walk from the restaurant to the hotel, our friends had already disappeared from view when we entered through a side door, free from the small crowd that could potentially be waiting at the main entrance.

“How was Japan?” He asked when we were racing the elevators.

I smiled, my head turning from the closed doors to his face. “Wild.” The memories of the race weekend flooded my thoughts. A chuckle escaped me as I recalled some of them. “Insane, really… I mean... The Challenge was great, and everything. But this was serious, you know? Like… WEC is serious. People saw me there. Saw what I did, you know?” He nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “And this might sound super cocky, but… it was amazing.”

“Oh, you bet the world saw you. Your name rang in the paddock the whole day. And that interview you did with Anderson?”

“What about it?”

“I’m just jealous. I never looked that good on camera,” he teased, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. I laughed and followed the ping of the elevator, that now opened its doors to us. With his back turned to me, while he pressed one of the buttons, he questioned, “Am I one of those people?” Then, he turned back to me, a smug smile in his mouth. “The ones you mentioned. Do I inspire you?”

The corner of my lips lifted in a playful grin. “Do you really need to ask?" I watched as he shrugged, a nonchalant expression on his face. I rolled my eyes, “Well, you know… every time I see your face on TV, I think, ‘Wow, I have to learn something from that guy’.”

His laughter rang out, a sound that was as comforting as it was infectious. “That’s it? My handsome face is just a reminder to work harder?”

I matched his playful tone. “Well, either that or the fear of becoming the least interesting person on TV.” As he leaned against the wall, his body language inviting me closer, I complied without hesitation. I stepped into his space, still at a distance. ”I’ll let you pick whichever makes you feel better.”

He rolled his eyes before his gaze locked onto mine, a whole different haze around those orbs. The quiet hum of the elevator seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of us in our own world. His index finger hooked on the belt hoop of my pants, a subtle gesture that pulled me toward him. His voice, soft yet filled with longing, wrapped around me like a velvet ribbon.

“I miss you,” he confessed. “I was dying for a moment alone with you.”

“I’m all yours, now.”

His lopsided grin transformed into a mischievous smirk as he closed the distance between us. A pair of tender, delicate lips met mine, and I could feel the hint of his smile as I melted into his embrace, a contented sigh escaping my lips.

I lost myself in him, in the touch of his hands touching me everywhere, reclaiming my body and pressing me against him. The urgency grew. My fingers instinctively curled around the leather of his jacket, pulling him closer with a determined grip. His hands ventured to my lower back, drawing me nearer. We could have transcended into another dimension.

As the elevator doors finally opened on his floor, we reluctantly pulled away from each other, our lips lingering for a moment before breaking apart. The hunger in his gaze mirrored my own. With a silent understanding, we rushed through the hallway—stupid teenagers in a rom-com.

I felt the weight of the door click shut behind us as he pushed me against it, his lips already on my neck. Our perfumes mixed together, a scent already familiar, yet to which I had no resistance. I felt drunk on it. His hands left my waist to pull my top down and reveal my bare skin beneath. There was urgency in his touch, in his eyes, in the way he exhaled when he took a step back and took me in.

Under his eyes, goosebumps ran across my chest. Thingles shot up from my nipples.

Carlos ran his thumb over one of them, eyes studying the rose buds, his tongue peering between his lips. “No bra?” He teased, his eyes glinting.

“Though I might save us some time,” I whispered back.

“I like the way you think,” he replied with a low growl. The warmth of his breath touched my skin, making me shiver uncontrollably before his lips reached my breast.

To that, I would never get used. The velvet touch of his tongue, the particular way his lips seem to perfectly fit each crevice of my body. My hands came up to his hair, tangling myself in the silky locks as he suckled on my nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak. I gasped, my head falling backwards.

Electricity shot through my body, pooling between my legs.

“I want to do something for you, today," I said.

He cocked an eyebrow at me, his eyes darkening with desire. "What?" The husky timbre of his voice sent a chill down my spine, as he undid the belt of my pants. From then, to the moment they fell on the floor, was a couple of seconds.

I descended from my heels and guided him to bed, where he sat at the edge. Then sat down, gently, on his lap, my legs spreading naturally. Slightly hesitating, he reached out, and glided his palm over my back and my ass, before tracing a path down the back of my thighs. With a more urgent touch, his fingertips burning in curiosity and anticipation, he continued until his hand reached the back of my knees and with a strong motion, pulled me nearer to him. Fuck. I quivered in his lap, a broken moan escaping my lips.

He smiled. "You like that?"

I nodded, biting my lip as I felt the heat in his eyes. Tentatively, I placed my hands on his shoulders and moved again, shamelessly grinding against his jeans. Again, a low, husky moan left my mouth and his fingers dug into my ass. He was completely dressed and I was soaking through my panties.

Cupping my face in his hands, he brought his mouth back to mine. Fierce and wet. Possessive and savage. I moaned against his mouth as his hands came up to my breasts, kneading them as I rode him harder. His touch was overwhelming, and I could feel myself getting close to the edge.

"No. Wait. I—” My hand rested on his chest. “You’re making me lose focus."

My chin was locked between his fingers, as he held my face close.

"Hm?" He groaned against my mouth. "On what, baby?"

"On you," I said, between breaths, my voice almost breaking. I forced myself to stop moving, even when I felt every inch of my body under a spell. My clit was throbbing, crying for attention. "Your shirt," I commanded, and in seconds, it was flying to the floor.

The cool floor stimulated my heated skin, as I knelt in front of him. My eyes couldn't leave his face—the strands falling over his forehead, his slightly flushed cheeks, his swollen lips. I reached out, my fingers deftly working on his belt buckle, my every movement deliberate and tantalizing. Dark orbs stared at me from behind sleep-tousled eyes, desire taking them whole. Unzipping him, I let the jeans fall to his feet before touching him over his white Calvin Kleins. I could feel my mouth watering at the imprint of his erection on the fabric.

Looking up again, there was a grin on his lips.

His thumb gently traced the contour of my bottom lip, urging it to part. Without hesitation, I complied, welcoming his finger into my mouth. My lips closed around it, gently sucking as my hands explored him through the fabric of his boxers. His response was immediate; he bit his lower lip, a guttural groan escaping as I slid the elastic waistband down, releasing him into the open.

Carlos pulled himself up in bed, pulling off his boxers on his way. His eyes wandered briefly to a spot just beyond me, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Panties off, baby," he commanded. With ease, he positioned himself at the centre of the bed, his legs parted invitingly.

Glancing swiftly behind me, my eyes landed on a mirror. Without hesitation, I followed his command, sliding my panties down, ensuring my reflection in the mirror granted him the view he deserved. Then, I gracefully crawled towards him, positioning myself between his legs with my knees slightly apart, my ass elevated in the air.

His cock rested against my lips. I moved in, sucking gently, as I looked up. He didn’t know where to look: his eyes flickered from the mirror down to my face to the mirror again. I moved my tongue up and down his shaft and then he finally looked away from the mirror and at me.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice low and throaty. I blinked up at him, confused by his words. "So beautiful," he repeated. "The way you're looking at me, the way you're sucking me off. It's fucking beautiful."

I blushed, feeling shy and exposed under his gaze. I loved the way he looked at me, with such certainty and admiration. I loved that he saw me as something beautiful. Something worth saving. I parted my lips and slid my mouth around his shaft then pulled back, taking him as slowly as I could. He tilted his head and cried out, the vibration of his voice sending a shock of heat into my core.

I smiled up at him as I shifted, angling him so he was hitting the back of my throat.

"You like this?" He asked, a grin spreading across his face. I nodded, my head moving faster. "You're going to make me come in your mouth, aren't you?" I nodded again, my eyes locked onto his. His voice was low and commanding, his grip tight in my hair. I moaned around him, pleasure radiating through me as I felt him pulsating in my mouth.

My tights moved in the air, my pussy pulsating, crying for attention.

"Baby," he called. I looked up. "Touch yourself. But don't stop. You're doing so well."

I couldn't focus on anything else but what he was telling me to do. I reached down, feeling my wetness seep through my fingers. A moan slipped past my lips as I started stroking myself, faster and faster. My clit was throbbing, begging for attention. I glanced at Carlos, watching him struggle to keep control. He looked so strained, his body tense, his torso glistening with tiny droplets of sweat. He looked so fucking good.

"You're going to make me come, baby." He groaned, thrusting deeper into my mouth. I increased the speed of my movements, my head bobbing up and down on his shaft. I could feel him getting closer, the pulse in his cock growing faster and faster.

He came quickly, his cum filling my mouth and down my throat. I swallowed, my stomach muscles contracting as I drank down every last drop. He released my hair and lay in bed, his breathing erratic. "Come here."

"He—Where?"

"Here," he said like it was obvious. "Sit on my face."

For a second, I hesitated. But then he looked at me, his eyebrow pointing up, his tongue wandering between his lips and God, how, better, why would I say no? I complied, sinking down on top of him. His hands came up to my ass, spreading me open as he took my aching pussy into his mouth. And that was another thing I could never get used to. I gasped, my hands coming down to grip his hair, now tousled and sweaty. His tongue was wet and velvety as it flicked over my clit. I ground against him, my breathing becoming ragged.

"Come for me, baby," he murmured. He was a starved man. I was his precious meal. And how good it felt to me worshipped like that. "Come on my fucking tongue."

My body shook as I came hard, my pussy clenching tightly around his tongue. He kept going, licking and sucking until I was crying out in sheer ecstasy, my hands gripping the headrest, my knuckles turning white as the sensations overwhelmed me.

I lay sprawled on the bed, my legs still jerking, tingling with aftershocks of delight, my naked form glistening with a light sheen of sweat, utterly spent and exhilarated.

Carlos approached me, his nose touching mine, making me smile. “You were so good,” he whispered just before he pressed a slow, tender kiss against my lips. My mouth parted in anticipation of his, like always. My eyes drifted closed as I kissed him back.

“Happy birthday,” I said with drunken delight.

A small humm from him was the only response I got until I felt his hands pulling me to him, holding me close to his chest. A kiss on the forehead followed that, then another, this time on the top of my head.

His hands were warm where they trailed down my back.

And then I drifted to sleep.

There was a strange weight over my belly.

A warm stream of air against my skin, rhythmically kissing my ribs. The room was dark and warm, and my head hurt. A few morning sun rays seeped through the binds, wrapping the room in a warm yet slow yellow tint. I tried to move my leg, but it was wrapped in another body. And a smile emerged on my lips.

Slowly, I stretched my hand, the touch of his hair sending shivers down my spine. Heat flushed through me when my sleepy gaze fell on him. His back rose up in perfect curves, taut muscles rolling along his spine with every breath, like waves coming ashore. My tan glowed under his brown hair, which fell in soft strands against my chest. The curve of his torso disappeared at his waist, revealing a small hollow where he had curled up against me as if he belonged there—as if that moment was what life was all about.

Hearts beating so slowly.

A silence so full of a promise of peace and security in the uncertainty.

The previous days had been so full, so messy, so… scary.

And I was never a fan of sleeping like this, especially in the summer, but if it meant to wake up to that view, my mind could change.

I blinked awake, feeling disoriented and confused. Memories from last night swirled around in my head, jumbled and hazy, until my mind slowly pieced together what happened. A long dinner, a lot of wine. Messy kisses on the elevator, even messier in bed. Slowly, the memories coalesced into a coherent whole, and I realized that I was in Carlos' hotel room, our bodies naked and intertwined. I could feel the sheets beneath me, the weight of his body against me, the scent of sex and him, in an intoxicating mixture, pulling me back to sleep.

Silence stretched around.

The sound of his breath evened out, deep asleep.

It was hot, and the logical part of my mind urged me to get up, take a shower and remind Carlos of his commitments, but against reason, I resisted the urge. Instead, I lay there, gently tracing the short waves of his hair and basking in the sight of him peacefully sleeping on my chest.

And perhaps that is what life is all about, after all.

Our intimacy reverberated in the depths of that silence that didn’t need to be fulfilled. Felt right. The weight of his body shifted, relieving mine from the warmth and when my eyes met his, he was looking up at me, a soft lazy curve on his lips.

“You’re awake,” he murmured at some point, his voice barely audible.

“I am.”

Carlos leaned in, and our lips met in a slow, languid kiss. Each brush of our lips, a moment of pure vulnerability and adoration. The brush of his fingers on my cheeks, our legs intertwined, our bodies finding comfort against each other. Wafting through the atmosphere, the deep understanding that there was no better place we could be.

“You have to go get ready.”

Carlos hummed against my jawline, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my bare skin. "I set an alarm," he murmured, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. “Why you’re up so early? It’s like…” He stretched his arm to check the time on the nightstand. “6.30.”

“Time doesn’t make sense,” I hummed, a tired smile on my face. He chuckled softy. My fingers danced across his skin, the warmth and softness of it inviting my touch. They came to a rest at the nape of his neck, where delicate strands of hair brushed against my fingertips, silently urging me to thread them between my fingers. “And someone was crushing me.”

Carlos nuzzled closer, a playful smile gracing his lips. "I plead innocent. It's not my fault if you turned out to be irresistibly cuddly."

Feigning mock indignation, I swatted his arm gently. “Excuse me? Turned out? ”

His laughter bubbled forth, warm and rich, filling the room with its infectious energy. He then rolled to his side, and as my eyes fell on his barely disturbed pillow, I pondered whether we had drifted off like that or if he had moved during the night. Adjusting my position, I turned to face him.

“It’s quite nice to wake up like this, you know?” I admitted with a soft smile, my gaze locked onto his. Carlos’ chuckle danced in the air, playful and affectionate.

“Now… Excuse me! Actually nice? Were you doubting it?” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes that mirrored the lightness of our banter. “Have you seen me?”

“Oh, yes. I have.”

“So, why is it actually nice?”

“Because I thought it would be different. That I wouldn’t be so comfortable to be naked in bed with you. I mean, I saw you eat worms as a child—” A giggle left my lips. “And now I let those same lips kiss me.”

“Oh, baby, you let them do so much more. I can still taste you,” he said with a smirk, his hand travelling down to my ass and pushing me to him.

A soft laughter escaped my lips, a mixture of surprise and amusement. Carlos' playful response was exactly what I had come to expect from him. "Oh, now we're getting cheeky, are we?"

His smirk deepened, his fingers tracing a teasing pattern along the back of my thigh. My leg was now wrapped around his. "Well, you know me."

I shifted closer to him, my fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "You're incorrigible."

The air between us was light, infused with a sense of ease that came so naturally when we were together. It was moments like these that I cherished the most—the unfiltered exchanges, the unspoken understanding, the unbreakable connection. His fingers traced patterns in my skin, mine stood still in his chest, the beating of his heart under my digits—a language of touch and glances that we had grown accustomed to without even noticing. The warmth of his body against mine, the intimacy of our shared space—it all felt so right, so beautifully intimate.

Carlos propped himself up on his elbow, his gaze tender yet searching. "You know, for what it's worth,” he began.

“Yes?”

“Waking up next to you feels... right," he admitted, his tone softening, his gaze holding mine. And then, as a contemplative expression crossed his features, he shifted his gaze to the window. "You know, I never expected this,” his voice tinged with a mixture of wonder and vulnerability. "I never thought we would ever fall on the same page. Either because I thought I didn’t deserve to be seen this way by you or because… I don’t know. I was so afraid of fucking up and losing you…"

His words settled like a gentle wave, each syllable a touch on my soul. The rawness in his voice stirred something within me, a connection that seemed to reach beyond words. His touch was warm on my skin, his words so low and his voice so rough, the timbre a caress that sorted through the depths of my emotions. I laid back in bed, my hands resting over my belly, in the spot where he had been asleep moments before. It was still warm.

"I couldn’t stop thinking about losing you. Until I did. And then I couldn’t stop dreaming about having you back. And then I saw you in the garage, at Mugello, and… it all came back, you know?” His eyes dropped to my chest, and then to my eyes. “The fear of letting you go," he confessed softly, his gaze unwavering.

The vulnerability in his words was a mirror to my own heart, an echo of the fears and doubts that had once haunted both of us. It almost felt too much.

"But then… The second you allowed me to get close enough, to look at you and truly see you…” He stretched his fingers and let his hand find the skin of my chest. Over my stern, he let his index wander, from my neck to my hands. “To feel you… This is not about losing. Is it?”

“It is not,” I replied, a small smile curving my lips.

His hand wandered to my side, his thumb tracing a gentle path over my breast. I looked down, admiring the way my body reacted to him—eager shivers, a symphony of sensations awakening in its trail. With every touch, it felt like being discovered anew. Each time he touched me, it felt like being touched for the very first time all over again.

“You have no idea how much I understand that,” I murmured, lifting my head from the pillow, my lips seeking his. He met me halfway, his head tilting to close the distance between us.

So mellow and slow. Warm and comforting. And lazy. Our kisses unfolded in unhurried movements, a languid exploration of each other's emotions. Time seemed to stretch and bend, because in that space, within the circle of his arms, we could afford to be lazy. Outside, the world was put on hold.

Carlos moved to hover over me, his frame settling in between my legs, shielding me from the sunlight rays seeping through the curtains. It was all him. And the lines of his stupidly handsome body and face, enhanced by the light hitting his back.

“I have a question,” I said, looking up at him.

The corner of his lips tugged up in a smirk, as he lowered himself to kiss my chin. “Not now, baby.”

“Yes, now, baby.”

He looked up. The lines of his face were disguised in the dark room. “I really would like to start this day inside you.” He ran his hand on my side, stopping at the back of my leg and guiding it around his waist. “Can we do that?”

“But that won’t answer my question.”

“That will make me very very very happy.” He kissed my chin, again. And then my cheek, my jaw, just below my ear. I exhaled, a stupid smile on my lips. Yeah, I had no chance against his tactics. My fingers moved on his biceps, tautening under my touch as he pressed his waist against me. “Can you feel how happy you make me?” he asked, his voice low and velvet smooth.

"Hmhm," I acknowledged. And he did it again, eyes locked on mine. A small moan escaped between my pressed lips and he chuckled, amused.

I shut my eyes as he moved his hips again, this time sliding against my slick folds. So close, yet so agonizing far. I could feel my own desire and the knowledge of it made my blood boil in my veins. I wanted him more than anything, and my body needed him just the same.

"Carlos," I begged, arching my back as he teased me mercilessly. "Please."

He chuckled softly, pushing himself up a little so that his lips could find mine. "Please what?" he asked, his voice a soft tease.

Make love to me. The words erupted from a very hidden corner of my mind, still lost in sleep and trapped in the fabric of dreams.

"Please," I repeated, this time a little louder. "I need you."

"I can see that," he replied, his voice low and serious. I opened my eyes to find him looking down, guiding his cock with one hand and using the other to move some strands of hair away from his face. "How are you so wet already, baby?"

How couldn’t I be?

I couldn't answer. All I could do was whimper as he teased me again, his tip sliding all the way through my slit, poking the entrance.

"You like being teased, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and sinful. "You like it so much that it’s a shame I can’t spend the whole day making you go crazy with it."

"Yes," I gasped, arching my back to get closer to him. He circled the entrance and I pressed my feet to the mattress, my head going back to the pillow as my body ached for him. "Please, Carlos."

"Okay, baby. I'm here," he said lowly, his voice a throaty whisper. He kissed me again, slowly but deeply. His tongue brushed against mine, my lips trapped between his teeth. "I'll make love to you."

The words were like a balm to my achy heart, a balm that soothed and healed. Carlos eased himself in slowly, a slow, torturous movement that made my entire body cry for him. And then out. Even more slowly. My hands moved to his shoulders, and then to his hair, urging him back. And when he was finally inside me again, I let out a long, trembling breath.

The slick, wet heat of us was heaven. His movements were slow and deliberate, a delicious torture that made me writhe uncontrollably beneath him.

"Austria," he breathed, his head hovering above mine as he moved his hips against me, burying himself deeper inside. I opened my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. "That's what made me go to Mugello."

A moan escaped my lips as he pushed even further, my back arching in response to the pleasure coursing through me. His eyes, filled with a burning desire, remained locked onto mine. "How? Why?" I managed to ask, my voice trembling with need.

"The fire," he confessed, his movements deliberate and sensual. His fingers slid through mine, our hands intertwining as he raised them above my head and thrust into me once more, the sensation more intense than before. "I didn't think about dying or getting hurt. All I could think about was you.” He moaned lowly, a fucking melody in my ears. “Your voice in my head."

I furrowed my brow, his words slowly registering in my desire-clouded mind. Sensations of pleasure and love pulsed through me as he continued to move, his gaze never leaving mine. He was taking his time, savouring every moment of our connection.

“Me?”

His grip on my fingers got stronger. “You.”

And then, in my cloudy mind, in the midst of all things I was feeling and desiring, the endless goodbyes we exchanged. His cologne mixed with rubber and oil, the sound of engines and rattle guns. The hugs at the airport, at home, before leaving and after arriving.

"Go race but don't die in there," I whispered, the words escaping my lips like a fervent prayer. He cracked a small, affectionate smile.

"Exactly that," he murmured against my lips. "And then, for a fraction of a second, I thought of dying. And how I wouldn't see you ever again."

I swallowed hard, the ache in my chest intensifying. My feelings seemed bigger than myself.

"I want to be with you."

Carlos's face softened at my words. "I want that, too, baby," he whispered, his voice full of love and tenderness, his chest pressing against mine as he caught my lips in a slow kiss, burying himself inside me once more.

And then he was moving faster, harder, and I was lost, lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over me and the idea of how I had found home. I was falling. No safety net, yet the wind in my face was greater than any safety I had ever known.

Minutes after climax, both of us still lost in post-sex bliss and in each other, Carlos’ alarm rang on the nightstand. The room was now more brightly lit, but our bodies were still languid and sated, lost in the cocoon of our intimate connection. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the strident symphony of the alarm.

"Think I've got time for a quick nap?" I inquired with a playful raise of my eyebrow.

Carlos let out a soft chuckle as he silenced the alarm. "You can sleep while I hit the shower," he suggested, his voice still husky. "And then you'll need to get up and start getting ready, or else we’ll be late."

Feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping in, I sighed deeply while sitting up in bed. I looked around. Last night was still a confusing puzzle in my mind. And then, it all came to clarity. "Fuck!" I exclaimed, suddenly realizing, "Rio has my key card."

"Why—How did that happen?"

"What do you mean, 'how'? He did the check-in, and I just dropped my bags here at the hotel and ran to the restaurant. I—Fuck. This is on you," I threw him a pillow.

Despite my efforts, he caught it quite easily. “How is this my fault?”

“You… seduced me in the elevator,” he laughed at my words, taking a hand to his belly.

Getting up, he threw me the pillow and walked to the closet, taking a robe out of there. To be honest, half my worries disappeared while he walked naked through the room, the view being distraction enough.

"Well,” he passed me the robe. “Rio's room is just across the hall. You can pop over there, grab the key card, and sort your stuff out. I can even go for you, if you want."

My anxiety spiked at the thought of such a direct confrontation. "You want me to just knock on my brother's door and say, 'Hi, I just spent the night with your best friend. Nice night overall, but now I need my stuff to get ready.’?"

Carlos pondered the situation for a moment before responding. “Yes.”

With a sigh and a reluctant nod, I accepted the robe. I wrapped it around me, the rush of nerves tugging around at the same time. Talking to my brother about last night wasn't something I was eager to do. If there was something good about having him moving soon out of the house, was the fact that never, in my whole life, had he encountered a guy leaving my room. But there was no avoiding it now, was it?

"Alright," I muttered, summoning my resolve. "I'll go get the key card and then I’ll get ready. We meet at breakfast. But if this turns into an awkward family moment, I'm blaming you."

Carlos chuckled, his voice a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. "I'll take full responsibility.” He picked up the second robe and dressed it. “It's not the end of the world, Eva. He’s done worse."

I gave him a wry smile, appreciating his attempt to ease my tension. "Easy for you to say," I quipped, heading towards the door.

I mustered up the courage to walk across the hall and knock on Rio's door. Barefoot and with my hair tied in a terrible bun. It didn't take long before my brother answered, and the smirk on his face was undeniable.

"Eva, my dear sister," he said, his tone teasing. "Can’t say I wasn’t waiting for you."

"Cut it out, Fabrizio,” I moved in my feet. “Can I just get my key card?”

He feigned innocence. "Key card?”

“Come on, I need to go get ready.”

He raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "Oh, I'm sure you do.”

“Rio, I swear to God—” he interrupted me with a laugh while taking a step back and opening the door. My bags rested against his closet. I frowned. “How? Why?”

Rio's laughter rang through the room as I walked in to retrieve my bags. He leaned against the door frame, still chuckling. "Well, sis," he began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I figured, why waste the money on a separate room for you when I knew you'd end up there anyway? Plus, it's been ages since I had a chance to tease you properly."

I shook my head in disbelief, simultaneously amused and annoyed by his antics. "I should've known you'd pull something like this."

He gave me an unapologetic grin. "What can I say? It's in my big brother's job description to embarrass you whenever possible.”

I rolled my eyes, but a fond smile tugged at the corners of my lips. "Alright, alright," I relented, grabbing my suitcase, purse and Carlos’ gift. "I'll see you at breakfast. And for the record, Carlos is a way better roommate than you."

Rio laughed heartily, waving me off as I headed back to Carlos' room. As I closed the door behind me, I couldn't help but shake my head at my brother's antics. On the other side of the hall, the door was closed. I knocked, hoping Carlos hadn’t yet stepped into the shower.

When he opened the door, his face broke into a grin, which quickly escalated into hearty laughter. “Guess it’s a sleepover, now,” I said.

He shrugged. “Good thing we get along well.”

I'll review the chapter again in a day or two, so I'm sorry if there are a few typos, but I just finished it. Happy birthday, Carlito. Hope Monza is good for him, this weekend. post weekend edit: MONZA WAS GOOD FOR HIM, IM CRYING HAPPY TEARS taglist: @alesainz @juliantheupsidedown @dreamsarebig (i forgot to tag people when i posted the chapter because i was just so nervous about posting this (we love anxiety) so sorry, but ill try to not forget next time) thank you all for the messages and the replies and especially the reblogs! i love you all SO much. thank you so much for the support. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. See you around. All the love, Bru 🤍

#Tightrope #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #fanf1ction #f1 fanfic #driver x you #f1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader #driver x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz angst

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thewaywardbirdsnest · 2 years ago

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Long Distance

Zoro could fall asleep anywhere. On the floor, in the car, on a couch in the middle of a crowded party - anywhere, anytime.

So why, then, was he still awake at this late hour, tossing and turning? It was like an itch under his skin that he just couldn’t seem to rid himself of. He had tried adjusting the thermostat, turning over the pillows, removing the duvet and then putting it back on, five different sleeping positions, a white noise app. Nothing was helping. The bed felt too big, he had concluded, which was weird because there wasn’t anything special about the mattress in his London hotel room. Just your run-of-the-mill queen-sized hotel bed, perfectly suitable for someone of Zoro’s size. Yet somehow he still felt like it was too… wait a minute…

“Fuck!” Zoro cursed, flopping onto his back and letting his head bounce off the plush pillow. He let out a long, anguished sigh. “Shit…”

He reached over to flip on the bedside lamp and grab his laptop. A few clicks, a couple rings, and then…

“Hey you! Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight. It’s gotta be… what, one in the morning where you are? Everything okay?”

Zoro felt something in his chest unknot just seeing the curly-browed bastard on his screen. He could have said something sweet, something like “I missed you”, but what came out was: “You’ve ruined me.”

Sanji frowned, the toothpick he was using to keep his oral fixation in check drooping.

“Pardon?” he asked, giving Zoro a chance to redeem himself.

“I can’t sleep,” Zoro tried again, “because the bed’s too big because you’re not in it with me.”

Sanji’s features immediately softened, his mouth pulled into a sad little half-smile. “I miss you too, baby.”

“Tch…” Zoro looked away, hoping the dim lighting of the room wouldn’t catch the blush he could feel creeping into his cheeks. How could he just say things like that? Zoro still wasn’t used to it. Might never get used to it. But he had to admit (to himself, if no one else) that it felt nice to hear.

“So,” Sanji prompted him, “what can I do to help?”

Zoro sighed heavily and shifted the laptop onto the bed so he could lay down on his side. “I dunno…”

“Hmm…” Sanji hummed thoughtfully as he got up off the couch. “Well, tell you what, I was about to make some dinner. How ‘bout I set my phone up on the counter so we can hang out until you get sleepy?”

“‘Kay,” Zoro agreed, adjusting his pillow.

“Alright, gimme a second.”

Once he had set up the phone at an angle where Zoro could watch him without it being in his way, Sanji got to work. Zoro asked him to talk about what he was making and he was happy for an excuse to ramble about the dish in detail. At first, Zoro prompted him with little questioning noises now and then, but it wasn’t long before his eyelids began to feel heavy.

They lapsed into comfortable silence filled by the sounds of sizzling onions, knives on cutting boards and Sanji humming some tune Zoro vaguely recognized from one of the jazz records Sanji would occasionally throw on while cooking. It felt cozy and familiar, a little piece of home even while he was an ocean away from his partner.

Before he knew it, Zoro was drifting off to sleep. On the edges of his consciousness, he just barely heard an affectionate chuckle and the words “g’night, marimo” before he finally slipped into a deep sleep.

When he woke to his alarm clock the next morning, he was surprised to see the video chat was still open on his laptop.

Sanji was curled up on his side in bed, fast asleep. Zoro ran a finger over the screen, tracing the curve of Sanji’s cheek. “G’night, curly,” he whispered before closing his laptop and getting up to start his day.

Just two more sleeps. Two more sleeps and he’d be home with him…

#sanji cooking #Domestic ZoSan Moments #zosan #sanzo #established zosan #modern au #drabble #fluff #asmr #inspired by HelloHarubo's on Twitter #bird's twitter threadfic archive

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

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8 Letters

OR: 4 times he couldn’t say he loved you + 1 time he did

Ok, here we are with the very over hyped Vince fic! This was inspired by 8 Letters by Why Don’t We and has been swimming around in my head for a while before I realize it fits with this himbo.

Shoutouts to the following (and hopefully this is short because this is not an awards show even though it would be fun to pretend it is): @vincecdunn because Nikki’s the reason I’m on the Vince train so as retaliation I’m just going to keep sending her ideas for more fics to write, @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys and @broadstbroskis for allowing me to come into your inboxes and be annoying and bounce ideas off of, and then @pettypetey and @pumpkinpatchmakar for the ways to say I love you and I’m 100% forgetting people but that’s just because I suck

Other people who wanted to be tagged: @all-time-fanatic @marialovesdean @oyeinpayne @ghstandpucks @maybehockeymaybenot @itzelmunoz and @thecasualyogi (unsure why it isn’t letting me tag you sad boi)

So, here we go, all 7.8k words of this 4+1

______________________

Tonight was one of the first nights in a while that the two of you were able to spend together, Vince on the road on and off for what felt like longer than usual and you just drowning at work. Any chance you got to be together at this point was almost always spent alone in the comforts of your place or his. You were spending it at your place, watching him stand at the stove as he cooked dinner for the two of you.

“God, who you have thought someone could look so sexy stirring pasta,” you admire him, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him.

He laughs, putting the large spoon on the counter, turning around to face him. Vince approaches you, pulling you close to him. His hand finds the small of back, the other tilting your chin up to him. He bites his lip, looking down at you. “You think that’s sexy, just wait,” he says, his lips planted against yours before you can say anything else.

You pull away at the sound of splashing water, seeing the pot boiling over. “Ah, fuck,” Vince releases his grip and runs to turn the burner down, you laughing as he goes back to stirring the boiling bubbles away.

“You know what’s great about this?” you say, sarcasm dripping in your voice.

“Oh no,” he mutters, bringing the pot over to the sink to drain the excess water, knowing that whatever you’re going to say isn’t going to be great for him.

“You get to clean up.”

He puts the now empty pot back on the stove, shaking the remaining water off the pasta in the strainer, “But I made the dinner!”

“Yeah, and then you made the mess.”

He turns to you, a mischievous look on his face. “You’re evil,” he says, lunging at you, lifting you off the ground and sending you into a fit of giggles as you try to wriggle your way free of his grasp.

“Vince!” you squeal, your arms overlapping his. “Put me down!”

“I like holding you, though,” he whines, putting you down without letting you go.

You turn around to face him, putting your hand on his face, tracing a random pattern on his cheek with your thumb. “Hold me on the ground and after you put the pesto on the pasta,” you tell him, giving him a quick kiss before pushing him away. “I thought you didn’t like pesto?”

He shrugs, putting pasta into the bowls you hand him. “I’m not crazy about it, but it’s your favorite, so I’ll put up with it for you.”

You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks over something so simple. “You’re nice,” you tell him, in a sing-songy voice, taking a bite of the pasta.

“Only to you,” he says, sending you a wink that makes your insides flutter.

Properly full from the simple dinner, after you clean the dishes and Vince cleans the stove, you retreat to your bedroom where you planned on spending the rest of the night. “What do you want to watch tonight?” Vince asks you, settling onto your bed with your TV remote in hand.

He reaches his arm out, gesturing for you to come snuggle up next to him, perfectly fitting against him as he kisses the top of your head, the warmth from his body comforting you more than the blankets that covered your bed probably ever would. “Gossip Girl,” you insist, knowing what his reaction would be.

Vince groans, throwing his head back. “Come on, that show is so bad.”

You look up at him, imitating the puppy dog eyes and signature pout he would give you all too often when he was asking you to do something. “Yes. But that’s what makes it so good to watch,” you plead.

He rolls his eyes, giving in and pulling it up on your Netflix. “Now how could I say no to that face,” he tells you.

“You can’t,” you tell him as he pulls up the show.

Letting out a small, “Yay,” you earn a giggle from his lips before kissing him quickly and settling into the show. You start with the first episode of the second season, Vince stroking your arm absentmindedly, laughing at how cheesy the show is. He steals the occasional glance at you, loving how closely you could pay attention to anything in front of you, analyzing, critiquing, admiring what was before you. You did it with anything and everything that you fixated on, something Vince could never do and something he loved about you.

Not that you’ve said you love each other yet. But, you were the only thing he could focus on outside of hockey at any moment.

“The true reason I should stay right where I am and not get in the car,” the two of you watch Blair Waldorf on your screen in her scene with Chuck Bass. “Three words. Eight letters. Say it, and I’m yours.”

The screen cuts to Chuck, his hesitation. “I-I...”

“Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear,” with Blair getting in the car, leaving Chuck standing there watching the girl he knew he loved drive off with his heart.

That part always made you cry, letting out a soft sob at the sight of the character you hated the most, actually experiencing heartbreak, slightly humanizing the demon that you thought he was. Vince, paying more attention to you than the show, had no clue what was happening.

“This is a dumb question,” he starts, watching you wipe the tears that had fallen down your face, “But what are the three words?”

You sit up, your hand placed on his thigh sending a chill through his body. “I love you.”

His eyes go wide, swallowing hard. Given what just happened in the episode, he knew it was ridiculous to think, but he couldn’t help but wonder if what just happened on your screen would happen right now. “Are... are those the words or are you telling me?” he asks, his voice shaking.

You hesitate for a moment. You had been together for five months already. He was the person you trusted the most, no matter how dumb he might be sometimes. You would do anything for him, and you were sure that he would do anything for you. You thought about him constantly, but you had never been in love before. Whatever you felt for Vince was something you hadn’t felt for anyone. “Both,” you decide, seeing the panic wash over his face. “You don’t have to say it back. I’m not gonna leave you if you don’t,” you reassure him.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying to muster up the courage to actually say what he wanted to. He knows how he feels about you, but, “I can’t say it.” You knew the pain you felt at hearing those words flashed over your face for a moment because of the quick, “I’m sorry,” he let out before getting up off your bed and heading for the door.

“Vince, hey, wait,” you say, chasing after him and beating him to your door. With your back against it, you look at your boyfriend, panicked, breathing fast, hands shaking. “Vince,” you say his name again, hearing it coming from you calming him down, “You don’t have to say it. I promise. Just please, don’t leave.”

He studies your face, the pain that he just caused you still showing. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, dropping his head.

“Hey,” you say, tilting his head up to look at you. “Listen to me when I say this: it’s fine. I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it just because I did. I told you that because I do love you. If you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine. I can’t force you to love me,” you tell him, smiling through it. He had to know it was a fake smile, just using it to hide how you really felt. “You still want to be with me, right?”

He hesitated for longer than he should have, even though his answer popped into this head immediately. “What? Of course I do. Can we just,” he takes a deep breath, trying to find his words, “Do you think we can watch something else?”

You nod, taking his hand and leading you back to your bed. You just fucked everything up, didn’t you? But Vince’s panic and now lack of attention to even the Netflix catalogue he was scrolling through was more worrisome than him not saying he loves you. “Actually,” you say, gently taking the remote from his hands, “Do you think we can talk about this? Like, I’m ok with it, but, I don’t know, you’re kind of worrying me.”

He can’t look at you, staring at the TV instead as the now muted screen flashed with characters he didn’t recognize. “I don’t know,” he lies. “The girls I was with before I met you kinda fucked me up I guess.” You could feel your heart breaking watching him like this, more so than when you watched Chuck and Blair. “I thought I was in love with them, but then it always ended with them using me for my money, because I play in the NHL, for sex. I mean, my purity score thing is so low for a reason, right?” he jokes, you trying to smile even though you could feel yourself wanting to cry. “Fuck, one of them even called Sammy because she liked him more while I was asleep in the bed next to her and asked him to go pick her up.”

You take his face in your hands, pulling him in for a kiss. Using the pads of your thumbs, you wipe away the tears that you got on him, unsure if they were just yours or if he had started crying, too. “I will never do that to you,” you assure him. “I’ll even call Sammy and tell him that you’re better.”

He laughs, sniffling a little bit. “Can you do that every day? Really wear down his self esteem.”

You laugh, giving him a quick kiss, happy that he was at least smiling again. “I’m not going to emotionally destroy a man.”

“But it’s Sammy!”

You, Nikki, and Patricia were sitting on Nikki’s couch together, each with one glass of wine for the night because of the need to drive later, pizza, popcorn, and much more junk food than you would like to admit. Dressed as if you hadn’t seen daylight in years, you all had on sweatpants, sweatshirts, hair tied back, makeup free, everything that would signal to an outsider that you had all stopped caring, but to you, it was just a night in after work. It was a much needed girls night, the stress of work getting to all of you while you sat there with your best friends trying to find something to watch. With the boys off on a road trip, you could definitely use the company. Part of you was bothered by Vince not saying he loves you, but could you really justifiably get upset but that?

“What are we watching?” Nikki asks, pulling up Netflix, practically forcing you to relive the conversation with Vince from the other night.

“Uh, Gilmore Girls?” Patricia suggests.

Without saying a word, Nikki plays the episode she left off on, Rory and Dean celebrating their anniversary together by going out to what was supposed to be a nice, sweet night.

“What do you think Connecticut is like?” Patricia asks about the setting of the iconic show.

“My ex in college was from Connecticut. Nothing good comes from Connecticut,” comes from Nikki, you barely hearing her as you fixate on the episode.

“Gilmore Girls comes from Connecticut.”

Without missing a beat, Nikki says, “One good thing comes from Connecticut.” The two of them keep talking, you barely hearing anything they say as you watch Dean and Rory in the car that Dean had built for her, telling her he loves her for the first time. Rory doesn’t say it back, the same expression on her face that you say on Vince’s that night. “Hey, Y/N, what’s up?” Nikki asks, snapping you away from the show.

“Oh, nothing, why?” you lie through your teeth, your best friends exchanging concerned looks.

“You know that you’re crying, right?” Patricia asks, snagging the remote and pausing the episode.

You reach up, feeling your now damp cheeks, wiping away the tears you didn’t even know were there that were brimming in your eyes. “Oh, wow,” you let out, laughing a little bit. “I guess the episode just got to me,” you lie again. Nikki sits there, eyebrow raised, lips pursed as if to say ‘bitch, please,’ while Patricia just sat there, waiting for you to answer. “I told Vince I love him,” you start.

You get cut off by the two of them screaming, “Oh my god!” and “What did he say?”

“He,” you sigh, debating on telling them the truth or not. “He panicked and couldn’t say it.”

Both of them gasp, you trying to figure out what emotions they felt; anger, sadness, disappointment, you swear all of it flashed on their face.

“Dump his ass!” Nikki yells, loud enough that her neighbors could probably hear her.

You take a handful of popcorn, throwing it at her in response, Patricia laughing and dodging the mess the two of you were creating as kernels flew past her face. “I’m not dumping him! He said he’s afraid of getting hurt,” you tell them once you stop throwing the food at each other.

“Does he think you’re going to hurt him?” Patricia asks, concern washing over her face.

“If he thinks that, you dump him,” Nikki pips in.

“You cut that out,” you fire back, pointing your finger at her. The ridiculousness of the simple action made all of you laugh, forgetting for a moment the conversation at hand.

“Do you really love him?” Patricia asks another question, both her and Nikki with the same expression on their faces.

You feel a soft smile growing on your face, nodding. “I really do. I’ve never loved anyone like I love him. Can we just talk about something else, please?”

They go back to talking about Connecticut, you trying to keep up with their banter.

“Wait, so why did you date that Connecticut boy?” you finally join the conversation, asking Nikki.

She shrugs, shoving the popcorn that was still in the bowl into her mouth. “Connecticut boys have money. I figured I could get some nice shit from him.”

“So you're a gold digger?” you tease her, Patricia nearly spitting out her wine.

Nikki sits there, mouth open pretending to be offended. “Talk about being a gold digger, you’re dating a professional athlete!”

You mirror her look, Patricia laughing as the innocent bystander in this. “Fuck,” is you can muster out before the three of you are laughing together.

“How could he not love that!” Nikki says once you catch your breath, pointing to the smile on your face and immediately making you turn red.

“Are you flirting with her?” Patricia asks

“Someone has too,” she shrugs, winking at you while sipping her wine.

You sit there, in awe of her bluntness. “If Vince were here he would get mad at you.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Patricia asks, changing the subject before Nikki can flirt with you more or make other snarky comments about your boyfriend.

“You see,” you start, setting down your glass of wine, “Vince told me they were going to California but when I checked the schedule it said they were going to play the Florida Panthers tomorrow,” you explain, all of you unable to contain your laughter, “so I think he’s confused.”

The three of you fall back into a rhythm that doesn’t involve talking about your boyfriend who was just about off your mind. After a few hours, you’re all yawning, the single glass of wine having no effect on you as you drowned out the alcohol with more water than anything so you could drive, Nikki kicking you out so she can go to sleep.

While you and Patricia are walking to your cars, your phone starts buzzing, an incoming Facetime call from Vince. You answer, immediately turning the camera away from you, “Hey, babe, I’m walking to my car.”

“And you’re not showing me yourself because you don’t want me to see the guy walking you there?” he jokes, smirking at the camera. He was in the bed in his hotel room, the white sheets pulled up just low enough that his chest was exposed, shirtless as he always was when he was ready to sleep. He knew what he was doing; showing just enough of himself that it would drive you crazy enough to be distracted.

“Yeah, this is the man,” you tease, panning over to Patricia getting into your car, “Say hi to Vince!”

“I’m stealing your girl!” she yells, ducking into her car and shutting her door, Vince’s laugh echoing in the air.

You prop your phone up in the thing your mom got you, suctioned to your dash so you can still see your phone while driving, even though you told her you had Apple CarPlay and had no need for it. Driving down the street, you fall into a mundane conversation with Vince about getting to Florida, teasing him for confusing it with California, telling him about the girls night you just had.

“Come on, show me your face!” you hear him whine. Without taking your eyes off the road, you know exactly the look on his face: those green eyes of his wide like a puppy, his bottom lip jutted out and if he weren’t holding his phone, his hands would be intertwined in themselves under his chin to show you he was begging.

“No, I look gross. My hair is tied back, I have no makeup on, and I’m in a groutfit.”

“Have you ever seen me?”

You roll your eyes, hitting the button to flip the camera now that you were at a red light. “Yes, I’ve seen you. You’re hot,” you say without shame.

“Fuck,” you hear him let out a long and low whisper. You roll your eyes at him, even though you can’t help but blush and smile at the way he was practically visibly drooling over you. “I didn’t know gross could be so beautiful.”

“I look like a Founding Father, shut up,” you say, glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the heat rushing to your cheeks.

He laughs again, making you smile even wider at the sound. “Who would have thought I would like sleeping with a Founding Father.”

“That is necrophilia!” you scream, loud enough that you could probably be heard outside your car, drowning out the sound of his laugher. “I never want to hear you say anything like that ever again!”

You pull up to your building, getting out and walking to your place while Vince rambles on about something that Sammy had done on the plane. “Oh!” he says once you unlock your door, startling you and almost dropping your phone, “Look what I got you!”

“You got me something?” you ask him, walking through your dark apartment into your room.

“I saw and I liked it and thought you would like it so I had to get it!” he says like a giddy child. He holds up a small stuffed puppy, shoving it almost too close to the camera, “Can you see the tag on his collar?”

He pulls it away slightly, the letter on it becoming clear. “His name is Vince!” you exclaim, the biggest smile on his face as he holds it next to him.

“Because you say when I get excited I remind you of a little puppy.” He sits there with the small stuffed animal pressed to his face, beaming at his purchase that he couldn’t wait to give you, even though he ruined the surprise he had anticipated because he couldn’t wait until he got home to see you. You take a screenshot, unable to hide how adorable you found him in that moment.

“I love it, Vince. I can’t wait for you to get home,” you say to him, a big yawn coming from him. His eyes get droopy, the way he gets before he’s about to fall asleep, a lazy smile on his face that means he felt the same.

You settle onto your bed, turning on your tv to watch whatever was on. You sit there in silence holding your phone, yawning a few times yourself. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna go to sleep,” you say, leaning over to turn off your lights, “I love you,” you say, forgetting that you're upset over his inability to say it back, seeing that he was already asleep, anyway, unable to return with a response.

III

You were swamped with work, having to hustle on a Saturday to get everything done. Vince was tired of being cooped up inside, only really going out when he had practice or a game, so he was the one to suggest going to the coffee shop half way between your apartments in order to just be somewhere that wasn’t the four walls of your apartments.

“You’re not working,” he says in a teasing voice, watching you sit there staring out the window at the people passing by.

“I just,” you sigh, “I don’t want to do this project.”

“Can I help?” he asks, getting up from his seat and standing behind you, just enough room between your chair and the wall for him to fit and lean against you. “You’re on Facebook.”

You look up at him, an innocent look on your face. “I’m using a rewards system!” you defend yourself. “I was working for half an hour, so I’m watching a video as a break.” You scroll back to the video you were just watching as he rests his hands on your shoulders, rubbing the slightly. You find the video of an artist with a bunch of metal strips, twisting them into a metal tree art piece. You turn to him, eyes wide with excitement, a huge smile on your face that he can’t help but roll his eyes at, mirroring your smile. “Isn’t it cool?”

“You’re acting like a child. That’s my job,” he says, kissing your cheek before going back to sit down.

“That just means you’ve rubbed off on me. Or maybe I’ve rubbed off on you?” you wonder, scrolling to find one more video to watch. The next video is scene from That 70’s Show, and old favorite of yours that you haven’t seen since it was taken off Netflix. Eric and Donna were in a car, probably the Vista Cruiser in one of the earlier seasons judging by how young they look. The captions on, your sound off, you read the scene instead of watching. It was Donna telling Eric she loved him, only for him to panic and respond with, “I love cake.” The smile on your face disappears, looking up at Vince and thankful that he was paying more attention to his phone than he was to you.

You just wanted him to say he loved you. You were sure that he did, and you had told him that you did. But he couldn’t say it. You were constantly going back and forth between being ok with it and being upset by it, knowing that it wasn’t fair to force him to say something if he didn’t mean it, but also knowing that it wasn’t fair to you to spill your guts to him for him to remain closed off.

You take a deep breath, switching back to the tab that had the new marketing pitch you were working on. You get to typing, focusing on the project while you see four other cursors working on different parts, occasionally switching to another section to check one of your partners' work while they do the same for you. You barely notice the people around you, the coffee shop practically packed to capacity as an afternoon rush came in. Vince would look up from his phone, stealing the occasional glance while you take no notice.

You both jump at the sound of someone knocking on the window next to you. Look up, Vince knew who it was immediately, irritated by your “Oh my god!” sqeual as you practically leap from the table to run outside.

Vince watches as you jump into the guys arms, a huge smile on your face, unable to read your lips as you talk with him. The guy was more attractive than Vince had remembered. Fuck, he looked like a model, and there Vince was, a hockey player, mad about it.

“How have you been?” you ask your friend Jack, someone you hadn’t seen in years.

“Pretty good,” he tells you, his arms lingering on your waist once you pull away from the hug you practically forced on him in the first place. “You?”

“Good, busy. Getting out with my boyfriend instead of acting like an old agoraphobic couple,” you tell him motioning to Vince sitting at the table, arms crossed over his chest. You both wave to him, Vince mirroring with a wave and a very unenthusiastic look. “Who’s apparently tired from practice,” you lie, hoping he would buy the explanation for Vince’s unexpected attitude.

“Isn’t he a hockey player?” You look back at Vince who’s now looking down at his phone, nodding, a soft smile on your face as you just stare at your dumb boyfriend. “You really have a thing for athletes, huh?”

You roll your eyes, knowing what he was referencing: Jack was technically your ex, having hooked up a few times, gone out on a few dates, he even brought you to a family wedding of his because you were seeing each other when the invitations went out, breaking up not long after the event. You never called him your boyfriend, and as far as you were concerned, you weren’t his girlfriend, but still, you weren’t just friends. “Hockey players are a little better than baseball players, bub,” you tell him, knowing it would hurt his ego a little bit.

He scrunches his face, pretending to be hurt but laughing anyway. “You always know how to hit a guy where it hurts, Y/L/N,” he tells you, both of you nodding. You were about to tell him goodbye, missing your chance when he says, “Do you think I could meet your new guy?”

You feel your breath stop for a moment, your eyes going wide at the thought of your ‘ex’ meeting your boyfriend. “Uh, sure, if you want to?” you tell him, obviously unsure of the situation that was about to unfold. “Vince?” you snap his attention away from his phone, the two of you standing over him. “This is my friend Jack. We went to school together,” you say, Jack extending his hand for Vince to shake.

Vince swallows hard, a wave of jealousy washing over him as this guy stands in front of him. “Nice to meet you,” he says, a cold tone in his voice. You shoot him a look, Jack taking your seat while Vince pulls you into his lap without you expecting it, planting a firm kiss on your lips. “So, Jack, what do you do?” he asks the guy sitting across from you, holding you tight around your waist as if he were marking his territory.

You look at your boyfriend, confused by why he was acting like this. He sends you a soft smile, his eyes flickering down to your lips, making you melt a little as you turn your attention back to Jack. “I work in marketing.”

“Oh, just like, my girl here.”

‘My girl?’ you mouth to yourself, unsure if either of the boys saw you.

“That’s how we met,” Jack starts, a little confused as well by Vince’s actions. “We were both marketing majors so we had all of the same classes.”

Vince keeps on asking Jack questions, practically leaving you out of the conversation, occasionally kissing your cheek while Jack was talking.

“Wow, you two are clearly in love with each other,” Jack points out, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Vince freezes, his heart racing against your chest as Jack gets up. “I’ve actually got to get going, but it was great seeing you, Y/N. We should catch up again.”

You nod, agreeing with him as he leaves, taking your seat back across from Vince, glaring at him. “What the hell was that?”

“What? I can’t kiss your cheek occasionally?” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair. You watch as he stares out the window, Jack still in his view.

“You never do it like that,” you point out. Then it dawns on you: “You were jealous! Why were you jealous?”

“I was not,” he pouts, his arms crossed.

“You’re so cute when you’re jealous!” you squeal, careful not to be too loud in the quiet environment. His face turns red, his lips pursed as he stares out the window, clearly ready to deny it. You reach over to poke his cheeks, just to agitate him.

He swats you away, hating that you were right. “You think I’m cute?”

“Why were you jealous?” you ask again.

“You think I’m cute?” he says, leaning on the table.

You smirk at him, imitating his body language. “We both know I’m going to win this so you should just answer me now,” you say slowly.

“He’s the guy you dated in college,” Vince says.

“I never showed you his picture.”

He hesitates for a moment, knowing the exact reaction this was going to illicit: “I saw the pictures you posted with him on Instagram.”

You stop and think for a moment. The last time you even saw Jack was a few years ago. “Those pictures were from my freshman year of college. You’ve scrolled that far back on my page?”

He sticks out his bottom lip, eyes wide to give you his puppy dog face. “Sometimes, when I miss you, and I know you’re busy and can’t talk, I scroll through your Instagram so I can see your face.”

You feel yourself melting at his words, the face he was giving you making you love him that much more. “Come here,” you tell him, pulling him up around the table. You take him by the collar down to your level, giving him a sweet kiss. “And, yes, I do think you’re really cute,” you say to him, kissing him again.

Vince watched in awe at his teammates. All of them were drunk, him, for once, being the most sober one around as they entered the bye week that took place around All-Star Weekend. He was waiting for you to show up, anxiously checking his phone to see if you had texted him anything saying that you and Patricia were at the bar. He hated being the only sober one, especially since it meant he would have to play dad if something happened unless you two showed up soon.

“You’re not drinking?” Sammy asks him, two beers in hand. Someone would think one was for Vince, but, no, both were for Sammy as he put the openings of both bottles in his mouth at once.

“I’m waiting for Y/N.”

“You’re whipped!” Sammy slurs, sitting down next to his friend in the booth he was refusing to get up from while he anxiously shakes his leg waiting to see you, rolling his eyes even though part of him knew he was right.

“Stop that,” Vince says, getting up and trying to shake his friend off in the crowded bar.

“You love her, right? I mean you have to love her to be like this,” Sammy insists, something he wouldn’t be doing had he not been drunk. Vince opens and closes his mouth, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted. “Dude.”

“You know I can’t say it,” is all Vince can let out. Sammy knows his past, Sammy knows what has happened to Vince. Saying it would mess something up. Those eight letters would ruin what he had with you when they were out in the open.

“I don’t know how to talk about this with you,” Sammy admits, eyes narrow since he was thinking about it anyway.

“I don’t think I want to talk about this with you.”

Before Sammy can say anything else, like magic, you appear at his side, Patricia in tow. “Hey,” you say to him, kissing him as he wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls away, looking over your shoulder to see Sammy making faces at the two of you, Vince giving him a look that told him to go away without you noticing.

Patricia wanders off with Sammy, leaving the two of you by yourselves. “How far deep are they?” you ask, dragging him to the bar so the two of you could start drinking, knowing you couldn’t drink so much that you would catch up with them, but enough that you wouldn’t have to act as the mother of the group.

“We’ve been here for an hour so I expect someone to be throwing up soon,” he laughs, not dropping your hand when the two of you sit down.

“If you’re drunk, do you have to take care of them?” you ask him, signalling to the bartender to come take your drink orders. You fall into conversation, watching Sammy strike out with multiple girls, Patricia spending the entire night with a single guy following her, something she clearly enjoyed as she milked at least four free drinks out of him.

“Think she’ll go home with him?” Vince asks, nodding over to Patricia as he finishes what might have been this third drink that night. As far as he knew, no one was throwing up, but now, he didn’t have to worry about it if he was just a little drunk.

You shrug, putting down your now empty glass. “If they both want that I guess.” You could feel yourself getting bored and tired, wishing that you and Vince could just leave and go home yourselves. But he looked like he was having fun watching the guys, a smile on his face whenever they did something stupid. You study Vinces face, his slightly pursed lips and his eyes sparkling as he watched Sammy strike out with what was probably his fourth girl of the night, Vince smiling as he couldn’t help but laugh at his friend. Your attentioned is pulled away by your phone buzzing in your hand, Nikki bombarding you with texts.

‘Have Vince watch these with you ;)’

She sends you two clips, both from a Halloween episode of New Girl. Unfamiliar with the show, you tap Vince to have him watch over your shoulder. You watch the two girls get into a limo, one going as far as exclaiming, “Hey, look! I’m in a limo! I wish I could have really long legs so I could stretch them out the length of the limo!”

The camera switches to a guy, telling them to have fun, saying, “I love you,” an immediate look of regret washing over his face, the girl in the limo responding with finger guns while her friend behind her mouthed, ‘No.’

You swallow hard, texting Nikki back yelling at her for it, definitely partially a product of the alcohol. You don’t even bother to look at the second video, afraid of what it would be and what it would bring considering the first one brought an awkward silence in the middle of the loud bar.

“Did you tell them?” he asks quietly, sitting back down next to you.

You straighten your posture, forming a thin line with your lips. “Yeah. I did. It was bothering me more than I thought it would and they figured it out.”

“How would they figure it out?” he snaps, his voice a little louder than it would have been had he not had so much to drink. “That’s not something you can just read on someone’s face.”

You take in a deep breath, knowing that people were starting to turn to look at the fight you were about to have. “Come on,” you grab him by his arm, leading him outside so at least if you started really fighting, they couldn’t kick you out. “Look, we were watching something where someone said I love you and the other person didn’t and I started crying,” you explain to him, feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

The people around you in the city were staring as they walked by, two idiots on a weird night causing a scene in a public. “Y/N,” he says, taking a step towards you and reaching for your hand.

You snatch it away, startling him that you were so quick. “No, Vince. I know I said it was fine,” you sob, “But it hurts. It hurts to love someone who doesn’t love you back. And I know you’ve been hurt before, but you’re letting that get in the way of you and me, and I don’t know how much longer I can handle being in love with you when you won’t even say you love me.”

He drops his head down, tears falling down his face while you were trying to fight your own from falling. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry for being afraid, but I am.”

“Do you love me?” you ask him, taking a step towards him.

He looks up at you, both of you crying. His eyes are red, he looks like he’s in pain. He tries to say something, only to shake his head, taking you in for a hug before either of you can do anything else. You can feel him crying in your shoulder, one hand in your hair, the other at the top of your back. You stand there for a moment in shock, not sure how to react. You react into his hold, trying to calm him down. You had never seen him cry like this before, in fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen him cry at all. You pull his head off your shoulder. His face soaked with tears. “I think you need to go home,” you tell him, wiping the tears from his face.

He doesn’t say anything, just pulling you in for another hug when the guys and Patricia stumble out of the bar. “Hey, we’re going to go to another bar,” Patricia tells you as you shake your head, signalling that she shouldn’t ask what was going on. “Do you guys want to come?”

“We can?” Vince questions, only looking at you, his face still red from the sobbing he had just done. “Unless you don’t want to.”

“You go with them. I’ll be fine, I want to go home anyway,” you insist, trying to push him off you. If there was one thing you hated, it was the kind of girls who made their boyfriends miss out on things with their friends because they insisted on attention, but you also didn’t want to be with him at this moment.

He smiles at you as you try to force yourself to not succumb to his looks, refusing to let go of you, “It’s not worth going with them if you aren’t going to be there with me.”

“Then don’t go. I’m going home.” You break free of his grip, turning on your heels and walking down the street to go home by yourself.

+one

“Dude, have you seen Nikki’s snapstory?” Sammy’s voice comes through Vince’s phone.

“No, why?”

The concern in Sammy’s voice resonated with Vince, “I think you need to go look.”

Vince puts his teammate on speaker to go find one of your best friend’s story. “I’m looking now, hold on.”

Nikki was in her car, a picture of your favorite flowers in front of her steering wheel, your apartment building in the background. She had captioned it with ‘Bought my best friend flowers to go tell her I love her because her boyfriend won’t say it.’

“Ah, fuck,” Vince mutters, closing out the app.

“What are you gonna do about this?”

“I gotta go,” he says, hanging up before Sammy can say anything else.

-------

You run to the door when you hear the knocking, hoping it was Vince since you hadn’t heard much from him since that night at the bar. Instead, you find Nikki standing in your doorway with your favorite flowers. “What are these?” you deadpan, still a little irritated with her.

“Vince won’t say I love you so I figured I would,” she tells you, kissing you on the cheek and brushing past you. “I love you!” she says, dramatically, plopping down on your couch and putting her feet on your coffee table.

You look at the flowers, biting your lip. You just wanted Vince to say it. But you get it. “They’re just eight letters. He doesn’t have to say it when he can just show it. And you sending that video the other night does not and will not help anything,” you scold her.

You hear her scoff as you go to put the flowers in some water. “You know I was right to send that video. How does he show you he loves you? How could he possibly tell you he loves you without saying ‘I love you?’”

Rolling your eyes, knowing that she’s seen him show you loves you plenty of times. You could either argue with her more over what she did, or just list the ways you knew she was already aware of. “He always makes sure I’m the last person he sends a text to or calls at night and the first person he does that with in the morning. Even if he wakes up in the middle of the night and answers someone else, he’ll still send me another text right after. He’ll give me his pickle whenever he gets them because he knows I love them, even though he does, too. If he sees something on the road that he thinks I’ll like he gets it for me to surprise me with when he comes home.” You can feel yourself starting to cry thinking of all the way Vince has shown he loves you. But you really just wanted to hear those three words. You just wanted that verbal confirmation from him.

“I mean, babe, that’s great, but if he really meant it, wouldn’t he say it?”

You join her on the couch, trying to figure out how to answer. “Not everyone is good with expressing their emotions with words,” you shrug, unable to look at whatever expression she had on her face. “He’s been hurt before, when he’s told a girl that he loved her. I understand why he wouldn’t want to flat out say it to me.”

You get up, going back to your kitchen to at least fake the need for a glass of water. “Well, what else does he do?” you hear Nikki call over the sound of your tap.

You swallow, unsure if listing the ways was making you happy or sad. “He asks me to call him when I get home so he knows I’m safe. He’ll snapchat me funny faces when I’m sad because he wants to see me smile. He’ll even leave the guys if I’m upset and stay on Facetime with me until I’m happy. When we’re in the car he has my playlist on because he wants to listen to my music because it makes me happy. He doesn’t have to tell me he loves me.”

“Yes he does,” you hear from the other room, a voice that wasn’t Nikki’s. You see Vince standing there, bags in hand, Nikki slinking away into the other room to give you privacy.

“Hey, babe, what are you doing here?” you ask him, giving him a kiss for the first time in what felt like forever, trying to take the bags from him when he pulls away. The two of you walk over to your couch, setting the bags down and hearing clinking from inside. “Can I look inside?”

“No, not yet,” he stops you, taking your hands in his to prevent you from reaching in. “I’ll get everything out. Just, just trust me.” He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “I told you I couldn’t say...it because of the girls I’ve said it to before. And god, I’m the worst for not saying it. But you deserve so much more.”

“Vince, what are you talking about? I don’t need mo-”

He cuts you off, handing you the first thing in the bag. A bottle of your favorite wine, a note taped to it. “You’re my partner in wine,” you read out to him, laughing at the goofy grin on his face telling you that he was proud of himself.

A bag of your favorite coffee grounds is placed in your hands next. “Words can not espresso how much you bean to me.”

A can of your favorite soup. “I ‘canned’ live without you.”

A snack pack of pudding. “Thanks for pudding up with me.”

There was food item after food item with a note taped to it with a different pun revolving around what he thought about you. He went to the grocery store for all your favorites, handing them to you one by one until he gave you the last item in the bags: a bar of your favorite cheese. “Sorry about being so cheesy.”

You look at him, seeing the embarrassed look on his face. His cheeks were red, unable to make eye contact with you but smiling anyway. “Well, now I don’t have to go grocery shopping,” you joke, him laughing along with you, “Vince, I love this.”

“And I love you.”

You can’t help the smile on your face, staring into his green eyes as his expression mirrors yours. “Really? I mean, I knew,” you explain, “But I didn’t think you’d say it. Why now?”

He smiles at you, taking your hands in his. “Because Nikki shouldn’t have to tell you she loves you because I can’t.”

“You’re welcome!” you hear Nikki yell from your room, both of you laughing.

“Oh my god,” he lets out at her obvious eavesdropping, his eyes closed, biting his bottom lip. “It’s not fair to you that you told me how you felt and I couldn’t tell you how I really felt.”

“Vince, you don’t have to apologize,” you try to tell him.

“No, no. I do,” he says, dropping your hands and cupping your face. His thumb traces along your cheekbones as he keeps going. “I chose shitty girls before you, and them hurting me ending up hurting you. I love you, and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to say it. You’re the only one I’ve ever really loved.” He pulls you in for a kiss, soft and sweet.

“I love you, too.”

#vince dunn #vince dunn imagines #dunner #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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escapewithbts · 4 years ago

Text

Clingy - Taehyung

——————————————————————

*knock knock*

"Tae?" you called softly through his closed studio door.

You heard the muffled sound of music and some shuffling around before he cracked open the door for you, immediately retreating back to the chair in front of his computer.

You entered cautiously and sat on the leather sofa, crossing your legs under you and glancing at your best friend.

"Hey," you said to him, "Is everything okay?"

You had been waiting alone at the band's shared dorm for Taehyung to come back from their performance, as the two of you had plans to hang out like usual. Whenever you had an evening off from work, you would come over to his place and spend time with him and sometimes the other members; they were your best friends after all. Tonight was no different for you, or so you thought, but when Taehyung entered the front door, he just mumbled a hello to you and locked himself in his room, shutting you out completely. You decided to give him some space and figured he would come out when he was ready, but it had been awhile and you were starting to worry.

"I'm fine." he responded shortly.

"Where are the rest of the members?" you wondered out loud.

Tae didn't glance up from his computer screen.

"They went to dinner with some staff."

"You didn't want to go?"

He shook his head in response.

"Why not?"

He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his thick black bangs.

"Just... not in the mood."

You cocked your head.

"But it's New Year's Eve, Tae. It sounds like it would be fun."

"Great, then you go if you want."

Yeesh. You weren't used to him being so moody. It wasn't really like him.

There was a pause as he just continued to play his computer game.

"Taehyung-ah, please tell me what's wrong," you pleaded, putting your hand on his muscular upper arm.

He shrugged you off and finally turned towards you. His eyes looked tired, his face looked puffy.

"What's wrong? What's wrong right now is that I really want to be alone, and you can't seem to take a hint."

Ouch.

"I-I'm sorry, I just thought maybe you wanted to talk, or I could help."

"Yeah well, I don't and you can't," he snapped, turning back to the computer, "Aiishh, (y/n), you're so clingy sometimes."

That was it. You could handle Taehyung being in a bad mood sometimes, you understood he got stressed, but you couldn't handle him just being a straight up jerk to you for no reason.

You stood up. You felt tears well up in your eyes from his harsh words, but you kept them from streaming down.

"Wow, Tae, you're in a pissy mood, I get it. But I didn't do anything, so don't take it out on me. Seriously, way to be an ass. I guess I'll go be 'clingy' somewhere else."

You started to walk out of the room, but you felt his hand grab your wrist.

"Where are you going? You can't go anywhere," it sounded almost like a command, "it's a blizzard out there."

You tore your hand away.

"I'll be fine!"

And with that you walked out of the room, grabbing your coat and pulling on your shoes.

"(y/n)!" you heard Taehyung call from the other end of the hallway.

But that was the last thing you heard as you stepped outside and slammed the door.

The air was cooling as it hit your hot face. It was a quiet winter night. And Taehyung was right, large snowflakes fell from the sky, adding to the already large amounts of snow that sparkled on the ground. It was the first significant snow shower of the season here in Seoul, and it had begun early in the day with no signs of stopping soon. Everywhere was covered with heaps of snow, so much of it that plows couldn't even keep up.

"Shit.." you mumbled to yourself, stepping out onto the nonvisible front pathway from the dorm. The snow crunched under your feet; you shivered and wrapped your arms around yourself.

You finally approached the driver's door of your sedan and climbed inside, blowing hot breath on your numb hands.

"This is so stupid," you whispered to yourself, sticking the key into the ignition, realizing this was probably a really dumb thing to do considering the weather.

You looked back at the dorm, the soft yellow glow of the lights looking so warm and inviting... But then you flashbacked to a couple minutes ago, the look on Taehyung's face as he snapped at you, the things he said. There was no way you were going back in there.

You turned the key. The car made a strange noise as if to say "What the hell, it's way too cold and snowy for this" but nevertheless it started.

While cautiously making your way through the deserted, snow covered streets of The Hanam Hills neighborhood, you grabbed your phone and dialed the only member and friend you knew wouldn't be at dinner with the rest of the boys: Yoongi. He was still recovering from the shoulder surgery he had a couple months ago so he wasn't participating in many of the band's activities. He was spending his recovery period at the apartment he bought for himself elsewhere in the city, so you figured maybe you could go there for some company. Plus, it was way closer in proximity than your place on the outskirts.

"(y/n)?" he answered after the second ring.

"Hey, Yoongi-ah... I'm sorry to call so unannounced and so late..." you trailed off, keeping your eyes fixated on the snowy road.

"You can call me anytime, you know that."

"Well... can I come over anytime? Like, now maybe?" you hesitated, knowing you were asking way too much.

"I thought you were hanging out with Taehyung tonight," he said, "Isn't Thursday your day off?"

You sighed, gripping the steering wheel so tightly your knuckles turned white.

"Yeah, but we kind of... he kind of... isn't in the best mood. We got in a small argument."

"Oh."

There was a pause in conversation before he spoke again.

"Well, yeah, you can come here, of course. Just let me know when you're outside and I'll buzz you in."

"Thank you, Yoongi-ah."

"Mmmhmm, but be careful, I heard it's getting bad out there."

You nodded. If only he knew.

"I will. See you soon."

And you hung up the phone.

It was so hard to see in front of you. The snowflakes coming towards the windshield were distracting, the actual road wasn't visible under all the feet of snow. The only source of light were the dim streetlights, barely visible through all the white.

You turned to exit the complex, but suddenly, your tires lost traction in the midst of the turn.

"Oh no, no, no, no!" you pressed your foot down on the brake hard instinctively, but that only made it worse as your car swerved and did a complete 180. It went over what you assumed was the sidewalk and into a small ditch, barely skimming past the streetlamp a few feet away.

Your heart was pounding and your hands were shaking as you tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You were okay, luckily, and so was your car, but the snow was so piled up in this ditch you were in that you couldn't open the driver side door.

You put your foot gently on the gas pedal, but your tires only sped in place, spewing snow behind them.

" No no nooo," you put your head down on the steering wheel in frustration unsure of what to do next.

But you knew what you would have to do... set your pride and anger aside and call Tae.

You sighed, reaching for your phone when sudden bright headlights shone across your dashboard. Relief washed over you. Maybe this person would help you.

As the car approached however you quickly recognized Taehyung's own Hyundai Genesis.

It stopped on the road next to where you had spun off and he jumped out, hastily running toward your car as fast as he could through the thick layers of snow.

"(Y/n)! (Y/n!)! Are you okay??" His voice was frantic as he peered in the passenger window. You cracked it a little so you could speak to him.

"I-I'm fine, just a little shaken up. I tried to take the turn but I think I was going too fast..."

He stood up straight and ran a hand through his hair.

"(Y/n) we have to get you out of there. Can you climb across the middle?"

You nodded, doing as he suggested and crawling out through the passenger side door he was holding open for you. He didn't touch you, fearful of how you would react considering your last conversation.

"Come on,” he said softly, walking towards his car, “let's get back to the dorm. We can come back for your car first thing in the morning."

You nodded in agreement as the two of you got back into his car. It was warm, there were the soft sounds of jazz music playing on the radio and the windshield wipers going back and forth. You both sat there in silence.

"I'm sorry, (y/n)." Taehyung finally said quietly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, afraid tears might start again.

"Listen, if you want me to be around less you just have to tell me-"

"No! No," Taehyung was quick to reply, "no, just no. Don't ever think that. I just..." he fiddled with the thin silver rings he always wore on his fingers, "I had a bad day, I took my frustrations out on you, like you said and I'm sorry."

You looked down at your lap.

"Ok."

He sighed continuing.

"You're not clingy, (y/n), if anything... I want you around more."

You looked up at his undeniably handsome face and watched him flick his bangs from his eyes.

"I think... part of the reason I'm frustrated," he paused, looking straight out the front window and adjusting his long wool coat, "is because, well... I've been struggling with telling you how I really feel."

You cocked your head at him, confused.

"What do you mean, Tae?"

He cleared his throat and bit his lip which you knew meant he was gathering his thoughts.

"I think...” he took a deep breath, “I’d like to be more than friends. I-I've been falling in love with you, (y/n).”

You caught your breath in your throat. It completely caught you off guard. You weren't sure how you felt. Taehyung loved you? The thought gave you butterflies.

He peered up at you shyly, waiting for your response

"Tae, I-I don't-" you struggled to get out words. He looked concerned but you took a deep breath and continued, "Spending time with you is always the best part of my day. I worry about you constantly. You-you make me laugh, you're so interesting and smart and... unpredictable" you both chuckled at that, "Not to mention incredibly talented and ridiculously handsome..." you mumbled that last part, embarrassed it came out of your mouth.

Taehyung laughed softly.

He put his large warm hand around your small cold one resting on the middle console. You loved the way his long fingers curled around yours.

"Well then... what do you think?" He asked softly, "Do you want to give this... give us a try?"

You looked up into his hopeful dark brown eyes, his full pink lips, the adorable mole on the tip of his nose. It's like you were seeing him in a whole different light; for the first time again.

You nodded slowly and a wide boxy smile appeared on his face.

"Alright everybody, it's that time!" the radio DJ suddenly announced, "Let the countdown begin! 10! 9! 8!"

You and Taehyung looked at each other timidly.

"7! 6! 5!"

He squeezed your hand and leaned over the center, coming closer towards you.

"4! 3! 2!"

Your heart was pounding, Taehyung's face right in front of yours, his lips looking so soft and pillowy.

"1!!! Happy New Year!!!"

And with that his lips met yours in a tender kiss. Your heart felt full. His hand went to the back of your head and you broke apart, foreheads still touching. He ran his thumb along your cheek and smiled.

"Happy New Year, (y/n)." He mummered in his soft, deep voice.

You smiled back.

"Happy New Year, Tae."

Masterlist

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softomi · 4 years ago

Text

now accepting boyfriend applications: intro to business

synopsis: it’s crazy how things can slip the mind, just like how you posted about wanting boyfriend applications but granted, you were drunk. It seemed like Akaashi had the upper hand; until a certain classmate intrudes your mind.

series: now accepting boyfriend applications

previous: literature

next up: biology

series taglist: @kyomihann @chesley-cant-deal @bluearmufs @your-consulting-fangirl @itsmeaudrieee @winunk @aegiseterna @katelyns-stuff @mochipk @3rachachoo @kyuudere @sixthself @merakiulous-k @notsostraightweeb

*bold means I wasn’t able to tag you*

general taglist: @graykageyama @tsumue @thesorebae @micasaessakusa @alouphen @waitforitillwritemywayout @chibichab @trifliz

“I’m almost positive that guy wasn’t your boyfriend.” Kuroo would know, he probably isn’t going to tell you that he’s familiar with Akaashi due to a mutual friend. Instead, he lifts his chin, “ex-boyfriend.” He corrects himself.

You bite the insides of your mouth, “No he was not.”

You’re back to an internal groan, now you were stuck with the next boyfriend candidate and it’s starting to feel like you’re speed dating.

“Business is all about—” It’s ten minutes into class and your professor enjoys beginning class with an inspirational quote which then smoothly leads into lecture. Only, today, it seems as though he’s taking forever to get to the point of the quote.

Like always, Kuroo remains fixated on the lecture. He was the type to never take notes, though his notebook was out, and his pen is twirling in his hand, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him write anything down. Yet he was somehow managing a ninety-eight percent in the class, what an intelligent prick.

“You good?” He’s mouthing to you and you’ve realized that you had been staring.

You nod in an attempt that he doesn’t catch how embarrassed you actually were to have been caught looking at him. Kuroo turns back to the lecture and now you’re staring down at your phone that is reaching sixty percent. You shamelessly pull up the pdf he had sent you.

“Are you reading my letter of intent?”

You lock your phone so fast; it almost falls on the floor. You’re only lucky that it falls off the desk and Kuroo’s reflexes quickly catch the cell. The action makes both of your desks squeak against the floor and everyone’s heads turn. Both you and Kuroo mutter apologies as he hands you back your phone.

“Cat got your tongue?” He’s stupidly smirking, and you’re tempted to kick him, “Did you read it?”

“No.” You say in a hushed voice, turning your eyes to the board trying to pay attention for once.

He, also, turns to look at the board. Chin resting on his palm, “What a shame.”

For the rest of the class period, he remains silent. He’s fixated on the professor’s lecture, but your mind is racing. Your leg is bouncing rapidly, fingers tapping against the desk, you’re itching to touch your phone but scared it’ll make Kuroo pull another move to talk to you.

The lecture drags, you want to go back to sleep, and you’re suddenly realizing that you’ve skipped breakfast and lunch. Your stomach growls, to you it sounds like a dinosaur’s roar but no one else in the room seems to have heard it. Once more it growls, making you lean your head on the desk with a heavy sigh. You were starving, suddenly aware that you’ve left your wallet at home, and you’ve neglected to add your card to your cell phone so now you’re contemplating skipping your biology lab or starving for the rest of the day.

Your head is laid on its side, giving you perfect view of Kuroo’s side profile. His bed hair looks soft and you’ve got to admit that his jawline is exquisite. He smirks, eyes looking at you from the side. You’d feel embarrassed but you’re hungrier even to the point of being angry.

The lecture drags on and at this point you think you might die from the way your stomach is crying.

“Are you hungry?” Kuroo asks after the fifth time your stomach as growled.

“Is it that obvious?”

Kuroo laughs lowly, “You sound like a car that won’t start.”

You take full offence, “Shut up.”

He was always like this, playful and poking jabs at you. He loved to banter with you and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t like it. Talking with him was like talking to a childhood friend, it’s easy going and free spirited. Even when the two of you were studying for the first business exam, tucked in a hidden space on the second floor of the library; the studying was abandoned when he kept showing you funny scenes from an anime, resulting in you watching the anime on his tiny cell phone screen despite the both of you clearly having your laptops out.

Kuroo leans close to you, “Want to get out of here?”

“Right now?” You whisper, “We still have forty-five minutes left.”

Kuroo is shutting his notebook, “I’ll buy you lunch.”

“Bet.”

You’re trying to hide your laughter as you and Kuroo slowly pack up to leave. Now the only thing was to try and leave without making the biggest scene. You’ve successfully stood, only drawing small attention as you’re headed for the door. Kuroo seems to struggle, as he picks up his bag, it knocks against the empty desk next to him, drawing full attention to himself and you. It’s deadly silent, you’re frozen at the door and Kuroo is rushing to you.

“Go!” Kuroo pushes you out of the class.

“That was so embarrassing!” The laughter coming from you makes you run out of breath, “How are we supposed to go back to class on Tuesday?”

“Why were you just standing at the door!” Kuroo is yelling yet laughing at the same time.

You slap his arm, “You’re the one who decided to announce that we were leaving in the middle of the lecture. God, the professor probably hates us now.”

You’ve reached the small café in the business department, it doesn’t have a lot of options, mostly cold sandwiches and packaged snacks. The café drinks are way too expensive and even the water bottle is pricey; way to go education.

“Get whatever you like, I’m paying.” His words are smooth and for a second you believe him.

His body turns away from you, pretending as though he’s looking at the drink menu, you can clearly see that he’s checking his wallet. His shoulders visibly deflate and while you fake trying to pick something from the prepackaged area, you watch as he checks his account balance on his cell phone. His head seems to fall back irritatingly. It’s cute, he was trying so hard, but the world was being too cruel on him.

“Kuroo?” You call him. He’s slowly turning, hoping that he doesn’t have to take back his words. You wave him over to show the cheapest sandwich possible, “Want to split it with me?”

“You could get something better?” Kuroo tries looking at the other options, “What about a coffee?”

He was too sweet. You’re smiling, “Nah. I drank a lot last night so I don’t think coffee will sit well in my stomach and I’ve been meaning to go on a diet so if you take half my sandwich, it’ll be like I’m starting early.”

He’s still adamant on wanting to buy you something more expensive, “You could literally get this sub, it’s more filling and what do you mean diet, you’re literally perfect right now.”

A heavy blush appears on your cheeks, you slap his shoulder, pushing him by his back, “Just share a sandwich with me idiot.”

“But the sub.”

You’re kicking him in the ass, “Mention the sub one more time Kuroo, I swear to god I’ll leave you high and dry right now.”

You settle on seats by the window, you’re opening the packaged sandwich and in an attempt to stay cheap, Kuroo secretly stole cups while you distracted the cashier and he was grabbing water from the fountain.

“So.” Kuroo starts, “You haven’t read my application yet?”

You almost choke on your dry sandwich, “Must we talk about that now.”

Kuroo raises a finger, “You know what, I’ll just read it to you now.”

He was dead serious, pulling out his phone to bring up his pdf form. He was the absolute worst, yet it’s absolutely hilarious the way he fixes his clothing as if preparing for an interview.

“I’ll start with my letter of intent.”

You’re already giggling, trying to hide behind your sandwich.

“I am writing this to inform you of my interest for the position of Boyfriend. I have been highly interested in this position ever since you asked me for a pencil and then returned it back to me a week later, not realizing that you had given me a different pencil. I knew I liked you because of how cute you looked apologizing for not returning the pencil earlier.”

You never thought you could smile so wide before until this moment. Kuroo mimics your smile, looking back down to his phone.

“I don’t have a lot to offer but I can say with confidence that I can beat you at Mario Kart. I’ve been practicing and honing my skills for this moment; I heard that boyfriends need to be good at Mario Kart and if I am accepted for this position, please don’t fall for my best friend because he is better than me at Mario Kart.”

You snort, laughter emitting from your lips. You were on the verge of tears at how funny this application was.

“Lastly, we have similar taste in anime so obviously the 2d world also ships us.”

You hum at the last sentence, “Obviously.” You roll your eyes.

He sets his cell phone down, he’s finished his sandwich by now, practically inhaled it and he watches you eat your last bite. It’s a comfortable silence, really, maybe you were so caught up in the friendship that you had never gotten to think about him in a relationship sense.

“If you think about it.” He’s staring, “This is basically our first date.”

You choke on your water, coughing loudly and he finds your reaction funny. He’s patting your back and you feel so bad that you’re basically spitting on him.

“Kuroo.” You begin.

“Ah.” He knows where this is going. He waves a hand around, “You don’t have to give me an answer. Just.” He pauses, “Just consider me in the future.”

“Is that y/n I see?”

Your expression falters the moment you hear the voice of your biology lab partner, “Atsumu? What are you doing here? Did you get lost?”

Atsumu chuckles, a hand over his heart at your jab, “So hurtful. My brother’s taking some business classes, I had to drop something off for him.” Atsumu makes eye contact with Kuroo, “Hope I’m not interrupting something.”

That was a lie, you can tell. His cheeky grin says that he was absolutely hoping that he was interrupting something. Kuroo seems to not mind, at least from what you can tell. But in his mind, it’s the same as when he had seen Akaashi; a competitor. Especially when you’re trying to shrug Atsumu’s arm off your shoulder, Atsumu pinched your cheek causing a tick to grow on your forehead.

“Kuroo Tetsuro.” He puts a hand out.

Atsumu smirks, gripping the male’s hand, “Miya Atsumu.”

There’s a strong way that they grip each other, their faces are smiling, but their grip is testing the other.

“Well.” Atsumu has a hand on the back of your seat, “We have biology in about fifteen minutes, we should probably head over there.” Atsumu grins to Kuroo, “We’re partners, I was hoping you could show me again how to use the microliter pipettes.”

“Again?” You eye him.

Atsumu has his hands in the air defensively, “It’s just so confusing. The lab manual doesn’t describe it well.” You miss the way he smirks from behind you, “And besides, I learn better with hands on education.”

Kuroo returns the smirk, “Your hand must hurt having to grow up teaching yourself.”

The sharp inhale of laughter you take when you’re drinking causes the water to come out your nose. You’re laughing, coughing, and your nose is burning. Kuroo is handing you napkins and Atsumu’s jaw clenches.

“I’m sorry.” You put a hand on Atsumu’s shoulder, “but that was really funny.” You pat his cheek when he pouts, “Let’s go, I’ll show you how to use the pipette before lab starts.” You turn to Kuroo, “I’ll see you later.”

Kuroo gives you a smile, “I’ll message you.”

Atsumu frowns, even as he walks away with you, he looks over his shoulder, chin lifted, attempting to display dominance even until the last moment.

#now accepting boyfriend applications #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader #hq x reader #kuroo scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #hq scenarios

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little-diable · 4 years ago

Text

Making love - Damon Salvatore (smut)

Request by anon: Hi dear! Can I request a Damon (TVD) imagine & Smut where a human reader is amazingly opposite of Damon in naturewise. She is very innocent,very shy,always seeing good in people and helping others willingly. And all of these qualities attracted Damon so much towards her that he falls head over heels in love with her. And one day when she gets into trouble, he saves her as he's really scared of losing her and ends up confessing his love to her and then they do some really good, passionate sex😉

Oh what a nice idea, I loved writing this. Enjoy my love. xxx

Warning: kidnapping.

“You’re staring.”, Damon barely missed the teasing undertone in Stefans voice, his brothers eyes were focused on his phone screen, probably texting Elena, while Damons piercing blue ones were fixated on (y/n)s figure. The (y/h/c) haired girl was walking around the car boot sale, talking to the locals, seeing if anybody was in need for a helping hand.

Stefan liked to tease his older brother about his obsession with (y/n), but in all honesty, both brothers knew, that Damon was attracted to the innocent, shy girl. He was mesmerized by her, not only by her looks, but also, among many other things, by the way she’d only see the good in people, (y/n) could only be described as ‘selfless’. She was the complete opposite of Damon, while he was drunk most of the time, she’d help out wherever she was needed, would babysit, would work as a waitress or spend some time in the local retirement home.

(Y/n) kind of suspected, that Damon took an interest in her, she felt his eyes on hers from time to time, most of her friends, like Bonnie or Elena, tried to question her about her feelings for the vampire, something (y/n) wasn’t quite sure about herself. Of course, she was attracted to him, how could she not be, but he scared her, she knew of his reckless ways around human beings, knew that he couldn’t really be trusted, (y/n) wasn’t ready to suffer from another heartbreak.

“Damon?”, Bonnies frantic voice ripped him out of his thoughts, he was seated on his sofa, a glass of bourbon in his hands, eyes focused on the fireplace. His blue eyes found hers, a clear expression of panic across her face as she stepped into the living room, “it seems as if (y/n) is missing.”, it was just above a whisper, she momentarily closed her eyes as his glass of bourbon fell out of his hands and crashed on the floor. “What?”, his voice was deep, dripping with venom, his eyes turned dark, fingers began to tingle, the need to rip somebody to shreds overcame him.

Apparently (y/n) couldn’t be found anywhere, her phone was switched off, nobody had seen her for the past few hours, but as Damon stepped into her apartment, he found a piece of black fabric on the floor, a fabric that seemed way too familiar to him, “Katherine.”, was the only thing he said, before speeding out of (y/n)s home.

He couldn’t think straight, he felt anxious, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, the thought alone, that (y/n) could be hurt, made his blood boil. Damon was ready to rip Katherine apart, to burn her body and finally end her pathetic excuse of a life.

(Y/n) felt uneasy as she opened her eyes, it didn’t take her long to remember what had happened, a dark haired woman had knocked on her door, asked if she could use her phone and the next thing she could remember was laying on her kitchen floor, blood pooling from her nose, hands getting tied together. It was too dark to see anything, she was sitting on a wooden chair, hands tied behind her back, the rope was burning into her skin. Her heart was rapidly beating, (y/n)s skin was burning, sweat was pooling on her skin, she was hyperventilating, an anxiety attack was washing upon her.

Damon didn’t need much time to find Katherine, she was already waiting for him, a smirk on her lips as he stepped into the room, “Hello Damon, long time no see.”. He had her pinned against the wall, hands wrapped around her throat, veins began to form underneath his eyes, “where is she?”, his voice was raspy, not an ounce of gentleness in it. Katherine couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping her lips, only urging him on to tighten his grip on her throat, “I’m not going to repeat myself Kath-”, a loud cough switched his focus away from the vampire, eyes frantically searching the room, desperately trying to find where she was hiding (y/n).

Her vision was slowly becoming black, the whole room was spinning, coughs wrecked through her, she felt the air slowly leaving her lungs. (Y/n) began to fumble around on the chair, pushing it to the side and crashing down on the floor, a deep groan left her lips. Just as she felt herself losing her focus, the door got ripped open, her (y/e/c) eyes found Damons, a relieved sigh left her lips, before she finally blacked out.

Damon cradled her in his arms, speeding her to the mansion, placing her down on his bed, checking her weak pulse from time to time, eyes focused on her face as he patted her forehead with an ice-cold washcloth. “Come on, (y/n).”, his fingers traced circles into the soft skin of her hands, not willing to leave her side anytime soon, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling, that she only got hurt, because of him.

The cough that hallowed through the room, switched his focus onto her face, a small “finally”, left his lips before he grabbed the glass of water and helped her sit up. “Where am I?”, (y/n) eyes were wandering across the room, it took her a few seconds before she found his blue eyes, knitting her eyebrows together in the process, “Damon?”.

He interlaced his fingers with hers, biting down on his lips, a lump began to form in his throat, “I’m sorry, (y/n).”, Damon felt her delicate fingers grasping his chin, pulling him closer, “it’s not your fault, you rescued me, after all.”, a smile on her lips as her thumb traced his cheek.

Damon couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and pressing his lips onto hers, it didn’t take (y/n) long to move her mouth against his, hands wandering up to his hair, tangling themselves in it. Damon pushed her down onto her back, hovering above her, lips still attached to hers as his hands wandered underneath her shirt, coaxing a moan out of her. Her grip on his hair got tighter, desperately trying to pull him closer, the once so shy girl felt quite confident in that moment.

His mouth moved down to her neck, just below her jaw, giving her a few seconds to catch her breath, (y/n)s head fell back against the pillow, a whine escaped her lips as he sucked on her skin. “Fuck, I love you, (y/n).”, he whispered against her neck, he needed to tell her, couldn’t go any further without confessing his feelings for her, a slight chuckle rumbled through her. (Y/n) pulled him in for another kiss, the warm feeling that was flooding through her, was enough confirmation for (y/n), “I love you too, Damon, now please, keep on touching me.”.

Damons hand on her waist clutched the fabric of her shirt between his fingers, pulling it over her head, a moan left her lips as he attached his lips to the skin just above her bra, fingers tracing her hardening nipples through the fabric. The vampire was mesmerized by the sight, the way her back was slightly arched, eyes shut, fingers desperately trying to find something to hold on to. (Y/n) felt a burning sensation between her tights, her panties were soaked by now, she was desperate for him, needed to feel him where her body was aching for him. “Please, Damon.”, she whimpered, hands tugging on the sides of his shirt, helping him to rip it off.

His fingers tugged on her trousers, pulling them off before tracing her thong, fingers slipping beneath it, circling her throbbing clit. He ran his digits through her folds, fingers slipping right into her core, a deep moan escaping her, while he was doing so. “So wet for me.”, he slightly bit into the soft skin of her thighs, marking her, pumping his fingers into her heat, drawing her closer to her long awaited release. (Y/n) kept on moaning as he curled his fingers upwards, teasing her sweet spot, she was trembling underneath his touch, ready to be pushed over the edge.

It was only a matter of time, till (y/n) came hard and fast around his fingers, head pressed into the pillow, eyes shut, fingers tugging on the bedsheets, a wave of adrenaline overcame her as he kept on pumping his fingers. Damon kissed the skin of her abdomen, calming her down, giving her a few seconds to cool off, before he got rid off the rest of his clothing. “Jesus, he’s big”, hallowed through her mind, her eyes were focused on his member, she had to touch him, to feel his soft skin underneath her fingers.

(Y/n) crawled towards him, hands attaching themselves to his length, pumping him, circling his tip, his deep moans were music to her ears. “Oh god, (y/n).”, Damons eyes were focused on her hands, his orgasm was nearing at an embarrassing speed, he was ready to release himself right there and then. She pressed a wet kiss onto his tip, licking a long stripe along his shaft, trying to fit as much as she could into her mouth. A gurgled cry escaped him as she hallowed her cheeks, Damon thrusted his hips into her mouth, making her gag on his length. “Gonna cum, (y/n).”, he whispered as he closed his eyes, ready to release himself into her mouth, the salty taste of his arousal was heavy on her tongue, a taste she could get used to.

“Such an angel.”, Damon pushed her back, kissed her lips, she was savoring the calm moment, eyes fluttering close at the sensation. He grabbed his throbbing length, tapping it against her clit a few times, coaxing groans out of her, running it through her folds and finally, slowly inserting himself into her heat. Damon gave her a few seconds to adjust to his length, she could feel every inch of him inside of her, a burn began to build up between her thighs, “move, please.”, she whispered against his neck.

It took him a few moments to find a rhythm that was suitable for the both of them, “so tight, Jesus.”, his eyes rolled backwards, the warm feeling that was overcoming him, was completely new to him, just now Damon realized that he was indeed “making love” to her, something he probably had never experienced before. His hips rolled against hers, passionately claiming her as his in every way possible, she was a moaning mess, it felt good - too good.

Damon picked up his speed, one hand was toying with her clit, drawing her closer to her release. “I’m close Damon.”, her hands tugged on his hair, pulling him closer, moaning against his lips. “Oh god, please do that again.”, his tip kept on gazing her sweet spot, she was clenching around him, her moans were getting muffled by his lips on hers, tongues fighting for dominance as he pushed her over the edge.

Deep moans left both of their lips, a strong orgasm washed over her, adrenaline was pumping through her veins as the pressure began to explode in her gut. Damon gripped her thighs to rock her body in time with his, he made no move to pull out as his length twitched inside of her, releasing himself into her core, with one last, deep moan escaping him.

Silence engulfed the pair, both of them tried to catch their breathing, his front was pushed flush against hers, head buried in her neck. She felt strangely content in that moment, she was ready to finally let him in, to give him a chance and prove his love to her, just like she was planning to do.

#damon salvatore #damon salvatore imagine #Damon imagine #Damon #Damon x reader #Damon salvatore x reader #Damon salvatore smut #tvd #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries smut #stefan salvatore #ian somerhalder

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quarantined-with-bucky · 4 years ago

Text

Shopping

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

Request: Hi! May I ask for a hc or scenario in wich Bucky falls for the reader who has a "spoiled brat" stereotype...u know? Like a Regina George from Mean Girls type of attitude, Maybe the reader is the daughter of someone important who Bucky needs to protect idk I thought it could be quite fun, anyway...loved your writing so much in "Dichotomy" ❤

Words: ~ 4,500

Summary: Bucky’s paid to be your bodyguard and you’re, well, kind of a bitch.

Warnings: None! For once ;)

...

There is three things men want in life.

1. They want to see if they can fuck you.

2. They want to see if they can fuck you over.

3. They want to get you out the fucking picture.

That was simply a fact of life. It was especially accurate in the world you grew up in: the world of powerful men, fast cars, vast mansions, and extravagant wardrobes. There was something about everyone’s cut-throat attitude that also seemed to drag along these luxuries. It was all about showing off: who had the most expensive car, whose house was bigger – whose wife was hotter.

This is the climate you grew up in: constant competition, envious friends, malicious enemies. There was a certain image you were expected to maintain, so you did exactly that. Not only did you have the weight of one day taking over your father’s company on your shoulders, you had the paparazzi stalking your every move. There wasn’t a single moment of peace in your life. You couldn’t go to the mall or the grocery store without at least one picture of you showing up on Daily Mail.

You’d grown up with it and, for the most part, you didn’t have to do things like that anyway. There was always someone to do those menial tasks for you.

Until you moved out of your parents’ house. You finally graduated college; a twenty-something kid finally ready to jump into the world on your own two feet. You were eagerly awaiting your move into your New York City apartment – a swanky two-bedroom on the top floor of a building in Soho.

Everything was going swimmingly well until you had an altercation with paparazzi. It was hard to navigate the narrow streets and sidewalks of the city, and as you were meeting your friend at a restaurant, you found it was a little too easy for the cameramen to push you around on the street. However, while you were thinking more along the lines of a restraining order against them, your father had other ideas.

“No way,” you interrupted, holding your hands up to your father. “That’s not happening.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “It is happening. Unless you want this to happen again.” He tossed the stack of newspapers onto your dining table, the photo of you on the front page sliding across the table towards you. The title read “(Y/N) Falters – Will She Fumble Daddy’s Company?” You bit the inside of your cheek, the photo immortalized you trying to push past the group of people photographing your every step, the bright flashes causing you to hold your hands in front of your eyes. “This won’t be happening again.”

…

That’s how you met Bucky. At first, it was nice to have him around. He shook your hand once as he introduced himself. It was months before he even said anything else to you. He stood posted up in the doorway of every room you walked into. He wore a smart looking suit ever day, the top few buttons of his shirt undone to show off his tanned muscles underneath.

He walked you to restaurants, taking the lead, keeping the paparazzi at a far distance away from you. He followed you around shopping, carrying your Gucci, Dior, and Balenciaga bags to your car for you. God, it was a dream. What was even dreamier were his eyes. Before anyone approached you to speak with you, he stopped them, turning his head to look at you for your nod of approval before letting them past. And holy fuck those two seconds of fleeting eye contact made you absolutely melt. You almost started scheduling unnecessary appointments into your schedule just so he could face you again for confirmation. You stared back at him as seductively as possible, eyes half lidded, glossy, staring back at him and tilting your head in the slightest nod.

That was the only time he ever acknowledged you. That, and when he opened your car door for you. He never said much – if anything – at all. But his presence was so demanding: his shoulders were so broad, his chest constantly puffed out, his jaw clenched, and eyebrows narrowed in challenge. It took every bit of willpower not to jump his bones.

…

You had a certain mentality when it came to work. There was a certain image to be portrayed. You always dressed to the nines: a fitted suit, usually Balmain or Chanel, complete with gold jewelry and tall heels. Your makeup was done every day: a neutral pallet, something that unsuspecting peers would assume to be natural. Your hair was always perfectly in place: either cascading smoothly down your back or pinned neatly into a bun. Not only were you running the company, but you were also the face of the company.

You walked around with your head held high, shoulders back, and with determination in your step. People watched you as you walked down the hallway. Maybe some in admiration, others envy, even a few with desire. You always heard their whispers, though.

Bucky walked in-toe with you always remaining a cool two steps behind you; you could feel his gaze burning into the back of his head. You entered your office, Bucky taking his usual post by the door. You plopped down in your large leather chair, preparing yourself for your meeting.

Your morning got progressively worse as the meetings progressed, people not cooperating, work not being done, no conflicts getting resolved. As you last meeting ended, and the particularly patronizing man left your office, you couldn’t hold back muttering a “fucking prick” as the door shut behind him.

Bucky pinched is lips together, holding back a smirk. You reclined in your chair, watching him regain his poise quickly, eyes not moving from the fixed position on the wall in front of him. “You know, James,” you spoke up, instantly getting his attention. “That was my last meeting today; you can sit, if you’d like.” You gestured to the seating area across the room.

He nodded in thanks, strutting across the room and sitting on the black couch in front of you. All you wanted was to join him on the couch. The things you could do to him on that couch – the things he could do to you on that couch. “You can call me Bucky,” he stated, reclining against the back, legs spreading open a tad bit.

You nodded stiffly and bit your bottom lip, unable to tear your eyes away from his splayed posture. “Bucky,” you whispered, testing his name on your tongue. And, damn, it tasted good.

You snapped yourself out of your fixation, pulling your laptop in front of you, pretending to work as you couldn’t get that image out of your head. The face that you could still see his propped-up figure over the top of your laptop screen; his eyes had not drifted from your person.

…

Your were temporarily blinded, gripping the back of Bucky’s jacket as he pushed through the crowd of people, shoving open the door to the lobby of your apartment. Calling the elevator, he watched as you smoothed down the ends of your hair, trying to rub the light spots out of your eyes as best you could without smudging mascara all over your face. He ushered you in once the doors opened, holding a hand lightly to your waist.

You dropped your back against the shiny elevator walls, crossing your arms over your chest and staring at the reflection on the wall in front of you. You looked tired, makeup wearing off under your eyes, purple circles under your eyes becoming prominent; a few flyaways framed your face, curling and unruly. The doors opened and you pushed your way through before Bucky. You shoved open the apartment door, throwing your purse on the table, viciously kicking of your heels. You heard Bucky shut the door softly and he paused before entering the kitchen behind you.

Today had been effectively one of the worst days of your life. Work was terrible: your day was run with meetings and disrespectful colleagues, bulldozing over all your ideas and suggestions; it rained during lunch, completely ruining the Coach heels you were wearing to attend the business luncheon; afterwards was much worse. You were highlighted in the issue of Forbes Magazine. You’d been waiting for this for months: you’d done multiple interviews, had photoshoots, the whole nine yards. You were excited for the world to see the underlying factors of what made you you; for them to finally recognize not only your past academic achievements, but also all you have accomplished thus far with the company, for them to see that you were capable – qualified – to run this company.

Boy were you hopeful.

You were met, in fact, with quite the opposite.

Waves upon waves of criticism washed upon you after the release. You were met with all kinds of backtalk: everything from you inheriting the company, to being accepted into college because of your dads’ money, to “stick to makeup, honey.” People began commenting on how they thought you walked all over people, how you rarely seemed friendly in the workplace, how you “used men.”

It couldn’t be more the opposite.

While you liked to maintain a certain image and always have a presentable appearance, despite any men or women that sought after you, you’d turned them downs. In fact, you’d never had a boyfriend – let alone any friends.

You worked hard to retain a respectable image. The problem with working and living in a dog-eat-dog world is the sacrifices you had to make to maintain such an image. You couldn’t simply allow people to walk all over you – achieving this took years. You had to speak up in times others would cower, use your voice when there was an issue other did not seem to care about. You had to walk with your head held high and your shoulders back.

Once you obtained dominance in the workplace, you had to conquer the world of love. It could make you gag. You wanted to intimidate the men that once patronized you. You wanted them to want you, fight over you, worship you. But you’d ever let them have you. Nobody could see you vulnerable, nobody could love you, touch you, blackmail you. That’s the way it had to be.

But you couldn’t always be so ruthless. Right now, you leaned against the counter, dropping your hands onto the cold marble surface. It was one of those days like today where everything got the best of you. Everyone tore you apart, you’d spent the last half of the day just reading tweets about yourself.

“She looks like such a bitch.”

“Would it kill her to smile? Not the kind of boss I’d want to work for.”

“My friend worked for her and said she has everyone else do her work for her.”

“Forbes, is this issue recognizing daddy’s money?”

Bucky placing a mug next to you pulled you out of your thoughts. You stared down at the steaming mug, Bucking suddenly speaking up: “maybe if you drank something, you’d feel better.”

You pushed past him, shoving him away from you as you headed to your bedroom. God, all you wanted was to be alone. Did he have to be here every second of the day? All you wanted was silence and he picks this one time to start babying you? You slammed the door shut, the sound echoing throughout the vast apartment. You stripped your nice clothes, opting for a shower and large t-shirt for bed.

Bucky sat in the living room, listening to you shuffle around your bedroom. He finally stood, ready to head home, when he heard the softest sound come from you bedroom. A sniffle. Followed by another.

He leaned against the doorframe, listening to the noises that he’d never heard from you before – hell, he never thought you were capable of that emotion. He weighed his options carefully: go inside and comfort you, it didn’t seem like you had a lot of close friends or even family that checked in on you, you must’ve felt so alone, and everyone attacking you definitely didn’t feel nice; he could leave and let you deal with this on you own – which is probably what you wanted, considering he knew how long it took you to create your façade. However, Bucky could see right through it – he could always see through it. No matter how intimidating and powerful you wanted yourself to be, he and everyone else knew that you were a spoilt brat trying to live up to daddy’s expectations, but only he knew that at your deepest core, you were a tired, lonely, sad little girl, wishing for just one day of invisibility, in which nobody knew who you were, nobody care about you – like you didn’t exist.

…

You and Bucky continued your usual routines from then on, nothing changed. He didn’t talk to you; you didn’t talk to him. He spent his time pushing people out of your way, and you went along pretending nobody existed.

It was two weeks after that when you spoke to him for the third time. You and Bucky were walking from the parking garage to your place. That’s when a masked man came out from behind you and grabbed a hold of your purse. You helped in surprise as he tried to run past you, one hand loosely gripping your Birkin. Before you could even turn to the direction he ran off in, Bucky’s hand hit him square in the jaw. You gasped, holding your hands up to your open mouth as Bucky knelt on top of the man, continuously hitting him and holding him down.

You saw a flash simmer as you saw Bucky’s hand move, holding the other man to the sidewalk. Metal? Did he have a prosthetic arm? When did that happen? And why didn’t you ever notice it before?

In the mixture of bystanders, paparazzi, and doormen, the police quickly pushed through. Bucky was relieved of his post as the man was taken away. The policeman escorted the two of you to the lobby, where he took the information and returned your purse to you.

Eventually, Bucky took you upstairs to your floor. “Are you okay,” he asked, following you through the door.

You nodded, turning around to face him – face his arm. You stared at it, the metal coils formed in the shape of a perfect hand, winding upwards all the way up to where his shirt sleeve was pushed up past his elbow. It shimmered in the soft lighting, reflecting the moonlight that cascaded in through your windows. He held his hands behind his back, tilting his jaw upwards slightly as he stared you down. Your eyes flitted to his narrow ones; his eyebrows narrowed between pieces of dark hair that fell over his forehead. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Yes,” you clarified, clearing your throat.

“Do you need me to stay with you? Or are you fine for the night?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, shifting your weight from one foot to another. “Stay?” It came out more of a question than you expected. He nodded, not moving any other muscle. You quickly thought of something to break the silence and pulled your phone from your bag. “Takeout?”

He cracked a smile, nodding again. “Sounds good.”

After calling it in, you shifted away to the kitchen as Bucky sat in the living room. You didn’t know what to do to fill the silence. You’d never talked to him. You fumbled around with a wine bottle, popping it open and taking a long pull straight from the bottle before heading towards Bucky with two glasses. Hopefully some liquid courage would kick in quickly. You poured him a glass, another for yourself, and sat beside him on the plush sofa.

It was quiet. It was awkward.

“Thank you for, y’know,” you murmured over the rim of your wine glass, eyes falling to the red liquid swirling in your glass.

“No problem, it’s my job,” he replied casually. “To protect you.” You nodded; lips pressed tight in a line. You looked around the room, trying to find anything to look at. Your gaze landed on the metal arm propped up on the side of the couch. “You wanna take a picture of it, doll?” He chuckles lightly, tapping his fingers on the fabric of the sofa.

“Oh!” You snapped out of your gaze, jumping slightly on the couch. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to stare, I just – just – ” you stuttered over your words, reaching out slightly towards him.

He smiled, genuinely smiled this time, tongue running over his bottom lip. “It’s okay, (Y/N) – ” your name sounded so good on his lips “ – you can touch it, if you want.” Touch it? Touch what? You nearly started salivating. Then he held his hand out to you, palm facing upwards, fingers outstretched. You held your hand out, brushing his metal palm with the tips of your fingers. He chuckled again, flipping your hand around and holding your own hand in his. He ran his metal fingers over the backs of your knuckles. It was cold, yet so much softer than you expected.

Your eyes flitted up to meet his blue ones, already staring back at you. He licked his lips and leaned ever so slightly towards you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as you stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. “See, that’s not so bad, right?” He whispered, gaze shifting from your eyes to your lips, tinged red from the wine.

You held your breath, leaning the rest of the way in, shutting your eyes.

Then you hit a brick wall.

A metal wall.

Your eyes snap open to see Bucky’s metal hand gripping your shoulder, holding you in place. “Look, (Y/N) – ” there he goes with your name, again “ – I didn’t mean to send any signals…” he trailed off, dropping his hand and pushing himself up to his feet. Signals? No, of course not. Just holding my hand, staring lustfully into my eyes, and looking at my lips. Not to mention licking his own. You almost rolled your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

You did roll your eyes, standing with him. “It’s…” you trailed off. Save face. “Whatever.” You turned away, shuffling to the front door, pulling it open.

He left without another word, but not without stopping to look into your eyes – at least, he tried to, if it hadn’t been for you dropping your whole head, staring blankly at the floor. You slammed the door behind him, nearly nicking his back heel as he stepped into the corridor.

Well, that was perfectly embarrassing. The best way to end such a terrible day. Utter embarrassment. You didn’t know how you were supposed to face him tomorrow.

Sadness turned into anger as you threw his wine glass directly into the sink, watching as the glass shards flew across the countertops. Who did he think he was? That he could act like that and then throw it back in your face? His signals were perfectly clear. In fact, you were haunted by those signals all night.

By the touch of his skin.

By his blue eyes.

…

You didn’t sleep that night. Instead, spent your time getting ready all morning. Hair perfectly set down your back, eyes surrounded by sultry makeup, a ferocious looking contour. You put on your tallest heels, tightest dress, and shiniest jewelry.

You looked ravenous.

Bucky knocked on your front door, as he did every morning to take you to work. You slung your bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and swung open the door. You looked straight past him; eyes directed on the elevator doors in front of you. You walked directly past him, relying on him to shut the door behind you.

Your heart was racing, it took all of your willpower not to twitch or tap your foot as you waited for the elevator. You set your jaw and stood stonewalled.

That’s how the day went: you completely ignoring Bucky. Although you normally ignored Bucky, today you didn’t look at him, thank him when he opened the door for you, nothing. Not even sparing a glance as he stared at you from his position on the sofa in your office. There he sat, usually splayed out and legs open; you could feel him staring at you. All you wanted to do was run into the women’s bathroom and sit there all day – anywhere would be better than here with him.

That’s how the weekend went, too: you spent the first six days ignoring him. Today was Saturday and you wanted to go shopping. Not the normal shopping. Today was all about showing Bucky that if you wanted something, you got it.

Again sporting the skimpiest outfit you could manage, you dragged Bucky around shopping all day. By your fifth store, your feet were absolutely killing you from walking so far in these heels, but it was worth it to torture Bucky. He carried all of your bags – from your purse, to you shopping bags, to even your coat. And nothing pissed him off more than you waiting at the register, the person behind the counter ringing up your literal tens-of-thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes, shoes, and bags, clicking your tongue and holding your hand out for your wallet. You tapped your foot, continuing your light conversation with the employee, waiting for Bucky to drop the heavy wallet into your palm. Without a turn of your head or even a thank you, you finished the transaction, walking through the door immediately, leaving Bucky to take your purchases.

This is what he deserved after embarrassing you like that. Was he just so nice to see where you’d take it? Did he want you to try to kiss him, just so he could say no? Just so he could turn you down? To be the one guy you wanted – and never got? Maybe he was going to sell the story. He was just like any other guy – but then why wouldn’t he kiss you? And the thought replayed in your mind, as did that night’s events. You had no other choice but to continue shopping and dragging him around.

Oh, he was pissed.

A fucking bagman? That’s how you saw him? That night was probably the calmest he’d ever seen you. You seemed nervous, even. Nervous because of his arm? Yes, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have you in the palm of his hand – literally – he would’ve loved to kiss you, and touch you, and hold you. He couldn’t take advantage of you like that. Not in your most vulnerable moment. After the robbery, you mind must’ve been scrambled. He wasn’t sure if that was your way of thanking him. He wasn’t about to let you throw yourself on him – who knows how you would’ve felt the next day.

But that’s not how you saw it, and you weren’t about to let him explain.

And this show you were putting on for him? He wasn’t dumb; he would’ve had to be oblivious to not know you were showing off for him. These skimpy outfits and tight dresses, necklaces that ended just at the top of your cleavage, skirts that ended just at the curve of your ass – he loved every minute of it. But he wanted you out of it at the same time.

You were treating him like shit, which he didn’t enjoy. He could’ve stopped by now: dropped all your shit and walked right out of the store. Instead, he clenched his jaw, bit his tongue, and followed you around the block, holding your bags; the only saving grace was getting to walk behind you and stare at your shaking ass all day.

…

You pushed the apartment door open, barely holding it open long enough for Bucky to slip through, carrying bags lined up his arms. You heard the crinkling of some of the paper bags as the door shut on him. He took one step in, letting the door fall shut, then dropped everything to the floor nicely.

“No,” you said, not looking up from your cell phone. You pointed a finer across the room. “Bedroom.”

A sharp laughed cracked through the silence. You almost flinched, starting at Bucky cackling loudly at you. “That’s not my job.”

You stared at him, narrowing your eyes in challenge. “Excuse me?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, shit-eating-grin unfaltering. “You heard me, princess.”

You didn’t move. Instead, you took a step backwards as he approached you. He walked towards you until you were backed up against the kitchen counter. You mimicked his arms, crossing them over your own chest, inadvertently pushing your cleavage up – which you noticed when you saw his eyes flit down for the tiniest second before returning to your own eyes, a tinge of pink lacing his cheeks – not that he cared. “Don’t fucking call me that,” you spat, tilting your chin up. You were not intimidated by him.

He got so close that your pelvises were nearly touching. He leaned down, dropping his hands to the countertop on either side of you, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear as he bent closer. “What do you want me to call you, baby?”

God, you looked so real in that moment. Caught off guard, maybe. But your usual forced scowl was replaced by your surprised expression, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar, tongue tucked right where your two plump lips meet. You were holding your breath, he could tell. He liked you like this, better. When you weren’t trying to be all hard and intimidating, when you didn’t know how to react – couldn’t deal with these emotions because just this once, they were real.

You stumbled over your words, mind suddenly not processing anything. His stubble rubbed ever so lightly over your jaw, his breath tickling your neck. You didn’t know how long you were standing there. It felt like forever since either of you said anything.

Suddenly, he pulled away – just like before. You released your breath, about to speak and then –

He grabbed your face in both hands (one warm to the touch, the other cold from the marble) and held you so that you eyes gazed up at him. His blue eyes looking back into yours, a smile pulling at one corner of his lips. He pulled your head upwards, leaning his own down, meeting in the middle in a soft, tender kiss. He shrugged, letting himself fully tilt into the kiss, hips touching each other’s; you swung your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to him, chest pressing against his.

God, you could get used to this.

And all it took was a little shopping.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bodyguard #bodyguard!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #captain america #request #bucky x you

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gyll-yee-haw · 4 years ago

Note

Would you be up for some Lou Bloom/reader smut? Reader as a new intern for his company and he overhears she has a crush on him, so he starts fixating on her and eventually invites her to his place. She’s more on the innocent side, but Lou hopes she’s a fast learner.

HI BABY OMG I’M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK A MILLION YEARS (but I made it extra long so you forgive me, hope you’re still around!)

Alright, I should give you a few warnings, cause this got a bit out of control, and you know Louis, this just can’t be cute, so here we go: this is a bit dark and dubcon on the start? A little bit of innocence and breeding kink (hope I didn’t go too far from what you wanted lol)

So, anyways, if you’re not into this stuff, please don’t read, I didn’t waste time writing those warnings for nothing...

---

Imagine that one day, on a break, you were sitting with a group of co-workers, and they started talking about your boss

"I'm kinda scared of him, tbh" one of them said, and almost everyone agreed

Not you, though… cause you had this ability of seeing good in everyone

"I don't think he's scary." You said. "He's absolutely the best on what he does. And I'm honored to work for him."

Your co-workers didn't care much, they knew you

Louis, who was listening to all of that conversation through the door, on the other hand…

He started paying a little more attention to you

Watching your every move while you worked, and giving you tips he didn't give to the others

Everyone noticed how he was growing closer to you

Everyone noticed how he got unnecessarily close to you as he helped you with the camera, or how he looked at your entire body and didn't even try to hide it

And one of your friends tried to warn you. She told you to quit the job immediately, before he did something to you

But you told her: "No. I like the special attention Mr. Bloom gives me."

One more time, he heard everything. And a shiver ran down his spine when those words left your mouth

He didn't waste his time, and on the exact same day he invited you to his apartment, so he could teach you about editing the videos and stuff

You were BEYOND excited

Hours later, you knocked on his door wearing a cute little dress

Cause he specifically asked you to look pretty for him

He told you to come in and sit on the couch

He sat beside you and placed his computer in front of you

Images from a car crash your team filmed a few days before were playing

You were paying attention, but he didn't look at the screen for a second, his eyes were glued to your face

But when you dared to look back at him, he said: "Keep your eyes on the screen. How will you learn like that?"

"Sorry, Sir." You said before doing exactly what he said.

You could see on the corner of your eyes that his hand was approaching your face, but you wouldn't dare to look

Soon, you felt his long fingers caressing your cheek, and you couldn't help but smile (eyes on the screen the entire time, of course)

"Why are you smiling?" He asked. "Do you like it when I touch you?"

"I do." You told him.

"Take your clothes off." He said emotionless.

"What? Why?" You frowned, eyes glued to the scene that showed the police arriving.

“Why do you think I invited you?” He asked. “If it was anything work related, why would it be at my apartment?”

I mean... you were innocent, but you weren’t stupid. You noticed how he had been looking at you lately

You just didn’t expect him to go straight to the point like that

He didn’t give you much time to think, and closed the laptop in front of you, saying: “Look at me now.”

You turned to him with wide eyes, looking a little bit nervous

He’s a lonely guy, but a good observant. He knew he would have to relax you a bit before he could get you to completely submit to him

“I’ll tell you why I invited you.” He started caressing your cheek again. “You seem like a very good girl. Very efficient at work. Doesn’t talk shit about me behind my back like the others do, am I right?”

“No, Sir... I would never...”

“I know.” He cut you. “Bold of them to assume there’s anything happening in that company that I don’t know. I heard you saying that you liked my special attention.”

You blushed furiously and looked down

“That’s nothing to be shy about. That pleases me, in fact.” He told you, lifting your chin so you would look at him again. “Now, little girl. If you take your clothes off, I’m gonna give you some kind of attention you’ve never received before. Wouldn’t you like that?”

You thought for a second. It was incredible how much he was turning you on with that little game

So you nodded

He sat back on the couch and just waited

You stood up in front of him and removed your dress, still a little hesitant

He didn’t move or say a word of encouragement

So you left your bra fall on the floor between you and him

He leaned forward and you froze

He placed one of his warm, big hands on each of your breasts and started to play with them

It felt really good and it didn’t take long for you to want more. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted those hands all over your body

You were so into it, but suddenly you felt him pinching one of your nipples and you gasped, taking a step back

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” He whispered. “Come back here.”

You got back to your previous position and he placed a small kiss on the nipple that hurted

His mouth at such a sensitive spot turned you on more than you could describe

“I was just testing your limits.” He told you. “I know you’re not ready for all I want to do with you, but you will learn to enjoy the pain with time. I hope you learn it as fast as you learn at work. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I want to learn everything from you, Sir.” You pressed your thighs together and he noticed that you needed him just as bad as he needed you.

“Very good girl, as I suspected.” He chuckled. That was probably the first time in your life you saw him genuinely smiling. “Take your panties off, honey, you must learn your first lesson as quick as possible.”

You didn’t waste a second, and followed every word he said

While you did that, he took his shirt off and unzipped his pants, starting to stroke his length over his underwear

You almost drooled at how beautiful that scene was

He could see you growing eager, and added ‘patience’ to the list of things he still had to teach you. Not that night, though, he was too horny for that

He freed his cock and stroked it in front of you

God, it was so big

So fucking beautiful

“Come here, little girl.” He told you, patting his lap.

You sat on his lap, facing him, his cock inches away from you, and that kind of intimacy from someone you used to only admire from far was so exciting

“First thing you have to learn is to take my cock like a big girl. Take everything I give you and don’t you dare complaining.” He said, and at your state, you would agree with absolutely any condition. “You can cum as many times as you want, but so do I, and I get to choose where. Whatever the consequences may be, do you understand what I’m talking about?”

You nodded, and whispered: “Babies.”

“That’s right, fuck.” His cock throbbed on his hand when you said that in such an innocent voice. “If you stick around long enough, learn your lessons and I don’t get bored of you... it may happen. And you will look so pretty when it does.”

“I will be good to you.” You promised.

“I know, baby.” He pulled you closer, placing his cock on your entrance. “You accepted my conditions, so you are mine now.”

“Yes, Sir.” Was the last thing you could say before he entered you.

That man absolutely wrecked you after that. Fucked you until you were dumb

And you obviously took all of it, you wouldn’t give up, you were only getting started

I mean... who knows how many lessons there were, but you were eager to learn

Maybe it was because of the intensity of that moment, but suddenly, you didn’t simply admire him, you were in love with him, and that was terrifying

But as long as you were good to him, he would keep you around.

#louis bloom #louis bloom smut #louis bloom x reader #Lou Bloom #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal smut #lou bloom smut #lou bloom x reader

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sorcererinthestars · 4 years ago

Text

That Which Lurks in the Dark [FAHC]

My contribution to the @rtwritingcommunity‘s Secret Santa fic exchange. I love this exchange because it forces me to write and this year, I got a delight because I got to write something for one of my very best friends, @shadeofazmeinya! I hope you enjoy, my love! <3

Everyone else, enjoy as well.

WC: 4583 Summary: Sent out to Boston in the middle of the winter to make relations with a new gun-running squad, the Lads don't realize how badly this could go. Furious, bleeding, and cold, they take shelter in a shitty motel room and are forced to confront the reason they're in this mess... and the feelings that lurk in their hearts.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28073598

It was that kind of storm that stole breath away, tore the sight from your eyes and made you weep with the fear of it. The storm howled around their little car, made every mile treacherous and dangerous, the potential of it stopping seemed to diminish with every passing second.

Inside the car it was no less dangerous. Three men sat hunched and breathless, trying to flee where they came from and yet make it to their destination unharmed. While they were out of the storm, the atmosphere inside the car was tense, able to be cut with a knife.

Michael, in the back, is bleeding. It slips crimson red down his side, across his pants, and stains the car seat. There’s no way they could return this rental — yet another thing Gavin had to deal with when they got somewhere safe. But the road almost unpassable now, not yet plowed, and the wind continued to howl its rage into the skies around them.

Gavin shifts, gritting his teeth as he tries his best to keep his hands on Michael’s wound. “How’re you doing, boi?”

The resulting wince is enough of an answer, but Michael wasn’t one to stay silent. He huffs an angry grumble. “Fine,” he snorts. Obviously untrue, but what was he supposed to do? The blood flow was thankfully stopping, but stab wounds needed treatment — none he was going to get here. “Or, fine enough.”

“We need to fuckin’ get back to the hotel,” Jeremy growls. His whole body is fixated on the road and not on the two men in the back seat. “If you had just listened to me…”

“Don’t fucking start!” Michael snaps back, his fury igniting like a piece of ripcord. If Gavin hadn’t quickly ducked out of the way, he would have been clipped by Michael’s head as the man straightens up quickly to throw his words at Jeremy like missiles. “Don’t you dare.”

“I knew it was a trap from the moment we walked in!” Jeremy hisses. “But no, you said we still had to go like you’re the fuckin’ leader or something…”

“I AM the fucking leader of the Lads!” Michael shoots back before Gavin wrestles him back down. “Boys, boys, you’re both pretty!” he snaps. “But Michael, you’re gonna bleed out if you continue to fight like this. Sit back, damn it. And Jeremy, you’re gonna crash the damn car. We need to find a place to stop.”

Stop? Jeremy turns to look at him owlishly before having to skid to avoid an ice patch in the center of the road. “This is Boston,” he retorts. “It’s what it’s like in the winter.”

“Doesn’t stop us from havin’ a half-dead guy in the back,” Gavin shoots back. “We need to stop and deal with Michael’s wounds. And look at it! You can’t see.”

It was true. The wind was just getting worse, threatening to toss the car off the road. A full out blizzard. They would need to ditch off for fear of losing everything in a crash. The money in the back seat wasn’t remotely how much they were supposed to get, but it was something, and Geoff would be upset if it didn’t make it home.

Not to mention, probably upset if three of his best crewmates didn’t return home either. Jeremy sighs. “Fine. Google a hotel or a motel closer to here then. Somewhere that won’t ask a lot of questions if we stain shit red with Michael’s blood.”

Gavin nods, pushing Michael’s hand over so he would keep pressure on his own wound. The other shifts, leaning against the car door and pressing firmly down on the stab wound. It wasn’t critical - they wouldn’t have made it out of that damn warehouse if it was. But it was fucking painful as hell and would need stitches for sure. Michael wasn’t quite looking forward to that procedure.

With hands covered in blood, Gavin pokes at his phone, grimacing at the stains that get all over the screen. “Looks like there’s a ... Motel 6 about ten...ten-ish miles down the road. Take the next right.”

Jeremy does, the car skittering and causing them all to grab on tight with shouts of alarm. “Sorry, sorry...,” Jeremy mutters, focusing again on the road and getting traction. He had forgotten how to drive in the snow after so long away.

Michael grunts under his breath and with Gavin’s directions and Jeremy’s partially safe driving, they manage to navigate towards the motel. Its lights barely puncture the maelstrom, providing a somewhat sickly flush of yellow light against the howling winds. But it’s shelter and warmth and a bed, and right now that’s all they need.

Pulling in, Jeremy takes stock of the situation. He’s probably the least bloody of the three of them, just a few stains on his jacket that he wipes off with the back of his hand. “Look. I’m gonna go in and see if I can get a fuckin’ room or two for us. You just... wait here.”

Michael glares at him from the back seat. “Like I’m g-gonna go anywhere,” he winces sarcastically. Jeremy just grunts. He knows he looks ridiculous in his purple and orange getup, but at least he has a big black parka to throw on over it. He snatches it, shouldering the heavy material, and stomps off towards the main building.

As they watch him disappear into the storm, Michael leans back against the leather. Maybe he shouldn’t be so frustrated - it certainly wasn’t Jeremy’s fault they were stood up and attacked during what should have been a simple gun-running meeting - but the sickening feeling that he failed... failed Geoff, failed them, failed himself... still twists in his stomach.

The assignment was simple. They were meeting some east coast gunrunners who were looking to start making shipments across the USA. These guys were cheap and would be a great addition to the Fake portfolio, so Geoff had Gavin research them and then sent his Lads to Boston. They’d meet with the dealers, Gavin would negotiate a deal, and then they’d fly home with money and deal secured.

But shit went tit’s up, and well...

Gavin knocks Michael out of his train of thought by adjusting his pressure on the wound, sending another wave of pain through Michael’s abdomen. He grunts. “Just ... just climb in the back and get some bandages or some shit,” he says forcefully, shoving on Gavin’s shoulder.

Glancing out the back window, Gavin frowns. “I - uh. It’s ... well, Micoo, it’s snowing, and I don’t really want -”

“Baby,” he shoots back, but before he could make another quip, Jeremy comes stomping back. His nose and ears are bright red and his eyes are shining under the hood, which is caked in snow. He hops back into the car and hovers over the heating vent for a few breathless moments, shivering. “FUCK.”

“Cold?” Michael says dryly. “Never would’ve guessed.”

He shoots him the bird and shakes himself off. “They’ve only got one room left,” he announces. “With a King bed. Which means some of us are sleepin’ on the fucking floor. But there’s heat. And a roof.”

“Good enough,” Gavin says quietly, glancing between the two of them with a somewhat uneasy expression. Jeremy starts the car and with a bit of slipping and sliding in the snow that gathered, they make it to the space outside their hotel room. A deliberate effort between all three of them manages to get Michael out of the car, Gavin gagging a bit at the bloodstain on the seat. They hobble Michael to the door and Gavin stands, shivering and supporting Michael’s dead weight as Jeremy fumbles with the lock.

The door opens with a whoosh of warm air and they stagger inside, frantically throwing the door shut behind them with finality. It’s a basic motel room, certainly nothing fancy, but thankfully warm and clean enough. Michael sags onto the bed, holding his side with a grunt. “...ugh.”

“Ugh indeed,” Jeremy shoots back. “Gav, can you stay with him? I’m going to unload the car.” He adjusts his parka. “See if you can get some hot water going, we’re all gonna need a shower.”

The room turns into a flurry of activity with Michael as an oasis of calm. Jeremy drags their few things inside - a black duffel bag full of cash, a few guns, and that’s it. All their clothes and supplies are back in the five-star hotel they had booked, a twenty-five minute drive back into the city. It may as well be sixty miles, based on how fast they could drive and as much as they could see.

Gavin, in the bathroom, fiddles with the old pipes. He cranks the hot water on as high as it would go and waits, hearing the rattle and hiss as the pipes pull the water and tries to heat it. The first blast is ice cold, sending him skittering away like a kicked puppy as he almost gets a blast of the artic against his already cold skin. The pipes rattle and groan and the water turns very slightly less miserable.

He frowns at it and leaves the bathroom. “...gonna take a while,” he announces, “if it ever gets there at all.” Then he immediately gags and almost runs back into the bathroom to vom, as Jeremy has Michael’s shirt off and is probing the wound that weeps miserably down his side.

“I can do it,” Michael grits. “I’ve dressed my own wounds before.”

“Alone, in the middle of a heist, maybe - and I’ve seen the results of your self-stitching in all the bubbled scars on your skin,” Jeremy retorts. “Just shut up and let me help you, you whiny baby.”

Michael squeezes his eyes closed as Jeremy probes the edges of the wound before digging into his first aid kit. Thankfully, they had brought it along, figuring their meeting may involve a bit of a scuffle but never realizing it would devolve as much as it had. Controlling his stomach as best he could, Gavin pads over to sit next to Michael and watch owlishly as Jeremy starts doing what he can for the wound.

First he cleans it with strong antiseptic, to the point where Michael has to bite on the side of his sweatshirt to stop from howling and alerting all their neighbors to something nefarious going on in the next room. Then he sterilizes a needle as best he can and lays Michael back.

“No fuckin’ booze?” he grunts. “Just going to have you stitch me up stone cold sober?”

“This kind of place doesn’t have a fuckin’ minibar,” Jeremy retorts. “Just shut up and let me do this.”

Gavin elects to go check on the water as Jeremy works to clean and stitch Michael up. Despite the apparent frustration between the two, Jeremy’s stitches are neat and clean and as painless as he can make them. At least until Michael mutters a rude comment under his breath, making Jeremy tug the sutures harder than necessary. Michael gasps in agony. “Bitch!”

“Don’t be a dick when someone’s got a needle in your flesh,” Jeremy retorts calmly, tying off the string. He cleans the wound again and wraps it in clean, bright white bandages. “There. You won’t die.”

“Glad for that,” Michael says stiffly, moving so he could kind of lean against the top of the bed. Jeremy glances over to the shower when Gavin pops back out. “So...,” he says hesitantly. “There’s - uh. Really no hot water.”

Jeremy groans and goes to put his face in his hands but stops when he sees the blood all over them. Gavin weakly tries to smile. “Enough for a quick one?” he says hesitantly and then squawks as Jeremy shoulders him aside to claim the stall. He tries to close the door but Gavin shoves his arm in the way to block it.

“.... we’re both covered in sweat and blood,” he retorts. “Just share, yeah? I won’t look if you won’t.”

Both try to ignore the blooming red on their cheeks, but it’s kind of a hard thing. But what is Jeremy going to say? Neither of them could bathe in ice cold water, not tonight when it was only nominally warmer inside than it was outside. They’d get sick. And they needed enough hot water to bring Michael a cloth to sponge himself off. So reluctantly - with Michael making joking noises in the other room - Jeremy opens the door for Gavin to follow.

They undress quietly, trying not to look. It’s hard not to. Jeremy’s eyes keep flicking to Gavin’s long, lithe figure. He’s got scars, they all do, but they seem to work on him more than they do on the two brawlers. They’re smooth and slight white lines instead of bubbled, dark little things. Gavin’s skin is still tanned despite the winter cold and he’s got hair all over. Tasteful hair, though. Hair Jeremy really has to stop himself from wanting to run his hands through.

For fuck’s sake, J. Get yourself together. He frantically tears his eyes away and focuses on trying not to be caught looking. It had been a stressful night, he just was aching for a quick tug that he would have got if Gav wasn’t sharing the fucking shower with him. He just had to focus solely on not giving himself away with any ... unsavory uncontrollable actions in his nether regions.

For Gavin, he hadn’t ever really hid his attraction in Jeremy and tonight was no different. He gazes long at Jeremy’s back and the curve where it swelled into his ass. But he was too cold and tired to dwell on his thoughts for too long, instead jumping under the lukewarm spray and huddling there until Jeremy viciously shoves him out of the way.

They wrestle for the prime spot under the water for a bit before starting to focus on cleaning themselves off. Thankfully the stall was big enough that they weren’t chest to chest - this would be impossible otherwise. They dance around each other enough to get all the grime and blood and sweat off. Jeremy even offers to clean Gavin’s back of anything he can’t reach.

“.... are you and Michael gonna bitch at each other all night?” Gavin asks reluctantly as they shut the water off and climb out, starting to towel down and change back into the only clothes they got. Jeremy elects to stay in his boxers and throws his ruined bloodstained pants into the tub to try to wash them out. He shrugs a bit. “Guy’s an ass.”

“You know he’s not. You know he’s just scared.” Gavin shifts, glancing over at Jeremy where he’s pulling his tshirt back on, grimacing at how dirty it feels on his clean form. “He got stabbed to save you, y’know.”

Jeremy jerks a bit, straightening quickly. “I know,” he shoots back. “But if he had listened to me, we would never have be --”

“Are you two fuckin’ done in there? I gotta pee!” Michael slams his hand on the door and Jeremy frantically opens it to find Michael holding himself up against the wall sluggishly, having hauled his own ass off the bed and hobbled over to the bathroom.

Jeremy sighs and helps Michael to the toilet, where he braces himself on the side of the sink and gives Jeremy a baleful look. “I can do this part myself, thanks,” he says coldly, and Jeremy holds up his hands. “Fine, fine. We’ll let you pee. If it’s bloody let me know.”

They clamber out of the bathroom and Jeremy and Gavin are left considering the big elephant - or rather, bed - in the room. One bed. Three angry men. Jeremy runs an exasperated hand over his face. “I - who’s taking the floor?”

“I can,” Michael says, opening the door and hobbling forward. “You dicks can take the bed.”

“No way,” Jeremy retorts. “You’re still bleeding. You take the bed, I don’t want to risk anything getting worse. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Can’t we all just share the bed?” Gavin asks with a raised eyebrow. “It’s a King. There’s more than enough room if we squish.”

Jeremy glances over at Michael, who groans and throws his hands up in the air as best he can without toppling over. “I don’t -”

“I’ll just take the floor then,” Gavin shoots back. “You two work out your issues.” They can all hear the exasperation in his voice as he grabs a pillow and one of the spare blankets out of the cabinet and makes a small nest on the floor. “Go to bed,” he snaps. “It’s late.”

Jeremy stands a bit dumbfounded, staring owlishly at the now pile of Gavin that was laying among the blanket on the ground. “I - Gav...”

“Just fucking stop being kids!” he snaps. “Michael, you should have listened to Jeremy when he said it’s probably a trap. Jeremy, you should have left your gun inside because that’s what tipped them off and made them start shooting. But me!” Gavin’s face contorts and he sits up a bit. “Me? I should have fucking researched this team a bit more and saw a setup when one was right in front of me. But I didn’t! None of us did. But we’re alive and for the moment safe, so can you stop being such mongs and just drop it?!”

Michael’s mouth had sort of ... dropped open. Gavin normally didn’t give such impassioned speeches, particularly ones that ended with him curling back up with his back to them on the floor in a somewhat dirty looking fleece blanket. His eyes flick to Jeremy, who is looking back at him.

“I’m sor--”

“Michael, I - “

They blink. Michael turns a bit red. “Look, I should’ve listened to you, okay...”

“No,” Jeremy shoots back. “I never should have brought my gun. If you didn’t shove me out of the way, that knife that guy threw probably would have blinded me, or worse. So uh.... thanks.”

Michael nods a bit. “I - yeah. Come on. If Gav is so comfortable on the floor with all the jizz or whatever the fuck else is down there on that shit carpet, you can take the spot next to me.” He pats the bed and, chuckling slightly, Jeremy climbs in. Gavin, meanwhile, squawks a bit at the thought and shifts, grumbling. “Micoo, why’d you have to remind me....?!”

Before he could reply, there’s a big snapping sound, what sounds like a mini explosion which makes them all jump partially to their feet, and the room plunges into darkness. And cold. “.... shit,” Michael retorts, holding his side and easing back down with a pained gasp. “Transformer blew. No power.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as the cool air starts winning the battle against the now useless heating system. They wouldn’t freeze to death in their sheltered room, but it was going to get a lot colder. Gavin whimpers a bit and pulls his blanket closer to him as Michael adjusts and pulls the covers up and over him and Jeremy.

“....guys?” Gavin’s voice is small. “I ... I know I just yelled at you, but... it’s cold...”

“Oh, get up here,” Michael sighs. Jeremy nods and moves to make a small warm place for Gavin to slip into. He leaps to his feet and clambers over Jeremy to nuzzle between the two of them, dragging his blanket over them all.

For a moment, they just lay there, squished into one bed and breathing into the cool, dark room. Under the covers, Gavin shivers a bit and his hand finds Jeremy’s, latching onto it. Surprisingly, Jeremy squeezes it and holds it close.

“...you guys okay now?” Gavin asks softly. A beat and then two communal noises of affirmation from the other two boys. Michael moves a bit to get himself upright, hissing in pain, but pulls Gavin a bit closer to him. There’s something a bit possessive in the gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he says to the room, to the faces he can’t really see. “I - I almost lost you both because... because of my stupid fuckin’ decision and I...”

“Micoo,” Gavin purrs a bit, stroking his face with a blundering hand, as he could just see shadows and shapes in the dark room. But Michael’s eyes still close at the caress, loving the touch of Gavin’s hand against his skin.

“Me too,” Jeremy admits, turning. His eyes glint in the bit of light they had through the window and Michael meets his eyes. The silent apology is obvious. He snuggles closer to Gavin and they all hunch a bit tighter. More for skin contact and touch than for warmth.

Gavin’s the one, in the end, that starts it. He squirms a bit, sandwiched between the two, and holds them close - his two burly boys. One hand drifts a bit too far over and brushes against Jeremy’s crotch. Clothed in only his boxers, Jeremy gasps and shivers at the sensation, unable to stop himself.

No one can see the smirk that arrives on Gavin’s face, but he turns and Jeremy knows the expression despite not being able to see it. “Just sleep, Gav,” he retorts, a bit strained, but no chance now. “Michael... Jeremy likes being in the bed with us, Michael.”

“Shut up, Gav.”

“I think he’s just being grumpy because he secretly loves us and doesn’t like it when we all fight,” Gavin whispers conspiratorially, playfully, to Michael, who chuckles. “Don’t tease him, Gav.”

He grins down at Jeremy, squirming closer to him, but doesn’t realize when a spark kind of ... ignites behind Jeremy’s eyes. He grabs him and yanks him closer, so Gavin’s kind of on top of him and looks down at him breathlessly. “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?”

Gavin giggles a bit. “Mm. Maybe. You’re just a very pretty boy, Jeremy.” He just likes to see the smile on Jeremy’s face, despite the fact that it was almost too dark to see. Michael next to them just watches with an amused look ... that turns into shock as Jeremy yanks Gavin down and seals their lips together.

If Michael was shocked, that was nothing like what Gavin felt. He tugs back for half a second in surprise and Jeremy immediately goes to let him go before he’s surging back down to kiss him deeper. Gavin had wanted this from the very first time Jeremy appeared on the doorsteps to the Fakes, a bag in one hand and a gun in the other, demanding a job.

“Shit,” Michael grins, face red. He wants to turn more but can’t, gasping again in pain. “Don’t... ah! Don’t leave me out of the fun.”

Two heads pop up, just shadows. “You?” Gavin says brightly. “Michael?” Jeremy whispers. “Are - I mean... we just...”

“You don’t think I take a stab wound for just anyone, do you?” Michael says dryly. “Now give me kisses, you dicks, before I have to demand more. I’m currently the invalid, you have to help me feel better you know.”

Gavin’s squeal of pleasure is all he needs, clambering as safely as he can over Michael so they could get the man comfortably between them. Gavin’s lips are very soft. Michael had always imagined them to be so, but it was one thing to use his imagination and another thing to taste them for himself. He tries to pull Gavin closer, but the move hurts and he gasps into the kiss making Gavin pull back.

As soon as he does so, Jeremy is stealing a kiss. It’s rougher than Gavin’s. As if Jeremy’s trying to apologize or make him apologize through a simple kiss. Michael does what he can to push back into it without much control of his ab muscles, meeting rough lips with rough lips.

What he doesn’t expect is Gavin’s hands on his hips. Wrapping around him and jerking. Michael’s eyes fly open with surprise and he jolts, pain and pleasure combining in a spasm. “Jesus, Gavin!”

“No good?” Gavin says quickly, retracting his hand. “I thought - it’s been a stressful night and Jeremy... and you.... “

“No, no, no...,” Michael gasps against Jeremy’s lips before he pulls away. “Very good. Very good. Just - are you sure you...”

“Before we go down this road too much, I need to remind you two that Michael fucking has a hole in his side,” Jeremy cuts in. “Nothing too crazy, please.” But he says it so easily and its so dark Michael can’t really see faces but there’s just such quiet longing in Gavin’s tone, in Jeremy’s, that he can just fall back on the bed and gasp a bit. “We’re idiots.”

“Hmm?” Jeremy asks, chuckling. “How so?”

“Yelling at each other when we were worried instead of doing this,” Michael mutters. “This is much more fun.”

Jeremy laughs. “Sure is.” Then he bends back down to kiss Michael again as Gavin kisses above his wound and gently runs his hand up and down Michael’s length.

In the end, it doesn’t take long before Michael is bucking into Gavin’s hand and gasping. Jeremy and Gavin follow him through to the end and curl up next to him, pressing kisses on both cheeks. Michael closes his eyes, a sleepy breathless mess, pain still intense but more manageable with two warm bodies next to him.

They may be lost in a hotel room in the middle of nowhere, hundreds of thousands of miles from home. They may have no power and not be able to see each other’s faces, and maybe thats’ why things escalated the way that it did. Maybe. But all Michael can think about now was that he had his Lads in his arms. And they were safe, at the end of the day, despite all the fear he held that made him lash out.

He’s hurt, but they’re with him. And they’ll stay with him until the bitter end.

And that’s all he needs.

#fahc #ragehappy #jeremavin #rt community secret santa #my writing #a gift for shade!#OH NO THERE'S ONLY ONE BED!

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strawberrywritings · 4 years ago

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Meeting.

A/N: When I saw the prompt (find it here), my mind went straight to Angel. Here we are. I also haven’t written for him in a while, and I haven’t written in a while in general, really hope this doesn’t suck🙈

/ Masterlist

Summary: Angel + cheesy pick up lines.

Your eyes were fixated on your phone screen. Every number you had dialled had gone to voicemail or was busy, and there was only one left: Romero Brothers Scrap. You crossed your fingers, moving to rest your weight against your broken down car, and dialled the number.

It rang three times before someone answered.

“Romero Brothers Scrapyard, how can I help you?”

“Hi, uhm… my car’s broken, I have no idea what’s wrong with it. Could you come and take it?”

“Sure. Where are you?”.

Half an hour later, you saw the tow truck come into view and sighed, finally. The driver parked the truck in front of your car, then got down from the vehicle: he was tall, tan skin, tattooed.

“Thank you so much for coming”, you said and he nodded, “No problem”. He stuck his had out and you shook it. “I’m Angel”, his smile was cocky and beautiful. You replied and gave him your name.

He took a look at the car and then told you that it would take at least a few days to fix it, nothing too bad, though. He explained the procedure of what was going to happen once at the scrapyard, you had to sign documents and paperwork for the car. You two got on the truck and he started to drive back to Santo Padre. You two made small talk for a few minutes, him always giving you that smile of his that made you feel hot (and it wasn’t the weather).

As soon as you saw him change direction of the truck, you turned to him, “What are you doing?”. “I’m saving you from sitting in traffic, it’s terrible at this hour”. You made an appreciative noise and nodded, your stare going to the road again. But after driving around for fifteen minutes, you looked at him with a smile,

“You know, I think I would’ve preferred the traffic to getting lost”, you told him in a mocking tone. He now had his brows knitted together and you giggled. “We’re not lost. I just… don’t remember the road that well”. You laughed and he shook his head, a small smile on his face at the sound of your laugh, which, for a moment, was louder than the music he had put on. You started bopping your head to the rhythm.

“As soon as I get home, I’m gonna complain to Spotify about you not being this week’s hottest single”, he said, his eyes were on you for a second and then he was looking straight ahead again. You smiled and shook your head, “It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pick up line”, you crossed your arms and turned the upper half of your body to watch him.

He wore an incredulous expression, no one had ever rejected him like this; truth be told, Angel rarely ever got rejected. His lips broke into a grin, your eyes locked and he bit his lip. You looked him up and down, taking in the way he was dressed, how he was sitting, and you couldn’t deny he looked damn good.

After ten more minutes, the truck pulled into the scrapyard, Angel helped you down from the vehicle as some employees came to unload your car. You were shown to the office, where you had to fill out some paperwork; Angel had his eyes trained on you, and you looked back at him before entering the small room that was the office. He winked at you, resting his arm against the truck, and you smiled back at him.

When you had signed everything, you got out on and found Angel with his back was against the wall, he was smoking a cigarette.

“Were you waiting for me?”, you said, putting a hand in front of your face to protect your eyes from the bright sun. “Thought you could use a lift home”, he said and you looked at your car, now parked in the parking lot and waiting to be fixed. You agreed and Angel made you climb on his motorcycle, bringing you home.

You got down from the bike and adjusted your clothes, then gave him back his helmet. “Thank you”, your smile was genuine, eyes shining in the sun. He smiled and shook his head, “No problem… sorry ‘bout before, my pick up lines”, it had never occurred to him that not every girl enjoyed it, and he was only saying this because Ez had reprimanded him for his behaviour towards you, who were also a customer, Bishop snickering in the back ground of it all.

“It’s fine, really, it doesn’t matter”, you said and chuckled, looking at him in the eyes and reaching for your keys in your purse. “Thanks again for the ride”, you turned around and started making your way towards your house, while he got back on his motorcycle. “My number’s on the paperwork, by the way”, you winked at him and flashed him a smile, right before opening the door and making your way inside.

He stood there, dumbfounded for a second, not sure he had heard right. When your words actually registered into his brain, he had a proud smile on his face, the smug air he usually had was back on and he drove straight to the scrapyard, shoving Chucky aside to get into the office and get you number as fast as he could.

taglist @scuzmunkie @woahitslucyylu @thickemadame @ifoundmyhappythought @everyhowlmarksthedead @gemini0410 @elcococruz @starrynite7114 @claytoncardenasbabymama @justahopelessssromantic @rebel-without-cause-x @cocotheclown

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #mayans imagine #my writing

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thefantasygirl3 · 4 years ago

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Negaverse stories: You're gonna have a bed time

Genre/warnings: Comedy, Slice of life, Action.

Word count: 5 287

Summary: The Darkwing Ducks are having a bit of a family dispute, with half of the team refusing to sleep at a proper time. An argument breaks out but is quickly interrupted by a villain attack. Now they will have to fight crime with only two heroes on top of their game.

Notes: I decided to continue writing some fun little adventures for my negaverse boys, because I refuse to let this hyper fixation go. I hope it’s a fun little read for you all. Edit: Gonna link my fanfiction.net as well, which might make it easier for some to find my stories.

Night was falling over all of st. Canard as people were already tucked in tight to sleep. Midnight was getting closer and closer. Quackerjack was fast asleep on the couch, snoring and drooling as he laid sprawled out cartoonishly. But as he was snoring loudly, a loud noise suddenly woke him up and he rolled off the couch and face planted on the floor. He let out a low groan and pushed himself up off the ground, his attention directed towards where the noise was heard, which happened to be the workshop. The duck headed over to the door and peeked inside. He saw Megavolt, sitting by the workshop table with the dismantled stereo he had started working on getting fixed earlier that day. Quacks gave away a soft yawn as he entered the room, walking up to the distracted man and stood beside him. "Hey, Sparky. How long have you been working on this?" He asked as he tilted forward to get a peek at his work. Megavolt gave his wrist watch a quick glance before he answered with "since 6 I think". "What?! You've been working for 6 hours?! When were you planning to go to bed?!" He huffed angrily and leaned in close to the rat, making him move away so he could see what he was doing again. He got angry that the stubborn rat just ignored him and kept working. "Sparkyyyy! You can't keep doing this! You need to go to bed at a reasonable hour and actually SLEEP!" He scolded him while he took the tools out of his hands and put them back into his tool box. "Hey! I'm busy, ok!? If I get into the zone, I can't just break my concentration! I need to finish it before I can stop!" He responded frustrated as he tried to take the tool box back, but Quacks moved it out of the way. "No! You need to go to bed! Now!" He demanded and put the tool box on top of his work shelf. "I'm not a kid! You can't make me!" He growled as he walked over and took it back down. "Wanna bet?" Quacks said with an annoyed squint, grabbing a hold of the box as well.

Meanwhile Bushroot was laying in his bed, sleeping soundly. Until he woke up, muttering under his breath "... I'm thirsty". He pushed himself up from his bed and wandered out into the hallway so he could grab a glass of water. That was until he noticed some light escaping the bottom of Liquidator's door. He cocked his head a bit and decided to take a peek inside to see what was going on. Liquidator was sitting by his computer, editing some ad he was tasked to make. Bushroot slipped inside and walked up beside him. "Hey. Bud. What… um… are you doing there?" He asked him softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. The dog turned his head around and gave him a tired smile. "Ah. Hey Reginald. I'm just finishing this ad before I call it a day" He explained as he looked back at the screen to continue his work. "You know it's almost midnight, right?" The plant asked and looked at him curiously. "... oh. Oops" He muttered as he saw the time in the corner of the screen.

Bushroot sighed and crossed his arms, shaking his head and muttering "Oh bud. We've discussed this!". "It was a mistake! I swear!" Liquidator tried to excuse himself as he turned around to the other man. "Liste bud. I know how you feel. You want to make sure it's perfect. You want to impress the rest of the guys so they will respect you. It's a totally legit feeling to have. But overworking yourself and tiring yourself out isn't going to solve anything" he told him as he put his hands on the other's shoulders reassuringly. "But… it needs to be good. I can't send in something bad" the water man replied with a frown. "You won't! You're too self critical. It was good the way it was, doesn't need 10 reworks" Bushroot sighed and gave his shoulder a light pat. Liquidator gave a small smile and muttered "you're right. Maybe I should get some rest". "There we go. Now, save your work and get to bed" the other man said with a grin and watched as his friend started turning off the computer, before he quickly added on "Oh! And I'll be taking the power cord". "WHAT?! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" He suddenly yelled as he turned around to face the still calm plant. "It's just to ensure you don't turn it back on in the middle of the night. And don't use the 'what if I need to start early' excuse. You're the only one who's putting that stress on yourself" he told him off with a stern voice, as if speaking to a kid. But they were then interrupted by a loud sound from downstairs.

The two rushed over to the stairs and saw the other half of the Darkwing Ducks pulling and tugging at a screwdriver. "LET GO OF IT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME SLEEP!" Megavolt yelled as he struggled to pull the tool loose. "Oh yes I can, if I knock you out cold!" Quackerjack replied as he tightened his grip on it. Then the two noticed the other men by the end of the stairs, staring surprised. "... workaholic refuses to sleep?" Bushroot asked with one raised eyebrow. "Overgrown baby throwing a tantrum" The other duck answered as he got distracted enough for Megavolt to take the screwdriver back, making him give the rat a hard glare. "Alright guys. This is getting ridiculous! You two need to get a hold of yourselves and get working on a proper sleep schedule! These sleeping problems are going to affect our work!" He groaned and put a hand to his face, letting out a big sigh. "Yeah. I agree. You guys can't pull more all-nighters. You need-" before Bushroot could finish, a small alarm went off, signalling that something bad was happening in town. The dog and rat grinned and ran over to the couch that would get them to their secret hideout, taking the opportunity to escape the discussion. "Sorry! No time to discuss this! Justice awaits, chuckles!" Megavolt said with a satisfied grin, plopping himself down onto the couch beside Liquidator. The other two just sighed and walked over to sit down with them, pulling the lever that was disguised as a statue which spun the couch and transported the four to their base.

They emerged from a secret entrance, already dawning their hero outfits as they landed stylishly. Megavolt rushed over to the computer and started to tap away at it. "According to the drones, there is a big collection of police around the tool shop. Though on closer inspection, most of the officers have been knocked out cold. And there appears to be some sort of white smoke coming out of the entrance and windows" he informed the others as he tapped away at the keyboard. "I think those are clouds" Bushroot added as he walked over to get a better look. "Aha! That's it! This must be the work of King Dreamland! He's putting all those cops and security to sleep so he can rob the store undisturbed!" Quackerjack announced as he pointed at the light, soft looking clouds, already rushing towards the van so they could get going to stop the crazed criminal. Liquidator let out a yawn and dragged himself over to the van and hopped into the back, muttering "right. Then let's get dangerous!". Bushroot groaned as he stepped inside it as well, grumbling annoyed about how neither he or the rodent should be doing anything dangerous in their state. Megavolt sat down in the passenger seat beside the clown, glancing over as he got the car started. "You know I can still drive. You don't gotta-" as he tried to convince him he was perfectly fine to drive, the duck gripped the wheel tightly and hissed like an angry cat, shutting up any further argument. He then hit the gas and they drove off downtown.

They soon reached the store, parking right behind the cluster of police cars and unconscious cops, floating around on soft, fluffy clouds. "Definitely the work of King Dreamland" Megavolt remarked as he watched a sleeping officer drift by the car. "And it seems his work is almost done!" Bushroot exclaimed as he pointed at the figure inside with a big bulky bag of things in his hands. This caused the Darkwing Ducks to hop out of the van and rush the building while pushing clouds out of the way.

As they got inside, they spotted the hazmat suit wearing villain with cute cartoon stickers of clouds and stars on it, still loading up the bag with wire cutters and a sledge hammer. "We are the terrors that flap in the night! We are the alarm clock that wakes you up one hour late!" Liquidator started talking as purple smoke began to fill the store, causing him to swing around and stared at the cloud of smoke. "Ah! Darkwing Ducks!" King Dreamland yelled in surprise as he backed up from the voice. "Aw come on! At least let us finish our intro!" He groaned frustrated as he reeled back and launched his fist towards the villain, knocking him back into a shelf of nuts and bolts. Quackerjack quickly grabbed a hold of his toy wind-up teeth and threw them at him, causing them to bite down onto the suit sleeve and pinning it to the shelf. He started tugging harshly at the captured sleeve, grunting as he couldn't get it loose. "How dare you?! I'll have your heads for this!" He yelled while using his other hand to pull as hard as he could. "Zip It, snore fest!" Megavolt mumbled as he aimed his finger at him. His view suddenly got a little blurry and he let out a soft groan, feeling a bit of tiredness take over for a short moment until he shook himself back to reality and fired a bolt of lightning. Dreamland gasped and covered his face, but took a peek after he heard the bolt miss him, bounce off of a circle saw and shoot right back at the group and knock Bushroot to the floor. "GHA!" He yelled as he hurt his back upon landing. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, leafy!" The rat exclaimed in shock as he ran over to help him up.

King Dreamland took this opportunity, while the hero team was distracted and reached back to his backpack tank and grabbed the hose nozzle on the side. He pointed it at the befuddled green man and whispered "night night" before he fired a white puff of cloud at him. Megavolt heard the noise behind him and suddenly shouted "Watch out!" And pushed his friend out of the way. The cloud then completely engulfed him, making him disappear within it. Quackerjack gasped and covered his beak in disbelief, shouting a weak "No! Megsy!". He soon came back out from the cloud, lying lazily on top of it with a big, relaxed smile. "Hey… this is… pretty nice" He mumbled with a soft yawn. "You terrible tired tyrant! Hope you enjoy the prison beds!" Liquidator growled and ran at the suited man, hardening his hand so it would give him a hard smash. But the villain noticed how slow he was seemingly going and swiftly redirected the punch towards the teeth holding him stuck. As soon as he was freed from the shelf, he hopped back and pointed the nozzle at him. "You seem tired, doggy! Isn't it past your bedtime?" He said in a cocky voice before he fired another cloud at Liquidator, capturing him as well. "Well this has been fun, but I gotta get going. The night is still young!" The villain yelled back as he ran out the door and left the remaining two heroes with their friends now out of commission.

Bushroot ran over to Liquidator and gave him a light shake. While laying on his stomach on the cloud, he curled up into a ball and murmured "just five more minutes please, Reginald". "No! Liquidator! We need to catch that guy! Don't give in to your sleepiness!" The duck yelled while trying to shake him awake. Quackerjack, on the other hand, gave the rat a curious look. "... how are you feeling, smart guy?" He asked with a twist of satisfaction to his voice. "Sooooo… good… I think I'll take a little power nap" he answered his friend as he closed his tired eyes and let his leg dangle lazily over the edge of the cloud.

"Quackerjack! We have to get them off of these clouds! Come on! You've got to have something in your pockets that will help!" Bushroot ran over and shook the jester's shoulders violently. "Oooor! We don't do that! Think about it for a sec, spuds! These two finally WANT to go to sleep! We just got our little domestic issue solved for us! King Dreamland just did us a favour!" He said with a smug grin on his face, removing the leaf hands off of him.

Bushroot lit up from that realization and glanced between the two sleeping heroes. "You're right! They're sleeping like babies! But… what now? How are we going to stop King Dreamland?" He asked with a worried expression. "Pfffff! We've taken down villains separately before! The two of us can take on this one weirdo!" Quackerjack said confidently and put an arm around his fellow duck. "Yeah! You're right! Let the sleepyheads rest while we handle the hard work!" The plant nodded and chuckled, grabbing his friend's arm and pulling him out of the shop, in the general direction of the villain.

King Dreamland was walking down the street, cackling to himself as he flung the bag of tools over his shoulder. "Wow! Those guys were having an off night!" He mused to himself while speeding up his pace. But he was soon caught off guard by a tree branch suddenly appearing in his way and knocking him over. "Good job, tree friend! Now, you better stop whatever you're planning to do with those tools right now!" Bushroot yelled as he and Quackerjack were rounding the corner, starting to approach him. The villain pushed himself up from the ground and rubbed his head, quickly reaching for his nozzle and firing it at the two. The clown duck pushed his friend back and pulled out a gun from his endless supply of toys, firing it at the cloud. It caused an umbrella to pop out of the barrel, blocking the white puff from consuming them whole. "Darn!" Dreamland yelled as he turned right around and escaped the two while they were distracted. "He's getting away! After him!" Jacky said as soon as the umbrella was closed, pulling his co-hero along to give chase.

King Dreamland ran as fast as he could from the heroes, making a sharp turn into the mall. The two chasing him were slowly catching up, spotting him as he dashed into the mall and quickly following after. As they got inside, they scanned the area to determine where he went. "... There!" Quackerjack yelled and pointed at the bad guy, just entering into a sports shop. They ran inside and started looking around for him. They didn't spot him immediately, so they searched around the place. After a second of looking, Bushroot bumped into him. He screamed in fear and began to run. The plant man yelped surprised and started to run after him. "What are you planning to do with those things, you fellon?!" he yelled after him as he was right on his heels. "You'll see! Once my scheme is put into action! Ahahaha!" he laughed diabolically and held up the bag triumphantly. "OOOH! When I catch up, you'll pay for what you did to my friends!" Bushroot growled angrily as he just kept running, starting to pant a bit as he was getting exhausted from running. Quackerjack just stood beside them both, giving a quizzical glance between them. "What are you doing?" he asked as the other two looked at him confused. They then glanced down and saw that they were just running on a treadmill. "Oh. Well that's embarrassing. Anyways, I'm off!" King Dreamland jumped off the treadmill and ran out the shop again. "We got to catch him!" Jacky said and pointed towards the door. "Get me off of this thing first!" his friend yelled as he was still running and panting. "Oh. Right" he muttered and reached over to push the first button he saw, hoping it would turn it off. It just sped the treadmill up and shot Bushroot back into a wall of jump ropes. He was dizzy for a second, until the other duck pulled him up off the ground and dragged him along.

They ran into the next store, which was a music store, and saw the villain trying to sneak out the back door. Bushroot extended his arms and grabbed a hold of an electric guitar, slamming it into the hazard suited man and launching him into a drum set. He emerged with a big, broken drum around himself. Quackerjack started laughing and pointing at him, finding the slapstick hilarious. Dreamland growled angrily at being humiliated. It was then he spotted where the hero was standing, right underneath a hanging piano. How cliché, but perfect. While bushroot approached to apprehend him, he wriggled his arm loose and sprinted over to the violins, grabbing one of the bows and using it to cut the rope holding the piano and sending it plummeting down onto the jester's head. Bushroot gasped in horror and stared at the broken mess of a musical instrument. The suited man took this opportunity to bolt out the front door with his bag and ran as fast as he could. "Quackerjack?! Are you ok?!" the duck ran over to the piano and asked worriedly, rummaging through the debris until he found him. He sat up straight and swayed slightly, spitting out some piano keys before he could crawl out of the wreck. "Just fine" he muttered before heading out with his friend and pursuing the villain again.

They were soon walking through a hobby store, looking through the isles to find the bad guy. They headed down an isle with different types of paint lining the shelves while darting their eyes all around them. They kept completely quiet as to be able to hear him. It made the entire place eerily silent, like a ghost house. King Dreamland was spying on them from the other side of the shelf, watching them draw closer and closer to his position. As soon as they were near, he gave the shelf a hard shove and made it topple over towards the two. Bushroot looked up at the falling shelf and gasped in shock, giving Quackerjack a push out of the way before he was buried in pain bottles. The other duck yelped surprised before he gave away a growl and looked up at the villain, who ran away and started climbing a shelf. He bolted after him, pulling out a yo-yo from his pants and swinging it around as he got ready to attack. As soon as he reached the bottom of the shelf, Dreamland had already made it up there and picked up a big jug of pink paint, dropping it right down on top of his head. It made a painful indent into his noggin and he fell back onto the floor, getting a thunk on his beak by his own yo-yo, just for some salt in the wounds. "Ha ha ha! Wow! You guys suck! Guess you're nothing without all your team! You better just give up, I can see the bags under your eyes from here! I'm off to blow off some steam… all over town! See ya!" He taunted the two, blowing a raspberry at them, which stained his visor with spit before he hopped down and rushed out the back.

Bushroot managed to wriggle himself out from under the shelf, being completely covered in different splashes of color. He rushed over to Quacks and helped him up off the ground concernedly, looking at the jug that was still lodged into his head. The jester pulled it off of himself and straightened himself out with a proper tug on his hat tails. He then looked over at the plant man, starting to giggle quietly. "Wow. You're looking even more colorful than Megavolt during June!" He joked and snorted into his hands at the rainbow colored duck, who just rolled his eyes and pulled his friend off the floor. "Come on, Quackerjack! We gotta go and find where he went!" He grumbled and rushed both of them out the mall. "But where would he go to "blow of steam", huh?" The other asked as he got no chance to even put back the jug of paint before they were off. "Blow of steam… hmm… all over town! He's going to release his clouds all over town! Probably from a wind turbine! We got to hurry!" Bushroot realized quickly as he pointed towards the nearest wind turbine and headed towards it at top speed.

They arrived at their destination after a bit, immediately noticing that the lock on the door had been cut. "So that's why he got tools!" Bushroot growled angrily and stared at the wide open door, thinking over what their plan of attack was. His head was a little cluttered at that moment, having received a real beating earlier and been running around a lot, so he just shook his head and tried his best to focus. Quacks, on the other hand, just walked right inside. But he then saw the long stairwell leading up to the top and stopped right in his tracks. "... UUUUUUGH! Why STAIRS!? I'm tireeeeed!" He whined and leaned back in defeat. "Come on. We'll make it up there. We need to. For our friends!" The other duck sighed exhausted and began climbing up the stairs, determined to get the bad guy.

A few minutes later, they had reached the top. They were both huffing and puffing heavily, eyes bulging out of their heads as they stopped to catch their breaths. "After this… I'm removing the top floor… of our house!" Jacky groaned and hunched over while leaning on his knees. Bushroot leaned back against the door behind him to rest his tired legs, but was surprised as it started to slowly slide open and make him fall backwards out of the doorway. He looked up with a surprised look until he saw their target a bit away, carrying and setting up a smoke machine. "Hey! Stop right there!" The jester yelled and hopped out beside his friend, pointing at their enemy with a pissed look, mostly because of the pain he had caused them.

King Dreamland turned around and looked at the two weary heroes, grumbling a flippant "geez, do you guys ever give up?". He then set down the smoke machine and pulled the nozzle from his backpack, aiming it at them both. "Alright. You found out my plan. So now what? What are you planning to do to stop me? I mean look at yourselves! You're going to pass out any second" he spoke casually to them as he lightly waved his weapon around, showing how nonchalant he was about all of it, clearly not taking the whole situation seriously. "Don't underestimate my stubbornness-" "determination" "DETERMINATION! We'll put a stop to you right now!" Quackerjack yelled at him and pointed a firm finger while glaring irritated. "Alright. Put a stop to this" he shrugged and shot a big cloud at them. The jester gave away a shriek and covered his face, preparing for the collision. Bushroot shot up from the floor and extended his arms, wrapping them around the other's waist and janking him out of the way.

King Dreamland growled in rage and stomped his foot. "Why won't you lay down and die?!" He shouted as he glared at the two with absolute fury. Quackerjack looked down at his pockets and started rummaging through them to find something he could use to stop the villain on a rampage. He then felt something in his pockets that he didn't expect to have. It gave him an idea and he looked over at the plant holding onto him. "You have to toss me!" he told him hurriedly. "Huh?" he just responded to the cooky duck's request, not sure he heard him right. "THROW MY BODY AT HIM!!!" he then shouted, startling his friend into just doing as told and throwing him as hard as he could. Quackerjack flew straight at the villain and before he could fire another cloud, he was tackled and had a crazy clown climbing and scuttling all over his body, like a racoon who was also an expert climber. He stumbled around while he was being jerked left and right from the whirlwind of a hero. "Get… OFF ME YOU TIRED LOON!!!" He shouted as he finally managed to rip him off and toss him towards his co-hero, knocking him to the ground.

Bushroot quickly pushed Quacks off and got up to rush at the king, ready to whoop his butt. He picked up a sledgehammer from the ground that his enemy brought and swung it at him. But he dodged out of the way and backed out of yet another swing at him, avoiding every attempt at knocking him down. "Man. You guys really suck at this! Can't even land a punch!" He chuckled and grabbed a hold of the hammer, janking it out of his hands and aiming the hose in his face. "Time to visit dreamland."

He shot him right in the face. But he was not greeted by a soft, fluffy, sleep inviting cloud. He was instead splattered in the face by a load of pink. "H-HUH!?!" Dreamland exclaimed, bewildered as he looked into the nozzle and only saw pink. He then looked towards his back to see what went wrong, to discover that his usual tank had been replaced by a jug of pink paint. He then looked up at the other hero and saw him holding up the actual container, giving them both a thumbs up. Dreamland stared at him in shock, unable to believe he was outsmarted by two extremely exhausted dummies. This was unbelievable! He couldn't accept this! But as he was starting to have a breakdown of rage, bushroot looked over at Jacky and yelled "Rubber band!", Which he was tossed quickly and snapped it around the villain, finally capturing him. They both walked up to each other and jumped up and down in joy, cheering about their victory until the tiredness finally started to set in and they fell over onto the ground. "... Let's just get the other two." "Yeah. Let's go" they concluded while laying limply on the ground.

They had finally made it back to where they first had fought King Dreamland and helped the cops wake up before they handed him over to them. They then went inside and spotted their friends, peacefully floating around and sleeping soundly still. They looked so much better than they did earlier, well rested and happy, having these relaxed smiles spread out on their faces. "Ha… They must have had a nice nap" Quackerjack muttered with a fatigued smile as he stared at the sleeping Megavolt, then made the cloud disappear with this tool he took from Dreamland, causing the rat to fall down onto the floor with a thud. "Huh?! Whu?!" he suddenly woke up and looked all around him confused, not sure what had just happened. Quacks handed over the tool to Bushroot, who used it to get rid of the cloud from under Liquidator. But unlike the other duck, he gently caught the dog before he fell onto the floor. "Huh? Hey! How dare you?! I- Uh… Wait. Where did he go?!" he asked puzzled as he looked around, helped back onto his feet by the guy holding him. Megavolt got back up again and rubbed his neck a bit. "Hey… I'm feeling pretty refreshed! Huh!" he pointed out and stretched his arms, letting out a small groan. "Glad to hear it, sparks" Quackerjack grumbled and patted his shoulder. As the rat turned around to him to say something, he immediately stopped himself and looked shocked at his friend. He looked HORRIBLE! Baggy eyes, tired expression, slouchier posture than usual. He was looking absolutely EXHAUSTED! Liquidator thought the same as he got a good look at Bushroot. "Uh… hey… Reginald… Feeling ok?" he asked nervously and put a hand on his shoulder. "You two look like trash!" Megavolt just said, pointing at them both. "Well I was trying to be nice about it, Elmo" he grumbled at the straight forward remark.

"It's ok! We're fine! We captured King Dreamland and everything is good now!" Bushroot told them while trying to look like he wasn't currently dying. "Yeah! We are totally fine!" Quacks added on and grinned at their friends. "... Clearly you're not. You're zombies!" Megavolt sighed and walked over to them, starting to lead them outside towards the van. "Yeah. You two need to go to bed immediately!" Liquidator added in and opened the back of the van for his friend to hop in. Quackerjack opened the driver side door to get inside, but was pushed to the side by the rat, who sat down in the seat. "No. You are not driving like that. Get in the passenger side!" he demanded, pointing to the other side of the car. The duck grumbled angrily and walked around to the other side. He got in and sat down while glaring at his friend. Bushroot looked at Liquidator and muttered "It seems the sun is starting to rise… I'm worried I won't be able to go back to sleep." "Yeah! I don't even feel that tired! It's so early anyways now, so I probably won't be able to fall asleep anyways!" the jester noted to Megavolt, but was completely ignored by him so he could drive.

As they made it back home, Quackerjack was fast asleep in the passenger seat, snoring and drooling onto his shoulder. Liquidator looked over at Bushroot, who looked like he was about to faint as well. "Hey. We're home. Let me help you inside" he spoke softly as he gently put his arm around his shoulders, helping him out into the garage. Megavolt walked around to the passenger side and opened it up, picking the sleeping duck up and just carrying him inside without complaint or snarky comment. Gosalyn was just walking down the stairs, hearing someone coming home. She was in her pyjamas, holding onto Mr. Banana Brain and rubbing her eyes. "Another mission?" she mumbled sleepily, then noticed her two dads, one half asleep and one completely knocked out. The dog hushed her softly, nodding a little towards Quacks. He let out another gentle snore and leaned his head into Megavolt's chest. She nodded and smiled, walking over to him and laying the doll into his lap. "Night daddy" she whispered to him before she turned around to Bushroot and whispered "Night papa" to him. "Good night, my little apple seed" he murmured sleepily. Liquidator and Megavolt both grinned and started heading upstairs to put both the dorks to bed, finally.

#Megavolt #quackerjack #bushroot #liquidator #darkwing duck #negaverse #Gosalyn Mallard #nega megavolt #nega quackerjack #nega bushroot #nega liquidator #nega gosalyn #fanfiction #fanfic #friendly four #dwd fanfic

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tay-is-writing · 4 years ago

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Stargazers — Asahi x Reader

This fic is part of a collab run by @euphylli with the prompt “It’s 3am, why are you at my window?” Word Count: 1.9k Synopsis: On a hot summer night you find yourself unable to sleep and go to your neighbor for help Warnings: None just fluff

The humidity left a sticky residue in your room. No matter how low you set your thermostat, the hot summer air wouldn’t stay out. You tossed your blanket off of your body in a desperate attempt to cool off, or at least to stop sweat from coating your bedsheets. You would definitely have to wash those come morning. Despite your struggle, it still felt like a sauna in your bedroom, and you quickly gave up on the idea of getting any sleep that night. It’s not like you had anything to get up for the next day. You were home from college at your parents’ house for the summer, and... so was your neighbor.

You sent a quick glance out your window to your neighbor’s to see if the light was on. To your dismay, it wasn’t. You were getting flashbacks to high school as your mind became set on what to do next. Your fingers gripped the bottom of the window and slid it open. Immediately, you were smacked in the face by the muggy air outside, which was somehow even worse than your room. Removing the screen from your window and leaning it against your wall, you started to question your choice. It had been a few months since you had last spoken to your neighbor, and maybe this wasn’t the best way to start again. Nevertheless, against your better judgement, you swung your leg over the ledge and crawled through the window. You weren’t necessarily sneaking out. Sure, you were secretly climbing through your bedroom window, but you could’ve walked out the front door if you had wanted to. This was just more efficient.

Your foot made contact with the roof shingles, the ridges digging into your bare soles. You slowly slid down the roof towards the gap that separated your house from your neighbor’s. In all the years you’ve been bridging the gap between the two homes, you hadn’t fallen once. But then again, you weren’t quite as coordinated as you were at sixteen. Luckily, this wasn’t the first, and you let yourself fall forward onto all fours for balance. Did you look particularly graceful as you crawled up the roof? Frankly, you looked like a complete idiot, but, hey, it got the job done. As you crept up the roof, you considered turning back. Just imagine how embarrassing it would be if he turned you away at the window. You shook the thought off. It wasn’t like the two of you weren’t on speaking terms or anything. It had just been a while since you both had the free time to talk face to face so you relied heavily on texting and FaceTime calls.

Your thoughts took you all the way up to the window, where you gave three quick raps before you could take the time to talk yourself out of it. A yelp was heard from inside the room, followed by a loud thump which you could only assume was your neighbor’s body hitting the floor. At least he was up. A separation was made in the blinds that were obstructing your view of the room and two big brown eyes stared into yours. You gave a sheepish wave and the window slid open.

“Good morning, Asahi!”

“It’s 3 am, why are you at my window?” His voice was groggy and you assumed he was either on the verge of falling asleep or you had just woken him up. You felt slightly guilty for disturbing his rest but at the same time, you knew he wouldn’t be angry. At the moment he was mainly disoriented from the late hour and concerned as to why you were here for the first time in a while. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little restless, I guess. So can I come in or should I head back?”

“No! Don’t leave!” He quickly moved out of the way to let you slip through the window before closing it. His hands fidgeted nervously as he thought of what to say next. “Sorry, it just took me by surprise. You haven’t been over in a while and I was scared something was wrong, but I’m glad you’re okay. I wouldn’t know what to do if something happened to you.” A smile ghosted over your lips as you realized just how much you had missed him. You reached out for his jittery hands, trying to calm them. Surprisingly, he didn’t jerk away like you thought he would and instead let his hands settle in yours. This was new for both of you. Sure, you used to hang all over Asahi like he was your personal jungle gym, but this just didn’t have the same effect.

“Not you getting mushy already,” you quickly joked in a desperate attempt to change the tone of the conversation. “So, where are you taking me, big boy?” You cringed as that slipped through your mouth. That used to be your go-to nickname when it came to teasing Asahi, but now it just felt wrong. Without answering you, he walked to his closet and threw a pair of slides and a hoodie at you. “It’s a literal sauna outside and you want me to wear a hoodie?” You watch his eye trail down your body and you remembered the lack of clothing you currently wore in a desperate attempt to cool off enough to sleep. Since the idea of getting any rest that night was out of the question, you reluctantly shrugged on the jacket, mumbling about how you were gonna sweat like a pig.

When the two of you left the house, it was through the front door this time and not the window. Asahi opened the passenger door to his car, a beat-up Nissan that he bought for college, to let you in like the gentleman he was. He slid into the driver’s seat and turned to you. “How does convenience store food and a trip to the park sound?” You eagerly nodded. Late-night snacks with Asahi was some top tier shit, and frankly, you were feeling pretty hungry.

A sense of peace filled your mind as you watched Asahi drive. The car ride was mostly silent, only the sound of Asahi’s playlist that you’d always scrunch your nose at when he’d play it with you. Soft streetlights would periodically illuminate Asahi’s face as you passed beneath them. His hair was disheveled from only waking up minutes ago and his stubble wasn’t yet shaved. Despite that, he still looked perfect to you. If you were being completely honest, you used to have a crush on Asahi in high school, but he was always so skittish that you were afraid to act upon it and end up scaring your friend away. Yet some of that old crush still remained. It was extremely repressed, obviously, but definitely still there. When you walked inside the convenience store, Asahi was still on your mind. When you realized you didn’t have your wallet on you since you were in your pajamas, he insisted on paying and refused to let you pay him back. He opened up your door again and refused to let you carry the bag of junk food on your lap while he drove. When one of his hands slipped off the wheel to rest on the center console, you had to restrain yourself from reaching out to grab it. When you reached the park, you jumped out of the car before Asahi had the chance to open it for you. It wasn’t that you didn’t like how he was treating you, in fact, it was quite the opposite, but you just didn’t know how much more you could take before your long-repressed crush resurfaced.

The two of you settled on a spot in the grass to eat the snacks Asahi had bought. A bag of popcorn was emptied in about a minute in your repeated attempts to land a piece in Asahi’s mouth. After going through a majority of the food you let yourself fall back into the ground. He followed your movements and laid next to you, both staring up at the sky. On nights like this when the two of you were younger, you’d make up random constellations and try to find them again the next night. Your personal favorite was the “man bun” constellation, which just happened to be a random cluster of stars that sort of formed a circle, but mostly it just existed to poke fun of Asahi’s hair.

“God, the stars are so beautiful.” Your head was tilted up, gazing at the twinkling lights in the sky, and your lips were parted in amazement. Asahi fixated his eyes on you. To him, all the stares paled in comparison to you. You were perfect.

“I know something more beautiful,” he murmured, gaining your attention. You knew where he was going with this, and there was absolutely no way that you’d let him get away with saying something so cheesy. It was adorable when he said stuff like this, but interrupting and making Asahi flustered was much cuter.

“Of course! You’re the most gorgeous person I know.” A small smirk ghosted your lips as you watched his face flush red. You weren’t lying; he was gorgeous. You rolled over on your side to look at him, not even bothering to be discreet about it. “Asahi, I have something to tell you.” His face morphed to concern, but you continued before he could interrupt. “I like you. I actually have for a while now, and I completely get it if you don’t feel the same way. It’s not something I’d want to throw our friendship away over, but I just wanted to let you know.”

An uncomfortable silence overtook the conversation, and you started to regret your decision. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Asahi, fearing that he’d have an unsavory expression. It wasn’t until you heard a slight chuckle that your eyes darted back to him. His face was still the color of a tomato and he had a permanent smile implemented on it.

“Please tell me you’re serious about this. Do you know how long I’ve liked you? Daichi and Suga would tease me about it for hours when we hung out.”

It felt like pure bliss to hear those words. You reached out to touch his face to confirm that this was, in fact, happening and not a result of heat exhaustion. “Can I kiss you?” you asked, not wanting to startle him or move too fast. He gave a quick nod and you brought your face to his. Your noses brushed against each other as your lips connected. God, you were thankful for kissing conventions because Asahi would’ve seen your heated face if his eyes were open. Not that he couldn’t feel it. He brought his hands to gently rest on your shoulders, not wanting to force you anywhere. When both of you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his. It was far from a perfect kiss, most firsts are, but it was sweet. You shifted your body to a more comfortable position over his and went in for another kiss. This time was cleaner and you could feel yourself melt into him, the salty taste of popcorn residing on his lips. A soft hum came from his mouth, leading you to smile and slowly disconnect yourself. All those years you had spent yearning over him felt worth it as you saw him smiling underneath you. No one else in the world, just you two stargazers.

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parkerpeter24 · 4 years ago

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summer on you

Pairing ➳ harrison osterfield x reader

Warnings ➳ anxiety, swearing, fluff, ugh this is literally based off my blood-sucking teacher.

Word count ➳ 2.3k words

So, let me wish all my birthday buddies! First of all, a very happy birthday to haz boy! Next, I would like to dedicate this fic to my lovely friends @allegra-writes and @spideygirl2003 also, this was inspired by the song ‘ summer on you’ by PRETTYMUCH

Baby, I ain’t got no money

All I got is time

And I’m gon’ spend that time on you

But when they pay me

And I can buy the sunshine

Take you away, we’ll drink champagne

While holed up in a room

“Yes ma’am, you don’t have to worry about that.” You uttered in the speaker of your mobile typing away the details on the empty spreadsheet that was now on the screen of your laptop. You had spent most of your week like that, sitting in a corner and completing the details of your colleagues in the said spreadsheet. It was killing you, but your boss gave you no option. You just wanted to ditch her and get some rest, or a long, relaxing bubble bath at least.

Then your phone went off, again, pulling you out of your relaxative thoughts and you groaned loudly. Without even looking at the contact you picked up the call and started in the same hoax voice, “Hello, ma’am!”

You were expecting her to go off on you again because you were taking such a long time in typing the name of a few fellow mates and creating the spreadsheet as “higher authorities” had asked for them immediately, but all you heard was the sweet voice of her best friend, “Still working?”

You sighed in relief, pushing your laptop farther from you on the table and rested your head on the cool glass surface. You hummed along as he chuckled. You knew he didn’t mean to make fun of you, it was rather a pity chuckle, “Why don’t you just stop for a while,” he gulped before continuing, “What the hell is that green juice on your dining table?!” He complained, making you gasp and let out a giggle.

“I knew it! Now, what exactly are you doing at my house Haz?” You asked in a serious tone, but failed miserably, “You know I didn’t give you my keys so that you can barge in my house at any time you want!”

He just laughed it off and you sighed, putting the phone on speaker, and pulled the laptop in its initial position to start typing.

“What’re you doing in the office anyway?” He questioned, hearing the soft typing sound of your laptop as he moved towards your kitchen to grab some of your homemade cookies, “I thought it was supposed to be your day off.”

“Ms Vibha sent me here to get the essential files to fill in some fucking details in this fucking spreadsheet.” You gritted your teeth. Haz could sense your expression from your tone as he sighed, “I didn’t even grab any food today, I was in such a rush-” You continued but stopped when you realized that there was an eerie silence on the other side, not a sigh, not even the sound of a footstep, it almost felt intimidating.

“(Y/n),” Haz finally spoke up, his tone serious, making you shift uncomfortably in your work chair. You hummed after a good few seconds, “Wh-what’re anti-depressant pills doing on your kitchen counter?”

Your eyes widened in shock, ‘shit!’ you cursed under your breath. You didn’t realise that you forgot to put those pills in your bag when you were “in such a rush” this morning.

You fell silent contemplating on whether to say something or stay quiet. He didn’t say anything, making you more anxious than ever, and the most depressing part was that your anti-depressants weren't with you. You cleared your throat uncomfortably finally deciding to break the silence, “Haz I can-”

“Can we meet when you get off work?” He asked and you gulped, nodding your head even though you knew he couldn’t see it. There was no way you could escape from it now, he found out that you had anxiety, he would probably leave you forever now.

“Okay.” You said finally before he hung up the phone. You groaned seeing five missed calls from your boss. What an asshole.

----------

You rang the bell beside the door when you reached Harrison’s apartment. Soon the door was opened and you were led in until you were sitting on the couch and a glass of water was placed in front of you on the wooden table.

Harrison had been quiet the whole time you were there. He seemed to think about something deeply as he cleared his throat. You looked at him expectantly but he only stared at the ground.

“Haz,” You finally said in a shaky voice making him look up at you, fast enough to notice the tears in the corner of your eyes, his expression softened, “I have the pills because-”

“Would you go on a road trip with me?”

“W-what?” You asked in return to his sudden question.

He gave you the best ‘seriously?’ face he could muster before speaking, “(Y/n), you are in the dire need of a vacation.” He stated, getting up from his designated chair and sitting on the same couch as you, but he sat on the other end rather than sitting right beside you. He knew it would take a lot of efforts to finally convince you to take this break.

“But- but my boss, and the spreadsheets- I- it’s not possible Haz.” You stuttered and Harrison’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘Poor thing’ he thought. What the fuck has that blood-sucking a-hole done to you?

“Come on...” He pouted, extending the last syllable, “Just two days, give me two days. Please.” He pleaded. Now, to be honest, Harrison is a charming boy. And when he asks you something as tempting as that, you can’t resist the offer. Besides that, you had always adored the blond haired man, you always have, and you could bet that he had the same heart in his eyes while looking at you that you had whenever you saw him. You sighed in defeat while a smile painted on Harrison’s face.

“Two days. That’s all you get.”

Darling, I've been working all week

I've got so much on my plate

Always saying “poor me”

Although my boss is an a-hole

That's when you call me

Said you've been making a plan

To hit the road with me

You sighed, feeling the wind brush against your face and your hair flowing with the wind. Harrison turned to look at you for a moment before fixating his gaze back on the road.

Everything was peaceful. Finally. Harrison has taken your phone away from you in the prospect of keeping your anxiety at the lowest level, and to be honest, it was working. You were smiling softly when Harrison saw you. You looked like an angel in that beautiful dress and your hair flowing back. He made you smile. The thought made him smile proudly as a blush adorned his face.

You turned to look at him with the same smile plastered on your face. You were on a long road surrounded by trees all over. The sky was grey, it was about to rain. People would say the scene looked that of a cliché thriller movie, but you were loving it. Everything was perfect. The weather, the company, the way he looked, your hand brushing his on the gear, feeling him stealing glances at you. Perfect.

The car finally came to a halt and you looked at the small lodge in front of your eyes. It was a typical wooden cabin surrounded by a dense forest, away from the urbanisation, and you loved it.

You tried to help Harrison with carrying the bags inside but every time you offered, like a gentleman, he denied and told you to fuck off.

Just like a gentleman.

It was raining when you finally settled inside your respective rooms. You made your way out of the room and into the common room. You had a long time before dinner to yourselves –it seemed like it would be a long time until the rain stopped– so you started fidgeting with Harrison’s guitar.

He watched you with a smile as you tried to play a song but it sounded out of tune. He laughed and you squint your eyes at him, “What’re you laughing at?”

“It’s just that, you’re cute when you mess the chords up.” He laughed some more as a blush covered your face.

“You can’t play any better than me.” You mumbled, but he might’ve heard it because the next moment he was next to you, holding the guitar, ready to play a song.

You smiled, a flutter in your heart, as you saw him strum the strings to your favourite song, the pitter-patter of rain complementing the soothing voice of guitar.

We’ll hit the coast on the late night

Make love ‘til daylight

I love it when you play with my hair

You know it feels so nice

And I’ll do what you like

Naked in the moonlight

We don’t care if we are broke

When love is all we own

The loud sound of thunder woke you up. You suddenly sat up in your bed. You were not scared, just shocked by the suddenness of the storm brewing outside and a little worried.

You made your way to the next door and slowly opened it, feeling the cold doorknob against your skin.

Harrison was sleeping peacefully as you leaned against the doorframe. You couldn’t stop but stare at the sleeping beauty, it calmed you a little.

You sighed, moving to sit on the bed and gently shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes ever so slightly and looked at you, “Hey,” You greeted sheepishly.

“Hey, ever heard about sleep?” He questioned with a hoarse voice, and his british accent made it even more beautiful, sending a soft shiver down your spine. He saw you playing with the hem of the bedsheets and asked, this time with a more concerned voice, “What is it?”

You looked at him with slightly wide eyes. Harrison felt like someone had just splashed gallons of water on his face and the next moment he was wide awake, you looked so beautiful under the soft lamplight and when the thunder roared, the light reflected on your skin. But you flinched a little, “Can I- can I stay in here tonight?”

He smiled, opening his arms so you could lay there. And you did, sighing as his warmth engulfed you already making you feel protected.

As another loud thunder sounded outside you snuggled into Harrison, his hands in your hair, brushing the soft (y/h/c) out of your face.

When you woke up, the next morning, you were alone in the bed. You rubbed your eyes and looked around to see any sign of Harrison but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You roamed around the old cabin and finally found him in the front, loading some things on top of the car. He saw you standing by the door and smiled, “Morning, sleepyhead!”

You laughed, moving closer to where he was, “What is all this?” You asked. He just pointed towards the clear, blue sky as you followed his finger.

“If you haven’t noticed darling,” He started, making you blush at the nickname, “The sky is all clear and so we’re going to the beach!”

I’m singing hey babe

Two jobs on minimum wage

Although the rent’s late

Still got a smile on my face

We ain’t got the sunshine

But we got hearts in our chest

To feel the love like this

Stronger than anyone else

You were really excited throughout the car ride to the beach, and on finally reaching there you ran out of the car. It was mostly empty with a few people around, overall a nice place to be.

You and Harrison had the day to yourselves. You spent the day swimming in the ocean and splashing water on the other, it was great. Laying under the sun after lunch, and finally, you decided to go surfing.

You sat on your surfing board watching the enticing view when the sun started going down, Harrison beside you, silently watching you instead of the beautiful pastel sky.

You were literally very happy that Harrison took you to this place. You needed this break. And even if you didn’t know what would happen when you returned back to your normal, hectic life, you didn’t care, not right now.

“What is it?” You asked, eyes still set on the sunset. Harrison’s eyes widened a little when you caught him staring, “Do you want to say something?” You asked again, waiting for him patiently but he just stared at you with an open mouth, you chuckled, “I’m really happy that you convinced me to come here with you.” You said with a grateful smile.

He just looked at you and smiled back before silence filled the surroundings. A few moments later, the sun had almost disappeared into the horizon and you suggested to Harrison that the both of you should head back to the cabin, but he didn’t say anything, just staring ahead, “(Y/n),” He sighed finally.

You looked at him expectantly, “What happened?”

“I do have to say something.” He looked into your eyes with his beautiful aqua blue ones. You waited for him to continue, “I-I felt it my responsibility to make you happy when I found those pills just sitting on your kitchen counter. You should’ve told me earlier (Y/n)! I would’ve never let that get to you! And I-”

“I love you.” You cut him off mid-sentence, “I’m sorry I made you worry.” You looked down.

“Hey,” He swam closer with soft eyes, “I love you too.” He smiled, stopping just beside you, close enough that you could reach over and just kiss him senseless.

But he did it first.

He led your chin up with the help of his finger, guiding you to his soft lips and you melted into him. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you down from your surfing board as he smiled into the kiss. You could feel it in the air, it was something different. And you knew it was going to stay like that for a long, long time.

Oh I will spend my summer on you.

Permanent taglist: @parkershoodie @spideygirl2003 @tommysparker @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @allegra-soleil @rubberducky-jrr @purefluff @clara-licht @anjali750 @drunklili @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @the-crazy-fanfictionist @fanficparker @halfblood-princess-505 @chaoticpete @hollandsamor @t-monosapiens-h @tom-holland-is-spiderman @sunflowerhollands @averyfosterthoughts @katiejupiter

My mutuals + friends who might be interested in this: @spideyyeet @euphoria-parker @kelieah @cosmicholland @worldoftom @soft-petey @lovelytholland @londonspidey @lauras-collection @lost-aesthetic-of-past @marvelousell @angelholland @miss-nerd95 @parkeret @greenorangevioletgrass @dahliaspidey @angelic-holland @definitely-not-black-cat @preciouspparkers @properweirdparker

#haz osterfield #harrison osterfield #haz osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield blurb #harrison osterfeild x reader #harrison osterfeild imagine #haz osterfield x y/n #haz osterfield x reader #cookie’s fics #cookie’s writings

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breanime · 5 years ago

Text

Helpess (Part Ten)

So this is the end... The last and final part of Helpless. You can read (or re-read) the whole series here.

*banner by @starkrobb, who I can’t thank enough for this badass creation!*

“That’s them,” Micro reported, gesturing to the screen of his laptop, “Coming in hot.”

You, Billy, Frank, Madani, and Micro stood in a small circle, looking down at the laptop. You watched a black car turn down the road, and you could tell, just from the short clip, that Joe wasn’t behind the wheel.

Which meant he was riding shot gun to Rawlins… Interesting.

“We have to call for backup,” Madani said, “I’m not asking, Castle—”

“Do what you gotta do, Madani,” Frank’s eyes never left the screen, “Call ‘em, don’t call ‘em… by the time they get here; it’ll be over.” He looked over at her, and when you caught his eye, you could only see The Punisher. “This man destroyed my life,” he said, “He doesn’t get to walk away. Bill, you know your position.” And with that, he walked off, a slight limp in his walk.

You glanced over at Billy, your heart skipping a beat just by looking at him, the last three words he said to you still ringing in your ear. I love you. “Position?” You asked.

“Rooftop,” Billy answered, bending down to grab a random sniper rifle that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He took a step, then stopped. “C’mon.”

“What?” You asked.

“You’re coming with me,” he said, grabbing a bag of ammo, “I need you to stay by my side.”

Your heart jumped, and you followed him eagerly. Billy took you up through the attic to the roof, and you watched as he set up shop.

“I need you to stay down,” he said, not looking up from his task, “And listen to me—for real this time.” He glanced back at you. “Can you do that?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Probably.”

Billy groaned, dropping his head, and you giggled. “You’re gonna be the death of me…” He muttered. He looked back up at you, his eyes surprisingly soft. “C’mere.”

You approached him carefully, like a small animal approaching a predator. Billy reached out and pulled you to him, and you closed your eyes, calmed and comforted by his touch. This man had been a stranger, and then a lover, then a memory, and now he was with you, holding you…

…loving you.

You looked up at him, and Billy’s eyes were two black pools that you were ready to drown in. He met you halfway, leaning down as you leaned up, and pressed his lips against yours. “Promise me,” he said, his mouth still on yours, “that you’ll stay with me.”

You nodded. “I promise.” And you meant it.

Billy had you a few yards behind him, crouched in the back under a small awning. You stared at his back; he hadn’t moved in a long while, his eagle eyes trained on the road ahead. You clutched the straps of your bulletproof vest—the one Billy had insisted you wear—as you watched him. In that moment, you could see how he made such a superb soldier. He was completely focused on the mission, and yet, you knew he was also very aware of what was behind him—you, and below him—Frank and the others. You could see, from the set of his shoulders, that Billy was poised for action, ready for action. And damn…

…it was kinda hot.

You bit your lip, willing your libido to take a freaking chill pill, when you heard the sound of tires in the distance. You sat up, on edge, but Billy didn’t budge—he’d heard it long before you did.

“ETA: thirty seconds,” Billy said into his earpiece, talking to Frank, “Time to end this, brother.”

Even though you knew it was coming, you still flinched when Billy shot out the tires. You couldn’t see what was going on below, Billy had you too far to see properly, but you heard answering gunfire. Billy didn’t seem concerned, though, as he continued to shoot down at the car. You heard tires screech, and then the unmistakable sound of a crash, and you knew Billy had taken the car down. He was switching rifles now, his movements fluid and quick, and you heard Frank’s guttural yells below you. Someone was getting their ass beat—

—and you would bet that someone wasn’t Frank.

Still, you couldn’t help but flinch with each sound of fists hitting flesh, and you knew Frank was taking his fair share of hits. You could tell because of the tension in Billy’s shoulders.

“Is Frank…?” You called out, afraid to finish your sentence.

“He’s got this,” Billy answered without turning around, “This is his fight.”

You closed your eyes, trying to focus in on the sounds below you. You could hear Rawlins yelling, calling Frank and Billy grunts, going on and on about how he made the calls, and they followed the calls, how they were nothing without him. Frank was breathing heavily; he didn’t sound good.

“Billy…” You said, staring at his back.

Billy grunted, put down his gun, and picked up a knife. He stood up, exposing himself, and threw the knife.

You heard Rawlins’ scream, and then you heard Frank’s answering shout, and then it was just the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and grunting, and screaming…

Then silence.

Billy grabbed the ammo bag and draped it over his shoulder, turning to you. “It’s done,” he said, walking over and putting a hand out.

You took his hand, letting him help you up. “Frank?”

Billy gave you a wry smile. “He’ll live.”

“And Rawlins? Joe?” You asked.

Billy shook his head. “Rawlins was alone. Yakavetta’s in the wind.” He watched you deflate, and he put a hand, warm and firm, on your face. “Madani’s probably called her back-up by now,” he said, “I bet she can track him. Come on.”

You and Billy retrieved Frank—he was bloody as hell, half out of it, but he was alive, just like Billy said. You dragged him back into the safehouse and laid him in the back of the van so that Micro could see to him.

“You got eyes on Yakavetta?” Billy asked Madani as he stood over Frank.

“My guys are on their way,” she said, clearly pissed at the way the day had gone, “They’re going to arrest him, Russo, and probably you and Castle, too if—”

“I’m taking your GPS,” Billy said to Micro, ignoring Madani. He swiped the GPS, typing in what you assumed were coordinates.

“He’s on the run,” Micro said as he taped Frank back together, “I’ve got him, but he’s moving, and moving fast. Looks like he’s got a couple of security with him, too. Last I checked, he was covered by at least five cars.” He looked up at you and Billy then, his hands wet with Frank’s blood. “With the way she drives,” he said, “I bet you can catch him.”

“Y/N, no,” Madani started, taking three steps towards you.

You turned to Billy, and he was staring at you, those dark eyes fixated on you and you only.

“I’m going,” you said, “and I want you to come with me.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?” Madani asked. “I am telling you—you cannot do this! If you go after Yakavetta, you are breaking the law.”

“I’m with you,” Billy said, still ignoring the agent.

“Y/N, Russo, I am telling you—” Madani started.

“Stay with Frank,” Billy told Micro, “We’ll be back.” He glared over at Madani. “If you want to arrest us, Agent, you can try.” His hand went to his waist, hovering near his gun. “I want you to try.”

Madani glared back at him, but she stepped back nonetheless.

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing the keys, “I’ll drive; you shoot.”

Billy grinned.

You had always felt a sense of control when you were behind the wheel, but now, with Billy beside you as you chased down the man who ruined your life—you had a strange sense of calm come over you. You were calm when you neared the target, calm when Billy leaned out of the window and pointed his gun out, his aim impeccable. You were calm when he shot out the tires of the first car, calm when you watched it veer off and hit the divider, the screech of metal almost as loud as the roar of the engine.

“Get closer,” Billy said, hanging out of the window.

You hit the gas, biting your lip as you maneuvered the car closer. They were shooting now, but you weren’t worried—you had the best marksman in the world at your side, as far as you were concerned, they were welcome to try to take you down. You knew Billy wouldn’t let that happen.

The two of you worked in tandem, Billy shooting the men while you drove. You had never, in all of your time working on heists, with crews, with different types and groups of people, felt so connected with another person like this. It was so natural, so easy, to do this with Billy at your side. With him, you felt safe and supported, you felt strong and confident. With Billy, you felt anything but helpless.

Before long, you and Billy had mowed down all the cars but one: Joseph Yakavetta.

“I got a shot at the guard,” Billy said, “Once I shoot, I want you to drive Yakavetta off the road.”

You gripped the wheel, your heart pounding. “On it.”

Billy looked over at you, a grin on his face. His hair was blowing in the wind, and he had blood on his face, but man… you had never seen a more beautiful man in your life.

As soon as the shot landed, you turned the wheel, slamming your car against Yakavetta’s. The sound of metal scrapping against metal filled the air, and you pressed down on the brakes, teeth gritting as you tried to keep control. Yakavetta’s car bumped against yours, and you knew he was trying to push you off the road—but not if you did it first.

“Hang on,” you said between your teeth You glanced over at Billy—

—he was staring at you like you hung the sun, dirt and blood on your face as you practically broke your own jaw as you tried to run a man (Yakavetta, but still) off of the road.

Maybe this was love.

You turned the wheel, using your back tires to your advantage, and gasped when Yakavetta’s car slid off of the road. You looked back at Billy, your eyes wide and heart pounding. You swallowed, slowing the car down. “This is it… I love you.”

When you stopped the car, Billy got out first, securing the scene. His gun was out, and you watched as he leaned towards Joe’s car. He said something, but you couldn’t hear him. You watched as Yakavetta got out, holding his arm and limping. Billy forced him to his knees before checking him for weapons. Billy made him toss a gun, and when he was satisfied, he looked to you and gestured you forward with a turn of his head.

Joe laughed when he saw you, a broken, gargled sound, but a laugh nonetheless. “Y/N,” he croaked, “My little girl…”

“Don’t,” you said, tears stinging in your eyes, “just… don’t. I’m not your ‘little girl’, I’m not your daughter… I’m the woman who’s going to kill you.”

“Kill me?” He laughed again. “Weren’t you working with the Feds? Witness protection? Last I checked, Homeland Security doesn’t sanction murder.”

“That’s why me and Homeland didn’t work out,” you said back easily, “Difference of opinion.”

He licked his lips, looking from you, to Billy, and back again. “You know, the last time we spoke, things… Things had gotten a little out of hand.”

“You mean when you killed Ronnie? And Jamal?” You asked.

He looked down at his hands. “That…” He looked back up at you, the man who you used to think was the most powerful force in the world, on his knees in front of you. “… That was never my intention,” he said, “Jamal was one of us. And Ronnie… He was my son—”

“Fuck you, Joe,” you said, your face twisting in disgust, “You never cared about Ronnie, or Jamal, or any of us.” You held out a hand, eyes still focused on your adopted father. “Gun.”

Billy placed a gun in your hand, the Santa Claus of deadly weapons.

“You—you’re really going to kill me?” Joe asked. “After everything I’ve done for you? I took you in as my own, put a roof over your head, taught you how to provide for yourself—”

“You made me your puppet,” you said, the gun heavy in your hand, “You killed my friend, and my brother…” You blinked back tears. “Who knows what you’ve done to Khalil and the others…”

“You know damn well what I’ve done,” Joe snapped back, “I took a bunch of worthless, unwanted kids and turned them into something. You, Ronnie, Khalil—you were nothing before me! I made you!”

“I hate you,” you said, and you let the first tear fall, “I’ve always hated you… and now…” You looked over at Billy, your inconstant constant. “…I don’t think I can do this.” You heard Joe exhale, but you ignored him. “I want to,” you told Billy, “I want to so bad, but…” You looked down at your hands; they were shaking. “But I can’t.”

“Okay,” Billy reached over and took the gun, tucking it in his pants, “That’s okay… We can call Madani, let her arrest him.”

“Yes,” Joe said, grinning from his spot in the dirt, “yes, do that—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Billy said, raising the gun.

Joe shut the fuck up.

“No,” you said, turning to Billy, “Billy, I can’t do this. I don’t know why, but I can’t… But…”

He smiled, and you felt yourself relax. “But I can,” he finished for you.

You turned to Joe, willing yourself to be strong—to watch this happen. His eyes were wide, wider than you’d ever seen them, and you could see the fear in them. He opened his mouth, still thinking he had a chance, that he had any semblance of control—

—and Billy shot him right between the eyes.

Billy drove on the way back, one hand on the wheel, and the other holding yours. He’d mentioned something about picking up Frank (“and his little geek friend”) and seeing what exactly Madani was prepared to do now that she had a triple homicide on her hands, but beyond that, the ride was silent.

“Did you mean it,” you asked, your voice low, “what you said earlier…?”

“When I told you, I loved you?” He said, eyes on the road. “I meant it.” He glanced down at you. “Did you?”

You nodded, your hand flexing in his. “Yeah,” you said back, “I meant it.” You smiled over at him, and Billy smiled back. “So,” you grinned, “what now?”

*Six Months Later*

You’d never thought you would be able to say it, but…

You loved your job. Your legal, non-life-threatening job. But it was true—you loved it.

“Y/N,” Khalil poked his head into your office, “we got another order on a Mercedes… We got some room in the garage still…”

“Yeah, let’s take it,” you said, leaning back in your chair, “But once you put the order in, go ahead and head out,” you told him, “I want you to get at least an hour of studying in tonight.”

Khalil laughed. “Aw, c’mon, you know I’m gonna ace the exam.”

You smiled; hiring Khalil had been one of the first things you’d done after Yakavetta’s inheritance came through. As Joe’s next of kin, you were given his estate and all of his funds. Madani vouched for you to Homeland—a move that you still couldn’t wrap your head around—and your record was expunged. She was also able to pay you for the time you served under witness protection, too. And then you opened the garage. Khalil was your first, and most exuberant, hire. He worked hard, was willing to learn, and his work here kept him out of the streets. Your smile widened as you looked at him, the logo on his shirt pristine, even though he’d been working mort of the day: Ronnie’s Garage. “Get busy,” you said, shaking your head.

Khalil gave you a salute before he bounced away, but he was back a second later. “Mr. Russo’s here to see you, boss,” he reported.

You bit your lip. “Thanks, Khalil.” You stood up and went out to the lobby. Billy was there with two of his men, one on each side of him. He was dressed in one of his fancy suits, his hands in his pockets, and when he saw you, he smiled.

“Mr. Russo,” you said brightly, “You’re early.”

“Our client’s situation changed,” he answered smoothly, “I was hoping we could expediate our order…”

“Of course,” you smiled, “Anything for Anvil.” You turned to Khalil, who was watching you closely, always taking mental notes on how you ran things, “Can you grab the keys for the Russo order, please?”

“Yup!” Khalil turned, jogging to the back.

“They’re already ready?” Billy asked.

You grinned. “That’s how we do things at Ronnie’s.”

He nodded, turning to his men. “You got three hours to get to the location,” he said, all business, “Bring the target in alive.”

“Yes, sir,” they both said together. Khalil came back and handed them the keys, and they scurried off, eager to get to work.

“You, uh… You still got that Rolls Royce, Mr. Russo?” Khalil asked shyly.

“Billy. And yeah,” Billy said back, that smile back on his face.

“Khalil, homework,” you said, waving him off.

“Alright, alright… See ya next week, Y/N. Nice to see you again, Mr. Ru—Billy,” Khalil said before running off.

“Nice kid,” Billy said, watching the door close behind him.

“Mm…” You bit your lip as Billy turned, his long legs bringing him to you quickly, his movements as liquid as always. He put a hand on your hip and pulled you close, his other hand going to cup your face.

“What?” He asked.

“An unannounced expediated order?” You said drily. “Seriously, man?”

“I needed to see you,” Billy grinned, leaning down to kiss you, “Thought this was the easiest way to get your attention.”

“Easier than a text?” You laughed. “You’re lucky I already had your order filled, man.”

“I knew you would,” he said back, “Ask me how I knew.”

“How did you know, Billy?”

“I knew,” he kissed you again, “because you work too much.”

“Well isn’t that the crow calling the raven black!” You said back, pushing at his shoulders.

“Is that a Game of Thrones reference?”

“Course it is,” you took his hand, “We need to finish it tonight when we get home.”

“Mm,” his hand went down to your ass, “I had plans for tonight…”

“Ah,” you nodded, “hence the very important expediated ‘mission’.”

“Perks of bein’ the boss,” he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours, “but you know that…”

You sighed, melting into Billy’s touch like you always did. “I just got another car in…” You said, leaning your head back so Billy could have access to your neck.

“It’ll still be here after the weekend,” he said into your neck, his lips warm on your skin.

“Don’t you have some kind of mission to oversee?”

“I can do that from home,” he said back, “from bed…”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around Billy. “You make a convincing argument…”

“I know,” he grinned down at you, “And all you have to do is say yes.”

You laughed—of course you were going to say yes.

You were always helpless when it came to Billy.

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Thanks for reading! And thank you for the support and patience! (Reminder: still using the old taglists until Friday night)

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @charlylama @realduckvader @whovianayesha @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily @fanfictionrecommendations-com @maxslime-blog@songforhema @lucielandss @themadhatter92 @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @leahnicole1219 @evanlys19 @binbons-is-theloml @aikeia @bitch-imma-head-out @witchygagirl @geeksareunique @sparrows-books @nyxxnoxx @justvnash @truly-insatiable

Benny B Taglist: @suchatinyinfinity @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @starkrobb @elanor-of-imladris @thesumofmychoices @marauderskeeper @honeyydippaa @thebabblingbookworm @khuangpu13 @ladyblablabla @woodlandreads @ms-delos @belladonnarey @thesandbeneathmytoes @georgiagrl1990 @kahlanmars @the-blind-assassin-12 @sylphene @ashdab2611 @tessxblxckthorn

Benny B Taglist (minus Sirius): @banditthewriter @something-tofightfor

Helpless Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @accioromancff @funerals-with-cake @700teacups @thesumofmychoices@wangmangagavroche @im-a-mess-ness @fangirlharbor @vhgirlforever @coraz0ndcristal @contanto-que-voce-me-queira @editboutique @lysawayne @benbarnestongue @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @agent-bossypants @hellsregnantqueen @ilkaeliseb @kimmie113080

#Billy Russo x reader #billy russo imagine #billy russo #helpless series #helpless fic

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