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rempewiththetempe · 2 months

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Is This Off The Record? — Quinn Hughes⁴³

Chapter Two

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Summary: Y/n interviews Quinn and it doesn’t exactly go as planned.

Warnings: use of y/n, cursing

w/c: 3,087

a/n: I wrote this literally right after getting over Covid so it’s slightly rushed but the next chapter should be better.

“Can you answer some questions for me?” You asked, trying to show the same confidence level that the woman before you had shown, a very fake smile plastered on your face. If the fake smile didn’t give you away, then your words did. Your tone was shaky and it was easy to tell you were barely even comfortable in your own skin.

You watched as Quinn looked at you for a moment. You weren't exactly super fond of the way he was looking at you. He looked as if he was trying to appear in thought, not like he was actually trying to think over your question. You didn’t like his little power move. You wanted an answer, not whatever the fuck it was that he was currently giving you. After a moment, he finally spoke and you were grateful that the awkward silence was over.

“Why not?” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. You hated how nonchalant he appeared. It pissed you off beyond reason.

You sighed, bracing yourself for the short interview that was to come. Usually, it was the interviewees mentally preparing for these things, and you were sure Quinn was doing it too, but you had to make sure to ready yourself before questioning the mystery of a man in front of you.

“I understand you’ve never really served a leadership role, besides being an alternate captain for Team USA and an alternate captain here last year, before being named Captain of the Canucks. Could you comment on that?” You asked with a hint of shakiness in your voice. You didn’t mean to start with a loaded question, but it was the first thing that came to your mind, and you didn’t want to just sit in silence while you thought of a different question.

Quinn looked visibly offended by your question. You immediately wanted to retreat into some sort of safe space when you noticed that. You hadn’t meant to offend him, you were only trying to do your job. You hoped he understood that.

“I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure what you mean by that,” Quinn spoke up and said after a calculated silence, his face contorted in offended confusion. You guessed by his response that your question hadn’t quite been worded correctly.

“I just mean that-” You started quickly, not giving yourself any time to think about what you were saying, just wanting to clear up the situation quickly. “You know-” You stuttered out a final time before deciding to take a quick breath and collect your thoughts before continuing. Breathe.

“What I meant to say was, do you think that this leadership role will be a lot to take on, or are you more of a natural leader?” You said, your thoughts collected as much as they were going to be.

Quinn nodded with something close to understanding cast on his features. He sucked in a breath at your question and he sounded almost annoyed. You supposed you couldn’t exactly blame him for it, you’d be more than annoyed if you had to deal with shit like this often, but it still pissed you off a little.

You looked over at J.T. briefly, silently begging him to come back over and ease the tension. You knew he couldn’t. He simply glanced at you with a sympathetic smile from where he stood across the room. You returned the smile, breathing deeply before turning back to Quinn.

When you turned back to Quinn, he almost looked angry. No, angry wasn’t the word. Irritated, agitated, etc. Those words worked but those weren’t exactly what his face conveyed. It was something else.

Quinn had glanced over to J.T. as well, a pleading look in his eyes, but for slightly different reasons. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I mean, I think it’ll be an adjustment, obviously, but I love my team, you know?” He said, raising his eyebrows slightly before letting out a small chuckle. “We’re all family here and I’m ready to take that responsibility of leading our team, our family.”

Family. You thought his choice of describing the team as a family was interesting. You were sure a lot of players would describe their team that way, but it was interesting for another reason. Quinn said it like he truly meant it. Like his team was truly his family. He said it with the care that conveyed a familial bond. That was what was interesting. Family.

You nodded at his answer, offering him a small smile that wasn’t returned. Why did he have to make this more awkward? You dropped the smile from your face for the rest of that interview. You weren’t smiling for yourself anyway, you were smiling out of politeness, decency, and respect. If he wasn’t giving that to you, then you didn’t have to give that to him, you decided.

You continued the interview, thanking some higher power every once in a while that this was not a video interview, because there were more than a few awkward pauses that you were more than glad you wouldn’t need to include. You glanced over to J.T. every once in a while, seeking reassurance, because you sure as hell weren’t receiving any from Quinn. You knew it wasn’t his job to make you feel comfortable while you asked him questions, but it would’ve been nice. Instead, he didn’t even offer a simple smile back to you, only smiled every so often when talking about his teammates.

You were grateful when J.T. got done with his interview and walked back over to you and Quinn. It gave you an out, a way to simply end the interview early and leave. As soon as J.T. stepped within 6 feet of you and Quinn you wrapped up the interview with little warning, just saying that all your questions had been answered, thanking Quinn, and telling him you look forward to speaking with him again. He nodded, seemingly not giving a fuck about what you had to say.

You said thank you to J.T. as well, wishing him well. He offered to walk you out to your car, but you politely declined. You swore you could see Quinn roll his eyes at J.T.’s offer, but you couldn’t be sure.

You made your way to your car, the click-clack of your shoes on the ground an almost comforting sound. You made sure to hit the unlock button on your car key about three times as you approached your vehicle. You didn’t want to suffer the embarrassment of setting off your own car alarm. You opened your car door, quickly disappearing behind the tint of your windows. You didn’t even put the key in the ignition for a good two minutes, just resting your head on the steering wheel, thinking about everything and nothing.

You felt overwhelmed with a fear that you knew all too well as you started your car. The fear of not being good enough. The fear had haunted you for nearly your entire life. It wasn’t new to you, but you still hated it and it still controlled you to a certain extent.

You drove home in complete silence. No music. No humming. No cursing out other drivers. You kept your eyes on the road and tried to keep unwelcome thoughts out of your mind. It worked for the most part, but you knew hiding from things wasn’t the answer. You just wanted to wait until you were in the safety of your own apartment before you dealt with how you felt.

You parked your car, counting your blessings and the fact that your apartment complex had a parking lot, so you didn’t have to walk far. Of course, once you got to your apartment door, your keys wouldn’t fucking cooperate with you. And by that, you mean that you couldn’t find the right one on your keychain. Your keychain had some keys that hadn’t been in use in years. It took you forever to find the right one. You were frustrated, to say the least. That’s always how things go though. The most annoying things happen when you really are not in the mood for them.

You opened your apartment door, muttering to yourself, “I have to get those fucking labeled,” as you walked in. You groaned as you tried to shut the door behind you, but of course, it didn’t quite close all the way. You shut the door all the way, wanting nothing more than to slam it as hard as you could, but knowing, for obvious reasons, that you couldn’t.

You breathed deeply, setting your bag down on the counter, making sure to dig your phone out of it and shove it in your pocket, before moving to go sit in your bedroom. You didn’t really know if you were going to your bed or your desk, but you knew you were going to your room. You would sit on your couch if it was actually put together and not sitting disassembled in its box in the middle of your living room.

You sat down on your bed, above the covers. You stared at the wall for a few moments before pulling your phone back out of your pocket. You’d used your phone to record the interviews. No video, just audio. You knew you would have to start transcribing at some point today, but you weren’t super keen on doing that right now. You didn’t want to think about your job right now, which was something you never thought you would say. More accurately, you didn’t want to think about Quinn right now. Quinn and the odd interview and the weird looks and the stressful, well, everything. He wouldn’t leave your mind, his silent belittlement haunting you.

You looked at the time that was displayed on the screen. 2:15. Not bad. You thought about it for a moment. You could maybe take a nap. You were kind of tired. More mentally than physically though, but you would do anything to ease your mind right now.

You didn’t bother changing your clothes, they were comfortable enough. You plugged your phone in, setting it on your nightstand before getting up to turn the light off. It didn’t do much to darken the room. You hadn’t put your curtains up yet and the sun was peeking through your bedroom window quite easily. It wasn’t ideal, but you'd managed to fall asleep with worse going on.

You sighed, climbing under the covers and getting comfortable. It took a few moments of tossing and turning, but you finally got into a comfortable position. It didn’t last long though, and soon, what was supposed to be a relaxing nap, became lying awake in silence, constantly moving and trying to sleep. You didn’t sleep. It took an hour before you finally gave up and sat up in your bed.

You grabbed your phone off of your nightstand, deciding to just scroll on your phone for a bit. You opened Instagram. You didn’t post often. You mainly just used it to message and stalk people. You had a private account that not many people tried to follow often, so you were a little surprised when you saw that you had a new follow request. From j.tmiller9. It had the little blue checkmark next to it, so you figured it was legit. You accepted the follow request, not thinking too much of it besides the fact that you were happy you’d at least made a good impression on someone. You didn’t like the subtle reminder of Quinn though.

Everything about Quinn pissed you off. His nonchalance. The way he brushed you off. His stupid fucking sweaty hair after the practice. You especially hated how he’d made you feel so small.

You unplugged your phone, deciding that if you couldn’t sleep, you might as well do something productive with your time. You stood up from your bed, not bothering to turn the light on, the natural light from the window being enough. Pulled out the chair from your desk, you opened your laptop and sat down, ready to transcribe the interviews. You decided to start with Quinn’s. Might as well.

You opened the voice memo app on your phone and began the transcribing. The recording of your and Quinn’s voices coming through your phone stressed you out. Maybe you shouldn’t have started with his interview. You desperately wanted to get through this with no trouble. You took a steadying breath, whispering, “You’re okay,” to yourself as you did so.

With somewhat shaky hands, you rewinded the recording on your phone so you could begin typing, but stopped before you could hit play when you saw an Instagram notification. You clicked on it almost immediately and were taken to a message from J.T. You read it, letting out a sigh of relief as you did. It read, You did good today, Kid. Sorry about Quinn, he’s just a little stressed lately. I’ll have Petey talk to him, don’t worry. He’ll warm up to you.

Quinn was just stressed. That had to be the reason for his behavior earlier, right? You chose to believe it because you really did not feel like worrying anymore. You hit play on the recording and began transcribing.

—

The next practice was two days after the first one. You’d almost opted out of going. You still had some things to get done at home, since you’d just moved in and all, and it wasn’t like you’d have entirely new questions to ask only two days later. Maybe just the ability to ask some other people similar questions. You knew you’d be asking the same questions they’d been asked a thousand times already, and it didn’t really sit right with you. You knew that you should go though, and so you did.

You didn’t get there super early this time. You didn’t feel the need to talk to the players before the practice again. You knew that photos during the practice and maybe a short interview after the fact would suffice. You didn’t need to try and overachieve all the time. You didn’t need to set such higher standards for yourself than for others. You’d been told that a lot, but it was hard to actually put it into practice. You tried though. You tried.

You snapped a few photos during the practice. You were proud that you’d gotten some good ones. You’d also laughed when you saw Quinn cut a little too hard on his edges and almost break his ankles. He was covered in ice as he got up. You couldn’t help but chuckle when you realized you’d gotten a photo of him going down. It wouldn’t have been as funny if it was anyone else. You didn’t really know why you found it so funny when it was Quinn, but you did.

The practice went as normal and the sound of skate blades cutting into the ice and sticks hitting the ice was oddly nice to listen to. The chill of being this close to the rink was oddly comforting as well.

You didn’t have to sit with as many journalists as you did two days prior. You guessed it was because this practice wasn’t as important. Hell, you had been debating on whether or not you were going too.

After practice was over, you waited outside the locker room just as you had before. It took them longer to let you in this time, but you didn’t have a problem with it. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to be after this anyway.

When you were finally permitted to enter the locker room, you walked in and were pleased to be met with a small wave and a bright smile from J.T. You waved back and smiled back, not quite matching his smile, but smiling nonetheless. You were going to walk over to J.T. but stopped walking briefly as you looked over and saw Quinn. He was looking at you, but not exactly acknowledging your presence. It was almost as if he were looking straight through you. You wanted to say something, but you remained silent.

You settled on rolling your eyes. It was almost an instinct to do such. You didn’t even really think about it before you did it. Quinn didn’t seem fazed and that pissed you off more than him looking through you had pissed you off to begin with.

You walked over to where J.T. stood with Elias and Brock. They all had smiles on their faces. You were sure they’d seen your reaction to Quinn, but you didn’t really care all that much. J.T. was quick to “introduce” you to Elias and Brock, even though you’d already met them two days ago. Granted, you had met them pretty formally, and J.T. wasn’t introducing them formally.

“I know you have some questions to ask, but, Y/n, this is Boes,” J.T. said, pointing to Brock, “And this is Petey,” he said, patting Elias on the back lightly.

“We met briefly,” You said with a soft chuckle. It didn’t take long for J.T. to comment.

“Yeah, briefly,” He said dramatically, “This is a friendly meeting.”

Brock bowed extravagantly as if he were a knight meeting a queen and this felt so unprofessional and yet so fucking fun. Elias went the more professional route, opting to stick out his hand in a handshake. You took Elias’s hand, shaking it and Brock fauxed offense that you didn’t react to his bow.

“He gets a handshake and I’m not even acknowledged?!” Brock asked incredulously, his jaw almost on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Brock,” You said with a small laugh. “Your bow was very…impressive?” You said and it came out as more of a question than a statement.

Brock’s face dropped and he made a pout with his lips. He glared at you, keeping up with the dramatic act for a surprising amount of time. “That sounded genuine,” he deadpanned sarcastically.

“Oh, it very much was,” You replied, just as sarcastic as he had.

You could feel eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when you felt this welcomed. You were a reporter coming in to ask them a bunch of questions and you were being welcomed. It wasn’t like anything you’d experienced before. These linemates were smiling and laughing with you. This team really was like a family.

Taglist: @ru-kru

#hockey rpf #hockey romance #nhl fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #nhl hockey #nhl #hockey #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #vancouver canucks

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takenbypeter · 9 months

Note

Hi!!!! I Hope You’re doing okay and having a wonderful day/night. I was wondering if you can do a Wonka x reader fluff where basically the reader works for slugworth and is supposed to you know hate wonka but both wonka and reader have feelings for each other. And maybe it can center around the reader trying to confess their feelings to Willy but slugworth is always getting in the way of it. (So cock blocking 💀). But In the end it’s Willy who confesses to reader.

The Chocolatier and The Receptionist

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 3981

Authors notes: I am so sorry this fic is a lot longer than I expected. I usually like my fics short and to the point but with this one I just kept going and going anyways I hope you enjoy reading it cause I had fun writing it 😉

All you wanted was a simple job. One that was routine and easy, but of course no job was that simple.

Slugworth’s assistant, Miss BobBon, had gained much responsibility in the past few months and due to that, Slugworth decided to hire a receptionist and that’s where you came in.

All you did was respond to a flier but Slugworth seemed to like your quiet demeanor and he gave you the job easily.

At first being Slugworth’s receptionist was easy enough; take calls, write down messages. Slugworth was nice enough being that you got the job done. He didn’t talk to you much, other than a simple approving smile when you’ve done your job correctly.

However, with all this recent news about Wonka, an opposing chocolatier and his rising chocolate popularity, Slugworth’s irritation has begun to be…noticeable.

“Miss BonBon, when is my appointment with the chief of police?” You heard Slugworth ask his assistant as they walked right by your desk. You watched as she rifled through her binder. You, of course having organized that meeting yourself, answered him, “it’s at 3:30 Mr.Slugworth,” you chimed.

Mr. Slugworth turned around, a curt smile on his lips as he retraced his steps back to your small desk. “I’m sorry, are you my miss BonBon?”

Your eyes immediately went down to your desk realizing the sort of mood he was clearly in, “no.”

“Well then why are you answering receptionist?!” He said before turning back around and walking off leaving you to grumble to yourself as soon as he was far enough.

God, how you hated working for that man, if not for the pay then who knows where you would be by now.

After spending the last few hours pouting at work you called it a day and began your journey home.

Your abode was only a mere twenty minute walk and while some would hate the journey you didn’t really mind it at all. Sometimes it gave you just the amount of time you needed to clear your head.

Currently, it was giving you the time to grumble as you walked. As you strolled along you noticed the tiny delicate snowflakes as they began to fall. And with that beautiful sight taking place, your complaints stop as you come to a street bench. Sitting on it you look up and close your eyes letting the flakes decorate your skin.

The flakes melt at the contact against your face, causing you to become more relaxed, calm. You were so occupied by that feeling that you hadn’t realized a boy had come to sit at the other end of the bench.

“Rough day?” Asked the boy and your eyes shot open just now noticing there was someone else there. You glanced at him before deeming him harmless enough and shot him a small smile, “just the usual annoying day at work,” you reply.

“Hmm,” you watch as he looks down, his lips pressing together in a quick thought. “Well I’ve got just the thing to cheer you up!”

You observe as the young stranger quickly pulls out a jar and from the top he takes a small piece of candy and holds it out towards you. “This here is a Choco-Vanilla Spring Wafer, first an outer layer of chocolate, then vanilla, before you get to the wafer which is made with the flour of a special flower on a lone island not too far away. One bite of this and your mood will turn right around,” he exclaimed with a smile appearing on his face.

Your expression turns sour as the gears spin in your head while he sits there hand still out towards you, and after one more glance from his candy to his face it finally clicks. “It’s you!”

That exclamation made him jump a little in his seat before he looked around to see if you were talking about himself or someone else.

“You’re that chocolatier,” you clarified. His smile confirmed your statement. “Wonka. Willy Wonka is the name, chocolate is the game, except chocolate is not a game. It’s serious.”

He fails to make a change of expression on your face but only because you were too busy looking at the man. This was the first time you were seeing him and given how much he was affecting your boss, you expected him to be…older…and more sinister looking.

He gives you an odd look as you’ve just been practically staring at him. And once you don’t move he holds his hand out again motioning for you to take the chocolate but instead you jump up from your seat. “Are you kidding me? I can’t take chocolate from you! You’re the reason my job is so terrible!” You shout accusatory.

“Me? What did I do?”

“You and your chocolates are ruining my life,” you continue, ranting as you throw your hands in the air exasperated.

“How so?” He asks, voice genuinely concerned.

“It’s just…ooh you just…” you raise a hand palm open wide before curling it into an annoyed fist. I mean it wasn’t his fault exactly, all he was trying to do was sell chocolate and make a living, just as you or anybody else would. You sighed a dejected sigh and gave up, “nothing, it’s nothing.”

You stand there while he sits, both quiet, until he asks, “chocolate?” He repeats, his proposal from before still standing, but you hold your hand up rejecting the offer.

“I can’t, my boss would kill me if I had your chocolate.”

“You really care about this boss of yours,” he states and you scrunch your face in annoyance.

“I do not, for all I care he could catch a cold for a week,” you say nodding at your own sentiment while the boy called Willy Wonka grins laughing a little at your words which still seemed kind to him.

“I just need my job, that's all.”

“I really doubt your boss would mind.”

“Oh I know he would mind, in fact I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now.”

You turn around and continue your walk causing Wonka to leap up from his seat in order to catch up, “wait, you can’t talk to me?”

“My boss really, strongly, dislikes you,” you explain, eyes focused forward as the boy followed beside you.

“Fine,” he did as you did, taking steps while facing forward, “then I won’t talk to you, I’ll just talk to the air that's beside you.”

A smile breaks way on your face and he catches it, smiling as well.

“Goodbye Mr.Wonka,” you say, pulling the collar of your jacket up for two reasons; to keep you warm and to hide your grin.

He seems to catch the message as he stops in place while you continue on leaving him standing in the snow.

That night you can't help but ponder on what might’ve happened if you set your loyalties and fears aside and just took piece of the chocolate but oh well maybe in another universe.

The next morning on your way to work, you notice a spectacle taking place nearby. Curiosity taking over, you approach and as you near you recognize the voice.

Wonka.

There he was in front of a small stand with his name and a few jars of chocolates.

“—Today I will be showcasing my new product. These are what I like to call Choco-Vanilla Spring Wafers.” he repeats his pitch, glancing around at the various faces in the crowd and as he does so he spots you. His smile widens while the crinkles around his eyes deepen, but he continues on professionally. “On the outer layer, chocolate, before a simple but delicious vanilla flavor, before you get to the wafer which is made with the flour of a special flower on a small, lone island not too far away from here.” He makes his way through the crowd making sure to make eye contact with each and every person. “One bite of this and your mood will turn right side up. Don’t believe me? Try one,” he comes to a stop right in front of you as he says so, and holds out a piece of the chocolate.

Now, you know what you said the other day and you know you work for another chocolate company, but after spending the night pondering over what that chocolate would’ve tasted like, you couldn’t stop yourself from growing more curious and right now what you wanted more than anything was a piece of that candy, so you took it from his fingers unwrapped it and then gently placed it into your mouth.

Willy watched as you chewed on the chocolate and a smile spread on your face, “it’s delicious.”

He smiles a smile of relief before turning around, “you heard it here folks it’s delicious, now get one of your own to try this new delicious chocolate.”

The crowd rushes forward as they all hold out their sovereigns wanting to try it themselves and with a single wave and a smile you depart leaving Mr.Wonka alone with his booming business.

He was right though, your mood did seem to turn right around.

Once you got to work you went straight to your desk pleased that Mr.Slugworth had yet to arrive which meant peace for at least a few minutes.

Which only felt like seconds today.

“I can’t believe the nerve of that Wonka boy!” Shouted Slugworth as he entered the building followed by his assistant. Your ears perk up as he walks by and you notice he has a familiar jar in hand. “How dare he sell chocolate when the police specifically ordered him not to. Ooh he’s becoming a real pain.” You watch as he opens the jar taking a piece out, “what good is his chocolate really anyway?” He pops a piece in and you can tell he adores it just by the expression on his face before he conceals it, “It’s just wretched,” he says entering his own office.

Oh that stubborn boss of yours, you thought. Thankfully that Wonka’s chocolate seemed to be working as your boss’s words had no effect on you whatsoever.

The day went quickly and soon you were on your way home just as the other afternoon.

Now, you weren’t looking for Willy Wonka but you couldn’t say you were upset when you had crossed paths again.

“You’ve really got to get a new hobby besides following me around,” you joked, starting conversation.

“But why would I do that when our afternoon discussions are my favorite time of day.” You didn’t know what response you were expecting, but that was a little more forward than you anticipated, but you met him at the same level.

“Really? Even more than making or eating chocolate?”

“Almost. Not entirely but it’s getting there.”

You turned to look at him, the smile on your face lessening once you recognized how his expression displayed a true small appearance of contentment, which seemed to throw you off guard.

You blink twice avoiding the sudden weird tension you were beginning to feel. “So what did you want this time? I’ve already tried your chocolate.”

“Ah,” his mouth gaped as if just realizing something, “yes you’ve eaten it but what did you think about it?”

You found the question silly given that you’ve said it earlier, “I told you, it was delicious.”

He shook his head, “not good enough . What about it was delicious? What was your favorite thing about it? Was there anyway it could’ve been better?”

“You’re really asking me for my thoughts?”

“Of course. Every customer's opinions are important to me.” That was true, but more than most of the time the customers' opinions were positive. And if he were being one hundred percent honest, he seemed to already care more about your opinion than any other customers.

“Well like I said it was delicious,” you repeated as you walked on and he nodded for you to continue. “The chocolate layer was the perfect taste of milkiness that stayed in the back of the mouth, and when the vanilla hit it was a swirl of the both and it felt like they were working together until the two tastes became singular. Then, of course the wafer was the most important part adding the crunch to bring your attention back to the taste. So yes it was delicious.”

You had been lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed Willy stopped a few steps behind you, his expression gentle.

“What is it Willy?”

He shakes his head, his brown curls bouncing as he does so, “you have a way with words unlike any other.”

“Ha okay, thanks I guess,” you say laughing more to yourself at the odd compliment you’ve never received before.

“You’re welcome.” He says joining your stride again.

“You have a way with chocolates.”

“Thank you.”

You two continued in comfortable silence. The sound of the snow crunching underneath your feet. And that was the end of that.

Except it wasn’t.

Wonka and you had spent the next couple of days chatting just as you had been. He’d always meet you somewhere along your way home and you two would just talk for a bit, honestly it was actually becoming one of your favorite times of the day. You were beginning to grow curious of the man and his qualities and frankly you found yourself wanting to know more.

Which is why one day on your strolls you plainly said to him, “while I do enjoy our late afternoon chats, I do sometimes wish that we could converse more during the day?”

Willy’s eyebrows raised in what looked like excitement but someone else voice rang out before his own.

“Wonka!”

Turning around your shoulders cave forward as you notice Slugworth walking in your direction. He came to a stop in front of you and gave you a look before turning to Willy, “may I steal you away from my, oh so loyal employee, to share a word with you?”

Willy, brain seeming to connect the dots glances between you and Slugworth as you give him a knowing smile.

You chime in seeking for an exit from whatever was about to take place, “of course. We were done anyway. Goodbye Mr.Wonka,” you said, turning around giving the two their time.

As you finish your walk home you realize how wrong it all must’ve looked, you spending time alone with Wonka of course it would be inappropriate. But still even with those thoughts, you go to bed unable to keep the young chocolatier out of your head. You both hated and yet felt, for the way he was making you feel.

The next morning when you arrive at work Mr.Slugworth is already there, his buttock planted on your desk and he seemed to be in a weirdly strange mood.

“Oh hello, lovely receptionist…” you give him an odd look before filling in the blank for him by giving him your name, “ah right! Of course. Don’t you look lovely today.”

“Thank you?” You say questionably while setting your coat behind your chair.

“Of course, of course…ahem,” he cleared his throat and you expected what was to come next, “I was just curious about this Wonka fellow,” there it was. “What were you two um…chatting about?”

“Hm, nothing really, just chocolate.”

“Chocolate? Hm, his or ours?”

“Just in general,” you say, trying to be vague.

“Ah, in general of course,” he says, finally removing himself from your space while you take your seat.

He walks around behind you to push your chair in for you and while he does so he leans down to your level.

“Just remember where your loyalties lie in this business,” he says, his voice low, before returning to his office leaving you to your work.

That afternoon Willy waits outside across from your office doors and once spotting you he bounds over. “Willy?” You ask, confused that he’s met you so early in your walk.

“I was going to meet you further on but I had recalled that we hadn’t yet finished our discussion from yesterday.”

Your eyebrows raise, “right, our discussion yesterday,” your eyes peer up and Willy follows your gaze as you make contact with Slugworth who’s shamelessly watching the scene from his glass windows.

“Um yesterday, right,” you took your attention off Slugworth and back to Willy. “…yesterday I actually was going to tell you, it would be inappropriate to continue spending time with you…goodbye Mr.Wonka.”

You give one last look upwards and notice Slugworth smirking beyond that glass, oh how you would love to punch that smirk right off. But instead you walk away quickly.

Willy stands stunned before he too looks up glaring at Slugworth before chasing after you.

“So that's it? We can’t talk anymore because you work for Slugworth? Is that what you want?”

Now being a good enough distance away from your office you turn around to talk to him face to face, “no it’s not.”

“Come work for me,” his chocolate eyes stare deeply into yours as he seems to beg for you to take his sudden offer with just a single look.

“Are you crazy? I mean I wish I could but do you have a factory? Can you promise a stable income? What even is the job?”

With each question you take note of how he looks down, refusing to answer because he essentially can’t.

You intake a deep breath, your chest rising as you do, “I wish I could but I need a steady job. I’m sorry.”

You turn back around as you were but he speaks again, persistent in continuing conversation, “when I make it big and official, you have a guaranteed spot in my factory, whichever position. What do you want to be; a taste tester, chocolate maker, or you could remain receptionist.”

“Willy…” it sounded nice working alongside him but who knows when that would be, “It’s a nice dream Willy, but that’s all it is…a dream.”

You both continue on his step now further behind yours as he seems to recall something, “someone special once told me that every good thing in this world started with a dream. She told me it was important to hold onto mine, so I am.”

“She?” You asked, curiosity increased.

“My mother.”

“Well your mother sounds like a wise woman.”

“She was,” he says he doesn’t say more but he doesn’t need to, you can tell by his expression that she was no longer with the living.

“…I’m sorry.”

He gives a saddened smile, “it’s alright, I’ll see her again.”

You gave an encouraging smile, unsure what he meant by that before moving forward with your conversation, “your mother sounded like a wise woman, and I admire her positivity…But sometimes a dream remains just that. A dream and for now that's all it is…a dream.” You say matter of factly, before uttering a final, “goodbye, Willy Wonka.”

Two days go by and you hear nothing from the young chocolatier. And with no news of Wonka you’ve noticed the change of attitude in Slugworth as he seemed to be oddly chipper than usual, but of course you chose to ignore the strange feeling you got from that man, he always kept secrets from you so why care about it now, you were just the receptionist.

That afternoon as you return from work just about to unlock your front door your attention gets grabbed by a young girl who strolled next to you. Upon taking a glance you realized, “I know you…?” You said recognizing her features to be one of Wonka’s helpers that you’ve seen in the crowds before.

“Noodle,” she said and you repeated it, (a trick you’ve learned to memorize names).

“Willy asked me to escort you to the old fountain only a few roads down. If you’ll agree of course?”

You contemplated your options; entering your place and spending a cozy night in, or accepting the man’s invitation and joining him in a who knows what adventure. At one last gnaw on your lip you agree to follow the girl.

Traveling slightly behind her, she leads the way, “how do you know Wonka?” You asked curiously.

“Willy?” The young girl asks, “he’s a close friend, we’ve sort of become close to being in the same predicament,” she explains.

Your mouth opens into a small ah as you nod showing you understand, but truly you didn’t, “what sort of predicament?” You asked, but before you could get your answer you had arrived. She guided you and motioned for you to go towards the fountain and you did.

It was fairly secluded especially considering the fact being that it wasn’t very much to look at, it was an old run down fountain and there were much simpler ways to get to town.

The girl walks away and you wait, finding this all to be unusual. As you wait you notice the fountain light up from underneath before it goes into a pattern of changing colors. Flowers aligned along the bottom of the fountain begin to bloom, one by one a variety of colors. You don’t know how he did it but it was sight to see, you honestly weren’t even exactly sure what was going on.

You followed the trail flowers with your eyes as they led all the way around and as it came to an end, that's when you noticed he was standing right beside you.

“Willy?!” You asked shocked and concerned as he stood there with his hand palm up as a small white box with a ribbon bow lay in it.

“I want you to try this.”

“All this for me to try chocolate?”

“He opens the box revealing a round chocolate. This is my new product called the Dreamscape. One of these and you’ll feel light and content. It’s a good dream wrapped into a piece of chocolate.”

You don’t know what to say, you admire his uniqueness, his charm, and his creativity in this whole plan and it honestly left you quite speechless.

“You said all of this is a dream. Well if being here with you is a dream, then I don’t want to wake up.” He holds the bite box out further to you and it takes all of your facial muscles not to react to his cheesy yet sweet phrases, “will you dream with me?”

Your brain tried to intercept and remind you of your work and what would become, but your heart was in play too as they both battled for the main position.

Willy stares, on edge, as he tries to gauge your reaction which was taking more time than he expected.

Until finally, eventually, you breathe out,“you really know how to win someone's heart.” With that sentence you pick up the piece of candy and take a bite out of it. “But I’m still working for Slugworth, so don’t make a big deal out of this.”

He raised his hands declaring a truce.

But with that single piece of candy you found yourself becoming happier with each second that was passing as you stood there, and so did Willy.

You didn't know what the future would hold but you were certain that if anyone could make their dreams come true it was him. And sure enough, days soon to follow after, Wonka and his team devised a plan to beat the Chocolate Cartel. (You may have given Willy some assistance in telling him where Slugworth would be located for the day).

Because of the disappearance of the Chocolate Cartel, Willy Wonka was free to finally begin his dream of making chocolate in his very own chocolate factory. Except, this turn out was slightly different from his original dream. This dream was sweeter, because it had you in it.

#willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #willy wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfiction #willy wonka fanfic #wonka fanfic

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melzula · 7 months

Text

North and South

part one

pairing: zuko x princess!reader

notes: i’m so excited to finally be at the last comic storyline of the series. i do admit there are a lot of noticeable changes from the comic, but i still hope you guys enjoy. also i did make a series playlist if you guys want to give it a listen, it’s included on the masterlist!

summary: while doing her best to rebuild the tribe, the Chief struggles to determine what is really best for her people. however, she hopes that the return of her friends will allow her to see things in a clearer view

~ part of the fire lilies series ~

After a long day of teaching, you find yourself locked away in your office looking over proposals for the Reconstruction Project. Your head aches from the hours you’ve spent assessing paperwork and writing notes of your own about Hakoda’s new proposal. Things seem to be going well for the most part, your tribe is growing stronger with every passing day, but there’s still much to be done.

It’s been three months since you last visited the Fire Nation and helped Zuko find the missing children, and since returning home all of your attention has been focused on the needs of your people. You’re doing all you can to be the leader your father would want you to be and your tribe needs you to be, but the reconstruction process has made this a much more difficult task.

A gentle knock on your office door breaks you from your thoughts and brings you back to the present, refocusing your attention on the papers sprawled out before you. “Come in.”

“Chief y/n,” Hakoda greets you cordially before gently shutting the door behind him. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, of course not, I was just reviewing the proposal you and Malina submitted.”

“And?” He asks with a hopeful glint in his eye. You simply sigh, carefully rubbing your temple in thought before grabbing the papers from your desk and handing them back to him.

“I don’t think I can approve the construction of these plans,” you admit guiltily. “I know there’s an oil deposit here that could be beneficial to the growth of our tribe if used correctly, but can you assure me that will be the case once it’s built? Can you assure me it won’t have any negative impact on our wildlife or our people or our way of life? Can you assure me that it won’t cause tension between us and our sister tribe?”

“I… I can’t promise you any of that,” Hakoda admits with a sigh. “But isn’t taking chances part of making change? This oil could help build machines and make our way of life easier.”

“I’ve heard how some of the Notherners speak of us. I gave Maliq an earful the last time I caught him talking down to my men, and I don’t believe his intentions with this project consider the South’s best interests. Our people don’t deserve just fancy machinery and modern technology, they deserve dignity and respect. At this moment in time I’m not comfortable moving forward with the oil rigs. My answer is no.”

“I understand,” your advisor relents with a disappointed sigh. “I’ll inform Malina and Maliq of your response, and I’ll work hard to make sure we can show you that this project will be worthwhile.”

“Thank you, Hakoda. Now, onto less serious matters,” you note with a faint smile. “Based on the letter I received Katara and Sokka should be arriving tomorrow, and in two days I’ll be hosting a celebration in honor of their return. I can count on you to be there?”

“Of course, but… you won’t mention anything of Malina will you?” He asks hesitantly. “I should be the one to tell them.”

“I don’t like keeping secrets from friends, but I also know that this is a family matter, so you have my word,” you assure him. He thanks you and bids you goodnight before departing from your office, and once again you are all alone.

“What am I going to do?” You sigh, eyes straining as you try looking over the plans again. Change has been necessary to keep your tribe growing and your people strong, but you worry that perhaps there’s been too much change. The only thing that’s really stayed the same is the palace, but even now it feels out of place amongst all the modern buildings and structures. The Southern Water Tribe feels too Northern, and you worry your people are beginning to lose their identity.

Nothing makes sense anymore, but you hope that with the arrival of your friends will come a clearer view on the future ahead.

You can only hope for the best.

~~~

The South is bustling with activity as you usher in your students for the day’s lesson. Your class is reasonably small, made up of only about ten attendees and only two of them being originally from the South. Those two were the most resistant to your lessons, but you did your best to be as understanding of their hesitancy as possible. You too understood the trauma and fear that came with being forced to hide your bending once the war broke out in the South, and some people were still getting used to the fact that there was no longer any danger to run from.

“Good morning my little koala otters,” you greet cheerfully. “I hope you all are well rested and ready for today’s lesson.”

“Excuse me,” a voice calls, bringing your attention to the doorway, “do you have room for another student?”

You nearly collapse from the excitement that fills you at the sight of your two friends standing in the doorway with Master Pakku in tow ready to take over classes for you. You almost trip over your own feet as you rush towards the siblings and throw your arms around them in the tightest hug imaginable.

“Sokka, Katara! I’m so happy to see you guys,” you exclaim with a tearful smile before pulling away. “I can’t believe you’re back already.”

“It’s great to see you again, y/n,” Katara agrees, a content look on her face, “and it’s good to be home, even though it does look… different.”

“I know, it is a bit much,” you admit with an uncomfortable laugh, “but the people seem to like it, and your father thinks a modern look is just what our tribe needs.“

“Is our dad a great advisor or what?” Sokka asks Katara, a prideful smile on his face.

“He certainly has been a great help. Thanks to him and the construction crew from the North I’ve been able to focus on my bending school and more of the social affairs around the South. Having more time to connect with my people helps me be the best Chief I can and make sure I’m making the right choices for them.”

“Speaking of the construction crew,” Katara interrupts with a sour look on her face. “I caught them trying to attack little kids who were playing near a construction site.”

“It was just a misunderstanding, Katara,” Sokka reasons with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Besides, you kicked their butts anyway!”

“That’s terrible,” you express with a worried frown. “I’ll have to have a word with Malina about her crew; they won’t be welcomed here any longer if they keep this sort of behavior up. I won’t have outsiders tormenting my people.”

“This Malina… do you trust her?”

“Why do you ask?” You say, trying to feign obliviousness. You certainly don’t want to get in the middle of anything, but it’s hard having to lie to someone who’s been there for you through thick and thin.

“Well, we’re supposed to have dinner tonight with my dad, and her and her brother Maliq will be joining us. But I’m not really sure if I trust her,” Katara admits sullenly. “Something doesn’t feel right about them.”

“You just have to give her a chance. Anyone who can come up with cool designs like that can’t be all that bad,” her brother argues much to her annoyance.

“You only like her because she’s feeding you,” she grumbles indignantly.

“Look, I think you should speak to your father. He spends more time with her than I do, and he’ll be able to explain things much better than I probably could. The only thing I can tell you both is to keep your schedules open because tomorrow night I’ll be hosting a celebration in your honor!”

“What? You don’t have to do that!” Katara exclaims in surprise.

“Of course I do. You’re Southern heroes, you saved the world by helping the Avatar and you saved our tribe when you helped me defeat Koa,” you explain adamantly. “We’re having the party, and as Chief I demand your presence.”

“You’ve let the power go to your head, haven’t you?” Sokka accuses jokingly. “Don’t worry, y/n, we’ll be there.”

“Good,” you smile, pleased at getting your way. “We’re all going to have a wonderful time and everything is going to work itself out. These things just take time.”

“I guess you’re right,” Katara murmurs, but you can still detect the uncertainty in her features.

“Listen, why don’t you both come by tomorrow after my lessons are over? I can give you a grand tour of the new and improved Southern Water Tribe!” You suggest eagerly. “Your opinions matter too, and I want as much input as possible about how to improve our home for everyone.”

“That sounds nice,” she admits with a meek smile. “Maybe that’s what we need, a chance to settle into life back home.”

“Perfect! I’m excited to show you our procgress!”

While Katara appreciates your enthusiasm, she still doesn’t feel right about Malina or the changes made in the South. It doesn’t really feel like home anymore; it’s so different from how life once was. For your sake she’ll try to give it a chance, but as of now it seems it’ll take a lot more than her father’s reassurance to convince her that these changes are for the best.

But she hopes that maybe you’re right, maybe these things just take time, and maybe once time has passed it’ll feel like normal again.

She can only hope.

~~~

“After we finished rebuilding the outer tribes, we began our work on the royal plaza. It’s now become the main center for commerce, diplomacy, and unity. The local businesses that have opened here have been massively successful, and the square is constantly bustling with activity.”

Katara feels overwhelmed by the whirlwind of information you throw at her as you guide her and Sokka through the brand new royal village. You’re right about it always being busy- people rush by your trio to start their work for the day or bargain for the latest deals at the merchant stands. They look happy, content, and out of place. The people don’t match the towering buildings around them, and they surely don’t look like the same people she’d left behind a few years ago.

“And everyone is happy with the changes?” She asks curiously.

“Well, some were resistant to the change, so I tried to be as accommodating as possible. Those who didn’t want new homes were allowed to keep their original huts, and I didn’t force the outer tribes to merge with the royal village. I gave them the autonomy to govern their own affairs so long as it doesn’t interfere with the overall success of the tribe, but they’re still required to report to me at least once a month about their progress and request aid if needed.”

“So it’s kind of like the Earth Kingdom in a way?” Sokka points out indeterminately. “You‘ve established cities while still keeping the palace as the center point of the tribe.”

“I guess that’s true,” you note thoughtfully at his observation. “Father said I’d gain the knowledge needed to lead by traveling the world, so I’m using the knowledge I’ve gained for the benefit of my people.”

“I hate to burst your burble, Princess, but I don’t think everything’s as perfect as you say it is,” the boy says with a frown. Faltering, you slow yourself to a stop and turn to face the siblings. Their features are riddled with apprehension, and you’re not sure what to make of it.

“What do you mean, Sokka? Is there something you don’t like about the changes? Is there something I should be doing better?” You ask, fretful over the idea of not living up to the expectations placed upon you as leader.

“No, no, I think you’re doing a great job, honest. It’s just… well, some people aren’t happy about the Northerners being here.”

“Last night Malina was attacked at dinner, and we were forced to chase after these kids that stole Maliq’s briefcase,” Katara begins to explain, lowering her voice to ensure no one can overhear your conversation. “We followed them to the abandoned Fire Nation shipwreck and discovered a series of tunnels underneath.”

“There was an entire group of Southerners down there led by Gilak, a warrior who fought alongside our fathers against the Fire Nation,” Sokka continues, and you can only hang on to every word. You feel ashamed to know that this has been going on without your knowledge, and it’s almost as if you’ve failed in a sense. You’re Chief, it’s your job to know of things like this, and yet you’re having to find out about it through your friends. “They’re not happy about our sister tribe’s presence here in the South.”

“I understand some of the Northerners can be a bit blunt and unpleasant at times, but I didn’t think it was this bad,” you admit with a disappointed frown. “What did they tell you?”

“He said he understood that at first it was necessary for you to bring in people from the North to help restore bending to our tribe because it would make us stronger,” Sokka explains as he recalls the awkward encounter. “But now he thinks my dad is going overboard with all the people he’s brought in to help us rebuild.”

“He says we’re becoming a cheap imitation of the North,” Katara murmurs thoughtfully, and by the look on her face it seems as if she agrees with the sentiment.

“What else did Galik say?”

“They want to eradicate the presence of foreigners and are prepared to go to war to do so,” Sokka says sullenly, not exactly enjoying having to break this news to you. “He says we have to get rid of the Northerners before they take advantage of you.”

“Of me?” You retort in bewilderment. You definitely didn’t expect that to come out Sokka’s mouth. Katara then places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Galik and his followers believe that your relationship with Zuko- an outsider- has made you too trusting of foreigners. He thinks the Northerners are taking advantage of this trust to worm their way into the affairs of the South.”

“He compared our father to Koa,” Sokka spits irately, still fuming at the memory. “He thinks he’s abusing his position as advisor to go behind your back and make all these changes.”

“That’s not true at all!” You exclaim in disbelief. “Spirits, this has all gotten so out of hand. What am I to do?”

“Hey, don’t worry, we’re going to figure it out. Our dad is already investigating the matter as we speak,” your friend assures you, doing his best to alleviate your worry. “You’re doing great, Chief.”

You give him a meek smile at his encouragement, but his words do little to quell your anxieties. The last thing you want is a civil war to break out between your tribes, but at this point it’s starting to feel inevitable. You just hope Hakoda can put a stop to this before it gets too out of hand.

“Y/n, could I speak to you alone?” Katara asks suddenly much to the surprise of her brother.

“Of course. We’ll have to finish our tour another time, Sokka,” you tell the water tribe boy with an apologetic smile. Turning to his sister, you gesture for her to follow. “There’s something I want to show you.”

You weave your way through the village and back towards the palace square. The towering buildings slowly fade away the further you go, and the air here is more peaceful and serene with the absence of all the merchants and people. After a while you finally reach your stop, allowing Katara a moment to take in the building before her.

“What is this place?” She asks in awe, admiring the pristine marble work of the pillars lining the structure.

“Let’s go inside,” you suggest with a careful smile before ushering her toward. Immediately she’s greeted with a vast expanse of artifacts, artwork, literature, and more. Each section has its own label and scroll of information detailing the importance of the different exhibits, and Katara figures it would probably take hours to look through everything.

“This is incredible. Did you do all of this?”

“This was one of the first buildings I commissioned as Chief,” you recount with a proud smile. “The South lost so much because of the war, and I didn’t want anyone to forget all that we’d been through and all we’d done to survive. This museum holds every piece of history of the Southern Water Tribe, and I hope it can be used to educate others about our strength and resilience.”

“I want the South to grow, Katara. I want us to connect with others, to live in harmony with the other Nations. I want people from all over the world to visit the South and learn about our culture. Is it really so naive of me to have such hope?”

“No, I guess not,” Katara admits guiltily. “Y/n, the reason I wanted to speak to you alone was because I- well, because Malina and my father are together, and I’m not sure how to feel. She’s nothing like my mother, and I don’t think she’s good enough for my dad.”

“I know what it’s like to lose a parent,” you note faintly, absently brushing your fingers against your tiger shark tooth necklace. “I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if my mother began to see someone else. But if it were to happen, I’d know that I’d just have to trust my mother’s judgement. Just like you have to trust your father’s.”

“It’s easier said than done,” Katara says with a huff. You merely give her a comforting smile and pull her figure into a hug.

“Just give it a chance. She doesn’t have to replace your mother, she never will, but it doesn’t hurt to get to know her. I think tonight’s festival would be the perfect opportunity, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re right,” she says with sigh, appreciating your comfort and wisdom. She’s glad to have you, and she knows you feel the same.

You part from your hug and give her a reassuring smile. “I have to head back to the palace now for a meeting with your father and the Northern siblings, but please feel free to stay in here as long as you’d like.”

She watches you depart from the room before turning her attention to the portrait before her. The image depicts a family from before the war, the mother and daughter brushing the animal pelts while the father and son cook freshly caught fish over the fire. They look happy, and Katara begins to feel her chest ache.

~~~

It’s a peaceful day in the Fire Nation as Zuko sits in the gardens and enjoys a cup of tea with his Uncle. It’s certainly been a stressful past few years, so he’s learned to enjoy calm and quiet moments like these where he can finally stop to catch his breath.

A servant approaches the table and bows in respect before offering the Fire Lord a scroll. “This just arrived from the South, sir.”

“Thank you,” he says, taking the scroll before dismissing the servant.

“A letter from the Princess?” Iroh asks with a curious smile, and based on the longing look that plays upon Zuko’s features as he reads the letter, the general confirms his guess to be correct.

“My love, I hope things in the Fire Nation are running smoothly. As you know, Hakoda has invited you for a conference that is to occur in just a few days. However, I’m hosting a celebration tomorrow for Katara and Sokka’s return home, and I would love for you to arrive early and attend! I hope to see you soon, Zuko. Yours truly, y/n.”

Smiling faintly, Zuko tucks the scroll away before looking to his Uncle. “Would you be able to look after things for a few extra days while I’m gone? It appears I’ll be taking my leave to the South earlier than expected.”

“Of course, nephew,” Iroh smiles cordially. “I would like nothing more than to allow you the chance to relax and enjoy some time with your beloved. Please do give the Princess my best.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” the Fire Lord says before excusing himself from the table and heading inside to prepare for his departure.

After months of waiting, Zuko is finally going to be reunited with the one he loves most.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch @docackerman @rinalsword

#fire lilies #north and south #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #katara #sokka #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

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random-writing-panda · 1 year

Text

||•~ Growing pains ~•||

(Older)Damian Wayne x Reader

*My GIF

I’m finally getting better at making fic’s longer. As always I hope you guys enjoy it and that my inability to spell doesn’t reflect in my writing to much🙃

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: little bit angsty

====================================

Damian starts to develop feelings towards his best friend, he doesn't understand what these feelings mean so who better to go to but his big brother Dick?

====================================

Damian hated this class. Out of all the classes he had to waste his day attending, this one was the worst because the one person who made school bearable was on the other side of the room. So, he was stuck sitting next to morons who only wanted to talk to him because he was Damian Wayne.

He was zoned out not paying any attention to the class, he didn’t need to, he knew more about the subject then the teacher did and that left him to doing the one thing that had seemed to take over his life recently, drawing you. He sat there sketching lines onto his book glancing up to look over to you as you sat with your face resting in your hand looking half asleep. Damian smiled to himself as he looked back down to the sketch. No matter how many times he drew you he could never make it perfect, never fully capture the beauty you hold.

It had been almost two months of Damian drawing you. You had found one of his sketch books and were so shocked at how talented he was, the detail was incredible, so obviously as his best friend you begged him to draw you.

∞∞

“No.” he sighed

“C’monnnn Dami please! Just one sketch. It’s just one please!” you grab his arm and he squirms a little.

“Oh sorry... I forgot the touching thing. But seriously please? Just draw me once.” you pull you hand away and give him puppy dog eyes. You were the one person he listened to, not a lot, but more than anyone else.

“Fine. One okay?” he looks over to you and smiles as you start clapping and smiling.

“Thank you Dami!”

∞∞

He had finished the sketch and just looked at it just wasn’t good enough, it was missing something and he couldn’t make it look perfect but you had seen him stop so you practically ran over to him and sat next to him and ran your fingers over the edge of the paper and you had smiled so much, you seemed so happy.

As happy as you were with the picture Damian just couldn’t let go of the fact something was missing, so he tried again, using the picture of the two of you that he kept in his room as a reference.

It drove him crazy, whenever he saw you there was something so beautiful that he just couldn’t capture in his drawings and eventually after every day you spent together, he would sit down and draw it.

Over the two months he had filled up the entire book with memories and whenever he looked through his sketchbook he was filled with happiness and something completely unexplainable.

“Damian since you seem to be paying attention what is the answer to the question?” the teacher asked trying to embarrass him. It backfired quickly when Damian answered correctly without even looking up from his book. The class tried to stifle their laughter as the teacher turned red and tried to continue with the class.

Damian shot his eyes up to look at you again and he heard your laugh after what had occurred and he just smiled back at you. He didn’t know what was happening to him.

How he felt about you confused him which he hated Damian absolutely hated not know what was happening especially when his own feelings are what were confusing him. He needed to know what was happening and he couldn’t work it out on his own... he needed help...

∞∞

He was never going to let Damian live this down. Damien actually asking for someone else's help.

“I swear Grayson. You will never utter a word of this conversation to anyone is that understood?” Damian scowls at Dick as they sit across from each other.

“Sure, okay fine what do you need help with Damian?” Dick slouches over resting his elbows on his knees.

“Whenever I’m with Y/n... I feel weird.” Damian says trying to piece together the words.

“Weird? What do you mean weird?”

“If I knew what I meant I would have said that wouldn't I Grayson? Uh forget it.” Damian goes to stand up.

“No! Hey Damian, I'm sorry come on I want to help.” Dick says standing and gently puts his hand on Damian’s shoulder, “Just talk to me try to explain it?”

“Fine... when I’m with her I...I just...I feel like I’m happier... I feel like a better person and I feel...okay I mean actually okay.” Damian sat back down and but his head in his hands. “And... there is just something unexplainable and...I don’t understand... my entire life i have know exactly how to feel and how to respond... how to turn off my feelings...but I can’t and I don’t know how to deal with it... i don’t even know what it is!”

“Heh... sounds like you're in love.” Dick lets out a small almost sad chuckle. “First love...wow”

“Love?-”

“Yeah love it is what happens when people-”

“I know what love is Grayson!” Damian replies hastily and rolls his eyes, “I just didn’t know it felt like... this...”

“It’s love. It feels like love. You just know!” Dick says almost like he was confused

“No Grayson. I don’t know that’s why I came to you.” Damian knew people didn’t understand but at this point they didn’t even try to understand that he couldn't process emotion like other people, they just brush it off.

“I’m trying to be supportive but how do you not know what love is like? Any kind of love?”

“Well Dick some of us didn’t grow up perfectly.”

“Perfectly?! Perfectly really?? No one in this house grew up perfectly! Except maybe Alfred, but that’s beside the point!”

“Yeah well you could be less of a dick, Dick.” Damien stood up and walked away without a second thought.

∞∞

“I will never understand the need for a bed the size of a normal room.” You laugh as you fall back onto Damian’s bed and lay there looking up at his ceiling.

“I don’t get it either but its comfortable.” Damian raises his head and puts his pencil on his desk.

“I agree maximum comfort levels. I should sleep over more.” you smile and watching you on his bed his face heats up and you move around on the bed and walk over to him.

You sit up on his desk and look down at Damian’s sketch book.

“Is that me?” you move to grab the book, but Damian gets to it first and slams it shut.

“Nope.” his eyes meet yours and he smiles, “Not you at all.”

“Hm I don’t think so, I'm pretttyy sure that was me.”

He looks down and he tried to stay calm. Did you hate him? Did you think he was creep? Were you going to stop hanging out with him?

“Let me see it!” you laugh and try to grab the book.

“No!”

“Please?”

“...Fine...”

He hands the book over to you and his hand brushed yours and you smiled.

You open the book to the first page and see a beautiful sketch of your day out at the beach with him, you flip over the pages one by one and are met with an entire book full of drawings of you.

“Damian...”

That was it you thought he was a creep.

“These are so amazing...” you reach the end of the book and find a page with your sketch in a box in the middle of the page.

“Sorry...this is weird...” He looks at the wall and straightens up in his seat.

You reach over and place your hand on his cheek, you run your finger over the side of his face.

“What are you talking about? They are amazing Damian what are you embarrassed about?”

“You don’t think I'm creepy for having a sketch book full of pictures of you?” Damian laughs and leans into your hand.

“No... it's so sweet.” you look down trying to force words pass the lump in your throat. “It’s nice to have the guy you like take that much interest in you...” you mumble to quietly.

“You like me?”

“Yeah...maybe...a little bit...”

“Good.” Damian stands up and tugs you off the desk and hugs you. “Because... I think I like you too.”

“Damian?”

He pulls back.

“Yeah...?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He smiles and you lean into him and press your lips against his and you slowly close your eyes,grasping your waist tightly he pulls you closer to him. The moment seems to last for an eternity and once you pull away you rest you head on his chest.

“Just one sketch huh...?” you look up and Damien rolls his eyes at chuckles.

“Just one sketch.”

================

Tag list:

#older damian wayne x reader #older damian wayne #batfam #damian wayne #robin damian #robin x reader #robin x y/n #robin x you #batman #batfam imagine #batfam fic #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n

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todofics · 1 month

Text

Off The Market | 2/6 | Todoroki Shoto x Reader

♡ Summary: The Todoroki name had always borne a heavyweight amongst even society’s finest. When the family’s youngest son, and heir to the title, is forced into the marriage market, it’s no surprise that he quickly becomes the season’s most eligible bachelor—hoping to avoid marriage for at least one more season, who better than to circumvent the ton other than his long-time friend, you?

♡ Content: regency au, fake-dating trope, aged-up characters, age gap (4 years), mutual pining, fem reader, fem pronouns, mature content in future chapters

♡ Author notes: Would anyone be interested in a tag list? I’ve never written on Tumblr before, so everything is new to me! Please let me know if you are, and I can start one for the next chapter :)

♡ 2.4k words/est. 15k words (chapter 2/6)ˋ°•*⁀➷ Main Masterlist ♡ MHA Masterlist ♡ Story Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next

Your breath caught in your throat as Shoto’s unexpected proposal hung in the air, your ears tauntingly ringing from the stress of the uncertainty. Had you heard him correctly?

“(Y/n)?” the dual-colored man asked, a hauntingly beautiful frown painted across his face as he waited for your answer. God, he was so unfair.

“Allow you to court me?” you parroted, face warm again despite the cool summer breeze. Your eyes glanced down to where his strong hands held your own, unable to make eye contact with him; you feared you’d quickly give into his qualms if you did. His handsome looks could drive just about anyone to obey.

Shoto coughed, clearing his throat as he steeled his resolve. “Yes, allow me to court you,” he repeated, shutting down any doubts you had about mishearing the man.

“My lord, and I ask this with the utmost respect, have you lost your mind?!” you managed to choke out, tone hushed as you were afraid that anyone inside could hear the ridiculous conversation. He continued to hold your hands, unwilling to let go. He knew that if he did, you’d simply run away from the conversation - a fate the future Duke would not allow.

“I have given it long thought,” Shoto informed you, his tone steady and calm now. He had already made up his mind, his intentions resolute. “Allow me to court you - at least for the season.” Although the sentence was phrased as a question, the burning look in his eyes told you it was not. You looked away once again, mind reeling with apprehension.

“My lord, I’m afraid you confuse me - for the season?” you ask, your heart pounding rapidly. It was as if the man didn’t know of the effects he had on women - yourself included. The man nodded, his eyes never leaving your face as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“Yes, only for the season,” the man reassured as if his plan was apparent. Shoto was never the best at explaining his inner musings, always leaving you guessing. “For the season, I will act as your intended - and you as mine. You know I do not wish to marry,” he explained as your expression shifted, your furrowed brows keying him into the workings of your own mind.

You drew in a shaky breath, taking a moment to comprehend his words' meaning. “I know you have no prospects,” he pointed out bluntly - oh, what a way with words he had. You shot him a look but didn’t take the words to heart. Shoto had never been one to mince words. His honesty, while sometimes cutting, was one of the things you admired most about the man.

“It’ll draw the attention of suitors for you and keep mine away.” It seemed he had given the arrangement thought; it made perfect sense. You had never dreamed of being a spinster, and Shoto knew that despite the lack of conversation surrounding your prospects. In your first season out, you had bashfully given your earnest attention to all potential suitors, dreaming of a future filled with private affections and little feet toddling around. Even if those men had all been chased away from intimidation surrounding your companionship with the half-and-half man, it was clear you weren’t uninterested in the thought of marriage.

“I- Shoto,” you cut yourself off, still not used to formally addressing the man. “My lord, it’s just that…”

This time, the man interrupted your speech. He knew of your tendencies to overthink things - especially ones that were quite simple. “You will break off the engagement at the end of the season - it’ll prevent scandal toward you.” Your expression softened as the thumping of your heart slowed. His plan seemed to offer a solution to all the potential problems. If you were the one to break off the engagement, it’d leave the question of what was possibly wrong with him rather than you. It’d give you both exactly what you wanted.

Still, the idea of the plan worried you, an unsettling feeling sinking into your stomach. As your lips parted to give the man an answer, the balcony door swung open.

“Shoto, mama is looking for you!” Your eyes shot over to the voice, then back to your still-connected hands. Unchaperoned and in close contact - two things that would surely lead to scandal.

A gasp left the woman’s lips, a gloved hand moving up to cover her dropped jaw. Shoto finally released your hands, moving back a respectable distance as he cleared his throat and adjusted his cravat before turning to face the owner of the voice. “Fuyumi, I’ll be over in just a minute,” he told her, the woman’s shocked expression transitioning into delight. Being close to Shoto often led to you interacting with the girl, and your time spent together, while usually short, was pleasant. She had always enjoyed your company. On the other hand, you were left wide-eyed at being caught in such a compromising position, the panic beginning to set in.

Shoto turned his attention back to you, your expression still not composed. A coy smile played on Fuyumi’s face as if she knew something you didn’t. You hoped she’d spare you the decency to leave this scandal unspoken. “We will continue this conversation tomorrow,” Shoto told you before following his sister, leaving you alone under the twinkling starlight. It seemed the world had made its decision for you.

The following day, you were rudely awakened by a loud knocking on your chambers. “My lady, my lady!” your maid chirped as she rapped on your doors, voice full of panic. You groaned, rolling over in bed, your eyes still heavy with sleep. What could drive your maid to wake you up with such alarm? The sun beamed through the curtains, its warmth pleasant against your bare skin. Sleep was simply calling your name. “My lady, you must rise! You have a caller waiting!”

Your eyes shot wide open, suddenly recalling your conversation with Shoto the night before. You didn’t think he’d really show up at your house! You threw off your fluffy blankets in a flurry, quickly throwing on a chemise. Hearing the commotion of your rise, your maid promptly let herself in, helping you lace your corset as you grabbed a simple pale muslin gown. You felt no need to impress the man despite his newly declared intentions.

Arranging your hair in a delicate bun, you took one last look in the mirror, deciding it’d have to do for now. “My lady, is that outfit really alright?” your maid asked, eyeing you up and down - it had been so long since you had last received a caller (especially one of Shoto’s caliber). Your staff, aware of your long history with the Todoroki son, had long been rooting for your official pairing. You shot her a soft smile, appreciative of the apparent worry on her face. “I assure you, this is more than sufficient.”

The maid clicked her tongue in disapproval, shaking her head as she rummaged through a nearby jewelry box. Taking out one of your finest pastes, she nodded in approval before holding the piece to your skin. “At least wear this,” she reasoned.

Sighing, you raised your hands in submission, “if you really see it as necessary.” there was no point in this effort - after all, his courtship was only a falsehood. After putting on the jewels, your maid rushed you out the door and into the sitting room.

As you entered the room, Shoto was already engaged in light conversation with your mama, the two snacking on pastries and tea. “(Y/n),” he rose, noticing your presence. Your mother shot you a scolding look, obviously disappointed at your long arrival time. Seasons without a caller or any prospects, and this is how you received him? She’d surely bring it up later, the thought of the conversation making you groan internally.

“My lord,” you replied in kind, giving him a slight nod as you approached the table. By now, your mama had evacuated the area, sitting on the opposite side of the room. Her careful gaze analyzed the interaction, making you feel more self-conscious. Although you two typically had some sort of chaperone to protect your reputation, this time felt… different. The undertone of romantic intentions made your head swirl. Sure, his courtship was for a more beneficial resolution, but it was still a courtship nonetheless.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” Shoto said, the start of a grin gracing his face, hinting towards a more teasing manner.

You brush a delicately placed curl from your face, rolling your eyes at his playful words. Your friendship with the man had always been far more casual than typically allowed by your different standings, and his intentions to ‘court’ you did little to change that attitude despite your nerves. It would be best to attempt to maintain some normalcy, lest you draw suspicion towards the sudden change of nature between you two. In your eyes, portraying the courtship as a regular ”friends who simply grew too close” story would call for the least amount of scandal.

“You’ve arrived rather early, my lord,” you jested, pointing out his irregular calling time. It was only 10 AM, an hour earlier than most typical morning calls started. He hadn’t even written, the only warning of his arrival being his parting words the night before. “I was eager to see my future intended,” Shoto replied smoothly. His intended. Despite being unspoken before by the man, the words seemed to roll off his tongue as if they were natural. You knew he wasn’t seriously going to propose, but the words still stirred something within you, causing you to shift nervously in your seat.

His lips upturned slyly, seemingly noting your nerves at the words. He couldn’t explain why, but a sense of satisfaction washed over the man. “I don’t recall agreeing to this arrangement,” you pointed out, voice wavering. You knew you had little choice in the matter - Fuyumi had already witnessed you alone, unchaperoned, and intimately close. Doing nothing else but portraying your situation as a courtship would surely lead to the leaking of scathing rumors. Fuyumi was kind, but some status still had to be upheld.

“I don’t recall any disagreement either,” Shoto pointed out, hopeful you’d accept the proposal. Without you, he’d be forced into a loveless marriage - a fate he’d rather not succumb to. With a sigh, you readjusted your position, drinking a sip of tea as if in deep thought. He looked at you expectantly, eyes gazing into the depths of your soul as he waited for your answer.

“I… I will do it,” you mustered out, your hands wavering as you set down the cup. If you were caught faking this, your reputation would be ruined, and you actually would be doomed to life as a spinster.

Shoto frowned at the hesitation in your voice as he gently took your hand, his touch reminding you of the events from the night prior. “I do not mean to force your hand in the matter.”

As much as Shoto despised the idea of his fate, he valued you far too much to force this upon you. Your heart swelled at the genuine care in his voice, your anxiety settling just a bit. Again, the thought of the unfairness of the situation flashed in your head. If Shoto wasn’t so obtuse, perhaps you actually could fall in love with him one day.

You shook your head, erasing that thought - it’d never be possible. To Shoto, this action looked as if you were denying his worries. “I assure you, you aren’t forcing my hand in this matter - I am mature enough to make my own decisions.” If gossip were to besmirch your name - so be it.

He let out a sigh, clearly relieved by your answer. This truly was to both of your benefits. “Not so fast,” you told him, still not entirely satisfied with the resolution of his proposal. “If we are to do this, there will be conditions.”

He raised an eyebrow curiously, waiting for you to finish the thought. “What kind of conditions?” You shot him an awkward smile, having thought it over the night before. Even if you hesitated, you mulled over everything before accepting Shoto’s offer.

“Well,” you started, clearing your throat. “Behind closed doors, I want everything to be normal,” you told him. Even if your family would now be more meticulous about ensuring a chaperone, the idea of acting romantically in front of so few people failed to delight you. If this was simply an act, you wanted to maintain as much distance as possible from the man, protecting your heart. Besides, your families wouldn’t push the matter too much. Your mama, delighted with the mere idea of you finally having prospects, wouldn’t question the lack of intimacy. Perhaps you could play it off as fleeting shyness towards a first love.

You continued with the terms, your face warming at the memory of last night as you looked down at his hands that grasped yours, “No need to grab me or anything like that either. We will act as if this is a proper courtship,” you scolded. The idea of being caught again caused a shiver to roll down your spine.

He retracted his touch, putting his arms up defensively before laughing at your embarrassed expression. “I’m sorry,” he apologized half-heartedly, realizing you referenced the night before. “I promise I will act as if this is a proper courtship.” This promise brought a smile to your face - at least now, the relationship would be mostly without scandal. Rumors were sure to spread, but the attention on you would hopefully be positive.

“Then I suppose we can close this deal out,” you told him, your intentions now steeled. Nothing could go wrong if he could follow through with these boundaries. Your heart would be safe from his charms, and he would be safe from the constant pursuance of desperate debutantes. Everything, in the end, would safely return to normal, with no one being none the wiser.

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ikigaisvt · 1 year

Text

A good job kiss and red roses.

in which you are jealous of jeonghan giving out roses to his fans during his concert and he catches on quicker than you think.

pairing: jeonghan x gn!reader words count: 883 content: fluff, domestic, idol au warnings: extremely self indulgent im so sorry, a little bit of angst? reader is jealous for like 2 seconds, petnames (for reader: angel, love, sweetheart / for jeonghan: my love), skinship (hug, backhug, talk of kiss, implied kiss), reader is smaller than jeonghan note: hi everyone! i didn't thought i'd post something tonight but today's concert and jeonghan's selca on twt ruined me,;;,;,,, so i have been deluluing! shoutout to @homerunhansol for deluluing with me all day,, this came to be because she told me jeonghan is my bf and he is giving me flowers. i haven't recovered yet! i hope everyone likes it, don't be shy to send feebacks and reblog! (and yes i made a reference to jeonghan's solo song during ideal cut,,, @ jeonghan perform purple rose again pls)

Tonight is one of those night I wish I wasn’t dating an idol, you think to yourself. Of course, you love your boyfriend, Jeonghan, more than words could ever say. You don’t know why it pulls at you heart strings so much to see him give flowers to his fans – maybe it comes from the fact that he gave you flowers only thrice in your 2 years of dating. You know deep down it doesn’t have the same meaning when he gives flowers to his fans between when he gives you flowers – and yet you can’t stop the jealousy seeping in your bones and the pout forming on your lips.

As you wait for him to come home, you continue to scroll down through all the photos and videos you see of fans getting a flower from Jeonghan tonight. I am not going to be jealous; you say to yourself. Once he comes home, this stops. As you look at the clock, you realize he should have come home at least an hour ago but you don’t even have the time to worry that you hear the front door opens and the familiar sound of his steps – just from the sound, you know he is trying to get his shoes off without bending down. Typical Jeonghan.

"Jeonghan?" you call out to him.

"Angel? You waited up for me? Wait- I’m just trying to get this off." you hear him mumble to himself.

You set down your phone and get up from the couch to greet him – and give him his congratulation kiss for a good job. As you make your way to him, you remind yourself to stop being so jealous – and to stop pouting. You don’t even get to the entry that Jeonghan appears in front of you, pretty as ever – and carrying a bouquet of red roses, a little withered.

"I’m sorry I came home so late", he tells you, "I- I had to pick this up", he says as he holds out the bouquet in front of you.

"Is this for me?" you ask him, taking the bouquet in your hands. I can’t believe I doubted him even one second, you tell yourself.

"Of course, love", he says, "who else could it be for?" he says with a teasing tone.

Oh, he knows.

"Your fans, I guess", you mumble more to yourself than for him.

"What was that?" he questions as he follows you into the kitchen.

"You know it all, don’t make me say it again", you answer as you fill a vase with water for your roses. They really need it.

"Yeah, I do, sweetheart", he tells you, his voice getting quieter and not so teasing anymore, encircling your waist with his arms and his chin finding rest on your shoulder. "I can promise you that this doesn’t mean the same. To give them flowers and to give you flowers."

"I know", you say as you work on putting the roses in the vase correctly. You set it down on the counter delicately and put your hands over Jeonghan’s. "I’m not mad, I promise", you almost whisper. "I was a little jealous but now I’m okay. Thank you for the roses, my love", you tell him as your turn around in his hold, your arms resting on his shoulder. "But how did you know I would need this?"

"I realized when I was getting my makeup done for the concert", he tells you, his thumb making circles on the exposed part of your skin – between your shorts and your shirt. "I begged my manager to go buy a bouquet of red roses and drop it off at the dorm. I guess neither him or Seungkwan thought about putting it in water hence why they look so sad", he explains as his hand reaches the roses behind you, your gaze following his movement. "I went directly from the concert hall to pick it up but the traffic was insane so I got here late."

"You didn’t have to do all that, Jeonghan. Especially after that insane concert."

"I know", he says, gazing at you, "but I truly wanted to. Did you watch it?"

"Yeah, I did, you were all amazing. I was cheering for another Aju Nice round", you chuckle.

"We might have died if we kept going", he chuckles. "Thank you for watching it, angel. But I think we’re forgetting something here."

"We are?" you say with a smile, having a pretty good idea of what it is. "And what is that handsome boy?" you say, your fingers playing with his hair at the nape of his neck.

"Where’s my good job kiss?" he asks in a pout.

"You will get it on one condition", you tease him.

"Tell me anything and I’ll do it."

"Yoon Jeonghan, you are tempting me right now", you giggle. "Can I choose the color of the next bouquet of roses you’ll get me?"

"Oh angel, of course", he says, "what color would you like?"

"Purple roses", you whisper as you get on your tiptoe to kiss him. After all, he did a perfect job tonight – at both being a boyfriend and an idol.

thank you so much for reading, i hope you liked it! if you did please don't forget to reblog

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malum-forev · 1 year

Note

Hi, can I request ex husband!bucky x reader with the prompt “what makes you think you can…” from the bingo card??

Hi hiii thank you sooo much for your ask! Sooo, I kind of blacked out and ended up writing something that's over 3k words long. Hope you like it! It's kind of a part 2 to this story I wrote! I thought this prompt fit perfectly! get ready for ANGST CENTRAAALLLL

“Please don’t pick up, please don’t pick up, please don’t pick up.” (Y/n) begged, hearing the third ring on her side of the phone.

She didn’t know what to say. Hell, she didn’t know it was happening until this week! It would have gone completely unnoticed if it hadn’t been for an especially excited teacher. (Y/n)’s stomach just about dropped onto the floor as she heard her daughter’s teacher say how generous and kind Bucky was.

Another ring, one more and I can hang up. She thought but no, nothing with Bucky was ever simple. He couldn’t not answer the phone when (Y/n) wanted. Was that too much to ask? For Bucky to read her mind?

“Hey, do-“ Bucky stopped himself, trying to mask it with a cough. He couldn’t call you that anymore, he had to remember that. “What’s up?”

“Hi, I just wanted to ask you about something but I guess you’re busy so I’ll just-“

Bucky laughed. “I’m never too busy for you.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, talk about nothing being simple. He couldn’t even make the divorce that he wanted easy!

“So, I didn’t know this happened or better yet how it happened but,” She took a deep breath. “Peanut’s school is having a gala, a fund raiser and somehow P put your name down.”

The line went silent for a couple of seconds.

“I tried to explain to the school that you would be busy and that you don’t even go to your work galas.” She tried to joke, gnawing on her bottom lip nervously.

Bucky broke the silence with a noise. “Mhm.”

“But they said that when the parents saw the school was auctioning a day with an Avenger, ticket sales went up like 200 percent.”

“Oh Peanut.” Bucky groaned.

“I know you’re probably going to be busy,” (Y/n) said. “I just had to ask. P threatened to paint her hair blue if I didn’t give you a call.”

“She gets that from you.” Bucky’s low chuckle sent tingles through her body.

(Y/n) leaned on the wall behind her with a deep breath, she could always count on Bucky to calm her nerves. “Sure, we can say P gets her determination and ability to blackmail from me and not her father, James ‘Bucky’ Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky’s belly laugh warmed (Y/n)’s heart, it had been a long time since she’d heard it.

“When’s the thing?”

“It’s next Friday but don’t worry, we can auction off something from that old box I have in the attic. Maybe that old leather jacket-“

“Don’t you dare.” Bucky playfully growled. “Never get rid of my lucky jacket! If I remember correctly that thing is the reason I got a second date out of you.”

Her mind went to that moment in time, all those years ago. It was Bucky’s favorite but he said it looked better on her.

“Is P going to the gala?” Bucky interrupted (Y/n)’s thoughts.

“Yeah, kids can go too.” She continued. “How about you ask Sam to submit a signed shield. The prototypes that no one uses-“

“I’ll be there.”

“What?” Her eyes just about bulged out of their sockets.

“I’ll be there.” Bucky repeated casually, like it wasn’t the first time ever he wanted to go to any of Peanut’s school events. Let alone a gala!

“You do know you’ll have to wear a tux, right?” She noted.

“You’ll be there, right?” Bucky asked.

“Mhm.” (Y/n) brought her bottom lip in between her teeth.

“Then I’m sure I can find one or two in the back of my closet.” Bucky smiled thinking about his options. She won’t be happy, but it’ll be worth it. He thought.

“Oh-okay. So I guess I’ll see you next week.”

(Y/n) smoothed the fabric of her dress nervously. Did Bucky forget he was supposed to be here? Was he sent on a mission at the last moment? She looked over at Peanut at the kids table, so excited that her dad was finally going to something at her school.

When she first started, some of her classmates and teachers didn’t believe she was Bucky’s daughter. (Y/n) and Bucky had chosen an extremely protected private school for the same reason, they didn’t want someone else telling P about the Winter Soldier, not before she was old enough to understand.

After the first tear dropped from Peanut’s eyes, when she told her dad no one at school believed her, you best believe Bucky picked her up every single day. He would often take off his jacket as soon as he got to her school just so everyone would shut their mouths. No one was to make his little girl cry, ever.

(Y/n) turned to the bar behind her and ordered a glass of champagne.

“Do you think he’s actually going to come?” One of the women next to (Y/n) asked her friends.

“Honey, if he does, you gals better take out a loan because that man is going home with me.” An older woman laughed into her drink.

“A recently divorced hunk? Sign me up. I don’t need the full day, just a couple of hours with him and it’ll be enough.” Another one said.

(Y/n) cringed at their words. She obviously has eyes, she knew what her ex-husband looked like but did people have to talk about him like he was just a piece of meat?

The whole room suddenly got quiet. (Y/n) looked left and right to see what had happened and it wasn’t long until she found out. Bucky strolled into the room.

He did not. (Y/n) thought.

Bucky was wearing the tuxedo he wore at their wedding. The black-on-black combination made him look even more mysterious than he already was. But every ounce of his dark persona disappeared once he heard the two magic words.

“Hi Daddy!” Peanut came running towards Bucky at full speed. With a small umph Bucky picked up his daughter and twirled her around.

“Hello princess.” Bucky smiled, melting for his sweet little girl. “Why don’t you tell me where mommy is?”

Peanut pointed a chubby finger towards (Y/n) and she held up her champagne glass, the murmurs and gasps of the women next to her didn’t go unnoticed.

Bucky placed Peanut back on the floor and set his eyes on (Y/n), it was like everything and everyone around him became blurry. He could only see her.

“You’re late.” (Y/n) looked up at him.

“I’m the talent, I am never late.” Bucky smiled at her, the kind of smile that made women all over the world want to drop to their knees, for various reasons.

(Y/n) laughed, pushing Bucky away with her left hand. Bucky took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing the spot on her third finger where her ring used to sit.

“You look radiant.” Bucky came closer to (Y/n) placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

She took in his intoxicating smell, it had been forever since she’d been this close to him. (Y/n) took a deep breath, the memories coming to life again. But before she could get lost in the past, the present came into view.

(Y/n) cleared her throat and took a step back before turning to the women gawking next to them. “Ladies, may I introduced you to my ex-husband, James?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned to them, a forced smile playing on his lips.

(Y/n) slipped from the group with a light laugh and sat down at her table, the auction about to start.

It wasn’t long before Bucky’s category came up, women desperate to cheat on their husbands without actually doing it. (Y/n) smiled cheekily as she saw Bucky fidget on the stage, the bright lights made him feel like he was a show horse.

“Mr. Barnes was kind enough to auction a day with an Avenger, the winner of this would spend the day at the Avengers Compound and meet some of the people responsible for our safety!” Peanut’s principal spoke into the microphone.

“I can’t assure a tour of the compound.” Bucky’s raspy voice said through the speakers.

“We’ll see the details later.” The principal waved him off. “How about we start the bidding at four hundred dollars?”

“Five hundred.” A woman way too old to be with Bucky, and that’s taking into consideration that he’s over a hundred years old, raised her bid card.

“Six hundred.” Another woman said.

“Seven hundred.” A third spoke.

Bucky’s eyes kept getting bigger and bigger, he hadn’t considered the fact that women would actually bid to be with him. He turned to (Y/n) with pleading eyes.

“Mommy, aren’t you gonna bid on daddy?” P asked her.

“Honey-“ (Y/n) was about to explain how for some people spending a day with her Dad would be the experience of a lifetime, when one of the women she heard speaking so vulgarly about Bucky raised her card.

“One thousand dollars.” The woman had a smug look on her face.

“Going once-“ The principal said.

“Mommy do something.” Peanut whispered.

“Going twice.” Bucky threw his head back. Fuuck. He thought.

“Go-“

“Two thousand dollars.” (Y/n) raised her card.

Bucky’s head snapped forward at the sound of her voice. His scowl turned into a smile.

“Sold, to the lady in the back.” The principal’s eyes just about turned into dollar signs.

“I didn’t get the chance to thank you.” Bucky whispered, hiking Peanut’s body up. At some point in the night she had fallen asleep and now her father was carrying her to (Y/n)’s car.

(Y/n) waved her hand. “It was nothing. I couldn’t let you spend a day with that hornets’ nest. She would’ve eaten you alive.

“Still- thank you.” Bucky’s kind eyes were one of the first things that drew (Y/n) to him, the same shade he now shared with his daughter.

(Y/n) unlocked her car so he could strap Peanut in.

“So, when should I pick you up?” Bucky opened (Y/n)’s door so she could get in.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, about the auction thing. You don’t have to do that, I’m sure you’re going to be busy.”

“How’s next Thursday at 8 sound? We can take P to school and I’ll give you an extremely memorable ‘Day with an Avenger’.” Bucky’s smooth words coated her heart.

“I’ve already had a couple of ‘Days with an Avenger’ and they haven’t been that memorable.” She teased.

“I can think of a couple of memorable days where you would beg-“

(Y/n) clamped her hand over Bucky’s mouth. “You can’t say that!”

“Would I be lying?” Bucky’s muffled voice said proudly.

“I’ll see you next Thursday.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes with a smile. “Please don’t be late.”

“Promise.”

The doorbell rang at 7:50 am on Thursday.

“Be careful Peanut!” (Y/n) yelled as she opened the door. “Don’t fall from the stool! I don’t really feel like visiting the hospital right now.”

She huffed as she opened the door. Mornings were always chaotic but now, without another pair of helping hands it felt impossible. But here he was.

Bucky stood at the other side of the door, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. A bouquet of her favorite flowers on one hand and balancing two coffees on the other.

“Good morning.” Bucky placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “Need help with anything?”

(Y/n) stepped aside with her jaw on the floor, letting Bucky come inside.

“Hiya Daddy!” Peanut beamed, shoving another forkful of French toast in her mouth.

“How’s my number one girl doing this morning?” Bucky asked, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

(Y/n) stepped into the kitchen, feeling like she’d walked into another dimension.

“Sorry doll, you’ve been bumped down to the number two spot.” Bucky winked at (Y/n) and her eyebrows shot up. “You still keep the vases on the top cupboard?”

(Y/n) slowly nodded, the shocked expression never left her.

Definitely an alternate dimension, it’s the only explanation. She thought.

Drop off was perfect and the ride to the compound was actually pleasant.

“You got a new car.” (Y/n) hummed, looking around Bucky’s new SUV.

He nodded proudly. “I can’t ride around on a bike forever. Plus, you asked me to get a car.”

“I asked you to get a car over a year ago.” She snorted.

Bucky shrugged, the relaxed smile on his lips never faltered. “Took me a while but I got it.”

(Y/n) eyed her ex-husband curiously. Fresh haircut, cologne, pressed t-shirt. New car, more present. Something changed. “Okay, who is she?”

“Who’s who?” Bucky’s forehead creased.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child, you can tell me who she is.”

“If you’re trying to say I’m dating someone, I’m not.” Bucky looked a little offended.

“I never said anything about dating.” (Y/n) laughed. “You can get some without making it official.”

“I’m not doing that either.” Bucky grumbled, his grip on the steering wheel made his knuckles white.

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t know you not getting any was a sore subject.” She held her hands up in surrender and laughed. “You do know you can do that right? I’m pretty sure the papers we signed mean that we’re no longer together, meaning you can have se-“

Bucky’s groan interrupted her, he ran his palm through his face. “Can we not talk about my sex life please? I actually have a nice day planned, and it doesn’t include this topic of conversation.”

“You. Have a day planned.” She emphasized the words.

“Please feel free make me sound more like an asshole.” Bucky chuckled.

And what a day did he have planned.

It started by taking her to the newly renovated Avengers Museum on the compound. Bucky showed (Y/n) a few never before seen pictures of himself from the 40’s.

“The investigators dug these up.” He smiled.

“You were a baby!” She laughed, posing for a picture next to the blown-up print of him.

“You think Peanut will look like me when she’s a little bit older?” Bucky came up behind her, resting his head on hers and tossing his arms over her shoulders.

(Y/n) relaxed into his body. “You want her to look more like you? She’s basically your twin.”

His laugh made her whole body vibrate. “What can I say? We should have tried to get a boy after P, maybe he would look like you.”

Afterwards came a late lunch by the lake followed by a tour of the new wing dedicated to Steve Rogers. Bucky had thought of everything. He asked Sam to pick up Peanut from school and make sure she did her homework, took a bath and brushed her teeth before going to bed.

The sun was setting as Bucky drove (Y/n) home, he rested his hand on the center console hoping she would take it. It wasn’t long until she intertwined their fingers.

Bucky opened her side of the door and helped her down. (Y/n) leaned on his car.

“Thank you for a lovely day.” She smiled. “Don’t know if it was worth 2k but, I had an amazing time.”

Bucky fake gasped, clutching the left side of his chest. “You don’t think I’m worth two thousand measly dollars?”

“Some of us actually have to work to get two thousand dollars, not just pose around and look cute.” She bit the inside of her cheek to stop a smile from forming.

Bucky stepped closer to her. “Well I would pay you way more than that to pose around for me. You already have the cute thing down to a T.”

He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, dragging his knuckles against her cheek and stopping at her lips. Bucky pulled her closer to him and placed his lips on hers. At first it was soft but once his brain registered what was happening, it turned dark and hungry. It was like he was running out of oxygen and the only thing that could breathe life into him was her kiss.

With a gasp, she pushed him away.

“What are you doing?” (Y/n) asked breathlessly, bringing her fingers to her throbbing lips.

“(Y/n), please.” Bucky sighed. “I want you, I need you. And I’m not talking about stupid sex, I’m talking about you. Talking to you every day, telling me off for things I do or don’t do, I want us. Together.”

Her eyebrows creased, she felt her body heat up with rage. “What makes you think you can kiss me like that? Like nothing’s ever happened. Like you’ve forgotten we’re not together anymore.”

“Please.” Bucky’s crystal blue eyes reddened. “Do you want me to get on my knees? Because I’ll do it. I’m begging you, please take me back. I want to be with you, forever.”

(Y/n) sniffled, tears of her own threatening to fall. “I’m not falling for this, not again. I’m about to finish mending my broken heart, I’ve just finished putting the pieces back together and for you to come here and-“

“I’m trying-“ Bucky cried. “I’m really trying to show you that I’ve changed.”

(Y/n) let out a dry laugh. “Does going to one gala and buying a car mean you’ve changed? I asked you to buy that thing for a whole year and you never even thought about it.”

“But I’m doing it now, does that mean anything?” Bucky asked with saddened eyes.

“Yes, it means that you only want me because you can’t have me.”

“That’s not-“ He tried to argue but she turned towards her door.

“Thank you for the nice day James but, I have to go to my real life. The one in which we’re still divorced and you have to leave for some undisclosed amount of time to a classified location. Do you remember? Your reallife.” (Y/n) opened her front door, thanking Sam for taking care of Peanut.

Bucky was left on the driveway with tears running down his cheek.

Part 3 here!

Hi hii! I've tagged everyone who commented Pt2 on my first fic and reblogged! <3 Hope you guys like it, if you do remember to like reblog and comment! I'll love you forever if you do <3

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour @aimeekatee @learisa @deadspeed @happinessinthebeing @multitargaryen @ajordan2020 @almosttoopizza @empollito @jbbarnesgirl. @uniquecroissant @mavrellover91 @angstysebfan @buckswhore-com @coffeebooksandfandom @azenpal @stanofmanythingslol @msknb-blog @intrepidacious @ladyloki3 @buck-fics @honeyglee @vileepponine @sebstanwhore @helium-queen @lokislady82 @crazygirlinthisworld @superforgottensoul @bibbidibobbidibucky @mdc-203081

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

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teecupangel · 3 months

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Hi teecup, I hope ur having a great day/noon/night!

Forgive me if the things i'm about to say don't make much sense. It's been a vey, very, very, difficult time for me and my countrymen here, and my ability to make coherent sentences have declined drastically. So, yeah... BUT! That doesn't matter haha.

Anyways, I had a thought. And i'm not even sure how or why i got it but.... hear me out now...

Our boy, Desmond, gets thrown back in time as usual, same old same old, right? Exept, this time he doesn't end up in the Big Three™'s time-line. He ends up in Al-Mualim's time. *insert mind-blown emoji here cuz i can't find it rn*

And ik that i'm not a certified AC Expert like u and many others, and i haven't really finished any of the AC games yet (i've only seen bits of AC III and have only started AC 2, I also haven't finished AC 1)

But I do know that he wasn't really that creepy and evil in his youth/ b4 he became The Old Man of the Moutain, so i was thinking maybe Desmond ends up in that era of Al Mualim or is it Rashid al-Din Sinan? I know that he's based on a real historical figure but i'm not so sure if he's called that in-game?

And knowing Desmond, he'd probably get the urge to kill Rashid (i hope i'm using the name correctly) the time he figures shit out and connect that dots. But he would end up not doing that, cuz u know, it might fuck up the time-line and Altaïr might end up not being born, creating a domino-effect.

I want Desmond to meet Rashid before he starts to becom the Al Mualim we know today, so that Desmond can see how he was b4 the evants of AC 1.

Maybe Rashid's an arrogant ass, or a nerdy loser, or a popular assassin- who knows! The possibilites are endless!! (or maybe he's an obsessive bastard who gets obsessed with Desmond cuz he's just full of mysteries and wonders :Dc )

And blah blah blah, plot here, plot there, Isu-bullshit this, time shenanigans that, and BOOM they meet.

And romance ensues? :3 (romace wil absolutely ensue :}}} )

NOW, BEFORE- BEFORE YOU TIE ME TO A STAKE AND BURN ME ALIVE FOR THIS- i think it'd be a cute idea, and who knows? maybe Rashid was hot in his prime *insert lenny face cuz even after all these years i still don't know how to type it and is too lazy to cop paste it* and maybe he liked to solve mysteries and had a thing for the unexplainable. And Desmond is the most unexplainable, most bizarre thing to have graced the earth :33333.

Now that i've got this idea out of my system i'm gonna go pray for the down fall of my coutry's shit for brain, good for nothing military government/hj.

bye! *evaporates*

I hope you’re doing alright and I’m sorry that it took two months before I could answer your ask TTATT

As far as I know, he was only called Al Mualim because of legal reasons but Rashid ad-Din Sinan was the leader of the Assassins in Masyaf during 1191 so it’s safe to assume Al Mualim is AC’s version of Rashid (historically he died in 1193, not 1191.

Okay. We can make this work.

We put Desmond at around the same time he’s the recruit and we make it hard for him to realize he’s Al Mualim until it’s too late by doing one simple thing:

Desmond doesn’t know Al Mualim’s real name.

He always knew it as Al Mualim. As far as he knew, Al Mualim was his actual name.

Then he remembered that Al Mualim can mean mentor and bangs his head on the nearest flat surface.

His mission has been clear from the start.

Become an Assassin, take out Al Mualim before he does shit, find Umar and adopt him then play matchmaker so Altaïr would be born.

And no.

Desmond wasn’t going to think about the whole “can you truly be sure that the person who will be born will be Altaïr if you change the circumstances of his conception?”

Yeah.

His head hurts just thinking about it so he won’t.

For now, he’ll focus on his training while keeping a look out for anyone who gives of Al Mualim vibes.

What’s the Al Mualim vibes?

Manipulative old man vibes.

The problem is…

Rashid is one of the recruits in the same batch as Desmond and he becomes Desmond’s closest friend.

And there was no way Desmond would ever be friends with a future power hungry asshole like Al Mualim.

No way.

The way their relationship becomes romantic really depends on the kind of personality young Rashid would have.

A nerdy loser who starts making a name for himself because of his intelligence and tactical mind would start off as the kid Desmond sorta looks after. When he starts to show that his strength lies in making plans and quick judgments, he becomes the man whispering on Desmond’s ear. Providing plans and suggestions while giving Desmond a heads up on the less savory words people say about him. Desmond would never think this Rashid is Al Mualim because he’s nice and truly do want to help Desmond. This is also how Rashid would show his love for Desmond and, really, Desmond would think they’re bros and when he realizes that Rashid actually loves him, he’d think “oh, I am Ezio’s descendant”

An arrogant ass Rashid would butt heads with Desmond but Desmond would find himself fond of the man because he reminds him of AC1 Altaïr. This is the Rashid who would definitely be counted as a tsundere and their relationship would start when Rashid just flatout tells Desmond that he wants to do unspeakable things to him while they’re arguing. Desmond is offended because “tugging on my pigtails doesn’t work in real life, dumbass!” and Rashid is just “???” because what the fuck are pigtails??? Lots of awkwardness until Desmond realize that butting heads with Rashid is really how they flirt.

Now. Popular Assassin Rashid is more on the side of polite but is absolutely Desmond’s rival. Whatever it is, the two of them are always competing. Unlike the arrogant ass version, this Rashid is always nice to Desmond. The whole “no hard feelings” and pure competitiveness are what drives their relationship. This is the one where the two of them spar privately one time and things happen. They would try to distant themselves from one another for a bit until they finally talk it out. Rashid honestly didn’t think he loved Desmond until the whole ‘after-sparring’ thing.

Whichever you pick as Rashid’s background, he will become obsessed with Desmond but it’s more on the side of “I will do everything to make Desmond happy” which is good for Desmond but not really good for anyone against him.

Desmond is the one who adopts Umar in this one and Umar imprints on him like a baby duckling to a mama duckling. Everyone actually assumed Umar is his bastard son. Desmond ignores it even though he’s only like… a decade and a half older than Umar.

Rashid definitely treats him like Desmond’s son. He’s Umar’s favorite of all of Desmond’s friends.

And really, Desmond should have seen that as a hint of Rashid’s ‘future’.

Speaking of the future.

He’s been looking for Al Mualim this entire time and he has his suspects (Rashid, however, is not on the list) but honestly?

He’s just waiting for the person who would be picked as the one to lead the expansion to Masyaf since that would be Al Mualim.

Desmond has, unfortunately, fucked up the timeline so badly that the person chosen to lead the expansion?

It was Desmond.

Sidebar: Faheem would be that cute younger brother who turns grumpy when he grows up. Desmond will forever grieve the lost of little cute Faheem. Faheem is always embarrassed when Desmond talked about his ‘past’.

#umar’s parents are pretty much desmond and rashid #desmond would probably realize rashid is al mualim once they’re older #and at that point #he already got his ‘happy ending’#and just goes #“well i guess i fixed him???”#he didn’t fix shit #he just transferred rashid’s desire for power and knowledge #to a desire to be with him #assassin's creed #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #desmond miles #al mualim

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severalforraelee · 1 year

Text

The Girls Part 14: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to Team Scuderia Ferrari

Word count: 4,410

Written by raelee / Posted Oct 10

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“I heard you were in Monaco and didn’t come see me,” Lando accuses as soon as I answer his FaceTime call.

“You were already in Mexico,” I answer defensively.

“Yeah, but asking me would’ve still been nice.”

“Why would I ask if I already knew that you weren’t there?” I question.

He opens his mouth to respond but stops, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I watch his eyes flicker on the screen, and as I’m about to ask him about the sudden movement, he answers my unasked question.

“Where are you right now?”

“Oh, uh,” I laugh nervously, causing Lando to squint at me. “I’m actually in my new flat.”

“Your new flat?” Lando raises his eyebrows at me.

“Yeah, Charles and I actually moved in together.” I wince, waiting for the earful that I’m about to receive.

If Lando doesn’t like Charles even staying at my flat, he’s going to hate that we live together now. Even if I told him that Charles is gone half of the year and we stay in different bedrooms he still wouldn’t be happy about it.

Lando opens his mouth, about to speak again, when his doorbell suddenly rings. I thank whatever God is listening in on our conversation for that.

“Hold on,” he tells me like I have another option, heading towards his door so that I’m left staring at his ceiling. I hear muffled voices before he returns.

“Who was that?” I ask, hoping that the question will distract him from our previous topic.

“The delivery man,” he answers.

“Oh, what’d you get?”

“It’s not for me.”

I give him a questioning look at the response.

“They’re birthday presents for Ada and Lucy.”

Ada and Lucy's second birthday is coming up. They’re so excited to have a day that’s just dedicated to celebrating them. They’re especially looking forward to being able to eat cake and junk food all day, and open presents.

Unfortunately, it also falls on the day of the grand prix in Brazil. So Lando and Charles, two of their favorite people, won’t be able to celebrate their birthday with them on their actual birthday.

It’s going to be extremely difficult to explain to the girls why we’re celebrating, but why we’re not celebrating with the ones that they love.

“You didn’t have to buy them anything, Lando,” I insist.

“They’re my nieces, they’re going to get spoiled.”

“Well, thank you. We appreciate it. Were you going to come to London soon to celebrate with us?” I question.

It’s at a weird point in the season right now. There’s only a few races left until the season ends and winter break starts, so the atmosphere is weird. There’s a lot of testing and media duties for the drivers to do, so they’re at one of their busiest points, but everyone is ready for the season to just be done so they can get a little break.

“Well I was actually thinking that I could give them the presents in Brazil.”

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “Like… you give them to Charles and Charles gives them to Ada and Lucy?”

“No, like you, Ada, and Lucy come to Brazil to watch the grand prix and McClaren will throw a birthday party for them, and I can give them their gifts then,” he suggests.

“Oh,” I’m taken by surprise. It’s honestly something that I hadn’t considered. “Lando, the grand prix is in like two weeks, that’s very short notice.”

“Yeah, but you already said that you don’t have classes on Fridays. And I think you said you work every other Friday and if I did my math correctly, you would have off that Friday,” he explains.

“I have a class on Monday in the afternoon, so if we flew back Sunday night or Monday morning I would still be able to make it…” I shake my head.

I can’t believe I’m considering this.

Going to a grand prix would bring the opposite of what I want for the girls. It would draw attention to them, especially if McClaren hosts a birthday party for them. After all of the drama on social media and people spotting us as a family of four out in public and posting about it, it makes me worried to go to Lando and Charles’ home away from home.

But… the girls have been showing more and more interest while watching the races lately. And I would love for them to be at a race to see their father and their uncle in their element. Plus meeting the people that Charles and Lando surround themselves with the majority of the weekend would be nice.

“I’ll have to think about it, Lando,” I sigh. “It just might be too hard and too soon after going to Monaco.”

“I get it, you don’t want to see your brother,” he jokes.

I roll my eyes. “Oh no, you caught me.”

“Let me know what you decide, alright? I can fly back and help you fly out with the girls, and I can pay for your flights and hotels and everything,” he offers.

I take a deep breath, gearing up to tell him that he doesn’t need to worry about that and I could figure it out myself. Then, I stop. “Okay, Lando.”

“You know what would be great?” Charles asks.

“What?” My eyes shift from the textbook in front of me to my laptop screen that has the problem pulled up, working through it in my head while also trying to carry a conversation with Charles.

“If you came to the Brazil grand prix with Ada and Lucy so that we could celebrate their birthday as a family.”

My head snaps towards where he’s set up on a FaceTime call on my phone leaned up against my water bottle.

“What?” I repeat my earlier question, although this time with surprise. My heart flutters when I catch that he referred to the four of us as a family. I know that I do it, but it’s nice to know that he does it too.

“Yeah, you know. We could celebrate their second birthday on their actual birthday, they could have a little party at Ferrari,” he suggests. “It’d be fun.”

“Have-”I pause at the question that I’m about to ask, already not believing the words that are about to leave my mouth, but Charles urges me on. “Have you been talking to my brother at all?”

“What? Why would you ask that?”

He’s a terrible actor.

“Because he said the exact same thing,” I deadpan.

“Great minds think alike.”

I sigh. “I’ll tell you the same thing that I told him. I’ll think about it.”

“If you’re worried about traveling with Ada and Lucy, I can fly back and fly out to Brazil with you three,” he offers.

“God, you really did talk to Lando,” I murmur. “You know what? Fine. If you and Lando can come out and help me fly out to Brazil with two toddlers and all of our luggage, we can spend their birthday at the grand prix in Brazil. I’m sure they would love that.”

“You’re not going to regret it, mon amour,” he grins enthusiastically. “I’m going to call Lando now to figure out all of the details.”

“Okay, have-”The phone call ends before I can finish my sentence. “Fun.”

I roll my eyes at the clear excitement on Charles’ face, but can’t hide the smile that’s growing on my lips.

“Lando, can you grab a bag, please?”

It’s like deja vu, except this time Lando is the one holding Ada and Lucy’s hands while I walk alongside Charles who struggles with the bags once again.

“No, I’m escorting Ada and Lucy right now,” Lando denies. Charles gives him a look of disbelief. “Uncle privileges.”

“Charles, just let me grab-””Not you, mon amour,” he declines, heaving a bag higher onto his shoulder.

I roll my eyes at his stubbornness but don’t persist any further.

I’m just surprised that I’m in the airport for the second time this month, jetting off on yet another international trip. I’m shocked that I’m doing this at this point in my life, nonetheless with two toddlers by my side.

Of course I have help from Lando and Charles (although, is Lando really help?) but after trying so hard to keep my daughters out of the public eye, taking them to a place where people from all walks of life attend is crazy to me. I can’t help but feel weirdly proud of myself for how far I’ve come.

“Are you okay?” Lando’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I return his gaze. “You just kind of zoned out there.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I smile at him and he smiles back.

And they’re genuine smiles. I really am fine.

Charles gets us in on Friday without having to deal with any of the media. I’m secretly relieved- as much as I’ve tried to reassure him that I don’t mind the media and fans, we’ll just have to hide the girls’ faces as best as we can, he’s taking all precautions to protect their privacy as best as we can.

“What are my nieces wearing?” A voice snaps me out of my quiet bickering with a whining Ada.

“Shirts and jeans,” I answer, picking her up and into my arms.

“Ferrari shirts,” Charles smirks at Lando.

“Ugh,” Lando wrinkles his nose in disgust. “That won’t do.” He glares at Ada’s gray Ferrari T-shirt and Lucy’s red one. “I’ll find something else for you.”

He disappears before Charles and I can say anything else.

I roll my eyes, a point for Charles not to comment on it, before we make our way into the Ferrari garage.

“Y/N!” I’m pulled into a pair of arms as soon as I enter. I don’t recognize the arms- he’s gotten much more muscular over time- but I do recognize the cologne.

He still needs to use less of it.

“Oh, Carlos,” I wrap my free arm around him.

When I was Lando’s assistant and Carlos still drove at McClaren, we became close because of their close friendship. I didn’t tag along on all of their outings, I hate golf, but we would go out to dinner and for walks together.

We became close fast.

And it was difficult when I had to end that friendship.

I pull back, wiping at the light tears in my eyes at the sudden rush of emotions hitting me. Luckily, Carlos doesn’t comment on it, leaning in closer to brush his thumb against the little girl in my arm’s cheek.

“And this must be Ada, I see you in all of your mother’s stories.”

“Is everyone on your private story’s list but me?” Charles whines.

“Step it up, Charles,” Carlos grins at his teammate, brushing a strand of Lucy’s hair behind her ear. Her cheeks blush as she stares at him.

“Oh no, no boys,” Charles scolds gently, turning away so that Lucy could no longer face Carlos.

To my surprise, Ada’s staring back at Carlos. Not in a bashful way like her sister, but in a curious way.

“I heard it’s your birthday,” Carlos says to Ada and Lucy.

“On Sunday they turn two,” I explain.

“Well I got you birthday presents that you need to open today.” He grabs two nearby bags.

“Carlos, they don't need anything. Especially not today, it’s not their birthday yet,” Charles tells his teammate.

“They’re opening them anyway.”

Carlos’ tone leaves no room for argument and the girls have already focused on the bags, so Carlos hands them over to open.

They’re toddler sized Ferrari hats, but on the brim there’s a 55 and they’re both signed by Carlos.

“Really? You signed it too?” Charles looks unimpressed. I can’t help but laugh, which earns a grin for Carlos and a glare from Charles.

“They could make a nice buck off of it one day.”

I try to subtly walk through the paddock back to the Ferrari garage to meet Charles after showing the girls the cars on the track for qualifying, but it’s not easy with a tired toddler on each hip while trying to look out for any phones recording or taking pictures of us.

An arm suddenly pushes on my back, guiding me towards a different garage.

“These are my nieces,” Lando’s familiar voice announces proudly to the group of mechanics and engineers.

“Ew, Lando, get your arm off of me, you’re all sweaty,” I whine.

He rolls his eyes but removes his arm, reaching out to forcibly take the exhausted girls from my arms into his.

“No, you must be tired from the race, I can hold them,” I reassure them.

“Let me spend time with my girls,” he disagrees.

“And who might you be?” One of the mechanics raises an eyebrow at me flirtatiously.

Before I can handle it (in other words, embarrass myself) Lando speaks up, glaring at the mechanic. “She’s my sister.”

One of the other mechanics nudges the guy and mumbles something. All I can manage to hear is ‘Leclerc.’

Speak of the devil and he may appear.

“What are you doing here?” Charles asks in confusion, resting a hand on my waist gently and stepping around me to wave at his daughters.

“Lando pulled me in here,” I explain.

“Did you come to spy on the enemy, Leclerc?” A man I’ve only seen in photos approaches. Well, he’s really just a boy.

“Oscar Piastri,” my face lights up at the sight of him and I step forward to shake his hand. “It’s so great to finally meet you. You know, I loved your overtake in F2 in Bahrain-””Now hold on,” Lando interrupts me. “Are you telling me that my sister is actually an Oscar Piastri fan?”

“Yes, I really am,” I admit, watching as Charles wrestles Ada out of Lando’s arms.

“I can’t believe this, my own sister likes my teammate more than she likes me,” my brother says in mock disbelief.

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m the one decorating the cake for her daughters’ birthday party on Sunday,” Oscar grins smugly.

“Birthday party? On Sunday? Here?” Charles repeats parts of the sentence, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes, that’s what he just said. Do you need your ears checked or something?” Lando questions jokingly.

“You can’t have a birthday party for the girls here on Sunday. We’re having a birthday party for them in the Ferrari motorhome,” Charles says.

“Well I’m their uncle that they rarely see, so they really should be spending more time here with me, and that includes having their birthday party here,” Lando responds.

“And I’m their dad, so they should have their birthday party in a familiar environment. And that’s surrounded by red,” Charles narrows his eyes at his competitor.

As if they both suddenly remember that I’m there, they turn to look at me with expectant gazes. As soon as I recognize the expressions, I laugh.

“Oh hell no, you’re not dragging me into this. Figure it out yourselves.”

They turn back to each other in defeat, narrowing their eyes at each other once again. This is going to be a long weekend.

“Oh my god,” I gape at the screen, hugging the girls tight to me as Charles crosses the line for a second place finish. “Dad came in second place, girls.”

The girls, despite not knowing what I’m saying, clap their hands in excitement, causing the engineers and mechanics around me to laugh.

“Are you going to the podium?” One of them asks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I frown, fighting myself internally.

On one hand, it would be a great opportunity to remind Charles that I care about his career and success. Having his daughters at a race with him to watch him for the first time and then to get a podium, I know he’d be a little disappointed if we weren’t to go to the podium celebrations.

But on the other hand, I’m still worried about Ada and Lucy’s privacy. I know that pictures of their faces are already out there, but I want to do all that I can to prevent more of them from getting out. I want them to be able to have that privacy to decide what they want to do in the future instead of always being known as Charles Leclerc’s daughters. And a grand prix with cameras and strangers everywhere… they’re bound to constantly be on camera, especially with the controversy surrounding their existence and sudden appearance.

“Are you worried about their faces being seen?” Another mechanic asks. “Because I have a solution.”

I give him a curious look and he grabs two nearby helmets used for decoration, putting them over the girls heads. They squeal in excitement and I laugh.

“That’s genius.”

Together we make our way to the podium, crowding together behind the fence for Charles, Max, and Sergio to drive up. Everyone around me is polite, making sure to leave me plenty of room with a toddler on each hip.

When Charles pulls up and sees us, an expression that I’ve never seen before appears on his face. It lights up and it’s full of adoration, and he practically runs over to us.

He rips his helmet off, throwing it haphazardly on the ground behind him before leaning forward, lifting the visor of Ada’s helmet and placing a kiss on her nose. He does the same to Lucy and I smile at the gesture, expecting him to move on to the guys beside me to celebrate with them.

To my surprise, he pulls me into a hug, Ada and Lucy squished between us.

“Happy for you,” I confess to him, choking back the sobs that want to escape. He gives me a soft smile, able to tell that I’m seconds away from crying.

Thankfully he moves on to the guys before I start bawling my eyes out. I don’t know why I feel like crying. Maybe because this feels so… natural. Being at grand prixs again, surrounded by all of the drivers and mechanics and engineers. Taking my daughters to grand prixs, showing them the world that their uncle and dad were raised in and now are dominating.

Maybe it’s the pride that I feel for Charles, who’s having such a great season.

When Charles is up on the podium, I do let a tear slip.

“Good, I was just looking for you. They’re setting up the birthday party at the McClaren motorhome right now,” Lando catches up to the four of us as we walk back to the Ferrari motorhome.

“Lando, the Ferrari motorhome is already getting their birthday party ready,” Charles informs him slowly.

“Well, I already told you that McClaren’s going to host their birthday party.”

“And I already told you that Ferrari’s going to host their birthday party.”

Once again, the two stare each other down.

God I’m really getting sick of this.

“Guys, I have something to show you,” Alex suddenly appears, breaking the tension.

“Oh thank god,” I mumble, following behind him as he begins to make his way down the paddock.

“Is it in the Williams motorhome? That’s such a far walk,” Lando whines. I hear a thump, then another thump as Lando hits Charles back.

Alex holds the door open for us and Ada and Lucy enter ahead of everyone else. All of the sudden, a bunch of people jump out from behind the furniture in the room, shouting “Surprise!” and blowing party blowers.

Ada looks around shyly, clinging to my leg, while Lucy takes a step forward with a wide grin, loving the attention. There’s people from all the teams here, from employees in the communication departments to mechanics, engineers, and drivers.

I recognize a lot of the faces even years later, but there’s some new ones as well.

“Thank you for this,” I murmur to Alex as Lance Stroll and Esteban Ocon manage to pry Ada off my leg to dance and Lucy watches in a trance as Fernando Alonso and Sergio Perez engage in a conversion in Spanish.

“Of course,” he grins at me, knowing how much easier it is to have this party at a neutral location. Not only to stop the fighting, but also to hopefully mend the relationship between Lando and Charles.

It’s only when Ada and Lucy blow out the candles on their cake that it hits me. I have two two year olds.

Of course I know that they’re not the small babies that I once cradled in my arms or fed bottles to, but it’s so much harder actually realizing it. They’ll never be as little as they are now.

And right now… they’re not even that little. Right now they’re holding their own forks, feeding themselves cake while trying to keep it off of themselves as best as they can. They’re real people with thoughts and emotions, and they no longer need me as much as they once did.

It makes my heart hurt.

I glance over at Charles, thinking of his reaction when we found out that I wasn’t pregnant. If anyone’s the father of my girls, I’m glad that it’s him. It makes me curious about my future children… what their dad will be like. If it’ll be Charles.

“Why is she staring at him like that?” Alex’s question snaps me out of my thoughts.

My cheeks blush, thinking that I’ve been caught, but once I follow his sightline I see Lucy staring at Carlos, batting her eyelashes at him.

“She’s trying to flirt with him,” I inform him.

“That’s flirting with him?” Esteban raises his eyebrows in disbelief. It’s literally just staring creepily at Carlos and blinking quickly. She needs to work on it.

“I wonder where she learned that from,” Lily giggles, nudging me.

“That’s a classic Y/N move,” Charles chimes in.

“What? No it’s not,” I deny, reaching over to push his shoulder teasingly.

“Please, do you not remember?”

“Remember what?”

He grins at me and it’s like we’re the only two people in the room. “Remember when we would lay in bed at night on a race weekend and you would bat those pretty little eyelashes at me, ‘Oh Charles, can you please go get me a chocolate bar from the vending machine?’”

“I never did that,” I exclaim.

“Yes you did, on multiple occasions. I’m surprised we were never caught with how often I would have to buy you damn chocolate bars,” he teases.

I laugh and he joins in softly.

Someone clearing their throat snaps us out of the moment and I suddenly remember there’s people around us.

“Um, let’s move on to presents,” I announce awkwardly.

Ada and Lucy get so much stuff. Esteban gets them a book on how to learn French- I guess he doesn't know much about two year olds, Pierre gets them mini purses from Louis Vuitton, Lando had two toddler sized play cars sent to our new apartment but gives the girls practically the whole Barbie aisle for the party, and Max gets them a baby shark toy (something about how good the song is).

Slowly, everyone begins to leave, and Lando and George keep the girls entertained while Charles and I begin to clean up.

“Well I’d say the party was a success,” I say to Charles, bending down to pick wrapping paper off of the ground.

“Yeah, Albon did a great job hosting. Ada and Lucy had a lot of fun,” he glances over to where they’re playing with their new toys.

“So did the drivers,” I chuckle.

I begin to rise at an angle, hands full of wrapping paper as Charles bends down at an angle to grab some more wrapping paper. I turn my head at the same time he ducks his down, his lips landing on my own.

We kiss for a split second, lips moving against each other in sync before I remember where we are and pull away with a quiet gasp.

My eyes look over at the group of four, seeing them still playing. They didn’t notice the accidental kiss at all.

The damage is done as I look over at Charles, who’s staring back at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. I stare back with blushing cheeks.

“Are you guys almost done?” Lando calls out, breaking our staring competition.

“Yeah, just a little bit longer,” I agree, not breaking the gaze with Charles.

We don't have the chance to talk about it.

As soon as we get back to the hotel, both girls are sent into meltdowns from the sugar high and a long, exhausting day. Then, since they’re both throwing a fit, once one begins to calm down the other one begins to overreact which sends the other one into a fit again.

Finally Charles and I manage to bathe them, change them into their pajamas, and get them to bed.

If I’m exhausted, I don’t know how Charles feels.

I can feel his eyes on me as I anxiously fold one of Lucy’s dirty shirts.

I look up, meeting those hazel eyes that I’ve become so accustomed to seeing. Now I don’t know what I would do without them.

“So…” I start awkwardly.

He just looks so good like this. Hair messy from a long day, in just a casual T-shirt and gym shorts. It’s his dad look. The dim light from the hotel lamp casts a warm glow on him, making me want to just reach over and pull him into my arms.

Before I can even react, he takes two steps forward, hands gently placed on my biceps as he turns me towards him. He leans down and my hands reach up to grab the back of his biceps as our lips meet.

It’s an anticipated kiss, and god, was it worth the wait.

His lips are warm and comforting, like pulling on a sweatshirt straight out of the dryer. Like it’s meant to be, and although you know it can’t last forever, you’ll savor it while it’s happening.

His hands slide down to my waist and my arms wind around his neck, pulling him as close to me as I can.

It’s Ada and Lucy’s second birthday. And it’s also the day that Charles and I kissed twice- once on accident and once on purpose.

This may be one of the happiest days of my life.

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#formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 driver imagine

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footballlover8 · 1 year

Note

y/n wearing a short skirt and getting Pedro’s attention - he can’t keep his hands to himself

Short Skirt||Pedri Gonzalez

A/N: I’m so sorry this took such a long time! School just started for me again so I’ve been a little busy and I didn’t know how too begin it. I’m sorry it got a little out of theme, but I still hope you like it❤️

Requested?:Yes/No

Warnings: Suggestive content, cursing?, bad translated spanish.

Please remember that English nor Spanish is not my native language so there defines will be some typos.

"Pepi! Come here please!" Y/n yelled slightly so Pedri could come in and help her tie her top.

When he comes in he opens the door. His eyes wandered over her body, with his mouth wide open. If he had it open for a second longer he'd start drooling.

"Mi hermosa bebe...eres tan perfecta" He whispered softly as he walked over too her kissing her head.

(My beautiful baby...you're so perfect)

She blushed slightly at his compliment.

"What did you need princesa..? If I know you correctly you didn't exactly want me too rip this outfit off of you right before we're going out no..?" He teased, his finger tips moving along her exposed waist, making shivers run down her spine.

"Pepi...stoppp" She whined trying too push him away, this made a light chuckle escape his mouth.

"Okey but seriously what was it baby?" He asked her

"Can you tie my top please...?"

He didn't answer but turned her around in his arms and tied her top. He kissed her shoulder once he was done.

"There you go preciosa"

"Gracias" She bit her lip softly.

"Don't do that amor...you know it drives me crazy" pedri's thumb brushed over her bottom lip.

"Y/n! Pedri! We have too go!" Fer, pedri's older brother yelled from downstairs. They were going to a little summer get together with a few friends and teammates.

Pedri was dressed in a plain white t-shirt on top of that he wore a light blue button up shirt with all the buttons undone. He had some black loose jeans and some white basic Nike Air Force.(For reference, the picture on top)

"Fernando! Stop yelling!" Pedri yelled back.

"Now you're yelling pedrito" She giggles.

"Preciosa...you're adorable" Pedri stood there admiring her.

"STOP HAVING SEX AND COME ON!"

"FERNANDO SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

In the car Pedri refused too sit in the front with Fernando something he usually did but this was intense.

His big, strong hand never left her thigh, it didn't annoy her...in fact it kinda turned her on. The black shiny ring on his ring finger making her go feral for him.

"Do we seriously have too go too this thing...?" Pedri asked making fer roll his eyes.

"Just because you want too have sex Pedri doesn't mean we don't want to have fun in other ways" fer rolled his eyes at his younger brother.

"You don't have too be so dirty fer, who says I wanted too have sex? Like grow up" Pedri answered making both his girlfriend and his older brother look at him with a 'be Ffr' typa look.

"You're funny" Fer laughs as he parks the car and gets out.

"Can we just go home again mi amor..? You just look so irresistible" Pedri caressed her cheek making her go soft for him. She tilts her head slightly into his hand. He smiles knowing she was giving in now. He just needed a few more secon-

"Stop making out come on guys!" Gavi suddenly opened the door straddling the two mostly her as she was very easily scared.

"Gavi! She could've hit you! Or me.." Pedri yelled in annoyance

"I was expecting a 'she could've died' but that works too" Gavi shrugged.

Pedri rolled his eyes getting out of the car then helping his girlfriend out of the car.

"How's your teeth?" The blonde haired girl asked her best friend as they walked inside the house where the little party or whatever was held.

"So much better. I'm so glad it wasn't something big...the dentist just gave me some medicine and the pain stopped" Gavi says shocked

"Wow...that's amazing gavi" Pedri says enthusiastically. It was obvious that gavi was a little tipsy.

"I know right!?"

The young couple shook their head at the boy.

"He literally acts younger than you" Pedri tells her earning a slap on the arm from her.

"Y/n! pedri!" Ferran yelled happy too see his friends in his drunken state.

"Jesus why’s everyone so drunk already?" She asked Pedri.

"Should've stayed home Huh Bonita?"

"Y/n!" mikky yelled seeing her best friend

"Mikky!" She yelled back hugging the older girl

The two girls started talking but Pedri didn't leave her side at all. He stood behind her shielding her ass for anyone who tries too look at it. His hands kept moving up and down her waist.

"Mikky!" Frenkie yelled drunkily.

"I'll go take care of him you two have fun" mikky waved walking over too frenkie.

You turned in your boyfriends arms too look up at him.

"You're so touchy today"

"When am I not?" He asked furrowing his eyebrows.

"Fair enough" She shrugged.

“okey pedri! Stop being so territorial of her! We want her too!" Anna groaned trying too drag you away from him, but with the grip he had on your waist it was impossible.

"Sorry...not happening...she's mine"Pedri shook his head.

"Come on! Two minutes!" Anna complained.

"1 minute!" Pedri groaned letting go of his girlfriends waist.

She giggled and kissed his cheek before walking away with Anna and over too the small girl group.

Pedri was literally counting the seconds and as soon as he counted too 60 pedri walked over too them and picked her up and carried her away from them.

"Hey!" You yelled surprised.

"Yeah..?" Pedri asked setting you down in front of him.

" Yeah?" You mocked slapping his chest carefully, not too hurt him.

"Yeah, yeah" Pedri shushed her.

"You look gorgeous mi princesita" He kissed your head.

"Gracias pepi..." She blushed as he smirked.

"Niña! It's your song!" Taia yelled and that's when you noticed it was in fact your song...but pedri's hands on your body was a little distracting....

Taia, mikky, Anna, Katrina and Dani dragged you over too the dance floor. This obviously annoyed Pedri.

"Come on! Dance!" Anna encouraged taking her hands into her owns, trying too get her too dance. Only a second later her body moved a long too the Rhythm of the song 'beautiful liar'.

The girls had given the song title too her because she lied too everyone about her and pedri's relationship until they were caught in a heated moment....

Pedri watched her intensely, his eyes following her every movement...the ones that seconds ago was filled with love were now filled with lust and desire. He wanted her..no...he needed her, now.

"Hermano...unless you wanna get papped with whatever is going on down there I'd suggest leaving with your girl" Fernando told Pedri which made Pedri look down and blush as he saw the little problem he had going on there.

"Yeah...good idea" Pedri groaned looking at his girlfriend dancing...her tispy body looking so beautiful...so precious...

"Ninã...I think someone wants too go home" mikky smirks seeing Pedri looking at her with lust. Y/n looks over at him and giggles walking over too him slinging her arms around his neck while his went around her bottom holding her up.

"Hi.."

"Hey pretty girl..you enjoying yourself Hmm..?" Pedri asked teasingly.

"Only a little" She joked back.

Pedri laughed shaking his head

"You wanna go home Hmm...?" He asked pushing some strands of hair behind her air looking into her shiny eyes.

"Yeah.." she nodded, pedri eagerly picked her up and carried her too the car

(I guess you can guess what happens next🤭😉)

#football imagine #football x reader #football x y/n #pedri #pedri x y/n #pedri fluff #pedri imagine #pedri x reader #pedri one shot #pedri gonzalez x reader #pedri x you #pedri fanfic #pedri González x y/n #pedri González Lopez x resder #pedri González x you

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oreosmama · 8 months

Text

What's in a Virtue (Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader)---Part 3

*GIF not mine*

Summary:

Gaz wants you, but the hotel bar you work at has rules; when a bartender calls dibs, all others have to back off. It’s how the peace is kept, and as the new girl just trying to rack up some savings, you’re not willing to rock the boat.

But Gaz doesn’t take kindly to you avoiding him, and he’s never been one to beat around the bush. From confessing his love on the first night you met to shouting your name seven times from across the bar, he’s not letting you off the hook that easy. Not when he’s seen the proof that you’ve fallen just as hard for him.

A/N: mwahaha, and they said it couldn't be done. those who doubted me shall gaze upon my very first (and perhaps last) complete series! Victoryyyyy! I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 8374

Part 1 Part 2

You’re pretty sure you didn’t hear him right.

You’ve got morning-after brain, and his chest is so hot and adamant behind you, and his breath is right next to your ear. Plus, your stomach is growling with a pit only chocolate-chip pancakes and white peach oolong can fill.

And he’s doing that tracing thingy again. G. A. Then what?

R. Maybe.

And that leads you to think you might’ve just maybe heard him correctly, because why the hell is he drawing his last name on your hip so brutishly that it twinges?

“Um.” You stiffen. “What.”

Not really a question. The way you say it, it comes out more like you don’t want to know the answer even if you really did ask.

Kyle groans that long, gruff way, husked past his vocal cords and throbbing a path through your entire body. “Look, I get it.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Just let me… ah, fuck, I know it sounds ridiculous, love, but hear me out.” He moves away, giving you space to think while he leans against the counter and grips the edge, tight.

“Wait,” you hold up a hand before he can start talking again, because you need a minute. Several minutes, actually. A whole assload of minutes to comprehend the suggestion he’s just thrown at you. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you serious?”

This is probably just what Kyle’s morning-after brain is like. It makes stupid, sudden suggestions that he just blurts out on a whim with no regard for how it’ll land. In all fairness, you doubt it’s ever done him wrong before. Even in a regular headspace it’d be hard to tell him no.

Never mind that he’s shirtless, and that his broad shoulders eat up the space of three cupboards, and that his gaze is doing that thing again—that unfair thing where he towers over you but can still make you feel like he’s kneeling, dips his head so those pleading irises look up at you.

“Dead serious, love.”

There’s an air about him that’s resolute, despite it all. He’s tender but stern, decided and confident in his conclusion. He’s shedding his clothes and skin, leaving himself belly-up for you to bite.

“Kyle…”

“Too soon?” He doesn’t even look hurt. Just expectant.

You shrug helplessly. “Yes? Very too soon, don’t you think?” You spin around, fiddle with the pancake mix but don’t open it. The mug you’ve microwaved for your tea is probably cool at this point, and you try to turn that into your biggest problem of this morning.

Not the special forces sergeant who lives life at three-hundred miles an hour, exuding such a new energy in here that you can’t remember the basics. It’s the morning after, and as beautifully new as Kyle is, like the stretch of new blue jeans, he’s not threadbare enough in here yet. Too tight, sucking the air out of your own home and leaving you all prickly and sweaty and nervous.

And he wants you to move in with him? Right now? This soon?

It’s easy, when you turn your back to him and lob your hand towards the microwave handle, to pretend that your biggest problem can be amended in minutes.

Because now, despite that itchiness of Kyle’s gaze on your face, your biggest problem is that you haven’t even begun to steep your tea. That’s a huge deal. You’re supposed to do it seconds after the microwave beeps, pull the mug out and let the steam soak into the tea bag that you swing for a bit, always have to watch the foggy-air disruptions back and forth. Then you steep it, let the water grow murky for ten minutes as you cook the rest of the meal. Add sugar, an ice cube because you’re scared it’ll burn your tongue like the first time, and stir while you pour syrup on your plate.

You’re horribly set in your ways, so much so that you hate—actually hate—the newness Kyle’s thrust upon you. It took him twenty-four hours to upset everything.

Well, not everything. Just you. While you feel fresh out of the box, everything around you has been preserved in mundanity.

If you took two rights and a left from this building, you’d find a sandwich shop owned by a short man with an orange cat. If you went two floors up, you’d find a pack of graduate students; one more floor, and you’d see Mrs. Beverly and her purse dog. If you went into your living room, finagled with your window a bit, the shutters would close in a perfect angle so that the sun falls on your couch but doesn’t glare on your TV.

You know it takes you twenty-seven minutes to get to work in the morning right after you brush your teeth. It takes you fourteen minutes to walk home after you clock off. Thirty more minutes to order food and settle in, Netflix the pinnacle of your night before you nod off in a tank top with exactly three holes and short shorts you’d bought under the duress of a busted AC.

You have milk and eggs both two days away from expiration in your fridge, along with old Chinese takeout. You have books with crackled spines and ruffled pages on your bookshelf, and a muddy stain on your entryway carpet from two days after you’d bought it. A bedroom unruly and unbidden, clothes strewn everywhere.

You could envision it all, see it all because you knew it all. Have known it all for the months that this place has been your home and you’d begun working at the hotel bar. You could have the rest of your life mapped out by tomorrow if you really wanted to. It’d be safe. Predictable. Boring, in that average way you’ve always known. None of it would be moving by so fast that you wouldn’t get a break to think of the consequences.

None of it would make you feel like you’re reaching new heights by jumping off cliffs, taking big, stupid risks that wind up working all the damn time—and solely because Kyle makes them work. Because he runs seven steps ahead of you and lays out the golden carpet for you to step on, telling you it’s okay to keep pushing forward.

The phone calls, the talks, his touch and voice. All of it closing in on you, molding you into something fresh and unseen.

But that’s just it. It’s still just you who’s changed.

Not Kyle, who’s certainly been like this his whole life. Who’s used to making snap decisions that have an impact, gotten so damn used to doing that that he carries it with him now.

And it’s not Mariano or his cat Garfield, or the ham and swiss you get on Fridays. It’s not Jared and Samantha, both of whom play Mario Kart after writing another page in their theses. It’s not Mrs. Beverly and Chloe, or Jeanne, or your family or friends you haven’t texted in a while.

Only you.

You’re stripped to your marrow, neurons and fibers spilling all over the place because—oh hell—you’ve grown too big for all this. Kyle’s had you melting and flowing fast and sharp since he first showed up in your life, and you’re moving too fast to feel out that old stagnancy.

But there’s an ugliness that lives inside of you too, that hates how uncomfortable every little step forward is, even if you can’t stop taking them.

It’s exposing. You feel naked, but not in the new, comfortable way Kyle’s helped you discover by virtue of his longing. More naked like school nightmares and too-small bath towels. Naked like someone’s going to douse you in lemon juice and salt any second to watch you writhe.

“Kyle.” Your hand’s still propped on the handle. The microwave beeps again, impatient. “Last night was—God, it was amazing.” You open the door, pull out the mug despite how lukewarm it’s grown. “Best I’ve ever had, by a long shot. But…”

“But what, love? You’re scared?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and you’ve no doubt he’d watched your mind run and run circles around itself, and had had enough time to form an argument of his own. “It’s too much? A lot to ask? I think that too, love, but we’re running out of time.” He rises to his full height, and you try not to shy away at how much space he takes up when he’s grim and serious.

He’s massive, bigger when he’s panting over you, sleek hips pressing down, suppressing your twists and jolts. He’s gotten better at trapping you, too. It’s intimidating. Thrilling, in better circumstances.

You can’t think straight anymore. He smells like pine all over again, and looks it too.

“Come back with me to England. We’ve got bars—bars I can bother you at. We’ve got universities for second chances. I’ve got a flat with plenty of room, plenty of money to—”

“Kyle, please.” The whine rips from your throat, and you drag two hands over your face.

In the corner of your vision, you don’t miss the way he stiffens and swallows a bit. But then he says your name through choked sigh, and rasps, “I know it sounds fuckin’ crazy—I feel like a bloody fool saying it out loud. But I don’t want to lose this, and I can’t keep comin’ back here to start us from scratch every few months.”

You don’t know what to say to that, can’t stop bobbing your mouth open and closed, trying to find those useless words that might explain what’s holding you back.

Something like, It’s only been three months.

Yes, but Kyle knows that too. And he still wants you.

You don’t even really know him.

Sure. But what was there to learn that he wouldn’t offer you on a silver platter?

It’s going to fall apart. It always does for you. Months will pass, and he’ll realize he made a mistake. He’ll kick you to the curb, and you’ll be back to square one.

A coaxing palm cradles your cheek, and a warm thumb prods over your lower lip, both of which make you flinch out of your thoughts. Kyle tips your head up, up, up until you’re looking at him, brown irises gentle and luring.

“I can see it, you know. That cruel little brain of yours is whirring so loud it’s makin’ me nauseous.”

Your eyes fall closed, and you reach up, grapple at Kyle’s wrist, massage the tender spot at its center. “I’m sorry.”

He inhales, ragged and slow. Exhales, blowing past your flyaways. “For what, bunny?”

You continue to caress the baby-soft skin of his wrist, marveling a bit at how different it feels from his rough fingertips, from his scarred thighs, his bruised back. “I need… time. A little bit to think. Consider things.”

The last thing you wanted to do was tell him to leave. You felt like an idiot for even implying that space from him was the something you needed right now. You know the silence will swallow you whole when he’s gone.

“You want me to go?” he breathes out, and his face crumbles. Likely, he didn’t want to leave. He could barely be goaded out of your bed, and now this?

Kyle looks like he wished he hadn’t asked, hadn’t said anything. Those mournful brown eyes slip to the counter, where your mug and pancake box sit, then back to you, to your eyes and nose and lips.

Your lips. He prods at the bottom one, like he can’t help it. The caress slows to a stop when he pinches his eyes closed and tips forward, dropping his forehead to yours. “But I don’t wanna leave, love,” he mumbles. “Scared if I do, you won’t let me back.”

You don’t think you could ever keep him out. Not out of your house, and not out of your head. But your brain feels unspooled and uncollected, and all that’s left are too-sweet cotton-candy wisps that can’t quite latch onto anything.

“I…”

Don’t want you to leave either.

I want you to stay. I want to move in with you. I want every night to be like last night, and every morning to begin like ours did.

I want it all to be ours.

Your hands rise up and brush against the dips and swells of his chest. Goosebumps blossom under your touch.

“Kyle, you know this isn’t goodbye. It can’t be. I need you to tell me you understand that.”

He sighs again.

“I know, love. I know that.” His thumb wanders over the arch of your cheek. “I’m used to all this, with you. All the pullin’ away and coming back.” He chuckles bitterly, a bit breathy. “It’s just so fuckin’ hard this time ’round.”

Your chest feels like it’s split open, gaping and pouring out. But your mind, or what’s left of it, knows you need this. You need the separation from him, deserve time to think through all he’s offering, all you could barely repay him for in return.

The debt between the two of you is yawning. But if you gave in and told him yes, all you’d be left with is uncertainty.

Not even a man as perfect as Kyle can make up your mind for you.

“One more kiss before you go?”

He takes you up on it before you can say any more.

His lips are a harsh press against yours, bruising enough to leave them puffy for hours. He kisses to consume, to swallow you up and spit you out wanting more.

Gentlemanly as Kyle can be, there’s not a glimpse of it to be seen now. He’s not playing fair, at the moment.

He hooks a finger under your chin and holds you steady, keeps you close and running out of air as he slips past your defenses, the hot, wet press of his tongue on top of yours. It’s instantly dominating before you have a chance to fight.

And then he’s toying with you, kneading you back into the fray with long prods and swipes, his stubble from the morning a heady friction on your skin. He’s playing and caressing and devilishly stroking needy whimpers from you, fingers dancing along your skin, drawing circles on your skin and whines from your throat. That dangerous tongue of his performs another sweep about your mouth, then slips back. Kyle begins worrying at your bottom lip, teeth digging in so harsh and quick —

—and he tears away from you so abruptly that you gasp, can’t even see straight. Suddenly you’re cold and alone, panting and losing your balance without Kyle’s sturdy form keeping you upright.

You only realize what had happened when you hear a rustling from your bedroom. Kyle reappears seconds later, avoiding your gaze as he zips his jacket up over his bare chest, legs and hips clad in last night’s jeans.

Subconsciously, you pick at the neckline of the black cotton tee you’re wearing—his shirt, one you guess he doesn’t want back before he leaves. “You don’t want your—”

“Don’t take it off—not yet, yeah?” He meets your eyes for the first time in two minutes, and there’s little brown left to them, all dilated pupils and a consternated furrow. Even his lips, wonderfully swelled, are tugged into a small frown. “Keep it on f’me. I’ll come back for it when you’re ready.”

But you don’t know when that’ll be. How could you possibly make an unbiased decision when the damn thing still smells like him and you can’t forget that ravenous look in his eyes when he’d first found you in it?

Kyle’s hovers near the door, hand tight around the knob like he can’t quite figure out how to open it again. He glances back at you over his shoulder, lets himself take you in, take the entire scene in. He even looks back at your bedroom, where the sheets are rumpled and need to be washed. Then he settles on you one last time, jaw set, muscle feathering a bit.

“Call me. Text me. Anything, darling. But don’t you dare forget about me.”

The door closes with a slam.

~~~~~~

The first day, Gaz is sure it’s fine. You need time to think, and that’s okay. He can handle that. He’s handled it multiple times.

And, yeah, when he’d gotten back to his hotel room, he had to sit for a moment, staring at the wall. Had to replay that whole night all over again.

Then again.

He did the same thing with that morning, reimagining licking the sweat off your thighs, sliding up and burying his face into your stomach, pawing at your body wherever you’d get the loudest. Replayed the feeling of your supple palms and soft fingertips—every inch of you was so damn soft, fleshy and yielding in his hands—wandering over his cheeks, his lips, his scalp.

Fucking beautiful. Every goddamn second of it.

Gaz, that first day, tries not to linger too long on how it’d ended.

So stupid of him to bring that up. Suggest for you to move in with him when obviously you both functioned at two vastly different paces.

Isn’t it ridiculous that he can’t even bring himself to think it’s crazy? He can’t find it in him to say no, that’s bullshit, because who are you and why the hell did he ever think moving with a woman he’d only known for three months was okay—desirable, even?

So bloody desirable it almost crossed that line and became imperative.

He spends that night checking his phone, wondering if you’ll call him again, borderline tears and needy like yesterday.

That was his favorite aspect of yours so far—when you needed him, you needed him badly. You needed him while you choked back gasps and almost-sobs. You needed him while you breathed a little sigh of relief at the sight of him and jumped into his arms. You needed him with that first kiss, shy and tentative, but trying your best to imitate reckless abandon—until he taught you properly.

He’d spent that whole night watching you be shocked at yourself for how badly could want him, all confused and flushed when you’d noticed your fingers digging into the buttons of his trousers. A little stunned “o” formed on your lips when you’d dug your nails in, body trembling with exhaustion, and still begged him for more. Kyle, please. More.

Gaz only convinces himself to take a shower for the night when the thoughts become too much. He almost trips over his own feet in a mad scramble when he sees his phone flash, only to find a notification for an update.

He goes to sleep in a sour mood.

The second day goes about the same. He wakes up late in the afternoon (because, due to your midnight upset, he was still on his Middle-East sleep schedule), spends way too much time remembering and staring at his phone, waiting for a buzz or a ring. Eats his dinner and drinks in a deathly silence.

Because silence is unnerving to him now. You’ve changed that much in him. Every second spent in lonely quiet feels like a waste of his time.

But you don’t call. And you don’t text.

You don’t do any of it for the next three days.

Gaz wallows even worse. He gets antsy, goes to the hotel gym and sprints on the treadmill, because he knows if he runs outside he’ll find himself at your place. He goes to stores, buys himself another black t-shirt, same size and brand as the one that you’d worn, that’d cinched in at your waist and flared out to capture your hips and thighs.

He wanders into the bookstore next door and finds a few of the ones he’d spotted on your bedroom bookshelf whenever you’d tapped out on him. He flits through a few pages, eyes catching on the naughty words, and reads through for… wistful entertainment, at least.

Research purposes, at most.

And Gaz chuckles to himself, winking at the girls that try to wander into the section inconspicuously. The same ones who surely have as good a poker face as you, and who immediately vacate the area at the sight of an invader.

It would be more fun if it was you he was teasing. Same pink ears and face, same eyes avoiding contact at all cost, fingers fidgeting at the hems of your sleeves.

A longing ache floods his chest so directly and intensely that he has to take a second, breathe and set down the book so he can center himself again. That same flood of cognizance about his situation hits him when he’s on missions, when the victims’ sobs finally get to him or he looks too long in the eyes of a dead man.

Like he’s yanked to the surface after hours underneath the tide, and the sun shines so brightly his eyes burn. But he’s seeing and feeling everything he’d shoved deep down, knows exactly what led him to this moment.

Gaz doesn’t go out much after that.

Not the next day, or the day after that. Not even the next two days after those.

It’s around this point that he wishes you would just put him out of his fucking misery. He’s so tired of thinking of you before he goes to bed, dreaming of you, then waking up to phantom touches all over his body. He’s driving himself up the walls trying not to call you, break into your house and just steal you back to England anyway.

Patience. Son of a bitch—patience. God, you strung it out so thin with him that it could snap like a rubber band and hurt you both.

It’s midnight of the tenth day of no contact with you that Gaz’s finally got his sleep schedule under control, and he’s twisted up in the sheets, body caked with sweat.

Well, actually, he’s in Prague.

He’s rapidly approaching a target in a dusty, dark alleyway. Just before they turn the corner and get into public view—can’t let that happen, have to maintain cover—Gaz wrestles them away from the glow of the streetlamps and back behind a dumpster, kicking away their gun while he wrenches a biceps around their neck—

But it’s your voice ringing through the air. Your pleas and sobs pierce his conscious too late. Your neck snaps so loud he flinches, and all the while his mind is screaming no, no this can’t be right. She’s not the target. She’s never the target.

Gaz scrambles away, tearing off the sheets and rolling out of bed.

Jesus Christ.

He has to see you.

After that, just needs to make sure. Needs to check that you’re still in tact, your sweet neck not cracked and limp, eyes not dim and silenced.

He rises to his feet and can’t find his Goddamn socks anywhere. A yellow glow from the window lets Gaz catch himself in the mirror at the perfect moment, and he can see the thick sheen of sweat that covers his body head to toe.

You deserve better than that. Better than a sweaty, desperate man with no patience pushing his way into your house and demanding an answer, a single word, fucking anything from you.

Even a nod or a shake of your head would settle his poor heart. The damn thing aches in his chest all the time now.

Gaz slips into the bathroom for a quick, cold shower, stubs his toes against the not-wide-enough walls of the tub several times, and ambles out a bit slower and far more jittery than he’d gone in.

He’s shifting a pair of pants up his not-yet-dry legs when he spots it.

A dim flash from the hotel nightstand, where his phone is plugged in.

Gaz freezes.

Surely it’s not…

Well, it might be…

But he’d been gone for not even five bloody minutes; that’s not even fair!

Suddenly, he’s kicking off the pants and hurdling over the bed, buck-naked and scrambling for his phone.

No, no, no, no, no, no, NO.

But yes. It’s a voicemail from you. Three minutes and forty-seven seconds, and he wasn’t there for any of it.

He presses it with wide eyes and a heaving chest, and something stabs him, hard, cruel, and swift right in the center of his gut when he hears your voice.

“Wow, I’m getting deja vu.” You laugh, but it’s empty and short. “I’m really hoping you didn’t sneak off to a mission without telling me. That would, uh…” Your tone grows dreary, even as you huff another laugh. “That would really suck. But I’m sure I deserve it.”

You thought he’d leave you?

You can’t see him, and he knows that, but he still shakes his head, brow furrowed because no, no, no, he would never do that to you. Damn that evil brain of yours.

“I just… um, I just had a dream, though. Wanted to tell you about it. It wasn’t even bad so, like, I don’t even know why it woke me up.” Some shuffling, and a sniffle. “Well, I mean I do, but… okay, fine, I’ll just tell you.

“It was pretty lame. Nothing big, but I was hanging out in an apartment—a flat, you might say—which is a stupid name for an apartment, but you Brits don’t even know what chips are, so whatever. I’ll let it go.

“Anyway, I was sitting on the couch kinda bored, and then you came in. Came back, really. It’s like that background knowledge thing you get in a dream, where you only know exactly what’s going on the moment it happens? But you were back from a mission, and I had dinner and a hot bath ready, and you…”

Another sniffle. Gaz hovers over the phone, waiting for those seconds to dwindle down, needing to know how you felt when the message ended so he could call you and be…well, be whatever the fuck you needed him to be in that moment.

“I don’t know. We were about to kiss, and then I woke up and you weren’t even there and I just…hated that. The idea of that. Of you not being there when you could’ve been. And knowing that the only reason you weren’t was because I was being so stupidly stubborn.”

You sigh, then, and get too quiet for him to hear without crouching closer. “Kyle, if you still want me even at all after this, I…” You suck in a long breath, and he hears that little hitch at the back of your throat. “I need it to be slow. Slower than what it’s been. Especially if… if it’s gonna be the same apartment. I’ve never had anything like this before. Never felt it. And I’m scared of, well, all of it, honestly.

“But I’m more scared of never taking that chance with you. And you’ve been commuting to my home, my country all this time, so… you know, maybe it’s time I reciprocate. Reciprocate a lot of things.”

Then someone knocks on his door.

~~~~~~

Kyle never directly told you which hotel room he was in. But when he’d kicked his pants off and you’d watched them soar over your bedroom floor that night you’d called him over, you’d laughed into his kiss at the sight of his wallet, his key card, and some loose change rattling across the floor.

The next morning, you’d picked it all up while he was in the bathroom, where he was hopefully not glaring at the impulsive hickey you’d given him. You’d snagged his t-shirt for yourself, some womanly, possessive part of you wanting to squeeze yourself into his clothes, whether it would fit or not. You’d felt like a damn fool crammed into it—until Kyle saw you for the first time, and the look he gave you made your stomach clench.

You’d organized the rest of his things onto your dresser, only eyeing the room card, and the number sharpied on the back, passively.

Room 428.

You knocked on the door now, pulse thump-thump-thumping against your eardrums.

An “Oh fuck” was muffled and low through the door.

It didn’t sound like you’d woken Kyle up, and you admit that you’d been seriously considering the fact that he might’ve left for a mission while you were in AWOL mode. A bit of luck, really, that it was actually him, still here after ten days of radio silence.

But you’d know that gruff, British grumbling anywhere, and your body began to tremor. Small, at first, in your fingertips and toes. Then your knees felt a little loose as time went on and all you could hear from Kyle’s end was quick footsteps and the snap of fabric. By the time the door whipped open, your every breath came out stumbling, like waves over jagged rocks.

And Kyle…

Oh.

Oh, Goddamnit.

Ten days was too long for both of you.

Because Kyle, for all his effortless handsomeness, was a wreck. Untidy stubble’s laid claim to his jaw and throat, and his lips look bitten raw. Deep-seated crescents curve under each eye, lined and dark and angry. He’s draping himself against the door with the black curls on top of his head in complete disarray, and watching you with a low-lidded gaze.

Gaunt, worn, weakened. Like the life has been drained out of him.

But it’s still Kyle. There’s a phantom of his old self in his form now, a tautness to his shoulders and neck, slight bend in his knees, vigilance in his whiskey eyes. You’ll have to reel his spirit to the surface.

Looking at him now, though, it hurts to think you’re the one who’d done it to him. So damn hard to believe that he takes absences of you like shots to the heart. It’s lovely, to be so wanted by Kyle Garrick.

Harrowing, too.

There’s a learning curve to holding his tender heart in your hands and trying not to squeeze it too hard, too often, but you get the feeling you’ve been treating it like a stress ball. You forget that he keeps himself at this rough idle for you. That he always carries soft, warm feelings all the time, and lets them fester behind the velvet steel of his abdomen.

“Did you get my voicemail?”

He nods a little.

“So you heard that I…?”

Another nod.

The air is thick and straining with his silence. All he is right now is two eyes watching you and ten long fingers flexed against the door, features bordering on unreadable.

But there’s yearning. There’s always that fierce yearning with Kyle.

You lean a little closer, don’t quite know whether to be disturbed or flattered at how his nostrils flare when he suddenly sniffs.

Then he hums, low and deep.

“Peaches,” you mumble, recalling months ago, a staunch memory of his words about your perfume.

“Tha’s right, bunny,” he mutters. His fingers peel off the door before he lurches toward you, a lovely swoop in your gut when he hauls his arms around your waist, tilting his face to yours. He takes another sniff, this one nestled against the top of your scalp. “It’ll smell like peaches.”

When Kyle takes a step backward, his arms remain iron-stiff around your back, dragging you with him. Step for step for step until you’re in his hotel room, kicking his door shut with the heel of your shoe.

His hand rises and sweeps back the hair stuck to your neck, already slanting his lips over your pulse point, teething at the skin. “My flat,” he whispers. Then he scoops up your jaw, tilts your head to the other side and reattaches his mouth to the next indent in your throat. “My bedroom.” Another readjustment of your head, aligning himself just below your chin, your head tipped all the way back, blurry, blissed-out eyes locked on the ceiling. “My sheets.”

“Kyle.”

His fingertips dig in hard enough to leave purple dots against your lower back. “All of it’ll smell like peaches. Like you.”

You pry him off with a tugging grip at his damp hair, only slightly intrigued by the water droplets that you now notice litter his skin.

A bit too busy trying to think back to why you’re here, outside of getting his hot mouth all over you again, to try and care about something so minor.

There’s an indignant huff against your bobbing throat before he draws back. Kyle looks damn near put out by the fact that you hadn’t let him keep sucking distractions into your skin, and his teeth bare slightly when he grumbles, “What is it, love?”

Lest you forget Kyle first and foremost loves to grope at the plush of your thighs, he does so now, mindlessly, detrimentally to your train of thought. “There’s—there’s so much to figure out, Kyle.” Your words are more like a sputter, wild spilling past your teeth. “There’s getting my stuff there, and passports, and visas. Things that take more time than how long we’ve known each other.”

The golden gleam of his smirk almost takes you out of commission. One second he’s bitter about his mouth and the lack of your skin against it, the next he’s pulled back far enough to meet your eyes dead on, confident like he knows you inside out.

“Bunny, when you first started to walk, did you go ’round asking everyone what running felt like instead of trying it?”

You… don’t know what that means. Like at all.

And you’re fairly certain you wouldn’t be able to figure it out even if you weren’t exhausted from four-hour sleep and the wandering of calloused fingers.

“Kyle—what?”

The deep timber of his chuckle floods your ears like spools of silk. It’d almost be mean if it wasn’t the same playful laugh he used to give you from across the counter, one hand on a drink, the other reaching for yours, and if he hadn’t done it with little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“I just mean…” he pauses and strokes at your thighs a little slower, “that all of this has felt so bloody natural. Like I’m made to be doing this. Like I’m learnin’ how to walk all over again. And you…” One hand departs, rises and encompasses your cheek, thumb swiping over its swell. Kyle’s features soften. “Love, you make me want to run so badly.”

Your hands fist against his chest, but you know he can still feel the quivering that’s begun. That slowly showers over your body, tip of your skull down to the bottoms of your feet, electrifying and frightening.

You say his name again, startled at how much you want him.

He’s not wrong. Not even close. Being with him is like warm sweaters, or old socks, or scuffed shoes. Things that always just fit.

But it’s new, these butterflies frenzied in your stomach, this chain reaction of shivers and sparks of pleasure and licks of sweet heat.

New, and timeless. Confusing, and so damn easy.

“I’ve got connections, love. And so much time for you. All the time in the goddamn world.” His hips press into yours, and once more, he begins to sway.

And, once more, you follow suit.

“And there’s bars aplenty in England, love,” Kyle whispers the words against your forehead. “If that kickin’ little mind o’ yours feels like it has to repay me—pain in my arse, but I’d let you do it. Even though I wouldn’t mind it if you could just sit in my apartment and look real pretty. That’s always on the table for you.”

“Definitely off the table, Kyle.”

“All right, all right, fine.” He peppers kisses over your face. “So long as you’re there each time I walk through that door, yeah?”

~~~~~~

Gaz can smell it from the hallway.

The heavy scent of chocolate and those pretty candles you love to light, along with a lingering hint of peach. The door to his flat towers, ominous and contingent, like if he doesn’t open it now, any second it’ll slip away and he’ll be back on the field, gunsmoke thick in his eyes and throat.

Coming home is always a little hard.

He’s unwinding vertebra by vertebra, trying to fracture himself into small enough pieces to fit through the door. And there’s the crotchety stiffness of his limbs, too long for these halls, too sturdy for a scene soft as this.

Gaz shoots for quiet and hits dead silence when he twists the knob. Slips through the doorway and takes in this little fault he’s discovered in reality, phenomenon he’s kept under wraps for the past year or so.

Because entering the pocket dimension of his flat is nothing short of ascendant. Every damn time.

The air in here is velvety smooth and warm. Not unbearably, for July—it almost feels like the warmth of a sweaty palm still interlaced with his, making his body all syrupy slow. The lights have been dimmed and everything in view from the doorway is more shadow than actual features. London, like the determined sadist it is, is gray and drizzly outside each of his wide-open windows, helping none with his search.

That is something he’d had to bargain for—open windows. Gaz doesn’t mind the subpar reward any creeper might receive peeking into his home, but you weren’t as convinced. The task to win you over had become almost insurmountable when he’d grown too greedy in the living room and you, with eyes only barely comprehensive over his shoulder, locked gazes with an elderly woman across the way and screeched.

But he’d won, and it seemed you honored your promise now.

Speaking of you, he doesn’t even spot you the first look-around. Even as his nerves meld into the sleek familiarity, panic splices through his gut when he glances once, twice, then thrice around. You’re not running toward him like he desperately wishes you would. You’re not hovering over the kitchen stove, or digging through the fridge. You’re not even curled up in the window seat, sipping on a steaming mug.

Gaz knows he was quiet, but he didn’t know he was too quiet.

It becomes increasingly obvious that you’d had plans to greet him.

Because not only is his favorite meal still sitting over the burner, and the kitchen’s covered in dirty dishes, but you’re lounging on the couch, plush thighs crossed one over the other with a book in hand, clad in fantastically sparse lingerie of frilly black lace that leaves meager gaps for his memories to fill in.

With a stuttering breath, he fills the gaps in tight.

Your lazy fingers scrape at the corner of a page, then you flip it with a bored sigh, shifting a little by hooking your heel over the top of a sofa cushion, splitting your legs wide so he can see—

His pack drops to the floor with a thunderclap of noise.

Your body jerks all at once, a quick shriek splitting the viscid atmosphere in half.

Your wide, prey eyes latch onto his while you grapple at your chest, book having been launched halfway across the carpet. “Kyle, you son of a—could you have been any quieter? What the hell?!”

He barks out a laugh. The potency of your voice saying his name is already swimming through his mind, and he reaches back and closes the door while you rise to your feet. “Sorry, love. Next time I’ll just crawl through the window, yeah?”

“Fuckin’ may as well have,” you grumble, adjusting the stringy straps of your bra. Your skin is all blank and pale right now from months of his absence, white space where amaranthine marks should be.

Four months. The longest the two of you have been apart, and every step you come closer that heady scent of your perfume prickles its way up his spine.

“My sweet little bunny, precious love of my life—what have you been up to, hmm?”

Your hands slot on your hips, and you pout up at him. The build-up of energy crackles all over his skin the longer you stand so far away from him, but you’ve still settled for a lecture instead of a kiss. “Well, I had this whole plan where I’d feed you and bathe you, and then we’d fuck like rabbits, but I guess that’s out of the question now.”

Gaz snickers, the abject disappointment raw on your face. “How is that out of the question?”

“Timing’s off and you ruined the whole sexy vibe I was aiming for.” You fold your arms, and Gaz shamelessly drags his gaze down from your face. “You really suck, you know that?”

His lips part in that effortless grin you so easily drag out of him. “So sorry, love. If you come over here, I’ll be sure to apologize quite thoroughly.” Gaz lifts his arms, holds them out and gestures his fingers enticingly. “I’ll have your forgiveness in a matter of seconds.”

Your expression’s all stubborn and prickly, but you sway forward a little anyway. “I…” You grunt and stomp toward him, let him wind his entire body around you, and relax a little when his palms massage and dig into your shoulder blades. “I really did have everything planned,” you mumble into his chest, fingertips all twisted up in the back of his shirt.

Gaz is starting to get an idea about what’s going on.

Only about half the candles are lit throughout the flat, the majority of which are near the bedroom. The bathroom light is still on, door opened a crack, but there’s unpacked bath bombs strewn about like you gave up halfway through. Even the kitchen is more messy than usual after the nights that you cook. Only half the pots and pans look actually used, the rest an anxious jumble of utensils and ingredients he knows you didn’t need to make chocolate-chip pancakes alone.

It looks like you were distracted. So very terribly disturbed by something that you could only commit half a mind to all your ideas.

With him, you’re rarely left to your own devices for this long, and it shows.

Gaz can see it, feel it, and practically smell it all over you. Despite his embrace and what should be relief about his return, the muscle and tissue all over your body are pulled taut, bowstring-tight and ready to pitch forward at any second.

He hums, feels the tension in your spine only grow as he draws little circles against your skin. “I know, love. I see it. Candles, and the dinner, and the bath.” He kisses your forehead, grins wider when all you do is huff and puff. “Did so well. I know it’s hard.”

It only serves to wind you up more. “I’m supposed to be the one massaging and calming you. Feeding you and taking care of you after your mission. This is…” you hiss a curse, nails scraping at his waist now.

“S’okay. I’ve been through this hundreds of times.” His fingers dance a little lower, teasing that arch in your back that you curve a little harder against him. “I know exactly what you need, bunny. Sort you out so you can get back to your plan, yeah? Just need you to let me take care of it.”

“I don’t…” you shake your head. “I don’t know why I just—I mean, all of the sudden it’s you, and I can’t—”

You fall silent so fast when he shushes you, presses a too-short kiss to your lips. Already, he can feel the verve traveling through your very bones. He lets his words brush along your lips when he repeats his promise.

“Know jus’ what you need. Let me handle it.”

~~~~~~

You’re straddling his thighs with a fork in hand, watching in a satisfied stupor as the plate balanced on his chest rises and falls at a rapid pace.

Sticky, flushed, and sated all over, you saw off another sliver of pancake and hold it up to Kyle’s lips. He accepts it greedily, lets his head knock back against the headboard with a euphoric, close-lipped smile.

He hadn’t been… wrong.

Which is to say, you’d somehow managed to get yourself so worked up in his absence that the second he returned, all you’d wanted to do was jump his bones, sans any of the prelude you’d planned.

A warning would have been nice, now that you think about it. Anytime around four months earlier when he’d first begun preparing you for his absence without you even knowing it, would have been superb.

Instead, he’d let it fester in you, like he’d planted himself a gift, fruit ripe for the plucking at a later date.

You want to be mad.

Can’t quite bring yourself to, though.

A bit too… preoccupied.

There’s still sweat dripping at Kyle’s temples when he cleans off the plate, hands still squeezing in distracting patterns around the meat of your thighs.

“Fucking delicious, love.” He laves his tongue at the corner of his lips. “My two favorite meals.”

“You’re horrible.” You scramble off him unsteadily, trying to keep both you and the dishes in your hands balanced. “I should get a bar of soap for that mouth of yours.”

Kyle laughs first, then groans, swiping his hands down his face. “If you’d said that shit in the barracks, love…” he calls after you, tutting in the distance while you deposit the plate in the sink. You almost trip on your skimpy lingerie set from a couple hours ago while stumbling your way back to the bedroom.

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” You raise a brow at him even as you tug on his arm, drag him out of the bed and down the hall.

After it all, Kyle had insisted you keep up the plan. Didn’t want that guilty conscience of yours to fester and, even worse, those pancakes to grow cold. He’d poked at your cheek, voice slurring a little from exhaustion as he whispered, “Gotta stay awake, love, or your li’l rabbit heart’ll feel all sad tomorrow.”

So you’d rolled off the mattress and made the trek back through the apartment, and, admittedly, you started to feel guilty about the mess you’d left during your hazy planning earlier.

You recalled trying to think of ways you could impress Kyle but not being able to think clearly after slipping on the lacy panties; too caught in imagining how he’d tear them off to really notice how half-baked the rest of your plan was.

And how all you could think about was him serving you, which really wasn’t fair. It’d been over a year since you’d started living together, and when he went off on missions, it was an unspoken promise on your end that you’d welcome him back in calm and comfortable ways.

His first few missions had been just that—romantic kisses and big, sweeping arcs of hugs; slow dances around the living room and the kitchen, sweet, bubbly champagne with dinner.

All you’d managed this time around was half-assed pancakes, lacy panties, and a cold bath that you hadn’t been patient enough to finish prepping.

You remember that you hadn’t even been exhausted today. The opposite, really. You’d been buzzing from head to toe the moment you got his call, mind too frantic to ever really stick to your old habits.

Kyle kneels down beside you outside of the tub, three bath bombs encompassed in just one of his absurdly large hands. The other is curling your hair around a single index finger. He’s patiently busying himself by touching you, playing with some part of your body or other like he’s always done.

One morning he’d had an absurd obsession with your left heel, and he’d nipped at the tendon out of sheer curiosity.

You’d almost kicked him square in the face.

But he gets new little obsessions with you all the time. Each day, he’s poking and investigating at a different part of your body, and he always—always—has to feel it against his teeth.

And you let him. Even now, as he hinges his jaw around your shoulder.

A true adventurer, unafraid to explore with all that he is. Wants to discover every little thing in a million different ways.

You lean forward and wrench the faucet off, then pat at Kyle’s cheek. “Bath bombs, please.”

When he thunks them in the water, the air in the room floods with lavender and chamomile. The tub’s still fizzing purple when he clambers in and hauls you in after him, slowing your descent into his lap just enough that only a bit of water dumps over the edge.

A long, drawn out sigh ruffles the loose hairs atop your scalp. Kyle’s hands sweep all the way up to the underside of your breasts, then way back down to the middle of your thighs, back and forth, back and forth. For the most part, you try not to move, try to let the aches melt away with the heat.

You drop your head back into the crook of Kyle’s neck and shoulder, tipping your face a bit to look at him.

Everything’s fuzzy. Pleasant. Legs and arms weighed down by gratification, gut slick with sated heat. And your heart thumps wild and proud, bum-rushed red and gold. Natural and gleaming. Normal and perfect.

“Can we stay like this forever?” Kyle asks again, a lifetime later. You’re only one year wiser when you nod yes, of course, how else would we be?

He burrows you deeper against him, trying to meld your skin into his because it’ll never be close enough. Touching and bruising and biting only mollifies it, this wonderful new appetite only Kyle can feed.

It’s crumbs of food, or the tiniest sips of water.

Or spare oxygen.

Kyle hunches over you, hard body slipping against yours. Soughs, like you hit just the spot.

“Can’t believe you kept gettin’ away from me before all this. Tested my patience so bloody much to get here, bunny.”

You smile, tilting your head and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. “It’s your best virtue, Kyle.”

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #cod gaz #gaz cod #gaz garrick

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rollinouttahere · 1 year

Text

Purpose

Yandere Strawhats x Isekai Reader

1.8k words

This is a fic based off of @lovelybrooke ‘s One Piece Isekai Reader fics. This is just my take on what would happen if the reader joined the crew earlier. Also, even though this says strawhats x reader, it’s almost entirely just Robin.

It’s official, you never want to be in a desert ever again for the rest of your life after everything you’ve been through. First you spend days trudging through the country of Alabasta in the unbearable heat, and then what happens when you finally reach Rainbase??? Marines are immediately on all your asses. Not even a minute of rest.

You’re coughing and gasping for breath as you vault yourself over some barrels in an alleyway, but manage to quiet down long enough for the marines that were tailing you to run by. As you sit on the ground trying to get your breathing under control, you realize something.

You’re all alone.

Wait, what? No. How could that happen? You were just with Zoro- Oh wait. Yeah nevermind that checks out. If there’s anyone who would get separated from you while on the run it would be him. You groan and pinch the bridge of your nose as you try and figure out what to do now. Wracking your brain, you try to remember where everyone is supposed to be right now.

It’s been awhile since you watched the Alabasta arc, but if you’re remembering correctly, Luffy, Usopp, Nami, Zoro, and Vivi either are or are about to be trapped by Crocodile. That leaves you with Chopper and Sanji, but how the hell are you supposed to find them in all this chaos. Can’t exactly go running around yelling for them, not with all the marines and baroque works agents combing the area. Maybe if you could find a change of clothes and something to obscure your face it would be safer?

“My, my, I’m surprised to see you all alone like this.”

An admittedly embarrassing yelp erupts out of you. You scramble to get up and away, but numerous arms spring out of the ground and walls around you, stopping you dead in your tracks. The arms spin you around and you see Nico Robin casually sitting on one of the barrels you were using to hide.

You want to ask what she wants with you, but all your words are lodged in your throat. The last time you saw her was right after leaving Whiskey Peak, and she was every bit as intimidating now as she was back then. Sure, she would eventually go on to join the strawhats, but until that happened, she was not someone to let your guard down around.

Your silence only seemed to amuse her, “Why so quiet, (y/n)? Cat got your tongue?” Robin gracefully walked towards you, eyes not leaving your form for a second. Her hand, a real one this time, gripped your chin. She tilted your head in several directions, looking at you as if you were some mildly intriguing puzzle.

Not liking the way she was looking at you at all, you ripped your face out of her hand and tried to give her the meanest stare you could manage. Letting her know just how scared you were right now probably wouldn’t be the best idea.”Wh-What do you want?” Oh dammit, you just had to stutter didn’t you?

Robin laughed at your attempt to look tough, clearly not convinced in the slightest. She dismissed some of her arms so she could pace around you, only keeping the ones holding your legs to the ground. She obviously didn’t find you threatening enough to concern herself with restricting your arms.

She took her sweet time answering your question, you were almost startled when she did speak up again.

“I don’t want much from you, I’m just trying to sate my curiosity.” What curiosity? Was she hoping to get some information about the Strawhats out of you? Robin continued. “I wonder, can you tell me what exactly your role on that ship is? There’s a captain, a swordsman, a navigator, a sniper, a cook, and now even a doctor, but what,” she stopped in front of your face, “is your purpose?”

You tried to lean back to put some distance between you two, but she didn’t let you do that. Her hand returned to your chin with a much firmer grip this time, “Well? Come now, don’t keep me waiting.”

“I’m… I uh…” Robin’s question caught you a bit off guard. It stung a bit too if you were being completely honest. You didn’t need her to tell you that you were dead weight to the Strawhats. Afterall, all you had done was wake up on their ship just as they were heading for the Grand Line, and they just so happened to take pity on you and not throw you off. They were so generous to you, and for what? A little help around the ship and someone to play games with? Please. “I don’t have a purpose. I’m just a stowaway, I guess.”

The smile Robin was sporting before drooped ever so slightly from your answer, her grip loosened too, but you didn’t care enough to pull away this time. She hummed, “I would say your role exceeds that of a stowaway at this point, they’re all far too fond of you for that to be it.”

Her response confused you. How would she know how they feel about you? She’s only ever seen you with them very briefly, a few minutes at most when she appeared on the Going Merry a while back. Surely she couldn’t have gleaned much from that. Unless…. “Have… Have you been spying on us?”

She giggled at your question, “Are you really that surprised? Your crew made an enemy of my boss, of course I’ve been keeping tabs on you all. Though I’ll admit, you have piqued my interest more than I expected you would. You’re interesting, and there aren’t many things that I consider to be all that interesting.”

The rumbling noise of footsteps headed your way caught Robin’s attention, her expression hardened instantly. In a split second, more hands sprouted from the ground and pulled you down. Before you could make a noise, another hand clamped itself over your mouth. Robin turned her back to you and headed towards the entrance of the alleyway just as a group of baroque works agents approached.

“Miss All Sunday! What are you doing here?”

“Since when were any of you in a position to question me?” Her voice was harsh, a cold contrast to the warmer, playful voice she had spoken to you in. The agents were quick to realize their mistake and were frantically trying to backpedal out of what was just said. Robin huffed, “I’m here to make sure the Princess doesn’t slip away. I’ve already gone through this area and no one of interest is here, go look somewhere else.”

They didn’t need to be told twice and took off without ever having noticed you. All you could do was look up at her with a baffled expression. Wouldn’t Robin want to bring you to Crocodile, too? Sure, it’s not like you were any real threat, but it didn’t make sense to just let you go either. Maybe she had her own plans for you?

Robin turned back to you with an unreadable expression, studying you for a moment. With a sigh, she waved her hand and all the arms holding you down disappeared. Every single one. “I’m afraid I have more pressing matters to concern myself with right now,” she offered her hand to you, pulling you to your feet when you accepted it. “But… I’ll see to it that we meet again.”

With that, she spun on her heels and began walking away. You just stood there dumbly, not really sure what to make of this whole interaction. Why would she up and spare you like this? Why is she being so nice to you?

“Oh, and I think I know what your role is,” Robin looked over her shoulder at you. The look on her face was bizarrely soft, but there was a hint of something darker lurking just beneath the surface. It sent a chill down your spine and rooted you to the spot. “You’re their treasure.”

What? “Their- Their treasure???” You don’t know what you expected to hear, but it certainly wasn’t that.

Robin giggled at your blatant confusion, “Every pirate needs treasure, yes? You’re theirs, and I must admit, I can see the appeal.” Not even giving you the chance to respond to that confession, she left.

Just when you thought that this world and the people in it couldn’t get anymore confusing, she hits you with that. It made no sense, she doesn’t know you. This was the first time she’d had a conversation with you, and yet she just gave you the same strange look the Strawhats keep giving you.

Now that you were thinking about it, even Ace was acting weird when he was still traveling with you guys. He was constantly in your personal space (though admittedly, you weren’t exactly complaining about it), and kept trying to convince you to join the Whitebeard pirates. He only stopped because Luffy was getting genuinely upset about it. After that, he only asked one more time, whispering the offer in your ear as he hugged you goodbye.

What the hell is going on?

“Wahhh, (y/n)!” You’re ripped from your thoughts by a much smaller form running up to you and attaching itself to your leg. “I got separated from everyone else when the marines showed up, I’m so glad I found you!” Chopper sounded like he was about to cry from the stress of the current situation. He looked around quickly, “Wait, where is everyone else? Don’t tell me you’re alone, too!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “Sorry Chopper, I’m afraid I am. Zoro got lost when we were running away.” You pat his hat, trying to reassure him. “How about we go and look for the others now that we’re together?” By others, you meant Sanji, but you weren’t supposed to know that so you’re just gonna keep that part to yourself.

“Okay, that sounds like a good idea. Are you alright, though? You didn’t get hurt while you were on your own, right?” The doctor in him came out as he gave you a onceover to look for any possible injuries. “Did something happen? You look awfully pale!”

“Oh- Um, no, nothing happened. I’m just a bit tired after running for so long, that’s it!” You forced out a laugh and hoped it didn’t sound as fake as it felt. Chopper didn’t need to know about your interaction with Robin, it would just stress him out. “Come on, Chopper, let’s get going.”

He didn’t look like he completely believed you, but he didn’t call you out on it either. Probably eager to get more people with you, wanting to have more safety in numbers. As you two slipped out of the alley, grateful to have no enemies in sight, your mind couldn’t help but go back to wondering what was going on with all the characters here.

It was so strange. If you didn’t know any better you would think they’re all obsessed with you.

#yandere one piece #one piece x reader #nico robin x reader #yandere nico robin #tony tony chopper #one piece isekai reader #lovelybrooke

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cursingtoji · 1 year

Text

“You’re late” a 12 year old Megumi states jogging in your direction after spotting you and his dad.

“Yeah thanks to your highness over here” Toji nudges you.

“Sorry baby,” you kiss Megumi on the cheek “I miss-placed my wedding ring when I was gardening and took me half an hour to find it.”

“Couldn’t you come without it?”

“That’s what I told your father” you give Toji a ‘see?’ look.

“Absolutely not, especially not here” your husband place his hand possessively around your waist.

“What does tha— never mind, I’m taking you guys to my classroom” Megumi leads the way.

On this day his school was holding an event for parents and family to visit and see some of the work the kids have been doing giving the parents an opportunity to speak to the teachers and discuss their children performance.

So obnoxious Toji thinks, it’s all an attempt to raise money anyways, the kids are young and are not doing anything super risky so this was basically a PTA meeting.

“Honey?” you call Toji that replies with a low hum “Since we are here, what do you think about checking Mai and Maki? You know, see if they need anything” you suggest knowing the twins don’t have an easy time around their family.

“You know where your cousins might be, kid?” he asks Megumi that points across the fields, “Will you be okay?” Toji asks, since you’re not a sorcerer he gets tense about bringing you to such places considering his own past against the jujutsu world.

“Of course, ‘Gumi will stay with me” you rub your kid’s back.

Megumi takes you to a classroom where a couple of parents are sitting and a tall white haired man leans on a desk answering questions.

“That’s Gojo-sensei.”

“Figured” you heard about Megumi’s teacher from him and also Toji, “I thought he was younger, your dad always call him six eye brat” you whisper to Megumi.

“He calls everyone kid and brat, mom” you giggle along Megumi.

His sensei says goodbye to the last couple and welcomes you.

“Ah the Fushiguro matriarch!” he stands hovering over you, “You came by yourself?”

“Hello, Mr. Gojo, thanks for taking care of my boy” you ruffle Megumi’s hair and he rolls his eyes, “My husband is checking on something, so I guess it’s only the three of us for now.”

Gojo smiles and proceeds to go through a bit of what Megumi had been working on the past months and how he progressed. You listen carefully and Megumi is actually surprised about how maturely Gojo is leading this conversation.

After a few minutes you spot Maki crossing the hallway.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” you ask Gojo and he nods as you raise and run to catch Maki.

“Sorry, my mom worries about them” Megumi justifies.

Gojo raisers one side of his blindfold to peek at you delicately running through the hallway to meet Maki.

“Megumi, let me ask something” he says seriously, “Can your dad still fight?”

Megumi blinks twice wondering if he heard the question correctly then follows his sensei’s gaze to his mother who is now holding Maki’s face looking for any signs of mistreatment.

For a second Megumi considers saying yes just so his sensei leaves his mother alone, but after a second he thinks both Gojo and his dad could use some beating.

“Find out for yourself.”

“Got a text from Megumi’s sensei” you say hopping on the bed later that night.

“The six eye brat?”

“Yeah, he insisted for me to have his number in case of an emergency.”

“Let me see it” Toji asks and you handle him your phone.

It was a pleasure to meet you Ms. Fushiguro, I hope our paths cross again.

— Satoru.

Ms. Fushiguro? Toji side-eyes the ring at your left hand that hasn’t come out since he helped you find it that morning. Maybe he should get you a bigger one. Or maybe he should have a talk with six eye brat.

#jjk x reader #little something that has been on my mind

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fanficsforheartandsoul · 2 years

Text

New Recruit | Simon Riley x Masked!GN!Reader

To keep this as neutral as possible since anon did not specify the gender, this is written in 2nd POV.

There are some spanish sentences here and although I’m actually learning the language with Duolingo (lmao) I used a translator for this, I apologize if it sounds clunky. I googled how to use gender neutral forms but I’m not sure if I did it correctly sooo.

Also, this is very short because I can’t for the love of god, produce words and a correct sentence in my head at the moment.

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Warnings: Ghost is OOC, Ghost might have a kink or more than one, Typical COD Pew Pew is Mostly Omitted, Injuries

Summary: A new member joins taskforce 141 for the hunt of Hassan but you are not what the others expect. Something sparks in Ghost when he shares eye contact with you and you two are on the same eye level.

Word Count: 2,3k

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

It was already unusual for the taskforce to get a new member. Therefore it was even more unusual to get one in the middle of an important operation in another country.

It wasn't exactly convenient but when would it ever be?

Fact was that Hassan Zyani, a major of the terror organization Al Qatala escaped their grasps.

They needed to work with Mexican Special Forces to follow his tracks, so if it was one more member or two, it didn’t really matter now.

Yet it was quite a surprise when Ghost and Soap heard the news.

"Someone will join you in México, a new member of the taskforce. I wanted to introduce the lieutenant a bit later, but Chryso was in the country anyways, so I guess now is as good as ever."

Ghost listened silently to his captain on speaker phone while Soap asked the questions lingering in his head; what kind of muppet name was Chryso? And why would the soldier join them right now when they had something so important to do?

Trusting a stranger in a hostile environment wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do.

Price ignored Soap’s words deliberately and continued:

“Chryso is already known to the Los Vaqueros and Alejandro and as you're aware they know their way around in Las Almas. Be nice and protect your backs. We will talk later and I’m sure Chryso will answer any questions you have.”

Great, Ghost thought and looked at the flabbergasted Soap who stared at the phone display showing the end of the call.

“He just hung up?? What the hell... I feel like someone just told me my sister got married in secret and I have to meet her husband.”

He raised an eyebrow but the other obviously couldn’t see it behind his skull mask.

“You have a sister?”

Soap blinked.

“No, but if I had one...”

Ghost sighed. He hoped that the new addition to the team wouldn’t mess up their operation and would focus on the task at hand. Catching Hassan.

You startled out of your sleep when you heard your call sign.

“They’re arriving in 5, Chryso” said Felipe, the Los Vaqueros soldier who was on the look out with you in one of the abandoned shacks close to the village where intel suggested Hassan Zyani’s location.

Your last undercover mission had taken a toll on your body and you tried to make up for it by napping whenever you could. Felipe’s humming had made you drowsy and apparently your consciousness had slipped away for a bit.

A quick glance at your combat watch proved that you had slept more than an hour and you sat up straight quickly.

“Perdón, you know my last OP still got me fucked up... Did anything move?”

“No pasa nada.”

The man waved his hand dismissively and watched as you stood up and stretched your arms. He had to tilt his head slightly to look up to you. Felipe's eyes wandered over your mask and then he said:

“They’re staying put and keeping quiet.”

You breathed out and rolled your shoulder. Maybe you shouldn’t have slept in such an uncomfortable position...

You were about to meet two members of Taskforce 141 - your new team - and group up with them and the Los Vaqueros to participate in one of their missions. No chit-chat and icebreakers, just business, straight-up.

This was how work had always been with Captain John Price for the few times you had fought together, so it didn’t exactly bother you. But it was making you a bit antsy that he wouldn’t be part of the operation.

You weren’t exactly keen on entrusting your back to total strangers. Not with your... special circumstances.

Your habit of wearing a mask 24/7 often confused other people and many soldiers had treated you slightly differently due to it. Whether it was done deliberately or subconsciously, it often hampered with the beginning of your new relationships until people finally got used to it. Which usually took a while. Seen by the lack of other soldiers accompanying you and Felipe.

Strangely Price didn’t seem to react much to your mask. Maybe that was why you felt comfortable around him. He didn’t treat you any different, he had just looked at it once and then moved on.

You hadn’t told him why you were wearing it but if anyone had to know, you would probably feel most comfortable telling him.

And when you had signed the contract to work as a new member of taskforce 141 you had mulled about doing it. Possibly when you would first see him again. You had believed that it would be today.

But he wouldn’t be part of this mission, which he told you 2 days ago. Instead Lieutenant Simon Riley and Sergeant John Mactavish would cover your back.

You had heard their names before when Price talked to you about joining the taskforce but you didn’t know anything specific about them besides their names and ranks.

And Rodolfo and Alejandro didn’t let anything slip when you asked them if they knew anything about the two soldiers.

They did know more than you but based on the little smirk around Alejandro’s lips they purposely kept information from you, which annoyed you slightly.

But well, Alejandro was a colonel, furthermore the leader of Los Vaqueros and he obviously had to be informed about his allies in such a special operation.

You knew not to question him and he wouldn’t keep anything dangerous from you, he wasn’t like that that’s what you could tell based on the few days you had spent at the Las Almas base. He kept his soldiers safe, had to in the corruption-filled town.

And you would meet the other taskforce members soon anyways.

So you decided to focus on the task at hand and ignore everything else. Whether that would involve strange looks and stupid comments about your mask or not.

The Al Qatala terrorist had to be caught by all means. The files you had received told you enough about the threat he posed to basically everyone in this world. He wouldn’t escape your grasp. Not under your watch.

You strapped your black vest tighter and checked your gear.

A low hum announced the distant approach of some vehicles and Felipe looked out the window to see 3 black jeeps drive down the dirt road.

“They’re inbound.”

You nodded and followed him out of the room down the stairs.

"I have a feeling you'll fit right in, just like Y/N."

Ghost was still mulling over the strange comment of Rodolfo Parra, when they spotted the army checkpoint and Alejandro explained why they had to evade it and he forgot the words quickly.

However, when their convoy arrived at the other side of the river in their AO, he and Soap exited the truck and a few seconds later when he first exchanged eye contact with you, he remembered the words instantly.

You had just moved out of the shack, following a Los Vaqueros soldier. Your back was turned towards the convoy when the man told you something and he gesticulated while you checked your back pockets.

Ghost noted that the soldier talking to you was at least a head smaller than you. You were clad in back and his interest peaked when he realized that your head was covered by a hood. Oh...?

He followed Soap behind Alejandro and Rodolfo and walked up to you while the other Los Vaqueros soldiers readied their guns and spread out.

“No me gusta el hecho de que no tengamos refuerzos” he heard you say through your clenched teeth and your counterpart hummed in agreement.

Alejandro coughed and you turned to face them while he introduced you to him and Soap. Your eyes roamed over them and they lingered a bit longer on him, which made Ghost’s heart beat quicker for some reason.

“This is lieutenant Y/N L/N”, the colonel announced and the smirk on his lips suddenly made sense. He just stared and Soap did the same.

“Just call me Chryso” you said and gave Alejandro an annoyed look that the other ignored and you turned your head back to look at Ghost and you stretched out your hand.

Ghost’s voice was rougher than usual when he told you his name:

“...Simon Riley, but call me Ghost.”

He shook your hand with a firm grip. Hazel and e/c eyes met, both hidden in the shadows of a mask. He caught a glimpse of your spirit in the e/c shade and noted that the skin around your eyes was also hidden behind black makeup.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.”

Fuck, he thought when he realized that he could gaze directly into your eyes without lifting or lowering his head.

And bloody fucking hell, he thought when he realized that in a very strange way he found that mask of yours attractive. Like you were mirroring him, like you two belonged together, like you were meant to be his and he was meant to be yours.

There were not many things that Ghost found immediately attractive upon meeting someone.

He considered himself to be more of a “character”-person than someone who cared about appearances first but there were some things that just drew him in...

Pretty smiles for example. Or the hint of a strong character in one’s eyes. But what really invited his immediate attraction was what Soap had called the most surprising and strangest thing ever when he accidentally spilt this piece of information during one of their long scouting sessions; when someone was just as tall as him.

There was just something about someone being his height that created a spark in his chest.

“That’s a fucking kink” Soap had said back then. Looking at you now and considering the growing feeling in his chest, the scot might have been right.

He let go of your hand before he was holding onto it for too long but he kept his eyes on you even when you had already turned towards Soap to shake his hand.

“Sergeant John Mactavish, but call me Soap.”

The sergeant shook your hand enthusiastically and grinned from ear to ear. He glanced at him and Ghost’s alarm went off in his head.

“You have pretty long legs eh? How tall exactly are you?”

You blinked and Ghost couldn’t stop himself from groaning inwardly when he saw slight confusion and annoyance in your eyes.

“Roughly 6′3 if I remember correctly.”

Soap looked at him but Ghost ignored the stare deliberately and when Alejandro told them to follow him, you immediately turned away from them and hurried to fall into the colonel’s and Rodolfo’s step.

“Oh dios, lo dijo.” Rodolfo said and laughed and Ghost cursed himself for not learning more Spanish on the way here when you groaned. He was about 99% sure this was about your interaction just now.

"¿Dijo que?" Alejandro asked, his voice now lower as they moved closer to the houses, weapons raised.

"Una de las tres cosas que Y/N odia a que le pregunte.¿’Por qué Chryso como apodo’? ¿’Por qué llevas una máscara’? y ¿’Qué tan alte eres’?”

Rodolfo muttered and while the colonel laughed quietly you only sighed.

Ghost didn’t understand what exactly was going on but based on the mocking tone Rodolfo used for his last few words, it was probably something bad. He also mentioned your call sign and he was smart enough to know that the conversation was most likely about them.

As much as it bothered him, they had already reached the stone wall so he turned his attention to the mission at hand.

“Where’s Hassan?” he asked.

“White two-story building at the back”, Alejandro replied and two seconds later they entered the gate and he didn’t have time anymore to think about your height, nor your skull mask that seemed to compliment his own and the fact that your utility straps nicely showed off your thighs.

But all these thoughts and much more rushed through his mind after he had helped you out of the river.

It had already been hard for him to breathe with his mask but your experience with yours had been much worse, the cloth wasn’t exactly made for missions involved with water and you - in your words “almost got waterboarded back there”.

Added to the harsh landing in the river and the bullet graze on your left arm, you weren’t exactly feeling your best and you felt exhausted for a moment, so much so that you had to drag your limbs out of the water when it was your turn.

The soldier in front of you turned around and you looked up at him from your cowering position where you had temporarily bandaged your wound.

Ghost offered you his hand and you took it.

“Thanks” you huffed and he pulled you up with more force than necessary which messed with your balance and made you take a step forward.

He could see a waterdroplet on the tip of your eyelashes and his heart stuttered when he noticed how close you two suddenly were. Your loud breathing made his ears tingle and he took a step back, though not letting go of your hand.

“You good, Chryso?”, he asked, ignoring his imagination where you were panting for a different reason. Jesus Christ, you were injured. And he hadn’t even seen your face yet.

You nodded and he let go of your, pointing at your left arm.

“I’ll bandage your arm in the car, that wrap is a sad excuse of first aid.”

You huffed in annoyance but he saw how your eyes turned into slight halfmoons again, showing him that you were actually smiling.

“Whatever, lieutenant.”

You walked past him, waving your hand in dismissal and he followed you, a small grin on his lips, definitely not sneaking a glance at that ass in those wet black cargo pants.

“I’m really curious... What kind of muppet name is Chryso?”

Alejandro snorted. “Y dale.”

You sighed beside Ghost while he secured the re-wrapped bandage. Soap looked at you through the front mirror.

“We had this guy in my unit, Turner, he was a huge biology nerd. When he first met me, he just said ‘Chrysocyon brachyurus’ which is the scientific name for the maned wolf in South America.”

Soap tilted his head in confusion when Alejandro laughed. “Okay...?”

The colonel tapped the steering wheel. “They have really long legs, hermano. Really long.”

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