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malfoysstilinski · 3 years

Note

Hello love, I absolutely adore your writing. <3 Could you maybe do a tooth-rotting dracoxreader fluff. It can be anything, I just love soft draco sm haha. Tbh I feel like theres no such thing as too much soft draco asjdkhfask.

thank you so much!! hope this is okay :))

post shower | draco malfoy (fluff)

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: you like picking out draco’s clothes for him and playing with his hair after he’s had a shower. and he’ll never admit it, but he likes it too.

warnings: extremely healthy relationship and soft!draco

word count: 1.9k

a/n: there’s a part where draco plays with your hair and i’m sorry if it’s not inclusive to yours (curly, afro-textured, braided etc.), i generally try to keep my imagines inclusive but this idea was just stuck in my head!! it’s quite brief but i thought i’d acknowledge that i realise some poc readers and others with curly hair just might not be able to relate and i’m really sorry about that!! :( but again, it doesn’t make up the whole imagine! <33

also not proof-read!!

....

18.00. my dorm. prepare for cuddles.

my mother sent over some more of

those sweets you said you liked.

yours, draco

The ripped piece of parchment in your hand included an inked sketch beneath it; the image of a wrapped sweetie surrounded by some scribbled-out love hearts. Your heart skipped a beat at the message written in Draco’s usual rushed cursive, a small smile threatening to twitch at the corners of your lips. Glancing up towards the direction the charmed crane had come in, you sent the blond boy already watching you a small nod of confirmation.

A wink was your reward before he turned back to face Professor Snape at the front of the classroom. It made your heart flutter and your stomach fill with butterflies as you wondered how you’d ended up with a boyfriend as perfect as Draco Malfoy.

Not many would theorise that he was a secret romantic, but then again, not many truly knew Draco for who he actually was. You adored him - the way he looked, the way he smelled, how he loved you, his voice, his laugh, his jokes, and his sarcastic comments. If there was one person on the planet guaranteed to make you smile, it was the Malfoy heir.

You were thrilled to be invited back to his dorm, even if this was quite a regular occurrence that you probably should be more used to by now. The thought of spending the evening after a long day of lessons with Draco cuddled up on his bed eating sweets sent by his mother sounded like a dream come true. There was no other way you’d rather spend your time.

The rest of the day couldn’t have gone by slower, though. You finished your classes and then skipped dinner to shower, knowing you’d be stuffing your face later anyway. By the time you’d slipped on comfier clothes than your school uniform and had dried your hair, it was nearly time for you to head to Draco’s dormitory. He was lucky enough to have his own one as a prefect, with a huge bed and silk green sheets that felt amazing against your skin.

You did some last minute homework for your Herbology class in the morning, though your mind seemed to constantly drag back to your boyfriend. He was like some sort of drug and you clearly had an addiction.

Perhaps the best part was that the love she had for Draco was mirrored back onto her by the boy; their love was a redamancy to be jealous of. Students and teachers alike could see the adoration in their eyes when they looked at each other. They saw the grin on your face and the slight blush on Draco’s cheeks and knew that if what you two had wasn’t love, then love didn’t exist at all.

You had your ups and downs, of course you did. No relationship was ever always perfect. However, it was the way you were constantly able to bounce back and be stronger than before that kept the fire burning between the two of you. It was the way that Draco had worked on his communication, knowing it was the only way he’d be able to keep you, and how you’d worked on being more patient with him that meant the two of you could fall so indescribably in love.

So when you turned up to Draco’s dormitory at exactly 6 pm sharp, you opened the door without knocking, more than certain he wouldn’t mind. He never did. However, Draco was nowhere to be seen in his room. You thought maybe you’d managed to read the note wrong until you heard the running water coming from his bathroom.

You smiled to yourself as you headed towards his bed, dropping on top of the silky sheets you loved so much, your fingers tracing on top of it. Your ears strained to listen out for Draco, a deep hum filling your ears that you knew belonged to him. He had a good singing voice, but he refused to believe it whenever you told him.

You closed your eyes and listened as he hummed in the shower, his voice echoing off the walls in a way that had you wishing you could not only listen but watch him sing it. You weren’t sure when Draco stopped humming or when the water shut off, but the next thing you knew, the bathroom door was opening, steam rolling out as well as the scent of his green apple shampoo.

“Ah, darling,” Draco greeted upon seeing you lying on his bed.

You sat up, beaming at him. A white towel hung around his hips, his platinum hair wet on his head and dripping down his broad shoulders onto his platinum skin. You thought he looked beautiful like this, like some sort of God you’d like to worship. Especially with the smile that he wore upon his face, one that was reserved for you and you only.

“Hi, my love,” you said back, watching as he began to hunt through his drawers for something to wear. “You said six.”

“I must have lost track of time,” Draco admitted, “Cold days are meant for hot showers, you know.”

“No, cold days are meant for cuddles with your girlfriend,” you protested, but nevertheless scooted off the bed to join him by his dresser. “What are you gonna wear?”

“Y’wanna dress me up again, don’t you?” Draco acted as if he was annoyed, but a smile was threatening to tug at his lips.

“It’ll be cosy, ‘promise,” you replied, your hands moving through his dresser, hunting for the pair of black jogging bottoms that you liked on him. “Top or no?”

“No,” Draco replied as he stood in front of his mirror, towel drying his hair.

You found a pair of socks for him too, knowing how he hated if his feet got cold. As Draco cast a charm to dry his blond locks, you settled everything on the end of his bed for him and then began hunting through his drawers once more. You found one of his black tees and pulled your own off, shrugging his on instead.

Arms wrapped around your waist as soon as it went over your head and you shrieked as you were hauled onto his bed. You laughed as Draco suddenly crawled between your legs so he was straddling you a little, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.

“Did I say you could wear that, pretty girl?” Draco fauxed a glare.

“Please,” you pouted at him. “It’s comfy and smells so good. Like you.”

Draco rolled his eyes in amusement, smiling again as he kissed your forehead. “You’re lucky you’re so gorgeous. Can’t say no when you pull that face, can I?”

You beamed, feeling your cheeks heat up a little bit. You realised Draco had already pulled the joggers and socks on, his top half naked as he moved to grab his comb off of the dresser.

“Let me do it for you,” you said, holding your hand out.

Draco shot you a look. “Not a doll for you to dress up, you know.”

“‘Just wanna comb your hair for you,” you huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed, your legs dangling over the mattress.

Draco moved to stand in between them, your face level with his body as he began to brush the comb through the back of your own hair. Smiling, you leaned your head against his stomach, wrapping your arms around his middle and enjoying the sensations and tingles that Draco brushing your hair spread through your body.

Your eyes closed and you swore you could fall asleep like it - one of his large palms on your back, his comb brushing through your hair, the warmth of his toned stomach against your cheek and the smell of his aftershave and body wash fresh in your senses.

“You washed your hair, didn’t you?” Draco hummed, his hand moving off your back as he ditched the comb, his fingers playing with it.

“Yeah, had a shower before I came here,” you murmured, not peeling your eyes open, just relishing in the feeling of complete relaxation with your favourite person in the entire world.

“I can tell,” Draco murmured, his fingers gliding effortlessly through your newly-combed hair. “Your hair is really soft after washing it.”

“Good,” you replied, smiling a little against him. “That’s kind of the point of washing your hair, you know.”

“No, it’s to keep it clean,” Draco protested.

“It’s for both,” you compromised, knowing how stubborn he could get quickly. “Now can I comb your hair.”

About a minute later, Draco’s room was playing music quietly and he was slouched between your legs on the bed, the bag of sweets his mother had bought you both on his lap. Your back rested against the headboard behind you, your hands brushing through his silky platinum locks. You put the comb down, beginning to part his hair into tiny sections.

“Sweet?” Draco offered, his mouth full as he lifted his arm behind himself.

He felt you lean forwards and capture the sweet between your teeth from where your hands were occupied in his hair, making him chuckle. Draco knew you were making small plaits with the longer sections of his hair, but he closed his eyes and pretended he had no idea. To be honest, he cherished the feeling of you being so close to him, of your hands in his hair, your nails scratching gently on his scalp every now and then.

“Feels good?” You hummed, glancing down at him and seeing that his silver eyes had shut.

They flickered back open at your question, smiling when he saw you looking down at him. “A bit,” he admitted, which was an under exaggeration. He loved it.

“‘Nother sweetie, please,” you called as you moved onto your third tiny plait.

Draco’s hand came back over and fed the sweet straight into your mouth. You giggled as you carried on plaiting, humming lightly to yourself. A tug a little harder than the rest caused Draco to dramatically cry out.

“Ow!” Draco hissed, “Watch what you’re doing, woman!”

“Shh, I’m just braiding your hair,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “And if you call me woman like that one more time I will shove this comb so far up your arse-”

“Okay, okay,” Draco winced at the imagery. “By woman I meant ‘my lovely, beautiful, sweet, kind, intelligent girlfriend who I love with my whole heart’.”

“You’re such a kiss arse, Malfoy,” you replied, running your hand over the small plaits you’d created. “They look cute. You should grow your hair out like your father so I can do really good ones-”

“Y/N!” Draco grimaced, “If I ever grow my hair out as long as my fathers, feel free to cut it off for me in the middle of the night.”

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead as you cradled his head in your lap, your nails lightly scratching his skin. “Okay, okay. I like you with this haircut anyway. And I like the lack of gel in it. Looks so fluffy and cute.”

“Not what I’m going for, but thanks, darling,” Draco remarked, grabbing another sweet for himself. “You’re comfy, by the way.”

You simply hummed back as you began to undo the plaits, knowing Draco would be annoyed if you forgot and he had little curly bits in the morning. You grazed your fingers back through, watching his eyes flicker back.

“I love you,” Draco murmured sincerely. “So much.”

Your heart swelled. “I love you too, Draco.”

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isamijoo · 3 years

Text

Hush, hush

Written for @drarrymicrofic prompt: 'fresh'. 951 words. Secret relationship, non-explicit sex, cigar smoking, fluff ending. Rating: Mature. I wanted to go for Triple H's "365 Fresh" music video feel but I ended up with this instead. Thank you to the awesome @phoebedelia for the beta work!

Despite being three storeys up, the room is dark and dingy. Only one light bulb functions, but it flickers off and on every few minutes. The neon signs across the street are more reliable and constant sources of light. Harry sits at the desk by the window, wearing nothing but a pair of low-riding joggers, and leans back against the chair as he draws on a lit cigar.

The sound of running water stops, followed by the creak of a door opening. Draco Malfoy steps out in pants and a bathrobe, fresh from a shower.

He eyes the cigar in Harry’s hand with contempt. “You know I don’t like smoke.”

As if right on cue, a puff of white smoke wafts from Harry’s mouth and out the window.

“This doesn’t smell like smoke,” Harry assures, patting his thigh. “Come here.”

Malfoy scoffs and, after a moment of contemplation, walks over to Harry. When he climbs onto Harry’s lap, removing his bathrobe as he does, Harry’s heart skips a beat or two. Malfoy is beautiful like this: all long legs, acres of pale skin, silky platinum-blond hair and thin pink lips.

Malfoy reaches for the cigar, but Harry pulls it away and jerks his own head forward instead, smirking and earning himself an eye-roll for his cheeky tactic. After removing Harry’s glasses, Malfoy holds his face and practically slams their lips together.

It takes just a second; Harry notes the exact moment Malfoy tastes it, when the blond moans almost in surprise and proceeds to suck on Harry’s bottom lip, on his tongue and pries Harry’s mouth open wider. Harry feels like he is being eaten alive, the way Malfoy swipes his mouth with his tongue, the way Malfoy grips his head, the way Malfoy’s arse slides against his thigh.

Too soon, Malfoy pulls back, grey eyes curious and dark as he licks his lips, probably unaware of the effect that small action had on Harry. “It tastes like fresh apples and vanilla. What is that?” He demands, referring to the cigar but staring into Harry’s eyes. “Does it contain Amortentia?”

“No.” Harry wandlessly sends the cigar to an ashtray and casts Stasis on it. “I picked this flavour.”

“You chose a flavour I like.” Malfoy seems flattered. “Is this another one of those products new companies ask you to try out and give ‘honest reviews’?”

Harry laughs. Now with both hands free, he skates his palms down Malfoy’s sides and up his back, pleased when Malfoy lets him. “Yeah. Do you like it?”

Malfoy ignores the question. “Is that why you brought me to this place? Because the hotels we always go to don't allow smoking?”

“Thought you’d like a change of scenery,” Harry jokes, earning himself a playful smack on the shoulder. “Seriously, the reporters have gotten wind of our usual rendezvous spots. We need to find other places.” The trouble Harry went through to cast privacy charms on the entire building and make sure they are robust and good enough deserves its own chapter in an Advanced Charms textbook.

“The pains of being a celebrity.” Malfoy sighs dramatically. “I thought by now the tabloids would find newer, fresher stories to chase instead of your sex life.”

“Our sex lives,” Harry amends. “I only do this with you.”

He expects a witty reply, a biting remark or even maybe another smack, but Malfoy smiles. It’s one of those rare ones that reaches his eyes and makes his face bloom with joy and always causes Harry to forget to breathe.

As quickly as it appears, the smile vanishes from Harry’s sight when Malfoy turns away, pushes against Harry’s chest and stands up. Harry leans forwards in his seat, chasing his body heat, and almost falls clumsily to the floor but Malfoy catches his arm just in time and pulls him towards the bed.

Harry sees the smile again when he’s deep inside Malfoy, when fingernails are dragging down his back and long legs are around his hips and those thin pink lips are murmuring Harry’s name like a prayer. He feels undone, utterly enamoured and hopelessly in love. The only thing better than seeing his smile is kissing him, so Harry leans in and does just that. Malfoy kisses him back with new levels of passion, hunger and boldness; it brings Harry even closer to the edge.

“I know you’re doing this to protect me,” Malfoy says later when they are both recovering from their highs, his back against Harry's chest. “I think… I don’t care anymore. I’m more worried about you, though.”

Harry kisses Malfoy’s shoulder. “What are you worried about?”

Malfoy lifts his forearm, where the red-pink outline of the Dark Mark still mars his fair skin. “The Saviour sleeping with a Death Eater? That can’t possibly go well with public perception.”

“Have I ever given you the impression that I care what the public thinks about me?”

Malfoy's shoulders rise, hopeful, before they sag again. "And your friends?"

"My friends, the ones who matter, already know." And they are worried about what this arrangement is doing to Harry's feelings.

"That's… that's not what we agreed."

"I wear my heart on my sleeve.” Harry wraps his arms tighter around Malfoy’s waist. “And guess who's in my heart."

Malfoy doesn't respond to that. Harry is about to fall asleep drinking in the scent of Malfoy's hair when finally he hears:

"Tomorrow," Malfoy croaks hesitantly. "Come to my flat tomorrow. I'll make you dinner, and then you can stay over."

Paparazzi catching Harry Potter in front of Draco Malfoy's flat building is the exact kind of scandal they wanted to avoid.

But they don't care anymore.

"Okay," Harry whispers, blissful. "Tomorrow."

#isamijoo #drarry microfic #draco x harry

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erideights · 5 years

Text

Through history to get to you. (1)

Request by @adela-topaz-caelon : Reader's an angel casted out of heaven because, well, she's weird. She's in love with Crowley and, of course Crowley is in love with her. Our poor Aziraphale is just fucking tired of seeing how neither of them realize the feelings of the other.

Part two: here

Pairing: Crowley x Angel!Reader (Good Omens)

Word Count: 3215.

Warnings: none.

A/N: I'm sorry, I didn't wanna make this request in two parts but I was having inspiration problems and... Well. I'll post the second part tomorrow, by the way. I hope you guys like this!

4004 B.C., the day that every christian remembers as the moment when everything went wrong,— when God expelled humanity from paradise and condemned them to an unhappy existence for the rest of their days because Eve bit the forbidden apple and escaped with Adam from the Garden of Eden; yeah, that day—, an angel and a demon were chatting for the first time in their lives, both standing on the top of the east gate wall of that cage of life that the first two humans in history left behind.

They were not friends, oh no, quite the opposite, they were hereditary enemies, but even so, they shared their existential concerns in a calm, friendly tone, typical of those who have known each other for a lifetime.

But they hadn’t know each other 10 minutes ago.

Meanwhile, another of the so many of the angels of Heaven, one expelled from it by her disturbing peculiarities but not bad enough —or so God considered it— to make her fall to Hell, observed from the north gate how his winged companion gave refuge to the vile demon of the first rain fallen on earth, and before she could realize it, she smiled.

Her corners rose in a sweet and tender expression before even being able to stop to think what it meant something like that, holy rain falling on her face, her clothes and her own wings, soaking every inch of her being until there was not a single dry hair.

Y/N was, indeed, peculiar, her way of seeing the world was completely out of tune with the rest of the cold, calculating, maniac and, in a summary, good soldiers of God who didn’t question absolutely anything that is ordered.

She must have fallen with the others, many thought, but she didn’t.

Instead, and because of the obvious discomfort that the playful angel caused in others, God simply and subtly banished her from Heaven, assuring her that her mission on Earth, guarding the North Gate of the Garden of Eden, was much more important than anything else she could do up there.

And that was the last thing God ever told her.

But she couldn’t care less, in fact, she was happy with her fate; she knew that wasn’t her place, anyway. She always knew.

''Hey, Aziraphale.'' Y/N greeted with a melodious tinkle in her voice, appearing out of nowhere and successfully scaring her co-worker. A sweet laugh then echoed in the girl's throat, whose wings swayed with the gentle breeze that ran up there.

''Y-Y/N, please,'' the blond platinum angel begged, right hand positioned over his left lung. ''You need to stop doing that to me because one day my heart won’t be able to take it anymore and the heart attack will send me right back to Heaven. Do you have any idea how much paperwork would be done? Uncountable.''

During his reprimand, the girl watched her colleague with a devilish smirk in her lips, enjoying every word of the dramatic attacks suffered by the former bearer of the flaming sword. But her eyes, inevitably and within a few seconds, went to a specific point on the ground, back to the garden, not too far from the apple tree and there they remained much longer than she would have thought, feeling how her attention was slowly fading away and the voice of the angel deafened with each second of the clock.

As expected, Aziraphale noticed this, but before he could ask out loud, Y/N beated him to it: ‘’Who was him?’’

Him? Was she talking about...?

‘’Crawly’’ he answered, knowing that lying to his extroverted companion was totally useless; she wouldn’t stop until she got the answers she wanted. Anyway, in his voice could be felt a bit of anxiety for that same matter. ‘’A demon.’’

''Oh, well'' her answer was immediate and without thinking, very typical when talking with Y/N. ''He's hot.''

41 AD, soft music enveloped a crowded tavern in some corner of the large and great Rome, warm weather, pleasant atmosphere and its people dressed in sleeveless tunics in pale ochre, white, or cinnamon tones.

Or at least most of them.

Then there she was, sitting on a low wooden bench next to a table not much taller than it, its surface occupied by a distant predecessor of the chess whose pieces consisted of stones and board on a sheet of brown leather.

She wore the typical and loose roman dress, barely fitted in her chest and waist by two thin bands that held the soft textile against her body, but it was in a eye-catching green color, making her stand out —inevitably— from the others.

In addition, her long hair was braided into a hairstyle that resembled one of the many sculptures that capture beautiful goddesses or nymphs of the mythology they so venerated, making her impossible to avoid in the eyes of the others; she was beautiful.

Perhaps the attention of many others was placed on her, a star that seemed to shine with its own light, but she didn’t notice it, her big eyes watching carefully the funny expressions Aziraphale adopted in his face while he decided what his next move would be, and it wasn’t until her friend's attention was scattered, stolen elsewhere —some point behind her— that for the first time, the girl turned around to see.

Sitting on a stool, he was leaning slightly on the bar that separated the woman who attended the inn and the rest of the clients, his voice loud and clear, asking for anything that could be drunk. His body was covered by the typical clothing for men in that time, a tunic that reached to the ground and a horizontal piece held by a golden pin on his left shoulder, but like her, the black color he wore made him stand out from any of the others in the room.

Y/N found herself holding her breath; It was him.

She couldn’t believe she was seeing him again, not after 4,000 years since that day in the garden.

Aziraphale, who since his escape from Eden had spent a considerable amount of time with her, had dropped in some occasions, when both were reunited again after some of the many adventures that the woman liked to live on her own, that he met by chance the —for her— attractive demon, and in each and every one of these times, without missing, Y/N sighed abstracted, assuring her friend that she envied him so much.

It was stupid! A nonsense, feeling her heart beating faster inside her chest when she hadn’t even spoken to him once, when she hadn’t seen the color of his eyes or feel his voice reaching her ears, but the vague memory of the fallen angel on the wall of the garden knocked at her door some nights, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like.

But that was how she was, an angel repudiated by her insatiable curiosity and her uncontrollable range of emotions that, for nothing in the world, she tried to repress or hide from anyone.

So, as expected, Aziraphale, with a small smile on his lips and feeling soft by her friend's attitude —although he didn’t understand it and, at times, even scared him because, for God's sake, he was a demon!— he realized instantly what was happening. "Do you want to come with me to say hello?" He asked in that tone of voice that he used to use when he was with her, full of love and understanding, of empathy and affection for an angel like her. ''I could, I don’t know, introduce you to him'' Aziraphale suggested right away, believing that such an idea would excite her to no end.

'’What?'' Y/N's head spinned so fast it was hard to believe she hadn’t hurt her neck in the process, and even though there was no blush on her cheeks, her expression, her eyes, left to see how nervous a scenario like that made her be. ''No no no no. What would I say? I can’t do it.'’

One could believe a celestial being like her, given her history and extrovert personality, able to get away with any situation and talk to anyone —whether or not she previously meet them—, would never feel embarrassed no matter what. The fact of her being nervous was, simply, unthinkable, but that same day, Aziraphale learned that, in matters of the heart, Y/N felt much more than she was physically and mentally able to endure.

Who knew the reason?

The only thing he totally understood was that the relationship between his friend and that very human emotion called love was so pure, so convoluted in its own way and so latent within her, that for the first time in 4000 years— and with absolute certainty, it wouldn’t be the last— he saw her hysterical, alarmed and a totally loss for words.

Little did she know that, the moment she finally introduced herself to Crawly —Crowley, as he corrected with that deep and velvety voice of his— and didn’t know after what façade hiding those skin-deep nerves that pushed her to play with her own hands and smiling like an absolute idiot throughout the meeting, the demon felt his heart skipped a beat, falling for her long before he could stop it.

Of course, the only one who noticed this was Aziraphale, who from the outside could see with absolute clarity how an angel and a demon smiled at each other, chatted at ease —after 10 minutes in which Y/N didn’t know what to say and Crowley practically had to tear the words out of her mouth— and in their eyes, a strange feeling that they would be shaping during their many encounters over almost 2,000 years for them was reflected, beginning this way an endless torture for Aziraphale.

Nowadays...

‘’Aziraphale.’’ A beautiful voice pleaded, although it sounded more like a warning to the angel who, without stopping, reminded her each and every one of her encounters with the love of her life as if he was the author of a painful love story whose end was still to write.

He was killing her patience.

‘’Aziraphale…’’ She tried again, this time a little louder and lengthening the last vowel of his name, emitting a heavy nasal sigh as her whole body rocked to the rhythm of that same breath.

She was going to explode.

‘’Aziraphale!’’ She exclaimed after a few seconds, seeing that the rest of her attempts were completely useless and that, if she didn’t scream, she would never be able to shut her friend up, who then watched her with eyes wide open and an expression between confused and offended. ''I get it! I fucking get it!'' She breathed, exasperated with the situation almost as much as the angel in front of her. ''But I won’t do it. You know I can’t.''

The blonde snorted, frowned and pressed his lips in a thin line that, in silence, intended to reprimand his friend for her behavior.

And strangely, even though Y/N was used to that mixture of anger and disappointment, he got it.

''Oh c’mon, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m physically incapable. Do you remember that human I was interested in in 1487, Florence?"

‘’You’re talking about Leonardo da Vinci, aren't you?’’

‘’Yeah, him!’’ Oh, everyone remembered those years, when Y/N fell in love with the young, eccentric, faddy and complicated artist and couldn’t do more than talk about him.

At all hours.

All over the place.

Oh, the girl was head over heels for him.

''You know I tried. Hundreds of times. But each and every time I felt a knot in my stomach and my brain stopped working," she apologized, lowering her gaze until she lost it somewhere on the ground, far from the eyes of the angel that only judged her in the distance and in silence. ''Also, it wouldn’t have worked. I'm sure he didn’t like me that way.’'

And there are theories that would refute the young woman's suspicions, such as the rumor that Leonardo da Vinci was homosexual when, all those who knew him, knew for sure he didn’t dislike anything, and enjoyed both female and male company at all hours.

Leonardo's problem, if Aziraphale didn’t remember badly —and he didn’t usually do— was that he was only truly committed to his art, and the moment when perhaps he considered committing himself to someone else —one of his many muses— and shared this thought one night with one of his questionable friends... this one definitely convinced him not to do it.

Aziraphale nipped nervously at his lower lip; he knew the one who convinced the young artist not to take the step with his friend was no one else than Crowley. He could still hear the music of the florentine tavern that night, the voices shouting one above the other and the demon doing what he knew best, manipulating others to dance to his song, assuring Leonardo that love wasn’t gonna do more than hinder his art career.

Jealous selfish bastard, he wanted her for him.

''W-Well, but that was eons ago, my dear. I thought you’d overcome a long time ago from the story with Leonardo.''

''Yeah, I got over it, of course, don’t get me wrong, that's not what I'm saying, '' quickly corrected the girl, raising her eyes again to meet her friend's, catching the guilty look in that ones but deciding to leave it aside and not to ask about it. ''All I’m saying is if I couldn’t do it with him and he was a human like any other who would die after no more than 80 years... How could I do it with Crowley? Just to think about it terrifies me.''

But recapping, he knew his friend had had a partner on more than one occasion. Lasting more or less time, the girl had her fun throughout history; so in summary, her problem was only and exclusively confessing, taking the first step.

It hurted, even physically, because he was literally fed up with watching Crowley and Y/N constantly flirting with each other but at the moment of truth, they both thought it was just a game, a joke, part of their relationship and their personalities, nothing more.

How could they be so fucking blind!?

''I know, I indeed know, the only thing I say is that... the situation has already become untenable. What am I saying? It has been almost 2000 years. But before, Crowley and you only saw each other on rare occasions, once every 30 or 50 years with luck. Now? Almost every day." He reasoned, sighing deeply and calmly and leaning his body a little forward to be a little closer to his friend. '’Besides, you know he’s gonna notice that sooner or later.'' And without thinking twice, the angel brushed the exposed skin behind his own right ear, tearing from the girl's throat an audible gasp, almost like a silent scream.

‘’Shut up!’’ Y/N's eyes quickly scanned the room, panicking, making sure the aforementioned demon wasn’t sneaking around and, instinctively, covering the same ear Aziraphale had touched on himself. ‘’I swear to God If you say anything about it I’ll—’’

‘’I never told him and I promised not to do it in death or life. Your secret is safe with me.'' He assured, amused by the girl's reaction. "But being honest, it's a miracle you managed to hide it for almost 30 years. Someday he’s gonna see it, Y/N, and I can only hope that by then, you have confessed what you feel because otherwise it would be, how to say it? Wild.’’

To understand the conversation the two angels kept in the back room of this small bookshop in London, we must move to the late 80's, when during one of her worst drunkenness, Y/N couldn’t think of anything better than tattooing herself a snake identical to the one Crowley wore on his sideburn, but behind her right ear.

When Aziraphale heard about this the next day, he was absolutely scandalized, asking why. The answer he got? '' Because I know he hates it because it reminds him of Hell but I like it because it's part of who he is and I wanted him to be loved.'' But of course —sober— she knew it was definitely a bad idea and she couldn’t show it to him under no circumstance.

For some odd reason, she didn’t want to miracle it away either, so her strategy during those 30 years was to leave her hair loose and relatively long so he couldn’t see it.

'’Listen, Aziraphale,'' the girl started, turning the curl over again, having had this conversation with her friend countless times throughout her life. And it’s not that she didn’t appreciate his tireless attempts to see her happy and from the hand of the demon that had stolen her heart, it’s that she didn’t believe it was even possible. ''I appreciate what you're trying to do, really, and you know you're my best friend and I'd follow you to the end of the world again, if necessary, but I can’t look Crowley in the eye and tell him I've been in love with him long before the wheel was invented.'' It felt like she was apologizing to him, but anyone would know that the real apology was directed to her heart for not following her feelings and doing what they dictated. ''What I can promise you,'' she rose from her seat after a small pat on her own legs. ''is that I’ll try not to talk to you about this ever again so as not burn your patience so much.'' and leaving a quick kiss on the angel's cheek, Y/N waved goodbye and started walking towards the shop door.

''Thanks for the coffee!''

‘’She’s gonna kill me, isn’t she?’’ Aziraphale's voice rose fearfully, concerned once the bell on the door of the bookshop signaled that his friend had left and slow steps were noticed right behind him, stopping by his side.

‘’Yeah, probably.’’ But the face of the demon showed no concern for the angel, too happy to do anything but bite his bottom lip in order to hide the huge smile that threatened to spread through his face.

He still couldn’t believe all that he’d heard, hidden for at least a couple hours behind one of the huge and crowded shelves of the place.

‘’Well, you better take advantage of the situation so that all the paperwork I’ll have to do if that happens would be worth it, Crowley.’’

#good omens #good omens prime #good omens one shot #good omens one shots #good omens Crowley #Crowley #Crowley x Reader #crowley x angel!reader #crowley x fem!reader #good omens crowley x reader

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lovemecharlie · 5 years

Text

@marvelpotterlove

Part 2

Charlie loved surprises so she didn't mind Erik withholding their destination. He drove to the jet and her eyes widened, not expecting a flight to be involved. Still she didn't ask again where they were headed. It was an hour flight and when the plane landed, Charlie got her answer. They were in good ol' Oakland. "WELCOME BACK TO MY FUCKIN HOME," Erik yelled cheerfully to the sky lifting her up again. "GLAD TO BE HERE," she yelled as he toted her to the matte black lambo that sat in wait.. although she was not quite sure why they were yelling.

The music he blasted made her laugh because she could barely understand anything the rapper was saying. "Y'all's language is so bouncy like there's a lot of tongue action. Do you ever bite that big clam's foot slapping around in that juicemouth just trying to talk?" He chuckled before he could stop it.

"Your country ass.. Be careful, Charlie... I know you like to be control, but that shit can shift swiftly," he warned playfully, looking over at her in the passenger seat.

"Tongue. twisting. negro," Charlie stared stunned. "See, your voice is bouncing more already. Do you hear it," she chuckled stroking his Adam's apple quickly. His chest vibrated and the corner of his lips lifted as he shook his head in faux irritation, brushing her hand off of him. "Gone somewhere! You irritating as hell," he smiled.

"Fine. Be like that, Bubbalicious. I'll sit here in silence and look at the scenery." And that's what she did, she looked out the window until the car slowed. He parked in front of a small jewelry shop and the area was black, negros everywhere. The shopowner when the they entered was black and young. He was also kinda cute, but that was neither here nor there.

"Uh uh. Eyes to yourself if you don't wanna get snatched up in this store, little girl," Erik teased, brows high. Charlie simply smacked his arm.

"Boy hush, overzealous manboar." He gaped and she grinned. "Really handsome and sexual beast of an overzealous manboar," she ammended.

"Wack," he whispered turning to the man who'd just returned from a back room. "Tiny," he greeted hugging the man from across the counter.

"My nigga Killmonger," Tiny grinned, his mouth full of yellow-gold teeth. His hair hung in his face in twists and he had a single gold chain. "This your new lady mane? She fine bro. She fine, but where you find all these women bruh? I just saw you with a badass Puerto Rican. Let another nigga have his blessing out here, damn."

"With a who," Charlie spoke up and Tiny grinned.

"I'm fuckin witchu. She a jealous one. She ready to pop imaginary bitches already."

"You gone respect my wife, nigga," Erik chuckled. "How that empty bed going," he grinned. Charlie just watched the exchange.

"Maaaan...," Tiny's face fell, "That ain't even funny, like, I'm just fuckin with you damn." Tiny looked hurt.

Erik chuckled, "Look man, I need my wife right here to get the works. She gotta represent for a nigga one time, I'm tryna have her looking like me."

"Y'all already look alike," Tiny said and Charlie wasn't sure if he was throwing shots or not.

"You must think my man fine too then," she smiled. He kissed his teeth.

"I mean the dimples, bruh," he finally spoke to her. "Both y'all got dimples."

"You eyeing my girl nigga," Erik teased and Charlie stared at Tiny, her head cocked to the side. "You eyeing my nigga, nigga?" Tiny sighed, distressed, and both Erik and Charlie laughed.

"Mane.. Come to the back. Let me lock this door real quick."

---

Tiny kept a hoard of unique and custom golden and bejeweled items in the back just for Erik to choose from. Erik held various gold chains up to Charlie's neck, switching back and forth between a chunky cuban link littered in glittering diamonds and a braided rope chain littered in glittering diamonds before buying two of each and putting a set around Charlie's neck and the other around his own. He strapped a freshly cleaned white faced golden diamond Rolex to her wrist and its twin to his own. He still wore the gold ring she'd gifted him for Christmas. It was identical to hers and he hardly ever took his off since he loved gold.

"Top or bottoms," Tiny asked filling what looked like a plastic container of putty.

"What you want, Cha? Sky's the limit." Erik draped an arm over her shoulders while she thought it over, his gold twinkling.

"Hm. I want platinum fangs like Daka. Then, I want gold fangs like Daka, but I want those up top. I also want a full bottom grill that's diamonds set in gold and I want something in pink and silver..." Erik's eyes were wide in shock, but he was loving Charlie's greed because she never asked for anything. She hardly ever allowed him to spoil her like he wanted. This was a rare occasion. The plastic tray went into Charlie's mouth and her top teeth sunk into the putty.

"Now that you can't talk or move your teeth for the next few minutes," Erik moved to whisper in her ear, "I wanna bust that sweet pussy open when we leave." Charlie shook her head, no. "I'm a take your lack of response as a yes," he teased as she smacked his arm.

The top mold was done and after a second putty tray, the bottom mold was done too. Tiny offered Erik a deal when he payed, but Erik rejected it opting to pay full price. It would take ten days to get the completed grillz.

"We coming back in ten days to make sure they're a comfortable fit and all that," Erik said on their way out already pushing up on Charlie. She bumped him away with her hip and he lifted her again dumping her on her back in the backseat.

"CHILLL," she snickered as he pulled her legs high around his waist tugging at the band of her red pants and black boyshorts. He yanked them to her knees before removing them completely.

"Nahhh, I need to get in this before you snap out of whatever spell you been under. If I wait, you might revert back into she who shall not be named!" He meant her other self. Her more dominant side.

"King Jade?"

"Shh!!!!" He dove over her to clamp a hand over her mouth loosely. "Don't wake her bossy ass up," he whispered-shouted. She snickered as he kissed down her neck and slid into her slowly. She moaned at the invasion gripping his ass to pull him closer and deeper like a masochist. He was playing. "Erik.. Don't tease me, fuck me." She trapped him against her with her legs. "Pump.. harder," she commanded squeezing him. She didn't have to ask twice, she felt his girth stretching her. He was deep in her guts, stroking straight walls as he rocked inside of her.

"How's this, huh?" He grinned showing his fangs and Charlie couldn't speak... Then he bit her on the neck and she grunted. "Words. Is this good?.. Huh?" Charlie's mouth hung open. She allowed herself to be pushed toward the edge until she melted. "More," she gasped quietly and he had the same sentiment because he didn't stop. Her back arching, she jerked as she came again, her leg shaking. "Fuck," she stammered. He held her by the hips and began slamming into her causing her to grab the seat beneath her, the headrest, and anything else he could grab. "Damn you," she yelled.

"Damn this pussy," he panted. "Scream my name... Scream my fuckin name, Charlie." She bit her knuckle determined to take it, low grunts escaping. He swept a light and fast hand back and forth across her clit drawing more sound. It was a cheat code he'd long figured out to trigger her orgasm and he liked to use it as a trump card. She yelled instantly, locking up and tensing as he continued to thrust through it, holding onto her tightly. His fingers dug into her hips. "Oh shit," he cussed having almost cum from her muscles squeezing. It snuck up on him and he tried to pull away, but when Charlie tensed again, he said fuck it and came with her. She could feel the heated liquid explode inside of her and slide out, down her crack and to the seats, leaking under her. They'd have to clean it up before they pulled off.

10 Days Later

Charlie stood in the jewelry store dressed in all white from head to toe and Erik wore the same. They both wore their chains, white-faced watches, and rings. Charlie tried on each pair of her brand new grillz and admired them in the mirror, but the ones she decided to wear out were the golden top fangs. He had his bottom golds in too. "Damnnn," he held her chin in his hands as she grinned widely. He was in love with her new look. "I might not let you take these out. You look badass."

"You want me to suck your diddly with these grillz and make you nut again? Count how many nuts you can get before you get too sensitive? I might not stop." He stuck her tongue out teasingly.

"So, are y'all set or..." Tiny looked like he was uncomfortable and done.

"BYE, TINY," Charlie chuckled.

The End

@poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @hennessystevens-udaku @itsangeludaku @alyshastevens-udaku @itskimorafireudaku @allhailnjadaka @bidibidibombaclaat @blackpinup22 @destinio1 @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @leahnicole1219 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark

#fics #the kompound #charlie #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger smut #erik stevens

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inhvppy · 5 years

Text

A milestone in a relationship is finally saying “I love you.” The story of Bowen and I’s is actually pretty fucked up. At the time it seemed poetic and almost like it was ripped out of a movie scene. I think we had just started dating each other, too.

To set the scene a little bit, Madison and I were in my mother’s tiny town home. I’m sitting in a chair facing the mirror of the downstairs bathroom with a towel wrapped around my shoulders. Our friend at the time, Katie. was parked on the green love seat scrolling through twitter or tindr, I’m sure. She always had her head in the clouds about some girl she was talking to. She a hopeless lover, but she’s not a huge piece of the story.

Madison and I were aggressively sipping our fourlokos while she painted my hair with a bucket of bleach. We’d stop to dance for the occasional song that would pop up on her apple phone. I kept mine face up on the counter, waiting for my phone to light up from Bowen’s response. I hadn’t seen him that day and was worried since I hadn’t heard from him in a few hours.

The time came to rinse and tone my hair. We were feeling pretty buzzed from the cheap ass alchohol when my phone went off. I remember my head being tilted back in the sink with Madison’s hands weaving their way through my hay colored locks. Seriously, my hair looked like straw for a good four months after that drunk attempt to be platinum blonde.

I ran to the phone, eager to hear his voice. But it was shaky. “I need you to pick me up. Right now. I’m at my mom’s house and I need to get out of here.”

I hesitated at the thought of picking him up, mostly because I had been drinking and my hair was soaked in toner. “Can I call you a lyft or can Madi come get you? I’m kind of-”

“Sarah. I need you to come get me.” His voice cracked as he cut me off. This was the first time he had reached out to me as someone he needed. I couldn’t disappoint him. You can assume what I did next.

My car was filled with a drunk Madison and Katy when Bowen slammed my car door shut behind him. I turned to look at him to offer some sympathy, but he wouldn’t look away from his backseat window. I had no idea what was wrong, but knew he’d open up to me once he relaxed. His tension ran through me the whole drive home. I kept an eye on him through my driver’s window to see if he’d look up at me. His jaw was clenched shut and his eyes were glued to the passing rain outside his window.

Back at the house, Madison finishes rinsing my hair and we continue to drink our cheap booze. Bowen doesn’t move from the couch, until we start to get rowdy. He runs upstairs and shuts the bathroom door behind him. I’ll give him some time to calm down, I thought to myself.

10 minutes passed.. Then 20.. I was only getting drunker and my worry grew. It was finally when I heard the shower turn on that I flew upstairs. Showers had always been a safe space for us. With some loud music and his arms around me, I felt untouchable. I’d hoped my presence would offer some comfort.

I swing the bathroom door open and quietly shut it behind me. I see my boyfriend siting in the bath of the shower, naked and sobbing. My drunk heart broke at the sight of this. I still had no clue what had been wrong, but didn’t think about it. I just wanted him calm and happy.

“Bowen.. are you okay?” I open the shower door and look down at him.

“Leave me alone, you don’t want to be here. I’m a mess and just need to be alone.” He turns his back to me and buries his head in his arms.

I sit down beside him outside of the shower and place a hand on my shoulder.”What happened? At least talk to me or something. I’m so worried.” I remember trying not to slur my words.

He doesn’t move, “I told my mom everything. She knows everything I’ve done and what I want to do.” Bowen had been in some bad trouble a few months ago, by bad I mean he should be in prison for life. The thought of his mother knowing what had happened must have terrified her. Even though their relationship was rocky, he still thought the world of his mother and ran to her whenever things got really bad.

I hugged him from inside the shower. He fought me and tried nudging me out, but I ended up sitting under the hot shower head with him. “You can never love me like I’ve started to love you. You hate me, I can see it.” He finally looked up to talk to me and his words stung.

I was holding Bowen when told him I loved him. I knew he needed to hear it, but I didn’t mean it. I don’t think he did either. He tried denying my feelings for him and pushing me away. This became a routine in our future fights. Bowen wanted me to chase after him and hold him tight. He got off on the thought of me running to fix whatever was making us upset.

We sat in that hot bathroom for a while as he sobbed into my arms. Of course we ended up fucking too. Post fight fucks were our specialty, sadly.

It wasn’t until later I found out what was really hurting him. His ex girlfriend, that I had no idea he was still talking to, reached out to his mother about Bowen doing heroine. She had cut him off after that and that broke him. There I was, thinking my boyfriend was hurt over a fight with his mom. Nope. I was siting there, drunk and soaked in my clothes, holding him as he sobbed over his ex girlfriend cutting him off.

You can imagine the fight we had once I had finally found this out.

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