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saturnscode · 1 year

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PART 3: The Wedding

It’s not even 9 p.m. and Kim’s already drunk.

The dinner started two hours ago and the music in the background is still slow. Tonight is supposed to be a family gathering with good talk and tasty wine. And it’s been successful, for most of it, with the laughs and the sound of the silverware hitting the plates and chairs being pulled and pushed. People move from one side of the table to the other.

Everyone seems to be having a good time, they are all shaking with excitement, walking on their toes as if they do anything wrong tonight it could affect the wedding tomorrow somehow. They are all happy, except for the pop star with the long face at the end of the long table holding what seems to be his tenth drink of the night. He’s been quiet and gloomy, so no one dares to even come close to him, no one but Kinn.

He takes the glass from his hand and drinks it in one go.

“You’ve had enough,” he says, gently.

“Huh,” Kim scoffs.

The day passed by in a blink but this night seems to grow longer and longer. Kim can’t feel the time passing and even when everything is ready for tomorrow, the hall and the main entrance have already been arranged and decorated. The food is supposed to arrive early in the morning with the staff and Kimhan is supposed to sing at the reception. As a gift for his beloved brother who can’t even let him finish his drink.

How is he supposed to live a lifetiedto Chay withoutbeingwith him?

“I told him everything, but it was too late,” Kim says after a while, seeing his brother won’t be leaving his side anytime soon.

Kinn nods, he probably already knows, Porsche probably wants to kill him again. It was pretty obvious when Chay came back with puffy eyes and swallow lips when Kimhan didn’t come back at all.

His brother lets out a sigh and gets closer to him, Kimhan looks at his hands. He feels empty and small.

“I shouldn’t be saying this, but if I was in your place,” Kim looks up, expecting, “I wouldn’t let Porsche go.”

He laughs. Of course not, Kinn gets to marry the love of his life while Kim just lost his.

“Look,” Kinn says and Kimhan follows with his eyes to the place he’s pointing.

Porschay is standing in one of the corners of the room. Macau is talking to him but he’s not paying attention, he’s looking in their direction but the moment his eyes meet with Kim’s, he turns his head to Macau, giving him a smile and participating in the conversation.

“He’s worried,” Kinn says softly. Kim nods, he can see it in his eyes and the way his lips slightly part. “Because he loves you.”

“He doesn’t want to love me, though.” Kim shrugs.

“He doesn’t want to love the man that hurt him.” He looks at his older brother, tilting his head to the side, trying to understand, he smiles fondly like he’s talking to a kid, “give him someone worthy of his love, Kim.”

Only then does Kinn stand up, fixing his shirt into his linen pants, looking for his husband to be in a quick sweep of the room, smiling when he finally finds him laughing with his arms over Tankhun's and Arm's shoulders. He looks happy and content and that makes Kinn smile.

“Now stop drinking, if you ruin my wedding I’ll kick your ass so hard you won’t be able to stand on a stage ever again.” He pats his shoulders and leaves him there.

Kim is dressed and ready at 7 a.m.

The wedding starts in less than an hour and everyone is losing their shit. Porsche’s friends are going up and down the stairs, Time and Tay keep yelling at each other and Tankhun seems to have lost something. So, Kimhan has decided to hide in the kitchen until they’re called to the main entrance.

“P´Kim?”

He turns around immediately, worrying to have finally lost his mind and starting to hear things. But no, Chay is standing right in front of him wearing his white pants and white shirt with the cream blazer and a pretty necklace. He looks soft and it hurts not being able to touch him.

“Yes, Chay?” he answers giving him the best smile he can put together at the moment and Chay seems to recognize the effort because he smiles back.

“There’s a favor I want to ask,” Porchay bites his lips and Kim looks away.

“Anything you want,” he nods, it doesn’t really matter what he asks, Kimhan would give it to him, and he would do anything.

“Ehm,” he laughs, moving around trying to avoid Kim’s gaze. “I want to sing for Hia, so I was wondering if you can play the piano for me.”

When Chay looks up, he looks exactly like the day they met. After the fights and screams exchanged between Kinn and Porsche, the moment Kim barged into the grand salon at their house in Bangkok after hearing that someone came claiming a place in the family business and the board because the old man included them in his will. It was the same look on Chay’s face the first time they saw each other. Curiosity and intrigue.

But this time, something else was here. Something other than familiarity, it was the certainty that Kim couldn’t say no.

Give up his spot at the reception to sing the first dance to him? He doesn’t even need to think about it.

“You got it,” Kim smiles. “What do you want to sing?”

“The first song I wrote for Hia?”

The song Kim took and brought to America. The song he changed the lyrics to achieve success. The song that was everywhere two and a half years ago.

He nods then. Porchay smiles once again before disappearing into the hallway.

Kim can count with his fingers the times he has seen Kinn cry.

The first one was when their mother died. Kim was really young but he remembers entering his brother’s room and seeing him standing in front of his window, quickly composing himself when he got aware of Kim’s presence. He cleaned his eyes and walked straight out, telling him they were already late for the funeral.

The second time was when he first killed someone. A lifetime ago. He puked and screamed and broke windows and mirrors. It was all rage and regret. He hated himself and one ever talked about it.

The last time he saw Kinn cry was when Porsche broke up with him four years ago. He saw him get drunk and beg, he had to carry him home and call Porchay asking for help.

But this was the first time seeing his brother cry with a smile on his face, holding his now husband’s face as he saysI do, and softly kisses him. Kim looks away biting off the smile on his face when he catches Porchay’s face at the other side of the aisle. He has teary eyes and rosy cheeks, he claps and cries with everyone else so Kimhan claps too and laughs when TanKhun hugs him hard enough to lift him up from his feet.

Kimhan sits up in front of the piano. Outside the sun gets ready to set and the room is warm. Everyone has already eaten and they are all sitting at their tables looking at the stage, waiting for the couple for their first dance as they walk to the center of the dance floor.

“Around five years ago I asked someone to write a song about the person they loved the most,” he smiles at the mic when he sees Chay nervously positioning behind the wall holding a microphone in his hands, trying to regularize his breathing. “I promised Kinn I would sing for him and Porsche but I brought someone better.”

Kim starts playing the song he knows too well keeping his eyes on his brother and his brother-in-law to catch the moment they see Chay stepping in, singing words no one but Kim has heard before and Porsche has frozen next to Kinn, his mouth slightly open as his brother sings to him after so long.

And he cries. Kinn does too and he holds him close, balancing each other, not caring to dance, just standing there looking at Porchay sing his heart out.

Kimhan is proud and it hurts him to be the reason Chay gave up on this when he is a natural. He feels like a thief, so it surprises him when Chay turns to him, expecting him to join him and it takes him a couple of seconds to him react but when he does he sings Chay’s words, and he remembers the day he first heard him sing, how nervous he was and how young they were.

They didn’t have any idea what would happen, they didn’t know they would love each other more than they could ever love someone, they didn’t know they would break and suffer and regret. But right now, somewhere deep down Kimhan’s heart a spark of something warm flams in the middle of his chest.

It feels like hope.

Chay steps out to get some air. Inside, the room is hot and he has lost his jacket at some point tonight. He can’t seem to stop smiling, today feels like a dream, like a fairytale where his brother finally gets his happy ending and Porchay has felt like crying since he woke up so it doesn’t surprise him when he feels tears coming down his cheeks, he laughs it off.

And even when he fell asleep crying for very different reasons, his heartbreak feels so far away tonight, as if he can have a break to be happy.

“Can I have this dance?”

Porchay feels a warm breath on his neck and jumps, turning around to see Kim smiling at him holding all the stars in his eyes. Chay clears his throat.

“Are you drunk, phi?” he asks, stepping back, but Kim smiles shaking his head and holding his hand up for Porchay to take.

“I only drank the champagne at the toast.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

But he’s looking at his extended hand and everything in his body is telling him to take it. Tonight is a good night.

“It’s just a dance, Chay. The music is so loud when can hear it all the way here.”

And it’s true, not only the music but the laughs and the screams too. Porchay can’t stop smiling. It’s just a dance.

So he does, he takes Kimhan’s hand and gets the air pulled out of his lungs when Kim pulls him so hard that their chests collided. He hums and rests his chin on Chay’s cheek, holding his hands and his waist in one swift move.

“The girl that you saw me with at the coffee shop is an actress,” he explains whispering so close to his ear it gives him goosebumps, Porchay holds his breath. “We have a movie coming out in two months so we have to get photographed together, it’s all a PR thing.”

“That’s none of my business, P’Kim.” Porchay whispers back and maybe he is a bit drunk by the way he feels his head getting lighter.

“Mmhm,” Kim mumbles, his lips touching Chay’s cheek, feeling him smile on his skin. “Just wanted you to know.”

“I thought we talked about this, phi.” He says but he can’t seem to pull him away.

“I know and I take it back.”

“What?” he pulls apart then because even when he doesn’t want him back, he doesn’t want to be hurt tonight.

Kim smiles and caresses his cheek looking at Chay like he holds the entire world on his lips.

“That burnout, tainted love, I’ll take it back and I’ll give you a new one,”

Porchay has never seen him like this. So certain and hopeful. He opens his mouth but he doesn’t get to say anything, Kimhan puts his finger over his lips and shakes his head.

“You’ll see, Chay, we’ll be so happy.”

And maybe it’s the night. Maybe is his brother’s wedding and the way he has felt nothing but love the entire day that he finds himself nodding, so mesmerized by Kim’s eyes that he accepts his kiss. Just a peck of lips, nothing more than a promise.

They would act as if nothing happened tomorrow. Porchay won’t wait but he won’t escape either. He will do whatever it takes to get his own happy ending.

#kimchay #kimchay fanfic #kimchay au #kimchay fic #kim theerapanyakul #porchay kittisawasd #my writing

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buckyseddie · 2 years

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little crush

pairings — draco malfoy x fem!granger!hufflepuff!reader

summary — in which, draco finds out about her crush on him and confronts her.

word count — 1.7k.

warnings — hints of anxiety, panic attacks, and harassment/bullying, harsh/toxic!ron, angst, fluff.

notes — i really wanted to make an imagine about draco, because he’s my ultimate fav hp male character <3. and honestly, let’s be honest, he deserved way better, and he really did deserve a redemption arc. and i’m still forever bitter that he didn’t get that redemption arc. we don’t stan j.k. r*wling in this house. PERIOD. gif and divider creds to owner!

p.s, feedback is very much encouraged and appreciated <3.

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IT WOULD’VE BEEN LIKE ANY other day — normal.

if [y/n]’s twin didn’t race over to her and pull her into the potions’ classroom and tell her that everyone knows about her secret.

“what the bloody hell do you mean, ‘mione? are you sure you didn’t just mishear the conversation?” she asks anxiously, brows knitted together.

“yes, for the millionth time, i did not mishear the rumor! everyone’s talking about your crush on draco. i don’t know how people found out, but everyone’s talking about you.” hermione exclaims to her sister as people start to pile inside the classroom.

“no freaking way! this is not happening…” [y/n] trails off, her heart beating extremely fast in worry.

all she can think of now, is what is she going to do? her nonexistent reputation is completely ruined!

hermione simply stands there, waiting for her sister to collect her thoughts and accept what has happened.

but, like that’d happen with her. not once has [y/n] granger ever stayed calm and accepted anything for what it is.

“you know what? this doesn’t change anything! i just need to get through this class and i’ll be just fine.” [y/n] states completely in denial, shaking her head.

sighing, hermione takes her seat beside her sister, not sure how any of this is going to work out for [y/n].

and for the first few minutes, [y/n] actually starts to believe that everything will be okay.

that is until draco malfoy walks in and his undeniably gorgeous, piercing grey eyes meet hers.

when he smirks, that’s it for her; all her denial and self-confidence crumbles away.

“oh, god. i can’t do this. what am i going to do?” she whispers, her voice breaking as the tears start to build up.

hermione notices this as [y/n]’s breaths start to get shaky.

“hey. you’re going to be fine, okay? everything is going to be just fine. i know you’re scared, but i’m here. i’m not going anywhere and i’m going to help you through this — every step of the way. just try and focus on me and do your best to slow your breathing.” she tells her, grabbing her hand and squeezing it in order to comfort her panicking sister.

sighing, [y/n] focuses on her sister as she tries to slow down her breathing.

it doesn’t work right away, but after focusing for awhile — only on her breathing — it eventually goes back to normal.

throughout [y/n]’s panicking, both sisters hadn’t even realized that class had already begun.

before [y/n] can thank her sister for helping, professor snape interrupts, “ladies, is there something more important than my lesson that you’d like to share with the class?” he asks sternly, glaring at both sisters.

“n—no. i’m sorry, sir. nothing is more important than your lesson.” hermione excuses as snape rolls his eyes and turns back around to continue on with his lecture.

after awhile — other than the constant judging eyes and constant dramatic whisperings — things seem to calm down a little.

at least until draco does the expected; he turns towards the granger girls’ direction and sends a flying origami note straight into [y/n]’s hands when snape isn’t paying attention.

[y/n]’s heart pounds at a fast pace as she slowly and shakingly opens the note.

her heart drops and tears blind her eyesight at the words written in draco’s writing.

i heard you’ve got a little crush on me. how flattering that is, darling.

before she can think, [y/n] balls the paper up and tosses it to hermione.

she stands up abruptly, stealing everyone’s attention.

without another thought, she grabs her things and races out of the room.

once she makes it into her dorm room, she slams the door shut and falls down to the ground, the tears finally falling as the sobs leave her tense body.

minutes later, after all the sobs and cries are out of her system, she gets up and sets her things on her bed.

she wipes away the smudged, dry tears as best as she can.

then, she walks down to the great hall, just in time for lunch.

instead of sitting with her housemates, [y/n] sits down with her friends, who look up at her with worry — all except for ron.

“please, don’t ask about me.” she states as hermione opens her mouth to say something, but then clamps it shut.

“aren’t you going to eat some food?” harry asks in concern when he sees her simply fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

“not hungry.” she mutters uncomfortably.

“okay. i know i said i wouldn’t say anything, but this is ludicrous! she’s acting like she didn’t know this was going to happen. she’s to blame for all this bloody drama! she knows what kind of a bloke malfoy is. what did she think was going to happen? he’d accept her for who she is?” ron exclaims, clearly frustrated and not caring about his friend’s feelings.

“ronald! what the hell!” hermione exclaims, scowling at the red head.

“what’s wrong with you?” harry asks, glaring at his friend.

“no, guys. he’s right. i mean, i — of all people — should’ve saw it coming. he’s not a good guy? okay, i get it! but, even if it hurts that he doesn’t care about me at all, what actually matters is that one of my best friends cares more about being right than supporting his friend through hard times. so, thank you so much, ron, for your honesty and showing me what really matters.” [y/n] states, her voice nearly breaking.

without another word, she turns around and hurriedly rushes out of the great hall, not even noticing all the eyes on her — every single hogwarts house saw the entire exchange between ron and [y/n].

including draco, who watches her with confusion and another unknown emotion.

once she exits the great hall, [y/n] finally lets the waterworks leave her body and rushes to her favorite place where she goes to when she needs to think or be alone.

it’s an abandoned corridor that barely anyone enters anymore.

she sits herself down on the ledge by the window and holds her knees up to her chest as she lets her head fall, the sobs escaping and the tears falling freely.

“i thought i’d find you here.” hermione says from behind her.

[y/n] looks up to see her sister standing in front of her, arms crossed with draco stood behind her.

“uh, what are you two doing here?” she asks in a raspy tone, wiping her tears away as if they were never there.

“well, i wanted to check up on you, so i left the great hall. and this git wanted to as well, so i said that i’d bring him here.” she explains as [y/n] sighs, refusing to look the slytherin boy in the eyes.

“and now that i see that for sure you haven’t set yourself on fire, i’m going to head back. i’ll talk to you later, [y/n/n], okay?” hermione says as [y/n] nods.

“you two should talk,” she tells her sister, before turning to draco, “i know it seems like she wants nothing to do with you. but, i promise it’s just her self-defense mechanism. she likes to act like she wants nothing to do with you when she’s really just hurt.” she explains to him as she turns to walk out of the corridor.

“so, you wanted to check on me? why?” [y/n] finally asks, turning to actually look up at him.

“yeah. i wanted to make sure you were okay since my note and what weasley said to you seemed to really upset you.” he admits, walking to sit beside her on the ledge.

“it’s whatever. honestly, draco, you don’t need to try to make me feel better just because you feel bad for not caring about me the way i do about you.” she states, trying to hold in the tears as she moves over for him, so her legs lay over the edge of the ledge.

“but… that’s the thing. i do think of you like that. that note i gave you, i was trying to make you smile because it was kind of obvious people were giving you a hard time.” he states, looking over at her intensely.

“draco, please. don’t try to make me feel better about this, okay? i get it. it sucks when you find out someone likes you, but you don’t feel the same. so, naturally, you do anything you can… to help take away some of the pain. i know you don’t like me because you’re the invincible slytherin prince. and i’m the plain and simple, shy, naive girl that no one cares about. don’t lie to my face to make me feel better. just be honest.” she sighs as more tears fall down her already red cheeks.

“i’m not lying about this. but if you want the entire truth… fine,” he sighs, inhaling sharply, “i do feel that way about you. i’ve always felt this way. at first, i thought the whole quiet girl thing was cute. but then, i saw how your friends treated you. they treated you like you were fragile. so, i started to watch you more closely whenever you were around me. i learnt that you’re the kind and loyal and genuine and selfless and caring and loving and happy type of girl that everyone takes advantage of. you like to portray yourself as happy and positive so no one worries about you, or so no one ever knows the pain you’ve endured. you light up a room just by your smile. people get inspired by you because of who you are. and after i started to realize these things about you, i didn’t just admire you. i started to fall in love with these parts of you until i realized how you make me feel. i just never told you any of this because i was scared you couldn’t love such a damaged bloke like me.” he says, leaving her completely speechless.

“w—what?” she asks, utterly surprised.

“do i need to spell it out for you?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

her eyebrows furrow in confusion as he cups her cheeks.

he pulls her towards him as their lips meet.

the kiss is full of urgency and passion and desperation — a kiss that both teenagers have been waiting for, for so long.

“so, just to make it clear, you do have romantic feelings for me?” she asks, giggling at his smile.

“should i make it clear again?” draco asks with a smirk.

“yes, please.” [y/n] giggles.

and with that, he closes the gap between them once more.

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

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Robby NSFW Alphabet

not my gif

A: Aftercare

Robby’s aftercare is ON POINT. He’s a huge cuddler and loves to have the chance to take care of someone who really appreciates it and takes care of him in return. He will get a soft, damp cloth and clean you off before pulling you onto his chest and wrapping you both up in tons of blankets. He likes to pet your hair while you fall asleep, and hold you so that no one can hurt you while you’re in such a vulnerable state. He knows, realistically, that no one is gonna jump out of the closet and attack you, but it makes him feel needed.

B: Body Part

His favorite body part of yours is your hands. He loves holding them up next to his and comparing, he loves holding your hand, and he loves when your hand is wrapped around his cock while y’all are in private. He can’t help but look at your left hand and picture a pretty ring on that finger, imagining the beautiful future he wants to have with you. His favorite body part of his is his butt. The boy works out, and he knows how much you like it. He honestly never noticed his butt before, whether it was nice or not, until you started pointing it out, and now he walks around in leggings just to get your attention!

C: Cum

He likes to cum in your mouth. Blowjobs make him feel like he’s in heaven, and when you swallow, it makes Robby feel like you’re accepting him and worshipping him like no one ever has before. He also likes to finish inside you (wrap it up) because of how intimate it is. Not part of the prompt, but he loves to make you sit on his face and cum all over his mouth, dirty boy.

D: Dirty Secret

Robby has always wanted to try more public sex. The thought of getting caught riles him to no end, and he gets so turned on by the idea of holding his hand over your mouth in a janitor’s closet so people walking past don’t hear your moans. If you wanted to try it, y’all would start small, like your backyard, and work your way up, but if you weren;t into it, that’s fine with him too.

E: Experience

He’s decently experienced. Robby had a one night stand or two before he met Mr. Larusso, when he hung out with those hooligans, but it never meant anything. With you, it’s his first time doing it with feelings involved, and he was blown away by how much better it was that way. He was experienced enough to not bust in T-2 minutes, but he still had a lot to learn about taking his time and making sure you both enjoyed it. With the other girls, it was always about doing it to impress his friends so he never thought much about how it felt, for him or her. You have to teach him that porn isn’t realistic, and that it takes time to feel good. He’s a fast learner though.

F: Favorite Position

He loves a good 69, lying down or standing ;) bc he’s strong like that. He also likes taking you from behind while he holds you up against him by your neck, and his other hand playing with your nipples or clit. Add a mirror, and you have the hottest sex either of you had ever had.

G: Goofy

He can be goofy during foreplay or aftercare, but Robby likes to keep it more intimate and serious during actual sex. He wants you to know that he takes you seriously, and thinks that you guys are goofy all the time, so he wants sex to be loving and heartfelt. Drunk sex can be goofy, but most of the time, he keeps it mature.

H: Hair

He will shave it off every once in a while and let it get stubbly for a couple weeks, then shave again. Robby HATES ingrown hairs, so he doesn’t like to shave every day, but he thinks just trimming makes it look sloppy. He settles for shaving every couple weeks. He literally doesn’t even notice when you don’t shave, so obviously he doesn’t care about that. Like he’s so caught up in the moment that you could put a little blue wig down there and he wouldn’t notice.

I: Intimacy

So growing up, Robby never really had people that cared a lot about him. Because of this, he lives for intimate moments. Just you guys lying on his bed playing with each other’s hair makes him swoon. He’s a romantic guy, and would definitely go all out with flower petals, candles, champagne, and bubble baths if it were a special occasion. He wants you to know that he loves you, and wants to make sure you know how much he loves you. 10/10 romance.

J: Jack off

He did it a lot before he met you, but now he prefers you. He really doesn’t feel the need to jack off because you guys are together so often. If he starts thinking about you in the shower or something, maybe he would, but he’d rather just text you to come over.

K: Kink

So Robby is a switch. When he’s feeling more dominant, he loves to spank you with his hands, a paddle, or his karate belt. He gets off on the fact that you trust him so much to hold your pleasure and pain in his hands. He would never go too far, but he loves how wet you get after a light spanking. When Robby is more sub, he likes when you boss him around. Telling him how exactly to pleasure you, pulling his face further into your core. Making him get on his knees and watch as you pleasured yourself. He worships you.

L: Location

At first, a bed. But after you guys have sex on a beach at night one time, he realizes that he wants to try tons of different locations. Just the possibilities of how he can position you, someone catching you, or someone hearing how good he makes you feel, really gets him going. His favorite so far was in an empty stairwell at a fancy resort that Sam invited you both to.

M: Motivation

So like Hawk and Miguel, Robby is a teenage boy! He’s horny all day, every day. He loves seeing you in workout clothes, seeing other guys hit on you and then shrink away when they realize you’re his, teaching you karate, and watching you put your hair up. It reminds him of… certain things.

N: No

He would never ever let someone else join you guys. Male, female, or other, he hates the idea of someone putting their hands on you in that way, and knows you would feel the same about him. Robby thinks you guys have such a perfect chemistry going, so why would you want to ruin that with another person? It would just be awkward and clumsy, and Robby does NOT like to share.

O: Oral

So like I said earlier, he thinks porn is accurate when y’all first start having sex. He would go down on you for like 30 seconds, barely using any pressure or suction, and would then be confused as to why you weren’t finishing. He sat you down one day and talked to you about it, because he was scared you just weren’t attracted to him or something. When you told him that you needed more than what he was doing, he made you teach him right then and there. He spent a good hour and a half going down on you, making you tell him what was good and what wasn’t, learning how to actually give GOOD head, and now he’s pretty much an expert. He takes his time and takes cues from you. You were amazing at head right off the bat, and he’s such a simp for you when you’re between his legs.

P: Pace

It honestly varies depending on the day and what mood you guys are in. He’s a switch in all respects, so he can be slow and loving, or fast and rough, or a mix of the two. He also loves when you start on top and set the pace, and then he will flip you guys over when you get tired and finish you both off.

Q: Quickie

He likes a good quickie in those moments when you guys are out and get turned on all of a sudden. Robby likes to take you somewhere a little more private and get you both off, before resuming what you guys were doing and acting like nothing happened. You’ve seen him shake the hand of someone with the same hand that was buried in you 3 minutes before, acting like nothing was out of sorts at all.

R: Risk

He will try new things if you want to, but is honestly pretty content with how you guys fuck right now. His philosophy is “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” But he’s more than willing to try whatever you want to try. Robby can’t say no to his girl. Sometimes, you guys just sit there and watch porn together, and will see something that looks like fun, so you decide to try it.

S: Stamina

So I feel redundant for saying this on Miguel and Hawk’s too, but he’s a teenage boy! He can’t go for more than 12 minutes at first. He could go like 5 times in a row, but didn’t last very long. Now, he’s way better. He can last for a solid 30 to 40 minutes if he really wants to, but normally you’re satisfied before that and he can let himself finish.

T: Toy

Robby loves to try toys on you. When you first told him that you had a vibrator, he immediately asked if he could use it on you. He’s fascinated with how different toys do different things, and he loves studying the difference in your reactions depending on what he’s using. He doesn’t really like toys being used on him though. He thinks it feels weird and he'd rather have your mouth or hand.

U: Unfair

Robby can be a really bad tease if he’s in the right mood. He would hover his mouth over your pussy, letting you shake and cry before he touches you. He would finger you and bring you right up to the edge, before pulling his hand away and laughing as you almost sob. He likes knowing he has the power to make you writhe like that.

V: Volume

He’s pretty quiet, to be honest. You had to tell him specifically that you wanted him to be louder in the bedroom. Once you did that, he started to let loose a little bit more, but still isn’t super loud. He would rather listen to you scream his name ;)

W: Wild Card

He loves shower sex. Too many times have you guys both cum, only for him to carry you into the shower to clean off and eventually start round 2. The water, the soap, the nakedness, he’s a sucker for it. There’s no clean up involved, and he even gets a bathtub mat so you guys don’t slip and hurt yourselves.

X: X-Ray

I said it before and I’ll say it again! Size! Does! Not! Matter! The g-spot is 3 INCHES IN so if he’s hitting it right it’s fine!!! But Robby is probably a solid 6 inches.

Y: Yearning

Teenage boy! He could go at the drop of a hat. Robby wants you all the time, he just holds back until you want to as well. Which is also often, I mean look at him!

Z: Zzz

He doesn’t really like to fall asleep right after in case you need something. He makes sure he’s available to get you whatever you need: a snack, water, another blanket, a kiss. Robby also likes to hold you while you sleep, because it makes him feel like he’s doing his duty as your boyfriend and protecting you.

#cobra kai #robby keene #tanner buchanan #hawk #eli moskowitz #miguel diaz #karate kid #robby x reader #robby imagine #robby smut

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justimagaine · 2 years

Text

“Melancholy” Series Part 9 - / Should I run or stay? Chris Evans

Part 1 - “Oh, fuck them” ; Part 2 - “I’m here” ; Part 3 - “Just Try” ; Part 4 - “I Support You” ; Part 5 - “I Need Help” ; Part 6 - “I Can’t” ‘ Part 7 - Back to Square One ; Part 8 - Where Am I?

Time seems to stop when you need it to seed up the most. Every breath takes for ever to come to your body and every thought seems so God damn heavy. When you need help you start to fear if what you’ re doing is the right thing. Are you sure it’s right to ask for help? Are they going to judge you? I’m stupid for thinking they care right? So many questions that make you rethink everything.

You had been running for your problems for too long. All of it had to come crashing into you at some point. So when you thought it was time to run away once again from what you really wanted to do, life gave you no choice but to stay put and face what was going on.

A car drove up to the house, your heartbeat went up, and the world slowed down well shit.

“(Y/N)?” your name always sounded beautiful coming form him, with that beautiful Bostonian accent. “Sweetheart are you okay?” his voice was laced with panic. He had never seen you at his house without an invite. Even when he had told you many times you could show up at any day, any hour.

Chris ran up to you immediately placing his hands around your neck, looking over you, worry filing his eyes, He scanned you, trying to see if you were physically hurt. When seeing you weren’t he relaxed a bit but not fully still not knowing if you were really fine. He saw you were having trouble breathing, and that resulted in you not being able to speak. So he led you inside

“Come with me Sweetie. it’s okay. i got you” he didn’t even have to say it, for you to know it. You felt it every time you were around him. No matter what mood you were in. No matter how many emotional breakdowns you had in front of him, Chris never pushed you away, made you feel bad about being in your emotions. He encoruge4d you to feel your emotions and to let them out. To let them out to him.

After leading you inside and calming Dodger down after seeing you. Chris sat you down on the couch while he sat down on the table to see you better.

“Talk to me.” he said brushing hair off your face “You’re safe. Please, sweetheart talk to me” he said while holding your face in his hands. You couldn’t help to just burst into tears. So many emotions were in you and all of them were coming out. You were like a volcano, spitting emotions left and right.

For a long time you felt as if the world was against you. Nothing went your way. Every emotion, that wasn’t being happy, was pushed down because people had told you could only be happy otherwise you wouldn't find anyone. You had to smile and fake happy because no one will like you. Worst of all when someone very close to you, like your own mother, makes you feel bad about your emotions, makes you rethink thongs. It makes you think that she knows best. Because she’s supposed to have your best interest in heart. So it’s very hard to get out of an mind set of “hide all the pain”.

“(Y/N)” your name was said in soft whisper, while your mind was clouded when memories of people telling you to keep you emotions in, to not ruin someone's day with your pain “ hey” Chris said softly, slowly moving his hand from your neck to your cheek, gaining your attentions.

“I’m sorry’” you said in barely a whisper, but he heard it

“ Don’t be. It’s okay.” he smiled at you softly “ I’m glad you’re here. I’ll help you just tell me what you need” Chris then started to name everything you could possibly need: blankets, comfort foods, drinks, movies. everything you could think off he named it, making our heart ache even more, He knew you so well. When he was finished naming thing you shook your head “ No?” he askes still holding your head in his warm hands. Making you safer then you had felt in days “ What do you need? tell me. I’ll give you anything. I will. Just tell me” Chris started to sound worried. He would bring down the mood for you of that helped you, if that made you crack a smile.

You looked down at the carpeted floor and prayed he would hate you.

“ I’m sorry Chris” you started, but didn’t look up as more fear filled your body “You have no idea how much you’ve helped me. How you’ve save my life more times, then I can count. And I swear I tried, I really tried but I just couldn't” Chris’ s own body filled with fear and pure panic as you spoke. He was ready to spring into action after what you ever had to say, but it wasn't the worst he had imagined. “ I need you more then you can imagine.” you continued without looking up “you’ve been so kind to me, something I hadn’t felt in along time and I just could help myself. I’ m sorry” tears started to run down your cheeks. Tears Chris cleaned off your cheeks as he keep holding you in his hands. Id did feel as if he was afraid to let you go. As if, if he let go you’d vanish, turn to dust. See he better held on to you, then lose you and let you slip thought his fingers. You took a breath, said “ I’m in love with you” let the breath out, stood up, making his hands fall off your face and walked to the door. You couldn’t look back. All your brain let you imagine was him being upset, even discussed by the simple thought of you liking him, let alone loving him. So you didn’t look back or even listen how his breathing had changed after hearing you confession. You’re plan was to say it, let it off your chest, then run and move on, hoping it would help.

You had already reached the door, heart aching, brain running wild, panic attack on the horizon. When a pair of strong arms had turned you around and strong yet soft pair of lips crashed into yours trembling ones, making every troubles and pain go away. All sadness you had ever felt melted away, making you sigh in happiness and content. Without thinking you moved your hands into his soft hairs pulling him closer, while he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you even closer humming in pleasure. Not a single centimeter was seen between you two, as you melted into one, One person that had been running after each other while still keeping a distance. As your lips moved in sync you felt lighter and happier.

Nothing felt more at home then being in his arms, and feeling his lips on your open. “I love you too, baby” Chris whispered against your lips, still holding you as close as possible. as if he was afraid, if he let go the moment would be gone.

Slowly opening your eyes you started fears doubts creep their way up to your brain. So when you looked in to his bright, beautiful eyes, you felt like running and not making his life a mess, just like your life was. But the grip he had on you and the smile on his amazingly soft, plump lips made you want to stay. So you ah fight your own mind and body as if in a slow motion.

Do you run away and not look back and just feel amazing to have had a moment like that with him? or Do you stay and fight your own inner demons with him by your side letting him see how dark it could get?

Or maybe it could get better from now on?

—

Tag: @chris-butt ; @denisemarieangelina ; @jennmurawski13 ; @chriscaprogers ; @raabrakha ; @captainchrisstan ; @katiew1973 ; @emilyisreallyfunny12

#Chris Evans x reader #X reader #Chris Evans imagine #Imagine Chris evans #Story #Andy Barber x reader #Chris Evans story #story

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mbluee · 3 years

Text

Red - Thirteen x Reader

for @whumptober2021

No. 3 - STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT…

Taunting | Insults | “Who did this to you?”

Word Count: 4,715

Warnings: blood, lots of blood, injury, near-death(ish), abandonment, so much whump, exhaustion, choking, bit of possessiveness...eek

Summary: The Doctor makes the mistake of leaving you alone, and now she must face the consequences - and so must you. Red is an awful color.

A/N: surprise! i’m doing pieces of whumptober and told no one! yes i do have a schedule!! hahahaa. hahaha. ha. you all know i can’t resist a “who did this to you?’ feat. a pretty blonde time lord. on that note, read it and weep. xoxo

✩✩✩✩

The floor below you is red, and what a pretty shade it is. Deep, glistening, red. Wine stained, rose colored. Red.

Wet, warm.

In a puddle of it beneath you, a puddle of red. How funny. A puddle of a color? Hot, fresh, new. Odd. Pretty, out of context.

Your hands are covered in it, like a paintbrush had been brought across your palms, drawn onto each knuckle. You could see the lines and creases in your skin, each dimple covered in that color. Red. Pools of it in your hands, on your clothes. Oh, not your clothes. What an awful day to wear white. Now it was red, red, all of it, red. Overwhelmingly red.

Surrounding you, red.

Beneath you, red.

The people on the floor are red. They were breathing, once, you think. Not people. Bodies.

Bloody bodies, in pools of blood, beside you, now red.

She said she was coming.

You can’t breathe very well, too caught up in the smell. No one told you blood smells.

Did she leave you behind?

Your feet are entirely numb – they only feel wet. You aren’t wearing shoes, you don’t think; Your socks are drenched. Soaked. White turned red – oh, they’re pink. Pink is a pretty color. Better than red.

She forgot about you.

Your fingertips are wrinkly. Blood was thick. It hung heavy, it weighed down your clothes. Weighed down your heart, submerged your mind. You were under the blood like you were underwater.

She left you alone.

You swallow, your mouth feels full of red. No, not red. Blood.

“She left me alone,” You think you say, but it doesn’t sound like your voice. It’s shattered, garbled. Bloody. Was that you?

Did she leave you alone?

In the sea of red comes lilac. A coat, whipping about the destructive battlefield, contrasting so sharply with the darkness of it that you almost have to close your eyes; Something tells you not to. That color, that presence. The vibrancy of it. Familiar. Safe. Home. You don't process ever saying her name, but when that bright figure whips around to face your crumpled body, you realize that you must have. A plea, a calling.

She said she'd protect you.

There was so much blood.

Her fuzzy figure breaks into a jog, boots thudding quickly across the rivers of red below. Red footprints left in their wake. It makes you sick, and your body aches; It burns red.

The Doctor kneels when she’s close enough. You want to move closer to her, to be comforted by her. She looks warm until you look to her eyes.

"What's wrong? Is this your blood?" She's demanding, her voice dark. Not light, not by any means. The color of blood, of destruction, of a deep and brewing storm. Her eyes weren't red, but they might as well have been. She says your name. A hand to your cheek.

"Who did this to you?"

Voice darker, growing bolder. Angrier. Her hand is hard against your skin, and you whimper involuntarily. You need her to be your home, and she was becoming someone you didn't recognize. The rainbows of her personality were replaced by thunder and malice. It scares you.

You startle.

She scares you.

And she stops.

It must be in your eyes, you think, or the way you flinch back at her sharpness and the cut of her touch. Usually so soft, suddenly so tight. You can’t understand it in this state of panic – maybe you would later – but right now it’s unbearable, and you just need her. Not whoever this was. Her.

“I’m sorry,” She says – guilty, regretful. Her hand softens just before it pulls away, and no, no – come back, you need her back, need that softness she just teased you with – and you reach up to grab her only to cry out in pain.

“No, no-“ The Doctor strains, falling to a pile beside you and ruining her clothes. Her knees stained red, palms turned wet. When she swipes the hair from your face, blood is left behind from the floor. You don’t care. You need her.

“I need you,” You say, without thought, automatic. It still isn’t your voice.

“I’m here.”

Her eyes are kind. Not red. Not dark, not hidden with something terrifying like before. Transparent, compassionate, home.

There she was. Your Doctor. Yours.

“Doctor,” You plead, and it is your voice – more than it was before. Bubbly, covered in stress and intensity, but it was yours again. She was yours again. “I can’t move.”

Her hands come to your side only for you to gasp in shock. It burns, sending a jolting snap through you as if her fingers shocked a painful current of electricity through your broken body, and it hurts more than it should because her hands should never cause you such pain. But it burned, and you didn’t want it to, and that fact hurt so bad that you crumble before her. The Doctor’s touch was always safe. She was safe.

But she left you alone.

And just as much as it hurts you, it burns straight through the Time Lord before you. The whirr of her sonic is all you can process through the blinding pain, and she looks at you as though her whole world is falling apart.

There’s a quick and final buzz, the flick of her wrist, and an analysis of results.

“Broken ribs. No open wounds. Oh, sweetheart-“

She catches herself, but still stares at you. Your eyes are weak and blurry when they meet her figure, but she’s so pretty against the backdrop of battle and blood, and she calls you such sweet things. Her clothes are ruined, her shoes red, and you whine without meaning to. Pathetic, maybe, but all it does is light a furious fire inside of her that you can’t quite see.

Behind that worried and gentle gaze was an impending hurricane; Eyes of lightning, steps of thunder. The Doctor pushed back that anger for your sake.

You were crumpled on the bloodied floor, and she had been ready to ravage galaxies to find you.

“I’m okay,” You tell her, trying to reassure the worried edge that covered her face with lines and regret. Your hand lifts, however slow, to touch her cheek. You’re lying to her. She knows. Your fingertips leave behind a bloody smear, and it only makes your tears fall faster – proves your false reassurance. “You’re here.”

She hushes you, leans into your desperate fingertips. You need to feel her, she needs to feel you. It’s unspoken.

You’re alive.

You found me.

“You’re here,” You repeat quietly, broken. “Don’t… Don’t leave me again. I can’t-“

“I won’t. No, never. Couldn’t.”

Each word is punctuated with a touch to your arm, your shoulder, your cheek. She leans forward, kisses your forehead so gently you must see stars. No – galaxies. Not just red. Rainbow.

“We need to move now. I’ll take you home.”

Home. When would she learn?

With her hand to your cheek and her lips to your skin, you were already there.

“Alright, then. Let’s get going. Can you do that for me?”

You could do anything for her, now that she was here. You almost forget about the blood, and so does she.

The Doctor begins pulling you to a stand.

“Slowly, now. That’s good, you’re-“

The words stop in her throat, eyes suddenly flickering down.

The Doctor freezes.

Along your neck are fingerprints. Crescent shaped marks in your skin from filthy nails, purples and blues mixing to ruin your perfect skin. Bruises. Indents. Clashing with your delicacy.

Someone touched you.

Someone who obviously didn’t know who the Doctor was, who didn’t know precisely what she was capable of. Someone who wrapped their fingers around your throat; Someone who left ugly, long-lasting marks. Someone who has just made a very, very bad enemy.

Someone who hurt you.

And her eyes go black.

“Who…” She’s straining, resisting. Body nearly shaking with the rage that suddenly ignites her, softness receding but trying desperately to keep it in place for you. You deserved that. She’d give it to you. “Who did this?”

Her fingers touch your jawline, so carefully trailing to your neck. You flinch back. Why did you do that? It’s her. Yet when The Doctor’s fingertips brush a certain spot on your skin, you cry out and drop your head against her chest before you. It hurts. You know it wasn’t her, but it hurts.

“Tell me,” She says then, tense. Withholding. She speaks through her teeth and forces herself to stay level, though you can feel her heartbeats echo rapidly in her chest. Her fingers are purposely careful against your wounds, yet you can’t help a sob when the memory returns.

His hands had covered your throat, squeezed your windpipe while you tried to scream. It was her name that came from your shrieking lungs, you think, before waking up on a blood covered floor. You needed her. She’d left you alone.

One of her hands is placed on the warmth of your cheek, the other now pressing your face into her chest. Her shirt is wet. No, wait – You were crying. Those were tears, on her shirt, making it wet. Your tears.

“Oh, no,” You say tiredly, mixed with sobs, muffled against her. “I’m sorry.”

You’re slightly delirious; Pained and needy. Her thumb grazes your cheekbone when she pulls you back, sliding across your face gently, keeping you grounded and perhaps doing the same for herself when she looks into your eyes.

“No, not sorry. Never sorry. What are you sorry for?”

You sniff again, louder, and collapse back into her chest. It’s safe there, hidden, and listening to heartbeats was steady in contrast to the terror around you.

“I’m ruining your clothes.”

The darkness in her subsides slightly, looking down at her shirt, looking down at you tucked into her.

“You…” She starts, head tilting almost in confusion before shaking it with a blink. “My clothes?”

“Yeah,” You sigh. Defeated, exhausted. You pull your head back up, straining with how heavy you feel. Your eyes are glued to the mesh of wet drops and splotches on her chest. “Messed it up. I like that shirt.”

“Do you now?” The Doctor responds softly, that sharp edge dissipating, being pushed back for another moment. Simply soft, now. Hard when she needs to be. Never hard with you.

She smiles slightly, just a tiny bit. It’s enough to brighten an entire galaxy.

“Yeah,” You tell her again. “Yeah, nice color.”

“Ah,” She settles on, smile growing. Oh, you liked that. You wanted more of that. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head over. Have got a closet full of them, and it’s certainly bigger on the inside.”

She brings a palm to your cheek, soft as can be. “Besides, you worry about the silliest things.”

You lean into her. She’s still crouched down beside you, knees on the red floor. Red floor. The feeling of dried blood covering your hands returns, and you wished you hadn’t looked down, wished you’d stayed in that moment with her and that beautiful smile. The tears on her shirt were nothing compared to the blood on her boots. You’d clean them, you think. When you got back. And you’d do laundry. Simple, soft, kind, for her. You’d erase this, rid yourself of red.

You hate red.

“Up we go,” The Doctor announces, interrupting your single-colored thoughts and filling them with iridescence. She comes to your side, slides her arm behind your shoulder blades. You lean the rest of your weight into her when she lifts your fragile form, but it still burns, and you still cry out.

The Doctor stays silent, jaw held tight. When she catches a side glance to your crumpled expression, it seems as though she’s going to say something, but she doesn’t.; It’s as though she can’t bear to speak. The hot tears that slide down your freezing face gather at your chin and drop to the red ground. Stop, no. Not red. Bloody. So bloody.

As you move forward, your eyes stay on that blood. It trails across the floor like a devilish painting, like a swift masterpiece made entirely of misery, and you feel suddenly sick. Dizzy. The red room is spinning, and the Doctor tries her best to keep you still. Her tight jaw loosens. If not for anything, just for you.

“Stick with me, alright? Got a ways to go, and I need you present. Let me get you safe.”

But you left me.

It isn’t until she stops, halts both of your moving bodies, that you realize you’d said that aloud. Your one hand is clutching to the fabric on her back. Blue. Such a lovely color.

The Doctor pauses and stares at you, taking the time to think before she speaks. Her face is furrowed, though her eyebrows have slightly risen, eyes scanning over you and looking between yours. Searching you and searching for her words. You’d never known the Doctor to do that.

There’s silence for a moment, a long second of contemplation and pain on both of your parts. Her eyes are reflective as her body stays still. You might’ve mistaken her for a statue, a paragon of grief and yearning, and something else you’re all too afraid to place. She’s as still as the dead that rest on the floor.

“I know,” She murmurs. Simple and with finality. “I know.”

You stare at her, the two of you stuck in red. The blood is tacky beneath your feet. The bodies lay limp, you stand still.

“And I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.”

Your next breath is shaky. The depth of her words are deeper than the shade of blood staining your world, yet it suddenly feels blue.

“Thank you,” You tell her, because you’ve no idea of what else could suffice. Nothing could, but it’s enough for now.

The Doctor adjusts her hold, bringing her hand down from your shoulder to support your waist instead. She simply looks at you. And that’s enough, too.

Your side is melded into her hold even as you clench through the pain, not caring in the slightest because that pressure reminded you she was here. It was all red, before, but now it was blue, and lilac, and blonde; There was a rainbow on her shirt and the brightest stars in her eyes. When you’d meet her gaze, she’d smile comfortingly, like home, or a window of escape and peace. The blackhole of anger within the Doctor would dissipate slightly.

“Almost back! We’ll turn a corner there, then straight down. TARDIS is hidden in a perfectly-sized closet. Convenient, isn’t it? All spaceships seem to have TARDIS sized closets.”

You trudge forward and focus on her words, calmer than the sea of vicious pain coursing through your poor body. How did it ever get this bad? Tear stained cheeks accompanied only by grief and shock. Had it all hit you, yet? The pain was stark, but the memories were blurry. You remembered them as though it was someone else.

It had been a blast, a bang, a number of rapid shots as bright red beams of light shot through the walls. Silver weapons firing into bodies, causing casualties, missing only you. How had they missed you? Bodies strewn across the floor accompanied by your own, curled up in a ball pathetically and pitifully. What could you do? Could you have saved them, all of them? Could you have been the Doctor?

You tried. Forced yourself up from the floor as it first became bloody, faced the men who burst into the complex and reigned hell upon it’s occupants. You spoke with authority and you spoke like she would. You were the Doctor, you tried to be. And it hadn’t been enough.

“Alright there?” The Doctor asks, and she already knows the answer, but she asks anyway. Maybe a piece of her hopes it’s something it isn’t. When her eyes linger on your neck again, you have to shut your eyes and block the memory. How long did bruises last? Would the divots of fingernails leave scars?

Her hand raises, slowly, you feel it. She places it on your neck and tightens her hold on your waist as best she can without hurting you. It didn’t matter, because everything hurt. She just didn’t want it to be because of her.

“It’s foolish, really,” The Doctor says, suddenly sharp. Your eyes snap open in confusion, but her eyes remain kind as she looks to you. You blink twice and open your mouth to question her, but when she looks back down to your neck, her gaze eclipses into pure, unaltered darkness, and the words stop in your throat. “Did they think they would get away with this?”

You stare at her, her eyes still locked on the damage to your throat, and she doesn’t move an inch. Stopped in this less bloody hallway, the landscape of your pain physically behind you yet still leaving an underlying imprint. You blink, swallow.

“Away with what?”

Her eyes rise slowly, dragging across your injuries, up the span of your open neck with catastrophic analysis. She notes every detail, every prick and every discoloration, and finally reaches your eyes. They’re ruinous. Possessive.

“Laying their hands on you.”

Your lungs constrict suddenly with a tight hitch and the widening of your eyes. You think your heartrate spikes, or maybe it completely stops, or maybe it flies out of your chest. She continues to stare, and you continue to freeze under her glacial expression. There’s a warmth in the hand that wraps protectively around you, so contrasting to her forbidding eyes, so much so that you almost flinch. But you stay still, trying and failing to breathe, and waiting for her next move without knowing what to do with yourself.

She shifts. The hand on your neck comes up, thumb against the front of your chin, fingers beneath your jaw, and she tilts your head to the side in order to scan you further. Her head leans forward slightly in what you assume is a way to find any other points of impact upon your skin, but it only puts her closer to you, warmer against you, breaths on your bruised neck. You freeze entirely, not even taking the time to breathe. What was she doing?

Then she leans in. You can smell her, then, the comfort and warmth and kindness of her entire being overwhelming your senses and replacing the stale stench of blood. Your palms are wet with sweat and that devastatingly red liquid when she moves even closer, and her dark eyes glow. Really, actually, glow.

You feel an exhale against your neck before she presses her lips to that specific spot, and you gasp with a flinch. Her hand on your waist tightens once, a reassurance, and your body feels suddenly light. It’s that feeling when you first wake up after a good night’s sleep, or when you climb into a bath set at the most perfect temperature. It comes from her kiss against your skin. Igniting like a steady fire, a bright glow emitting from where she made contact, and you feel completely light once more just before the feeling dissipates. It’s rejuvenating, or fulfilling. It’s… Regenerative.

You push her away, even with weak arms, and you watch as her glowing yellow eyes recede back to their almost normal hazel. They’re abnormally grave, with an extra feign of confusion. Your hands remain on her upper arms and she keeps her body close to yours.

“Doctor, you shouldn’t have done that,” You almost snap, feeling much more alive what with the very risky regenerative energy that just coursed through you without your permission – without her better judgement. The Doctor shifts, looking between your eyes as if she never even heard you, before something with finality sets into them.

“You’re going back to the TARDIS.”

She steps forward, almost crowding you, hand still supportive on your waist in a now tighter grip. Her head tilts and leans purposely into your space, and when her eyes flicker down to your neck once more, you freeze, and she notices. Her gaze is ruinous when it returns to your own. Protective. No, more than that. Possessive.

“And before that, you’re going to tell me who did this to you.”

You scoff, blinking rapidly in complete shock at her near – no, complete – arrogance, and that twinge of something else you’d very much like to ignore during this inopportune moment. Yet you can’t help but admire her, in some strange way, even through the shock of her slightly pointed words.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit she was a sight to behold. Emotions that had never been previously directed at you were now in the forefront of her analyzing view, and in the same way that your previous moments were tainted red, her current thoughts seemed to be covered in it. Her words were precise, sharp – not cutting into you, rather – cutting into the idea of anyone ever laying a hand on what was hers. What was hers.

It should scare you.

Up close and personal with the infamous Oncoming Storm, the same hurricane that just pressed a glowing kiss to your damaged skin. So quick to switch between holding the most immense amount of compassion for you, and then lacking any sliver of it for those who even dreamed of harming you.

It should scare you.

But look at her. Rainbow in a stripe across her chest, royal blue fabric clashing with the disgusting and tired red surrounding the two of you. Her boots are perfect for running, her pants held up by bright yellow suspenders, and her smile is like the sweetest sunshine on a particularly rainy day. You’d bask in the sunlight when it came.

For now, you’ll stand in this downpour of her and revel in that instead. Two sides of the same wondrous, unpredictable coin that is the Doctor, these two sides you’ve come to…

Oh. That could be saved for another day. Perhaps it’s simply best to ignore that tug of yearning and let her care for you in the best way she knows how. Defending you, acting as a shield – knowing well that you could stand up for yourself, knowing that you’d probably tried – and dealing her own doses of karma to those who deserved it. No, she didn’t simply interfere with time; The Doctor owned it. She could pretend all she wants about being avoidant, about keeping out of history, but you knew. When something hurt the Doctor – no, when something hurt you – there was no stopping her. It was an inevitable thing. A struck nerve turned vicious.

The nerve was struck, the damage done. So here came the storm.

“I don’t know,” You admit honestly, slightly quietly. Did you wish you knew, or did you wish you’d forget all together? Was the fleeting memory better left blurry? Or would the details help you cope with the truth of it all, and the security of now? “I’m not… I don’t know. He was cruel, and disgusting. His teeth were almost brown when he- he-“

You swallow hard, avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. “When he smiled.”

Your eyes can’t bear to raise and see her reaction, but you feel the grip on your waist tighten until you hitch your breath in pain. Only then does it soften, a thumb running over your side in subtle apology even as fire runs through her veins. Anger so hot that it was palpable. You still didn’t need to look at her to know that she was staring down at you, assessing you, mind running with every possible course of what you’d call vengeance and what she’d call retribution.

The words flow out of you now, unable to stop it when the hazy memory bombards all your previously calming senses. It burns in your throat when you speak. You hope she can’t hear the painful strain, or the clench of your teeth, but you know she does. That’s just something she knows. You.

“I tried to be like… like you,” You stress, body fatigued, worried eyes needing the comfort of the Doctor’s gaze; She was safe, though the current blackhole-like-state of her eyes reflected otherwise. “I tried so hard. So you’d be…” You take a shaky breath with your eyes closed, “So you’d be proud of me.”

You laugh, then, a dangerous thing, an almost angry thing. Pitiful, perhaps, was the better word. Embarrassed, maybe. Your head shakes in frustration. At your own failure.

“But I didn’t do it right, or I’m just not cut out for that certain thing, or they just thought I looked too… pathetic,” You ramble, eyes bouncing about the room now, looking at absolutely anything but her. You don’t know the exact expression that she wears. You worry it may be of pity. “I was alone.”

You feel her inhale take a pause, slightly, barely noticeable. A guilty exhale through frowning lips that follows.

You shift again, not acknowledging the pain of your side, or the pain in your heart. Alone. It left scars a lot deeper than the ones on your skin.

“Doctor, I don’t…“ You take a breath even if you know it won’t help. Your vision becomes fuzzy, like seeing through stained glass, and you realize that it’s the gathering of tears.

You swallow. And you look up at her.

“I don’t know why they didn’t just kill me,” You whisper. The tears brimming at the edge of your eyes simply spill at that sentence, at the assertion that you could be dead. Was it ridiculous, then, to complain about what happened? To complain that you had these bruises, because you had the privilege of being alive while others didn’t?

At least you were away from the bodies, now. But they were left alone instead of you.

The Doctor’s hard eyes soften just slightly. They still hold that impending danger, the oncoming storm you’ve come to know, but it’s gentler. Not pity as you had feared, but compassion. Kindness. Understanding. You revel in it, take that sweetness in while it lasted, appreciate the mercifulness.

But your words hurt her. Your words that told the story of fear and misery, words that told the story of when she couldn’t keep you safe as she always, always promised. You knew it hurt; You saw it in the way she didn’t know whether to step closer to you or back away. Because beneath the tender care was worry, and beneath that worry was pain, and beneath that pain was guilt. Guilt that pooled in the irises of her eyes, that tinted the hazel of them a gloomy blue. Guilt at breaking her promise. Guilt at letting someone do this to you.

“I’ll be okay,” You tell her, because what else could you say? It was true, and it seemed good, and with her by your side it was attainable. Beyond that. It was close. She healed your wounds in ways no one ever could, healed your heart even if she broke it. She fixed her mistakes, she made up for her faults – she cared about you. She cared about you.

And she hadn’t meant to leave you.

You knew that, now. You were reassured of it. The red had blinded you, but with her you could see.

“I’ve been worried about the wrong things,” The Doctor concludes, looking down at you in her arms; Her vengeance pushed away, her vibrance returning to the light. “Been so focused on who hurt you, I wasn’t even considering that you’re hurt.”

You just look at her. You know you don’t have to say anything; She’s chastising herself, replacing her actions to better suit your needs.

“Alright,” She continues, a new sweetness in her eyes, a soothing apology to your pains. “Home, then?”

You nod, and she takes a breath, and you take one too.

She hadn’t meant to leave you.

What had she said before?

I’ll spend the rest of my existence vowing to never do it again.

“Yeah, Doctor,” You say softly, and something about it is rainbow. “Home sounds good.”

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you?#the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #the doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfic #doctor who fanfiction #thirteen x reader #this is painful #do you hate the color red now?#xoxo #also hi willow i posted are you proud of me

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theramenbandit · 3 years

Note

20 and 59 for the mashup au prompts. Any pairing that strikes your fancy :)

From this post here

Describe how I’ll combine them: Co-teachers to lovers via secret admirer shenanigans.

“And don’t forget, project drafts are due next Thursday.”

So far, so good, Lena thinks as she gathers up her belongings and heads out the door of her first class of the day. She likes it here in Midvale. It’s a lot slower, a lot quieter, a lot--

Force, mass, velocity, something bumps into her hard.

“Oh shoot! I am so sorry. Here…”

The woman who apparently was the thing that bumped into her bends down and picks her things up off the floor.

Lena is, of course, properly miffed and halfway to a firm scolding until the woman straightens up again and Lena forgets how talking works for a moment.

Her hair is flowing in golden locks and the bluest eyes she had ever seen are looking at her from behind dark-rimmed glasses.

“Wait, you’re the new girl, right? Lena from Metropolis?”

“Yes,” Lena clears her throat. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Sorry about that,” the woman says nervously. “Let me make it up to you. Lunch in the hall at lunchtime?”

Lena should say no. She’s not here to make friends. But the blonde is cute and her shoulders are...nice. So…

“Okay.”

The blonde gives her a thumbs up and turns to leave, but quickly turns around and jogs back to where Lena is standing mutely.

“It’s Kara, by the way.” She extends a hand towards Lena in introduction. “Kara Danvers. I teach English.”

Ao3

Kara Danvers takes it upon herself to be Lena from Metropolis’ first ever official work friend.

Lena loses a fight with the coffee maker. She’d been having a bad day already, see. Her mother had called this morning, so naturally, by the time the damn machine stopped working, she was on the brink of tears.

“Hey there, is everything alright?” Kara asks cautiously as she walks into the break area.

“Everything is fucking dandy, thanks.” Lena growls, angrily swiping a hand at her eyes.

“Whoa, okay… You know, Noonan’s is right over there and your next class isn’t til 3, we could--”

“How did you know that?”

Kara casually points to the schedule on the board behind her.

Lena only growls again.

“Okay, you’re really wound up. Come on, a walk could do you some good.”

Kara learns that Lena is here as a middle school science teacher because she wants to prove something to her mother. And the pressure is getting to her.

“Sometimes you don't have to do amazing, just have to do your best.” Kara says reasonably. “Look, you're great and your students love you. So don't worry about what your mother says. Judge your work by the proper standard or... something.”

Lena chuckles at that. Kara was probably right.

"Thank you. I… I really needed that."

Kara nods sagely and continues to sip at her iced coffee. "What are friends for?"

The note is simple and plain and handwritten and she has absolutely no idea what it means. Or who it’s from, for that matter.

It’s, well... It’s notes. The note contains notes. That much she can suppose from the five lines and the G-clef and the black dots staring back at her. She looks around for anyone who might have left it there by accident, but she’s alone in the faculty room. What’s more, the note is wedged between the pages of her lesson plan for today, the only thing currently lying on her desk. Frowning, she looks back down at the small piece of paper and shoves it into one of her drawers. She’ll decide what to do with it later.

The note notes are piling up now and she thinks this might be something worth investigating. She'd gotten three more over the last week, each with the same handwriting and the same paper, but the notes on the staff (she does know some things) seemed to be different every time. She lines them up in order of the dates she got them and squints intensely at them, daring the offending dots to tell her what the hell is going on.

Kara's eyes widen in horror when she walks into the faculty room and sees Lena glaring at the notes.

Her notes.

She quickly makes to get out again but Lena's already seen her.

"Kara, hey!"

Shit.

"Hi, what's up?" the blonde responds, her voice suddenly pitchy.

"Can you help me figure this out?" She scoots over as Kara leans into her space and over her desk.

"Oh, they're notes," Kara tries nonchalantly.

"I can see that," Lena deadpans. "Notes to what?"

"Ehm, well this is a G, and this is a D… That's an E minor… It's a song."

Lena fights the urge to dramatically roll her eyes. "Do you know what song it is?"

Dammit, this is wonderful.

"It could be any song, Lena."

She's still trying to dodge it but Lena is adamant. And Kara doesn't want to lie, but she doesn't want to be found out, either.

"Uh... I could play it and maybe we can figure it out?"

"Okay, let's try that."

The music room is empty, much to Kara's eternal chagrin, so she and Lena walk up to the piano and she starts to play the notes that Lena holds up in front of her.

"It's Elvis," Kara says simply.

Lena soon recognizes the tune and starts to hum along with the keys. Just then, Kara slowly looks up from her seat and is mesmerized by the sight: the light is hitting Lena's face just so, illuminating the lines of her jaw, the curve of her lips, the dark red of her hair. She wishes she could stay in this moment forever. And if Lena were paying attention, she would notice that Kara wasn't even looking at the notes anymore. She was playing by heart.

"Oh, that's sweet," Lena whispers when the tune is done. "And you never told me you could play."

"My dad taught me the basics. The rest I figured out myself," Kara says quietly.

"Aren't you full of surprises?"

"It might be Mike, you know, that guy from the marching band? He is objectively good looking."

"He chews with his mouth open."

"Ooh, could it be Jack from phys ed?" He walks around with a guitar most Fridays."

"Lena, Jack is so gay for the bar owner and you know it."

"Well, who could it be?"

Me, Kara wants to say. But she doesn't. She doesn't want to make things weird.

They're sitting on the bleachers during the afternoon break, Lena leaning into her side munching on the donuts Kara had gotten for them. It wasn't hard for them to fall into this sort of easy companionship. Kara was open and friendly, and Lena, once her walls had gone down, was sharp and fascinating. And Kara fears that the feelings she's developed might ruin whatever this was that they had. So instead of being honest with herself, she just shrugs and bites sullenly into her own donut.

"It could be anyone."

People are starting to notice how often they are together, start talking about how cute they look next to each other. And so people waste no time in throwing them into each other's paths, especially since prom is three days away.

“Come ON, Lena!” Kara yells as she grabs Lena’s hand and drags her to the dance floor. Lena tries her best until she isn’t so much trying as she is struggling to keep up with Kara, who seems to have only got more hyper as the night wore on. But the joy on her face is infectious, and honestly, if she got to see this every day, Lena wouldn’t mind.

The song ends and the band’s vocalist approaches the mic.

"Hey, hey, everybody, y’all having a good time?”

The crowd whoops in affirmation.

“Alright! Well I think it’s about the proper hour, so we’re gonna slow things down a bit starting with a classic.”

The opening strains of a piano-driven ballad fill the air, and Kara politely extends a hand towards Lena.

Lena accepts.

Wise men say only fools rush in / But I can’t help falling in love with you

The world around them dissolves as they sway together, Kara’s hand gentle against the small of Lena’s back, Lena’s arm reaching up behind Kara’s shoulder.

“It’s Elvis,” Kara whispers against her hair.

“It was you,” Lena chuckles in response.

“You knew?” Kara says as she draws back to look at her.

“No. But I was kinda hoping.” She smiles warmly and Kara has never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

“You’re not mad?”

“Darling, why would I be mad?” Lena lifts her hand to brush it across Kara’s cheek. “You had me at Oh Shoot."

Kara laughs as she ducks her head in embarrassment and Lena cannot help but join her.

"I'd really like to kiss you right now."

"Please do."

#Full disclosure i have zero experience with teacher AUs #Like i was legit scared when this landed in my inbox #But i had fun doing this and it was a good brain stretch #so thank you spicycheeser for the challenge and i hope this was to your liking #i went with sc bcs why not #20 teacher au #59 interrupted declaration of love #RBmicrofics #writing tag #word count #1476 #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Star Wars AU #20: MacenJar AU

Inspired by this meme and with permission from @simpskywalker

This au is dedicated to everyone who told me that this concept ‘gave them a headache’ or ‘psychic damage’. Especially that special someone who begged me to ‘please stop’ because ‘i hate this, i hate this so much’ and told me ‘please don’t say more words about this.’

Crack Lies Ahead, enough to consume a man. I have spoken.

“Ani. Ani. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hmm?” The dulcet sounds of Padme calling his name dragged Anakin from sleep against his will.

“Anakin, you have to get up.”

He groaned, rolling over. “...here’s my face...I’ll...be awake in a second...just sit down...I’m awake...”

“No, Anakin you have to leave, remember. You have a 5 AM take-off scheduled, and you made me promise I would get you up early this time, come on.”

She cruelly yanked the covers away. He gasped in betrayal.

“My own wife...how could you.”

“Anakin if you’re not out of bed in the next 30 seconds the next time you beg to stay the night because ‘you can get up early, you swear’ I am kicking you out before anyone sits anywhere near anyone’s face, do you understand.”

He sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed. “Ok, Ok, I’m up I- Padme!”

“Yes?” She asked sweetly, brushing her hair at the vanity.

“It’s 3 AM!”

“Yes I know, you were going to stop at that bakery I recommended, remember?”

“You woke me up an hour and half early so I could stop at a bakery,” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Anakin, it was your idea. It was going to be your cover, in case anyone wondered what you were doing in the building.”

“That is-” before he could call it the stupidest idea he had ever heard, the memory of promising Padme that staying the night was a good idea because it would facilitate his cunning ruse (he was distracted, ok? Padme was wearing a lot of layers) came rushing back.

“-right,” he finished lamely.

Padme just hummed and began braiding in her cosmetic forcefields.

Anakin managed to stretch, complete his morning refresher run, and arrange his robes in a suitably decorous fashion by the time Padme had established the base layer of her hairstyle for the day.

A quick kiss- no goodbye, it hurt too much to say goodbyes in war - and Anakin was out the door.

He idly scratched his chin, vacantly looking out the lift and vaguely considering growing a beard. The pre-dawn view was quickly replaced by metal walls as the ride dropped below the skyline.

The transparisteel pod began to slow scarcely one third of the way down. Anakin suppressed a groan and tried to arrange his expression in Jedi-stoic manner, hoping that whoever got in the lift with him would be too intimidated by seeing a Jedi close-up to think about what they were doing in a Senatorial Apartment building at 3:15 in the morning. If they ask, I’m visiting the famous Bebbisun Bakery. Bennison? BELLASAN. I’m visiting the Bellasan Bakery.

Actually, anyone getting into the elevator this early was probably also doing the walk of shame so it’s probably fi-KRIFFING SITH SPIT THAT’S

“Master Windu!” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice an octave. “Good- Good Morning!”

Windu’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Knight Skywalker. Good morning to you as well,” he replied, stepping in the elevator, doors closing behind.

The lift descended as Anakin’s heart rate skyrocketed. This was it. Windu had to be here for Anakin. What other possible explanation could there be? WHY WASN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING?

Wait.

What other possible explanation...could...why wasn’t he saying ANYTHING?

Anakin scrutinized Master Windu out of the corner of his eye. Were those...the same robes he was wearing yesterday? They looked like the same robes but then again...pretty much all robes looked the same so this was probably a stupid way to figure things out. Fuck, it was too early for this.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t get a sense of the Master’s surface emotions. But his underlying aura seemed...happy? Typically Windu's serene presence had a tinge of righteous fury (something that had frightened him back when he was a child). But now that ever present vaapad edge was... softened? Anakin wracked his tired brain for a more reasonable explanation than- than the obvious but obviously impossible. He had to projecting. Right? Then again...couplings weren’t forbidden (even if Anakin couldn’t quite understand how people enjoyed just- having sex without any attachment).

The corners of Anakin’s lips twitched. The Master of the Order. Getting laid. Master Windu. In the Senatorial apartments. Mace Windu. What level had he gotten on? Above aides...diplomats probably. Should he ask? Force, this was too good- he couldn’t not ask.

Windu stared at him cooly and the knight instantly sobered. What was he thinking? Windu was obviously trying to trick him! If he said anything, Windu would turn it against him! Well, he wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Anakin spent the next several levels of descent staring forward, determined not to be the one to break the silence.

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the lift slowing prematurely again until the doors opened; an elderly Rodian hobbled in. The two Jedi moved even further apart to allow the man some space. The lift closed and newcomer glanced at the humans curiously.

“Aren’t you Jedi? What are two Jedi doing here so early?”

“Bakery,” Mace and Anakin responded in unison, heads snapping to stare at the other in surprise.

The Rodian chuckled. “Oh, that Bellasan place, right?”

“Yes,” Windu replied smoothly. “They have a famously unique caf blend.”

“And you can’t get Sweesonberry rolls anywhere else,” Anakin added quickly, not letting the opportunity to firm up his cover go to waste.

“You mammals and your carbohydrates,” The elderly reptilian clucked, bemused.

Knight Skywalker and Master Windu exchanged wary looks. The door pinged open on level 4848.

“Enjoy!” the overly entertained Rodian called out as they stepped out from the closing doors.

Anakin cleared his throat. “After you, Master Windu,” he said politely. CHECKMATE FUCKER.

But Windu just nodded serenely, striding confidently ahead, past the checkpoints and into the attached upper-crust market. After a very short walk, Anakin found himself in line behind Mace Windu at a pastry shop in the basement of his wife’s apartment building.

Anakin blearily thought that sentence through again, then subtly pinched the inside of his arm.

Nope, he was awake.

Every second that passed Anakin had to fight the steadily increasing urge to blurt out something stupid, and possibly incriminating, if not both. Just say something bland! Nothing about why they’re both here so early. Nothing about coming here before. Something casual.

“Smells good,” Anakin said.

Nailed it!

“Indeed,” Mace replied.

I’m a genius! He actually thinks I’m here for the bakery! He’s never going to suspect a thing! He was probably here for some boring pre-dawn meeting, and now I’ve got the perfect excuse to come visit Padme whenever! I can probably start sneaking off more often, I’ve just got to remember to bring back a pasty or something. And he can’t even say shit about un-Jedi like consumption!

“Skywalker-”

Oh no. Please be about the bakery. Pleasebeaboutthe

“Believe me when I tell you that I’d rather not ask-”

Oh NO. THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE ABOUT THE BAKERY. I’M AN IDIOT.

“-But did you fly here in a temple speeder?”

Cold sweat started to trickle down Anakin’s back as they shuffled forward automatically in the surprisingly long queue. Guess that’s why Padme woke me up so early.

“Knight Skywalker? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Master Windu, sorry- I was, uh, distracted by the specials board. I, um, have my own hoverbike. Built it myself. No temple resources involved.”

“Sounds...distinctive.” Windu’s tone seemed neutral, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose was obviously irritated. They stepped forward again. Why are so many people at this bakery so early? Guess we’re far enough down that day/night cycles don’t matter so much. Oh kriff, he’s massaging his temples now. Why is he mad about the bike? Is he going to ask where I landed it? Fuck.

Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I- I thought it would be better to take personal property. Since this isn’t exactly order business.”

“That’s very responsible of you. Such...separation of personal from professional is an important skill for a Jedi.”

The trickle of sweat down his spine increased. The Chosen One discretely wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his sleeves and prayed that his outer robe was hiding any growing pit stains.

Are we...actually talking about this? Is he going to admit to having an affair? Is he going to tell me to keep this quiet? I CAN BARELY KEEP MY OWN RELATIONSHIP SECRET! Does he know about Padme? Does he know we’re married? Is this conversation still about the bakery visit? Is HE married?

“However...such a vehicle might not be the most discrete. And discretion is also an important skill.”

Is he giving me permission to use the temple landspeeders to visit padme? Is he telling me to take the bus? WAIT! IS THIS A METAPHOR? Is he telling me to come here less? Is this still about the bakery? Did I actually check that I wasn’t still asleep or did I just dream that I checked?

“Do you understand, Knight Skywalker”

“I- uhh. I mean- well, ummm- OH look, it’s your turn to order!”

Master Windu stepped up to the counter.

“Hello, again! Same as last time?”

OH FORCE GODS HE’S A REGULAR. THIS IS IT. I’M NEVER GOING TO GET TO SEE OBI-WAN OR ASHOKA AGAIN AND PADME’S CAREER IS GOING TO BE RUINED AND

“The same blend please, but please add on one of your Sweesonberry rolls- a friend recommended them.”

...Did Mace Windu just call me his friend?

“Excellent choice! Your friend has good taste!”

Mace Windu stepped to the side and Anakin Skywalker stepped up. “...I’ll have what he had.”

A minute or two later, they were walking back to the lift, matching disposamugs and flimsibags in hand.

To try and delay the inevitable, the pale and now very sweaty young Jedi took a sip of caf. He raised both brows involuntary. “This is...really good. Holy kriff. I don’t usually drink caf for the flavor but...wow.”

“Worth the trip?” Windu asked. Anakin choked a little but successfully managed to swallow. He took another sip to avoid answering.

Windu took a bite of his roll, making a small noise of appreciation, “The pastry is also excellent. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but this is remarkably smooth...I can’t say I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”

“Floral, right?” Anakin said, grinning into his cup.

“Yes, that’s a good description.” Ha! I told Padme I was paying attention.

They drank companionably as the lift indicator dinged closer.

“Skywalker...you’re parked on 4970, right?”

The knight nodded, too afraid to speak. The force seemed to swirl at the precipice of something.

The Master sighed. “Look- I’ve got an unregistered van- this one time only, stow the speeder, and I’ll give you a ride back. If you’re visiting the bakery in the future- please take something with a closed cab. Last thing we need is the tabloids wondering where you’re going...”

Anakin nodded again, more eagerly again. He was practically being given permission to visit Padme! That was totally worth an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the temple! He just had to chew slowly so he couldn’t blurt out anything marriage related! He was a genius!

The lift opened.

“Jar-Jar!” Anakin said, surprised and pleased. “Wow, are you also here for the bakery? This place really is popular!”

“Ani! Little Ani! Wassa you doin here?” Jar-Jar looked around wildly, then stumbled out, foot catching at the gap. Windu darted forward and effortlessly saved the Gungan before he hit the floor, while Anakin stuck his arm forward to catch the closing door.

“Bakery, Jar Jar!” he said as he stepped inside. “I’d love to talk, but we’ve actually got to get back to the temple!”

Windu struggled to untangle himself from Jar-Jar, who was being particularly unhelpful about it, even for him. Wow he’s even clingier than usual this early in the morning. It’s nice how patient Master Windu is being; I feel like even Obi-Wan can be too hard on Jar-Jar sometimes.

“Actually Skywalker, why don’t you go on ahead and stow the bike- I just remembered I meant to pick something up for Council; I won’t take long.”

“Uh. Alright,” Anakin said, catching the keys. I guess I can’t really be late if I arrive with Master Windu.

“Ossa no!” Jar-Jar exclaimed sadly. “I was justa saying to Macey lassa night thatsa I missed talkin wit little Ani!”

Anakin smiled reassuringly as the lift began to close. “Don’t worry Jar-Jar! We’ll- catch uh-HOLD ON did you say LAST NIGHT?!”

Mace’s eyes closed in resignation as the door shut on the pair, Jar-Jar still tangled around the Jedi.

AND MACE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO PUT HIM BACK UPRIGHT ANYMORE HOLY KRIFF JUST PUT THAT TOGETHER.

Anakin stared blankly at the metal walls as they rushed past. The lone Jedi Knight took a long sip of caff, then carefully placed the pastry bag and drink on the floor. He systematically wadded up the sleeve of his robe and shoved in his mouth. He then spent the next few minutes squealing with unholy glee while literally bouncing off the walls in a manner only accessible to a force sensitive in an elevator. He was still panting slightly when the lift opened on the primary parking level.

We can double date! Padme and I can host! I can help Mace and Jar-Jar plan their wedding! We can reform the order to allow for romantic love! I can be Jar-Jar’s best man! Padme and I can have another ceremony and Obi-Wan can give me away while Mace officiates and and then we’ll all have sweesonbury cake and Jar-Jar can help teach our kids how to swim!

With those dreamy thoughts running through his mind, it was child’s work to follow the the force to the unremarkable hovervan. He was humming to himself when Master Windu opened the door.

He beamed at the older Jedi. Windu scowled in reply. Anakin smiled wider, unintimidated. He genuinely liked the Gungan, but anyone who could spend hours with Jar-Jar had to have a soft side.

“You know, Jar-Jar is a long time friend of Senator-”

“No.” Windu cut the eager words brusquely.

Anakin shrank back, a little hurt.

(Maybe a lot hurt.)

Mace glanced over at the obviously crestfallen young General and sighed before amending his words.

“Not- Not right now, alright? Maybe if you’re miraculously more discrete about this than you are about your affection for Senator Amidala, then we can talk, understood?”

Anakin nodded with absolute determination, glimmering images of fairytale weddings visible once more. Distant, perhaps- but the chance was worth any amount of tongue biting. Now that there was a real, possible future where he could have it all, now that he knew Windu had a heart somewhere under his robes- he could be patient.

He could be very patient.

Anakin calmed his grin down to a smaller, more Jedi-like smile, taking a sip of the cool but still really good caf. He channeled Obi-Wan’s most neutral diplomatic grace.

“Thank you for the ride, Master Windu. I appreciate it.”

Windu gave him an approving glance. “You’re more than welcome, Knight Skywalker.”

Feeling bold, he continued on with his best non-mocking impression of Obi-Wan.

"Have you had a chance to read the latest report on helmet redesigns? I think they might really improve peripheral vision without compromising concussive resistance.”

Mace hummed thoughtfully. “I have. I’m somewhat concerned about deploying such a radical change mid-campaign. Even better gear requires an adjustment period, and I’d rather minimize needless deaths while the troops readjust to hud flow.”

“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern, I was talking to Captain Rex-”

They spent the remainder of the flight chatting comfortably about troop safety and absentmindedly eating (or possibly stress eating in response to the prolonged absence of interpersonal conflict) the box of pastries Mace had picked up. When they arrived at the temple, they divvied up the remainder between them, quietly agreeing that there weren’t enough to share anyway.

They continued their conversation, Master Windu accompanying him to the orbital loading bay.

Obi-Wan rushed over in alarm at the sight of them approaching. “Anakin, there you are- I was starting to wonder if you’d make it. Terribly sorry Master Windu- I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother-”

“He’s not your padawan anymore, you don’t have to apologize for him. Though I do appreciate the reflex.”

“I suppose the concern isn’t completely baseless.” Anakin said, tone deliberately mildly. Mace chuckled slightly and Obi-Wan took a step back, slightly frightened by the sudden camaraderie. Anakin pretended to take a sip from his now empty disposamug to avoid fist pumping the air or cheering.

“I- Yes well- the important thing is you’re here in time for departure. What- what is that in the bag.”

Moment of Truth. Don’t freak out. Focus. Prove you can be discrete, THEN double dates, THEN Jedi Wedding Ceremony.

“Sweesonbury Roll,” Anakin answered placidly. He pretended to take another sip of caf. “Master Windu was kind enough to give me a ride from the bakery.”

“That’s- I’m sorry, what?” Anakin bit the inside of cheek to keep himself from reacting to Obi-Wan’s palpable bewilderment.

“I had to double back and get more, but we came straight here after,” Mace added helpfully, with zero hint of intentional mischief. “Oh and Skywalker- you can call me Mace if we’re not discussing temple business.”

Anakin SCREAMED (internally, of course). Outwardly, he simply bowed politely. “And you’re welcome to call me Anakin, of course.”

He deliberately avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan, his former Master’s bug-eyed reaction already pushing him to the edge, even just visible as it was out of the corner of his eye.

Windu nodded in return. “Safe travels you two. May the force with you.”

“And with you.” Anakin replied.

“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan rushed to say, after a short delay.

Master Windu turned and exited the cargo bay doors. Anakin threw out the mug in a nearby bin, pulling out a roll and biting into it before turning to face Obi-Wan. They made eye-contact, each waiting for the other to break first. Usually that would be Anakin, but he had goals now. The Knight chewed. His Master’s eyes narrowed. The older man (who may have aged significantly in the last 5 minutes) finally broke.

“Who are you?”

Anakin just sighed, maintaining the Kenobi impression. “Come on Master, we don’t want to keep the troops waiting.” With that, he walked forward, hiding his smile as Obi-Wan followed closely at his heels.

“Since when does my apprentice visit bakeries with Mace Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.

“You’re making it sound like a bigger deal than it is.”

Master Kenobi sputtered as the pair opened the airlock for the short-range shuttle.

Anakin mustered up an earnest smile. “Master? Would you mind flying- I’m still eating and-”

Obi-Wan made an incoherent noise of horrified outrage before fumbling for his communicator.

“What are you doing?”

“NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE RIGHT NOW. EITHER YOU AND MACE NEED TO GO TO THE HEALING HALLS OR I DO!”

Anakin burst out laughing. “Relax Obi-Wan, I’m messing with you, holy shit. Obviously I’m flying.”

Obi-Wan slumped into the co-pilot seat, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t do that Anakin! My nerves are stretched thin enough by the war as it is-”

“Sorry, Sorry!”

They strapped in and took off, Anakin still chuckling occasionally, Obi-Wan scowling in irritation each time.

They ascended above the towering skyline alongside the first rays of sunlight.

“So you didn’t go to a bakery with Master Windu this morning?”

“Uhh-”

#star wars #my au #macenjar au #star wars au no 20 #crack treated seriously #mace windu #macenjar #ok i KNOW this is crack but i actually worked really hard on it and im very proud #so i would appreciate if you gave it a chance before forming judgements #NOTHING GRAPHIC OH MY GOD #star wars au #crack #crackship #anakin and padme wake up in bed together and have a married couple anidala conversation and then its PG after that i SWEAR #G RATED EVEN #Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker #becoming friends is my comfort trope ok

355 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

could we see coops first big fight when they’re married? (essentially pure angst)

Yes, we can! Don’t worry, I got your follow-up ask about a happy ending as well--there are no sad endings on this blog, just some bittersweet ones, and this is very soft and fluffy. Hope you enjoy!

Combined with prompts for...

1. Another of Coops’ serious talks

2. Remus overworking himself to keep up

3. From @colored-rain: Sirius sleeping at Dumo’s for a night

4. Slow dancing in the kitchen

TW for couples fighting, suppression, and marriage issues

“Do you think we got married too fast?” a quiet voice asked in the darkness.

Remus paused for several heartbeats before opening his eyes and turning over; Sirius was staring at the ceiling, wide awake. “What?”

“Do you think we got married too fast?” Sirius repeated without looking at him.

“Do you?” Remus countered. Something panicky was starting to buzz in the back of his brain and he tried to keep his breaths steady. Sirius wasn’t breaking up with him. They had only been married for a few months. Things were really, really good—as far as he knew, they were both happier than they had ever been.

Sirius sighed through his nose. “I don’t know.”

“What?” Remus sat up against the headboard, wide awake. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I—” Sirius shifted to sit up as well and crossed his legs. “I don’t know! People usually date for a lot longer than a year and a half before getting married, right?”

“We’ve known each other for seven years, Sirius.”

“Yes, and I love you, and you’re wonderful, but everything happened so fast.”

Remus wasn’t sure if his heart was trying to crawl out of his chest or dissolve into a puddle of pain. “Are you—Sirius, are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” Sirius said immediately. “I just said I love you, what the hell?”

“People can love each other and still break up!”

Sirius grabbed his hands, holding tight even when Remus tried to pull back and let his panic overtake him. Grey eyes locked on his, as solemn as he had ever seen them. “I’m not breaking up with you, Remus.” The clock on the nightstand beeped midnight and Sirius pressed his lips together. “We have early practice.”

“We need to talk.”

“We need to sleep.”

“Promise we’ll talk tomorrow, then.” We need to talk right now, actually.

Sirius squeezed his hands and kissed his cheek. His cheek. “I promise.”

Remus didn’t sleep much that night. His cheek burned with the memory of Sirius’ lips.

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

Their morning routine was stilted and quiet. Practice was awkward, and though neither of them let the previous night’s events influence their performance, he knew the tension was palpable. “Y’all good?” Leo asked under his breath as Remus filled his waterbottle up.

“We’re fine,” he answered, exhausted.

“Loops—”

“Stay in your lane, Knut.” He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his mouth—the kicked-puppy look on Leo’s face was more than enough to make guilt spike up—but he kept on moving down the hall and tried to wash the bitter taste from his mouth.

The ride home was worlds worse than he could have expected. Sirius turned the radio off the moment it started to play and kept his eyes firmly on the windshield the entire time, tapping his thumb against the wheel in the tic that always appeared when he was nervous. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help us fix whatever’s going on.” Remus wasn’t angry, per say, but he was really fucking frustrated with Sirius’ sudden inability to communicate. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Sirius chewed the edge of his lip. “I was just thinking.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. “Wow, thank you for that incredibly helpful information,” Remus said sarcastically when it became clear he wasn’t going to continue.

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Sirius muttered.

“I’m not trying to be mean—”

“Well, you kind of were—”

“Then maybe you should talk about your problems for once!” Remus snapped before he could shove it back down. Sirius’ jaw clenched. “If we’re going to work through this, then you have to tell me what the hell happened to make you so worried and upset. Do you regret getting married to me?”

The response was immediate. “No.”

“Thank you.” He leaned his head back against the seat rest and closed his eyes. “Thank you, that was what I needed to hear.”

“Do you think we moved too fast?”

Remus scrubbed a hand over his face. “I used to. I don’t, anymore. There’s no rulebook for any of this. How long have you been thinking about that?”

Sirius started tapping the wheel again. “A couple weeks.”

He may as well have opened the passenger door and booted Remus from the car. A breath punched out of his lungs. “A couple weeks?” he whispered. The world was spinning, the floor was open, hell itself was coming to swallow him up. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured it was normal marriage stuff. That it would pass.”

“Oh my god.”

“I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.”

“And I do?” Remus said incredulously. “News flash: this is the first time I’ve ever been married, too!”

“Please don’t be angry.”

“Being married means you share things, Sirius, not keep them bottled up for two weeks! Especially when they concern the other person!”

Something stormy came over his face. “Oh, really? So when were you planning on talking to me about the fact that you haven’t slept in six days?”

“I literally sleep next to you!”

“You toss and turn all night, and then you get up and run drills for an hour before coming back to bed. Every time I ask how you slept, you lie to my face, Remus. That’s not okay.”

Remus was speechless. He had done everything he could think of to be quiet and careful so Sirius wouldn’t know. “I…”

Sirius glanced over at him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Be an adult. Be an adult. You’re married. Be an adult. “I’m still worried about catching up to the team.”

“I figured. We’ve talked about this before, Re, it’s not safe for you to do that to yourself—”

“You don’t get it!” Sirius pulled into their driveway and turned the car off. “You have no idea how it feels to constantly be catching up to people! I’m fine, it’s not like I’m doing any damage!”

“I’m sorry, did you forget who you’re talking to?”

Remus clenched his teeth and got out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the backseat before slamming the door. He felt a little guilty—the rising memories of hushed confessions of hours of exercise to his father’s whistle meant Sirius understood better than anyone. Then the front door closed behind them both and the indignance on Sirius’ face sent his temper flaring up again. “You never bother to talk to me about anything that’s going on with you, so why should I even try?”

“What happened to ‘marriage is a partnership’?” Sirius followed him into the kitchen. “Have we moved on to the hypocrite stage yet or are we still clearing the air where nothing ever gets solved?”

Remus reeled back like he’d been slapped. “Fucking excuse me?”

“Every time we fight, you start all sarcastic and defensive, and then you get preachy like you’re reading something out of a fucking self-help book!” Sirius ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, Remus, it feels like I’m talking to a therapist instead of my partner!”

“Husband!” The ring on his finger had always been a comfort instead of a lead weight. “You can’t even say it?”

“I don’t regret marrying you!

“Then why are you so upset about us being married young?!”

“Because it’ll fall apart!” Sirius shouted back. “We’re going to be insufferably happy for a while, and then somewhere along the line we’re going to hate each other, and then it’ll be cold looks when we pass and different beds and all our friends will have to pick sides because we can’t stand to be in the same room together!”

“If you’re so sure about that, then why are you trying to fucking hard to keep us together?” Remus’ heart pounded like he’d run a marathon. Hearing his own fears thrown in his face was the most terrifying thing he had ever experienced.

“Because I love you.” Sirius’ voice broke. They were on opposite sides of the kitchen island, but Remus could see the pain on his face. “I love you, and I don’t want some—some impulsive decision to ruin that forever.”

“I love you, too.” Tears clogged the back of Remus’ throat. So stop pushing me away.

“Then I’ll be at Dumo’s.”

Remus nodded silently as Sirius walked past him toward the stairs; the moment he was out of sight, he headed into the downstairs bathroom and sat down with his back to the closed door, burying his face in his forearms. There was a rustle outside, and the front door closed with a click.

It wasn’t until his face itched with drying tears that he remembered Hattie. Guilt and panic stabbed through him and he scrambled back out, sprinting to her bed and then to the backyard. “Hattie?” he called, frantic with worry. “Hattie, c’mere!”

He closed his eyes and thought back to the events of the day. They had left her in the house for practice, and he vaguely remembered hearing her in the other room while they were fighting, and when Sirius left—

“Oh, you bastard,” he said aloud. The rustling of Sirius grabbing his duffel and whatever else he packed had been accompanied by the pattering of Hattie’s paws. “You took our fucking dog.”

Part of him was grateful that at least somebody had remembered their baby. The other part was absolutely furious. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a few deep breaths as the tone played. “Hello?”

“Can you pick me up?”

“Re, are you okay?”

“Not really. Can you pick me up?”

Concern dripped from Lily’s voice. “Where are you?”

“At home.”

“…where’s Sirius?”

“At Dumo’s.”

“I’m on my way.”

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

Harry Potter had been alive for less than two years, and he had been cried on by about half the Lions. Finn had started referring to him as ‘therapy baby’, and Remus was inclined to agree—it was hard to feel anything extreme when he was holding the pudgy little angel to his chest.

“So you fought?” Lily asked gently from the armchair across from him. Remus nodded. The whole story had spilled out in a gross mess of sobbing and baby snuggles until he laid down on his back, holding Harry to his chest as he dozed.

“I feel like an idiot,” he said miserably.

“Don’t.”

“It was awful.”

“I bet.”

Remus sniffled and kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Thank you for getting me. I didn’t want to be there alone.”

“I’m glad you called.” She took a sip of tea and gave him a look that he never liked. “Re, can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“I was kind of waiting for this to happen.” At his stricken expression, she folded her hands around the sides of her mug. “I don’t think you got married too early, because neither of you do big things like that on impulse and you love each other so much. However, I do think that you have a habit of trying to protect each other from the shit you carry with you. James did the same thing to me, and it sucked.”

“It does suck,” Remus agreed. “I hate the thought that he can’t trust me.”

Lily held her finger up and shook her head. “Nope. It’s not an issue of trust, is it? Why didn’t you tell Sirius that you were having trouble sleeping?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry h—oh.” Harry wiggled around for a moment and Remus adjusted himself so he was leaning on the armrest. “I think I get it now.”

“You guys need to talk about that at some point or it’s going to keep coming up.”

“Is that what you and James did?”

“No, we let it fester for, like, a year and then broke up for two weeks.”

Remus made a sympathetic face. “I forgot about that part. I should call him, huh?”

Lily shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“I want to apologize,” he said carefully. The sore spot in his heart and chest still twinged. “But I’m still really upset. And hurt. And a little angry? Mostly worried. There’s so much happening, I just want to hold your baby.”

“Go for it, he’s having a blast. Lover?”

There was a shuffling sound from the other room before James appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”

Remus snorted. “Simp.”

“Yes, and? What’s up, darling?”

“Can I have some more tea?” She batted her eyelashes at him with a dimpled smile and he sighed, then took her mug with him into the kitchen.

“You only love me for my kettle!” he called over his shoulder with a grin.

“Maybe!”

Remus turned his head to look at Lily while he ran a hand over Harry’s back. “Lils?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I preachy when I’m upset?”

She frowned. “What?”

“Preachy. Like—like I’m reading out of a self-help book.”

With a heavy sigh, she stood up and walked to the couch, leaning over the armrest to kiss his forehead. “No, Re, you’re not preachy. You like being right, but you’re not preachy.”

“Sirius thinks we’ll end up like his parents.”

“I’m not surprised about that, either.” She brushed his messy hair off his forehead and braided a small strand along the front, then gave it a little tug. “Guest bedroom’s yours for as long as you need it, okay?”

“That might be a while.”

She shook her head and patted his shoulder. “It won’t.”

“Could be.”

“Remus.”

“Sorry. Sleep well, Lils.” He sat up slightly and covered Harry’s ears. “And you, eavesdropper!”

“Love you!” James laughed from the other room. Lily picked the sleepy baby up and ushered Remus into the guest room with a final ‘goodnight’.

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

“Am I an idiot?” Sirius asked.

The bed creaked as Dumo readjusted his legs. “No, mon fils, you’re not an idiot. You are a young man going through his first marriage spat.”

“I hate it. I hate it. I said horrible things to him.”

“It sounds like you’re both to blame.”

“No, I brought it up first.” Dumo huffed, and he let out a slow exhale into the pillow. “Okay, maybe—maybe we were both in the wrong.”

“Fights are rarely one-sided. You have a visitor.”

Something cold prodded Sirius’ ear and he groaned, then curled on his side to let Hattie onto the covers next to him. “Bonjour, sweet girl. Thank you for the cuddles.”

She licked his nose and he smiled, petting the velvety top of her head. “Are you staying here tonight?”

“I was thinking about it. Re’s got the house to himself for a bit, then, and he knows I’m here.”

“I’m glad you’re taking the time to calm down a bit,” Dumo said as he stood with a final ruffle of Sirius’ hair. “That’s a wise decision. Bonne nuit.”

Sirius mumbled a response and made more room for Hattie, then settled in for a restless night. He never wanted to sleep alone again.

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

By some miracle, practice was more bearable the second day. Remus still ached somewhere deep inside, but it wasn’t like he had anything else left to suppress. Seeing Sirius was a relief; it surprised him at first, considering the explosive nature of the previous evening, before sliding into something that soothed him. If he could still find peace in Sirius after all that, they would be okay.

He knocked lightly on the side of Sirius’ stall after he returned from the shower. “Knock, knock. Ca—”

“Who’s there?”

Remus’ heart stuttered as Sirius looked up at him from the bench with an apologetic tilt to his mouth. Something clicked into place. “Can I get a ride?”

“ ‘course you can.” Sirius stood up just as Remus stepped forward, and they met in the middle for a tight hug. He tucked his face into the dip of Sirius’ collarbone and breathed in his shower-fresh smell, as well as the trace of laundry detergent from his shirt.

“Love you,” he murmured.

“Let’s go, mon loup.” Sirius pressed a kiss to his hair and they headed out toward the parking lot together; Remus caught Leo’s eye and saw him smile.

“How’s Dumo doing?” Remus asked as they turned out of the parking lot. Start slow, start easy. “Did you drop Hattie off at home before you came to practice?”

“Yeah, I did. He’s good, and Celeste sent me back with some brownies.”

Remus tentatively reached over and rested his hand on the side of Sirius’ thigh—his chest visibly caught before he relaxed into it and reached down to put his own overtop. “Harry’s doing well. Lily says he’s almost started running.”

“Did you go see them?”

“Stayed at their place last night.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It felt weird being there by myself.”

“Re—”

“I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out in a rush, despite his best efforts to keep it in until they reached home. “I’m sorry for everything I said to you, and especially for how I said it. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about how I was feeling, too. It should never have gotten to that point.”

“Apology accepted.” Sirius sounded a little choked up. “I don’t think we got married too soon, if that means anything.”

“Of course it means something,” Remus half-laughed as he wiped the dampness from the corners of his eyes. “It means everything.”

“I thought it might be too late.”

“Can you pull over for a second?” Sirius obliged, and as soon as he turned the car off, Remus turned to face him. He linked their hands, making sure Sirius was looking into his eyes. “It is never too late to talk to me, okay? I’m sorry if I ever made you think that it was.”

Sirius unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over for a brief kiss that sent bubbling warmth throughout Remus’ entire body. “I’m so, so sorry for yelling at you. And for keeping everything in, even though we both promised to stop doing that. All that shit I said, it—it wasn’t true, Re, and I wasn’t thinking.”

Remus rested their foreheads together and wound his fingers in the short curls fanning Sirius’ face. “Honey, we’re not your parents.”

Sirius swallowed hard. “I know.”

“So you don’t have to be afraid that we’re going to hate each other out of the blue, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If—” His mouth went a little dry and he faltered. “If you want to take a break, or take things slower, I totally respect—”

“Nope, no, no, no,” Sirius interrupted, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him in for another fervent kiss. “I love you. I’m happy with you. I let my head get away from me, and I’m sorry.”

“All’s forgiven, love.” They sat in silence for a minute longer as Sirius traced his jawline. “Let’s go home.”

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

Sirius woke up in bed alone, which would have scared him if he didn’t know exactly where his husband was. He smiled to himself and got out of bed, grabbing a hoodie off their dresser before heading downstairs.

The kitchen light was on and music played quietly from Remus’ phone over the sound of running water. “You’re up late,” he said casually from the doorway.

Remus almost dropped a pot. “Jesus Christ!”

“Just me.” Sirius wrapped his arms around his waist as he set the pot on the drying rack. “Stressed?”

“A little. I forgot to do these earlier and didn’t want to leave them overnight again.” Sirius hummed his agreement and rocked back and forth, then took Remus’ hand and spun him in a slow circle. “Oh, are we slow dancing to the Billboard Top 100 now?”

“Very romantic, I know,” Sirius laughed.

Remus shook his head with a wide grin as they swayed, much too slow for the actual song but absolutely perfect. He was beautiful in the low light of their kitchen, puffy eyes from and all. “You are ridiculous.”

I’m the luckiest person alive. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sirius leaned down for a series of quick kisses, pulling him in until their chests pressed together. Remus let go of his hand and draped both arms over his shoulders, tangling his hands in his hair. “I know we can’t exactly control it,” Sirius said against his lips. “But let’s never fight like that again.”

“Deal.”

233 notes · View notes

butwhyduh · 3 years

Note

Since you wrote Christmas with tha Bois are you planning on writing a New Years Eve fics too 🎇🎉?

*insert surprised pikachu meme*

now I am (!!!)

They are all required to go to a Wayne gala that Bruce has thrown since before he took Dick in as a ward. It’s important. So of course, I wanna show what kind of suits they would wear too. (Indulge me lmao) [none of these images are sensitive. Tumblr is an idiot]

Tim

Okay I get that you wouldn’t think high strung proper Tim Drake Wayne , Mr CEO, would were a pretty casual suit. But he wears a suit everyday and by golly, he isn’t wearing a tie for New Years freakin Eve. It’s something different and he can relax. And he’s so tired of black. Plus the blue brings brings out the color in his eyes.

—————

He adjusted the collar of his suit. He always wore a nice suit to work. But this was for a gala. The tie just wouldn’t lay flat. You walked up behind him and pulled the offensive fabric off and tossed it on the bed. He moved to protest but you started unbuttoning his collar.

“Okay,” he said with a slow smirk. “But it’ll have to be quick.”

“I’m just fixing your shirt,” you said rolling your eyes. “I’m not messing my makeup up before a gala. That looks nicer. I never see you relaxed,” you said leaving your hands on his chest longer than necessary.

“I relax sometimes. I’m relaxing tonight. With you,” he said turning to give you a quick kiss. You smiled and he took a look at your outfit. “I’ll have to keep my eye peeled though. You’re going to attract a lot of attention in that.”

“Too bad I’m already dating a man they couldn’t possibly compete with. Come on, lover boy,” you said and he took your hand before going downstairs.

It was always stressful to first go to a gala. Tim was moderately famous as Bruce Wayne’s heir, heir to the Drake family fortune, and the acting CEO of Wayne Enterprise. Luckily this was very boring to most young people and his pictures were in a small section of the business page of the papers rather than like Dick Grayson being splashed all over the lifestyle section like a celebrity. But cameras flashing as you walked down stairs in heels was terrifying. Tim was the only one to notice as you gripped his arm like a vice each time.

You could usually smile and drink champagne as Tim talked shop with the old men he worked with or young men who were trying to climb the business ladder. Tim’s fingers made idle circles in your hand or on your back as he talked. He was also taking glances at you in you outfit all evening.

Only when he was desperate for a break would he ask you to dance. Tim was a good dancer. He had been taught at an early age. But he was not a natural and he didn’t want you bothered with more photos. You insisted after a full hour of talking about some sort of quarterly investment opportunity that he take you to the dance floor.

“Dance with me, Timmy,” you asked quietly in a lull in the conversation. It was almost midnight anyways. He smiled at you before looking back at the men.

“Excuse us,” Tim said before letting you lead him to the floor. He gently held your waist and you wrapped your arms around his neck. The song was fairly slow so you barely danced more than a sway. That was fine. You were more interested in staring in to his ocean eyes than cutting a rug.

“Sorry if it’s been incredibly boring,” Tim said. “You’d probably rather be doing anything else.”

“Dancing is nice. Seeing you more than 5 minutes is nice,” you said.

“Speaking of 5 minutes, it’s 5 minutes until midnight.”

“No more work talk tonight. Just be with me,” you pleaded softly. Tim frowned for a second before pulling you closer.

“I can do that. All yours tonight. I’ll just punch anyone who tries to talk business to me,” he said.

“Good enthusiasm. Terrible plan. Sweet though,” you said kissing his cheek. He smiled.

“Or we could just leave right after New Years,” Tim said with a wiggle of his brows. You giggled.

“Better plan.”

Bruce had gotten on the stage and the music stopped. You didn’t let Tim go. As they counted down to midnight, you and Tim gazed at each other.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

You leaned your face up and kissed him. Tim held your waist tighter and your wrapped your fingers up in his soft black hair. After just a few seconds you pulled back and smiled at him.

“Happy New Years, sunshine,” he said.

“Happy New Years, Duckie.”

“Let’s get out of here before they see us leave,” he suggested. The rest of the night was spent in his room and you were so glad for the loud fireworks to cover any noise you might have made.

Dick

Dick has been to 714 galas. He’s an expert. He’s expected to play the handsome charming eldest son. Wearing a beautiful suit is half the battle. Not to mention, he kinda likes showing off a little. It’s New Years. And the blue and grey bring out the color in his eyes so well.

———————————

Dick barely got in the door before flopping on the bed with his detective uniform still on. You sat on the edge of your bed, already in hair, dress, and makeup, and reached over to rub his shoulders. He groaned softly.

Barely off of work and already having to change into a suit for a family event. Dick needed a day off. Badly. He had the next 3 days off of work and he just had to deal with this night. No, he needed to be positive. You hadn’t done anything and he didn’t want to ruin New Years Eve.

You pushed your palm into a knot on his shoulder. He all but moaned. “Thank you, baby,” he said. “It’s these stupid cases. They have been driving me- baby,” Dick said turning to look and taking you in. “You look good.”

You smiled and giggled. “You think?”

“Always, but this? Wowza,” he said laughing. “Im going be showing off the prettiest girl at the ball,” Dick said sing song. You rolled your eyes with a grin. His compliments were usually over the top.

“Yeah, yeah. Not likely. You need to get dressed or I’m going to be very fancy for no reason,” you said and he hopped up. Dick was overworked but he always was. In record time he was dressed.

“Do you want to drive,” he asked hopefully. A quick 30 minute nap would be awesome.

“I can’t drive the Porsche since it’s stick,” you admitted.

“Well in that case, I’m teaching you soon. But not tonight. You gotta learn how to drive my car,” Dick said and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You added that to the list of skills he thought completely necessary that hardly anyone could do anymore. Could you even buy a new standard transmission car?

“Sure, hun. Let’s get going before we’re late,” you said kissing his cheek. You straightened his pocket square and you were both out the door.

“-and then you push the clutch. Right here,” he pointed at the floorboard as he drove.

“Not tonight. We can do this some other time. And if we don’t get there, it’s fine,” you said evasively.

“Ever? It’s important to be able to drive any kind of car and if it’s just you and the Porsche,” Dick said with a frown. You could see a contingency plan forming in his head.

“I very much doubt there will be a situation where I have to drive your car,” you said with a shrug.

“I’d rather plan for it,” Dick said and you dropped it. It was like a security blanket for him to plan for anything.

Walking into a gala was exciting and nerve racking. Dick was extremely popular back in Gotham and it was honestly weird as he was normal back in Bludhaven. Dick was the perfect gentleman and made sure you felt comfortable and safe when the cameras flashed. You smiled and ignored whatever anyone said about you. It could be mean with jealousy. You were with him for his money, you were just arm candy, and you weren’t that pretty. The first time had hurt pretty badly. Now you had a new ring on your hand and you felt almost as nervous as your first gala. One through the door to the ballroom, you relaxed.

“Are you okay? You looked really nervous,” Dick said and you grimaced. That sounds like nice pictures.

“Just a little,” you said subconsciously playing with your ring. Dick, of course, noticed right away.

“What’s wrong? Do you not want the ring? Or the engagement,” he asked quietly and it broke your heart that he was even worried about it. His big blue eyes were wide with worry.

“Not at all,” you said grabbing his shoulder. “I just don’t like how they talk. I’m very happy. And I love the ring. It’s beautiful.”

Dick’s frown turned to a pleased smile. “Good. Because that was my mom’s ring.”

“Dick! You gave me a family heirloom without mentioning it? That makes it twice as special,” you said shocked. “Thats so sweet of you.”

You leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. “I love it. But if you give me something that important again without telling me, I’ll beat you,” you whispered in his ear and he laughed.

“Let’s dance,” Dick said. He pulled you to the dance floor. He was the best dancer out of all of the Wayne children and possibly better than Bruce. He had been dancing since he could walk. His parents were performers and taught him many dance styles. Bruce also insisted that all the children knowing all the common dances they would need to know at a gala.

Keeping up with Dick was the biggest issues with dancing. He could dance quick dances for hours and you had to remind him that not everyone spent hours a day training and fighting. At the moment you had insisted on stopping to get a drink. You practically pounded a water bottle while he sipped on some punch.

“Kinda floral. Not bad. Little sweet,” he said.

“It’s not alcoholic, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It’s just one glass,” Dick said. “I’ll be fine to drive later.”

“No. It’s just that Damian and his girlfriend have a cup each,” you said motioning over to them.

“It’s fine. They wouldn’t give them alcohol,” Dick said and you relaxed. Of course not. That would be crazy to give kids alcohol.

“Let’s sit down. My feet are getting a little tired,” you said with a wince. He nodded and you sat at a table by the dance floor. As if Dick had put out a sign, a bunch of people flocked over to talk to him.

Somehow a plate of small snacks ended up in front of you, probably Alfred. You ate a little while he played the philanthropist son of Bruce Wayne. It was actually really nice to be ignored.

Until it wasn’t.

An older Wayne investor brought a woman over as his ‘date.’ She instantly latched on to Dick and started flirting with him. Her hand kept touching his arms and shoulders. You were getting mad but this wasn’t a surprise. People acted like he was someone they could grope and touch without consequences.

Finally it was too much and you cleared your throat. She looked at you in disgust before going back to flirting with Dick.

“Can you give my fiancé some space,” you asked politely as you could. Her eyes raked over your body.

“He could do so much better than some poor trash like you in a second rate dress. Not even that ugly little ring could change that,” she said nastily. You gasped.

“Okay we’re leaving,” Dick said standing up. The woman had to back away from him. His jaw was clenched in controlled anger. He had a temper and this wasn’t the time to lose it.

You stood up and hissed as your shoes cut into your feet worse than when you had been wearing them all night. Great, you couldn’t even wear heels in front of her. She laughed. Dick simply picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the ballroom and upstairs to his old bedroom. He sat you on the bed gently.

You knew that she was just a vapid socialite but it did hurt. She had pretty accurately attacked your insecurities and you blinked to prevent yourself from crying.

“Baby,” Dick said bending to a crouch in front of you. “Don’t think anything about what she said. She’s just jealous. Not worth your time.”

“She’s not wrong though. I’m just a poor kid trying to fit in in Wayne freaking Manor,” you said wiping your face. Stupid tears.

“And I’m just a circus kid. Don’t forget that,” Dick said sitting beside you. He pulled you into a hug. “Not a single damn bit of that matters. It’s almost midnight in a minute. Do you want to go back downstairs?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a dry smile.

“I figure. We have a better view anyways,” he said opening the curtains. You could vaguely hear the noise downstairs.

3-2-1

🎆🎇

“Happy New Years, baby,” Dick said giving you a kiss. He wiped the tears from your cheek.

“Happy New Years. Sorry I’m all teary,” you said.

“Nope. Don’t be sorry. My new New Years resolution is to make you smile,” he said with a devious look. His fingers suddenly attacked your sides and pulled laughter from you. He pushed you to the bed in his attack.

“Dick! Okay! Quit!” You shrieked with laughter. He stopped his hands and leaned over you.

“Alright. I quit. But since we’re alone. Wanna ring in the New Years the right way,” he asked with a smirk. You grinned back.

“Got any ideas on how to do that?” You asked back.

“So many. Baby, so many,” before kissing you. Fireworks sounded in the background.

Damian

(Older 16 yr old) Damian is literally the son of Batman. He’s going to dress like it. Nice and formal and expensive. It was like a form of armor. Homeboy looks like a million bucks. His watch might be. And if a burgundy turtleneck A accents his well defined pecs, B shows the gold in his tan skin, and C the gorgeous green in his eyes, he ain’t complaining.

“Beloved,” Damian said pulling on his jacket. “Come out,” he said in a sing song voice that would have been completely foreign to hear to anyone else but you.

You flushed as you came out. His jaw dropped before he quickly straightened his face. He’d taken the risk of buying you a dress for the party. He’d seen Bruce do it for women all the time. It was practically his calling card. Even Dick had done it a few times. But this was a first for Damian.

“You look very nice. Beautiful,” he said quietly looking away at his cuff links. “Are you ready to go downstairs?”

“Just my shoes,” you said, trying to slip them on and almost falling over. Damian quickly grabbed your waist.

“I got you. I can put them on,” he said kneeling to the ground. He hadn’t meant anything besides efficiency with his offer. But as he slid your foot into a heel and strapped it across your ankle, it felt far more intimate. His hand held your calf a little longer than necessary before switching to the other foot. This side had a slit up to your thigh and he could see your bare leg up close. Damian gulped before attaching the shoe. He quickly stood up and cleared his throat.

“Are you ready now?”

You nodded. He offered his arm and you went downstairs. Cameras flashed for just a few minutes before Damian skillfully steered you away from them. His father would kill any pictures of you before they got to the papers but Damian knew how much you hated them.

“Dance with me?” You asked and he happily complied. He had been trained in several dance styles and was good at it. He also enjoyed the way you would smile when he would spin you. If it made his beloved happy, he was happy. It attracted a little attention. Bruce Wayne’s teenage son and his date could dance with skill. This too was only viewable in person.

“Let’s get a drink,” Damian said pulling you to the refreshments. You were out of breath but happy and followed him. There was suppose to be people handling the drinks but there were so many people. Damian pushed through and grabbed two drinks and handed one to you.

“Let’s find a table,” you said. As always, Damian pulled you along to a secluded corner close to the door to the garden. Cold air and little whiffs of cigarette smoke swirled around but at least you weren’t in the overheated body filled floor anymore.

You sat and drank at your punch. It was heavily sweetened and floral. It was refreshing and... warm. You waved at yourself.

“Is it hot in here to you?” You asked Damian.

“Want to go for a walk outside? It’s cooler out there,” he suggested. Damian took your arm again and you walked out the door into the garden. A stone path lined little beds of delicate plants. Topiaries lined the path. Small solar lights and the full moon lit the garden. There were a few people walking but not many.

Damian looked so handsome. Long dark lashes frames his bright green eyes. His skin almost glistened with silver light of the moon. He bent and plucked a flower from a bush. Damian tucked it behind you ear with a little smile.

“The prettiest rose in all the garden,” he said and you smiled shyly.

“I don’t think that’s actually a rose though,” you said and he laughed. A rare occurrence.

“It’s not. But I was talking about you. May I kiss you,” he said lightly touching the side of your neck with his hand. You nodded and he leaned down. You closed your eyes and his lips brushed against yours. You pressed a hand against his chest.

Damian’s hand slid to the back of your neck to hold you as he pressed harder against your mouth. His tongue slipped in your mouth and you made the softest whimpering sound. Damian’s eyes flew open and he almost froze. That was new and he could get used to the pretty sound.

You kissed like this for a little while. Damian’s hand slid down to hold your waist when he noticed you shivered. He pulled back.

“Beloved, are you cold,” he asked, cursing himself. Of course, you were cold wearing a thin dress while he was in a full suit. He quickly pulled off his jacket and put it around your shoulders.

“Just a little. It’s fine,” you protested. He insisted on sliding your arms in the sleeves and button the jacket.

“Let’s go in. It’s close to midnight anyways,” Damian said giving you one last kiss.

3-2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years beloved,” he said with a kiss. Damian had grabbed another two glasses of punch and you two touched them in cheers.

“No sir,” Alfred said sternly, taking the glasses from your hands. “No alcohol for either of you. There is juice on the other side of the table.”

You waited until Alfred walked away before laughing. “They should have labeled that better.”

“That explains why it felt overly warm in here earlier,” Damian said thoughtfully.

The music had changed to overly sappy and people were kissing and dancing far too close. They were feeling the effects of the alcohol they had been drinking all night. Damian looked at them in disgust.

“Want to go upstairs,” he asked. You quickly looked at him. “Not like that. We can watch a movie or something, anything away from this.”

“Sounds great,” you said and you both left.

Jason

I’m fairly certain I’ve seen him in a suit like this in the comics. I considered him saying FU to Bruce and showing up in boots and black leather jacket. But Jason knows he looks good in red. And he’d probably get a kick out of wearing one of his suits he wore as Red Hood to a fucking gala. Bruce would know.

—————————

“Princess, if you make me wait any longer I’ll kick down the door and physically carry you to the damn party,” Jason said with no malice in his voice. You opened the bathroom door.

“Not all of us look good without a little work,” you said playfully tapping his chest. You yanked his tie straight with a little more force than needed.

“I’d have to disagree, doll. I’d honestly prefer you in nothing,” he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes.

“How does it look?” You said with a twirl.

“Like a million bucks. That ass. Let’s skip the party and-“

“No no no. Let’s get going. You can be handsy later,” you said grabbing your purse.

“Promise,” he asked as you both left. The roads weren’t too bad with ice and in fact, it was going to be a rare dry night in Gotham.

Jason didn’t do pictures. He hated them and so you both parked in the servant entrance and walked in a side door. It didn’t matter. The Manor was beautiful no matter how you looked at it. And being a poor kid from Gotham, you couldn’t believe you were actually at a party in Wayne freaking Manor.

“Don’t be nervous. It’s just a bunch of shitty rich people in pretty walls. They aren’t any better than us. Hell, worth half of you, sweetheart. Let’s get a drink,” he said pulling you to the drink table. It was pretty packed but he muscled through to the front. He got your preferred drink. “And a whiskey on the rocks.”

“Don’t get drunk,” you whispered to him. “I won’t sleep with you drunk.”

“With a finger of water,” Jason added to the bartender who nodded.

“Good save,” you said turning to look at the floor. You sipped your drink and people watched.

Dick and his date were dancing some quick steps in the middle of the floor. No surprise there. Tim was talking to boring business men and his poor date looked absolutely bored on her feet. Alfred was watching Damian and his date from the corner of his eyes whereas Damian seemed completely oblivious with his eyes on her all night. And Bruce was currently heavily flirting with a woman who literally meowed at him. You resisted the urge to gag and turned back to Jason.

“Wanna dance,” Jason asked casually watching the floor. But you knew he wanted to dance because he asked.

“Yeah,” you said grabbing his hand. He pulled to to the floor. Jason was also trained to dance as all the Wayne boys had been. But he was probably the worst dancer out of all of them. His parents had never taught him anything as nice as dancing and he’d only lived with Bruce for a few years before the whole Joker thing. But Jason was a natural athlete and his dancing was still pretty darn good.

The dance was a bit slower than the one Dick and his date had been dancing to earlier. Jason held one hand on your waist and the other stayed in your hand. His dancing was visibly polite and innocent. The words he whispered in your ear were far from.

“Is it hard being the hottest woman here? This dress on your ass is fucking delicious,” he whispered and you flushed at his words. “I can’t wait to fuck you in it later.”

He really enjoyed saying things that were completely naughty in public where you could do nothing about it. But you knew that if he kept it up, you’d be finding a spare room before New Years even came. And you didn’t want to miss the fireworks again this year.

As the song ended, and you thoroughly turned on and scandalized, you asked him to walk in the garden with you. Lover boy needed something to cool him down.

“Sure, Princess,” he said snagging 2 glasses of punch on the way out. You both walked between the flower beds and he told you stories of things that had happened there. “And that’s when Dick accidentally cut the top foot off of this bush. Alfred had him scrubbing floors for a month,” Jason said with a laugh. “It was so bad that there is still a rule of no swords in the garden. Damian hates it.”

“I bet he does. But he could probably destroy the entire garden with a pocket knife,” you said with a laugh. Jason suddenly pulled you to the side with a hush. He motioned over a ways.

“Speaking of the kid, look over there,” Jason whispered. You looked over to see Damian making out with a girl his age. It was so weird to see him being so sweet. “I didn’t know he felt human emotion, much less find someone his age to makeout with.”

“They could have said that about you a few years ago,” you said slyly.

“Yeah, point taken. Want the best view of the fireworks?” Jason said.

“Where?”

“Top of the roof.”

You blanched at the idea. “No thanks. I choose life.”

“It’s safe. There’s a ladder and everything,” Jason said hugging you from behind. “Best view in the house. And if not, dinners on me.”

“Jay, you get the check every time,” you reminded him. He chuckled.

“Maybe I’m just trying to get a pretty girl alone to give her a kiss,” Jason said pulling you to the roof. You flushed. “Unlike demon boy making out in the garden. I have class.”

“You’re a classy lady. Show me the way before I change my mind,” you said. He took you to a ladder over the library. You pulled off your heels and started climbing.

“Don’t worry I’ll catch you you if you fall Princess. I’m right behind you. Did I mention your ass in this dress? I kinda have the perfect view,” he said. You rolled your eyes before throwing your leg over the side of the roof. Jason quickly followed you.

“Here, wear my jacket,” Jason said throwing the red blazer over your shoulder.

“Oo my knife now,” you said feeling in his pocket and pulling out a sizable switchblade.

“I forgot to take it out of there. I wouldn’t touch it too much,” Jason said taking it out of your hands with a grimace. You gave him a look.

“That’s incredibly gross. Seriously. Do I even want to know?”

“Not really. Look at the stars. You can see them through the shitty Gotham sky,” Jason said sitting on a box. He pulled you into his lap and you were grateful as it was really quite cold. You could see some stars and you leaned your back against his chest and looked up at the heavens for a few minutes.

The music stopped downstairs. It must be almost midnight. You couldn’t understand but you heard Bruce talk over a mic. Then everyone started counting.

3–2-1

🎇🎆

“Happy New Years, Jaybird,” you said turning your head and holding Jason’s jaw. You leaned your head up and gave him a kiss. He held you close and you made out until the sound of a firework had you jumping. You laughed before turning to look. The roof really did have the best view.

After a few minutes of watching the fireworks you heard some lewd noises. Jason looked over at a window near your spot.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said with a disgusted look. “That’s fucking Tim’s room and the sound of him getting laid is literally the last thing I want. What I do want is to take a bite out of that ass I’ve been looking at all night.”

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draco-tyler-mikes-paramour · 3 years

Note

congrats for 300 followers! can I request a 🖤 with draco they have a sort of arrangement where everyday after work he goes to her house eats her out and have sex and then he leaves. they never talk but are catching feelings so one day when he comes as usual. Instead of him going down on her she gives him head and asks him to stay the night when they talk and finally confess?

This description is dirty af.....i love that😉

What you don’t know can’t hurt you

You never expected that after the war the person who helped you forget about the painful memories was the one and only Draco Malfoy.

You had spoken a few times, nothing serious. It was evident that you were both attractive people and there was a mutual awareness of that. Nothing really happened until after the war when school ended. Both of you were left broken and sad, ending up at the 3 broomsticks and then fucking back at yours an hour and a half later after at least 4 drinks about 6 weeks since you’d left hogwarts.

Draco had a job as an auror and you were a healer. Your arrangement was simple. He enjoyed going down on you much to your delight, and sex. But he never gave you the opportunity to do oral on him. Being the gracious person that you are, you wanted to return the favour but no. Because then it was over and he’d leave.

This had been going on for 6 months straight. You and him both trying to find some kind of release and comfort. The only issue was that you both became absolutely head over heels for each other but you had a fear of messing things up and ruining your arrangement which stopped your confessions of love. He longed for you, silently pining in desperation for one of you to just say something. Whereas you thought he just needed someone to use to fulfill his sex life, like his own personal fucktoy. Not that you minded but it did make you feel like shit after he left.

However, would you even call Draco your friend? Or was he just a lover..a regular hookup? you weren’t sure but you wanted more than oral and sex. It was mind-blowing but there was not much interaction though just whining of names, moaning and curse words. Even when you’d see each other in the street or at gatherings, you’d exchange the soft hello and not say a word to each other for the rest of the night but would probably leave together to go and fuck at yours.

Tonight was the same weekday routine. You finished your shift at St. Mungos before coming into your apartment in Godric’s Hollow. You got undressed had a shower and put a robe on before sitting on your couch with a mug of tea practically waiting for the boy you loved to knock on the door. And he did.

You swung the door open to see Draco looking rather upset. ‘You alright?’ you asked. He nodded before entering the room and you swiftly shut the door. He placed his work bag down before turning around and immediately placing his lips on yours. You became dizzy and light headed from the emotion he was pouring into the kiss. He must’ve had a really bad day you thought. He picked you up and pinned you against the door, lips never leaving yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you submitted full control to him, the bottom of your robe hiking up around your legs almost exposing you bare as his hand travelled along your thigh.

Draco carried you to the bedroom like it was second nature and laid you down on the bed. He began to kiss down your neck as per usual trailing down to your panties. You really wanted to give him full pleasure tonight so you stopped him at your navel by tapping him on the shoulder. ‘Could we switch tonight? maybe i go down on you instead?’ you bit your lip nervous at his reponse. He gave a small smile ‘If you want.’

You smirked and flipped you both over so that he was against the bed lying down. You slowly and teasingly removed your robe. Draco’s icy eyes were over taken by his pupils and his lips parted at the sight of your beautiful naked body. You removed his shirt before sinking to your knees, on the carpet, below the bed and began unbuckling his belt. You took of his trousers and boxers in one swift movement so that he too was now naked. Draco’s dick was prominently standing up against his stomach when you then slowly wrapped your hand around his length and licked up from the base to his tip.

He threw his head back and moaned ‘Oh god y/n, good girl’ this encouraged you to slip your lips around him and slide his cock in and out of your mouth. Draco kept moaning, grunting and swearing as you explored different pressures and boundaries. ‘Fucking hell..i’m gonna-.’ he said as you took him all in and sucked lightly. He gave a long low moan as he came in your mouth and you swallowed every bit of it.

you came up to kiss him which he gladly accepted and flipped the dynamic again with him on top. he pressed your hips into the mattress as he slotted his body in between your legs whilst his mouth was still on yours. He looked at you with an expression you’d never quite seen before. It was soft, curious and lustful almost bordeline loving. He then looked at you as to say ready?

you nodded and smiled before feeling the tip of his cock rub against your clit making you moan softly. Immediately after, you felt what you had been waiting for. Draco. His dick entered you slowly and he set a slow pace. He put his head in the crook of your neck and began kissing and panting. The pressure of the pleasure was too much for you both. The slow pace was absolutely fucking heaven. You were both on cloud 9, involuntarily clenching around him with every thrust. This was not sex, he was making love to you.

‘Oh Draco. Yes...yes..more.’ you whined. He moved his head to suck on your tits as he was fucking into you. That was what pushed you over the edge and you screamed out a string of expletives along with draco’s name as you orgasmed and clenched around his cock. Seconds later he met with his own release cumming inside you, pulling you into a kiss as he came.

Draco slumped on top of you waiting to catch his breath. You knew it would be about another 30 seconds before he got up dressed himself and left. Just as you predicted he stood up, out of the bed and went to the carpet where his clothes were and began to put his trousers back on. No you thought you couldn’t go on like this any longer.

Before your brain could even stop you the word fell out. ‘Stay’ you said, terrified. He blinked and look at the ground and then back up at you and it was simply ‘Okay, sure.’ He removed his trousers being naked once more and climbed back into your bed with you. Draco’s arms instantly came around your waist and you put your leg across his stomach, rested your head on his chest and put your arm across too. You were cuddling Draco Malfoy post-sex.....this does not happen ever **The beautiful boy laid there looking up the at ceiling as you just looked at him

Your eyes finally met ‘You know, we don’t actually speak very much, if at all. Everytime we see each other we say hi but then we don’t talk.’ Draco pursed his lips ‘I don’t know how to speak to people. Especially if i’m fucking them.’ you looked at him confused ‘But the only person you’ve been fucking for the last 6 months is me and when we were in school it was pansy in 5th year and you spoke to her ’ he nodded ‘I know but she was terrible and I didn’t and don’t even like her. It’s just different with you.’

you removed yourself from him and sat up and furrowed your brows ‘Why? Because I’m worse?’ he sat up also and put his hand on the small of your back ‘Merlin, no you’re the best I’ve ever had. But it’s not because of any of that.’ you looked at him even more puzzled ‘Then why?’ you questioned again. He sighed before looking down ‘I love you.’ he admitted. Your eyes widened ‘What?’

Draco frowned ‘Im sorry. I do. I love you. I see you at gatherings laughing so carelessly with your friends and I wish it was me making you laugh. I time exactly when I’ll get to yours so that i know you’ve had enough time to get ready and settled before i come over. I know that you have green tea always and you enjoy watching the rain and having baths. You hate anything orange flavoured and you like muggle TV for who knows why. I know a lot more than you think I do because I want be the person who you feel like home with because I love you and i’ve just ruined everything.’ he put his head in his hands.

You carefully took his hands away taking in his broken hearted expression ‘I love you too Draco. So much’ you held your hands in his. He gazed at you in shock before tackling to you to the bed and kissing you. ‘So how about we get to know each other a little better?’ you suggested ‘Like a date night?’ he beamed. You laughed ‘Yes but right now I had more of a ‘round two’ situation in mind considering our current state.’ you looked between you two to see that you were still both naked.

He smirked ‘Read my mind Y/l/n.’ You kissed him again ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you more.’ he said

well....thank you anon. I enjoyed writing this far too much 😁

#draco fanfiction #draco fluff #draco imagine #draco angst #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco smut #draco lucius malfoy #draco series

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

Town council Hermann vs Alien Conspiracy Newt please!!!

THIS WAS FUN!!! inspired both by this tweet and conversations abt a newt/herm AU of that tweet with @k-sci-janitor (who also thought of the funniest sign newt made in this fic, aka the cheekbones one, and what his tats should look like). this is long sorry :/ gets a little spicy towards the end but nothing worse than a high pg13/light M

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

The evening of the weekly town council meeting, it pours like nothing else. Which Hermann figures is really quite appropriate. Loathe as he is to soak his trouser legs, trudge through the mud that used to be his front walk, and hold his umbrella for so long his arm aches (for the community center is a mere half-mile walk away that Hermann can't justify substituting with a bus), he can't imagine council meetings happening in any other sort of weather. In fact, they rarely tend to; their dreariness seems to be a necessity, part of the preparation, as if to put everyone in as miserable a mood as possible.

Hermann hates council meetings. He supposes he'd be more sympathetic towards the plights of his constituents—if one can call one's neighbors constituents—if he'd wanted the damned job in the first place. As it is, he feels a bit like he was conned into it. Hermann had been a lowly physics professor at the local community college, passionate about public education and funding for public education and all those proper sorts of things an educator ought to be concerned about, when he suddenly found himself seized with the idea of making a difference. So he ran for a head position on the council. And he won it. Only no one told him that the council deals a lot less with public education and a lot more with noise complaints, cul-de-sac bake sales, and raccoons in dustbins, which makes why he ran completely unopposed all the more obvious.

A fat raindrop explodes against the edge of Hermann's umbrella and splashes his glasses. Hermann grits his teeth and wipes them dry with the cuff of his sweater. Bloody meeting; bloody rain; Hermann just wants to go back home, and fix up a nice pot of herbal tea, and set a blanket in the dryer for ten minutes, and...

"Dr. Gottlieb! Hey, Dr. Gottlieb, wait—!"

A blur in an oversized yellow raincoat hurdles itself at Hermann from the stairs of the community center. Hermann considers pretending he is a different Dr. Gottlieb, one who certainly has no reason to know maniacs in raincoats, or maybe high-tailing it in the other direction. This is the other reason why Hermann loathes council meetings: Newton Geiszler.

The unfortunate thing is that Newton Geiszler was, at one point, a respectable academic type, and in fact one of Hermann's own colleagues at the community college. (Hermann only found this out after the fact—he does not make a habit of intermingling much with the biology department.) And Hermann does mean was. Around a year ago, Geiszler was asked to temporarily step down from his position after he suddenly and unexpectedly went off the deep end. He has not been asked to come back yet. And not without reason. "Dr. Geiszler," Hermann sighs. "I've asked you not to lurk about here like that. It's...unsettling."

"Sorry, man, sorry," Geiszler shouts. He stomps over and makes himself at home under Hermann's umbrella. Hermann's not sure how he's been managing to see anything, let alone Hermann approaching down the sidewalk: his glasses are completely fogged-up and rain-splattered. "Do you mind if—thanks, dude."

Geiszler flips his hood down. He’s short, only coming up to Hermann's nose, with stubble nearly overgrown to a full beard and a mess of wet brown hair. He shakes that hair now, like a dog, soaking Hermann in the process. Hermann growls. "I beg your pardon,” he says.

"Oops,” Geiszler says. “Sorry. Anyway, Dr. Gottlieb, I'm really glad I caught you, there are—there are some things I wanted to tell you about. Before the meeting. They're—hold on." He rummages around in the deep pockets of his raincoat and produces a damp notebook, which he begins to flip through frantically. "It's about—"

"I know what it's about," Hermann says. Geiszler fumbles to push his glasses back up his nose. "In fact, there are some things I need to speak with you about as well."

"You've seen them?" Geiszler says in a hushed tone.

Hermann scowls. "I certainly have.”

They first started cropping up in the forest around the little cabin Geiszler calls home. Then, like dandelions or bamboo, they spread fast and far—to the town commons, in the front lawn of the coffee shop Hermann frequents, in front of his house. Whenever Hermann dashes one down with his cane or hauls one off to a rubbish bin, two more only crop up in its place. It's annoying, frankly. As if Hermann doesn't have to deal with enough already.

3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS IN ONE WEEK - WHEN IS THE COUNCIL GOING TO DO SOMETHING?, the new one sitting in front of the community center says.

It's better than last week's sign, Hermann supposes. THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE - AND HERMANN GOTTLIEB IS BLIND TO IT.

"You know you need a permit for those, Dr. Geiszler," Hermann says. "Or, at the very least, the council's permission. They're a public nuisance."

"My signs are a public nuisance?" Geiszler shouts. Hermann flinches back. Geiszler may be compact, but if he doesn't have the shrillest voice on the whole damned planet. "Open your eyes, dude! A dozen people went missing last month! The only public nuisance is whatever's coming from—" He bites his lip and jabs his finger at the sky, as if saying anything remotely akin to outer space would suddenly send fleets of UFOs pouring down from above. "And you're just letting them walk right fucking in."

“I thought they were flying in?" Hermann says. He raps Geiszler’s shin with the end of his cane. "Do get out of my way, Dr. Geiszler. The meeting starts in ten minutes, and you're welcome to air all of your grievances then."

Geiszler is silent as Hermann ducks around him and ascends the community center ramp. For a moment, Hermann thinks he may have won this small victory, and then he hears the wet slaps of Geiszler's rain boots against the pavement behind him. "Really funny," Newton says. "Real fucking funny, dude. I bet it'll be just as funny when they come for you next!"

Hermann unlocks the door. Geiszler waves a stack of black-and-white polaroids beneath his nose. "I took these last week," Geiszler says, and begins flipping through them as frantically as he had his notepad. Each one is blurry and indistinct, like Geiszler snapped them through a gauzy curtain with shaking hands. Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. "The day that waitress went missing from the bus stop. And two nights after that—your neighbor, the one who went outside to let his cat in and never came b—"

"Enough," Hermann says. He pushes the polaroids away, knocking two to the ground, and Geiszler scrambles to pick them up before they're ruined. "Dr. Geiszler, it is undoubtedly tragic that these people have—er—vanished, as they have, but continuously insisting extraterrestrials had something to do with it, and furthermore—" Geiszler opens his mouth as if to argue, but Hermann raises his voice and pushes on. "—furthermore, that I'm meant to do something about it, is completely—well, it's unhinged, frankly. I'm not law enforcement. Or the mayor. Or bloody—NASA. What do you want from me?"

Geiszler stares at him for a long time. He pockets his photographs. "They're gonna come for you," he says, ominously. "Just like they did for me."

The meeting goes off as expected, which is to say, badly. Hermann gets shouted at by nearly everyone in town, many of whom blame Hermann and his presumed negligence for the disappearances over the past year as well (blessedly, they don't also blame aliens), though many more of them blame him for more trivial things such as the broken water fountain in the commons or the library's slow wireless internet. Hermann can't decide which is worse.

As it is, when the clock strikes eight, he's more than ready to go home. "Right," he announces, standing up and making a show of tidying his meeting notes. They're already tidy: Hermann's notes are always meticulous. He continues—rather quickly, in case someone gets bold and attempts to interrupt him, "Thank you all very much for such a, er, productive meeting. I'll make sure to pass along everything you've said to the appropriate people. If there's nothing else..."

Geiszler jumps to his feet. A few people groan; Hermann has a feeling they're just about as sick of him as Hermann is. "Um, yeah, actually, I want to add something."

"No," Hermann says. “Dr. Geiszler, please, we can talk—”

"When we were outside," Geiszler continues anyway, raising his voice, "you asked me what I wanted you to do. Well, I just want you to listen to me! That's all! I have so much proof—so much I can show you—and you won't even—!"

"Proof?" Hermann says. "Your rubbish photographs?”

"It's not just the photographs! It's other stuff, too! Like—" Geiszler lets out a long, angry huff of air, and actually balls his fists up at his sides. Hermann has never seen him so incensed, not even when he accused Hermann of being an alien himself during a council meeting last summer. "Look, just come to my house and I'll fuckin' show you. Or are you that afraid of being—I don’t know, proven wrong?"

Part of Hermann is convinced that if he follows Geiszler out to his isolated cabin in the middle of the woods, it'll be the last thing he ever does. At the very least, he certainly has no desire to spend more time with Geiszler than he's already forced to. Yet—on the other hand—Hermann does not appreciate the challenge, nor does he appreciate being made to look like a fool by the man who chairs the local paranormal society. "Fine," he snaps, and Geiszler startles in obvious surprise. "Fine, you wretched little man. I’ll let you show me whatever proof you think you may have, so long as you take every single one of those signs down."

"Um," Geiszler squeaks. He clears his throat. "D—deal?"

Hermann seizes his cane and thrusts his chair back under his table roughly. "Well?" he says to the rest of the hall, none of whom have budged since Geiszler began shouting his head off. He scowls at the lot of them. "The meeting is over. You can leave."

It's Hermann's job to shut down the building each week, so he waits for the very last stragglers to toss out their paper water cups, shrug on their raincoats, and file outside before switching off the lights and locking up. He finds Geiszler lurking by a rather worse-for-wear green VW Beetle at the curb, the hood of his raincoat flipped back up over his hair. Hermann desperately hopes that the car isn't Geiszler’s. He is Hermann’s ride home tonight, after all. "I took the signs down," Geiszler says in a rush. "All of the ones around here, anyway. I'll have to do the rest tomorrow." He jerks his thumb at the backseat of the Beetle, where Hermann sees a haphazard pile of some of the 3 ALIEN ABDUCTIONS signs. His heart sinks. The X-Files bumper stickers should've been a dead giveaway, really.

"Thank you," Hermann sighs. "Well, let's get this over with."

"The heat is busted, so you might wanna leave your coat on," Geiszler says apologetically when Hermann manages to squish himself into the passenger's seat. The floor is a sea of empty Dunkin' Donuts cups, stacks of pulp science (or, if Hermann were to be less kind, pseudoscientific) magazines spanning back at least half a decade, and a pin-littered linen tote bag filled to the brim with boxed Annie's macaroni and cheese.

"Uh, sorry," Geiszler says. "I had to run some errands earlier. You can just—toss that in the back. Yeah."

The ride is short but bumpy, and though the removal of Geiszler's shopping bag offers Hermann more leg room, there is nothing that can make up for his tragically awful driving and his tragically awful CD collection. Hermann almost bolts from the car when they finally pull up at Geiszler's ivy-shrouded cabin, so relieved to have made it there in one piece that he's all but forgotten that he must now spend the rest of the evening with Geiszler, too. He remembers soon enough: another duo of aggressive signs have been pounded into Geiszler's mossy front path, TURN BACK NOW - ALIEN ABDUCTION ZONE, and a rather good sketch of Hermann beneath WHAT ARE THOSE CHEEKBONES HIDING? "That one's from the summer," Geiszler says sheepishly, kicking down the latter with the toe of his boot. "I keep forgetting to take it down. I don't still think you're an alien, by the way."

"Er, thank you," Hermann says. "I suppose?"

"They wouldn't be that obvious," Geiszler says, emphasizing the they with a meaningful glance up at the night sky.

"Of course not," Hermann says.

He's not quite sure what he expected Geiszler's house to look like. Some sort of—conspiracy nutter's den, perhaps, with aluminum foil hats and deconstructed radios and elaborate photoboards full of thumbtacks and red string. Or the interior of his car on a larger scale, with empty takeout containers and crumpled up papers on every surface. He's...sort of right. There's a noticeable lack of tinhats, but there are plenty of (modestly-sized) corkboards on the walls and multiple coffee cups peeking out of a recycling bin. The rest is merely precisely what Hermann would expect from an academic in his 30s: books, and mis-matching furniture, and a sink of dishes begging to be washed. It's...a bit disappointing, frankly. Though Hermann is rather impressed with the sleek telescope angled in front of the back slider door. Impressed, and envious. It's a very nice model.

"Make yourself at home," Geiszler says, unzipping his voluminous raincoat and tossing it, along with Hermann's, over the back of a worn armchair. He's wearing a pair of torn skinny jeans and a band t-shirt that reveals his heavily tattooed, and deceptively shapely, arms. Hermann tears his eyes away and forces himself to sit down at one end of Geiszler's couch. "I'm gonna make us some coffee. Do you want any sugar or non-dairy creamer?"

"No, thank you," Hermann says. "I don't drink coffee this late. It'll keep me up all night."

"Well, I hope so, that's kinda the plan,” Geiszler says. He rolls his eyes. “The aliens never come before at least midnight. Soy milk or almond milk?"

Hermann thinks, briefly and longingly, of his nice warm bed, the blanket he intended to toss in the dryer, and the herbal tea he won't be having after all. "Almond milk?" he hazards.

Geiszler stares at him in evident disgust. "Dude, I was kidding. You know how bad that shit is for the environment? It takes, like, a fuckin' thousand gallons of water or something like that for one carton of almond milk. It's insane. I mean, I guess it's still less water than what dairy needs, but there are plenty of better options."

"Oh," Hermann says. Hermann drinks skim milk. "I'm sorry. Er. Soy milk?"

As Geiszler fixes them mugs, Hermann begins to poke around some papers scattered across the coffee table. One is a list of names and dates, seemingly random, Hermann thinks, until he recognizes (scrawled in purple ink at the very bottom of the page) that of the gentleman who disappeared from his back porch just down Hermann's street. When he recognizes another—a teenager who worked as a barista at Hermann’s favorite coffee shop—he realizes it must be everyone who's vanished from town in the past year. Another paper has the same dates repeated, though not alongside any names—rather, bizarre little phrases like circling lights and that sound again. "You found my notes," Geiszler says cryptically, and then thrusts a mug out to Hermann.

Hermann takes the mug. A logo on the side tells Hermann it was from some academic conference in California ten years ago. "What are they supposed to mean?" he says.

Geiszler snorts. "Uh, I thought it was kind of obvious. Look—" He sits next to Hermann, far too close, and points at the column of numbers on the first page. "These are the dates when people have been reported missing," he says, and then scans his finger over to the second page, "and these are the dates when I've observed extraterrestrial—or at least, unexplainable—activity overhead. See how they match up almost perfectly?

"Mm," Hermann says. He does not. "So—if I am to understand you correctly—you believe that a, ah," he takes the page back from Geiszler, "a 'weird swoopy sound' from overhead had something to do with that poor young woman disappearing from a bus stop last week?”

"It wasn't just a weird noise!" Geiszler exclaims. "I showed you the pictures. I ran outside when I heard it, and thank fuck I had my camera, because I caught those lights just as they were leaving. And then what do I find out the next morning? There was another abduction, at almost the exact same time I saw the lights!"

"Ten miles from here," Hermann reminds him. "It would've had to have been a bloody fast ship."

"Yeah, no shit, Hermann," Geiszler says. "They're, like, fucking—mega-advanced lifeforms. They probably have the tech to vaporize the entire Earth if they wanted. Of course it was a fast ship.”

Geiszler is still sitting awfully close to Hermann. He runs very warm, unlike Hermann, warm enough to make Hermann warm too—like a scruffy, tattooed, freckled furnace. Yes, freckled, for Geiszler has the lightest dusting of freckles across his round chipmunk-like cheeks that Hermann finds inexplicably charming. He wonders if Geiszler would notice him loosen his collar a bit, perhaps take off his sweater. He really is getting quite warm. "So, I was saying," Geiszler continues, and though he speaks almost directly into Hermann's ear, he sounds as if he's a mile away from him. "Waitress at bus stop—weird lights over my cabin—waitress gone from bus stop. The proof is, like, undeniable!"

"Indeed," Hermann says.

He undoes the top button of his collar. He hasn't touched his coffee yet—he wonders if Geiszler even cares. The tattoo on Geiszler’s bicep, some sort of space tentacle monster, stares back at Hermann. "I'm telling you, man," Geiszler says, "this is no joke. They're taking people, maybe even for good."

They're gonna come for you, just like they did for me. When Geiszler began spouting nonsense about aliens last year, he was not booted from the biology department right away. Mostly everyone at the college, Hermann knows, tolerated his eccentricities on account of his admittedly brilliant mind and popularity among the students. The final straw came when Geiszler's extraterrestrial delusions (for what else could they be?) reached a new level: he showed up to campus in his pajamas one morning, raving that the aliens were not only zooming about over his house, but had actually abducted him the previous evening. "You seemed to fare alright, though, didn't you?" Hermann says. "When you were—ah—taken? They even dropped you back off in time for work. Quite courteous, I should think."

"That's—" Geiszler begins to shake his leg up and down, nervous energy radiating up his body and through Hermann's. He spills some of his coffee on the carpet. "That was—that was dumb. I got lucky. I think I was one of the first ones, you know? Because the disappearances didn't really get bad until, like, a month after that? I was in bed—and, and it wasn't like how it is in movies, I wasn't sucked up in a giant beam of light or anything like that, one minute I was there and then the next I wasn't, I was somewhere...else. And—uh. I don't really remember what they looked like. I tried to—sketch them out, but it was like trying to remember a dream, all the specific details about them just faded once it was over. But, um." He rubs the back of his neck, and Hermann is surprised to see him blushing. "Well, if I'm being honest, I think I kinda freaked them out."

Hermann can't help but snort. "You what?"

"I'm serious!" Geiszler shrieks. "I freaked them out. I was just really excited about it all. Like, dude, come on, I was abducted by aliens. How fucking cool is that? I just kept asking a bunch of questions, like, are you gonna probe me? are you gonna take me back to Mars or Jupiter or, like, I don't know, fucking Gallifrey? do you even understand what I'm saying, how do you communicate? and then the next thing I knew, I was landing on my ass in the school parking lot. They must've been observing me like I was observing them, like, they maybe knew I worked there? Anyway—" He shakes his head. "I tell you what, I'm real glad I decided to not just wear boxers like usual to bed that night. That would've been really embarrassing."

Bombarded with the sudden mental image of what Geiszler usually looks like in bed, Hermann (feeling rather warm again) tugs at his collar and clears his throat. He has certainly seen more than enough for the night, and if his mind is straying to something as prosaic as what does Dr. Geiszler look like half-naked?, it likely means it’s time for bed. "Er, right. Dr. Geiszler—"

"Just call me Newt, man," Geiszler says.

"Newton," Hermann concedes. It gives him a private little thrill. No one calls Newton Newton; it’s always either Newt or Dr. Geiszler. "Newton,” he says again, “this has been a very—illuminating—evening, but it's getting rather late, and I think you ought to drive me home before—"

And then Newton begins to take off his shirt.

Yes, a small part of Hermann's brain whispers traitorously, yes, yes, yes, even as Hermann recoils and stammers out, "Newton, what—?!"

"Oh, calm down, I'm not coming onto you," Newton says. He drops his t-shirt on the floor and jabs a thumb at his chest. His bare chest. "See, look. Proof."

Hermann's not sure what he's meant to be looking at. The giant Godzilla tattooed over Newton's pectorals? The flying saucer tattooed above Newton’s belly button? Newton’s nipple piercings? Hermann thinks he understands what an overheating computer feels like, an influx of too much information with processors unequipped to handle it. "I," he says. Newton’s belly button is not pierced. Hermann’s not sure why he thought it would be.

"Look at my chest, dude!" Newton says, tapping his skin insistently.

It takes Hermann a great deal of effort to pull his eyes away from the nipple piercings. In the dead center of Newton's chest, spaced perfectly between his pectorals and right over the nostrils of Godzilla, is a strange, almost luminescent glyph of a language Hermann can't begin to recognize. It's raised from Newton's skin, more like a brand than a tattoo. And...well, when Hermann says luminescent, he really means it. The squiggle seems to glow blue. "This was on me the next morning," Newton says. "I think they marked me. Like you'd tag a lab rat?”

Hermann can't help himself: he reaches out and touches the mark. "Strange," he murmurs. Compared to the heat of Newton’s body, the glyph is quite cool. Frigid, in fact, like metal, and yet as soft as the rest of his skin.

He's close enough to Newton to hear the hitch in his breath when they make contact, and as he traces his fingertips over the glyph, he can feel Newton's heart pounding beneath them. Strange, indeed; Newton has been such a thorn in his side for so many months, and yet all Hermann wants to do now is touch even more of him. He trails his hand lower, down to the flying saucer on Newton's soft abdomen. Newton inhales sharply. "Um," he says. "Should—should I put my shirt back on?"

"Do you want to?" Hermann says.

"Not really," Newton says.

He stares at Hermann, eyebrows knit together behind his glasses, like he can't seem to make sense of him. His confusion is very much warranted; Hermann can’t seem to make sense of himself right now, either. Then, to Hermann's supreme annoyance, the pieces seem to click into place in Newton's mind, and he grins. "Oh, duh," he says. "No wonder. You wanna fuck me, don't you? That’s why you’re so obsessed with me.”

That would certainly explain the strange warm feeling that comes over Hermann sometimes when he thinks about Newton in the dead of night that he has, up until this very moment, attributed to bouts of temporary insanity and/or a latent murderous desire. Nothing so dramatic as all that, then—just regular human biology. Urgh. How disgusting. And for Newton, of all people. “Obsessed with you?” Hermann sniffs, desperate to retain some element of propriety even while he begins to tug at Newton’s button fly. “Newton, you have spent thousands of dollars on yard signs just to invite me over for a coffee.”

“Uh, yeah, and it worked,” Newton says.

He curls his fingers in the front of Hermann's sweater, thumbing over one of the buttons.

“Even when I thought you were an alien,” Newton says, “I still kiiiiinda wanted to fuck you.”

Delusional or not, Newton looks terrifically good with a beard.

"Wait," Hermann gasps some time later. "Newton, stop a moment—"

Newton pulls away from him, frowning. He pushes his glasses back up on his nose. "What is it?" he says. "Did I hurt—?"

But Hermann pats at his shoulder frantically, pointing beyond him at the back slider and the dark of the forest beyond that. Newton cranes his neck around. "Only I'm sure I saw something. Lights, or…” Hermann feels a small twinge of embarrassment. The night is dead silent, and dead still. “Well, now I'm not sure."

“You probably imagined it," Newton says. He slips back down to press a kiss at Hermann's jaw. “It’s too early to be them.”

Not even ten yet. Newton kisses behind Hermann’s ear. It feels very nice. "Yes," Hermann agrees slowly, his eyelids flickering shut. He smooths his hand up and down Newton’s back. "Yes, I suppose you're right." Newton’s stories must have left him on edge. Which is of course ridiculous, because they’re all a load of rubbish—there may be extraterrestrials somewhere out there in the great wide universe, but they’re certainly not swooping down and plucking up hapless test subjects from Earth, let alone their small town, every other day. Hermann has much more important things to concern himself with right now, like how it feels when he threads his fingers in the soft strands of Newton’s hair, or the sound Newton makes when Hermann digs his nails into his skin, or how wonderful kissing Newton is...

And, unobserved by both of them, the three lights hovering above Newton's cabin blink away as quickly as they'd come.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag

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holylulusworld · 3 years

Text

Her substitute (4) - Back Home

Summary: Once you were her best friend. Now her widower seeks shelter in your arms.

Square Filled: Bonham Walker for @walker-bingo

Ship: Cordell Walker x fem!Reader, Cordell Walker x Emily Walker (widowed)

Characters: Bonham Walker, Stella Walker, August Walker, Abeline Walker

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of a loved one, remorse, awkward situations, idiots in love, Walkers family is the best, arguments, implied smut

Word Count: 1,6 k

Her substitute masterlist

2021 Walker Bingo masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics

<< Part 3

“Y/N,” Stella clings to you, refuses to let go of you. The moment you got out of your old truck she jumped at you, crying as you came back. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” you swallow thickly when Stella tells you how much she has missed you. For now, you will hide you still don’t know if you will stay or go back to New York. “How have you been? I know my departure was—sudden.”

“It was his fault, wasn’t it?” she chokes out, looking up at you. “Why can’t he just admit he wants to go out with you? Dad should stop being so stubborn.”

“Your father and I, we are friends and partners. It’s complicated, you know. Maybe it would be easier if I wasn’t your mom’s best friend. I think Cor—I mean your dad doesn’t know how to express his feelings. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea that I stay here.”

“Why? You are family, Y/N. Please don’t leave us again. August, he doesn’t show it but he’s missing you too. He’s as stubborn as dad,” Stella sighs when you run your hand over her hair. “Dad is an idiot for not seeing how much you care about him.”

“There she is, the long-lost daughter,” Bonham smirks when you walk toward the house, Stella hot on your heels. She refused to leave your side since you are back in town, even followed you home when you tried to change clothing.

“Hi,” you let Cordell’s father wrap you in a hug. “How have things been since I’ve been gone? Do you still drive your wife crazy?” he snickers at your words.

“So, you’ve become an important FBI agent now?” he looks at you, searching your face while hoping you will come back. “I heard about Cordell and you. Why didn’t you tell me you are about to become our new daughter-in-law?”

“Bonham,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly, “this is all a misunderstanding. Cordell and I are only friends and partners.”

“Do you want to tell me you left your home, your family for a job you don’t want out of the blue? I know about the blind date and that you left town right after you canceled, the party,” he slings one arm around your shoulders to lead you into the house. “I am an old man, not blind nor stupid.”

“Love is out of the question for Cordell and me,” Bonham doesn’t say a word. He guides you into the house, biting his tongue. “Emily was the woman he loved, and it will always be her for him. I don’t think he will be able to open his heart for someone else.”

“How about we save the heavy topics for later and have dinner? Abeline made your favorite, and she made a pie to die for, Y/N,” you hate to say no to Bonham, so you nod silently, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You know, if he doesn’t man up and asks you out, I’ll handle this for him.”

“Bonham,” he laughs when you try to stop him from playing the matchmaker for you and his son. “Please don’t try to change his mind. Cordell is—”

“A stubborn man, but he has feelings for you, my dear. He’s like his old man,” Bonham ends your sentence. “Y/N, he’s a good man, with a broken heart. He just needs a little push. Let me push him if I must.”

“That’s delicious Abeline,” you try to break the awkward tension in the dining room. While Stella and August won’t stop asking questions about New York, the FBI and your training Cordell sits opposite you, frowning anytime you say something, “as always.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Cordell’s mother gives you a soft smile, offering another slice of the pie to you. “You are always welcome to join us for dinner. Cordell should invite you more often.”

“Mom,” Cordell clears his throat, eyes drifting toward you again. Tonight, he sticks to water, doesn’t even touch the beer his father offered to him. “Y/N will come around when she finds the time. She has her own life…maybe even in New York.”

“Dad,” Stella drops her fork. She grimaces, pointing her finger at you. “Do you want her to leave town again? Why don’t you ask her out? If you can go out with that other woman, you can go out with Y/N!”

“Stella,” August tries to spare you another hurtful scene. He’s grown for his age, and you give him a weak smile. “We talked about this, didn’t we?”

“Fine,” grasping for her water Stella glares at her father. “If she leaves all of us because of you, I will never forgive you.”

“I think that is enough,” Bonham speaks up. “Y/N doesn’t owe you anything, Stella. She is important to all of us, but this doesn’t mean she must stay in town and work as a Texas Ranger, not when she has the chance to become an FBI agent.”

“Grandpa,” Stella sniffs, looking at him, pleadingly. “Please. I don’t want to lose her too. He can’t ruin everything for us. Mom died because—”

“Enough,” this time you drop the fork. “It was my fault too. We arrested that man together. I was the one not wanting to give up and your mom and Jason paid the price. The guilt almost ate me up and your father was the one catching my fall,” you admit, pushing the tears away.

“What?” Stella inhales sharply. She always believed you are like Wonder Woman. Invincible and strong-willed. “But—but you seem so strong and…”

“Even the mightest people fall sometimes. It’s no shame to accept help from someone,” you clear your throat, eyes drifting toward Cordell. You know he’s ashamed Geri called you and that you saw him drunk once again. “Some people might say you are even stronger for accepting help.”

“Hi—erm, can I help you?” watching you clean the dishes Cordell awkwardly stands in the kitchen. “Mom said the dishwasher needs fixing. Let me lend you a hand.” He stands behind you to subtle sniff at your hair.

You can feel his chest press against your back when he tries to take the first plate out of your hand. “I—I can do this,” voice a little shaky you try to focus on the warm water soaking your hands, not the heat coming out of Cordell’s body. “How about you go back and chat a little or something.”

“Y/N, will it always be like that from now on? I want you to look at me the way you did before you left for New York,” he begins. “Please at least look at me. Even if you give me a dirty look. Just talk to me.”

“Do you think you are the only person thinking about shit all the time,” you place the plate back into the sink. “I think about Jason and Emily all the fucking time,” you turn around to jab your finger into his chest.

“Baby girl,” you whimper at the pet name. “I’m sorry—” he runs his large hands up and down your arms to calm you. “I should have stayed away from you, but I can’t. Y/N, I feel guilt too.” You huff at his words, not believing he feels sorry at all.

“Oh, you feel guilty for fucking me?” you retort, letting out a frustrated huff. “Do you know why I feel guilty, huh?” he shakes his head, swallowing thickly when tears well up to your eyes. “I feel guilty for getting them killed. I feel guilty for fucking my best friend’s husband. I feel guilty for hiding whatever we have from our families and friends. And I feel guilty for wanting you so bad that I can’t think straight when you are close to me.”

“Baby girl,” he gently cups your face, stroking your skin with his thumbs, “I’m so sorry for being an insensitive asshole. I should’ve told you how I feel a long time ago.” His lips softly press against your forehead, and you sigh deeply, hating he makes you feel weak all over again. “Please, give me a chance to show you I can be better.”

“I need to…I need to go,” you duck under his arm to escape the painful situation. Before you flee out of the house you look back over your shoulder to give Cordell one last glance. “Give me a few days to sort my thoughts, Cord. I just can’t be with you right now.”

“Hey, Ems,” you sit in front of your friend’s grave. “Do you think I should go back to New York? I-I know it’s wrong to love your husband, but I can’t stop my heart from beating only for him.” you sniff, wiping your eyes. “Shit, I can still feel his hands on me. He’s just—fuck. Cordell gets under my skin, Emily.”

Silence is a good friend tonight, so you sit there in front of her grave, drinking your favorite beer. “Do you remember when we first met? I thought you hate me, and you believed I am too cool to hang out with you. But the truth is, back then, I thought you are the coolest girl I ever met.”

“Shit, I wish you were here with me, Emily. I swear, nothing would’ve happened between me and Cordell if you were here. I could’ve never done such a shady thing,” you sip at your beer, sighing deeply.

“...and even now, I think about him and his fucking hands. God, his hands all over me and his lips against my throat. I love when he calls me baby girl. It drives me crazy, and I believe that I will lose my mind.”

“Coming,” Cordell grumbles, reluctantly opening the door to his house. “Y/N?” he gasps when you grab his shirt to bring him down for a messy kiss. “Baby girl.”

“Just shut up,” cupping the back of his neck, you kiss him again, this time slow and gentle. “I-I don’t know what to do. I only know that I want you.”

“I want you too—” you find yourself in his arms, your legs around his waist as he carries you inside his house. “Let me show you how much, baby girl…”

>> Part 5

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#Her substitute (4) - Back Home #cordell walker #walkerbingo #cordell walker x reader #cordell x reader #cordell walker fanfiction #cordell walker x fem!reader #angst #tension #idiots in love

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

Text

What Did I Miss?

So this blog has grown a ton in the last couple of months. Going into this year, I had maybe 15 followers. Now, I’m at 100. That might not seem like a lot to some of you, but to me, that’s 100 people who love my writing. 100 people who find comfort and joy in the things I put out there. And it means so much to me <3 I always wanted to be a writer, but always felt like I got lost in the sea of content. I couldn’t come up with anything original or anything that would get noticed. And then I started writing for Cobra Kai. It’s a pretty small fandom so anything put out there gets seen. Then, I started writing what I wanted to read. Vaginismus smut/ general feminist fics are a niche that has almost no writers, but so many of you have sent me private messages saying how much those fics mean to you. So, to honor all 100 of my new followers, I have combined my two genres. I now present to you… Eli Moskowitz x vaginismus!reader. I hope you love it!

You have been doing your physical therapy for about a year now. It was a long process, full of ups and downs, good days and bad days, but you were proud to say you were done! The biggest dilator could be easily inserted with the right amount of lube. It made you feel more...normal. Let’s just say, you weren’t exactly the most popular girl in school. People didn’t notice you. And when they did, it was “who’s that shy girl that hangs out with those losers?” Yup. Your best friends, Demitri and Eli, were the only people you really felt comfortable around at school. You found each other back in elementary school, because everyone else was making friends and running around on the playground, while you three just wanted to stay inside and play board games. So you weren’t cool, which you were okay with. But being diagnosed with vaginismus a year ago after almost passing out trying to put in a tampon had made you feel like even more of a freak. You couldn’t do the one thing girls were wanted for. You’d be alone forever.

But it was over. You could have sex. At least, you thought you’d be able to. You never actually tried before. What if it put you right back to square one? What if you totally embarrassed yourself in front of a guy you liked? These thoughts zipped through your mind at the speed of light, faster than you could keep up with, when something snapped you back into reality.

“Y/N?” Eli asked timidly. You guys were hanging out in his basement waiting for Demitri to show up so you could start your Lord Of The Rings marathon. Your head snapped up, eyes locking with his.

“Yeah? Sorry,” you laughed awkwardly. You had been thinking about sex while hanging out with Eli. That wasn’t cool.

He studied your face for a second. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, everything is fine. Is everything okay… with you?” You questioned back, trying to play it cool.

“Umm, yeah. You’ve just been spacing out a lot today.” You were about to make up a reply when his phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of you guys. He reached over to pick it up, scanning the screen before letting out a soft sigh. “Demitri’s mom is making him repaint their kitchen. He’s not gonna be here until 9.” He looked at your face at this for a reaction. 9 o’clock. It was 7 right now. That left you with 2 hours to be alone, here, with Eli. There weren’t many times where it had been just the two of you. Demitri was always there as a talkative icebreaker, and you hadn’t truly appreciated it until now. It was getting awkward.

You both sat there quietly, staring at the black TV. Neither of you were very talkative people. This was probably what it was going to be like the first time you tried to have sex with someone. Awkward, quiet, and the guy would probably leave when he realized he had to be beyond gentle because of your vaginismus. Yeah, you were thinking about sex a lot lately. But you’d just finished your therapy, so of course you were wondering about all the possibilities now.

“Y/N,” Eli spoke, this time making you jump a little. You had been spacing out again. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to drive you home?”

“No! I mean, thanks, but I’m okay. Just have a lot on my mind today,” you laughed shyly.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked hesitantly.

A pause. You definitely were not about to tell Eli about all your vagina problems, but you were itching to vent your concerns. Maybe you could just phrase it in a way so that he wouldn’t know what you were talking about.

“I- I kind of have this thing.” You looked up at him, gaging his reaction. He was listening intently, no sign that he was about to say anything, so you kept going. “Basically, I’ve been doing physical therapy to fix it for the last year, and I’m finally done. So I’ve just been thinking about… all the things I can do now. I mean now that I’m… healed.”

Sensing that you were done, he asked, “You seem nervous about it.”

“I mean yeah. It kind of opens me up to a whole new world of experiences. But I still need to, I guess be careful? Take it slow. And I’m worried people might not want to… be a part of it.”

He nodded, thinking about what you had just said. He was wildly confused, you had never seemed injured before, but he didn’t want to push you to talk.

So instead, he just said “Well I’ll always be here for you. Anything you want me to be a part of, I’m down.”

You thought about this. Eli was so understanding and supportive. He always had been. If you couldn’t tell him, you couldn’t tell any guy. Maybe this would be good practice for the conversation you’d inevitably have to have with someone.

“Thanks. You kind of can’t be a part of it, though. I mean, it’s just really… personal.” He didn’t seem hurt by this, so you decided to let him in. “It’s kind of hard to talk about. Basically, it just causes me a lot of pain whenever I try to... “ you made some unintelligible hand gestures, hoping he would get what you meant without you having to say the word. He just shook his head no, showing that he didn’t understand. “Like, whenever I put something… inside.” You blushed deeply at this, giving Eli another hint about what you might mean. You were staring at the floor. He said nothing, and when you looked back up at him, he too was bright red. “Sorry. I’m probably making you really uncomfortable. I can just go and come back later when Demi-”

“Y/N, it’s okay. You don’t have to go.”

A pause. “Okay,” you replied.

“You said that you were.... Healed. So does that mean you can, like, do stuff now?” he was still staring at the floor, fiddling with his hands as he said this.

“Technically, yeah. I just still need to like… take it slow. And I guess I’m just nervous that no guy is gonna want to have to deal with that.”

“Well then they’re stupid,” he scoffed. You looked up at him, shocked at his little show of emotion. “Sorry. I just mean that, I know what it’s like to feel like no one will ever want you like that. And it’s dumb. You’re really cool. And smart, and funny… and pretty. And if there’s a guy that doesn’t want you just because he’s gonna have to be gentle, well he’s a grade-A asshole.”

You laughed loudly at this, which made Eli smile at you. “Thanks. That’s really sweet of you to say,” you smiled. “And if you’re talking about your scar when you say you know what it feels like, don’t worry about that. You’re totally cute and any girl would be lucky to kiss you.” His earlier words had you feeling bold, so you figured you would compliment him back. Guys almost never got compliments, especially quiet guys like Eli, so you felt like it was important to give him the same kindness he had given you. He turned so red, he looked like he wasn’t breathing.

“That’s not true. I mean, thanks for being nice, but no girl at school has ever wanted to kiss me.”

Well, here’s your chance. You guys were in his basement alone, the lights were turned down, and you guys just had a super personal conversation. So you went for it. “I can think of one girl who would be honored,” you whispered into the dimly-lit room.

You could feel his head snap up at this. You were staring at the TV again, but his gaze was piercing. The air was thick, so you turned your head to look at him. He was in awe, looking at you like you were the warm sun on the first day of spring. You guys had been sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but you scooted close to the middle. Eli looked panicked, but pushed it away, swallowing hard before scooting to meet you. He was practically shaking with nerves. Were you really about to kiss him? In answer, you looked down at his lips, then back up at his eyes. You slowly leaned in, Eli frozen in place, scared to ruin the moment. Your lips barely touched his, being sure to ghost over his scar, before you pulled away a few inches and opened your eyes. You smiled at him, and once he realized that you had just kissed him on purpose and liked it…

You gasped as he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, leaning back in to kiss you again, slightly deeper this time. His lips were soft, but firm. He tasted like cherry chapstick and the coca cola he’d been drinking. This wasn’t your first kiss, but you knew it was his. You knew you would have to lead. So, you brought your hands up around his neck and swiped your tongue lightly over his bottom lip. You heard him sigh, and then felt him open his mouth as his tongue met yours. Sure, it was his first kiss, but damn he was a natural. Shortly after this, you pulled away again.

“Woah,” he said, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“Woah,” you parroted with a giggle.

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly. You laughed at this, throwing your head back.

“You don’t have to thank me, Eli. I wanted to.” There was a beat of silence as he rubbed his thumb over your cheek.

He said honestly, “Well I kind of feel bad now. You helped me with my problem but I didn’t help you with yours.” Your smile dropped, thinking about what he was implying. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that! I swear I’m not trying to like take advantage of you or something. I just meant that-”

“I know what you meant. It’s fine.” You smiled again. You knew Eli would never try to convince you to have sex with him like that. Seeing him flounder reminded you of how sweet he really was. The kind of guy you hoped you would be able to have sex with one day. “Honestly, I’ll probably just do it to get it over with. And if it hurts, I’ll just go back to therapy, and if not, great. But the anticipation is kind of killing me.”

“Oh… well you should still do it with someone who cares about you. I mean, it’s your choice, but don’t just pick some random guy who’s not gonna care if he hurts you.” Eli was so heartfelt when he said this, you could have cried. He actually understood. And cared. And the moment was pretty intimate.

“So you’re saying I should do it with a nice guy.”

“Well, yeah,” he responded as if it was obvious.

“Are you a nice guy, Eli?”

He was quiet, thinking about all the meaning behind that simple sentence. After a few seconds, he nodded. You leaned back in to kiss him again, this time with much more passion. He took initiative this time, being the first to swipe his tongue over your lip and into your mouth. His hands moved from your face to your waist, supporting you when you moved to straddle his lap. You guys made out like this for a while, lost in the feeling of each other’s lips. When you finally pulled away, you were both breathing hard.

“Wait, wait,” he stopped you from moving back in. “Are we doing this right now?”

“Do you not want to?” you felt a pang of rejection at this. Making to move off his lap. He grabbed you firmly by the hips.

“Are you seriously asking me that question? The girl I’ve had a crush on since 3rd grade is sitting in my lap making out with me right now. Of course I’m into it.” You smiled at this. “I guess I just feel like I want to know more about your… thing first. I don’t want to hurt you.” You were definitely making the right choice here. Eli was so genuinely kind, you knew for sure in that moment you wanted to do this with him.

“Okay. It’s a condition called vaginismus. Basically, my pelvic muscles get super tight as like a reflex whenever I try to… do anything. And that makes it super painful,” you explained.

He nodded in understanding before asking, “And the physical therapy? How does that work?”

“Well, there are these things called dilators,” you blushed at this. “They come in a bunch of different sizes. You start with the smallest one, and just condition your body to relax while you put it in. And when you can do it with no pain, you move up to the next size. The smallest one is like the size of my pinky, and the biggest one is like… you know.”

“A dick?” He asked as you both laughed.

“Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence before he looked at you in a way that said he was completely committed. “What do you need me to do?” he asked. You felt yourself tear up a little at this. Ever since you got diagnosed, you always imagined perfect scenarios in your head in which the guy you were with asked you that question. Of course, you always believed it would stay a fantasy. No guy would realistically care this much. But it turns out there was a guy, and he was right in front of you your entire life. You leaned in and gave him a sweet kiss, which caught him a little off-guard.

You then leaned back and began to explain. “Usually when I do my therapy, I’ll start with some breathing exercises. And then get my dilator and some lube and just kind of, sink down on it? And then I just stay there for as long as I can. Obviously sex involves a lot more movement, which is kind of the part I’m nervous about.”

“We can go super slow. And if it ever hurts, even a little bit, I want you to tell me, okay?”

You nodded. “Are you sure you want to? I know you just had your first kiss and I want to make sure you’re ready, too.”

“I’m ready. I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but I’ve actually imagined this situation before… a lot,” he murmured the last part.

You laughed, and awe’d at his cuteness. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

He leaned in to kiss you again, starting slow and building in intensity. Once the kiss got heated, you grabbed his hands that were still lightly gripping your hips, and moved them down to cup your ass. He inhaled sharply and squeezed. You moved your hands from his neck down to his chest, sliding lower and lower until they were at the hem of his shirt, and then under to his bare stomach. He shivered, and then kneaded your ass harder.

“Can I take this off?” you asked, tugging at his shirt. He nodded and leaned forward so you could pull the hem up and over his head, his hands only leaving you for a second before they resumed their previous position.

Your own hands roamed his chest, before he slid his hands under your shirt, silently asking for you to take it off as well. Wordlessly, you reached down, gripped the bottom and pulled it off, Eli’s eyes going straight to your bra.

“I would have worn something a little cuter if I thought we’d-”

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he cut you off. Your face turned bright red as you smiled down at your lap. “Hey,” he said as his thumb came to your chin to lift your face back up. And then he kissed you again, sucking lightly at your bottom lip, eliciting a soft sigh from you. You started to lightly grind your hips into his, and you could immediately feel that he was already hard. His hands gripped your ass firmly, helping to guide your movements. You felt a slight pleasure between your legs, so began to grind down harder, Eli moving his own hips back up into yours. His length brushed a certain spot that made you let out a small, involuntary moan. You slapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide. He smiled, bringing his hand up to move yours off your mouth, and grinding into you even harder, with a new sense of excitement. He moved back in, but instead of bringing his lips to yours, he brought them to your neck, licking and sucking softly. You felt a rush of heat flow through you at this, never imagining that neck kisses would feel so good.

“Oh, wow,” you whispered. You felt him smile- no, smirk, against your neck. Then, he moved one of his hands to your stomach, lightly brushing his knuckles across the skin, before untying your sweatpants. This excited you. He slowly brought his hand under the waistband, giving you plenty of time to tell him to stop. You didn’t, and he eventually felt the fabric of your underwear, opting to stay on top of them. He rubbed your center with one of his fingers clumsily. Eli obviously had never done this before, so you did your best to move your hips on his hand to try and give him the idea of what you wanted. He seemed nervous though, and didn’t really get the hint.

“Small circles,” you instructed breathlessly. He brought his face out of your neck, furrowing his brows in concentration. He moved his fingers like you said in small circles on your left lip. You wanted to giggle, but didn’t want to hurt his feelings, opting for bringing your hand into your pants on top of his and guiding it to the right spot, moving his fingers in tight circles with slightly more pressure than he had been using right over your clit. You moaned softly at this, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows. Eli looked at you with an adorable excitement, proud that he was able to get you to make that sound, and knew that he wanted to hear it again. He got the hang of it pretty fast, and didn’t need your hand for guidance anymore, keeping the same pace and rhythm that you had shown him.

“Oh my god, Eli,” you whispered softly in his ear, hips grinding against his hand once again.

“Fuck,” he whispered back, more turned on than he had ever been just from watching you. At this, you brought one of your hands down to cup him through his pants. He hissed, sitting up straighter. His jeans made it hard for you to do much, though, so you said huskily, “Do you want to take them off?” He nodded, and you stood up and took your sweatpants off as he unbuttoned his jeans and slipped them off his legs. When he looked back at you, he saw that you were taking off your underwear too, so he did as well.

Once he was naked and you were left in just a bra, he tentatively asked you, “Should I… get a condom?”

You had completely forgotten about protection! That was pretty important, so you responded, “Yeah, do you have one?”

“They handed them out in health class last month,” he said nervously, answering your implied question which was Why do you have one? He stood up, walking into his room through the doorway in the basement, returning shyly with a small silver packet. You were kneeling on the couch awkwardly, not really sure what to do, when he raked his eyes over your body. There was almost a predatory look in his eyes, one that you had never seen before in Eli. A sign of confidence hidden deep down. He suddenly stopped, as if realizing something, and said “I’ll be right back,” before running upstairs butt-naked. Thank God no one else was home! He returned with a jar of coconut oil in his hand. “I know you said you normally use lube, and I don’t really have any of that, so I thought we could use this? Or I can run to CVS and get some if you want, it’s up to you!” He added that last part hurriedly.

You took the jar from him, opening it and gathering a small amount on your fingers before rubbing them together, testing the substance. “This should work just fine, thank you.”

(Guys please don’t use oil as lube, it can break down the condom! Sorry for the 4th wall break!)

He looked at you for guidance, questioning, “So, how do you want to do this?”

You looked around for a second, before deciding “You can sit down again. I think I want to be on top. Just so I have more control and stuff.” He nodded understandingly and went to sit back down on the couch, holding his hands out to you as you straddled his hips once more.

“This?” he asked as he brought his hand up to your bra strap, slipping it down your shoulder in a wordless plea to take it off, which is exactly what you did. When your breasts were exposed, you thought Eli’s eyes were going to pop out of his head. He never thought he’d see actual boobs one day, and here they were, right in his face, attached to his naked crush who was sitting on his lap. What a day. He brought his hands up to gently cup them, making you smile at his softness.

“Having fun?” you joked. He just looked at you and giggled, nodding his head. You took the condom packet and opened it, sliding the slippery rubber out. “Do you have any idea how to use this?” You questioned with a laugh.

“Yeah, here,” he took it from you, placing it on the tip of his dick and rolling it down the length, inhaling sharply at the feeling. He reached for the coconut oil once more and took a finger-full, melting it between his hands and spreading it all over the condom, before taking the remainder on his fingers and rubbing softly at your center. He watched your face intently for any signs of discomfort as he did so. When he found none, he brought his pointer and middle finger back to your clit, rubbing circles once again, making you let out a sigh and tip your head back. He did this for several more moments, until your hips began to writhe.

“Okay,” you said to tell him you were ready to try.

“Hey, I just wanted to say… please don’t be insecure about anything. Take all the time you need, and if it hurts, we can stop and I won’t be disappointed or anything. I promise. I want you to be comfortable.”

You kissed him in response, smiling as you pulled away. “Thank you.”

You sat up on your knees, taking his dick in your hand and lining it up with your entrance, rubbing it back and forth to distribute the lubricant. You closed your eyes, taking some deep breaths to relax your muscles, and lightly sank down in his tip. You stopped about an inch in to adjust, before lifting off and sinking back down again, 2 inches this time, before stopping to adjust once more. You kept this up until you could take about half of him comfortably, realizing it was taking a long time. You opened your eyes to look at Eli, and noticed that he had his eyes closed, brows furrowed, jaw clenched, breathing labored. Jesus, he was probably dying right now.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, full of embarrassment. His eyes snapped open at this.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, embracing you. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“It’s taking a long time and I can tell you’re not having fun,” you worried.

“I’m having the time of my life right now, Y/N. Seriously. This is the most amazing feeling I’ve ever felt. Please don’t worry about me. This is about you.”

This was everything you really ever wanted. A guy who was giving you the time you needed to adjust and be comfortable. Why the heck were you questioning it??

You smiled lightly at his kind words, nodding your head in agreement, and then started your routine of up, down, pause, again. Several minutes later, you were fully seated on Eli’s cock. You didn’t move, instead saying “This is normally where I stop. I’m not really sure what to do now.” He brought his hands up to cup your face, kissing you softly.

“I guess, you can stay like this for as long as you need? And then maybe we can try moving a little bit?” he answered. You nodded in response, and after a few moments, you lifted your hips and sank back down. The friction felt slightly uncomfortable, but you tried again nonetheless in an effort to power through it. This time, you felt a stinging sensation, wincing lightly but hoping Eli wouldn’t notice. He did.

“Stop,” he muttered.

“I can keep going,” you pleaded.

“Y/N, I said stop.” You did. “You’re in pain,” he pointed out.

“I’m fine,” you said, but avoided his gaze.

“Why are you lying?” he questioned, sounding hurt, which made you finally look at him.

“I- I… I don’t know. I want to be able to do this, but it stings,” you said sadly.

“Well then we’ll stay just like this,” he said sweetly as he brought a hand up to pet your hair. You once again nodded, too mad at yourself to say anything. “You’re doing so good,” he added.

Instead of answering, you leaned in to kiss him. Making out had been fun, but making out while Eli was inside you was a whole new level of intimacy. His hands wandered everywhere. First to cup your face, then down to squeeze your breasts, then to the small of your back and around to your ass. After a few minutes of this, he brought one of his hands back around and down to your center. And this boy was a fast learner. He had the exact right spot, rhythm, and pressure on the first try this time, making you moan softly into his mouth. He smiled into the kiss, proud that he got you feeling good again. He kept this up, careful not to change a thing. You felt a heat pool in your stomach, your center craving more, so you began to involuntarily grind your hips into his hand.

You gasped as the tip of his dick put pressure on a certain spot inside you. He noticed your gasp, letting the hand that wasn’t on your clit go to your hip in an effort to guide you to grind against him some more. Once you realized this movement didn’t hurt, you rolled your hips over his. Not the up and down that you had tried before, but side to side, back and forth, and in circles. And it felt good. You began to let out small moans at the combination of the pressure inside you and the feeling of Eli’s fingers massaging you. His eyebrows began to furrow and his breathing labored. This was his first time, so the small movements you were making were enough to bring him to the edge.

“Shit, Y/N,” he murmured. You moaned loudly in response, and the sound made Eli’s eyes roll back in his head. He had to think of the most un-sexy things just to keep himself from cumming. You guys kept at it for god knows how long, until you felt that heat in your stomach turn into a heavy knot about to unravel.

“Eli, I think I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, almost surprised. You had not been expecting an orgasm during your first time. You kept grinding your hips at the same pace, hoping that he would keep doing exactly what he was doing with his fingers. And he did. Your moans got higher and higher in pitch as you got closer to the edge, your legs beginning to shake from the effort. Your stomach dropped, and you came hard, mouth open in a silent scream. 30 seconds later, you came down, finally opening your eyes to see Eli looking at you like you were an absolute goddess. You reached down to peel his fingers off you, the sensations becoming too much to handle. However, you kept grinding in an effort to get Eli to cum too. About a minute later, his eyes squeezed shut as his hips stuttered under you and he spilled into the condom.

As soon as he opened his eyes, the first thing he said was, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

You huffed a laugh, “I’m more than okay. That was awesome.”

He looked relieved that you had had a good time, and nodded, “Yeah, totally awesome.”

You gave him one last kiss before sitting up and pulling off of him. As you stood, your legs shook, knees threatening to give out. “Woah,” you murmured under your breath.

“Here,” Eli said as he guided you by the waist to lay on the couch. He went into the bathroom and came out with a clean, damp towel and wiped you off as best he could before handing it to you to finish up. He gathered both of your clothes, handing yours back to you, when his phone once again buzzed on the coffee table. He picked it up when his face suddenly dropped.

“Shit. Demitri’s here.”

You both shared a shocked look before scrambling to get dressed. Eli threw the coconut oil and condom wrapper into the bathroom, and turned to notice your neck covered in hickeys. He ran into his room, grabbing a hoodie and walking over to you, motioning for you to put your arms up. He put the hoodie on you, and pulled your hair up through the hood to cover the sides of your neck. Just then, you heard the front door open and Demitri yell “Hey guys! You better not have started without me!” He rounded the corner and came down the stairs, looking at both of you sitting on opposite sides of the couch, staring at the black TV screen just as you had been exactly 2 hours ago. He plopped down on the couch in between you guys and grabbed the remote, switching it on. When he went to put it back on the coffee table, he noticed a small scrap of fabric on the floor. He bent down, grabbed, and held up your underwear.

“Ok, what the fuck did I miss?”

#cobra kai #hawk x reader #eli x reader #eli moskowitz #demitri cobra kai #jacob bertrand #miguel x reader #karate kid #vaginismus #hawk smut #eli moskowitz smut

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Would an individual ask about Caleb ending up with the reader instead of Essek at the end of campaign be alright? I love the wizard bois together, but I'm crushing baaaad on Caleb hehe. Maybe they teach and live happily ever after together, very domestic living after all the adventures they've had :3

Hoping to satisfy your Caleb crush. How's this for some domestic fluff? Enjoy! 😘

The first rays of sunlight are blocked by thick heavy curtains. Awake or asleep, Caleb’s sense of time never fails him. He wakes up bright and early on the minute precise but makes no move to truly start his day. How could he with the sight he wakes to? There you lay, in his arms, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. Never did he think he’d see you so relaxed, or allow yourself to be so relaxed. Sure your lives are not free of stress or the occasional disaster and rarely are your livelihoods in peril these days but compared to months ago that doesn’t even come close to the dangers you’ve faced together; dangers that the majority of the people will never know about. A moment of peace and quiet was just another luxury you and him couldn’t truly afford no matter how much you may have pretended. But now you finally know peace.

Caleb watches your eyes flutter beneath your eyelids and watches just a moment longer carefully trailing his fingers up from their place on your waist to your cheek, caressing it fondly as you sleep. He reminisces when and where your lives intertwined in that tavern in Trostenwald and the events leading you both here together in your shared apartment in Rexxentrum at the Soltryce Academy as respectable teachers of the arts you both love.

When you first met Caleb feared you. He feared you more than anything for you just like him had ties to the Cerberus Assembly but you did not suffer the same fate he had. Luckily your studies were of no interest of his former master and you were instead claimed by another sent out into the world to learn more and find your own way. He was so scared you might lead the Assembly to his nonexistent doorstep and at one point entertained the thought you were a spy sent to bring him back but you proved the opposite. When he revealed his story and you told him you would help him or die trying beside him he brushed you off. Persistent as you are you gave him the wakeup call of a lifetime saying that you’re not doing this just for him but everyone before him, everyone after him.

To Caleb you will always represent all that is good and pure in this world despite the horrors that may have shaped you, changed you for better or worse. He will always consider himself to be the luckiest man in the world to have you at his side as his confidant, moral compass, study-mate, intellectual equal, bailout, friend, partner, but most of all; his lover for he could not want for anyone else in the world. No one could ever replace you and no one can compare to you. You may tell him you’re not the most intelligent, quick-witted, charming or interesting individual in the world but to him you are and he will argue with you on that until you grow tired of him and are forced to accept. He certainly does not mind the fluster of your cheeks and kiss you offer to shut him up.

And now you lie asleep cuddled up against him, limbs intertwined, the sunset orange covers slipping from your shoulder. Caleb hears the birds begin their song signalling he must leave the warm comforts of your embrace so carefully he begins to untangle his legs from yours, his arm from underneath your head replacing it by quickly pulling the pillow above down. He begins to untangle your grasp on his shirt slowly removing your fingers one by one. A deep intake of breath on your end and adjustment of your legs below the covers has him worried he’s woken you up.

Caleb knows fully well you have your own ways of waking up on time and you would have asked him the night before if he ought to wake you, so since you’re not already awake he’ll give you every extra minute of sleep you can get. You deserve it so he’ll curse himself if he’s the one to ruin it. Once you have adjusted and he’s sure you’re still sleeping he continues and removes himself from the warm comforts you’re huddled up among longing for nothing more than to share them a minute longer and gathers his things. In putting his lesson plans, notes and a few books to pass the time for the day he bends down to allow the orange tabby to jump into his arms and sets the cat onto the table taking a moment to stroke its fur and give some chin scratches leaving the little beastie purring.

Ridding himself of his night clothes Caleb puts on his shirt, and trousers tucking the shirt into the waistband and moves on to his footwear as per his usual routine. He takes the vest set out for him and is about to button it up when he feels eyes on him. His first thoughts go to the cat but that one’s not the guilty audience so instead his eyes fall to you, propped up against the headboard watching him.

“Well don’t stop on my accord. Though, I prefer the clothes back on the chair.” Your voice is still riddled with sleep but you’re awake enough for your comments so Caleb feels justified to give you a disapproving scowl though he cannot prevent the smile from creeping up his lips.

“Good morning to you too.” Caleb smiles as you cover a yawn with the back of your hand. You pull yourself out of the bed and stumble over to Caleb until you’re toe to toe placing a hand on his cheek guiding him into a kiss. Your lips move against his and his arms wrap around you to return and welcome your efforts openly. Though, enough’s enough and Caleb breaks the kiss giving you one final peck in an attempt to kiss away the onset disappointment and pout on your end.

“No matter how much I’d like to continue, Astrid will have both of our heads we show up late.” Caleb runs his fingers through your hair kissing your cheek as you cross your arms. Is there nothing you can do to convince him to stay? He might be right about Astrid…

“Well, I do not have any classes until second period but if you’re so adamant to stay with me I can send the archmage a message to tell her you’re regretful to be missing your first class of the day and to find a substitute.” You’re joking. Not really. A joke hiding the actual offer. Caleb considers it for a brief moment purely to entertain the thought but he knows very well he shouldn’t.

“You know we can’t but how about I make it up to you with dinner and dancing and a night in? Just the two of us.” Caleb cups your cheeks stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs, a gesture he knows very well makes you melt.

“That sounds like an agreeable offer, professor Widogast.” Your acceptance brings another bright smile to his face and he pulls you into another chaste kiss to seal the deal. This time you’re the one to pull away.

“Best get you ready for the day then, lest you be late.” Your nimble fingers stroke down the front of his chest finding the buttons of his vest and one by one buttoning them up. Once you’re done you take a few steps back looking him over.

“Do I pass your inspection, professor?” Caleb laughs half the mind to do a little spin for you but he refrains instead lifting the cat from the table into his arms.

“With flying colours. I think his highness is inclined to agree.” You watch as the cat meows making himself comfortable in your wizard’s arms without any intent to go anywhere but alas, all good things come to an end be it for the cat or you. With some protests Caleb puts the cat back on the ground allowing the creature to skitter off to gods know where.

You pull open the curtains allowing the light of dawn to fill the room. Caleb already regrets the decision of not taking you up on your offer to call in late and miss his first class as you look absolutely radiant but he feels certain both of you will be missing second and possibly even third period if he does, so he must refrain. Tonight will make up for it. He’s already got the perfect place in mind for dinner.

You catch Caleb staring, his gaze following you as you pull at the heavy fabric until the outside world is revealed to you. You put a little sway in your step before you gather your own clothes for the day and change in your usual attire, slowly. Deliberately slow. If he’s already staring you better not waste your opportunity and make a show of it.

“No use in staying in bed all alone. His Highness makes for good company but he’s a dull conversationalist. Perhaps I’ll drop by Beau at the Archives?” You deliberate your events for the morning tapping your chin.

“If you do, tell the Expositor I have some more files for her to study.” Caleb, finally pulled out of his trance steps back over to you, or rather besides you to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. You know he’s about to be off so you wrap your arm around his waist as you guide him to the door. Not much you can change about the need for students to be taught the wonders of transmutation magic. While you may find times you’d want to spend more time together, in the end neither of you would ever want to give up teaching. There’s plenty of other times you can spend together happily. Or you can justify combining your classes for one reason or another as you love nothing more than to share your passions.

“I’ll see you in a few hours at the Academy?” Caleb watches as you fall silent for a moment, your focus drawn away.

“Yes, I’ll make sure he knows. We’ll be there. Thank you.” You speak but Caleb knows fully well it’s not directed at him. This has become a habit he’s very much gotten used to so he simply awaits for you to share the message.

“Astrid wants us for lunch. She threatened to limit your access to the library if you’re late.” Of course she does, Caleb thinks to himself. So the archmage may or may not have heard about his almost-arrest of the day before. He’d already gotten an earful from you.

“Of course she does. There go our lunch plans for our free period.”

“You’re the one to get arrested for- and I quote ‘encourage insurgence among young impressionable souls’.” You grin. Okay, you may have been a little proud of Caleb actively trying to do better but you could do without the accusations of treason. You’d rather not have Caleb spend the night in jail because word got out or he pissed off the wrong person. You’d expect this from Beauregard but had hoped Caleb would be more careful about it and so apparently thought Astrid. He’s in for a scolding according to her tone.

“Merely teaching young impressionable souls how to be better. Is that a crime?” You grab Caleb’s coat and help him into it as he offers you a ‘thank you’.

“According to the king, yes it is.” The amusement in your voice is enough to earn you a playful glare. You open the door for Caleb and he steps halfway out offering you one final kiss.

“Love you.” Caleb pecks your lips. You’ve drawn out the length of the kiss long enough and he’s already on the verge of running late now so no matter how much he may want to stay, he has to go.

“Love you too, Caleb. See you soon and for the love of the arcane arts; stay out of trouble.” You know he won’t make that promise as he can’t keep it but you still tell him to every time. You kiss his cheek stepping back and watching the wizard leave as you close the door. Nothing but a usual morning; sneaking out of bed, cats, kisses, a message from your friend the archmage, talks of treason and the love of two fate-entwined mages trying to make the world a better place.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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undyingskies · 3 years

Text

Adrenaline

A/N: This one wasn’t a requested but I absolutely loved writing this one. I got the idea from a tiktok, the girl was listening to the song called Fallin’ by Why Don’t We for 3 hours straight. It made me listen to the song and it reminded me of Charlie for some reason which lead to the creation of this fic! To those who have request imagines know I have seen them and will get to them, I got caught up in this fic and another one for Owen, but I promise I’m going to get them out as fast as I can! I really hope you guys enjoy this one, I really love it! xoxo

Warnings: Few curse words.

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Here you are again, caught up in the moment not thinking twice. Your sandwiched between the wall and Charlie, your hand tangled in his hair, his under your thighs, and your lips moving fast and passionately against one another.

The adrenaline rushing through your veins, everything frozen except the two of you in that small corridor, hiding from everyone else.

You see this whole thing with Charlie started about a month ago, you had no idea how it started or where it would lead but here you are again, melting into his touch. Even though you always tell yourself that one was the last time when he’s finished with you.

You and Charlie were just two close friends for the longest time. You were hired to work on season two of Julie and The Phantoms as an intern for Soyon. You always loved fashion and wanted to do costume work on sets so this was your opportunity and you weren’t going to let anything get in the way of that. You jumped on the first plane you could get and made your way to Vancouver, Canada. Your three bags in tow, carrying everything you owned.

Kenny and producers had arranged for an apartment for you but it wouldn’t be available until three weeks after you arrived. They underestimated your ability to pack quickly and find a ticket out almost immediately. The only apartment having three bedrooms being Owen and Charlie’s, which they were kind enough to let you use at Kenny’s request.

It all started out so innocent, you and the boys immediately had a connection. You and Owen sharing a similar humor and personality. Charlie and you sharing the same love for nature and love for adrenaline.

You and Charlie quickly started going on adventures with one another. You started exploring the city and the nature surrounding it. Charlie being Canadian came in handy as he was familiar with the hiking trails that surrounded you guys.

One day he came up to you, about two days before you were finally moving into your own apartment. He told you that he found a new hiking trail with a bridge and on that bridge you could bungee jump off of it. You agreed immediately with no hesitation. That’s the day that changed the dynamic of your friendship.

You felt the adrenaline pumping through your body as you stood at the edge of the bridge. Charlie’s hand in yours, a bright smile on his face.

“You ready?” He leans over and asks you as you start to hear the countdown for the jump.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You tell him back with a similar smile on your face. Hearing the faint count of 3, 2, 1.

That’s when you jumped. Yours and Charlie’s yelling drowning out any other noises. You bounce up and down a few times, laughter leaving the both of you.

As you come to slow down, laughter still erupting from the both of you, Charlie’s eye lock in on yours. His laughter slowly dies down as he stares through what feels like your soul. Before you knew it or could ask him what’s up, you felt his lips on yours. That familiar feeling of adrenaline pumping through your veins. You immediately reciprocate the kiss back.

That’s when it all changed. From that day on it was you and Charlie. Anytime you guys could find, his body was on yours and you couldn’t get enough of each other. On set he would pull you into empty closets, sets that weren’t in use, and every-time that adrenaline would come back pumping through the both of you.

You two had agreed to keep it a secret, it was a part of the fun. Knowing you could get caught. You also agreed that it was just physical nothing else. You never planned for the feelings to come with it, but of course like any story they did. Now here you are a month later telling yourself this was the last time; you wouldn’t let it happen again.

But your hearts beating fast and you can’t help but think why do I love this feeling?

Voices and steps break you out of your thoughts. Charlie’s lips and hands on you, making you feel more vulnerable. Your quick to detach your lips and body from his. That fire feeling fading away in the both of you. He gives you a confused look.

“People are coming Char.” You tell him, you grab his hand to pull him around the corner and out of the now occupied hallway. Your back in the parking lot of the set.

“That was a close one Y/N.” He says with a laugh.

“Ya a close one.” You tell him trailing off, beginning to get lost in your thoughts again. Charlie notices but doesn’t say anything, he had to get back to set to film in Julies garage.

“Well I guess I will see you after we’re done here. Meet you at my car tonight?” He asks you. You reach out to fix the beanie placed on his head, the stylist coming out in you. You start to fiddle with the sleeveless tank on him, trying to make it perfect so no one has an idea of what was just going on.

He laughs at your fiddling hands, grabbing onto them and pulling them away from his body.

“It’s fine they won’t know.” As much as you don’t want to admit it, Charlie knows you like the back of his hand and knows what you’re thinking even if you don’t say it out loud. He places a kiss to your forehead before he’s skipping off to set, sending you a wink before he’s gone. Heat rushes to your cheeks at his actions.

Then you’re left alone standing in the middle of the parking lot looking dazed. Savannah rounding the corner, laughing at the scene in front of her as you come into focus.

“Little sneak away fun with Charlie again?” She says sneaking up on you with a laugh at the look on your face.

“What? No? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tell her. She smirks at your words.

“Come on Y/N, you don’t think I’ve caught on? You two always disappearing and coming back together. You staying late when you don’t have too and leaving with him. Plus we’re best friends you don’t think I’ve noticed the way you two look at each other? It’s practically heart eyes from both ends.” She tells you, in a serious tone.

“Fine. You’re right but I don’t want to talk about it here.” She nods at your words, agreeing with you.

“My trailer?” She asks you; you follow her as she walks towards it.

That’s when you empty out all your thoughts and feelings to her. You didn’t realize how much you had been keeping in the last month. You told her how it started, the deal you guys made, and your feelings for him. And by the end of your story and all your confessions, all she had to say was,

“I think you should tell him how you feel.”

Did she not hear what you just said? How you guys agreed that this was a no feelings deal, it was for the purpose of pleasure and the two of yours addiction to adrenaline.

“I think you missed the point there Sav. I can’t, I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I would rather end it and keep our friendship than ruin it all.”

“Your delusional if you think he doesn’t like you back, you don��t see the way he looks at you. Everyone else does though.” She tells you and places a hand on your shoulder.

“You should think about it at least.”

“Okay, I will.” You tell her. I don’t think either of you believing your words. Your eyes travel to look at the clock. It read 8:02, you were late meeting Charlie.

“Oh, I got to go. Thanks for the talk Sav, I appreciate it.” You tell her and pull her into a hug.

You make your away around the parking lot pretty quickly, looking to see the mop of brown hair that you really have come to love. You spot him next to the orange car, he refused to admit was a weird color. Your eyes land on him and then quickly to the figure standing in front of him with her hands on his arm laughing.

You stop dead in your tracks, your heart dropping into your stomach. Your throat tightening at the scene, hands sweaty and shaking by your sides. You don’t want to feel like this, you know you two promised each other that what you had was nothing. He was allowed to look and talk to other girls, but you can’t shake the feeling in your stomach.

Charlie looks up and notices you standing back just looking at the scene in front of you. A smile makes its way onto his face at the sight of you. He quickly moves to the side of the girl, gently pushing her away, and is walking towards you.

“Hey Y/N, ready to go?” He asks you, stopping once he is in front of you. He grabs your hand but you quickly slip yours out of his. He frowns at your action but quickly composes himself.

He places his hand on your lower back and walks you to the car, opening the passenger door for you. You slide in, awkwardly smiling at the girl just standing there watching the interaction between the two of you.

“Well it was nice meeting you Josie, see you around.” He tells her, sending her a quick wave before he jumps into the driver’s seat of the car and starts the engine. Not looking back at her once.

The two of you sit in silence, you consumed in your thoughts and him just confused by your actions. He tries to place his hand on your thigh but you move it out of reach. Another frown makes his way onto his face.

He makes the drive to your apartment, you agreed to go there tonight because Owen had an early day and would be at the boys apartment. He was already suspicious of the two of you so Charlie didn’t want to risk trying to sneak you in.

You quickly unbuckle your seat belt and hop out of the car. You keep a quick pace as you make your way into your apartment building. Charlie has to jog to catch up with you, seriously confused at your actions. He doesn’t know why you’re acting like this.

As you make your way into your apartment opening the door, Charlie takes the advantage of the moment and presses his body against yours. His lips finding their way onto your neck, trailing kisses up and down them. You freeze at the contact of him against you, basking in the pleasure for a second.

Your thoughts catch up with you and you move fast to get your body away from his. He stumbles at the loss of contact. He tries to reach for you again, the third time that night and you slip out of it again.

Charlie starts to feel frustrated at your actions, not knowing why you’re acting that way and starting to get nervous he did something wrong.

He goes to stand in front of but you quickly make your way around him and into the kitchen. He’s right on your heel though.

“Okay Y/N what gives? Why are you acting so weird? We were fine earlier so what happened?” He asks you and you can hear the frustration and confusion laced in his tone.

You shake your head, trying to brush it off.

“Nothing, everything’s fine.” You tell him, pouring water into a cup. He takes it out of your hand and places it besides you. He has you turn to face him. The two of you are chest to chest, his arms placed on both sides of you so you can’t escape him or avoid eye contact.

He leans into kiss you but you turn your head fast, his lips making contact with your cheek. The frustration Charlie feels starts to boil over.

“Everything’s fine? Are you sure about that Y/N you won’t look at me or let me touch you!! What is going on?” He asks you, slightly yelling at this point.

You shove him off of you and walk past him. You don’t want to do this with him, not now. Well never really but at some point, you knew you would have too.

You lean your head against your fridge, letting out a sigh before you turn to look back at him.

“I can’t do this anymore Char, we’ve got to stop whatever this is between us.” His face falls at your words.

“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore? I thought we were having fun, just this morning it was fine...” He says slowly taking a step towards you. You put your hand up to stop him from walking closer.

“I know, but the more I think about it the more I need to stop it. Neither of us knew where this would lead when we started it and I just can’t do it anymore.” You let out with a sigh. Charlie feels sadness overcome him; his heart feels like it’s breaking a little bit.

Little did you know how Charlie was feeling. He never wanted to make the deal of keeping it just physical, but he agreed with you not wanting to ruin your friendship or stop what was happening between the two of you. He was just happy that he was getting a piece of you to himself. Charlie had fallen for you pretty much the second he saw you and heard your laugh.

“That doesn’t feel like a real reason Y/N, just an excuse. If you give me the real reason then fine, we’ll end this and we will just go back to being just friends. But I need a reason not an excuse before I leave.” He tells you, sounding desperate.

You don’t want to tell him the real reason. You don’t want to ruin the friendship you two have. It wouldn’t be the same if you told him, you two couldn’t just go back to being two friends if he knew your real feelings.

“That is the real reason Charlie.” You tell him, dropping your hand and looking down at your feet. You couldn’t handle his stare anymore.

You watch his feet walk towards you. His hand being placed under your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Please just tell me.” He says just above a whisper, he no longer feels upset. He’s just sad.

You just sigh. You didn’t know what to do, the look on his face breaks your heart. You didn’t want to hurt him or make him sad and you can’t understand why this is doing that to him. You can feel the frustration boiling up in you.

You shove him off of you. You start pacing around your island.

“Tell you Charlie! You really want to know why?” This time you’re the one yelling. You can’t help but feel frustrated at your feelings and confusion. All he does is nod yes.

“Because Charlie! You make me reckless! The feeling of you and I together makes me reckless! I’ve been putting my job on the line to sneak around with you, I’m lying to my friends about what I’m doing when I am with you. I’m lying to myself and you!” You tell.

“What does that even mean Y/N, you’re lying to me?” He asks, his voice slightly raised.

“I love you, you idiot! I’ve been lying about my feelings to the both of us! I can’t do this anymore, this no feelings only physical stuff! It’s not fair to me.” You get quieter at the end of your confession.

Silence fills the air, neither of you say a word. He is just looking at you in shock. You standing on the other side of the island, your arms placed limply on the sides of your body. You look completely defeated.

Charlie doesn’t say a word just steps towards again. Again you lift your arms up, hoping to stop him. He grabs your hands.

“Would you just please let me get close to you?” He asks desperate. You let out a sigh and allow him to come closer.

He drops your hands and places his onto your cheeks, not allowing your head to fall so he could maintain eye contact with you.

“You don’t think I feel the same? Something about you makes me feel insane. I can’t control myself around you, I get a rush of adrenaline anytime I’m with you.” His confession being met with another cloud of silence.

You don’t know what to say, you just keep looking at him. You can see his eyes looking at you desperately, looking around your face hoping he could understand what you’re feeling based on your features. He can’t though.

“Please say something.” He practically begs.

“I don’t-, I don’t know what to say...” You trail off.

“Tell me you feel the same, you just admitted you loved me. Why can’t you admit you want more and that you feel the same adrenaline.” He tells you.

“Charlie...” You trail off. “You know I feel the same way about you. This whole time. You’re like a breath of fresh air, it’s never boring with you, the more we got together the more I needed you. I’m scared though, I’ve never felt like this before. Plus there are so many girls who you could get, why me?”

“Why you? Because Y/N, I’ve never met someone like you. You match me on every level, your love for adventure, your humor. You’re so sweet, you never hesitate to act in kindness rather than anything else no matter the situation. I love you. I have loved you pretty much since the minute I saw you.” He tells you. He places his forehead on yours, both of you breathing harder than usual due to the feeling of adrenaline rushing through the both of you because of your confessions.

“Will you please let me kiss you.” He asks you again the desperation laced in his words. You nod your head yes.

That’s when his lips meet yours, in the most passionate kiss the two of you have ever shared. His hands make their way down to your waist pulling you closer, as yours make their way up to the nape of his neck and entangling in his hair. You can feel the both of you pouring all your emotions into this kiss, letting each other know that both of your confessions are true.

You pull apart breathing heavy.

“Make me a promise, tell me that you’ll stay with me.” You tell him, your insecurities getting the best of you for a moment. He smiles at you though.

“Of course baby, I’m not scared to jump in if you want to.” He tells you, pulling you in for another kiss.

“Let’s just keep falling in love for the hell of it.” He tells you as you pull apart, his signature smirk plastered across his face, and he sends you a wink.

You laugh at his words.

“Ya of course, just for the hell of it.” You laugh as you pull him back into you, placing another kiss on his lips.

You pull apart and make your way to sit on the couch to just enjoy the company of each other. He places his head in your lap, you immediately start to run your fingers through his hair as if it’s second nature. He smiles at your actions and leans into your touch more.

“I guess I have to tell Owen he was right. I owe him 10 bucks.” Charlie says breaking the silence.

“What do you mean you owe him 10 bucks??” You say confused.

“Well you see, Owen and I may have made a bet about me falling for you. He said the minute you walked in the door and he saw my face when I looked at you, and he knew I was falling for you. I didn’t believe him.” You nod your head, encouraging him to continue the story.

“Then basically he bet me that I would fall for you before the end of this year. I didn’t think us hooking up counted since it was a secret so I wasn’t gonna tell him he won. But I guess I have to now.” He says scratching the back of his neck as a nervous habit.

You laugh at his words, only Charlie would make such a bet. The adrenaline junkie and his competitiveness always getting the best of him.

“You’re not mad?” He asks you at hearing your laughter.

“Not at all, that is such a Gillespie move.” You tell him, leaning down to place your lips on his.

You can’t help but laugh at Charlie’s antics, truly he is the only person who would engage in such a thing. But that’s just another reason why you’ve fallen for the boy.

Charlie switches positions so he’s sitting next to you rather laying on top of you. He throws his arm over your shoulders and pulls you into him. You lay your head on his chest, you smile and you feel him press a kiss to your head. This is just another start to a wonderful adventure with Mr. Charlie Gillespie.

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie imagine #charlie x reader #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x reader #charliegillespieimagines #charlie gillespie fic #charlie gillespie fluff #charlie gillespie fanfiction #jatp #julie and the phantoms #julieandthephantomsimagine

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