#like in most of the books the team will cross long distances (in-text) over the course of days or weeks to reach their destination | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lightsovermonaco · 3 years ago

Text

Body Shots (Pierre Gasly)

Inspired by (and beta read) by the amazing @limp-wrist-max thank you Mea!

Masterlist

Word count: 3.5k

Recommended song: “Lucky You” by Sim Dane

Vacationing in Milan had its perks. Fine dining, luxury stores that were prime for window shopping, and the proximity to your best friend, to name a few.

When you'd touched down in Milan you had had no intentions of visiting Pierre. You had just finished your exams for your summer class and had a week before the next semester started up, so you had simply booked the cheapest ticket and boarded a plane.

The intent had been to have some good wine, good food and unwind. Pierre saw your Instagram story minutes after you posted it and recognized the bakery you stopped at for lunch. And once he found out you were only a few minutes away from that weekend's grand prix, he had ideas that didn't involve you reading a novel all day.

Pierre had insisted that a last minute cancelation by a family friend had left a paddock pass unclaimed and had suggested you take it.

"You're my best friend, it'll be fun to have you experience a weekend through my eyes for once instead of sitting in the stands. Come visit me."

Something in the inflection of his voice made the simple request rub you raw. He missed you. It had been months since your last get together and you couldn't blame him. The last year had been rough for him and he rarely had anyone physically at his side to help him through it.

Inviting you instead of one of his parents was about more than your current proximity to the track. He hadn't missed a beat in asking you, not hesitating to consider anyone else being with him this weekend.

Your stomach had turned as you climbed in a cab Sunday morning, not out of fear of something going wrong but because of the nagging feeling that something was about to change.

You'd known Pierre since you were kids. Your brother had raced in karting before pursuing another dream, but in the few short years you'd hung around European tracks you had managed to forge a bond with one of your brother's rivals. That friendship carried on regardless of the distance that separated you, kept alive by visits in the off season and once a year trips to the racetrack at Silverstone.

Pierre met you at the gates and you had barely seen him since.

A decent qualifying session saw the Frenchman start P10 on Sunday's race. He didn't hide the fact that he was disappointed, but come time for his final meeting with the team you'd never guess he was anything but ecstatic.

You had to be conscious about your mouth hanging open when Pierre stepped into the garage in his fireproofs with his suit half undone. The tuft of blond hair peeking through his backwards cap floats on an invisible breeze and he bounces on his toes. His brow furrows when he is handed a data sheet, listening intently to what the engineer points out.

Butterflies riot in your stomach when Pierre catches you staring and winks. You pray he writes the blush on your cheeks off as the heat and he must, because he raises his eyebrows and flexes a bit.

You laugh to cover the way you want to do nothing but strip him out of that tight fitted white shirt. Your crush was getting out of hand. Pierre's shameless, friendly flirting only escalated matters.

You told yourself it was nothing. He was like this with every girl he met, making a fool of himself to earn a laugh. You were no different, except maybe that you were a constant where most other women only got to enjoy his playful personality for a short time.

You're treated to a few long minutes of watching Pierre prep to climb into the car before he's heading out on track to line up at the grid.

The race starts off fine, Pierre's pace is better than expected. One of the Haas's breaks down at the pit entry and Pierre's strategist decides to bring him in for a fresh set of tires. A kiss seems like the proper reward for their stroke of brilliance, which affords Pierre the advantage when the pits close soon after.

Restarting on lap 28 is nail biting. Hamilton, Stroll, and Pierre make up the podium places. The entire garage gasps when Stroll goes wide at turn four. Hamilton serves his penalty and Pierre inherits the lead. Sainz jumps on the opportunity to attack.

Pierre defends brilliantly until the final lap. The team erupts when he crosses the line first, bringing home the win.

Red, white and green confetti sticks to his skin as he sprays the champagne over all of you. In the heat of it all, Pierre sits on that top step and shakes his head. You already know that the photos of him being snapped from all angles will be gorgeous, the sun shining down on the first French grand prix winner in decades.

A legend in the minds of his people and in yours.

You could scarcely believe it yourself. Your best friend had finally, after years of being pushed down, won a grand prix at the temple of speed. Red Bull had been wrong, just as you'd insisted when Pierre cried over losing his seat and his friend in one weekend. But god, did Pierre rise above it all.

Pierre catches your gaze just before he leaves the podium. A lifetime of emotion swirls around him like an enigma, begging you to find out what it was hiding. Your wave is barely more than a lift of your hand but Pierre notes it nonetheless, tipping his trophy in your direction.

You wait patiently on the sidelines as Pierre poses for pictures with his team on and off the track. His attention constantly falls on you, his grin widening each time he sees you tucked under the arm of an enthusiastic mechanic or crew member. Alpha Tauri was a family and you were an honorary member thanks to your connection to their driver.

An action packed hour of cameras passes before Pierre is able to break away. As soon as he's given the go ahead he passes his trophy off and marching to you. You're both practically running by the time you meet in the middle. You crash into him and he lifts you off your feet in a crushing hug.

"You did it," you whisper, overwhelmed by his success now that you've gotten the chance to celebrate with him. "I'm so proud of you."

Pierre laughs as he sets you on your feet. His smile is wider than you've ever seen it and you're sure his cheeks must be sore.

"Wish they allowed us to bring a friend up there," Pierre says softly, a smile melting into a sly smirk. "Seeing you doused in champagne is an image I wouldn't forget."

You shake your head, caught up in his ceaseless flirting. He had no idea that his honeyed words and gentle touches lit something inside of you, rattling your brain and making it impossible to form a coherent sentence. Instead you snatch the black and gold Pirelli cap off his head and place it on your own, earning you a peal of laughter.

"Looks better on you anyway." Pierre runs a hand through his sweaty, champagne doused hair, leaving bits sticking up at odd angles.

Someone calls Pierre's name, far enough away that there's no rush. Pierre's hands remain planted on your waist and yours stay wrapped around his neck. By the way his bright blue eyes bore into yours, you swear he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Thank you for believing in me," he murmurs, gaze falling to your lips.

"I knew it was just a matter of time," you tell him, inching up on your tiptoes. Tempted by his win, you want to ruin the best friendship you've ever had. You want to discover if the lips you spend far too much time dreaming about felt as soft as they looked. You want to know how it feels to be lost in Pierre, newly minted race winner, and find out just how he dealt with the adrenaline and euphoria of his incredible drive.

"Well done mate!"

Max Verstappen startles the two of you apart. You take a healthy step back and drop your gaze to the ground to hide your burning cheeks.

"Thanks." Pierre accepts the Dutchman's embrace and claps him on the back. "Sucks I didn't get to fight you for it."

"There will be more chances in the future. And I didn't expect to see you here, that's a nice surprise." Max knocks you with his shoulder, tipping you off balance. On instinct you latch onto Pierre's arm to steady yourself. You wait a heartbeat too long to remove your hand and both of you find anywhere to look but each other.

"So where's the party?" You ask, searching for a distraction from the way your palm still burns.

"Definitely not at Red Bull." Max shudders and you laugh because that's what you do when someone is being over dramatic. It rings hollow in your ears.

"I hear there's a few guys with adjoining rooms at the hotel who bought plenty of booze," Pierre says. "You and Dan wanna come by?"

"Is that really a question?" Max grins, already typing out a text as Pierre feeds him the details.

**********

"You should do body shots," Max suggests, which earns a roaring laugh from Daniel and a half hearted one from Pierre.

"I don't think so," Pierre says, "there's no one here I trust enough to let that happen."

"Not even your best friend?" Max gestures to you and shoots you a wink when Pierre glances over. "I think she's trustworthy."

"No thanks." Pierre holds up his plastic cup and salutes Max before draining it to the dregs.

Pierre's immediate refusal hurt more than it probably should have. You hadn't expected him to jump at the offer but having him shut the idea down so thoroughly hadn't been what you wanted either.

Max notes your pouty lower lip and speaks on your behalf. "Come on mate," Max insists. "You just won your first prix, live a little! It's not like you've got anything to lose, she's your best friend."

"That's exactly why-"

"Shut up, it would be fun! Wouldn't it?" Max says this last bit to you, a wild grin on his face.

Max expects you to turn red and object. That was his end goal. But what the Dutchman hadn't counted on was how drunk you already were on Pierre. On his smile. On his bright blue eyes, swirling in the aftermath of his unlikely triumph. And mostly on the not-so-sneaky way he glances at you every few minutes.

"Let's do it."

Pierre blinks, searching your face for any sign of distress. "Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, why not?" You shrug, suddenly fearing that you'd read him wrong and he really was against this whole thing. "Unless you don't want to-"

"Get the vodka," Pierre interrupts, nodding to Max though his stare remains pinned on you. Pierre latches onto your wrist and drags you around the room until he finds a table long and sturdy enough for his liking.

"This a good height for you?"

The coffee table is low enough that you'd have to kneel. Luckily getting on your knees isn't something you'd mind doing for Pierre. You lick your lips without thinking. Pierre's pupils blow wide, black swallowing the swirling oceans of blue.

"Sure," is all you manage.

"Good." Apparently neither of you were able to focus on speech. You work together to clear the empty plastic cups and used napkins from the surface. Your hands brush when you both reach for the last cup and you just catch the way Pierre's breath hitches.

You and Pierre have danced this dance since you were teenagers. Each of you knows the steps by heart. The only difference is tonight neither of you were poised to bow out before the final lift.

"Beep beep, bitches!" You yank your hand away when Max's shout reaches you. Pierre's hand lingers in front of him, outstretched as if your palm remained grazing his thumb.

Max holds the bottle of vodka over his head as he wades through the crowd. "You're all about to be very, very entertained."

"Where's your chaperone?" You ask Max, searching for Daniel in the low lighting. You press your palm to your thigh, dissipating Pierre's lingering heat.

The Dutchman waves you off. "Went to get us more drinks. Pierre, isn't it kinda hard to do body shots if you're still fully clothed?"

"Who says I'm the one getting undressed?"

Max's grin dimples his flushed cheeks. "I mean you can ask her to take her shirt off in front of all these people if you want to."

"No," Pierre responds quickly. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Pierre strips off his shirt he gets more than a few whistles from men and women alike. That tended to happen when someone was built like a Greek fucking god, you supposed. Whoever voted for People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" and decided on Michael B. Jordan had clearly never laid eyes on Pierre, with his bronzed skin, endless expanses of muscle, and brilliant cheshire grin.

Michael B. Jordan who?

Pierre hands the team branded shirt off and lays out on the table. He pillows an arm under his head, bare bicep flexed as he gets comfortable. Leaning in to kiss along the hard muscle was out of the question, however tempting it was.

Pierre looks up expectantly. "You coming?"

Holy shit, this was actually happening.

"Yeah, I'm coming." You sink to your knees and Pierre laughs.

"Up here." He pats his thigh with his free hand and beacons you forward. "Please."

Screw it, you've already thrown your friendship out the window. This night ended either in heartbreak or awkwardness, might as well get your money's worth.

A few whoops break out above the music. The bassline isn't the only thing thundering in your chest as you straddle Pierre's thighs, hands braced on his chest.

"Okay?" Pierre whispers for your ears only. You nod with what you hope is a charming smile.

"Alright move," Max says, shooing you back until you're resting on your haunches. Max flicks the cap off the bottle and you grab it to take a long sip.

Max gapes at you and you wipe a hand over your mouth. "Close your mouth, you'll catch flies."

Pierre's thighs tense beneath you in response to your bold declaration. Dozens of Pierre's friends and team members gather around. For all you care, Pierre is the only person in the room.

"Last chance to back out," Max warns. You're too busy tracking the drop of liquid that falls from the neck of the bottle to splash onto the crease of Pierre's abs to bother responding.

"Pour it out." Pierre's chest sinks with his demand, doing nothing but sparking your imagination, creating images of him heaving beneath you. You'd sell your soul to recreate the way you're currently poised above Pierre's hips with a little less clothing and no audience.

Max gives up hope on you replying and dribbles the alcohol up Pierre's abdomen, stopping just below his pecks.

"Have at 'er-"

Your tongue is on Pierre's skin before Max has finished his sentence. You feel the muscle tense beneath your tongue, going rigid at the first contact. The burn of the vodka doesn't even register as you lap it up, catching the drips that fall over his sides.

You aren't sure either of you is breathing. Salty sweat mingles with the sharpness of the alcohol, an afterthought barely worth mentioning.

Blame the liquid courage or blame the high from Pierre's win, but you were confident Pierre was enjoying this just as much as you.

Planting a hand on Pierre's hip, you steal a glance up at him to find him locked on you. You take that as permission to continue, dragging your tongue flat up his stomach and continuing well past where the vodka had been poured. Up between his pecks, over the curve of his throat that bobs beneath your tongue, over his chin until you meet his lips, already parted and waiting.

Neither of you pay the shouts cresting around you any heed. You've both waited too long for this, endured too many almosts and what ifs to let the opportunity slip through your fingers. Your sticky hands cradle Pierre's face, angling it in a way that's to your liking so you can explore more of his mouth. He tastes like whiskey and mint, the juxtaposition of hot and cold scattering your thoughts. One of Pierre's hands finds the nape of your neck when you gasp for air, refusing to let you end the moment.

And it's pure, unending bliss that floods your veins when he nips at your lower lip, swollen and surely reddened from his kiss. His thumb sweeps across the back of your neck while you both fight to catch the breath currently evading you.

Daydreams didn't hold a candle to the real thing. One taste and you were addicted, craving as much as Pierre was willing to give.

"Hey," he murmurs, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a stupidly gorgeous smile.

"That was nice," you tease, tangling your fingers in the silky blond strands of his hair. "I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again."

"Me too. Maybe somewhere where it's just us though. I wouldn't want to scandalize my team any further." You manage to steal another sweet peck before Max hauls you off Pierre.

"Fucking finally," Daniel says, clapping when you're upright again. "Do you know how long I've been trying to orchestrate this? The two of you really are dumber than a box of rocks. I can't believe all it took was Max suggesting body shots to get you two to kiss."

The arm that wraps around your waist feels right. Pierre hasn't hugged you like this before, with his chin resting on your shoulder and his nose nuzzling your neck, but it already feels like home.

Pierre ignores Max completely in favor of pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear. "Why don't we go back to my room? I'll pour more alcohol on myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

You're just about to take him up on the offer when one of his team members taps his shoulder. He glances at them impatiently, which the man thankfully doesn't take personally.

"They want some photos with you holding your trophy," he explains, handing a shirt and the star shaped interpretation of the Italian flag to Pierre. "It will only take a few minutes, they promised not to keep you long."

Of course everyone knew exactly where your minds were. Sanity had long since left the premises, tangled up in crisp white sheets. Pierre's entire team and half the Red Bull garage had seen what had gone down while the prix winner was sprawled on that coffee table. There would be no chance of denying it in the morning.

And while you'd never imagined that the first time you'd kiss your best friend would be directly preceded by licking copious amounts of shitty liquor off his super-heated skin, now that you'd experienced it any other way seems forgettable.

Pierre sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, I already have my trophy, but…" your stomach lurches when you realize he means you. Pierre catches the way your mouth hangs open and he shoots you a grin before accepting the real trophy.

"You carry it," he says, not giving you much of a choice as he thrusts it into your hands. "I'm occupied."

You're about to point out that his hands are, in fact, free and that the more likely reason for insisting you carry the trophy was his usual post-race laziness when he slings an arm around your shoulders and tucks you tight to his side.

"Is this okay?" Pierre asks when you involuntarily stiffen. God, it was more than okay, it was perfect, it had just caught you by surprise. You'd only kissed him a handful of minutes ago and Pierre was already wrapped around your finger, smitten as if you'd been a couple for years.

"Yeah no, it's perfect. Simply lovely," you say quickly, stumbling over your words.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Your answer comes in the form of a hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. You prop the trophy on your hip and smile up at your race winner.

"You don't have to ask that ever again. My answer is always yes."

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly oneshot #pierre gasly x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 rpf #f1 #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 rpf

262 notes · View notes

wonder-kid-pugh · 4 years ago

Text

Karma's a bitch - (Emily Sonnett x reader)

This one is slightly different. Reader is a YouTuber with a popular channel called On The Wildside. The chapter switches behind let's say "real life" and then to "recorded clips". So it might be a bit weird and difficult but hopefully it makes sense. Hope you enjoy!!!

"What! Is! Up! My Wilders! Welcome back to the Wildside" I say my intro as I hold up my camera to record myself. I smirk as I spin around as I continue, "And for today's video you are going to see me get my revenge on my girlfriend!"

Along with being a personal trainer for high paying clients, I also run a popular lifestyle and fitness Channel on YouTube which had amassed over a million followers. I usually posted fitness videos and just daily lifestyle vlogs along with soccer challenges with the occasional prank video. It was through my channel I had actually met my girlfriend.

I had gotten in touch with the Portland Thorns to do a video with them for my channel as part of a series I had started, aiming to play all of the NWSL teams in a series of challenges. And she just happened to be one of the players involved in the video.

She was also the one who hit me in the back of the head with a miss kicked soccer ball.

And that's how I met Emily Sonnett.

After that day we kept in touch and with me going to watch her games with the thorns and even meeting up again to do a few more videos with the national team until she eventually asked me out, with much persuasion from her teammates.

And now we have been together for a long time just managing with the long distance. Until she got traded to Washington. And while she was sad to not be at the thorns, on the upside we got to move in together.

Which had both it's positives and negatives.

"So if you have seen the most recent videos or even my Instagram posts. You will know that Em has kinda gone mad with the pranks lately. She got me at Christmas with wrapping my entire office with wrapping paper".

*Emily fumbles with the camera before it eventually focuses on her face*

She gives the camera a toothy smile, "Hey guys!" She starts to walk around causing the camera to blur slightly but can just make our the main image. "So obviously Y/n isn't here today. She's out with a client at the moment and won't be back until later. So I decided to help her get into the Christmas spirit with a little prank".

Flips the camera to show Y/n's office. "So with the help of a few friends" .

*pans the camera to show Kelley and a few other teammates*

"We're going to wrap everything in her room with wrapping paper!"

*Time lapse fast forwarded to show them wrapping her entire room*

"So Y/n is after texting me saying she'll be home soon and she is bringing me dinner which almost makes me feel bad". Emily pauses and looks down the camera, "Almost". She grins at the camera, "So I'm going to set up one of her cameras in her office to film her reaction and yeah hopefully she's like it". She cackles before it transitions to the next clip.

*Shows a clip of Y/n walking into her office only to freeze in the doorway when she sees the room*

Y/n throws her head back with a groan, "Emily!" You can hear the sound of Emily laughing in the background before she appears in the doorway with a wide grin across her face.

"Merry Christmas!" The blonde giggles as Y/n picks up a book that was wrapped. Y/n quirked an eyebrow at her, "You got me everything I already own?" The camera shakes slightly due to her nodding and laughing, "You get the gift of opening them all over again?" Y/n sighs before she spots something spherical over the in the corner.

"You wrapped my exercise ball? How?"

"With great difficulty"

Y/n licks her lips too tired to even argue. She tears off the wrapping paper off the chair before sitting down. She groans with her head in her hands before looking up at the blonde holding the camera.

"I hate you so much"

"I love you too".

She slumps in her chair as she looks around the room. "I'm too tired to do anything about this" . She glares back at the blonde, "Why would you even do this?" "Cause I love you?" In response to that Y/n scrunches up the wrapping paper into a ball and throws it at her.

"I'm still pissed at her for that by the way. She used all our wrapping paper and it took me forever to find my stuff she moved" Y/n sighs into the camera. "She also put a load of plastic cups filled with water around our bedroom while I was sleeping. But that ended up backfiring on her".

*A fast forwarded time lapse of Emily covering the floor of their bedroom with cups of water as well as any flat surfaces so Y/n couldn't climb on anything. She holds up 3 fingers and counts down to the camera before blowing an air horn causing Y/n to shot up in the bed*

Y/n peaks her head out from under the blanket only to see Emily giggling with the camera. She looks around confused before spoting all the cups. She groans loudly, "For fuck sake Em". She narrows her eyes at the blonde, "You have way too much free time if this is what your doing".

Y/n grabs a few of the cups and purposely empties them over Emily's stuff. "Hey!" The blonde shouts but Y/n just gives her a look, "What? You come in here and stop me? Be my guest". Emily groans dramatically, "I didn't think this through".

"Did you even think at all?"

"Hurtful"

Y/n clears a few of the cups without making too much of a mess. She sighs as she rubs her eyes, "It's too early for this shit Emily". She points at the defender holding the camera, "I hope you know your cleaning this shit up". Emily chuckles behind the camera.

Y/n looks up on the doorframe where her pull up bar is stuck. She looks between herself and the bar before smirking. "Y/n don't-" Emily starts but it falls on deaf ears. As Y/n bends her knees and make the long jump and grabs onto the bar. Her momentum swings her forward to where Emily is standing.

*In an attempt to soften the hit, Y/n wraps her legs around her waist making sure she doesn't fall. But in doing so she dropped the camera with a grunt causing the screen to blackout*

"And one of the worst ones was when she went away for a match and hid a bunch of alarm clocks around our bedroom which were all set to different times in the morning. Leaving me to wake up every little while to find the bloody things".

*Short clips of Y/n sleeping in the dark bedroom only for an alarm clock to blare causing Y/n to jolt in her sleep. This repeats multiple times showing different clips*

"And ever since then she's has also throw flour bombs at me, woke me up by pouring water all over me and she turned the hallway outside our bedroom into a slip and slide.

*Shows brief clip of Y/n slipping and falling on her ass*

"So I've decided to give her a taste of her own medicine!" Y/n exclaims to the camera. "So she's coming back late from a game tonight so I'm going to set up a few cameras and pretend to be mad at her and tell her I'm sleeping in the living room".

Y/n smirks at the camera, "One thing you need to know about Emily Sonnett is she loves her cuddles. Especially after a game. She's like a fricken Koala when she sleeps. She just clings onto you". She moves to set the camera down so it has a clear view of the bedroom, "And this is going to set up for my main prank for tomorrow".

"So I'm going to go set up everything. And wait until she gets home". Y/n gives a thumbs up to the camera before it times skips.

*Time has passed to show it's pretty late now. You can hear the jingling of keys before the door opens and closes. Y/n freezes before smiling at the camera and jumps up and starts gathering stuff*

Emily steps in the doorway and drops her bags. But scrunches her face when see her girlfriend isn't asleep and is in fact awake. "Y/n/n? What are you doing?" With an annoyed look on her face, Y/n looked over her shoulder before going back to gathering a blanket and a pillow, "I'm going to sleep in the living room".

Emily looks at her weird, "What? Why?" She moves to grab her hand but Y/n just pulls her arm away, "What's wrong?" Y/n just shrugs her off, "I'm going to sleep on the couch".

Emily crosses her arms upset as Y/n gathers up the last of her things, "Did something happen? Did I do something?" But Y/n just ignores her before shuffling out of the room. Emily curses quietly unaware that there's a camera in the room and that this is all a prank.

After a long sigh Emily pulls out her phone and dials quickly before holding it up to her ear. After a brief minute she starts starting

"Hey Kel did I forget an anniversary?"

*Cuts to the camera set up in their living room which is facing their couch. Y/n has a make shift bed set up as she's scrolling through her phone before she untangles herself from the blankets leaving to go to the bathroom*

After Y/n leaves a minute later you can shuffling off camera before Emily wrapped in blankets comes into view. She pauses at the couch before she jumps and flops on the couch making sure she's wrapped up in her blanket. Completely unknown that this is getting caught on camera.

A few minutes later Y/n comes back with her phone in hand. It swaps to her phones point of view as it shows a close up of Emily's face peaking out from the bundle of blanket. "What are you doing?" Y/n asked desperately trying to fight the small smile coming to her face. But Emily just smiles cutely up at her, "We're sleeping in the living room". Y/n groans quietly, "Noooo". But Emily just keeps smiling, "Together". Y/n shakes her head, "No. I am".

But Emily just ignores her and pulls the blanket back and nods towards her, "C'mon!" Y/n just sighs, "Kay fine. You sleep here and I'll sleep in the bed". Emily almost falls out of the bed trying to stop her, "Nooooo".

They have a mini staring competition before it cuts to the next frame where the two are seen cuddling on the couch with Emily lying on top of Y/n's chest.

"Okay! So last night's prank didn't go exactly how I planned" Y/n starts as she's back holding the camera. "BUT! I have something else planned!" She exclaims.

"So last night was really just meant for her to think I'm mad at her for some reason or another. Which sets up today's prank perfectly" she explains. "So I'm sure many of you have seen this one already but I'm going to put my own twist on it".

"So Emily and Kelley have gone out to train together today and then they're going to come back here to hang out" Y/n starts before smiling down at the camera, "but I'm going to pretend to just come out of the shower". She grins, "Well.... you'll see what happens".

*Camera cuts a clip of the kitchen where Emily and Kelley are. Emily is on her phone by the island while Kelley is looking through their fridge (obviously). Y/n walks in with a towel wrapped tightly around her*

Y/n walks around for a bit before Emily looks up and smiles before going back to her phone. It takes a second before Emily does a double take, eyes widen when she realizes that Y/n is supposedly only walking around in a towel.

"Y/n!" Emily gawked causing Kelley to look over and snort at the sight. Y/n just looks at her girlfriend unbothered, "What?" Emily just looks her up and down motioning to her lack of attire, "Uh!" "What?" Y/n asks frustratedly. "What are you doing?" Emily asked while Kelley just watched on amused.

"Nothing!" Y/n throws her hands up. "Get dressed" Emily says. "Why?" Y/n asks nonchalantly. "Your in a towel!" Emily says angrily. "So what?" Y/n just retorts. "Cause we have company!" Emily argues motioning to Kelley standing at the fridge who just holds her hands up in surrender.

Y/n just shrugs, "So what? It's only Kelley. She doesn't care". "I care! Only I get to see you like this!" Emily shouts angrily. Y/n runs a hand through her hair, "I don't see the problem I'm covered! I'm covered". "I don't care go get changed" Emily says sternly which is a bit weird to see from her usual happy, upbeat persona.

"She's not bothered by it" Y/n defends herself motioning her arm in Kelley's direction. "I'm bothered by it!" Sonnet claps back getting even angrier, "just go put something on".

Hiding her smirk Y/n progresses with the prank, "You know what? You know what? No. Now this". Y/n then turns her back to her girlfriend as she faces Kelley who's eyes widen substantially as Y/n untucks the towel still holding the ending with her hands.

Catching onto the joke, Kelley bursts our laughing which only fuels Emily's rage further as she stands there stunned that her girlfriend would do such a thing. "This is happening" Y/n says throwing a look back at Emily over her shoulder. "Y/n! That's not-" Emily stutters out trying to find the words.

"She's seen me like this before and so have you" Y/n says as Kelley is still gasping for breath as she laughs. "What are you-" Emily starts only to stop when Y/n drops the towel to reveal one of Y/n's dresses which she has pulled down the sleeves to hide underneath the towel.

Emily's jaw drops as Kelley falls into another fit of giggles as she leans against the island. "Gotcha!" Y/n grins. Emily's mouth opened and closed several times but no words came out as she just stuttered unintelligently, "Uh I um?" Y/n moves to pick up the camera and hold it in front of Emily, "Say Hi to the internet Babe".

If at all possible, Emily's cheeks flushed even darker, "You recorded all this?!" Y/n hummed contently, "And last night". Emily leans back against the island and slides down to the floor, "Last night! That was a prank?" Y/n giggles, "Yup!" Emily slumps back, "Thank god! I thought you were pissed at me! I thought I forgot an anniversary or something!"

There is some shuffling and a bit of blurry imagines before it shows Y/n sitting on the ground beside Emily as she grins, "Nah. Just payback for all the pranks you've pulled on me recently". Emily buried her face in her girlfriend's shoulder letting out a small, "I'm sorry" although it came out muffled.

Y/n leans her cheek on Emily's head, "It's okay. But just remember next time you prank me, remember how I got you back". "Emily pouted at her girlfriend, "Fine. No more pranks". Y/n smiled as she pressed a kiss to the top of her blonde crown. But of course Kelley had to interrupt.

"If there is ever a prank war, I'm calling Y/n for my team".

Emily growled at her teammate as she koala hugged her girlfriend's side, "No!" Y/n giggled as she shrugged at Kelley, "Sorry Kels I'm taken". "Damn right you are" Emily mumbles as she presses herself even further into Y/n's embrace.

Y/n smiled as she holds up the camera, "Well that's it for my revenge pranks back on my girlfriend. If you want to see the full videos of Emily's pranks on me, I'll leave them in the description. Comment below for any videos you would like to see". "No more prank videos" Emily whined at the camera causing the other two to laugh before Y/n finished her outro. "Well that's it for now. Until next time. Peace out Wilders!"

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #emily sonnett x reader #emily sonnett imagines #emily sonnett #emily fields imagine #uswnt

240 notes · View notes

doctorstethoscope · 4 years ago

Text

The Whole Time || A. Hotchner x Fem!Reader

It’s @ssahotchswife ‘s soft hotch saturday again bitches. u know the drill.

Summary: Aaron decides to make some happier memories in New York

Contains: fluff, alcohol consumption, law-breaking but not the kind anyone cares about, canon-typical descriptions of kidnapping, author taking creative liberties with the geography of New York City

word count: 1.7k

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when you watch the child you’d saved from an attempted kidnapping rush into his mother’s waiting arms. The most recent case had brought the team to New York City, for a kidnapping that was ultimately linked to a trafficking ring. You’d recovered a dozen kids of all ages, but Charlotte, the child you’d been called on the case for originally, was finally with her parents again, and you could rest, and rest easy, knowing that you’d saved them.

Spencer and JJ were already taking apart the team’s whiteboard in the conference room. Aaron was off making a call, and you spotted Derek and Emily fussing with the coffee pot in the NYPD’s break room. You started clearing off the table, preparing for your swift exit, and hopefully a night at home with Aaron and Jack.

“Jet leaves tomorrow at 8AM.” Aaron announces when he enters the conference room.

“We’re not leaving this afternoon?” JJ asked.

“We had to shut the airports down to stop the unsubs. LaGuardia is a mess trying to get all of today’s rescheduled flights out, and it seemed better to give you all a day in the city than to sit on the tarmac for eight hours. But if you want me to call them back--”

“Ah, ah, I think what JJ meant to say is first round on her tonight.” Morgan corrected and the team let out a laugh.

“Well, I for one, am overdue for some self care in the form of a little blue box.” Emily said, already pulling up walking directions to Tiffany’s.

“Oh, can we go to Saks, too!” JJ asked, peering over Emily’s shoulder.

You crossed the room to slide beside Aaron. The team knew that you were together, but for professionalism’s sake, you tried to make sure any local teams you worked with couldn’t tell, which meant you had to be very careful about your PDA.

“So… a day in New York, huh?” You looked up at him, and he smiled at you.

“I think I’m just gonna take some time and work on my report so it’s done when we get in tomorrow. You should go shopping with the girls.” He tells you, and you squint up at him.

“You okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he assures you with a little nod and a quirk of his brow that doesn’t leave you feeling very assured at all.

“I know New York isn’t your favorite place. You don’t have a lot of happy memories here,” you understated.

“Well, today’s not all that bad.” He winks at you. “Go shop. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you used the money your parents sent you for your birthday on Jack.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“It’s all the same money once it gets into the account, babe. I don’t feel deprived of anything. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you went way overboard with my presents this year.” You remind him with a smirk.

“No such thing,” he said, taking a risk and pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. The case was done now, anyways. “Have fun with the girls. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back. You’d better have more bags than you can carry.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You rolled your eyes at him playfully as he gave you a gentle shove towards JJ and Emily. You took a couple steps over to where they were planning the rest of their afternoon. “Mind if I crash?” You asked.

“We were planning on stealing you away from Hotch regardless of whether or not you asked, so this seems easier,” Emily tells you and you laugh.

“I need coffee before we do anything. Real, not-police-station coffee.” JJ moans out, and you drag her out the door in the direction of the nearest Starbucks.

You’re headed back to the hotel after some shopping when Emily mentions a detour through Central Park. The air is warm, and contrary to Aaron’s orders, your bags aren’t all that heavy, so you’re happy to oblige her. You’re distracted, following JJ’s lead as you breathe in the smell of the flowers and appreciate the life of the city, the simplicity of all these people who have no clue about the international kidnapping scheme you and your team had taken down not even four hours ago. Emily and JJ come to a stop and you look between them. They gesture to a tree not far off from your path. Aaron’s underneath it, a blanket beneath him and a picnic basket on the ground beside him. He stands up and makes his way towards you.

“Did you two know about this?’ You ask, looking back and forth between Emily and JJ, betrayed but not at all angry.

“He texted us and asked if we could covertly get you here, but other than that we knew nothing.” JJ assured you. You’re about to pressure Emily for more answers, but Aaron makes his way to you.

“Hi angel,” He tells you, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“Hi.” You smile at him. “When did you have time to do all of this? You said you were working on your report.”

He shrugged. “I lied. If you want to yell at me, I’ll allow it, but let’s not make Emily and JJ watch.” He teases.

You’d forgotten that they were even there. They both gave you hugs goodbye before taking off, and Aaron took your hand in his to lead you back to the blanket he’d set up on a slight hill, overlooking a bit of the park.

“I figured it was time to make some happy memories in the city.” He tells you, beckoning you to sit. You do, scooting your way next to him so that your thighs were touching. He leans forward for the basket and procures a chilled bottle of white wine and a small package of red solo cups.

“Aaron Hotchner, are you drinking in public?” You asked incredulously.

“I figure the NYPD’ll give us a pass, just this once.” He says, uncorking the bottle and pouring modest glasses into two cups for you both.

You raised your glass to his. “To happier memories.”

He connected his cup to your own but leaned in to kiss you before you could take a sip. “I love you,” he reminds you between kisses, and you smile. To anyone else in the park, especially from a distance, you two must have looked like crazy twenty-somethings freshly in love. Sometimes you felt like that, too.

He pulls away from you, after a moment. “I love you.” You say, taking your free hand and wrapping it around Aaron’s arm, pulling him in and resting your head on his shoulder.

He places a hand on your thigh and turns his head to leave a kiss on top of yours. “We don’t do this enough.”

“No amount of time with you could ever be enough,” you concur. “But we get out as often as we can. We’re busy, Aaron, and we have a son.”

His heart warmed when you referred to Jack as your own-- it wasn’t the first time you’d done it, not by a long shot, and he’d known even before you started calling him yours that you’d risk life and limb for him. So why hadn’t he asked you yet? Why hadn’t he pulled the ring out of his sock drawer and made it official?

“A son who I see you’ve spoiled, when I specifically told you to go shopping for yourself.” He teased you, changing the subject in his own brain and gesturing to the FAO Schwarz bag in your collection.

“It’s just a couple comic books, Aaron. It’s reading material, it hardly counts as a gift.” You defended, knowing there was no need.

“Sure,” He chuckles at you, concealing his grin with a sip of wine.

He pulls a small plate of cut fruit out of the basket, and you talk and eat and giggle and settle in to each other to watch the sunset. He’s leaning back against the tree, his legs spread so you can lean against his chest and sit between them, his arms wrapped around you from behind. The setting sun has allowed a slight chill to settle into the air, but the weight of his body wrapped around yours keeps you warm.

“Aaron?” You ask, not daring to tear your eyes away from the cascading pinks and purples of the sky in front of you.

“Hm?” He asks.

“Do you think you’d want more?” You ask, internally cringing at your own vulnerability, hoping you hadn’t ruined an otherwise perfect evening.

“More wine?” He asked, unwrapping a hand from you to look for his cup.

You let out a nervous little laugh. “No, hon. I, uh. I meant more kids. Sorry, didn’t mean to spring that on you, it was just on my mind. You don’t have to answer.”

“Only if they’re yours,” he replies, and you’re confused.

“Huh?” You ask.

“I only want more kids if they’re yours.” He reiterates, craning to look at you a little. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asked.

“Well, you know, it doesn’t hurt to hear, regardless.” You responded, a little breathless. You turned to face him.

“Silly girl,” He smiled at you. “I only want you. I want you and our future together, and our babies, if we are to have any, and I want to keep making you smile for the rest of my life. And if I have that, I’ll be happy.” He states simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, as if he’d known it all along. He suspects that deep down, he has.

“Sounds like a pretty good life you’ve dreamed up for yourself, there.” You smile at him, just happy to be included.

“Yeah, I think so.” He agrees, giving you a squeeze.

“You know, you’re gonna have to marry me before I let you knock me up,” you inform him with a laugh.

“Working on it,” He tells you, and you roll your eyes.

“Sure you are,” you counter, and he kisses your temple.

“It’s coming when you least expect it. Like an action movie. You’d better watch out.” He whispers against you, and you laugh, the sound vibrating through your chest and warming him from the inside out.

“You’re missing the sunset, silly boy.” You reminded him.

He’d been looking at you the whole time, anyways.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #hotch x reader fic #hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #soft Hotch Saturday #soft hotch #soft hotch rights

388 notes · View notes

mctherofdragons · 4 years ago

Text

A Sanctuary Heart | 3 | SR

summary / after her abusive husband lands her in the intensive care unit, y/n changes her identity and moves as far away as possible. upon starting her new life, she meets dr.spencer reid and his son, maddox, when she begins her job as a teacher. but can she keep herself safe and keep up the facade with spencer? can she be safe at all?

pairing / spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings / slowburn romance, fluff, angst, marriage, trauma, domestic violence/abuse, dad!spencer, wheelchair use, paralysis, injury, ptsd flashbacks, car accident/serious injury, bullying, mention of ableism, a singular mention of god.

important links / series masterlist + domestic violence resources

authors note / i absolutely adored writing this chapter, omg. we get more of spencer and maddox's backstory. and things start to get a little more exciting as the rest of the team makes their first appearance! thank you all for the great feedback so far, i'm so glad you're enjoying the series. also my tags are not working, so reblogs on this chapter would be insanely appreciated. Flashbacks are in italics!

Seeing the blood on your hand, Spencer instinctively reached out to grab your wrist gently. You snatched your hand back, bringing yourself up to your feet, wobbling. You grabbed your bag, wrapping your hand in your scarf that you had managed to take off in the cool October night.“Ivy,” he said the moniker one more time and you felt your insides reel once more.

‘I’m a liar, Dr. Reid, I wish you knew,’ you thought to yourself, stumbling to search for your keys under the warm glow of the moon.

“I have to go. Thank you for dinner,” you contended, making your way out of the side gate. Spencer watched in confusion as you made your way out quickly. He figured he ought to chose his battles, not wanting to startle you by following after you.

Once you were safe inside your car, you sat in the driver’s seat, hands gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. You felt a sharp combination of embarrassment and frustration. You wanted the flit of light that came from the possibility of new love. But instead, the one before had taken everything from you. Even now, all these miles and a new name away, he was pulling you away from those little flickers of brilliance and back into the darkness of yourself.

_____________________________

2 years earlier.

“Maddox,” Spencer whispered, feeling his heavy eyelids open just slightly. He was disoriented, noticing that the once right-side-up roadway was now upside down instead. The loud blaring of the horn was constant. It sent a piercing sound into Spencer’s ears and head, which caused him to wince. “Maddox.”

Spencer tried to turn, but he couldn’t move. Something had him pinned in the driver’s seat. He looked into the review mirror, which by grace alone wasn’t entirely broken. Maddox was slumped in his car seat, blood trickling down onto his Toy Story tee shirt. Spencer let out a weak gasp, trying again with no avail to move.

Spencer noticed how cold it was. It had been snowing all night, and Spencer wasn’t sure how long they had been where they are now. The snow had fallen through the shattered glass, tiny flakes gathering anywhere they could.

Using all of his strength, he turned his head to his wife. Her eyes were half shut, a trickle of crimson come from her mouth.

“Baby,” Spencer whispered. “Are you alright?”

She began to speak, but began to sputter, her lungs sounding flooded. Her hand curled and uncurled, and Spencer could barely reach it. He was able to hold onto her fingertips with his. They felt ice-cold like she was already three steps into Eternity. Spencer knew that type of frigid touch. He had come in content with it a million times, and the person on the other end was never living.

“D-don’t talk, baby. Okay? The ambulance is coming. Do you hear them? We’re going to be okay.”

Spencer could hear the medics somewhere far off in the distance. The repeated echo of the sirens sounded like a band of angels to him. Spencer Reid admittedly didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian God. He wasn’t sure what he gave credence to, in fact. But at that moment, inverted in the shattered glass, surrounded by the labored breathing of his dying wife...he prayed.

________________________________

Spencer walked into the Bureau, adjusting the brown satchel on his shoulder. His brow looked furrowed as he sipped from his paper coffee cup. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you left, trying to profile what exactly had gone wrong between the Merlot and you rushing out of his backyard.

“Penny for your thoughts?,” Emily piqued as Spencer sat down, tossing his bag onto his desk. Spencer let out an exasperating sigh, taking another drink of his coffee.

“Just trying to figure someone out.”

“Oh, oh, oh. Is this a lady someone?,” Derek queried, wiggling his eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning onto Spencer’s desk with a sparkling grin.

“Maybe.”

Spencer felt himself smiling despite his best efforts. Emily opened her mouth in surprise, giving Derek a playful shove.

“I told you he would get back out there, Morgan!”

Spencer smiled. “Yeah, she’s sweet. I just...don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

That morning, Spencer had put on his wedding band. He still did it when he was scared, or nervous, or needing to feel close to her. He would feel the cool metal atop his finger and feel less alone. For a brief moment when the metallic touched his skin, he could pretend she was still here.

Derek gave Spencer’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

“I hope you know me and Prentiss are just messing with you. We care about you, kid. We know these past two years have been hell for you. Just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah…I appreciate that. I just…,” Spencer paused, bringing his hands up as he spoke, as was so akin to him. His lip curled into the smallest smile. “Seeing this girl interact with Maddox. She...loves him for him..already?”

“Maddox is a great kid, Reid.”

“I know. I just don’t want her to find out---”

Spencer’s sentence was cut off by Hotch appeared, letting everyone know they had a case and to meet for Round Table. Spencer quickly shot a text to Maddox’s home health nurse, letting her know he’d need coverage for a few days.

________________________________

You sat in the front of your classroom, your eyes scanning from the test in front of you to the answer key. The students were working on a Social Studies project in small groups. Their task was to read a short story about colonial times and fill out a short worksheet. If they finished early they were permitted to color, which most of the children thoroughly enjoyed.

“Maddox can’t use crayons,” you heard a small voice snicker. You raised your eyebrow, hoping it wasn’t harmful, and rather just an observation.

You heard another child sling a slur at Maddox, who was sitting quietly with his aide, trying to ignore them. But as you looked up, you saw Maddox’s tiny bottom lip begin to wobble. One of the children picked up a crayon and threw it at Maddox, hitting him in the shoulder.

“He can’t even feel that! My dad said that’s why he’s in a wheelchair,” the bully jeered again, high-fiving his friend.

You stood up with a loud squeak of your chair against the linoleum floor.

“You two. Principals office. Now.”

The rest of the class erupted in a chorus of childish ‘ooo’s. You clapped your hands together - your universal signal to quiet down.

“I did not ask for comments from the audience,” you scolded. The children settled down, going back to their work, whispering amongst one another.

“Maddox, come talk to me in the hallway,” you offered. Tears were rolling down Maddox’s cheeks. His aide reached over with a tissue to wipe them, but he turned his face away, one of the only ways he could physically set a boundary.

Maddox’s aide helped him into the hallway and then left the two of you alone. You sat down on one of the small, metal benches in the hallway. At this angle, you were about Maddox’s height. He was blubbering, trying to take deep breaths as more tears came. You pulled a small, clean, cloth handkerchief from your pocket. He let you dab his cheeks, giving him a gentle click of the tongue.

“Buddy, do you want to talk about it?”

“T-they’re so m..m..mean to me,” he whimpered, closing his eyes as more tears fell. “And, and, and I can’t play with them even, that’s why. I can’t do anything!”

You nodded empathetically, gently catching more of Maddox’s tears.

“I hate school! My daddy wants me to like school. It’s all he talks about. I hate him!”

“Maddox,” you softly redirected. “That’s not very nice. You don’t hate your dad.”

Maddox looked a deep breath. You smiled, knowing Spencer must have taught him to do that when he was upset.

“You’re right. But I’m sad, and I wanna go home.”

You sighed, reaching up to blot the little bit of redness still present on Maddox’s cheeks. You adjusted his glasses, moving some of his curly brown hair from underneath the metal.

“Just a few more hours, okay? We have library at the end of the day.”

Maddox’s face lit up, his apple cheeks glowing beneath the rims of his glasses. “Library!”

“Yes, and just for this week, you can take home two books.”

______________________________

Spencer felt distracted the entire flight to Vermont. He knew he was going to be far away for a while, and that Maddox wouldn’t know until he got out of school for the day. The agent detested when he had to leave without Maddox knowing in advance, but it was usually impossible given the nature of things. Thankfully, Reid had a good setup of support through healthcare and respite so Maddox never went without someone to care for him.

Then, there was you. He couldn’t stop thinking about your reaction. He had seen it before in abuse victims. The way you flinched when he moved too fast, the apologizing like your life depended on it, even the way you looked at him with pleading eyes, desperate to avoid a blow. He bridged his fingers together, thinking to himself for a moment.

With that, he stood up, making his way to the back of the plane. He unlocked his phone while he chewed his fingernail with his free hand. Before he knew it, he was calling Garcia.

“Penelope. Hey, I need a favor. A personal one. If you could keep it between us, that would be great.”

“Anything for you, my precious string bean.”

Spencer laughed. “I need you to get all the information you can on someone. Ivy Porter.”

“Ivy Porter. That’s like a movie star name. What did she do?”

“Um..nothing, I don’t think. Just call me when you’ve got something, and email me everything you find.”

“You got it. Every in and out of Ms. Ivy Porter coming to you soon. Be safe. Talk soon.”

With that, Penelope clicked off of the call. Spencer sat back down, anxiously waiting for whatever information Penelope could find about you.

___________

series/criminal minds taglist: @hufflepuffhaze @omghufflepuff @txtdreamss @rainbows-dreams @bvttercupbby @k-k0129 @rexit-mo @britishspidey @graciehams @manuosorioh @shemarmooresfedora @big-galaxy-chaos @thatoneszesty13 @ssavanessa22 @awritingtree @sweetandsunny @rainsong01 @kuolonsyoja @taralewiz @bluelittleblackgirl @asexual-booknerd @the-wolfie

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series

131 notes · View notes

deepseavibez · 3 years ago

Text

Drowning Too Deep_2.2 || KNJ || JHS

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

-> Picture Source - Pinterest

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Drowning Too Deep [Namjoon x Hoseok x Reader]

Part 1 || Part 2 || 2.1 || 2.2 || Part 3

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Genre - Established!Boyfriend(s) au; Poly;

Summary - Alone at home, nothing but thoughts, pent up emotions, roaming fingers and a wild imagination... that is... until your boyfriends catch you in the act.

Word Count - 1.6k

🎶 - Hold On, We're Going Home - Drake, Majid Jordan

Uncharted territory. This was unchartered territory - Hoseok

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Joon was familiar. Joon and his workaholic tendencies. Joon and his interesting choice of words. Joon with his need to be responsible and logical and… Joon.

Y/n was not Joon. She worked, but played just as hard. She got his words but simplified it. She was responsible and equally as reckless. She was something Hobi couldn't imagine not being around.

It had been a while since Joon and Hobi had come out as bisexual and their relationship was known, subtle touches and handholding, stolen kisses, a normalcy. RM belonged to the stage, Joon belonged to the group, his friends and his family, Namjoon - - Namjoon was his.

Yes, sunshine was Hobi's nickname. He was optimistic and he smiled more than everyone else. The world had so much hope left, and everyone needed time to make choices, and things were meant to be. Hobi would be the first to drive that point home.

But everyone had different sides to themselves.

When the sun shined, there was always a shadow behind it. Jhope, Hoseok, Hobi, they were different people. But all had light and darkness. All agreed Y/n was his too.

It felt like weird at first, like a tendril curling around him, not only in his heart, made his eyes flash, nostrils flare, hands curl into fists in attempt to dissipate the ball tempting urge to punch the male that currently hung over Y/n.

But even Hobi wasn't completely clueless. This surge of violence he never thought himself to be capable of, had reason. A plausible one in fact. Joon was always his but Y/n, she needed to be made his.

She had choices, a few bridges to cross, a whole other life thousands of miles away from Seoul. Something solid would have him more at ease. Like the emerald cut on her left hand, that caught the light, a matching band of the same colour right next to his ring from Namjoon.

Hobi wanted to mark her. Stamp his name on her heart. Show her off to the world. Make it known that she was taken. She was shared between two men that shared only with each other.

It was new, for all of them. Hobi and Joon worked as equals, switched when required. But with Y/n something altogether different fabricated itself to them. Joon was in charge out in the world. Whereas Hobi realized he loved being in charge in their relationship.

And Y/n made things so easy; she went with the flow, got on her knees when he asked, teased because she knew it got him buzzing. She reacted to his commands, mentally and physically, moulded herself against his palm when it found the expanse of one of her buttcheeks, gave in when he growled into her ear - - she submitted, a gift she would never give anyone else.

Something ravenous awoke in Hobi that did not want to be quashed, or tamed. And it felt so right.

At home, Hobi cooked, expertly chopping up vegetables sometimes with no shirt, just to make his lovers hungry for dessert. He would put books and laptops away when it was too late, when work was too much. He didn't even bat an eye when he pulled them along to shower, stripping them of their clothes. He handed them their daily dose of coffee before they left the apartment. Hobi found them when they spiralled, Hobi pushed boundaries and limits and edged both his lovers to ecstasy, to submission. Namjoon led the front of their tightrope, Hoseok reared. Protective, possessive, rough when he needed to be.

It had everything to do with his lovers, their response to his demands, their reciprocation in feeding a side of him he grew to enjoy. He wanted them to look at his marks, where his fingers were too rough, and his teeth to hard, he wanted them to ache when they walked the next day, he needed to grab them by the throat and steal their breaths away from them with his lips.

His lovers were not easy though. Joon could top, could silently domineer, his fingers firm, his lips focused with intent, skilled in the most intimate places and he loved to play. Y/n revelled as a submissive. She knew how to get the blood rushing south in the bedroom and taking care of it innocently at first, and expertly as the time waned on. Outside of it, he couldn't be more proud of her. She may be dating two members of the group, but she made her way into the company on her own. Building herself up with experience, daring and a little more than needed independence she was her own person.

It was hard to grow accustomed to it at first. Her need to pay her bills and food. Her hours at work. Her routine between work and gym and her social life. She had friends that she texted everyday, a brother who visited and managed a side business with his I.T expertise and her social marketing know how, she held her family close to her heart and still found the most to give Joon and Hobi. She loved them without question, gave them space as they worked, was patient on tours, made long distance and close comfort worked as the need to adapt to either arose.

It was a no brainer. Why he had fallen for her. Why he'd chosen to risk it by talking to his boyfriend about it. Why he wanted her to be theirs. And there was no turning back from her, she was his, belonged to them, nothing in him would allow for any deviation from the certainty.

'Y/n, whose your friend?' Hoseok placed a hand at the small of her back and slowly curved his palm around her waist. The possessive hold was not lost on either of the receiving party.

Turning back to her friend after a subtle pointed look towards one of her boyfriends, she smiled easily, as she answered. 'Hobi, this is Julian, he works with me in California. He started leading two of my marketing teams once I transferred. Business and Publishing. He was the reason I can focus full time here.'

Julian pursed his lips, corners of his mouth curving upward in an attempt to be polite, he reached out a hand as he affirmed the introduction. 'Hobi.'

'Hoseok.' Hobi corrected firmly a cold smile gracing his features as he shook the hand of the male who still had his shoulder brushing up against his girlfriends.

The caucasian male in dark wash jeans and a black button down looked less than impressive next to Hobi's suit. But it didn't quell his energy, a comfortable air surrounding Y/n and Julian, his looks toward her more than friendly.

Looking at the hands they still had clasped, Y/n explained. 'He's visiting to update me.'

'That couldn't be done over the phone, or a zoom call.' Hobi licked his lips, and broke the handshake.

'Unfortunately, I needed to supply Y/n with information about her former departments, client confidentiality is important to us. We like to not have everything out in the open.'

This motherfucker.

Y/n's smile faltered at the underlying words. Opening her mouth to speak she was cut short as Hobi continued.

'You are obviously very capable, to be chosen to be in Y/n's position, and very trusted with your job and how you carry it out. But this is my world. Y/n is my fiance. And I assure you, Julian, she understands our lifestyle,' Hobis hand moved from Y/n's waist and followed the trail of Y/n's shoulder absently, an outward display in hold, 'so ofcourse, you don't have to.'

Julian's eyes blazed at the words thrown at him and to his credit, said nothing further.

Satisfied, Hobi pulled Y/n in for a hard kiss at her temple, whispered a soft 'Enjoy lunch' in her hair. If Y/n were in any other position she would have seen, the way Hobis eyes strayed to Julian above her head, the threat in them clear.

Pulling away, he loved how she chased him instinctively, his touch and his presence. It was a tiny movement, easily missed, unless you stood a few feet away from her.

That's my girl. His inner self preened in triumph, her reaction a proclamation to who she belonged to.

'To be so far away from your world of not-so-out-in-the-open, Julian, its not nice. You'll miss it if you don't get back soon.'

No hint of amusement this time, Hobi nodded his head instead of giving in to the urge to pull Y/n away from the male in front of him, righted his collar and scrunched his nose playfully at his fiance before being on his way.

He didn't look back. If he did, he wouldn't give her the freedom he knew she needed. He trusted her. Gave away parts of himself to her for safekeeping. Breathed as much life into her as he took away.

Y/n had been marked by his love. She had been wrapped in a blanket of Joons care. If she could navigate her way through not one but two, protective males that would use every word, every touch, their tongues to unashamedly win her over. She would handle this.

Part 1 || Part 2 || 2.1 || 2.2 || Part 3

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

#jung hoseok x you #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok #namjoon x reader #Namjoon #namjoon x you #bts fic #bts au #hoseok fanfic #namjoon fanfic

37 notes · View notes

suna-reversed · 4 years ago

Text

4 seats away

College!AU Iwaizumi x gn reader (part1/?)

Iwaizumi Hajime was an absolute mystery to you when you first met him. Despite being just 4 seats away, the distance between you seemed like oceans apart. Little did you know of just how the tides would turn to bring the two of you a little closer.

slowburn-friends to lovers-flufff

(warnings- cuss words, mentions of harassment)

a/n; this is my first ever fic so feedback would be appreciated!

Stepping onto your college campus for the first time, you felt both exhilarated and scared, but nonetheless, you were ready to take on your new life and all the adventures that it had in store for you.

On the other hand, Iwaizumi Hajime was absolutely baffled by just how much california was different from the place that he had called his home. He had expected some adjustment difficulties but still, he wouldn't have guessed the cultural shock that hit him harder than that one ball he spiked at shittykawa’s head when they were second years. His lips twitched upwards at the thought of his best friend who he was miles away from. But then his eyes moved to the mess of cardboard boxes he still had to unpack, and just like that his face was set back into it’s usual stoic expression as his shoulders slumped and he got to work.

--------

2 months into college life and it had surpassed all your expectations of the freedom you had deemed to gain as a high school student. No, you weren't going to parties every single night, spending your day away drinking booze or getting high at 2 am while listening to arctic monkeys. But you could get waffles at 2:30 am if you wished to, eat nutella straight out the jar AND play the yarichin bitch club’s theme song on the living room television and dance around with your roommates with no judgment whatsoever.

Who was there to judge you after all anyways?

Unfortunately, that carefree attitude crumbled to dust as you walked out your class, absentmindedly texting your friend, and immediately slammed into what seemed like a walking brick wall. It took you 3.5 seconds to hear the clutter of the books and stationery the stranger was carrying to fall onto the floor, and another second to snap back to reality. You hurriedly bent down and hastily gathered the mess while a string of almost incoherent apologies left your mouth. Realising the lack of response from the mystery person, you snapped your head up wondering if you may have given them a concussion with just how hard you knocked into each other. Instead, you were met with honey brown orbs peering down at you from a face as cold as ice. You didn't even realise how hard you were staring until the unknown boy bent down, taking the items from your hands gently and gathering the rest from the floor. His husky but tender voice snapped you of your trance. He seemed to murmur an apology before slightly bowing and then stopping halfway as if he caught himself doing something wrong. Another “sorry” and a slight nod was all you got before he walked away.

That was your first encounter with what seemed to be an ever perplexing and mysterious boy. Fortunately, it wasn't the last.

---------

The next time you saw him was on the bus on your way to the cafe where you worked part-time. You didn’t realise his presence until you felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head with an intensity hard enough to cut through stone. As you turned your head around, your eyes locked onto each other. He was standing around 4 seats away from you, partially blocked by a middle aged man talking loudly on his phone. Instinctively, you waved at him with an awkward smile. To your surprise, he raised his hand back in greeting while giving you a slight nod. Just then, your pressed smile turned into a genuine one as the distance of those 4 seats seemed to lessen just a bit.

-------

Since then, you had learned a little bit more about him. He had a class right next to yours. He didn't seem to interact much with too many people, but was always polite to everyone and had one constant friend who he was most often seen with. He was somehow also extremely oblivious to his popularity amongst the girls he had classes with (they had given him the title of the “mysterious hot foreign boy”). You truly questioned that when you once saw him try to baby talk to a cat while waiting for the bus, only for the cat to poke him right in the eye with its paw, leading to a very awkward 5 minutes of you asking him if he was okay and him reassuring you he was even though his eye twitched every two seconds.

------

It was just another regular day for you travelling back from work. You had gotten onto the bus, followed your daily routine of acknowledgement given and received with “that one guy from college”, and went along your business bobbing your head along to the song you were listening to on your earphones. The bus was oddly crowded that day for a late afternoon in the middle of the week. Your senses seemed to heighten a little as you felt a tall figure enter your personal bubble. You tried to move around, but the task proved to be a little too difficult with the crowd and a seat right next to you blocking your way. A single road bump was all that was needed for the stranger to further invade your space as they pressed up against you, a hand slowly inching up your hip. Your breath hitched in your throat as you looked around with a panic filled expression, your eyes locking onto a pair of almond orbs you had grown too familiar with.

It didn't even take Hajime a second to read your terror filled eyes and look down to realise the situation. And before he knew it, he was pushing through the crowd and physically placing himself right between you and the man.

“Is there a problem?” he asked in an ever threatening tone to the man who was currently chuckling nervously as he cowarded away from Hajime's terrifying build. The man stuttered out an incoherent string of words that you were too shaken up to register before Hajime took one frightening step towards him, sending him scrambling away as far as possible in the stuffed bus.

Hajime turned towards you, intending to move a step away from you to give you the much needed space. But before he could do that, he felt something tug onto the fabric of his jacket. Looking down, he saw your fist bundling up the corner of his jacket and he could have sworn he felt the sound of his heart break a little as he looked up to see a tear fall from your eyes as you sniffed slightly.

“Hey, it's alright. Your name’s y/n right? You’re safe now y/n.”

You were still too shaken up to wonder how he came to know your name or to even answer when he asked you if he should walk you back to your college dorm building. He took your fragile state as a yes as he simply signalled you to walk before him with a light tap to your arm when your stop came. You both walked in silence with you leading the way. When you reached right outside your dorm buidling, you finally looked up at him to thank him, only to see the smallest of smiles grace his lips as his eyes slightly darted down in between you two to where you still held onto his jacket. Your eyes widened as you realised you had never let go of it. That caused a small chuckle out of the usually stoic faced brunette. You found yourself letting out a nervous laugh as you pulled your hand away.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realise it. And also sorry for the extra journey you had to make. I honestly don't know how to thank you for what you just di-”

“It’s really not a problem. Besides, anyone would have done that. I just hope you are okay?”

---------

The ice between you and Hajime hadn't been a slow process of thawing and melting. Instead, it had come crashing down and swept away as if in a thunderstorm. From that day onwards, Hajime himself had taken the initiative to cross the everlasting distance of those 4 seats between you. Small talks while standing next to each other soon enough turned into dying of laughter as Hajime made stupid faces at the baby in the arms of the woman in front, or the time you sneaked in a wholeass tub of ben and jerry’s and shared it with him right in front of the “no-food” sign on the bus.

You learned something new about him almost everyday. He was majoring in sports science. He used to play volleyball in high school. He has a best friend who currently plays volleyball in a professional team in argentina. The said best friend also blames himself for why they did not go to nationals as third years even though that is absolutely not the case. Not that Hajime would ever tell him that. Hajime sometimes has extremely soft moments when you’re texting late at night, thus leading to appreciative conversations about his best friend. Not that he would ever address him as that on a regular day, instead opting for shittykawa or trashykawa and many other terms, that, as pointed by you, seemed to be getting lazier by the day on a creative level. At this point, you’re sure you know his best friend more than he knows himself.

Anyways, back to Hajime; he’s weirdly good at carnival games (much proven by his 5 time winning streak over you in the bucket toss). He always ends up choosing the dinosaur plushie as his prize (you now have an ever increasing collection of dinosaur plushies by your bed).

He loves staying healthy and learned how to make all his favourite foods from back home in the first two months of coming to Cali. His favourite being agedashi tofu, which he now has to make for you at least once a week since you have been obsessed with it ever since you first tried it from his plate (he acts like he’s pissed about it but low key loves seeing how your face lights up whenever you see him with a lunchbox in front your class). He’s very attentive to whatever you say or do and will happily watch your favourite anime/movie/show as long as you're willing to watch all the godzilla movies with him.

There is still so much to learn for you to learn about Hajime, and you are more than willing and ready to do so. However, there are a few things that you don’t know of and Hajime would like to keep it that way. Like how he looks over at you with such tenderness in his eyes while you’re laughing at a video of puppies falling over, or how his heart swells with joy whenever you get on your tiptoes to fix his hair, or how sometimes he’ll catch your face just right in the sunlight and suddenly he’ll feel like everything would fall apart if he so much as breathes too loud. But you’d always snap him out of it by poking your tongue out at him while making the silliest of faces and he’d flick your nose in response, and once again he’d ground himself into the moment, simply enjoying the fact that you exist, you’re here, and you’re with him. He mentally thanks himself for crossing those 4 seats that led him to being this close to you almost every other day. But he wonders if he’ll ever be able to get past his cowardice and admit that maybe he wants you to be just a little bit more closer.

116 notes · View notes

sazc94 · 4 years ago

Text

Bad Idea, a Bucky Fanfic

A/N Sensitive themes including injury, smut and kidnapping/suggestions of abuse. 18+ Also I'm still new at this so any feedback is appreciated.

Requested by @lannycleave

Prologue Part 2

Words: 3153

Part 1

6 Months ago: NYC Avengers Tower.

You rocked up to the tower with a duffle bag, Natasha had text you to say they had a mission for you, and it would be a 3 day one so to bring clothes. You were an agent of S.H.E.I.L.D not an Avenger. That being said Sometimes when agents were needed you got to go along on their missions thanks to your Friendship with Miss Romanoff and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers. The rest of the time you were on your own missions or helping to train new recruits.

“Hey Y/N, long time no see, did Mr. Roboto scare you off” Joked Sam as he clapped you on your back. You weren’t as good as FitzSimmons when it came to tech, but you held your own, you’d recently helped Sam with some upgrades to Red Wing, that was when you’d been introduced to The Winter Soldier, Sargent Bucky Barnes. You couldn’t help but stare at him when you met him, he was just so, well hot to put it bluntly.

Of course, he had barely acknowledged your existence other than polite conversation before he got called away to a mission.

“Ha, if anyone was going to scare me off it would be you with your creepy obsession with red wing” you winked at Sam before taking a bite of the apple you had swiped from the fruit bowl. Before Sam even had chance to think of a comeback, Tony walked into the communal dining/living area, followed closely by Nat and Steve. Nat nodded her head in the direction of the small briefing room. “That’s my cue” you smiled at Sam before following along.

“Agent Y/N, good to see you again, as your aware we require your assistance for a mission, I’ve been given clearance from Commander Hill, and you come highly recommended from the team. I’ve seen you in action in the training rooms and you seem like a capable candidate,” Said Tony. Your eyebrows shot up, it appeared Tony was running point on this mission, not unusual for the Avengers sure, but all your previous missions with the Avengers had been overseen by Nick Fury or more recently Commander Hill.

“This mission is off the books, I got the intel from Morgan actually, we have reason to believe there is a small cartel family, trafficking young children to Hydra” Tony continued.

“Morgan noticed a new kid at school, acting suspicious, they reminded her of how Uncle Bucky, and Steve are when lifting heavy things” Said Steve. “Morgan said they joined her class out of know where, quietly slipping in as if they’d been in her class all along, then a week later, they stopped showing up.” Concluded Steve.

“So, why do you need me?” You asked. At that moment, the door to meeting room opened and in walked Bucky, he didn’t move to sit down instead pressing himself into the corner of at the back the room. “We need intel” Said Nat. “Basically we need someone who’s not recognizable like me, but is someone we trust, and Y/N if Steve and I trust you then that’s good enough for Tony”. She continued. “Intel, right I can do that, so what’s the plan and where am I going” you asked.

“We’re going to Boston” said Bucky, your eyebrows shot up, you had presumed you were going by yourself. “I may not be The Winter Soldier anymore, but I can still remember some hotspots for HYDRA activity and Boston is their most obvious choice as a few higher ups from HYDRA own property out there” he continued.

“Y/N, we know we are asking a lot of you here, but we trust Bucky to keep this under wraps and we trust you,” Said Tony.

So that was how you ended up in Boston in the middle of October in a small one-bedroom apartment with Mr. Bucky Barnes. There was a fold out couch which Bucky took and left you the bedroom. You had been given Three days to gather as much intel as possible before reporting back to Tony, Steve and Nat on day 4

. Day one had been a bust, you and Bucky had split off to follow separate trails, your paths meeting at the same spot where the trail had gone cold. Day two had gone much better, as your paths had already crossed once you both decided to work on the same lead. Stark had been on to something with the human trafficking, you tracked a lot of vehicle traffic coming into an old gym/leisure center.

Day 3 was when everything changed. You had agreed with Bucky that he would stay back at the apartment whilst you tried to get into the building, you couldn’t risk Bucky being discovered by Hydra and whilst you knew what intel you already had would be a huge lead for Nat and the rest you decided you had come this far you might as well try and see inside.

“You promise you’ll get out of there the second you feel like you’re in danger?” Bucky asked. “Stark might trust me to keep this under wraps but that doesn’t necessarily mean he trusts me and if anything happens to you, I’m sure he’ll find a way to blame me” Bucky said, his blue eyes flickered over with confliction and pain. Before this mission you hadn’t really had much interaction with Bucky, but you could tell he regretted his actions as The Winter Soldier. I put your hand on Bucky’s Vibrainium arm and smiled at him softly.

“ I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, but if I’m about to get caught I will high tail it out of there” you said. (Spoiler alert you didn’t)

“For Fucks Sake Y/N!” Bucky shouted slamming the apartment door shut behind him, he looked pissed, like really pissed. His usually clear blue eyes had thundered over, turning them a deeper shade of blue almost black.

You’d had every intention of getting out of the building if you felt you were in trouble, but then you’d gotten cocky thinking that this could lead to a promotion, even if the mission were off the books if Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were impressed with your work then that would mean something.

Unfortunately, this attitude had nearly cost you the mission. You had let your guard down and not only that you had actually fallen down. You had been creeping along a ledge outside what appeared to be a makeshift infirmary on the first floor. You head voices coming from two windows along and had inched further to try and get a clearer listen, however you hadn’t realized the brick was in poor condition and had already started to crumble away from the wall. T

hat was the moment you knew you’d fucked up because you went barreling down. Thankfully, there was a balcony to break your fall or else you’d have done some serious damage. You also hadn’t exactly been quiet as you fell down the face of the wall, so you didn’t exactly stick around, you snapped a few pictures of the building entrance from the balcony, hearing the voices around the building getting louder you decided to jump from the balcony to the ground floor and just hightail it out of there.

“I know, I know I fucked up” you bellowed. You were in pretty rough shape and you’d had to text Bucky 911 when you were a safe distance from the gym. “I let my guard down thinking I could get enough intel to finally get a promotion within S.H.E.I.L.D or at least get enough recognition to be considered for a position within Avengers” you continued.

The black turtleneck shirt you were wearing was starting to stick to your side. You headed to the bedroom desperate to get the top off. “I don’t need you telling me how badly I fucked up” you shouted slamming the bedroom door behind you.

“Fuck” you hissed, you were in pain and felt utterly humiliated. You pushed your palms into your eyes to stop yourself crying. With a deep breath you whipped of your shirt, deciding to treat it like a band aid and that ripping it of would be better than an agonizing slow peel.

You were bleeding, thankfully not an amount that would require medical attention but enough that you were going to have to put some gauze over it. You really didn’t want to ask Bucky for help so decided to be a martyr instead and clean yourself up in the mirror using the first aid supplies you had packed into your duffle bag.

Thirty minutes later you were admiring your handy work and the feeling pretty pleased with your hard work when Bucky knocked on the door, he didn’t wake for you to respond before opening the door. “Look Y/N I know…” Bucky’s voice trailed off as you stood there in your underwear, in your anger and rush you hadn’t locked the door.

Everything in that moment seemed to go in slow motion as you went to grab a jumper off the bed at the exact moment Bucky’s eyes trailed your body taking in all the scrapes, cuts and injuries on your body. He knew you’d been injured but not to this extent.

“Y/N…” Bucky’s clear blue eyes had thundered over again this time a mixture of anger, concern and (all though you didn’t know it) lust swirled in them. You went to pull your jumper over your head but before you could even pull it on over your arm’s Bucky had closed the distance between you, pinning you to the wall with one arm above your head and the other to your side. You felt your breath catch in your throat, even though he was clearly pissed you liked the feel of him pressed against you.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I cleaned myself up and patched it up fine, we don’t need to tell Nat about it”, you said turning your head away from him, you were protecting your reputation as much as his. Bucky’s eyes softened, loosening the grip on your arms just a touch, you felt a delectable burning sensation where his pressure had eased.

You could feel yourself growing farm under Bucky’s gaze. You’d fantasized about a moment like this since you’d met him that day helping Sam out, sure you’d imagined it would have been under better circumstances and he would have also had less clothing on. Suddenly all you could think about was how much you wanted Bucky. Bucky seemed to sense the change in your demeanor as he gulped. His eyes met yours.

“We shouldn’t… we really shouldn’t” he said his voice coming out at barely a whisper. “Oh, but we should” you said a sly grin on your face. Before Bucky even had time to respond you were kissing him. Bucky’s lips parted slightly welcoming your kiss, deepening it as your tongues crashed against each other.

Bucky released the grip on your arms as his hands danced their way down your body, the contrast between the cool metal arm dragging down your right side to the way his right arm left a blazing trail down your left side. Bucky crushed himself against you as your fingers tangled in his brown hair. You couldn’t help but moan as you felt Bucky’s hard cock pressed against you restricted by his jeans and underwear.

How you longed to reach out and grab his cock and release it from his jeans. Bucky was taking this torturously slow fingering the waistband of your underwear, leaving a trail of blazing hot kisses along your neck.

His cool Vibrainium arm cupped your ass. Something in you snapped and you decided you couldn’t wait any longer, so your hand moved to Bucky’s waistband. Before you could even undo the button on his jeans Bucky had your arms pinned above your head with his Vibrainium arm. He chuckled.

“My my, my, impatient little thing aren’t we” he said between kisses. “You should know by now Y/N I’m the one in charge here, that goes for the bedroom as well as the mission” he said, before you could even process what he’d just said Bucky pushed his hand down the front of your underwear Bucky shoved two fingers in making you gasp at the shock, the pain and how good it felt to have Bucky warm fingers inside you. You whined as Bucky’s fingers did nothing. He let out a slight moan.

“Holy fuck you’re dripping already, just from a few light kisses, just how long have you been imagining a moment like this” he asked. When you didn’t answer Bucky flicked his thumb over your clit sending shivers down your spine, you let out a moan.

“Don’t make me ask again Y/N” said Bucky. “So, so long, since I met you” You said between gulps as Bucky started gently pulsing his fingers in and out of you. Your admission seems to stir a hunger in Bucky, has his thumb finds its way back to your bud, Bucky gently swipes his rough thumb over it, making you whimper, suddenly he’s pushing his two fingers into hard and fast whilst his thumb swipes ferocious circles on your now throbbing bud, your hands clawing at Bucky back.

You feel your cunt tighten round his fingers. Your so close and Bucky can tell. Which only encourages him as he pushes a third finger inside you slowing his pace right down back to slow agonizing strokes. You’re putty in his hands and he knows it.

“You’re only allowed to cum when I say so Y/N” he says as his pace quickens once again, hitting that sweet spot. You had never been so fucking turned on before, but the way Bucky’s fingers played you like a fiddle and had you dripping was something else. It was taking everything in you to hold back your orgasm.

Suddenly just as you felt like you couldn’t hold back any longer and your legs were about to give out Bucky withdrew his fingers, you instantly felt empty. However, you didn’t have to wait long, as Bucky sank down onto his knees, pulling your legs up over his shoulders.

“Now what did I say Y/N?” he asked as he started peppering kisses and gentle bites along the inside of your things. You could barely think straight, and the sudden change had you gasping from the shock and delight.

“I – I’m only allowed to cum when you say so” you stuttered. “Good girl” he replied before picking you up by your thighs. You thought he would have perhaps moved to the bed, but no Bucky pushed your back up against the wall, standing tall with you sat on his shoulders with one hand still holding you up he removed your underwear which was soaked and took one slow lick up your slit, his tongue gentle yet rough at the same time.

“Fuck. Bucky” you hissed. Your eyes fluttered close. “Mm that’s right doll, you just enjoy the ride” he chuckled before he started licking at your bud, Bucky’s pace was frantic like he couldn’t get enough of you, you felt like every single nerve in your body was on fire. You could feel yourself getting close still sensitive from the feel of Bucky’s rough fingers pumping you. You weren’t used to being denied your orgasm, hell most of your escapades had very rarely even managed to get you one orgasm let alone deny you it.

“Please Bucky,” you whispered hands tangled in his hair you weren’t sure how much longer you would hold out. Bucky didn’t respond instead slowing his pace right down again his tongue dragged across your hypersensitive bud you opened your eyes to find Bucky’s blue eyes dark with hunger and lust staring straight at you as a small smirk tugged on his lips, it was almost as if he was staring straight into to your soul.

With Bucky’s tongue still slowly swiping your bud Bucky entered one finger into you, curling up to hit that magic spot, Bucky’s rough finger combined with the licking and sucking was almost too much and just as you felt like you couldn’t take any more….

“Y/N cum for me” said Bucky, that was all it took and suddenly you were screaming his name as you felt your orgasm crash over you, wave after wave as your cunt pulsed round Bucky’s finger.Bucky lowered you from the wall onto the bed, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Keeping his eyes on you Bucky popped the button on his jeans and unzipped them shimmying them along with his boxers down his body. His cock sprang out and you couldn’t help but lick your lips, it was magnificent, and you wanted nothing more for it to fill you.

However, Bucky had other ideas first. He leant down and pulled you towards the end of the bed when he straightened up you were at eye level with his waste, Bucky noticed the glazed look in your eyes and how transfixed you were with his dick, he chuckled all though the look you were giving was shooting straight to his cock, he was going to enjoy all you had to offer and make you work for it if you wanted his dick to pound your insides.

Bucky nudged your mouth open with his cock, you parted your lips and Bucky slowly pushed his cock into your mouth he was bigger than you realized and it took you a moment to adjust you took a breath and then slowly you dragged your tongue all the way up his shaft, lazily sucking his length you brought your and up to the base of his shaft moving in tandem with your mouth, your pace started to quicken hollowing your cheeks. Bucky moaned.

“Fuck Y/N you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, so fucking pretty” Bucky said tangling his Vibrainium hand in your hair whilst his right had gripped your shoulder, Bucky bucked his hips fucking your mouth. You drew your head back and licked his throbbing dick with little gentle kitten like licks before taking him back in all his glory into your mouth. Just then your phone rang you were going to ignore it until Bucky’s started ringing from the front room, Bucky seemed to snap out of whatever haze had taken him over and removed his cock from your mouth and quickly pulled up his boxers and jeans before walking out of the bedroom avoiding your gaze the entire time.

You felt your heart plummet and tears started to gather in the corner of your eyes, you furiously swiped at them taking a deep breath before getting up to answer your phone. Tony’s name flashed up on the caller id.

“Tony…” you said

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #avengers fanfiction #bucky x y/n #avengers

35 notes · View notes

takemyopenheart · 4 years ago

Text

Waiting (part 1 of 3)

summary: Ethan and Luz grapple with the decisions made that may alter the future of their relationship. Takes place between book 1 and 2.

The memory of her body in such intimate proximity still lingered. The smell of her hair, her soft caresses on his chest as they lay spent, the enticing way she curled up beneath his arms.

He curses himself for dredging up such thoughts again. But he can’t be rid of them no matter how hard he tries. They invade his mind. It’s like a bittersweet curse he can’t break. His grip tightens around the nearly empty glass of scotch and wishes the cold glass was replaced by the warmth of her soft hand. He takes another swig, letting the rich smokiness coat his throat.

With a sigh, he rests his head back against the armchair, keeping his eyes wide open to keep the image of those chocolate brown eyes he’s come to know so well—and love—at bay.

Love.

He groans again. As much as he likes controlling every aspect of his life, nothing could prepare him for the unexpected impact Luz would have on his life, much less opening up his heart and inevitably falling for her and letting all the walls he’d built up crumble.

He should’ve stayed away. The thought stings because he knows he doesn’t mean it. Any ounce of regret immediately washes away when he thinks of the happy moments they’ve shared, none of which he regrets. Never did he ever expect someone to affect him the way that she did. She was there during the most turbulent times in his life when he had no one.

Dolores was relying on his expertise, and she was taken away so unfairly, leaving a child behind. A child Luz refused to leave on his own. It took Ethan a while to understand that not only was she there for baby Ethan while he fought for his life, but she was also there for Ethan while he was struggling to fight for a life.

His biggest fear was losing the only other person he cared about. Watching his mentor Naveen struggle for his life affected him deeply. But he had to be there for his friend and got right into finding whatever it was that was causing his debilitating illness. He hardly slept. He hardly allowed himself to feel. Naveen needed him. He was his only salvation, until she appeared and refused to leave their side.

Overtime, her presence became his comfort and lifeline. As much as he tried closing his heart to her, she won it in the end. Had it not been for her...he can’t even bear the thought.

The quiet stillness which surrounds him does nothing to ease his flurried mind, it merely aids in providing the perfect atmosphere in which he can still hear her voice, her laugh, every whisper of her soothing voice.

His eyes shut, and he sucks in a deep breath, letting the cool air fill his lungs. His flight leaves in a few hours. He forces his eyes open when a thought seeps into his brain again—a cycle he’s found himself stuck in. He glances down at the coffee table where his phone lays, and two words echoe in an endless haunting loop—call her.

He knows he owes her that much, but his stubborn nature prevents him from reaching for it. His arms feel heavy, as if the weight of the turmoil he finds himself in weighs them down, preventing him from dialing the phone number he’s memorized from the moment he first dialed it. Her voice is just a phone call away, and his throat closes at the thought.

The last they spoke had been Friday, but the professional distance was there, due to the fact that he was back to being her attending. And soon, she would take her place on the diagnostics team, with Ethan being her direct supervisor. He stopped receiving her texts, unless they had to do with work. It seemed she, too, was doing everything in her power to move on. Though he knew it was the right thing, he couldn’t fill that piece that was back to being the missing part of his life.

There’s a sudden ping. Ethan’s head whips to the source of the sound and finally picks up his phone. Everything’s forgotten in that instant, and he hopes to see her name displayed on the screen. He adjusts his eyes to the brightness, only to read a notification that his ride has arrived.

He feels the urge to toss it against the wall, to let the frustration seeping into him out. He sighs deeply, and before he knows it, the glass in his hand is chucked across the room where it smashes into small fragments on the living room floor and around the packed luggage sitting beside the front door.

This is what must be done, for her own sake. He can’t hinder her professional development with whatever it is they have—had, as much as it pains him to take that step. Her career must come before anything.

The forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.

And he must go before he’s tempted again. He has to.

Two weeks later

His stubbled jaw scratches its way down her neck, lavishing her skin with open-mouthed kisses. She feels his rough hand make its way down her exposed skin, tickling her in the best way possible. He laughs softly in her ear when she begins guiding his hand toward the part that begs for his touch. It’s a laugh so deep and alluring, she wishes that sound to stretch on and on and on...

Her eyes flutter open as she jolts awake in her bed. Her heart thumps a quick rhythm as she looks at the empty cold space beside her, the only body warmth her own. She’s pulled out of the reverie, letting her heart feel that familiar ache its grown used to.

She checks the time on her phone—6:16 am. At least she got four hours of sleep this time, she thinks to herself. She can’t miss the next step of what’s become her daily morning routine. She looks at the screen for any sign of him, any message to let her know he’s okay and that he’s thinking of her. But the pang of hurt hits her again as she stares at the empty screen.

Of course he isn’t thinking of her. He’s moved on. She forces her feet to keep her going and prepare for another full day of distractions—anything to overpower the lingering sound and smell of him.

She keeps her curtains closed, she doesn’t feel like letting the sunshine in.

Her feet sluggishly carry her toward the kitchen to make herself a cup of black coffee. She isn’t surprised to find Elijah and Sienna already in the kitchen. They’ve been her support system these past few weeks. They’re still the only ones who know the truth about her and Ethan. It’s an alleviating sight to wake up from dreams about him and find them there to offer her company.

A lone empty mug sits on the countertop, and when they look over to see her approaching, Sienna fills it with the steamy caffeinated beverage. She throws them a smile and takes her seat on the kitchen stool as they prepare their breakfast.

"Have some pancakes, Luz. Or some eggs and toast," Elijah encourages her with a warm smile on his face, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he stares back at her desolate-filled expression.

"I’m okay. Thanks for the coffee, though," she simply says and takes the mug in her hands to take a sip. It burns her tongue, and she flinches.

"Careful, Luz, it’s still hot," Sienna warns her too late.

"I’m all right, don’t worry."

Sienna and Elijah share a concerned look. They can’t help but worry. The brightness and vivaciousness has dimmed in their best friend since he left. It was an entire week before they learned he left for the Amazon with the W.H.O. It was like Ethan to join in on fighting an epidemic, and she didn’t fault him for that. It was an incredibly brave thing to do.

She’d followed his wishes for them to resume their professional working relationship. No longer did he look at her the way he used to. Steadily, he began to revert back to being the closed-off man she first met. It pained her, but she had to respect this is what he wanted. But deep in her heart, she knew he still cared for her, which is why it hurt her that he’d decided to leave her wondering where he was. She left a message after the first few days she hadn’t heard from him, only for it to be left unanswered.

No one had any idea where he was until Naveen shared the news. By then it was too late to try to reach him, and she couldn’t help but think that was why he delayed in sharing his whereabouts. His phone was no longer in service. She had no way of hearing his voice.

Some part of her knew he was running away from her—from everything they left behind, and she felt selfish every time that thought crossed her mind. It was no longer about her. And that was a clear enough message.

She sips the last of the coffee and steps off the kitchen stool. "I’m going to go for a walk."

"Want some company?" Sienna asks with hope in her eyes.

Luz knows she can’t go on like this. She shouldn’t let her life revolve around one emotionally unavailable man, but she can’t help what her heart still feels for him. She’s going to have to accept the fact that she can’t have everything she wants. She’ll live with the memories they shared. And she hopes that’ll be enough.

Her breath hitches as she remembers the last kiss they shared. She shakes her head to be rid of the flashing thought and looks up to meet Sienna’s eyes. "You know what? Sure. I could use friends right now. But first, let’s eat breakfast."

She and Elijah brighten up at the response. "Good. Because boy, are we going to get up to some fun today! It’s a promise." Elijah grins and places a plate in front of her. His face becomes serious, and he gently pats Luz’s arm. "We’re here for you."

Luz musters a smile. "I know. Thanks, guys. It means a lot. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"But don’t keep it all inside," Sienna interrupts. "When you’re ready to talk about it, we’re open ears."

"Yeah. What Sienna said."

Luz feels tears brimming in her eyes because for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel totally alone. She won’t be as long as her friends are there. There’s always light at the end of the tunnel. It just may take some time to reach it. And that’s okay.

•

Note: For an added dose of angst, listen to Waiting by Alice Boman. Major Ethan leaving for the Amazon vibes.

•

@openheartfanfics

I haven’t been tagging anyone in these since they’re from my old blog, but if you still wish to be tagged in my reposts, let me know😊

#ethan ramsey #open heart #playchoices #Ethan x Luz #old fic from deleted blog

24 notes · View notes

thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 5 years ago

Note

What do you think about the fact that, out of the group's raptor morphs, everyone has a unique morph except Marco and Cassie, who are both ospreys?

I do think that there’s an interesting implication there, because (as I’ve mentioned) most of the morphs in Animorphs are characterization. Not so much the obvious metaphors (fox = clever, rabbit = fast, etc.) but rather the specific qualities of the animals that the text chooses to focus on. For example, Ax using snake morph in #8 is about it being this weird but surprisingly powerful Earth animal, because in context it’s all about Ax coming to appreciate Earth. Marco using snake morph in #20 is about how cold and calculating snake minds are, because in context Marco’s the first one to recognize how callous David is... because they’re so like-minded.

Anyway, osprey.

A lot of the in-text descriptions focus on its versatility. Ospreys can operate in and around water better than red-tailed hawks, but not as well as seagulls (MM2). Ospreys are smaller and faster than eagles (#14) but not as small or fast as peregrine falcons (#31). Ospreys do better over long distances than either eagles or falcons, but not nearly as well as geese or ducks (#51). Osprey blends in better than red-tailed hawk once controllers start recognizing Tobias (#27), but osprey still does not blend in nearly as well as pigeon or seagull (#21). Ospreys have better vision in non-optimal conditions like glare or low lighting than red-tails or harriers, but cannot match the low-light vision of owls (#50).

So what’s that say about Cassie and Marco, “the only two real survivors” (#54) of the team? Partially, them using the same morph — not just as raptors, but also how often Marco uses wolf — is about foreshadowing that reality. Ospreys adapt, and wolves endure. Those two compromise a hell of a lot, and then they figure out how to live with themselves after those compromises. However, I also think that it’s a comment on their role on the team.

If you’ll forgive a metaphor that Animorphs trashes: let’s talk about chess.

The obvious connection is Jake and Rachel as the king and the queen, respectively. The king (Jake) is pretty unimpressive on his own (#21, #31) and incredibly powerful as part of a team (#26, #34, etc.). Most importantly, the team cannot function without the king, even if it can get by without any other single piece, to the point where outsized effort gets devoted to defending him (MM3, #37). The queen (Rachel) is easily the most powerful offensive piece on the board (#1, #7, etc.) to the point where she leads the charge much of the time and often goes daringly far into enemy territory (#17, #25). The check on her power then becomes her very boldness — because opponents will often be gunning for her first (#54).

So what I think the osprey points to is Marco and Cassie’s role as the team’s bishops. The bishops are best known for their opposite-but-equal roles. One can only use the black squares; one can only use the white. Both are easier to hem in than knights or rooks, meaning that they go undervalued by amateur players. Both are capable of zooming clear from one corner of the board to the other, if the pawns get out of the way and give them that bright clear line for the kind of devastating distance attacks that amateur players often don’t see coming. Bishops are harder to track at first blush than rooks, because while they’re still moving only in straight lines they move along lines that are harder for the eye to trace than the neat rows or columns that rooks use.

Cassie and Marco are diametrically opposed in many regards. Marco thinks about the big picture first, last, and always, to the point where he tends to neglect the little guy. Cassie thinks about the little guy so much that she tends to neglect the big picture. But they’re both needed to keep the team in check, not in the least because they can be counted on to follow their own nature. Jake can send either one of them to act as lieutenant for a partial team, because he knows exactly what they’ll do. Cassie will stick by her ethics, and Marco will stick by his. Neither one of them will make impulsive decisions like Rachel, or decide mid-mission that they’ll go off book like Tobias or Ax.

Marco and Cassie think things through. They’re usually the ones to come up with plans — Jake’s role is far more about making snap decisions mid-battle — and the ones to kick around others’ plans in search of the flaws. Cassie and Marco arguing with each other is how 80% of the decisions on the team get made. (There’s too many examples to list, but some of my favorite arguments between them are in #9, #19, MM3, #30, #43, and #46.)

Marco and Cassie move along straight lines, but their straight lines are not everyone else’s straight lines. Even some of their most shocking-in-context decisions are still aligned with their individual priorities. Marco tries to kill Eva because it’s expedient, to use Marco’s own word, in that it advances the Animorphs’ goals at all costs (#30). Cassie stops Jake from killing Tom because it follows her dedication to minimizing unnecessary harm, especially when Jake’s alleged long-term ends that justify his current means are nebulous at best (#50). It’s notable that Jake is not just angry but flabbergasted when Marco risks everyone’s life by morphing with a noseful of teammates in #42 — it’s wildly uncharacteristic for Marco. Rachel or even Ax might morph on impulse in a moment of strong emotion, and Tobias might decide to do his own thing at any given moment. But Marco (or Cassie) would never take that kind of risk without thinking things through... unless, of course, Marco had rabies.

Cassie and Marco are predictable, to the people who know them best. Cassie keeps the team in check through ensuring that they don’t cross certain ethical thresholds. Marco keeps the team in check through ensuring that they have an overall strategy rather than just attacking targets at random. They’re not predictable to the enemy, because their respective lines aren’t rook-straight self-interest, but they stick by themselves throughout the war and beyond.

#animorphs #animorphs meta #cassie animorphs #marco animorphs #long post #tobias and ax are knights #marco is the king's bishop and cassie is the queen's bishop #possibly toby and erek are now rooks?#change my mind #anonymous #asks

414 notes · View notes

goodlucktkachuk · 4 years ago

Text

Frantic -- Matthew Tkachuk (Pt.6)

a/n: hope you guys enjoy. It’s making me sad that this stories coming to an end soon but I’m excited for whats coming.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

“Yes I already called her, she knows you’re with him...He’s gonna be okay I promise...Text me when you guys find out what happened…Yeah I’m gonna talk to him… I don’t know what’s going to happen...Just keep me updated...Love you too, bye.”

You stood in the family and friends area and waited patiently for Matthew to come out and take you back to his place. This wasn’t how tonight wasn’t supposed to go. It was supossed to be filled with butterflies and cute stolen glances across his kitchen. It was supposed to be flirty and romantic, not heartbreaking and filled with tension. You knew you looked like a mess without even seeing yourself, even though you didn’t cry infront of Emily, the second she left you were a wreck. You brought your hand up to your puffy face and tried to wipe the running mascara off of your cheeks, trying to look semi normal as the boys came out.

Before he made his way to Steph, Mitch walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. On any other day you would’ve been standing with her but she knew that today you just needed to be alone with your thoughts for a bit. You relaxed into his chest and let out the choked sob you were holding tight in your throat. He ran his thumb in circles on your back and told you to breathe.

“Hits happen Y/n, he’s gonna be okay.” he cooed slightly as you pulled away and wiped your tears again.

“I know. Just seeing Emily’s face when it happened broke my heart Mitchy.” You voice shook slightly. He nodded and pulled you in for another hug.

“Are you still sure you wanna stay with Tkachuk for the rest of the week. I can book you a flight to Vancouver right now if you want it.”

“No no it’s fine, Chantal would kill me if she showed up and I’m not there. Thank you though.” You gave him a soft smile and a pat on the arm. He pulled you in for one last hug before he departed to his girlfriend.

After a few minutes of players shooting you half waves and sorry glances, Auston was the next to approach you. As he went in to give you a hug you took a swift step back and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards a less crowded part of the arena.

Matty got back just in time to see you leave with Auston and decided this wasn’t a situation he wanted you in alone so he followed close behind. You were in such a rage you didn’t even notice. Once you were far enough away that you figured no one could hear you and Matthew was safely hidden behind a corner, you started to lay into Aus.

“What the fuck Auston!” Your voice was dripping with anger.

“What?” His voice was full of confusion.

“Why can’t you ever leave good enough alone? For weeks now all you’ve done is try to stick your nose into something that has nothing to do with you!”

“Is this about Tkachuk?”

“No shit Auston! Ever since you saw us in Toronto you’ve been a pest!”

“Oh I’m the pest?? I’m pretty sure that’s your boyfriend's job.” Anger filled your entire body and you completely exploded.

“At least he isn’t the reason one of my best friends was carried off the ice tonight!” Even though it was the wrong time, a smile crossed Matthews face when you didn’t deny he was yours.

“Are you blind Y/N? He laid the hit!” he burst out angrily.

“Because you chirped him! He was going after you and you knew that! You could’ve warned Nick but didn’t.You could’ve taken the hit like you fucking deserved. God this whole time you’ve just been trying to act like you know what’s best but you just keep hurting people!”

“So trying to protect you is hurting you?” His voice lowered, sending a chill up your spin. He moved forward causing you to retreat into the wall till you were stuck between it and his body.

“Protect me from what Auston?” You bite.

“From Matthew sweetheart. Y/n you don’t know him the way I do. He gives girls the world to just take it away as soon as he finds someone else. I don’t want you to end up like everyone else.” he took a slight pause then continued. “He can’t satisfy you, Y/n. He’s not enough for you. Everyone can see it but you.”

Matthew became filled with rage as he heard Auston drag his name through the mud. About to blow his cover your voice pulled him out of his rage.

“You didn’t think I already knew that. Taryn and I had a list in her diary to keep track of all the girls Matthew brought home during the summer. Brady and I would make bets on how long till Chantal would catch the next one sneaking out of the bunkie. My mother would lecture Mitch for hours on what would happen if he ever treated Steph that way.”

You placed both your hands on his chest and pushed him away to create some distance but he caught your wrists mid way. He went to speak but you cut him off.

“And who are you to tell me that he’s not enough for me! The last time I checked if I wanted to a date a shithead I would’ve said yes the first four times you asked me out.” Hurt covered his face and he agressivly dropped you from his grasp.

“You’re such a fucking bitch. Don’t come running when he leaves you.”

“Trust me, it won’t even cross my mind Matthews.”

He shook his head and mumbled something inchorent as he walked away.

Your heart and Matts both clenched at the same time. He had no intention of ever treating you like the others. He was just a kid when he did all of that stuff. He knew he had something amazing in you and he wouldn’t jeopardize that for the world.

A light sob escaped your lips as it hit you your friendship with Aus was never going to recover from this, even though he was a pain you still loved him like your brother but this had to be done. Even if Matthew wasn’t involved, Auston had gotten too comfortable acting like the two of you were together and it had to come to an end.

A few minutes later Matthew finally moved from his spot and turned the corner. Trying his best to act like he hadn’t just listen to what had just taken place.

“There you are princess, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” His voice was soft as he pulled you into a hug. You melted into his touch and for the first time in hours your body relaxed. Even though you were happy to be in his arms and you were mad at Auston, part of you still held anger towards Matthew.

“Can we go home now please?” You muttered quietly.

“Of course, babe.”

He put his hand on the small of your back and you walked out of the arena in silence. He opened your door and helped you into the car before he retreated to the drivers side. Neither of you spoke the whole ride back to his apartment. Mentally you were exhausted and he was exhausted physically so you both were being stretched thin the longer you were awake. As much as he wanted to talk to you he knew that it probably wasn’t the best time and as much as he wanted to crawl into bed and hold you, he knew you wouldn’t sleep.

When you got home he took your bags out of the backseat and you granted him a soft thank you as you both headed inside. When you entered his apartment you were surprised how much it felt like a home. You could tell his mom had helped him decorate but it still had parts of him littered throughout.

Neither of you had spoken yet. You sat on the couch timidly as you watched him slip down the hallway to what you assumed was his bedroom. A few minutes later you watched him return holding one of his sweaters and a pair of his boxers.

You took them from his hands, offering a nod of appreciation and slipped them on in the guest bathroom. You just stood for a few minutes and drank in your appearance. Black spectled your cheeks, bags hung heavy under your eyes and you looked frail. Pressure was all that filled your body and if you didn’t know better you’d think you’d explode at any minute. You quickly washed your face with some cold water, the cool sensation provided you with a bit of relief.

When you returned Matthew had changed as well but into an old t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. Even in his most casual clothes he was still the most handsome man you had ever seen. A soft smile crossed your lips as you drank in the sight of him. His head was in his hands as he sat at the island. His blonde curls ran wild across he’s head, his jaw was clenched and you could see all the viens in his arms. He was a masterpiece.

This feeling of bliss swiftly faded as you stood across from him and the two of you were slowly drowned by the silence. Matthew was the first to speak but he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

“I’m sorry Y/N… I didn’t mean to hurt Nick.”

“I know but no matter who it was you still shouldn’t have done it. Not like that.” You sounded distant and stared at your hands.

“Are you being serious right now?” Matthews' voice flared with surprise.

“Yes.” You responded coldly.

“Y/n you know that’s how I play. I’m not gonna sit back and let people walk all over me for the sake of being nice. I’d be letting my team down if I stopped being aggressive!” He was beginning to get heated as he pushed himself up from his stool to look at you.

“There’s a difference between playing aggressively and playing violently Matt! You gotta start realizing your actions have consequences.” His eyes burned into yours as you spoke.

“Rookies need to learn Y/n! Even if the hit wasn’t for him he can learn from it.” He huffed in anger and the anger you felt earlier in the night began to return.

“It doesn’t matter if he needed to learn or not! You could’ve seriously hurt him out there tonight!” The anger in your voice began to bubble.

“He's not your boyfriend Y/n, why do you care so much?” he spat back at you. His voice filled with disgust.

At this point, you couldn’t take anymore and you began to scream at the man in front of you.

“Matthew you didn’t see the look on his face as he was falling! You didn’t have to hold your best friend in your arms as she cried thinking her boyfriend got knocked out in front of her! You weren’t the one who had to call the poor boy's mother and tell her what happened to her son! You didn’t have to cut people out of your life for this shit.”

“Auston didn’t deserve you anyway.”

“Excuse me?” The tone in your voice immedately let Matthew know he fucked up. You mad eyour way around the island and stared up at Matt waiting to see what his next move was.

“Ummm...”

“How did you know I was talking about Auston?”

“Lucky guess?” his voice was dripping with guilt.

“Matthew.”

“I might have been listening to you guys talking earlier...”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Not only is Auston watching my every move but you are too. Awesome!” You exclamied, throwing your hands up. You turned on your heels and started for his bedroom.

“Y/n wait!! Can we please finish talking?” Matthew yells from behind you.

“Nope! Not right now! I'm going to bed. You can sleep on the couch. Goodnight!” You sounded so exhausted that it broke Matts heart.

“You can’t make me sleep on the couch in my own apartment!”

“Watch me Tkachuk!” You said as you slammed the door and locked it behind you.

#matthew tkachuk #matty tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #calgary flames #flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #auston matthews

133 notes · View notes

refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Flawless (5)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD, background drug use

*****

Riley waited a full week before talking to Nikki again. Probably not her best move, but Nikki didn’t need to be such a baby either.

Hey we need to book flights, Riley typed.

The three dots appeared and disappeared several times before Nikki sent back, Come over. Let’s do it together.

Ok.

An hour later, Riley hesitated before knocking on Nikki’s apartment door. She didn’t know why. She hadn’t done anything wrong. And yet here she was, standing outside like a timid guest instead of letting herself in like she always did.

Deep breath. “This is ridiculous,” Riley muttered to herself. Her knuckles collided with the wood in three sharp knocks.

Muffled footsteps approached the door, and then Riley was met with Nikki’s soft smile. “Hey,” the blonde said.

“Hey.” Crossing the threshold, Riley didn’t know what to do with her hands. She tried to put them in her front pockets before realizing her jeans didn’t have pockets. Nikki would take crossed arms the wrong way, so Riley clasped her hands in front of her. That felt wrong too. She settled on clasping her hands behind her back, slightly widening her stance like a soldier.

She’d learned that from an Army guy her mom dated once.

Nikki grabbed her laptop and set it on the kitchen counter. Looking at the screen, she said, “I started looking at flights before you got here. They’re all pretty expensive because it’s Fashion Week, but I think I’ve found some good options.”

Riley kept her distance, but she said, “Whatever you think is best.”

Nikki’s eyes slid to her, disbelieving. “Are you sure?”

Riley tensed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You always have opinions on flights. Always.” That was true. When it came to running a job, Riley never let someone make a decision without her input.

But her apology had to start somewhere. If Desi, of all people, thought she needed to apologize, then she couldn’t just sweep this under the rug. And giving Nikki back some control after refusing to do so before seemed like a good place to start.

“You can pick. I trust you.” Riley shoved down the burning need to look over Nikki’s shoulder as her gut churned, unsteady and anxious without having complete control. She quickly wiped the grimace off her face, but it was too late. Nikki saw it.

“Riles, are you okay? You look like you’re going to puke.” Nikki studied her with a concerned frown.

Riley squeaked, “Yep. I’m good.”

Her friend wasn’t convinced. “You hate this, don’t you?”

“Just book the fucking flights, Nik.” She fought not to squirm the entire time Nikki worked, only relaxing after the deed was done and Nikki closed her laptop with a soft click.

“Need anything else?” Riley didn’t miss the clear dismissal in Nikki’s tone.

“Uh, yeah.” Riley awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, just to give her hands something to do. “Jill told me about that jewelry designer who rented out the Louvre,” she said. “That wasn’t just a casual conversation you two had, was it?”

Nikki glanced down. “No, it wasn’t. But you already knew that.”

“Why not just tell me yourself?”

“Because you wouldn’t have listened to me!” Nikki tried and failed to speak calmly, her normally calm exterior crumbling with each word. “When I questioned you in the kitchen, you pulled rank and basically told me to shut up. If I had suggested an alternative target, you would’ve blown up in my face right in front of everyone!” A pause. “You’ve changed. The Riley I know doesn’t do things like that.”

Her words stung, but Riley kept her expression neutral, the way she’d learned to do in prison. “Desi thinks I still hold a grudge against you.”

“Do you?” Nikki asked softly. So, so softly, almost like she was afraid of the answer.

Nikki’s change in tone and the apprehension lining her eyes was enough to make Riley lower her guard. Not all the way, but just enough to say, “I don’t know. Maybe.” Nikki swallowed. “It’s complicated,” Riley backtracked, desperately trying not to make things worse than they already were.

“So how do we fix this?” Nikki asked. “Fix us.”

Talk to her, Jill had said.

“Talk about it, I guess. Not all today,” Riley quickly added, “but over time.”

“Okay.” Nikki chewed her bottom lip, and Riley waited, knowing her best friend had something more to say. Nikki’s voice was thick when she finally said, “It’s okay that you’ve changed. Of course you have. It’s not fair of me to hold that against you. And I’m sorry that it’s my fault you had to change to survive in there.”

Neither of them could say the word aloud. Prison. Riley could barely imagine a future where she could easily say it.

“Do you really blame yourself?”

“It’s hard not to.”

“That’s why you visited me so much, isn’t it? Because you felt guilty.”

Nikki looked down. “It should’ve been me in there, not you.”

“Bullshit. I made a choice, and I’d do it again if I had to.” Riley wasn’t entirely sure the last part was true, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Clearly it was, because Nikki met her gaze, eyes brimmed with tears and a sad smile just barely curving her lips.

“Thank you, Riley.”

The moment hung heavy in the air between them. Riley felt it then, the gravity pulling her toward Nikki—the same force that drew them together outside that art gallery all those years ago, like the universe was telling her they needed each other. Riley spent much of the last two years cursing the universe, but this...this was the one thing the universe did right.

Riley closed the distance between them in two long steps, flinging her arms around Nikki and holding her best friend tight, letting the hug convey the last thing she needed to say.

I’m sorry.

Nikki clutched her just as tightly, like she was afraid Riley would disappear again if she didn’t hold on tight enough.

Breaking the silence, Riley asked, “Do you want to go shopping with me?”

“Like Target and the grocery store shopping? Or maxing-out our credit cards on Rodeo Drive shopping?” Riley snorted. This was normal. Like it was before.

“I, uhh, tried on all my party clothes the other day, and none of them fit anymore.” Riley tucked her face into Nikki’s neck, not wanting to see the pitying look on her friend’s face. She expected another comment, or for Nikki’s hand to feel her ribs, but neither happened. Instead, Nikki simply pressed a kiss to her temple and continued to hold her, with no sign of letting go any time soon.

Almost as if she were an anchor, refusing to let Riley get swept out to sea.

*****

Riley studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The metallic red mini dress she’d bought earlier clung to her curves like she’d been wrapped in plastic. She’d expected pity as she pulled it off the rack, but Nikki had been nothing but reassuring. Even after Riley had sent her from the dressing room again and again to grab a smaller size.

She’d left with a pile of clothes small enough to fit a wraith-like body like Cage’s.

Now the team was at an exclusive party at a mansion in the Hills—courtesy of Cage’s endless social connections—for a little fun. And by fun that meant stealing stuff from a notoriously overbearing, sexist, and overall obnoxious director. He had it coming, to say the least.

Desi had to work— “Drunk assholes won’t bounce themselves out of the club,” she’d snarked—but Jill agreed to tag along. That way she could get her feet wet in a real heist and show the rest of the team what she could do.

The four of them—Riley, Nikki, Cage, and Jill—huddled off to the side of the spacious living room as Cage explained the plan. “Get a load of this,” she said, a feral grin lighting her face. It was one of the things Riley admired most about Cage, her passion for the job. “Six months ago, this guy paid millions at auction for a miniature painting. But because of the crowd that attends his parties, he hides it in his personal safe in his office so nothing happens to it.”

Considering the utter debauchery all around her, Riley didn’t blame him. Every guest had either a drink or pills in hand, often both, and she vaguely recognized the actor snorting cocaine off the kitchen counter. In the darker, more private nooks of the mansion, people slunk to the shadows to devour each other in semi-private. Riley made a point not to look too long in those directions.

Jill clearly hadn’t yet learned to do the same. She asked, wide-eyed, “Whose house is this?”

Nikki gripped her chin and turned Jill’s attention back to the group. “It’s better that you don’t know.”

Frowning, Jill questioned, “Why?” Always so many questions with her.

“Because you’ll chicken out.”

“I will not!” she shrieked. Nikki just smirked. “Okay,” Jill amended in a much quieter tone, “maybe a little.”

“Anyway,” Cage redirected. “I’ll go into the office first and make sure it’s empty.” And remove anyone who is there, she didn’t have to say. “Riley and Nikki will hack the safe—” they both nodded— “and Jill will make sure you two don’t leave any evidence behind.”

Riley itched to get her hands on that safe. Stealing that random man’s wallet a week ago had only made her more hungry to get back out there, doing what she did best. She eyed her team. “Don’t get caught.”

“Don’t get caught,” Nikki and Cage parroted, just like old times, and then Cage melted into the crowd, making her way to the office.

The remaining trio followed at a much slower pace, pretending to admire the eclectic collection of artwork hanging from the walls. Riley’s cursory glance snagged on a cartoonish painting of a pug driving a Porsche on some tropical highway. The director had bizarre taste. Knowing Nikki was doing the same, Riley kept the office door in her peripheral vision, waiting for Cage to reemerge.

Meanwhile, Riley pulled her phone from her clutch. To any onlookers, she was merely responding to a text message, but in reality she was hacking into the director’s home security system. It was easy enough, since the whole thing was connected to his WIFI, and the director was dumb enough to leave his network accessible without a password.

Although, it wasn’t like bypassing a WIFI password would’ve slowed Riley Davis down.

Riley didn’t understand this guy. He hosted drug-fueled ragers in his mansion, yet also cared enough about security to have interior cameras. Why would he want proof of what happens within these walls?

Unless…

Gagging, Riley refused to finish that thought.

Cage emerged a few minutes later with a wasted middle-aged woman in tow. She met Riley’s gaze just long enough for two slow blinks. Coast is clear.

Riley looped the office camera feed so it only showed the empty office, giving them plausible deniability of ever going inside. “Let’s go,” Riley murmured. She slipped into the now-empty office, trusting Nikki and Jill to follow.

The director’s office, like the rest of the mansion, was ultra-modern, all sharp angles and sleek, black and white furniture. A distorted statue of a giraffe was the only exception, standing beside the door like a sentry. It’s glassy black eyes made it seem like it was watching them. Freezing, Riley checked the angle of the camera she’d looped. It matched the giraffe’s eye-level perfectly.

Sneaky bastard. The camera was in the giraffe’s eye. Clever, but creepy.

Embedded in the far wall, behind the director’s messy desk, the safe was relatively new and very high-tech. And while the fancier ones were always harder to crack, user-friendliness came at the cost of security. In the case of this particular safe, the battery compartment for the keypad was part of the keypad itself, so the batteries could be changed easily. But that also meant that by taking out the batteries, someone like Riley would then have direct access to the wires inside the keypad, and thus, an easily hackable way in.

Nikki slid on a pair of cotton gloves before taking out the batteries and wiring the keypad to Riley’s phone. Riley reached back to brush her curls out of her face, but Jill stopped her with a firm hand on her forearm.

“Don’t touch your hair. You don’t want any loose strands to fall on the floor.” Riley raised her brows but did as she was told. “You should’ve worn your hair up.” Jill gestured to her own meticulously pinned bun. No stray hairs would be escaping that thing.

“Good to know.” Riley turned her attention back to cracking the safe.

It took just under a minute.

“Losing your touch?” Nikki teased. “That took forever.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

Once the safe was open, they didn’t waste time poking around. All they cared about was the painting, no matter what other valuable things the safe contained. The painting was even smaller than Riley had pictured. The canvas itself could’ve fit in the palm of her hand, and the frame made the whole thing about the size of a birthday card.

Nikki shoved the painting down the back of her dress, the frame’s sharp angles hidden beneath her ridiculous fringed suede jacket. Considering how well it hid the painting, maybe Riley shouldn’t have made fun of it. But only maybe. It was still ugly.

Riley and Nikki locked the safe, and the trio slipped out of the office undetected.

In short, the heist was flawless.

Nikki immediately peeled off, joining Cage in flitting around the room and saying hi to all sorts of people. Nikki seemed to actually know several of the guests, although not nearly as many as Cage did. Cage was acquainted with everyone worth knowing in LA, plus quite a few who weren’t.

Riley much preferred to be a fly on the wall, watching but not interacting.

Jill stayed back with her, mouth agape at all the blatant drug use. “I’ve lived in LA for a long time, so I know that happens here,” she said, “but, like, it’s different actually seeing it, you know?”

A young couple knocked back a handful of pills with shots of something clear, and Riley grimaced. “You can join in if you want, although I don’t recommend it.”

“Absolutely not!” Jill squeaked.

“Good choice.”

Nikki made her way back to them, slinging her arms around Riley and Jill’s shoulders. “Ready to go?”

Riley had been ready to go the moment they’d locked the safe. If Jill’s overwhelmed expression was any indicator, she was ready too.

All that was left to do was collect Cage.

The blonde stood across the room, batting her eyelashes at an attractive, dark-haired man. Her airy giggle floated above the pulsing music at something the man said. Jill coughed. “Umm…”

Riley quickly put her out of her misery. “It’s fine. Cage flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“She’s just like that,” Nikki added. “Stick with us long enough, and she’ll flirt with you too.”

“Doesn’t that upset Desi?” Riley and Nikki exchanged a knowing look. “Wait, what am I missing?” Jill hissed.

“So many questions,” Riley teased, linking arms with both blondes. Nikki laughed, and together they dodged wasted partiers on their way to grab Cage and go home.

~ Tag List ~ (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@macrileyedits / @hellishrose / @incorret-macgyver-quotes / @mylifequotesshowallofthem / @thecarrieonokay

#beth writes #flawless au #macgyver #riley davis #nikki carpenter #samantha cage #desiree nguyen #jill morgan #macgyver fanfiction

28 notes · View notes

sleepy-exe · 4 years ago

Text

Shapeshifter AU - 5

Iwaizumi x f!reader

<< Part 4 | Part 6 >>

Summary: Y/n makes herself at home in Iwaizumi’s apartment. Oikawa has the wrong idea.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: oikawa just loves his friends, things cool off

Genre: sfw (for now, 18+ regardless), shapeshifter au, strangers to potential enemies to friends to lovers, almost domestic fluff

a/n: More fluff, some domestic-ness. I’m feeling soft, okay. Maybe I just want to watch sunrise with Iwa.

Part 5: Night Owl & Early Bird

Come morning, Y/n was relaxing in the living room on the sofa with a mug in her hands. She didn't get much sleep being in a stranger’s home. Deciding to help with the lack of sleep, she may have done a little digging in the kitchen after seeing a coffee maker on the counter. So here she was, a night owl awake before the sun, coffee in hand, watching the sun begin to rise outside the large window off to the side.

Iwaizumi walked into the living room to check on Y/n as she had refused to swap places and sleep in his bed. Entering the room he found her curled up on the sofa. Legs folded next to her up on the cushions, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, a steaming mug held in both hands in front of her, sitting there in silence.

The morning was dead quiet so she was able to hear him enter the room. Moving her gaze from the window to him, she lets him know there’s more coffee in the kitchen and that she hopes he doesn’t mind that she made a pot of it.

For a moment he just stands there, sleepily registering the situation and what she said. Tiredly, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sweats, he said, “Oh. Yeah, that fine. Thank you, actually.”

He goes to the kitchen to grab his own cup before returning to sit in the armchair she had claimed the night before.

She didn't catch the sound of any alarms going off this morning. “I hope I didn't wake ya. I was trying to stay quiet.”

“No, not at all.” Letting steam from his mug hit his face.

Minus the sound of a few cars outside, the city waking up as well, they sat in silence as the sky started to gain color that was not from artificial lights. Y/n watching out the window and Iwaizumi watching the room begin to fill with what would soon be warm rays. Each of them sipping at their morning coffee.

“I’m not normally up this early.. But it's nice to actually get to see the sun rise for a change.” She looked around the room curiously, noticing little details she missed last night. The various dark colors of the living room rug, the titles of books on the shelves, the little bit of dust on the TV. She looked into her now half empty cup, lost in thought, then back out the window again to catch the sky change color as the sun greeted the city.

No longer staring off himself, he caught the direction of her gaze and looked over his shoulder towards the window. “Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time,” he says, taking in the sight that had become ordinary to him.

Snapping out of her trance, she gives him a soft smile. But it quickly morphed into a mischievous grin and she teased, “Did ya think I was snooping while you were asleep? Or robbing ya?”

He scowled. “Can’t say the possibility didn't cross my mind..” He looked back to their coffees and lightly shook his. “I mean, you must have snooped some.”

She smiled into her mug before taking a sip then lowering it just barely from her mouth, ready to drink from it again. “I kept it to a minimum.” She looked up from her coffee. “I only looked for coffee after seeing the coffee maker. Was too tempting this early to not try to find some.”

He laughed. “Yeah, well, that’s fair.”

They sat in silence one more, watching as the sun moved through the sky, and finishing off their coffees.

Once morning had officially arrived, Y/n broke the silence. “I should probably get out of your hair.”

There’s no reason to be here now.

But she kind of wants to stay a little longer.

Then Iwaizumi spoke up, “You’re not bothering me, and I’m not busy until lunch with Tooru. Stay if you’d like.” He sits his mug on the coffee table. “I’d hate to send a guest home without at least making them breakfast.”

This wolf is hungry.

She smiled and accepted his offer, “Only if I get to help with it.”

He smirked. “As long as you don't get it the way.” Standing, he heads for the kitchen, mug forgotten on the table. Y/n quickly gets up, but not without her blanket cape and coffee, and runs after him.

In the kitchen he is gathering whatever he needs to make breakfast. Ingredients, pans, dishes. Turning from a drawer he catches sight of her cozied up in her blanket, both hands occupied by her cup. He gestures to her with a container in hand, “Oh yes. It definitely looks like you’ll be helping.”

“Really gonna make a girl abandon her coffee and warm blanket,” she teased back.

He paused, eyeing her for a moment before returning to the ingredients he was laying out. “Guess not,” he half said to himself.

She hummed briefly, then let out a small breath. She sat her coffee down before swiftly twirling the blanket off her shoulders and onto a dining chair behind her. Returning to her mug, she noticed him staring at her again. She tilted her head. “What can I help with?”

After eating their breakfast, they cleaned up the kitchen together, Y/n refusing to let him clean alone. They seemed to be getting along great which surprised her. She was really expecting the night to go bad, never mind making it to morning without the worst happening. Not that she’s complaining.

Once the kitchen was clean again, Iwaizumi left the kitchen to go get ready. He had plans with Oikawa this afternoon and planned on picking him up from the hotel beforehand. While he was off to shower, Y/n retreated to the living room to check her phone.

Swapping through apps, she checked her schedule for the day to confirm she didn't have anything until afternoon herself, just needing to reply to a few work emails for now. Midway through her emails, she got a few text notifications from Oikawa that interrupted her work.

>> From ‘Oi-chan’: “Omg disregard that!”

>> From 'Oi-chan': “But I mean”

>> From 'Oi-chan': “You can join us for lunch if you want :)”

>> To 'Oi-chan': “lol its cool but I can’t make it”

>> To 'Oi-chan': “work :(“

She giggled to herself, then returned to the work emails. She managed to get them done before Iwaizumi returned and moved on to making some notes for meetings coming up. He lingered by the sofa where she was stretched out on her back, hovering her phone above her face. Peeking around her phone to get her attention he asked, “Do you have today off too?”

She peeked around her phone too. “Nah, I’m working.” She shook her phone at him. “But I’m not going into the office today. All my calls aren’t until after 1pm and I can get minor things done on my phone so.. I’m just doing that stuff real quick.”

“Huh.. What is it that you do? Besides office work, apparently,” he questioned as he left her line of sight and she returned to her phone.

“Uh.. Nothing exciting.” Eyes locked on her screen as she typed away. “Just logistics and stuff for a company that sales and manages things for other businesses.. I in particular mostly work with clothing lines and the like.. Things like coordinating shipments.. But I get to spend most of my time at a computer.. Like I said, nothing exciting.”

“Well, I don’t know, that sounds like it's probably good work.” It sounded like he was elsewhere in the apartment now, but she could still make out what he was saying.

“Yeah.. But it sounds like you and everyone else have fun jobs,” she contemplated, temporarily pulling her attention from her work to stare at the ceiling. “You get to work directly with professional teams, Mizuki is a model for a- company.”

“Mizuki?” His voice was closer now, but she had already directed her attention back to her phone.

“She’s a close friend I met in college. She finished her degree in marketing, but she started modeling in college and, I don't know.. She likes what she does.”

“Well, it's good to like what you do. Good for her,” his voice was heard from a distance again, “You said she works for a company?”

“Yeah, uh.. A clothing line.” Whatever she's doing, she's deeply invested. Completely missing Iwaizumi pulling the blankets and pillows from the sofa, minus the pillow currently in use.

“Hmm. That’s good.”

Closing her apps, she dropped her phone onto the sofa and sat up, just now noticing the missing mugs from the coffee table along with the missing blankets.

Pulling her legs into her seat, she heard a knock at the front door. Whipping her head up she saw Iwaizumi already at the door, opening it.

One Oikawa Tooru appeared with his luggage, which he dropped to the floor as soon as he entered the apartment. “Hello, Iwa-chan,” he sang.

“Oikawa, I told you I’d pick you up from the hotel! You didn't need to-”

“I got bored waiting around for you, so I checked out a little early.” Removing his shoes, he noticed Y/n. “Oh? Wait..” He frowned. “I thought you’re too busy for lunch! What happened to work?”

“Well, I just haven’t left for work yet.” She smiled sheepishly. “Though I should be getting ready to leave.”

“You don't have to rush off because of Oikawa.“ He glared at his friend’s accusations. “Ignore him.”

Y/n stood. “No, really I should consider traffic and prep for my first call of the day. Don’t wanna be late!” With that she headed off to the bathroom.

And Oikawa scrutinized her as she walked away. As soon as she was closed in the bathroom, he smirked to Iwaizumi. “Aren’t those your clothes?”

He glared once more. “Don’t.”

“Did she stay with you last night?”

“Oikawa.”

Part 6 >>

17 notes · View notes

waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 4 years ago

Text

In a Parallel Universe

Could it be... fluff? The happy, uplifting tone of this can entirely be credited to Mustafa as a muse. I truly believe the man should be held up as an example of how to be a good human and how to be masculine without it becoming toxic. (The way he is treated by WWE, much like that other paragon of positive masculinity Sami Zayn, is something I can angrily rant about another time.)

Pairing: Mustafa Ali x reader (platonic)

Word count: 2,659

Content advisory: Racism/ racist language

“Did you ever have a thing for me?”

Your eyes widen in shock as you look back at Mustafa, your best friend, wondering if you’ve heard him correctly. He’s looking at you with those big, ingenuous eyes, as if he’s just asked you if you’ve decided what you want for dinner. In all the time you’ve known each other you’ve never once brought up the subject of romantic interest or physical attraction and yet here he is, just throwing it out there.

You’re watching your daughters collaborate on a colouring project that might as well be “Guernica” for how seriously they’re taking it.

The bell-like laughter of his wife and mother-in-law is drifting in from the back patio where they’re taking some much-needed time alone together.

You’re waiting on your husband Jake, who’s already sent four apologetic texts about how the Saturday he’s been called into work keeps dragging on, promising that he’ll be there as soon as he can, but that he doesn’t expect you to hold up the barbeque just for him. (Even though he knows you will.)

You laugh a little and squint at him, as if what he’s asked is somehow ridiculous. But it’s not ridiculous. Two heterosexual people who’ve been close friends for so long… it would almost be weird if there hadn’t been any sexual tension. Nevertheless, you think of just rolling your eyes and blowing the subject off. It would be easy enough to do. But his unwavering earnestness has always demanded respect and honesty and it’s possible that he knows the answer already. You certainly do.

“I guess,” you begin, aware that your voice is wavering a little, “early on. I had a bit of a crush.”

Is that the truth? In as much as feeling can be summed up in so few words, yes. It wasn’t like you’d been pining and crying yourself to sleep at night, but sure, you’d felt it. You’d approached him to ask if you could train with him after the two of you had worked a few of the same local shows where the wrestlers outnumbered the audience members. Yes, you’d been beyond impressed with his skills but you’d also noticed how very, very cute he was.

“I mean, everyone did,” you assure him. “All the girls liked you.”

Not all the girls had your confidence or your desire to really break in to the wrestling world, though. So you’d been the one to steel yourself and walk up to him at the gym one night and ask if he’d help you. It was a calculated risk, you figured: he could refuse, he could give it a shot and get bored or irritated and walk away, he could help you become a better wrestler even if he wasn’t interested in more, he could feel your skills were hopeless but also decide you were attractive enough to pursue, or he could want to be both a training partner and something more. Five possible outcomes, three of which worked in your favour. You’d always been clever with numbers and the numbers clearly gave you a better than even chance of a positive result.

He laughs shyly and looks down at the idea that “all the girls” had found him attractive. It’s not that he’s ever been insecure about his looks and charm, exactly, but he’s never been the sort of arrogant prick who’s assumed everyone must be in love or lust with him. And that’s always been part of his charm; confident enough not to seem needy but humble enough to appreciate the attention.

Of course, you’ve always been a little surprised that he doesn’t have more of an ego. The luscious mane of black hair, the smile that could power a small city, the toned body that never crossed into that lumpy, bulgy look that too many of your counterparts developed, and most of all those huge, soulful eyes… The man was infuriatingly flawless and even now it’s not like you are immune to the occasional whisper of desire.

“Shit. I never did anything to hurt you, did I?”

And then there was the personality. Mustafa had always been too great of a guy to be real. He’d been your rock. Whenever things ground you down, he was the one who could build you up again. When you got angry and depressed at the state of the world, he’d commiserate but he’d also be able to give you hope, if only because a world that produced someone as awesome as he was couldn’t be all bad.

You could honestly say that without him, you’d never have fought your way out of the indies and into the big leagues. That wasn’t just because training with him made you a stronger, better wrestler. It was because the two of you had been able to lean on each other when things were rough. And damn, things had been rough at times.

When the two of you had graduated from bar shows for disinterred old men drinking watered-down beer and playing slot machines, you’d been beyond excited. The shows you got invited to took place in gymnasiums and legion halls and church basements with actual audiences who had come specifically to watch the wrestling. You knew it wasn’t the big time; you were excited, not stupid. But it was progress and a lot of people you knew hadn’t even made it that far. You’d grounded yourselves by talking about your meager pay and by calculating how much you’d earned per bruise at each show.

One of the larger, or at least more successful promotions that had booked you had provided an eye-opening experience. The promoter was a corpulent man with a mouth full of lumps that barely counted as teeth and breath to match. He’d called both two of you aside a few hours before your first show to tell you the gimmick that he had in mind for the two of you. It had come as a bit of a surprise because although you were friends, you’d never teamed up in the ring. You’d reveled in being the foul-mouthed heel, while he had, of course, been a natural baby face. (And if you were honest, so few people knew who you were that your characters hadn’t ever mattered.)

“I wanna do a thing with the two of you,” the promoter began, sweat already dampening his forehead and staining the armpits of his cheap shirt. “You two are gonna be like a pair of terrorists. You can fight all the American guys- and girls- and get them over with the crowd. Get the audience riled up.”

The two of you had stared back at him in horror, jaws slack.

“I’m thinking something like ‘Osama and Elle Qaeda’ for your names.” His brow furrowed as he processed another idea. “Can you come up with some shit to yell in Arabic?”

You remembered thinking that it must be some kind of joke. Al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden were products of the Arabian Peninsula. Mustafa’s parents were Pakistani and Indian. Yours were Kurds from southern Turkey. Not one of your parents even spoke Arabic. But more to the point, the two of you were American. You were both born and bred in Chicago. Neither of you had any hint of an accent. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

The promoter looked at you impatiently. Mustafa recovered his voice enough to stammer through an explanation of your ethnicity, only to be greeted with a look of supreme indifference and boredom.

“Look,” he said sharply, “it doesn’t matter. You have the look. Around here you’re all sand ni-“

Remembering that night still hurts. The pain has dulled over time because at the moment he’d said it, it felt like you’d been shot in the chest. For a few moments you’d been afraid that you were actually going to vomit. Growing up in a racially mixed area, your features and your family name had been ambiguous enough that people thought that people usually guessed that you were Greek or Italian before they got to Turkish or even broadly Middle Eastern. You’d been proud to declare that you were descended from the little-known but courageous and resilient Kurds. But out here in the wider world, you were an Arab and therefore a terrorist. The Indian subcontinent, birthplace of so many cultures, arts, religions and philosophies, crossroads of empires, might as well have never existed. Mustafa was an Arab and therefore a terrorist.

Seeing what he perceived as hesitation, the promoter scowled at both of you. “Give it a shot,” he counseled. “It’s the only way people are gonna take you seriously.”

You and Mustafa smile at each other, as if you’ve both been recalling the painful judgments you’d faced together, as if you’re amazed you survived let alone flourished. You’d pulled each other through.

“I’d always kind of wondered if you’d ever liked me,” he says shyly.

Yes, you think, you had. You were a tall, muscular girl. It had made sense that you work with a male training partner. So he’d been happy to work with you and you were thrilled to be able to learn from him. You felt yourself improving every time you practiced together. But your mind had often drifted to how it would feel to have his arms wrapped around you in other circumstances. More than once you’d been tempted to close the scant distance between your lips just to see how he’d react.

“I liked you,” he adds, eyes snapping up to see your reaction.

You do your best to mask your shock. “You did?”

“Sure. C’mon, look at you.”

Your mouth feels a little dry. The sounds from the patio have faded and even the children have fallen silent.

“Maybe not right away because I thought you were kind of scary, to be honest,” he chuckles. “But after we’d been hanging around, I don’t know, about a year or so, I really liked you.”

You can’t help but laugh at the idea that you were scary. Maybe you’d thought you could be scary to some of the smaller, less experienced women you’d fought. But to someone on your level both skill-wise and vertically? No.

“I’m serious. I wasn’t desperate or anything but I remember thinking a lot about what might have happened if I’d made a move.”

You wonder about the math in your head. You hadn’t entertained those thoughts about him for all that long. Sure he was hot, but as you’d risen through the ranks together, he’d quickly come to seem like a brother. The idea of the two of you being a couple had started to seem weird. You’d thought about it less the longer you spent together, so it was strange for you to think that as you’d gotten over your initial crush, he’d begun thinking of you in that way.

Your shared reverie is interrupted as his little girl climbs into his lap, sour-faced and frustrated that she’s running out of brown crayons. The work of art that your girls are creating relies heavily on earth tones for the ground, for the tree trunks and bushes, and, you note happily, for the different faces of the people occupying the epic landscape they’ve made. There are all sorts of shades of people and there just aren’t enough brown crayons to build the different tones.

Your daughter purses her lips in a look of stubborn determination you’ve come to know all too well. She’s grabbed red crayons, orange crayons, yellow crayons, green crayons, whatever she can get her hands on to colour in her people. She’s as upset as her friend that there aren’t enough browns but she would never let on. As ridiculous as it seems, you’re actually a little intimidated by just how headstrong she is. Now that she’s learned the alphabet, she seems like she’s about ready to move out and start kicking ass.

She casts a quick glance in your direction and you have to hold back a gasp at her fierce, beautiful eyes. Looking at her face, you’re gob smacked by the idea that something that gorgeous came out of you. It’s like looking at the sun. It’s even stranger to think that she could be the product of the wild, all-encompassing lust that you and your husband had- still have- for each other. How could something that seemed so deliciously sinful produce something so perfect?

You glance back at Mustafa, whose attention is now completely absorbed in his daughter’s lecture on the need for more brown crayons. She’s articulate far beyond her years and you hope beyond hope that years of school won’t convince her to hide her intelligence the way girls of your generation did.

It’s possible that there was a time when your desire for Mustafa and his for you overlapped, that there was an opening when the two of you could have touched lips and fallen into each other as if nothing else in the world existed. The two of you would probably have been a power couple in the industry. Your dazzling combination of skills would have been irresistible. With the way your families have come to love the both of you, it’s likely they would have moved beyond the cultural differences that absolutely do exist, no matter what some ignorant arsehole might have told you when he insisted you were both Arab terrorists.

And it is most definitely possible that the two of you would be sitting in a living room just like this, embracing as you observed your children colouring or playing video games, or chasing each other around with rubber swords, or, worst of all, trying to emulate what they saw their parents doing on television. And perhaps as you watched, you’d look at each other and touch lips with all the tenderness in your souls and you would be filled to the point of bursting with happiness.

But then there would be no…

There would be no Jake, the man who made you realize what true, unadulterated love really was. You would never have had someone make you laugh the way that he can, make you laugh so much that your ribs ache for hours. There would never have been the man who taught you how to curse in Irish or how to snowboard. And you would not have your daughter, so filled with her father’s sarcasm and stubbornness.

For that matter, you would never have had Mustafa’s wife as your friend. When Jake had been hit by a car while riding his bike to work, you would not have had her comforting arms and her voice to pull you through the agonizing days when doctors cautioned you not to be too hopeful about his prognosis. You would never have had that feeling of someone strong enough to hold you up yet tender enough to nurture you through the pain.

A few hours later, the gang of you are gathered around the picnic-style table in the back yard. Mustafa, his wife, her parents, you, Jake, his brother who’s been run ragged by his job more than any of you, and, of course, your children. You’re all laughing so hard that it’s a legitimate danger that the neighbours will call the police with a noise complaint. You make a clever joke and Jake, impressed by your wit as he always is, presses a light kiss against your neck. You feel the familiar thrill move through you, suddenly thinking that it’s time to wind things down and head home. Just for a second, your eyes connect with Mustafa’s and there is this perfect, still moment when you can see that there could be an alternate universe where the two of you would be together, something that might have been better or worse or neither. But then the moment is passed, and you’re once again back in this universe with the lives that you love.

#wrestling fanfic #wrestling imagine #mustafa ali #mustafa ali imagine #wwe imagine #mustafa ali x reader #wayward wrestle writing

35 notes · View notes

needtherapy · 4 years ago

Text

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 17

A story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;)

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 17 Earlier

Xichen didn’t see Jin Guangyao again for days, largely because Mingjue barely let him leave his tent, as though trying to reassure Xichen that Jin Guangyao’s presence created no change. It was less reassuring than he intended, because Xichen thought that if his position here with Mingjue was wholly secure, perhaps he wouldn’t need so much reassuring.

Still, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy Mingjue’s presence seeping into every empty space of his life. Xichen had already learned that it was as earth-shattering to give pleasure as it was to receive it, and he had spent the winter months making a very thorough exploration of Mingjue’s body. There was almost no end to the things Mingjue was willing to let Xichen try, and he was, himself, remarkably inventive.

But he loved the small domesticity of Mingjue in the morning almost as much, of waking next to him, listening to the way his breathing shifted so suddenly from asleep to awake. He always seemed surprised to find Xichen with him, surprised and delighted, stretching his arms and pulling Xichen to him the same way every day.

With the siege temporarily eased, Mingjue was less busy, and most of what he did was familiar to Xichen, the work of running a city rather than commanding an army. There were internal conflicts to settle, supplies to organize, and plans to make for the future. Mingjue did most of it from the comfort of Xichen’s bed, to the great amusement of his generals. As Mingjue’s grasp of Yuyan and Xichen’s skill in Orera improved, Mingjue began asking Xichen’s opinion about everything, from the small issues of disagreements between the horse trainers and romantic entanglements gone awry, to the bigger and less exciting problems of crop rotation, food storage, and waste removal.

It wasn’t all work. In the down times, he fed Xichen rare mountain plums, massaged his back with jasmine cream and sweet-smelling oils, and braided Xichen’s hair in complicated twists and plaits, as doting a lover as Xichen could ever have imagined, and he reveled in being cared for. The only indulgence Xichen truly felt guilty about involved the copper tub.

Prior to winter, the huge tub had been used mostly for washing clothes. When it had been warmer, Xichen had bathed the way the rest of the Ikarahu did: very quickly in the cold river. Once the weather shifted, bathing tents were set up near the river and a team of Ikarahu mages moved and warmed water for baths. It was still cold, but warmer than Xichen’s bathing at home would have been in winter.

It was not, however, Mingjue’s preference. He liked hot baths and decided to convert Xichen to his point of view.

It took dozens of people to move water from the river on the eastern side of the camp to the huge cauldron that sat on a magical fire in the center of camp. No one seemed to mind obliging their commander, although Xichen found it embarrassing that everyone knew when he bathed. Mingjue had just laughed and asked how it was different than bathing in the communal tents, and Xichen didn’t have an answer for that.

He was immediately won over when he sank into water hot enough to sting, and he nearly cried with happiness. Apparently, the sound he made was such that Mingjue stripped and joined him, settling Xichen in front of him and washing his hair with gentle fingers until Xichen could no longer stand the positively provoking way his body was rubbing against Xichen’s under the water. Xichen rolled over to provoke him back, sloshing water over the sides of the tub in a flurry of kisses. Mingjue’s solution was even messier, pulling Xichen out of the tub and tossing him onto the bed, which made Xichen laugh and shiver at the heat in Mingjue’s eyes. Luckily, the copper tub kept the water warm enough to still be enjoyable after their not-so-brief interlude.

It was almost enough to make him forget the flutter of Jin Guangyao’s long eyelashes when he looked at Mingjue.

Despite Mingjue’s efforts to keep him distracted, Xichen had seen and even talked to Guangyao in the common areas of camp, usually with Huaisang hovering nearby. But sometimes Jin Guangyao was sitting alone, always watching the men and women around him but never interacting. Xichen couldn’t help wondering what Jin Guangyao did to occupy his time.

Xichen finally decided to take the initiative. He couldn’t ignore the man forever. The next time he saw Jin Guangyao alone, leaning on a hitching post and watching the munaku training, he stopped.

“Jin-gongzi, I notice you are fond of the munaku. Have you seen the eagles hunting as well?” Xichen asked, and Jin Guangyao’s smile filled his face.

“Zewu-Jun, this one has only seen them in the distance. Oringa’anhu Ikira says they are too dangerous to approach. They are magnificent, even from afar, although this one would be willing to take the risk.”

He seemed to be watching Xichen’s face carefully, as though gauging his reaction, and Xichen wondered what he was looking for. He made an impulsive decision.

“Jin-gongzi, would you allow me to share a pot of Zhao tea with you tomorrow? I do not know if you have had Ikarahu tea yet, but...it is likely not what you are used to, and it is always a pleasure to drink good tea with someone who appreciates it.”

Jin Guangyao blinked in surprise and then chuckled. “Indeed, Zewu-Jun, this one has tried the...tea. It would be an honor to avoid sampling it again.”

Xichen laughed despite himself. At least they had that in common.

He’d taken Jin Guangyao one of the many potted plants Mingjue had gifted him in the autumn along with the tea. When he arrived, Jin Guangyao was writing at a table piled high with books, something else they had in common. Even though Xichen still found Jin Guangyao more cautious than necessary, always correcting his course to avoid any offense, he was easy to talk to, never at a loss for words, and Xichen’s dislike thawed. It was harder to hate someone he didn’t know.

However, the first time Jin Guangyao visited Xichen, more than two weeks after he arrived, was entirely without warning on a bath day. Jin Guangyao had shown himself to be so unflaggingly proper in every other way, his unannounced appearance at the tent entry came as an unwelcome shock. It wasn’t precisely rude, but it set Xichen off balance, and he had to scramble to recover.

“Zewu-Jun, the camp is so large! There must be a thousand tents. This one struggled to find this tent, only to discover how near it is after walking down many other rows,” Jin Guangyao laughed, bright and winsome as he shook snow off his clothes, and it helped erase Xichen’s annoyance at being interrupted.

And then Jin Guangyao saw Mingjue sitting cross-legged on the bed, his still-damp braids loose around his shoulders. It was obvious the moment Guangyao noticed him, because his posture changed slightly, as though a rope was pulled taut inside his body, and he bowed respectfully.

“Ipira’orhew Ikira, this one did not expect such an honor.”

Mingjue was eating a plum, cutting into it with the sharp blade of a small curved dagger, and he nodded at Jin Guangyao with a smile. Xichen took that to mean he didn’t mind Jin Guangyao’s presence, so he invited the man to join them. Xichen had been playing the guqin before Jin Guangyao arrived, and he wasn’t sure if he should continue, but Mingjue grinned beseechingly at him.

“Edas ahora, will you finish the song?”

Xichen sat back down behind the instrument, settling his fingers against the strings. Jin Guangyao chose one of the large cushions in front of Xichen to sit on, but only after darting an assessing look at Mingjue that was altogether too interested.

“Zewu-Jun is a master musician,” Jin Guangyao exclaimed, his dark eyes alight with what looked like genuine admiration when Xichen finished a song about peonies fading in summer.

“Thank you, Jin-gongzi,” Xichen replied, unable to be informal in the face of this man’s unflinching politeness.

“Do you play?” Mingjue asked, laying back against the bed pillows and crossing his ankles.

He popped a piece of plum in his mouth and raised his eyebrows curiously. He looked relaxed and decadent, and, in Xichen’s opinion, gorgeous. Xichen was not surprised by the minute flare of Jin Guangyao’s nostrils and fleeting lift of his eyebrows before he shook his head regretfully.

“Only a little. This one’s skill is minor by comparison. My talents lie elsewhere.” He looked away with a flush, and added, “I write poetry, sometimes.”

Xichen played through two more songs before Mingjue stretched, back arched, arms above his head, catching both Xichen and Jin Guangyao’s full attention. He got up and kissed Xichen’s forehead, touching a thumb to his lips. “Da iko auha, Ahora’ipa.”

To Xichen’s surprise, he ruffled the top of Jin Guangyao’s head on his way out. “I see you, too, Guangyao.”

The look that passed over Jin Guangyao’s face was mostly baffled. But not entirely.

“He does have that effect,” Xichen murmured, trying to repress the flare of irritation.

Jin Guangyao instantly schooled his expression into neutrality. “He is different than this one expected,” he said flatly, and then added with a deferential tip to his head, “Zewu-Jun, may this one ask? What does Ahora’ipa mean?”

It was an interesting question, as Xichen was quite sure Jin Guangyao knew precisely what the endearment meant. But perhaps he was asking for the deeper understanding of the phrase, which Xichen himself was still not fully sure of.

“It means ‘well loved,’ and it seems to be the Ikarahu equivalent to Zewu-Jun. When my family arranged the treaty with the Ikarahu, one of the terms was that I would be given…” Xichen paused, trying to be mindful of the lie he is about to tell. “I would be given ‘equal status.’ I believe it is in acknowledgement of my rank as my father’s heir and commander.”

Although it was true that the contract specified that he was “given in equal status,” Xichen had never understood why he was granted a title, as he knew perfectly well the title was not part of the agreement for Wangji, nor was it part of the rewritten contract Xichen created. Perhaps it had been in an earlier draft of the negotiations, but to ask would make it clear that he deceived the Ikarahu without his family’s knowledge, and he was still not certain how that news would be received. If nothing else, it would disclose how he had lied to them, and he was not eager to face that revelation.

Jin Guangyao nodded thoughtfully, a small crease between his eyes. “It is a title, then. Undoubtedly one that has been earned, given the way it is said around camp.”

Xichen felt his cheeks heating, and he was quick to soften the possible insult that, despite their similar status and station, Jin Guangyao was given no title by the Ikarahu, “Ipira’orhew Ikira is fond of endearments for people he knows well. Ahora’ipa, treasured one, beloved man…it is just his way.”

Jin Guangyao smiled, wider than Xichen had seen before. “You are different than I expected as well,” he said, creasing the dimples into his cheeks.

The shift to informality took Xichen by surprise, as did the implication that Jin Guangyao had expectations of Xichen. How could he have known anything about Xichen other than gossip?

“Your brother sends his regards,” Jin Guangyao said softly, and Xichen jolted upright, standing before he could take a breath.

He dropped to the ground next to Jin Guangyao and gripped his hand. “You have seen Wan...Hanguang-Jun?” he asked, hoping, hoping.

“No, Zewu-Jun,” Jin Guangyao said kindly. “I wrote to him to congratulate him on being made heir of the Lan clan and again when my father...when I was asked to come here.”

He has already been announced as heir. Of course his father would not delay. Wangji must hate it, Xichen thought, and his heart sank when he realized that all he had done was lock his brother in a second prison instead of the first.

No, he could not believe that. At least at home, Wangji would have the chance for happiness with his archer. Here, there would have been no hope. Wangji was fair and just, and he would learn to be a fine leader of the Lan clan.

“Did he...send anything...for me?” The question feels childish, and he knew it was unfair to expect his brother to send a message when Xichen had not, but he was filled with an overwhelming sense of loss for the conversations he would never have with his brother. This was the closest he had been to Wangji in months; he couldn’t help asking.

Did he imagine the hesitation?

“No, Zewu-Jun, but he did say he had not heard from you since you left?” Jin Guangyao said tentatively, the question in his voice inviting Xichen to explain.

Xichen felt guilty for suspecting him of hiding something. It was Xichen who was hiding. He couldn’t even explain it. He couldn’t explain all the letters he wrote and discarded, the words he did not dare share with his brother. Wangji would never believe him. I am sorry I deceived you. I am happy here. And even if I was not, you are safe.

In the end, he had written only once to his father, shortly after his birthday, saying the words he knew would protect his brother and the Cloud Recesses. This is my choice. I am safe. Evidently his father had not chosen to share that with Wangji, which is an anger Xichen can not show Jin Guangyao. For the first time, he wonders if he made a mistake in not trying to convince Wangji that he was happy. He hadn’t wanted to drive a wedge between his father and brother, and he hadn’t been certain if Wangji would believe anything he said. No, he knows Wangji. He would be angry with Xichen for deceiving him, but he was prudent and thoughtful, and he would never endanger the Cloud Recesses. A contract was a contract, no matter how much he might hate it. Understanding of the ramifications and his natural cautiousness would keep Wangji from taking any action.

“I left abruptly and...I was angry,” he said, hoping Jin Guangyao would accept his equivocation. “Anything I said now would be a disappointment to them.”

Jin Guangyao’s peals of laughter sounded forced from him, and he covered his mouth. Xichen raised his eyebrows, puzzled.

“Oh, Zewu-Jun,” he finally managed, “It is only that...I have never considered what it would be like to not disappoint my family.”

It was such a terrible thing to say, Xichen felt it must be the truth. He wanted to reassure Jin Guangyao, but he didn’t know this man or his family, and he didn’t want to appear either cruel or condescending.

“My brother would not be disappointed in me, but I did not want to put him in the position of having to tell my father that I was not unhappy,” he said, exchanging a truth for a truth.

“No, you do not seem to be.”

Jin Guangyao looked around the tent speculatively and Xichen flushed. He was not ashamed. He was not. He had not expected to ever feel anything but loneliness and resentment, and what he had found was, at the very least, friendship and acceptance. Xichen didn’t think there was any nobility in seeking out unhappiness, but it was difficult to admit his contentment to this man who was his countryman.

“Of course, I mean no judgement, Zewu-Jun,” he added, understanding Xichen’s reaction. “But if you would like the company of someone who can, perhaps, appreciate your situation, I would take comfort in having a friend who can appreciate mine.”

The words meant one thing, Xichen thought. But the slow smile and the sidelong look said something quite different indeed.

Notes: Da iko auha, Ahora’ipa. = I will return, Ahora’ipa

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #soaring au #nie mingjue #lan xichen #nielan #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #sangyao #mdzs au #cql au #Kristina writes tiny stories #complete on ao3

5 notes · View notes

write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years ago

Text

A Hunter’s Prey: Hotel Rooms and Pins

Being so close to the Republic of Padokea was strange. In the far off distance, I could almost see the outline of Kukuroo Mountain. Heaven’s Arena was on the same continent as where I was held captive for so long. We had been traveling here ever since the day after Chrollo and I’s ‘date.’

Most of the walking was dedicated to my thought process on how I would speak to Illumi once I was there. Many times during the trip, Machi had stopped to ask what was on my mind. As much as I wanted to tell her, I couldn’t. My revelation needed to be discussed with Illumi first.

The only solace was the bickering between Machi and Shalnark. They seem like old best friends even though they have almost nothing in common. Since we had such a long trip, Shalnark had brought along a handheld gaming system. He only brought it out when we were on a transportation method; however, if Chrollo would let him, he’d be playing while we were walking.

Heaven’s Arena was a massive structure that could only be truly seen through squinted eyes as it went to the sun. “Finally here,” said Shalnark in a chipper tone. “I can finally play my games in peace!”

“I can’t help it if I’m better at them than you,” joked Machi. I rolled my eyes at the typical scenario. She only said that to tick him off. And, of course, it did. Chrollo didn’t care about the back and forth. Instead, his focus was only on the arena.

“You ready?” I asked him. He held a cold, stoic demeanor but I could feel tension.

“Yes,” he said. “Are you?”

“No,” I confessed. “I still haven’t planned what I’ll say.”

Chrollo chuckled before taking steps to walk into the arena. Kortopi and I followed while Machi and Shalnark were still fighting over her comment. I doubted that they would be coming anytime soon.

The front guest lady treated Chrollo and his guests like royalty: the perk of being a floor leader. We were taken to this room close to the top floor. The skyline was a beautiful mess of city and country. From this vantage point, it was almost impossible to not see the mountain that held the family of assassins. Chrollo had yet to tell me what Illumi would be at this fight. He had also neglected to tell me who he would be fighting.

“Nice room boss,” said Kortopi. He was easily scouring around the room in hopes of finding treasure that was held within the inclosed space. He easily found a vase and started to make a copy.

“Don’t waste your Nen,” replied Chrollo as he stood beside me while I looked out at the ground. “I’ll borrow it from you when you get a chance. You might need to get Salnark to come up here because one of them is going to die if we don’t check on the two.” Kortopi nodded his head. His hair flying in all directions before scurrying out of the room to get the bickering members.

“How do you know Illumi will be here?” It was the question that plagued my mind ever since I’d been invited on this journey.

“Because my opponent is Hisoka.” His words were as poignant and void of any emotion. I remember back to my meeting of Hisoka many weeks ago. Machi and his pissing match was all I could remember of the killer clown.

“And?”

“Illumi and him have an interesting relationship.” Chrollo walked back to the single bed in the room and sat down. His eyes were transfixed on the black, leather book that lay within his hands. “Illumi would not miss this fight for the world.”

I decided not to press the topic further due to Chrollo’s furrowing demeanor and hurried hands. The typical strong man was going over his notes again and again. His study was like a master musician playing an strenuous instrument. I could see the gears of preparation moving deep within the recesses of his mind. Even though he said he wasn’t worried, there was a thin crease on his brow.

I found myself to become occupied within the context of my own mind. If Illumi was to be here, then when would he arrive. What if he was already here? Would I run into him as I go to the snack machine down the hall? If so, I have to figure out the best words to say what I feel. Coming out with love would be a bit too strong for someone who hasn’t text or talked in a week.

Machi, Shalnark and Kortopi finally showed up after thirty minutes. My guess was that it took that long for them to calm down enough to be in the same elevator. The flight up was a little long.

“So Boss,” said Machi, taking a seat on a chair that was next to a small kitchen set within the room. “We saw Hisoka entering the building a little bit ago.”

“It has begun,” smirked Chrollo before standing up. “I must talk to the people in charge about a few preparations for the fights. I have one host that I like a lot more than others. I’ll be back before the fight so that I can borrow Shalnark and Kortopi’s Nen. In the meantime, enjoy the space.”

The three seemed uninterested. It’s like they knew this place more than anyone else here. “Oh, Y/N,” said Chrollo. “I told the others but do not be in the arena for the fight. Watch it on the screen. Make sure anyone you want to be alive does that as well.”

With that final word, Chrollo disappeared. It was a warning that I should find Illumi before the fight. From the T.V that Shalnark had turned on, the announcer said that the fight would be happening in a day. I had 24 hours to find Illumi and make sure he is not in the arena tomorrow..

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

I told the rest of the team that I was going to take a walk throughout the hotel to find something to eat. It was a lie but Machi wouldn’t appreciate what I was actually doing. I made sure to note where the room was before I went on my grandiose adventure to find him.

My first stop was the ground floor to see if anyone had seen him. The response of the workers was that no one by that name had registered for a fight or had purchased a ticket to see the fight.

My next idea was to continually wander the hallways until I found him. I peaked my head into a few matches to see if he was there. None of the arena’s held Illumi. As tall as this building was, the prospect of finding him was getting smaller and smaller.

By the time that I had reached the 200th floor, I had yet to see any source of the long haired man. I was becoming tired and hungry. I was going to give up my search when I noticed a red headed clown standing at the end of the hallway.

“Hisoka!” I couldn’t tell if my cry was out of fear or excitement. If Illumi and him did have a friendship then he might know where Illumi could be. My outburst had caused his attention to be turned away from whatever his goal was before.

“Oh hello~. I can’t believe that Illu would bring you to this fight.”

“He didn't,'' I said.

“Then I’m even more surprised that you were able to get up to the 200 floor. I would’ve knocked you out by the third~.”

“-No,” I interrupt. “I’m not a fighter either. I’m here to find Illumi. Have you seen him or know where he might be?”

A sly smile crossed his painted face. It was a smile that would kill someone if they looked at him the wrong way. Here I was asking a murder for advice on my assassin significant other. No. We were broken up. My assassin ex. “My information comes at a cost~. Why do you want to know here poor Illu is?”

I sigh knowing that this was my only lead. The vibes he gave off sent a shiver down my spine. If I was smart, I would head back and find Machi. Hisoka gave off more powerful vibes than Illumi ever did. It must be their personalities.

“What would you like to know?”

“Why aren’t you with Illu~. Decide you were too good for him?” Hisoka put emphasis on his statement with a wink.

“No,” I stutter at his boldness. However, Hisoka was right. I did decide I was too good for him. That is the reason I left. Now I want him back. “Well yes, “ I corrected. “It was a mutual thing. Now I want to see him.”

“Ah Illu~” Hisoka sighed dramatically. “He needs to learn how to keep a girl. I should show him after the fight-”

“-I told you so where is he?”

“My. my, little Illumi found himself a spitfire. I always thought he’d get a submissive girl. Maybe you are more interesting than I gave you credit~.”

I sighed and realized that he was not going to give me the information that I wanted. A sad state of affairs that made my bones ache even more. Only a few hundred more rooms to look through before I’d give up for the night.

“Check under the name Gittarackur. He should be in room 275,” the clown called from down the hall. I didn’t give him the decency of a response. Instead, I went to the elevator and started my ascension to Illumi’s floor.

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

My heart pounded as the elevator climbed to the floor. After all this time looking, I still hadn’t found the correct words to say in order to make him want to stay with me. I was stuck between confessing my love and telling him off for leaving me alone. I glanced at my reflection in the warped metal hung on the sides. I looked a lot more tired than I did when I lived with him. The phantom troupe tries to stay hidden so they don’t eat as much as other people. My hair was a mess due to sleeping on the ground. My reflection matched the image I felt: empty.

I walked to his door. My heart beat faster with every single step. My legs carried me only by force rather than by acknowledgement. Soon enough, I was at the door. Gold numbers said 275.

I took a deep breath before finally knocking on the door. There was no answer for a long time. I knocked once more. This time my knocks were desperate and wanting. If Hisoka had lied, I would personally beat him even if I died in the process.

A few more moments went by before the door’s chain clanged off the runner, and the door opened. However, it wasn’t Illumi. It was a creepy man with a sunken face. Needles protruded from his face like a monster. Unlike Illumi’s naturally long hair, his hair sat up in a purple mohawk. My heart dropped in disappointment.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir,” I said. “I was told this was a friend’s room.” My legs started to take me back to the elevator in embarrassment.

The man’s head turned with a few violent clicks as if he was made of metal. “Wait,” said the metallic voice. The arm pulled out a few pins in his face as if a terrifying gesture for attack. I braced my body with the use of Nen as I knew that he could throw them at me anytime.

Instead, the man’s face transformed. The pins were keeping his appearance different. Black hair shot out from the top of his head and cascaded down to his knees. The smiling face was replaced with the blank looked expression that I knew so well.

“I-Illumi?” I stuttered. “How? What?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, Illumi walked out of the room while dropping the needles. They scattered the ground like dust. Illumi reached out and pulled me close to him. A desperate feeling of warmth washed over me. He held me tightly in his arms.

I held back hopelessly wanting the basic affections of a hug. A sob wracked my body as every emotion came out at once. During all our time together, he’d never want to hold me. We always had sides that couldn’t be crossed. The only sense of emotional vulnerability was when we had sex. This was different. This was more intimate than any of our times.

I didn’t know how long we stayed there in each other’s arms. Illumi was the first to pull away and only to drag me into his room. Instead of embracing once again, we stood at an awkward distance; waiting for someone to make the first move. “Illumi,” I whispered. Our silence was broken by that one word.

“I was afraid you’d never come back,” Illumi said. His voice still held the same montonedness; however, it was different. There was a break to his tone. His voice sounded more human and not like a creation of his father.

“I was afraid you left,” I said.

“No. I won’t. Not again. I can’t lose you again.” His words were enough to bring the same tears to my eyes. Illumi was actually using emotions. It was a twisty fantasy that I held ever since I was kidnapped so long ago. Words couldn’t express the hurt, pain, longing that held me up so many nights. I, after long last, could kiss him. Which I did gladly.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Full Masterlist

#illumi x reader #illumi #a hunter's prey #Chapter 25 #HunterXHunter #hxh

27 notes · View notes