#whining over! I know in the grand scheme of things it's small but Man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lustbile · 3 years ago

Note

wat about a drabble inspired by that f2l hyuck hc u posted about a while back😁

Hmmmm okay so the only thing about that is I want to maybe (definitely) make a fic out of that so dunno if i should/could do a blurb about it as well. But I can do a f2l thing with Hyuck that’s a little different just because its haechan :] and I always want to do that

Warning: oral (reader receiving) and video game references because im dumb also this is 3.6k words. I am so sorry.

——

“What about that guy from my calculus class?” you mutter, picking at your nails as you lean back against the cheap wood that made the headboard of Haechan’s bed.

You had been sitting in silence with Haechan for a while now, the conversation about you being perpetually alone forever dying off naturally once the game he put on had finally finished loading. But even though his eyes were glued to his screen, your brain still moved almost as quickly as his fingers, and you were left to filter through every eligible man you’ve ever met as Haechan grunted at his screen.

“Hrrmm?” Haechan lets out a sound of confusion, losing the original plot of the reason you came to pout in his dorm in the first place before it clicks again in his brain, “oh uh… to fuck or to date?”

“To fuck,” you scoff as if it’s obvious, standing and moving to sit at the end of his bed to be closer to his desk, “I don’t think that guy could last more than five minutes on a genuine date even if it I paid him.”

“You’re the last person that would have to pay someone to date them,” he unknowingly mumbles as he kills another player, an anguished scream coming through his headphones loud enough for you to hear.

“Well I’m not getting any dates for free,” you huff, throwing your arms against the bed, trying to distract yourself from the way his words make your chest warm, even though you can tell from his slack jaw and glassy eyes that he didn’t even know he said the words himself.

“What do you need a date for so bad anyways?” he finally clocks back into the conversation enough to ask in slight annoyance, “like being single is going to kill you or something?”

“I need a distraction,” you explain with your hands moving rapidly in front of you, hoping he’d take it as that without needing more explanation.

“Distraction from what?”

You let out a small whine, choosing to stare petulantly at the side of his head with a pout instead of giving him an answer. You don’t want to say outright that you need a distraction from whatever weird crush you’ve started to develop on him specifically, actually you’d probably rather swallow his entire desktop than admit that, but you also would love for him to get some kind of hint. Whether that was a hint about how you feel or the fact that you don’t want to talk about it, you’re not sure. But you'd like him to get the hint quickly.

“Haechan you’re so dumb,” you whine, letting yourself fall back onto the stiff mattress below you before dramatically kicking your feet. You hope your tone is drawn out enough that he doesn’t take it as a serious threat, but deep down you’re starting to think he really is dumb to not notice the way you’ve started drooling a bit when he changes in front of you or adjusts himself like you’re not there.

That’s a memory that makes you cringe a bit. Yes, him changing in front of you makes some sense, the sight of his bare chest and long legs making you squirm as you try to be discreet when peeking over the top of your phone. But the times when your thighs squirm at the sight of him adjusting himself with his hand in his pocket, or just just actually grabbing his dick through his pants when he’s feeling shameless, those are the times you think you might just actually be a weirdo.

But weirdo or not, Haechan seems to be oblivious, so it’s not like it matters in the grand scheme of things.

Though speaking of obliviousness, Haechan thinks he might explode from the way you don’t notice his eyes. The way they dart over at you now, tense with his eyelids drooping with slight irritation. It’s a weird combination of feelings that builds in his chest, the heat from the way your shorts ride up your thighs and the annoyance that swirls in his belly from you suggesting the need for a date with someone that isn’t him.

“Love you too,” he replies sarcastically, the words choking him more than he’d like to admit. He tries to ignore the way his online friends coo at him as if the words were meant for them, as he keeps you in his peripherals as you squirm around on his bed, hoping to see you react to his words in some kind of devine way.

He turns the microphone away from his mouth before he speaks again, assuming the way your body twitches at his words was just a natural response to his sarcasm, “I don’t mean this as degrading as its going to sound,” he starts, his throat closing up at the words that swirl in his mind and his wish to say them in a way that is degrading and hot and just incredibly vulgar, “but are you really that desperate to be fucked?”

“Yes I am!” You shout, sitting up again and leaning forward enough to slap your hand on his desk, “I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve had sex, and it’s driving me up the wall.”

He’s never seen you like this. Of course he knows you get horny. You’ve been vocal about it more than once, unfortunately for him and his dick, but never to the extent that you’re borderline pitching a fit. Which, he doesn’t know that the reason you seem to be more unhinged than usual is actually purely because of him, but if he did know that would only add to his confusion.

“I gotta go,” he mumbles into the microphone when he quickly pulls it back down, the match ending right after your outburst. He has to ignore the whining complaints of the guys on the other end of the speaker, because he decides that wherever this conversation goes, it’s going to require his full attention.

“Is it really that bad?” He asks with an oddly sincere tone as he moves his headphones off his head, “you’re not usually the type to get this worked up about sex of all things.”

If it wasn’t for the soft look he gives you, like you’re some type of feral animal he’s trying to coax towards him, you probably would have diverted to more dramatics. But instead your chest just tightens because honestly, yes it is that bad. And he’s the one that caused it.

Your feelings for him weren’t purely sexual, that would be too easy. You genuinely think you’re falling hopelessly for your best friend, but right now those feelings are all being concentrated purely at the space between your thighs, and you worry if you go any longer without something, you’ll end up jumping the boy that stares at you in amused concern.

“Kind of,” you finally calm, leaning away slightly and staring down at your lap, “I just… I don’t know.”

“It can’t be that bad that you’re genuinely considering that dude from your calc class,” he laughs, trying to lighten the conversation like you’re upset about something real and not just from lack of dick, “not to be rude, but he isn’t really that cute.”

“You’re right, he’s not,” you sigh, feeling bad for talking about this random guy this way, “it’s just something stupid I guess.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he says softly, turning and moving his gaming chair until he knees bump into yours as they drape over the end of his bed, “I’m your best friend man, if there’s something you need to get off your chest, then I’m all yours.”

“I can’t Haechan,” your voice cracking slightly as you dodge the way he tries to lean down enough to catch your eye, “it’s stupid and weird and I don’t want it to bother you.”

He watches the way your hand cuts through the air sharply with every syllable, feeling bad for being so endeared by your motions even if you do them out of frustration, “I’m stupid and weird,” he says confidently with a grin, “you can’t shake me dude.”

“You’re not stupid,” you sigh, warming up when he laughs at your indirect agreement of him being weird, “I…. Okay maybe you are a little.”

“Why?!” He squawks with another laugh, leaning to grab your knees and shake you, “just because I said it doesn’t mean you can agree.”

“Because!” You laugh with a small pang of pain in your voice as you grab his forearms and shake him back, “there’s no way you’re this oblivious.”

You can feel it. The truth becoming too big for your chest to hold. You spent so much energy on being a menace to society, that you feel tired now, and even if it means your heart gets broken you can’t just keep lying in his bed and wallowing in your pity. It’s starting to feel just a degree too pathetic.

“I don’t think it’s me being oblivious as much as it’s you being weird and vague,” he defends himself, choosing not to call you out for being the most oblivious person he’s met. This isn’t a pissing contest he decides, but he thinks if you two started comparing who’s more oblivious, you’d win in a heartbeat just from how you’ve never noticed how tightly wound he was around your finger.

“Haechan, I came to you about this,” you start with your finger pushed into his chest, knowing that being even more vague is probably a dumb move, but you’re doing it regardless, “please don’t make me spell it out for you.”

He feels his mouth go instantly dry the moment you let the words leave your mouth, not wanting to believe what he hopes you’re implying. He thought you were begging the universe to do something, but the idea of you actually begging him to make a move was scrambling his brain.

“You might have to spell it out,” he warns, hesitantly slipping his hands up your thighs. It feels like in that moment though, that he finally arrives on the same plane of existence as you, because for once he notices the way you tense from his touch, “if you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, I don’t want to screw something up.”

It’s interesting seeing Haechan like this, not willing to take the upper hand. He’s usually the first to yell out, the first to claim the spot of being in charge, but when you glance up at him you only see his face plagued with apprehension and even a small streak of fear.

It feels like someone set off a bottle rocket in your chest when you lean forward suddenly, a ratting gasp coming from his full lips when you’re suddenly only inches away from his face. His eyes are so soft you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time, and when you finally get the push in your chest to place your lips on his, it feels like you’re seeing heaven and hell at the exact same second.

If there’s a small version of yourself controlling your mind, like so many silly pieces of media in your life tried to suggest, you’re sure the small version of yourself is spinning in circles in happiness when Haechan reaches to grab your face. His fingers push tightly against the back of your skull, and before you try and pinch yourself to make sure you’re awake, he lets out a pleased groan against your mouth.

You feel like you’re both deer in one another’s headlights when he pulls away. His hands don’t move from the way they hold you, your own lift to wrap tightly around his wrists, and you just stare at one another like it’s the first time you’ve actually seen each other in your entire lives.

“Just to fuck?” Haechan asks weakly with a cringe, his nerves getting the better of him and forcing his words to come out a lot less eloquent than he had ever intended if this moment ever came up.

“It can just be a fuck if you want,” you nod softly, trying to not show the disappointment that flood your chest, but the dejected tone that coats your words hurts Haechan more than you could ever imagine.

“I don’t want that,” he glances down at your lips, moving his thumb to push against your bottom lip as he tries to collect his thoughts, “I mean I do want to fuck, but I um… I’d also love to date.”

“We can date,” you nod, feeling more and more dazed the more he holds you, your body almost melting into a puddle on his sheets when your knees slot together and one of his presses closer to where your shorts bunch up at the apex of your thighs.

“Cool,” he nods back, his own mind seeming to slip as you both keep holding on and nodding dumbly.

There’s staring, and then there’s smiling, and then finally the tension breaks. His lips return to yours in a way that’s a lot more deliberate, a lot more needy and rough, and before you can ask anymore logistical questions, Haechan is moving from his chair to hover over you until you lay flat against the wrinkles sheets of his bed.

“Always imagined how pretty you’d look laid out like this,” he mutters in your ear when he starts to trail his lips along your jaw, “just watching you sprawl out while I play games, the way you get all soft and comfortable. I can’t even begin to tell you the amount of times I just wanted to grab you and destroy you.”

You gasp at the admission and how his hips press into yours as your body relaxes beneath him, “you should have,” you respond, your voice gravelly and weak, “you could have had your way with me whenever you wanted.”

The groan he lets out at your words vibrates through the muscles in the side of your neck, and the way his hips sink down until he grinds into you makes your head tilt back and your nails sink into the sides of his shoulders. He somehow zeros in on all the spots along your throat that makes your body shiver, and when he digs his teeth into the flesh at the bend of your shoulder, you can’t help but cry out.

His hands are rushed in everything he does, wanting to figure everything out and get the answer before anyone else can, and you feel like his ultimate puzzle beneath his fingers.

He shoves your shirt up until it bunches below your armpits, grinning like he’s gotten a cheat code when he sees you didn’t bother with any type of bra before wandering into his room, and you don’t even get a moment to try and pull the fabric off before his mouth latches to one of your nipples while he abuses the other with the tips of his fingers.

“Haechan,” you sigh, a shiver rolling up your spine at the feeling of his moving lips and tongue. Your hand drifts up, brushing along his back and up until your fingers tangle in his hair. And when he nips at your skin, he sets off a chain reaction of your tugging roughly at his roots and him grunting in response.

He grins so big when he pulls away, his face starts to ache. Getting you below him is a dream come true, and when he blows cool air on your still damp skin, it’s as if he’s testing to make sure you’re real and not just his hyperactive imagination.

“Still desperate to get fucked?” He asks with a laugh, the typical cockiness returning to him now that he’s got you in the palm of his hand.

“Please,” you hum. The clammy skin of your palm tugs on his hair as you smooth your hand up the curve of his skull, and once it lays flat on the top of his head you push gently, encouraging him with big glassy eyes to do something more than just lick at your chest.

He nods in response, letting you move his head until he’s level with your hips. He takes your shorts off slowly, pulling your underwear along with them, and admiring the way they gradually expose your skin in the opposite way of how he usually gets to see flashes of your thighs.

His head falls to push his forehead into your belly when you're fully exposed to his eyes, stopping your thighs from closing him out the way they instinctively flexed. Every second feels surreal to him, and the sight of your body’s response to just him, the amount of wetness that’s built between your thighs from his mouth on your skin, was enough to make him feel like he’s in a dream.

He’s quick to move your thighs over his shoulders when you let out a quiet whimper, feeling perfectly at home at the way your flesh presses against his ears. He loves the way you chew at your bottom lip and the way you stare down at him in nervous anticipation. And he feels like he’s the only man in the world when he leans down to lay a small kiss on your clit and you let out a small shocked hiccup.

“I can’t believe you came in here horny out of your mind, and I almost just let you wallow in it while I sat around playing games like an idiot,” he mutters, scolding himself while he moves his hand until he can slip his thumb against you. The way he just mindlessly stares at you dripping arousal as his digit dips into it and smears it around your clit makes you feel delirious, and the way he speaks like he has all the time in the world makes your fingers tense in his hair.

“You’re letting me wallow in it now,” you remind with a bratty huff, trying to roll your hips closer to his face.

“Poor baby,” he says with a wink, kissing up the side of your thigh softly, and letting you let out a few impatient whines before he moves his thumb and lays his tongue flat against you.

Haechan had imagined tasting you more than his fair share of times. Imagining you seated on his face or spread out below him whether he was alone with his hand wrapped around himself or even when he was sitting mindlessly in a boring lecture. He hadn’t gotten past the guilt of thinking about his best friend like that, but he just couldn’t help the thought wandering in so frequently when it was probably the one thing he’d kill to do.

But he didn’t have to kill, he’s learned. Finally taking the hint was the only thing he needed, and now with his tongue sinking shallowly inside you, he thinks he can stay with his tongue buried in you for the rest of his life.

Haechan licks at you slowly, digging his tongue against your skin harshly and circling the end of his tongue quickly over your clit. His hands press into your stomach when you start to squirm too much for his mouth to control, and once you’re forcibly static against his lashings, he presses in deeper to see how far he can push you into a delirious pleasure.

It doesn’t take much, your body anticipating his touch for so long that it’s only a matter of a few moments before your panting and gasping for breath.

He licks at you like you're a dripping treat, savoring every taste he gets of you and groaning happily when your hips start gently rocking until you’re grinding against his warm tongue. He loves the smell you leave on his sheets and the way your arousal and his saliva mixes and drips onto his bed, and from the way you whine and try to curl into yourself, he knows you love the things he does to your body.

You coming is the best thing his eyes have ever gotten to witness. The way your spine curves and the rough way you tug at his hair until his face is shoved tightly against your body making him work faster. Your mind is so gone with pleasure, that your body works against you, and he’s more than happy to take advantage when your overstimulated mind is too gone to push him away.

The evidence of your orgasm is already coating the lower half of your face when you cry out, finally lifting your legs enough that he has to tug your thighs back down to keep you in place. And his mouth latching around your buzzing clit must be what finally pulls you back to earth, because you sit up as much as you can manage against his hold, with a wild look behind your eyes.

“Hyuck,” you gasp with your voice shot and shredded, pushing gently against his shoulders with as much strength as you can manage from the way your entire body shakes from his unrelenting tongue, “I’m done. I’m done.”

He looks up quickly with a smile, one that looks like your best friend, but is worn by a newly formed demon you’ve never met. He remembers as he trails his eyes over your face, the way you were moaning about how horny and deprived you were before he found himself here, and he remembers the time that both of you wasted dancing around the truth that both of you hid. He remembers the times he only got to imagine this scenario, dreaming about how you tasted and squirmed, and all the remembering just makes him scoff.

“I’m not.”

#Nct smut #haechan smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #ask

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

good for you - t. jost

a/n: one day it dawned at me that tyson jost really had just been hitting different lately, and so i just needed to write some filth about it. i'm thinking of making this a smut based mini series so let me know what you guys think :)

part two

warnings: it's smush time (smut)

I can’t believe you’re leaving me like this.

Mat Barzal was pouting, laying across your bedroom in your apartment whining about how you were heading off to Colorado and leaving him. It wasn’t by choice, you’d gotten into a grad program that was an amazing opportunity, separating you and your childhood best friend for the first time in ages. Mat was your friend by accident, a kid was picking on him and you got mad because only you’re allowed to do that and punched that kid square in the nose. Mat covered for you so you wouldn’t get suspended and you’d been inseparable ever since.

“This place is going to be too quiet without you,” Mat whines, dodging the book you’d thrown in his direction, “And not that I keep you to clean up after me but I do need you to teach me how to use the dishwasher.”

“How about you help me pack then?” You suggest, rolling your eyes at his inability to take care of himself. He’d always been like that, his own mother relieved when you moved in because it eased her worries about Mat burning his place down.

“You should give Tyson a call,” Mat hops up, grabbing a box and some stuff off your shelf, “Sure he’d be able to show you around.”

“Tyson Jost?” You furrow your brows, trying to clarify exactly who Mat was talking about. There wasn’t anything wrong with Tyson, that was the problem. Tyson was like sunshine in the summer and in another life, he’d be your dream man. He was kind and the way he talked about his mother made every one of your girlfriends swoon. Tyson had the kind of drive you respected and he just seemed so steady, “I thought we agreed I’d break him.”

“You agreed with yourself on that one not me,” Mat chuckles, shaking his head at your response. Mat couldn’t think of any one of his friends that he’d let date you besides Tyson. Tyson was an astronomically better person than Mat was, always the kind of kid his parents encouraged him to hang out with, “What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot?”

“I’m not sleeping with Tyson, he’s too innocent,” It wasn’t an excuse, it was the truth. Everything about Tyson screamed that he’d get you off but it wouldn’t be all that exciting. Tyson was a relationship type, and you weren’t and aside from the obvious sexual incompatibility - he was Mat’s friend. Despite his efforts, you always swore that was a line you’d never cross. Besides, as kind and endearing as Tyson was, he was still a hockey player, he just got away with it better than most.

“Just promise me you’ll call him? Especially if something’s wrong,” Mat pleads, a soft expression on his face even if it was just for a second before you had a t-shirt tossed in your direction, “You can’t let him replace me though, I’m number one around here.”

“I cannot wait to live alone,” You tease, laughing when Mat’s middle finger is thrown in your direction. It was bittersweet, leaving the comfort of having Mat around to buy you ice cream when you were sad and to take care of his best friend duties and onto a new adventure.

“You won’t be alone Josty will be there,” Mat jokes, his laugh bouncing off the now barren walls of your bedroom, “I swear I’m done now.”

“You better be.”

“I give it two weeks before you fuck Josty though.”

***

Just swing by her place, please.

Mat was like a mother who just sent their first kid away for college, and he was panicking. So, yes, he was begging Tyson to just drop in on to make sure your move was going as smoothly as you made it sound on the phone. Tyson could have been doing anything else on a Friday night with no game, but he was getting closer and closer to giving in by the second.

Tyson could admit, he wanted to see you, and he was excited when Mat shared the news you were moving to Denver. He looked forward to seeing you in the summer, carefree and light and so far out of his league he’d never even try. You made Tyson fumble his words, and every time he saw you he would think with his dick and he couldn’t focus on anything else. Above all else, Tyson wanted you to know he was a phone call away, a promise he made to Mat that he’d be there if you needed anything that he was going to keep for his own selfish reasons.

So Tyson was off to your apartment, a bottle of wine in one hand and a case of Coors Light in the other. He lifted his hand to knock, taking a deep breath and just thinking to himself, don’t fuck this up.

You knew that familiar tuft of curls in your peephole anywhere, summers spent watching the way Tyson’s curls bounced against his forehead whenever he spoke. This had Mat written all over it, no doubt your best friend put Tyson up to his welcoming committee bit. You turn around, boxes piled everywhere with nothing set up in your place aside from your mattress in the middle of the floor and your tv in your living room. Unpacking had been a bit overwhelming, and you may have lied on the phone to Mat that you were doing just fine. You take one deep breath, holding your head up high and pretending like your place wasn’t a mess.

“Hi,” You smile, leaning against your doorframe and taking in the man in front of you. Did he get bigger? Maybe it’s the hair, it’s longer. No, the scruff. Whatever it was, your feet were glued to the floor because you were stunned by the fact that Tyson Jost had gotten hot.

“Welcome,” Tyson cheeses, holding up the beer and wine in his hands and shrugging his shoulders, “I hope it’s fine I stopped by, Mat called and-”

“Told you to come?” You finished his sentence, Tyson nodding at your question, “Well, I have no furniture because it won’t be here until tomorrow, but you’re more than welcome to come join in my sad empty apartment.”

“I’d love to,” Tyson chuckles, bumping his shoulder with yours when he walked into your place. It was definitely empty, Tyson wishing he’d known sooner you’d be without most of your stuff for another day so he could offer up his guest room. It didn’t matter to him, his mind focused more on the fact that you looked incredible, a too big Islanders shirt and a pair of shorts that were leaving little to the eye. You were digging through a box, a small aha leaving your mouth when you pulled out a mug, “Wine in a mug?”

“That’s how Mat used to pour me glasses when we first moved in together,” You admit, gripping the mug in your hand tightly. You may have stolen it from your former kitchen, but it was a memory you wanted to remember, “You can sit, I mean the only place is on my mattress but-”

“Sounds like a tradition then,” Tyson hums, sitting down and leaning against your pillows, taking a sip of his beer. You sat cross legged next to him, pouring yourself some of the wine he’d brought over in that silly I <3 New York mug Mat bought for your first place. You settled on a movie, thankful you at least had wi-fi and didn’t have to make awkward conversation with Tyson.

It’s only awkward because you’re making it awkward, you thought to yourself. Maybe Tyson was doing it on purpose, peacocking around your apartment because Mat told him he had this weird thing about you sleeping with him. He wouldn’t do that, remembering every other time Tyson’s ignored one of Mat’s grand schemes because they were bad ideas, “Excited for the season to start? A few more weeks right?”

“I’m excited for camp to be over,” Tyson groans, snuggling himself into

your mattress, “My entire body’s on fire.”

Yeah mine too. You watched the way Tyson rolled his shoulders, clear pain across his face, “Ty’s let me-”

You were usually bold, confident enough to make the first move without the fear of rejection. It could be from years of watching Mat, a true master at his craft of picking up women, and constantly encouraging you to do the same. That’s how a player plays the game Y/N. Tyson’s brows were raised at you, a blush on his neck while he let himself sit a bit. You slipped your fingers under the soft cotton of his t-shirt, digging them into the knots in his shoulder. Tyson let his eyes rest, embracing the relief you were giving him.

Of course your fingers felt like magic. Tyson was doing everything in his power to keep his cool, and not blow this one chance he’s had with you without Mat’s stupid antics in the middle of it. Just ask her out, she’ll probably reject you, but at least you’ll get laid. Mat was right, he had to be because he knew you better than anyone. It wasn’t just some claim he made either, you didn’t do relationships, never giving your heart to someone else, “How are you good at this?”

“Tito used to tell me I had a career in deep tissue massages in my future,” You joke, Tyson’s head falling back to look at you while he let out a laugh, “Sometimes I think he just wanted to save a trip to the rink…do you mind if I-?”

You were tugging at Tyson’s shirt, waiting for him to nod in response and grab it from the back and toss it off. You never took the time to look at Tyson like this, eyes scanning over his skin and taking him in. Scars on his skin, no doubt from his choice in sport and one from that time Mat took roughhousing too far over the summer. Your finger curled around a loose curl at the base of his neck, Tyson letting out a hum, “I like the curls grown out Tys.”

“Keep pulling on them,” Tyson grunts, the words falling through his lips before he could stop them. You let out a small giggle, Tyson thanking his lucky stars you didn’t just hit him. He turned around, a glimmer in his eyes that you’d seen dozens of times before. Your hand stayed in his hair, gripping his hair softly when Tyson’s lips finally landed on yours. It was slow at first, testing out the waters and Tyson waiting for the blow of rejection. His hand was on your waist, hand slipping under your shirt and rubbing your skin softly. His lips moved down your neck, scruff tickling your skin, “Been wanting this for a while…”

“Yeah?” You muse, tilting your head back while Tyson’s teeth sunk into them. His grip got tighter, your breath hitching in your throat.

“If you don’t count the years I spent wondering what the fuck you and Mat were, then every summer for the past four years,” Tyson’s eyes had gotten a shade darker, flipping you over so you were underneath him, “Don’t act like you don’t know you’re hot, or that I’ve been mentally undressing you for years.”

“Now’s your chance Tys, don’t blow it,” You chirp, waiting for Tyson’s laugh to follow, except it didn’t. Tyson’s hands pulled yours over your head, grip tight on your wrists. What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot. Mat’s words were spinning your head, taunting you because there was a chance he was actually right.

“Don’t move them,” Tyson grits, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands pulled your shirt off slowly, stifling a groan when his suspicions about your lack of bra were true, “Be a good girl-”

“Or what?” You smirk, wondering how many buttons you could press before Tyson just railed you. This was new, welcome, and maybe you shouldn’t have assumed Tyson was the boring type behind closed doors.

“Or I’ll fuck you until you’re begging to cum, but I still won’t let you,” Tyson mutters, his lips pressed against your skin while his fingers hooked under your shorts, “So are you going to be good for me?”

Tyson waited for your answer, gaining himself a plus one in your book on consent and when you nodded, your shorts and panties came clean off. Tyson hooked your thighs over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to your clit lightly, “Don’t tease Tys.”

“Am I the first person who gets you like this?” Tyson groans, watching the way your hips were squirming every light kiss he pressed around your pussy. You were an alpha female, Mat’s words, never Tyson’s, and that meant that under most circumstances you were in charge.

“Yes,” You whimper, desperate for some sort of relief. Tyson had you wound up, in a position you were used to being in and you were eating up every bit of it. He finally gave in, Tyson’s well skilled tongue swirling around your clit, pulling a moan out of you that echoed through your empty apartment. You clasped your hands together, taking every bit of strength you had not to tug on Tyson’s curls, “Fuck, Tyson let me touch you.”

“Not what we agreed to, princess,” Tyson reminds you, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit. His tongue slid up your folds, Tyson climbing back up your body and letting his spit slide down his tongue and into your mouth, “Taste yourself babe.”

You nod, obliging happily with Tyson, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head at how fucking hot this was. His lips landed on yours, reminding you just how good you were being against your mouth. Tyson’s hand grabbed one of yours, intertwining your fingers with his, “Tyson, please I wanna cum so badly.”

“Where?” Tyson hums, sucking at your skin, undoubtedly leaving you a little gift to cover up for your first day of class.

“On your cock,” You bat your eyelashes, playing into Tyson’s game because you needed some release, “All over it, please-”

Tyson kicked off his boxers, taking his own cock in his hand and pumping it a few times. He tapped your clit the head, smirking when you moaned underneath him. This was better than he imagined, all of those unwanted dirty dreams about you that seemed to be more frequent over the summer. You let your free hand move, Tyson’s head thrown back when you lined his dick up your core, guiding him inside of you, “God, you feel so fucking good.”

Tyson dropped your hand, both of his large hands gripped your hips tightly while he slammed into you. Your legs with shaking from pleasure, “Fuck, right there, please I’m so close-”

Tyson wrapped one of your legs around his waist, hitting you deeper. His arms were on both sides of your head, his lips pressed up against your ears when he spoke, “Cum for me princess.”

Tyson’s deep groans sent you over the edge, your pussy fluttering around his cock while he fucked you through your orgasm. His lips parted, hips sputtering when he pulled out and came all over your stomach with a loud fuck. You both fell silent, the realization that you broke your own rule about Mat’s stupid friends washing over you. It wasn’t regret, it was something you couldn’t quite explain. Tyson finally fell next to you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, letting his light kisses trail down your shoulder, “Let me get the shower ready for you.”

You nod, letting your eyes follow Tyson’s ass as he wandered through your place in search of your bathroom. An aftercare king too? Maybe you were biting off more than even you could chew with this one. You grab your phone, rolling your eyes at Mat’s unanswered texts complaining that you’d already replaced him with Tyson. Your fingers dance across the screen, typing up the text you’d been meaning to send since Tyson was at your front door.

You could’ve warned me Tyson got hot, you know?

You didn’t even last two weeks did you?

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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notnctu · 4 years ago

Text

POV | PART TWO

━ ❝ i’d love to see me from your point of view.❞

❀ lee donghyuck x fem!reader ❀ genre - slow burn, fluff! angst, (optional smut is marked with ****) ❀ details - best friends to lovers!au, college!au, ft. best friend mark, slice of life?, inspo by pov by ariana grande ❀ word count - 6.1k ❀ warnings - swearing, dangerous reckless behavior, fingering, penetration, public?sex?, unprotected, slight dirty talk ❀ synopsis - Donghyuck gradually falls in love with you, his best friend, through unprecedented intimate moments that reveal more than what meets the eye and a drunken shared kiss on your birthday makes him realize how hard he’s fallen for you. You’re oblivious to it all, trying to indulge and seek a one true love through bad tinder hookups or men you meet at the club, all to only end in self doubt that Donghyuck has to reconcile. And he always tells you what you need to hear, while also leaving out the part where he so badly wishes you can love yourself the way he loves you.

❀ a/n - make sure you read the first part as it’s a continuation! please please leave me feedback, i would really appreciate it :) this is going to be my last long fic for the time being! thanks for dealing with my spam for the past few weeks after months no of writings <3

READ PART ONE

Donghyuck thought about that kiss every night since it happened, yet knowing you didn’t do the same. How unfortunate it was, when he panicked waking next to you in the morning and wondering if you were to confront him about it. However, there was nothing, no follow up. You didn’t remember it and he couldn’t tell if the sigh that left his mouth that morning was out of relief or despair.

Regardless, that became his epiphany and the more his love for you grew, the more he wished to be around you for all his days. Donghyuck jumped at every text message, picking up the phone to see if it was you and noting the disappointment in his heart whenever it wasn’t. He found himself smiling whenever your name was brought up, fondly thinking of how you make his heart race.

The moments that you were together, he swears on every universe that he’s the happiest he’s ever been. There’s something about you that makes him want to believe in love, and it’s not because of your unrealistic desires to find one. As selfish as he came to be, he wanted you all to himself and to be the sole reason behind your smiles.

“No Mark?” Asking as you hop into Donghyuck’s car, the clock on his dash reading the red digital numbers 2:12 A.M.

“Why can’t we just hang out for once?” He whines, but hopes that it’s playful enough to where you can’t tell that he’s actually serious. Donghyuck hears your melodic chuckle and everything inside him rumbles with glee and satisfaction.

He steals quick peeks over at you in the passenger seat, greedily taking in your appearance. “That’s not exactly how a throuple works, but I’ll let it pass. Mark never has time for us anyways.”

There is something so intimate about the late nights; the outside world is dead in its sleep and vulnerable to chaos. The streets are completely empty and it truly feels as if it’s you two against the city. It brings no regulations, easy escapes, staying up all night to feel something the day can’t give you.

You are the perfect person to spend them with. You’re the very definition of a good feeling, where he’s forgetting all his bad days and soaring through the heavens. The most accurate human form of excitement, the adrenaline and sweetest thrills that run throughout his body.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to do…” As Donghyuck pulls into a gas station parking lot, the small convenient store is brightly lit with a blinding white sign that reads a popular chain establishment.

Hyuck blinks at you curiously, head tilt and waiting for you to finish your sentence. Getting out of the car, you stand on your toes and rest your chin on the roof of his car to speak directly to him, “you know that big intersection over on 34th Boulevard?” He catches the mischievous twinkle that shines in your eyes and a grin so fearless fits your face perfectly.

He nods, spinning his car keys on his finger and walking up to the store. But he’s looking back at you with eyes that ask for you to proceed with him, and you’re running towards him with a sudden youthful energy and a jump in your step.

Your hand latches onto his arm and his gaze drops momentarily to follow it, “I’ve always wanted to just run down the middle of it. To run down a busy traffic area when it’s empty, knowing that this would be the only opportunity to do it without getting run over.”

“Is that what you’re suggesting we should do next?” Hyuck opens the fridge and grabs his favorite prepackaged ice cream cone. Your grip on his sleeve tightens, your dazzling eyes never leaving his.

He hands you a random popsicle and you take it mindlessly, your train of thought still trying to convince Hyuck to embark on achieving this new thrill of yours. “If you didn’t have anything else planned…”

“Am I some Fairy Godmother? Granting your wishes to come true?” Using sarcasm to hide his undying desire to scream yes! may be the best thing he’s learned to utilize. However, you don’t need to beg any more when a small smile curves at his lips. He’s more than convinced.

“Ah, a happy couple. You two look great together.” The rather talkative cashier compliments while he rings up the icey treats.

Just before Hyuck can clarify, you’re pulling him closer by the arm and using your fake saccharine smile. “The best boyfriend ever!” His throat freezes, but he’s following your lead closely. Confusion wandering his thoughts, but heart swelling at your usage of the word boyfriend to reference him.

The friendly stranger laughs wholeheartedly at your giddy act, completely falling for your overplayed nature of a lovey dovey girlfriend. “He always buys me what I want, like this ice cream. He knows it’s my favorite.” You blink innocently up at him, but he finally understands your malicious motive.

Shooting a glare at you, he complies silently and pulls out his card to pay for both of your treats. “Right. Anything my baby wants.” He says the pet name so easily that it shocks him a bit.

“Hey, you’re a good man.” The clueless cashier smiles even wider and prints the receipt. With a simple gratitude, you both exit the store and you’re laughing the loudest form of mockery.

Jumping into the car, Hyuck is quick to roll his eyes. “He always buys me what I want.” He imitates your previous statement with a silly voice. “I can’t believe you robbed me.”

The ridiculous scheme actually managed to work, leaving your stomach to hurt from the intense fit of giggles. “My baby? Where did you learn that?” You say between your spurts of laughter.

Heat rises up his neck, slightly embarrassed. “So what? Nicknames are cute.” He admits bashfully, while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

Your chuckles die down and you’re leaning over the middle console to get a closer look of his expression. “Really? Didn’t think you were the type. You never used them with your exes.”

“Around you.” A cringe runs down your spine when you witness Hyuck bite his ice cream, settling back in your seat with a grumble.

“Pet names in private.” Now, his palms grow a bit slick with perspiration. “That’s endearing.” Unwrapping your melting popsicle, you don’t probe him more about the subject. Instead, Hyuck turns up the stereo to drown out any more talk about romantic gestures.

After several rounds of finding street parking, Hyuck finally swerves into a spot situated just before the large six-way intersection. The traffic lights blink in view at the end of the street and in the darkness, there are no cars around. An unfamiliar scene, this place is nothing but a wide open road with five lanes that meet in the middle and lead to six different directions. The white painted lines that divide up the road are as chaotic as it looks during the day filled with traffic.

Nonetheless, you are right. There is no other chance to see it so dead, so empty, so free.

And you’re already hopping out of the car that Hyuck breaks his daydream and hurries after you. Standing the middle of the road is a dangerous scheme, yet these are the thrill seeking moments that you crave too well.

Extending your arm out and your palm facing the night sky, you grin enticingly at Hyuck to join you in the middle of the chaotic lines and the adrenaline picks up within him. He, too, matches your smile and lets every form of enthusiasm fuel him.

“Race you to the end.” Hyuck begins bolting down the long runway, causing you to scoff in disbelief at his sudden challenge.

The wind that takes flight against his body is crisp on his skin and driving his strands into a wild mess. Turning around, he sees that you’re quick on his tail. However, the one thing that catches his eye… the one thing that makes this moment another one of your most beautiful ones is the utter bliss and peace in your facial expression.

Eyes are closed and arms are spread out as if you’re letting the wind carry you away. The air slips between the spaces of your fingers and the night is filled with nothing, but your gentle out of breath giggles.

Donghyuck stops in his tracks right under the colorful traffic lights at your astonishing image. And if you are to open your eyes, you’ll see the marvelous image of your sun waiting for you in the middle of the largest intersection of the city with his mouth slightly agape and marked under a trance.

An exasperated sigh escapes as a puff of smoke and his heart works extra hard to pump oxygen in his veins. In his perspective, the excellent city skyline at the horizon remains your background and you’re running toward him with a breathless joy. Another splitting breathtaking image that will live in his mind for as long as he knows you.

So he throws caution to the wind and though it feels too good to be true, he loves his best friend more than anyone he’s ever come across.

By the end of your rendezvous, you two find a secret rooftop to fully enjoy your silent city. Standing side by side, you both lean with your elbows on the ledge.

There is something so unspoken and intimate about this very moment, where existing in each other’s presences becomes wholly more comfortable than anything in the world. And this safety allows for vulnerable secrets to spill, for questions that your heart has always been afraid to ask to fall from your lips.

But you’re not here with just anybody. Donghyuck probably knew what was already on your mind, he just needed you to speak them into existence.

“Hyuck, do you think I’m unlovable?”

Perhaps, it’s the intimacy that allows for him to talk more confidently about how he views you. Heart over mind, he scoffs in disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’re the most lovable person I know! From your happy giggles to your overall easy going aura. We’re not perfect people, but you’re worth every glance and every praise. I wanted to be with you the very moment you made me laugh.”

Donghyuck passionately rambles on about your attributes and everything you’ve allowed him to experience over the years of your friendship. While he’s always been there for you, you’re always by his side and making sure he’s living a memorable life. He thanks all his sweetest memories to you, that you are the most impactful person of his entire college experience.

“I came to college thinking I’d have my nose in textbooks all day long, but you fell into my life like an opportunity to escape. I love my nights trying to crush Mark on the leaderboards, but I’d give that up any day to run down a major intersection in the middle of the city with you.”

With a playful soft chuckle, you say something that practically makes his heart stop and regret oversharing. “You know, from how you describe me… it almost sounds like you’re in love with me.”

“Maybe I am.” He bites the inside of his cheek, unsure what suddenly overcame him. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and he’s anticipating your response, trying every way to decipher the quizzical look on your face. Nevertheless, your hesitation causes him to panic and he intercepts before you can respond. “I meant that as your friend.”

His heart drops into the pit of his stomach, gaze averting away from you. Lies. Lies. More fucking lies. He should’ve waited to see what you would’ve said.

Nodding knowingly, you lightly place your hand over his. The warmth of your touch soothes his aching and disappointment. Why is he hurting from a simple look? “I know.” He can’t tell what’s worse, the fact that you truly believe he only loves you as a friend or that you saw right through him and are trying to let him save face.

“Something happened the night of your birthday that I think I should tell you.” Hyuck sighs out all his frustrations.

He pulls his hand from underneath yours, ��you asked me to kiss you as a birthday favor.” There is no confidence to watch your reaction, his eyes remain focused on the dark city.

Instead of a painstaking rejection, you laugh wholeheartedly and somehow, he feels much lighter. “And did you?”

“How could I say no to you on your birthday?” Peering over, your fingers softly graze your lips and a wandering look is present in your dazed stare.

“It’s not the first time we’ve kissed, Hyuck.” Smiling at him, Hyuck looks cluelessly at you and doesn’t recall another time. He would’ve remembered.

“Guess who I stole that same request from?” Your eye lashes bat firmly at him and he gulps at your implied question. There was no way.

“Me? When?” This all causes him to rack his brain of lost files, something he must’ve missed.

Sighing, you bid him a kind smile. “Your birthday party a few months ago. Drunk out of your living mind, you pulled me privately into the kitchen and asked if I could kiss you as a birthday gift.”

Fuck, no wonder why he couldn’t remember. He didn’t remember a single thing from that night. “It was right after my break up.”

Nodding, you affirm his realization. “You told me that you felt so lonely, and somehow…. someway… I’ve always made you feel seen. Perhaps, you do the same for me and my drunk ass was bold enough to ask for a similar request.”

But did you kiss him as if you loved him? With the same amount of love that he did the night of your birthday?

Nonetheless, you shrug off the topic and move on from it all. “We should go, the sun comes up in a few.”

Hyuck notes this odd detail. You’re not one to end the nights so abruptly, so it almost seemed as if you didn’t want to speak more about it.

Perhaps, you did kiss him like you meant it but every fear in your body about loving your best friend stops you from admitting it all.

Because you shouldn’t love your best friend, but something deep down has always wanted to.

How ridiculous he was to believe that you could ever possibly share the same feelings as him. How foolish he felt the moment you burst into his apartment announcing how you’ve finally found the one after another random Tinder date.

It’s as the night on the rooftop a week ago didn’t even exist or mean anything to you. But that night ate him up alive, to the point where he sought out love counseling from Mark.

“Oh dude, this is serious.” Mark watches Hyuck pace the room, double around the floorplan with his head in his hands with utter frustration and confusion. You’re the only thing that’s been running through his mind the last few days.

He grunts and rolls his eyes at how Mark’s face had fallen sullen. “I practically confessed everything I loved about her. It’s pretty serious.”

Mark stands and stops Hyuck by the shoulders, looking dead into his eyes. “I’ve liked her before too and would have done some dumb act to get her to like me back. I get it, Hyuck. So, what do you want to do?”

Donghyuck initially scoffs and tears away from his best friend’s intense stare, “of course you liked her too.” His voice fades out at the end of his sentence. “Mark, I like her so much it’s hard to look at anyone else. She’s…”

“Mesmerizing?” Mark finishes his sentence with a small proud grin on his lips.

Hyuck couldn’t hold the ridiculous laugh that escapes at how smug Mark looks, but then a silence falls over him. He realizes how perfect that word is to describe you. You are every dazzling trance he’d fawn under.

“It’s wrong, Mark. She’s our best friend, I can’t ruin us.” Hyuck slumps his shoulders forward and a pout extends. His eyes are wandering the ugly carpet but he’s thinking about every moment you’ve smiled.

“How did this happen in the first place? I thought you never would’ve liked her…” Mark’s question has Hyuck raking his brain to find his epiphany. “It’s not about your ex, is it? y/n is way too good to be a rebound.”

“No. This has nothing to do with my old relationships, I genuinely like her… so much.” Hyuck understands the implications in Mark’s sudden abrasive questions. Even it’s difficult for himself to say how it all started and so this has Donghyuck reflecting back on his entire friendship with you.

If only he had noticed your lively smiles sooner, a little earlier, it would have saved him all this time searching for someone who would last. You’ve lasted through every college relationship he’s had and that speaks louder than any confession.

“I never liked her because I never thought I had a chance. Have you seen her? Our best friend who has 400 matches on Tinder.” Though he blames himself for realizing a little late that he loved you, it was always hard to compete with everyone else.

“So, what changed then?”

Hyuck leans against the door to Mark’s room and crosses his arms to contemplate. “Not that I have a chance now, but I can’t hold these feelings back anymore. I want to kiss her until we’re out of breath, to love without any conditions, to be the reason behind her every beautiful moment.”

Mark raises a confused eyebrow, “but you are.”

“The only reason.” Hyuck speaks his truest desires and Mark coughs aggressively before composing himself. Right, he didn’t stutter one bit.

So, Hyuck had planned to confess, all until you gave him the very reason he couldn’t. When you showed up unannounced with one of those wide grins that has your eyes shimmering with hope, he just knew something was wrong. All his love and future aspirations were replaced with sheer disappointment and envy.

“I’m falling hard for him.” You begin and your hands are clasped together so innocently. “He brought me to this overlook on a cliff and we just talked for ages. It felt so right and then, he asked to see me again!” Your eyes are completely wondrous and distracted, like the one thought in your mind blocked out everything else. Jumping happily, you’re squealing with excitement thinking about this new person in your life and there is no consideration of Hyuck’s silence.

“That’s… great.” He barely stutters to fill the air and to replace the sound of his heart breaking. He lost you before even getting the chance to even have you.

“I know right!” You yell joyfully and though your smile is the biggest it's ever been, Hyuck refuses to see this moment as beautiful. He’s no longer looking at you objectively, his bias tainting it all and he sees it in an ugly light. As your best friend, he should be happy for you and rooting for you. He’s known more than anyone else that you have been waiting for someone like this your whole college experience.

However, he can’t feel a single good emotion as you ramble on about your alleged one true love.

“Did you need something?” He cuts you off, growing a bit irritated by your endless praise about a man who never wishes to meet.

Clearing your throat, you take Hyuck’s hand in both of your palms. With begging eyes, you say, “my sister is getting married this weekend and they invited you.

His hold escapes yours as he walks toward his bedroom, “shouldn’t you invite your new man to your family events now.” It’s difficult for him to hide the bitterness in his voice, but you run up to him and grip his arm.

“But they think I’m dating you, remember? Plus, my mom referred to you by name. She really likes you.” You snicker, clearly not understanding why Donghyuck seems to be rather distant at the moment.

His ears perk up at the compliment and though it’s a selfish thought, he feels content knowing that he was able to win over your family. So, his heart burns at how your hand slowly travels down to intertwine with his own and how your chin rests on his shoulder lightly. His head turns and he is met a few inches away from your tender lips. For a brief moment, he’s staring at them longer than he should.

“Come on, Hyuck. Be mine for one more time.” Your whisper is gentle and soft, your breath tickling against his cheek. Despite everything, he loves how you make him feel. It’s always a mixture of happiness and safety. There are no fears with you because you’re absolutely fearless. He can’t imagine how he would’ve opened up without you around, that he puts every form of trust into you.

So, every little thing that you do. every single passing look. every touch and every spoken word. He falls harder for you every time you simply see him, every time you bat your eyelashes at him. And this love that festers inside of him feels easy and genuine. Perhaps, you’ve been his one true love all along. He’s never felt remarkably seen, where every part is exposed and right at your fingertips.

And you… have been so patiently waiting for just anyone to steal your heart. How can he let just anyone love you?

“I’m yours for however long you want me to be.” He lightly ruffles the top of your hair before slightly shrugging you off, afraid that your hold will eventually have him saying other sweet implications. “But don’t expect me to enjoy it.” He smirks at your small chuckle, the roll in your eyes.

“At least pretend.” But he really doesn’t have to. He enjoys every moment being yours.

When the day finally arrived, the grand wedding may have been another day that Hyuck will never forget how beautiful you looked. Prancing out in your bridesmaid dress, you run towards him through the large field of fake grass. He catches you when you jump into his arms, practically failing all over and tripping over the ends of your chiffon dress. He hits the ground, cushioning your fall.

“Hey..” you grin down at him breathless, hand resting perfectly on his chest as it was the night of your 21st again.

Hyuck gulps and sends you a glare, “I should have dropped you.”

“That would have been very chivalrous of you.” Sarcasm bites back at him as you push up and off of him. He’s quick on his feet and brushing off any dust from the bottom of your expensive dress, avoiding the long open slit that runs down to expose one leg.

“Donghyuck, you’re looking ravishing.” Your mother steps out, tall and prideful, but with the most delightful expression as she opens her arms to invite him into a hug.

He leans into it, while cautiously making suspicious eye contact with you. You shrug back, also confused at why your mother has a sudden change in demeanor. “It’s been so long since the holidays.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He bids your mother a respectful smile when she pulls away, to which she absolutely fawns at and you’re tugging at his sleeve to drag him away.

“The pleasure is all mine. You make y/n a better person.” And there is no context that Hyuck understands this single phrase before he’s walking away from your force. Your mother waves a small sweet goodbye as she watches you two leave behind a cobblestone wall behind the large reception building.

It’s covered in long vines that grow up the old stones, a beautiful background for an outdoor wedding. “Rude.” He whispers when you finally stop pulling him away.

“She was starting to say odd things.” You laugh, quite nervously actually. Nonetheless, you shake out of your nerves and a beaming expression replaces your troubles. “So, guess what? I’m meeting my man afterwards.” Yet again, the curve of your lips at the thought of another rumbles his own yearning heart.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looks down while kicking at the loose pebbles on the ground. “Good for you.” grumbles Donghyuck mindlessly.

You don’t notice his low spirits again, you’re talking away about this man as if he’s all you’re consumed with nowadays. On and on, the same speech about how you’re practically ready to give it your all and how he fits someone unimaginable. Eventually, Donghyuck becomes fed up by how your eyes blink up to the sun with another reflection in them. “It’s like you forget who you are when you’re with someone new.”

And you’re in mid-ramble when you hear his harsh comment that picks aggressively at your skin. It stings, “what?” You cross your arms defensively and raise an eyebrow at him. The tone in your voice is jarringly upset and he opened a can of worms that he isn’t ready for.

Donghyuck swears underneath his breath, looking away at the tall trees behind the small parking lot. “Forget it.” He mumbles, rather frustrated at himself for ticking you off.

“What are you implying?”

“There is someone that actually makes you a better person rather than someone completely different.” He scoffs, his emotions fueling the worst of him. The words flow from his mouth full of anger and spitefulness.

Your eyes narrow at him, crossing your arms defensively. “Like you can give me the love you think I deserve? This whole fake boyfriend gimmick has gone too much to your head.”

And his heart is bursting at the seams and all he can see is your angry expression, so he says something he never hopes to regret. Every impulse beats his rationality and in the heat of the moment, Donghyuck confesses, “if only you can see yourself from my point of view and all the emotions I feel when I look at you.”

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re slightly shocked at his bold statement. You blink cluelessly at him, speechless and deciphering how to respond. The anger fades from the both of you, knowing that the connection you two possess is mutual. Somewhere deep down within you, a light switches on and you’re basking in your sun’s radiance in this moment.

“Tell me about it.” Your curiosity brings much confusion, but he doesn’t wait a second of hesitation.

“Happiness, you light up my nights in dark cars with your smile. Trust, there is no one else I’d run down a dangerous intersection with. Courage, being bold enough to dance in a crowded room like no one was watching. Love, when kissing you felt incomparable to anything else in the world. Vulnerability, looking at you and knowing everything about you.”

Donghyuck takes a cautious step forward toward you. A whirl of thoughts and emotions overwhelmingly flood your heavy mind, but fear no longer holds you back from the one person you’ve always wished to love, harder than any person you’ve ever encountered. “Donghyuck.”

He freezes at the call of his name, waiting patiently for your next words. “I want to love me the way that you love me... because nobody loves me like you do… even myself. So, I’d love to see me from your point of view.”

Donghyuck releases the sigh that suffocates him and every firework lights up in his chest. His eyes wander across your canvas and absorb everything wondrous about your features. Even though you’re not entirely smiling, you’re puckering your lips cutely out of embarrassment. And he reassesses how pretty you simply look in your expensive formal chiffon dress and the bold color on your lips that has made you feel good before.

He thinks aloud, the words leaving his mouth before they can be stopped. “This is your most beautiful moment.”

When you’re looking up at him to meet his dreamy gaze, a new enthusiasm washes over your entire body. Looking rather inexplicably attractive in his suit, Hyuck stares at you as if you’re all he can see. So, you pull him into the only source of gratitude you can give. A kiss that gives every emotion back to him, one that resembles closely to the one he gave you on your birthday and the one you gave him for his.

An emotional kiss that tells him more than he can see. He feels it on the tip of your tongue and every ounce of love that rushes over the both of you.

***********

Donghyuck’s wandering hands travel down your waist, over your hips, all until it reaches in between the slit of your dress. His hand instinctively grips at your naked thigh, the feeling of your raw skin driving him wild with impure thoughts. Your hands are quick on his tie, loosening it from around his collar and unbuttoning the first few as you’ve done once before.

“Can,-- Is it okay if--?” Hungry eyes search his face for confirmation, but you’re so lust driven that you’re a stuttering mess. “Do you want this?”

“Yes.” Says Hyuck without any hesitation. Taking his hand, you’re quick to lead him inside to a more secluded part of the venue. The lavish private bathrooms are brightly lit and he lifts you on top of the marble counters.

“The reception starts in 20 minutes.” You moan as Hyuck kisses down your neck hastily, a hand up the slit of your dress to push your panties aside.

“We’ll make it quick then. I’ll show you love another day.” His knuckle lightly grazes against your erect clit and your grip on his shoulder tightens. Whimpers fall from your lips as your hips mindlessly grind into his hand. “Never took you the type to be so loud.” Hyuck raises an eyebrow and tilts his head mockingly at you.

“This isn’t even close to how loud I can get.” Your statement causes him to swallow hard. Being your best friend, he has kept a rather clear mind from any sexual attraction toward you. He had to know he loved you in order to even see you in that way.

Gathering your slick, he rubs your clit with two fingers before dipping them into your hole. You lean back into the mirror and prop your feet on the counter to spread open for Hyuck to see. “You let all these idiots fuck your pretty pussy? They don’t deserve you, as a person or a potential partner.” He fingers you deeper and with flicking motions, he hits your sweet spot and causes you to jolt.

“Please, just fuck me. I’ve always wondered how good you’d feel.” His eyes twinkle at your bashful confession, but understands your lustful desires even for your own best friend.

“You think about fucking me?” He asks abruptly, taking his fingers out to suck your juices clean from them. A coined flattered smirk appears on his lips as he unbuckles his belt.

You’re averting eye contact, “well no, maybe just once. I get horny when I’m drunk sometimes.” You admit and he’s rushing to take himself out of his restrictive dress pants. His dick hits the air and he adjusts closer to your dripping core.

And he enters, slowly and slowly inching in so you can adhere to his size. You bite back every yell of pleasure and grip the ends of his dress shirt. Hyuck fills you up deliciously, and you two are connected through bodies beyond any way before. He leans in to give you a sloppy, yet passionate kiss before dragging out his hips and pushing them back in.

There is no guilt, no pain, no sorrows. Knowing Hyuck, he fucks you in the same way he wishes to love you. His hips drive into you passionately and quickly. The time crunch being something that causes him great distraction, but his heart is swelling simply feeling your warmth wrap around him so well.

“My baby is so tight.” Pet names in private. A small grin appears on your face at the sound of the sweet nickname and you pull him closer by tugging his shirt.

“Harder, Hyuck. Don’t hold back anymore.” Moan after moan, Hyuck relentlessly drills into you. His arm is hooked underneath your left thigh to keep it up, and your head keeps banging against the mirror.

Your eyes roll back when his thumb rubs circles on your aching clit. The mixture of both pleasures stimulate you until the build up tension in your stomach begins to reach its peak.

“Cum, I know you fucking want to.” He grunts, keeping the same rhythm that pushes you over your edge. Your walls squeeze around him tightly as your legs shake sporadically from your release. You’re smart to cover your mouth, knowing that the bathroom will only echo your erotic sounds. Your chest rises and falls from the momentum and adrenaline that Hyuck helped you reach, breathlessly trying to calm your heart rate down.

After a few more harsh bumps, he pulls out and motions you forward. Jumping off of the counter, you kneel on the ground and suck his tip lightly. Your swirls are enough for him to empty into your mouth, his hot streams of salty liquid hitting the back of your throat. He looks down at you and your wide eyed expression with his cock in your mouth drives him overboard.

And you swallow, getting up to lightly plant a sweet kiss on his cheek. A lip stain being worn proudly for just a moment.

“You amaze me.” Hyuck whispers, holding you against his flushed body and fast paced heart beat.

“Hurry out you two!” A voice startles the both of you with a knock on the door and you two are quick to readjust yourselves. He hopes to love you a little longer next time, without any interruptions.

***********

After the glorious and excruciating long wedding, you’re walking Hyuck to his car in the small parking lot. During the rest of the night, he held your hand the whole way through and the love that he looked at you with was more than real.

He talked with your distant relatives as if he’s always known them. Hyuck conducted the dinner table, always knowing what to say. There was no doubt in your head that seeing Donghyuck in the aftermath, he was always going to be someone who was going to make things better.

The love you long searched for, the love that you had been too afraid to touch, intertwined itself so lovingly underneath the white table cloth. Donghyuck is the one and it took needing to see him a bit more to realize. A little more acceptance from the both of you had to be the final straw.

Donghyuck sheepishly scratches the back of his neck when you reach his car, unsure where the path of your friendship will diverge to next. “Have fun on your date then…” His voice trails off, kicking the rocks at his feet again.

There goes your melodic laughter that soothe his aching heart and the familiar gentle grip on his fingertips. You lift his chin up, the both of you seeing each other clearly now.

From his perspective, you’re absolutely dazzling in the low light and butterflies swirl in the pit of his stomach. He can look at you forever, until months turn into years. He can love you until you two grow old. You’re his fearless, beautiful, inexplicably marvelous best friend. And he patiently waits for the day you’ll let him finally be yours.

From your perspective, Donghyuck shines even when the night overtakes the sky and possibly, the warmth in your heart bubbles across your chest. You can stay with him forever, until months turn into years. You can trust him like it’s you two against the world. He is your silly, charming, timidly benevolent best friend. And you’re slowly falling and hoping for the day you get to be his.

“I’m not going to see him anymore. He’s not the one.” Hyuck blinks at you, full of confusion and shock.

“But you sounded so happy.” His voice gets lost in the stillness of the intimate atmosphere.

“No, Hyuck. You make me happy and I’ll say it again for you to hear me. Nobody loves me like you do.” Reaching up, your hand caresses his cheek and he falls into your palm lovingly. His heart runs a mile, reaching the greatest high he’s ever going to feel. He hopes his eyes don’t deceive him, but the utter perfection on your face makes him feel whole.

You wish that Hyuck can teach you to love yourself the way that he loves you.

“Take me home?”

“How could I ever say no?”

thank you for being patient with me! its finally done and i will be going on a writing hiatus for a bit. housemating and ridin club will come out sometime soon, but i really need to step away from writing for a bit. please understand, thank you for reading :)

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #neosmutcollective #kpopscape #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct scenario #lee haechan #haechan scenarios #haechan smut #nct smut #nct imagines #nct #nct dream scenarios #nct imagine

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slashmagpie · 3 years ago

Text

This Garden Once Was Perfect, Chapter Six

First | Prev | AO3

A DSMP longfic inspired by @rozugold’s @painted-illusions-au.

Wilbur blinks at him. “Tommy,” he says, “Tommy, I have been wearing the same trench coat for over a decade, Tommy. I’m filthy. Tubbo stinks of gunpowder, I don’t know if you’ve noticed that, but he does—and your hair is so greasy you could use it to oil hinges. We are a trio of disgusting grimy boys and we all need a bath.”

4.8k words. TWs: minor strangulation, past character death.

Tubbo is watching Tommy sleep.

Tommy looks small like this, which is strange, because small isn’t really a word Tubbo would use to describe him. Not only is he fuckoff lanky with, like, half a foot on Tubbo, but his personality is big, too, big and loud and chaotic and in-your-face. He has never known Tommy to cower, to curl in on himself and burrow under blankets and hide himself away. It’s such a small change, in the grand scheme of things, but it’s enough to half-convince Tubbo that the boy lying on the bed is not his friend, just some pale imitation—or, it would be, if the way he breathed were not so achingly familiar, those aborted little half-snores and snuffles.

There’s a scar on Tommy’s cheek that hadn’t been there when he left L’Manberg. It’s clearly months old, pale and fading but not faded. Tubbo’s familiar enough with battle to imagine the blow, to picture the sickening snick of a sword slicing through skin. It had probably hurt.

Tubbo wonders if Tommy had fought back.

He buries his face in his knees and feels a yawning emptiness in his chest. In another life, he’d probably have cried, shed tears for his sleeping friend and their whole fucked up situation, but there’s nothing left in him now. He just listens to Tommy breathe and tries to breathe in time with him, always just a little out of sync.

And then even more out of sync as the rhythm of Tommy’s breathing changes: it picks up speed, becoming just a little laboured. Tubbo raises his head just slightly, peeks over his knees and under his overgrown fringe to see Tommy’s face creased up as his fist clutches the blankets so hard his knuckles have turned white. As Tubbo watches he flinches in his sleep, letting out a keening whine, and Tubbo may not be able to cry anymore but he can feel his heart clench at the sound.

“Tommy,” he whispers, reaching out to shake Tommy’s shoulder. “Tommy, wake up.”

Tommy’s eyes snap open with a strangled gasp and the next thing Tubbo knows he’s being shoved back against the wall, a hand wrapped around his throat. He chokes, flailing, grabbing at Tommy’s wrist with one hand as his friend looks at him with no recognition in his unfamiliar grey eyes.

“Tommy,” he croaks, and he sees the moment awareness returns to Tommy, the sudden realisation and horror in his face as he drops Tubbo and scrambles backwards. Tubbo collapses in on himself, coughing and gasping for air, one hand gently prodding his neck to assess the damage as he splutters spit onto the bed sheets. The skin has definitely bruised, and his throat feels sore, but he doesn’t think there’s any real damage done.

He glances up and is surprised to see Tommy on the other side of the room, curled up between Tubbo’s bed and the wall, watching Tubbo with wide, scared eyes. He flinches when Tubbo’s gaze lands on him, his hands coming up almost instinctively to shield his head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t—I wasn’t—I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you I’m sorry I—”

“Tommy,” Tubbo calls, keeping his voice soft, but Tommy flinches nonetheless, going silent. “Tommy, it’s okay. I’m okay. It was an accident, I get it.” He forces a smile. It feels unnatural on his face.

Tommy doesn’t call him out on it, just staring up with suspicion in his gaze. “I hurt you,” he says again, like he’s giving the answer to a test but isn’t entirely sure it’s correct.

“It’s not the first time you’ve accidentally given me some bruises, big man,” Tubbo says, tone light. “I’ll be alright. Are you okay? You were having a nightmare.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s eyes flicker down, his head lowering so that his hair is hiding his face. “Yeah. That.” He laughs, high and reedy. “Don’t worry about it, I get ‘em all the time. No big deal.”

Tubbo suppresses a wince. There are words on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite bring himself to say them. Me too. I get them all the time too. You’re not the only one.

He swallows them down instead, shifting to get more comfortable on the bed. “Why don’t you come back up here?” he offers, patting the sheets beside him.

“Um. Sure. Okay.” Tommy moves slowly, hesitantly, watching Tubbo like he still half expects him to lash out. Tubbo doesn’t move. Eventually Tommy sits back on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging over the side and one curled up beneath him. He’s half turned away from Tubbo; the scar on his cheek is in clear view. Tubbo tries his best not to stare.

Tommy glances around the room, swallowing several times before he speaks. “Um, why… Why am I in your room?”

Tubbo blinks. “Oh, right. Um, Wilbur brought you in here. He didn’t want you to sleep on the floor.”

Tommy looks upset by that. “Oh.”

“We really gotta get you a bed, Big Man.”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, it’s really not a big deal.”

“Well, you can’t just keep sleeping on the floor.” Tubbo’s tone is teasing, but Tommy flinches nevertheless. “It’s not good for you. And it can’t be comfortable.”

Tommy shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s not about being comfortable,” he says, a hint of something harsh at the edges of his words.

Tubbo’s heart beats a little faster, but he feigns ignorance regardless. “Then what’s it about?”

Tommy doesn’t answer, just stares down at his hands. They’re wrapped in bandages—Tubbo hasn’t seen him without them on. He wonders what they’re hiding, and then wonders if he even wants to know.

“Tubbo,” Tommy says, “where’s Wilbur? He isn’t—he’s not sleeping out there, is he?” Tubbo freezes. His mind whirls, desperately trying to come up with an excuse, but his brain has decided to inconveniently take a holiday. “Tubbo? Where’s Wilbur?” There’s something a little more desperate to Tommy’s tone now.

“He, um, he left.”

“What do you mean he left?!” Tommy cries, jumping to his feet so fast it makes Tubbo jump. “And, what, you just lethim?!”

“He’s coming back!” Tubbo reassures, holding up his hands. “He just, he went after Puffy and Sam—”

That was the wrong thing to say. Tommy looks like he’s torn between blowing up and breaking down, staring at Tubbo with an ugly, raw desperation in his eyes. Before he can choose, however, there’s the familiar creak of the trapdoor opening, and the two of them go still.

Tommy is the first to move, tearing out of the bedroom and into the main room. “Wilbur!” he cries.

Tubbo hears Wilbur’s surprised response of, “Tommy?” and gets to his feet, creeping towards the doorway. Wilbur is standing at the bottom of the ladder, Tommy hovering before him like he’s not sure whether he wants to hug his brother or yell at him.

He opts for the latter. “What the hell, man?! Tubbo said you went after Puffy and Sam!”

Wilbur looks over Tommy’s head and meets Tubbo’s gaze, and Tubbo can’t help but shy away from the judgement there, wincing apologetically. Wilbur sighs. “Yeah, Tommy, I went after them. Do you have a problem with that?”

Tommy sets his jaw. Tubbo and Wilbur both graciously pretend they can’t see him trembling. “You—You know I don’t want them here, I don’t want you talking to them, I—I told you—”

“I know,” Wilbur says, “but I didn’t go after them because of you.”

Tommy scoffs. “Yeah? Then why did you go?”

Wilbur makes a show of looking awkward, gaze flicking away as he reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck. Tubbo can’t help but feel a little sick, even as he’s impressed: even after all this time, Wilbur Soot is still a phenomenal liar.

“Puffy’s a therapist,” he says, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “I—you know I’m fucked up. I just, I wanted to… I wanted some advice. So I don’t, y’know, go insane and blow everything up again.” He laughs, and the tension drains from Tommy’s shoulders; he’s no longer afraid, just concerned.

“Oh,” he says. “Are you… okay?”

Wilbur nods, reaching forward to ruffle Tommy’s hair. “Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t you worry about me, okay?”

“You make it very hard not to,” Tommy grumbles. Then, louder: “Don’t leave without telling me again, okay?”

“Okay,” Wilbur agrees with a nod.

Tubbo can’t tell if he’s lying or not.

Tommy seems to accept it, nodding himself before he’s cut off by a yawn splitting his jaws. He looks tired—Tubbo feels tired, exhaustion dragging at his limbs. Wilbur glances over the two of them, a familiar weariness in his gaze, and sighs.

“Okay, bedtime,” he says, taking Tommy by the shoulders and pushing him towards the bedroom door. “It’s late, we’re all tired as shit, I don’t want either of you waking me up until at least midday.”

“Uh, Wil, this isn’t my room,” Tommy says as Wilbur drags him through the doorway.

“You’re not sleeping on the fucking floor, Tommy, I won’t have it,” Wilbur says firmly. Tommy looks pleadingly over at Tubbo, but Tubbo doesn’t meet his gaze, stepping back towards his own bed and sitting down on it as Wilbur closes the door, sealing the three of them in together. “Now pick a bed.”

“There’s only two,” Tommy complains.

“And we’ve all shared before,” Wilbur fires back.

Tommy bites his lip, glancing back and forth between Tubbo and Wilbur. He meets Tubbo’s eyes, and Tubbo smiles encouragingly at him; then Tommy’s gaze drops down to Tubbo’s neck, to the hand-shaped bruise that is just beginning to form, and he flinches away.

“Fine, I’ll share with you,” he mutters to Wilbur, and Tubbo’s not sure if the way his stomach drops is with disappointment or relief.

“Great,” Wilbur says, pulling off his trenchcoat and kicking off his boots in a pile at the end of the bed. Tubbo wriggles under his own covers and listens to Tommy and Wilbur’s halfhearted bickering as they try and figure out sleeping positions.

“Ow, your elbows—”

“How small do you think I am?”

“Your hair is in my face!”

“Dude, where am I meant to lie with these bloody wings in the way?!”

Eventually they quiet down, and then it’s just the three of them, lying in the dim light—not darkness, never darkness, not down here where it’s all too easy for mobs to spawn and kill them in their sleep. The light is gentle enough that it doesn’t really bother Tubbo, at least not most of the time.

He lets out a breath and rolls over onto his side, peeking through one eye at Wilbur and Tommy in the bed across from him. Tommy is curled up with his face pressed against Wilbur’s chest, Wilbur curled protectively around him, wings surrounding the two of them like a blanket. His hand is in Tommy’s hair, lethargically running his fingers through it as he drifts off.

That empty aching feeling is in Tubbo’s chest again. He thinks he might drown in it.

He rolls over so his back is to them and squeezes his eyes shut, slowing his breathing like he’s pretending to sleep, and hopes the real thing will soon follow.

----

Wilbur wakes to an empty room and the enticing smell of cooking food. He lies in bed for a moment, blinking the last of his sleep from his eyes and listening to the faint echoing of voices from beyond the door into the base’s main room. He lets out something between a sigh and a groan as he sits up, stretching out sore shoulders and wings with a wince before standing and padding with socked feet out of the room.

Tommy and Tubbo are in the kitchen, Tommy standing by the stove and Tubbo perched on a countertop watching him. There are bandages wrapped around Tubbo’s neck, and Wilbur thinks he should be worried, but Tubbo seems in good spirits, smirking whenever Tommy isn’t looking directly at him. He catches Wilbur’s eye and waves.

“Morning, Wilbur,” he greets, causing Tommy to startle.

“Wil!” Tommy says. “I’m making scrambled eggs!”

Wilbur feels his stomach grumble, and once more feels remorse that they’d never gotten around to finishing the stew last night. “Sounds great,” he says, walking to peer over Tommy’s shoulder at the contents of the pan. It actually looks pretty good.

“It was supposed to be omelettes,” Tubbo says, “but Tommy fucked it up.”

“Tubbo!” Tommy hisses. “He wasn’t supposed to know—I mean, what do you mean, this is entirely what I intended to make.”

“Uh-huh.” Tubbo raises an eyebrow.

“It is! It’s, uh, deconstructed. Yes. You’d pay big money for this at one of those fancy restaurant places.”

“No, they’d serve you a tiny omelette,” Tubbo says. “Like, like this big.” He holds the tips of his thumb and forefinger together, creating a small circle.

“Like one of those dollar pancakes,” Wilbur says with a knowing nod. Both Tommy and Tubbo stare at him blankly.

“Like what?”

“Y’know, they’re these little mini American pancake puff things?”

Tommy pulls a face. “Oh, they’re American. They probably taste like shit.”

Tubbo says, “I think American pancakes are better, personally.”

Tommy gasps, swatting at him with the spatula. “You did not just say that.”

“What? They’re fluffy!”

“They’re fluffy,” Tommy mocks, disdain clear in his tone, “I can’t believe you. They’re disgusting. You’re disgusting. Get out of my kitchen.”

“No can do, boss man, someone’s got to make sure you don’t ruin those eggs.”

Tommy glares at him and, wordlessly, flicks a glob of half-cooked egg into Tubbo’s face. Tubbo splutters, flailing, and falls backwards from the counter, crashing onto the floor. Wilbur startles, opening his mouth to ask if he’s okay, but then Tubbo is laughing, and Tommy is laughing, and Wilbur can’t help but laugh as well.

“You’re the worst,” Tubbo complains.

“Have better taste in pancakes next time,” Tommy shoots back.

“I think the eggs are burning,” says Wilbur.

“Shit.”

There’s a mad scramble to turn off the stove and shovel the not-quite-burnt eggs onto plates, but eventually the three of them are sitting in their floor circle once again with breakfast. Wilbur’s about to pinch one of the larger chunks of egg between his fingers when Tommy says, “Oh, yeah, hang on, I got—” and pulls three forks from his pocket, holding them out.

“Oh, shit, thanks,” Wilbur says, taking one. “Where’d you get ‘em?”

“Stole them from Eret,” Tommy says, and Wilbur can’t help but grin.

“Nice. Fuck Eret.”

Tommy smiles back. “Fuck Eret,” he echoes.

“Fuck Eret,” Tubbo adds, words muffled by a mouthful of egg.

They finish eating and Tubbo collects their place, heading to the basin to watch them. Tommy looks from Wilbur to Tubbo, playing with the loose bandages around his fingers.

“So,” he says, “did you guys want to do anything today?”

Wilbur grins. “I’m glad you asked,” he says.

“You have plans?” Tubbo asks, a little suspiciously.

“Several!” Wilbur chirps, getting to his feet. He still has some tools in his inventory from his and Tubbo’s mining exploration, so it’s easy for him to walk to the tunnel toward the bathroom and start digging out another room. Tubbo and Tommy watch him with clear confusion as Wilbur mines out a room and then hollows out a significant portion of the floorspace in that room. He heads back out into the main room, grabs the bucket of lava Tommy keeps by the lectern, and pours it out into the hollow, before covering that with more stone.

“Wil,” Tommy says, something akin to doubt in his voice, “what are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” Wilbur says. “Just give me a minute, alright?”

They do, watching as Wilbur walks over to the farm and grabs a couple of buckets, filling them with water, and walking back over to the new room, pouring them into the hollow. Tubbo is the first to realise what he’s doing.

“Oh,” he says, “you’re making a bath.”

“I am doing exactly that!” Wilbur says. “Do you two wanna grab some buckets and help me fill it?”

Tubbo does so, but Tommy doesn’t move from his spot, staring at Wilbur with narrowed eyes. “Why?” he says.

“Because it’s gonna take me ages by myself, Tommy, I—”

“No,” Tommy cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Why’re you making a bath?”

Tubbo returns with a pail of water and empties it into the bath. Tommy doesn’t meet Wilbur’s eyes, reaching up to tug at his hair. “It’s not that greasy,” he says.

“It’s kind of greasy,” Tubbo says.

“It’s so fucking greasy, man,” Wilbur says. “When was the last time you washed it?”

Tommy opens his mouth to reply, thinks for a second, and then closes it. “Point taken,” he mumbles. “Fine, okay, I’ll help you fill your bath.”

“Good,” Wilbur says, handing him a bucket and heading to refill his own. “I may be a dirty crime boy, but in an ideal world the only dirty thing about me would be my mind and my deeds.”

Tommy pulls a face. “You can keep those to yourself, thank you very much.”

With the three of them working together, it doesn’t take too long to fill the bath. Wilbur takes a moment to block off the small room he’s dug out, adding in a small stone wall with a line of glass windows that quickly fog up from the steam, and finally adds a door. “I’m going first,” he proclaims, and neither Tommy nor Tubbo stop him as he closes the door and strips out of his clothes.

The bath is technically big enough for all three of them to bathe at once, and it wouldn’t be the first time they had—early L’Manberg, back when they were still at war, had been a single van, and there wasn’t much room for privacy in such close quarters. Bath days had been an event, the five of them splashing around in the river and making jokes and stealing each others’ clothes in the aftermath, hiding them somewhere so the victim would have to take a naked walk of shame to retrieve them. It had been stupid and silly and fun, back when there was still room in their lives for stupid and silly and fun, before the war had gotten bad and the politics far too big for any of them to handle.

Things are different now, so Wilbur shuts the door and bathes alone.

He sinks down into the water and oh, holy shit.

Wilbur doesn’t think he’s been this comfortable in nearly twelve years. He’s not even aware of the tension in his muscles until the warm water is leeching it away, or how much dirt is caked in the creases of his skin until it isn’t anymore. He lies back, arms outstretched, and floats on the surface of the water, letting his thoughts drift for a moment of mindless bliss.

He’s brought back to the present by something he hadn’t accounted for: the discomfort of sodden feathers.

He rights himself, feet touching the warm stone floor, and glances back over his shoulder at his wings.

If he’s being totally honest, he’s not entirely sure how he feels about them. He’s not even really sure he’s totally processed that they’re there; he forgets about them most of the time, until he tries to walk through a doorway and catches a wing on the frame. In any other circumstance, he’d probably have taken a moment to at least freak out about their presence, but he’s had so much going on that he hasn’t had the chance to do even that. Mostly that’s been because of Tommy—and Tubbo, and the whole coming-back-to-life situation—but it’s also, a little bit at least, because thinking about his wings means thinking about Phil, and Wilbur very much doesn’t want to do that.

He’s thinking about it now, though, as he runs his fingers through waterlogged feathers, about letters full of lies and a terrified yell of you’re my son! The feeling of fingers gripping tight to the hilt of a blade, and the feeling of being run through, of breathing his final breath.

He submerges himself beneath the water just for the sake of distraction, holding his breath until his lungs burn and then releasing it to watch the bubbles float up to bob amongst the drifting strands of his hair.

He resurfaces and grimaces once again at the feeling of wet feathers. He’s pretty sure that’s not meant to happen—aren’t birds waterproof or something? He vaguely remembers Phil telling him as much when he had been small and worried about the crows outside during a storm. He’s sure Phil would know what to do here, but Phil is—

His mind goes to the communicator he’d hurriedly shoved in his pocket last night. He glances up at the window and, reassured that the glass is too fogged up for Tommy or Tubbo to see anything through, wades over to his clothes and rummages through them until he finds what he’s looking for.

He hasn’t glanced at it since setting it up, and seeing the mass of confused and angry messages in the chat makes him wince. He doesn’t bother responding to them, instead clicking through to a private chat with his father.

You whispered to Ph1lzA: hey phil it’s me

It takes several minutes for a reply to come through.

Ph1lzA whispered to you: wil…? is that really you…?

You whispered to Ph1lzA: yh long story

You whispered to Ph1lzA: i need advice

Ph1lzA whispered to you: what’s up?

You whispered to Ph1lzA: wings

You whispered to Ph1lzA: i have them now

You whispered to Ph1lzA: not sure what to do with them

You whispered to Ph1lzA: i took a bath and they’re wet

Once again he’s left waiting. He runs his hands through his hair—they don’t have any soap, he’ll have to make some, but he tries his best to detangle and clean what he can. There’s a not-insignificant amount of matting he’ll probably have to cut off, but even then, Wilbur thinks he can probably keep a lot of the length. He might. The face of his reflection is not as old as it should be, not as old as Wilbur feels—if his hair was returned to its usual style, he’d probably look near-identical to the young man who had been president. Wilbur is not that man, cannot stand to look like him. Maybe the hair will help.

Phil finally messages back.

Ph1lzA whispered to you: you should have an oil gland. get a little oil on your fingers when you preen and it should waterproof the feathers.

Ph1lzA whispered to you: also feather positioning can impact how wet your feathers get. if you come see me, i can show you…?

You whispered to Ph1lzA: srry can’t. thx tho.

Ph1lzA whispered to you: of course

Ph1lzA whispered to you: i’ll be here if you ever need me

Wilbur turns the communicator off again and puts it back in his pocket, pulling himself out of the bath and shaking off what little water he can. He opens the door and pokes his head out; Tommy and Tubbo are sitting opposite each other, playing some kind of card game. “Hey, can one of you get me a towel?”

“Yeah, hang on,” Tommy says, and returns a moment later with a towel. Wilbur takes it.

“Thanks.” He ducks back into the bathroom and quickly dries off and dresses, pulling a face as he puts on the musty old clothes. They need to get some kind of laundry system sorted out here as well. He puts it on his mental to do list as he steps out into the hallway and looks down at the two teens. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll go,” Tubbo volunteers, and Wilbur steps out of the way to let him past into the bath. Wilbur and Tommy look at each other for a moment, and then Tommy holds up the pack of cards.

“Go fish?”

Wilbur had had a pack of cards in limbo—it had been one of the only things he’d had, the only thing to get his mind off the eternal boredom. He had played countless games of solitaire, and now, looking at the cards in Tommy’s hand, he realises it’s the only game he still remembers how to play. Go fish, poker, blackjack, he knew them once, he knows he did, but he tries to remember the rules and all he can remember is solitaire. He could play the game in his sleep.

He could tell Tommy as much. He could fudge the details and simply ask for a refresher of the rules—it had been so long, after all, surely most people would have forgotten the rules of go fish after a decade of not playing. He could challenge Tommy instead to a game of competitive solitaire.

He stares at the cards in Tommy’s hands and thinks that if he ever plays another game of cards he will actually go insane.

“Actually,” he says, holding out a sodden wing, “I needed to preen my feathers.”

“Oh,” Tommy says, face falling a little. “Okay.”

“You could help me, if you’d like?” Wilbur offers.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Neither do I,” Wilbur admits. “I watched Phil do it like, years ago, but I don’t really remember what he did at all.” He shoots a glare at the wings. “Bloody inconvenient, these things are, really.”

“I guess I can try,” Tommy says, still a little hesitant as he glances over Wilbur’s wings.

“Great!” Wilbur says. “Let’s try together. I mean, birds can do it, and they don’t even have thumbs. How hard can it be?”

Several minutes later, sitting in the centre of the main room, they find that the answer to that question is very.

“Ow!”

“I just moved it!”

“Well, you moved it the wrong way.”

“I moved it the same way as the other one!”

“Well, that feather wasn’t like the other one.”

“How am I meant to know that?!”

“Use your eyes, dipshit! Oh my god. Useless child.”

“I’m not fucking useless!”

“You can’t even preen correctly!”

“Yeah, well, neither can you!”

Wilbur takes that one. “Yeah, okay, fair.” He groans, flopping back onto Tommy, who squawks and flails under his weight. “I hate this, why did Phil have to give me his shitty bird genes.”

“Wil, your feathers are in my fucking mouth!” Tommy splutters.

Wilbur sighs. “I can’t even fly with them, Tommy, they’re literally just dead weight. Why am I here? Just to suffer? Every day I wake up with two useless limbs sticking out of my back.”

“Get off!” Tommy shoves him, and Wilbur chokes as he’s suddenly winded by an elbow in his ribs. He shuffles to the side, flopping to the floor and letting Tommy wriggle out from beneath him. There are a couple of feathers sticking out of Tommy’s hair and a sour expression on his face. Wilbur can’t help but laugh. Tommy scowls. “Stop laughing, prick.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Wilbur says, still snickering as he reaches forward to pluck the feathers out from Tommy’s hair. He twirls them between his fingers: they’re larger than a regular bird’s, but oddly-shaped, almost misshapen, and fluffy around the edges. He frowns, looking down at them. They don’t look like how he remembers Phil’s feathers looking. They look wrong.

“Wilbur?” Tommy says, breaking into his thoughts. “You okay there? You’ve gone kind of…”

“Yeah,” Wilbur says, pulling his gaze away from the feathers. “Yeah, I’m… Yeah.” He swallows.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asks.

Wilbur shrugs. “I think there’s something wrong with my wings,” he admits.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, man, it’s just… I get a feeling. They’re all fucked up.”

“Is it something that can be fixed?”

“Maybe? I dunno. Phil’d know, probably, but he’s not here, and I’m not gonna go to him.”

“Right,” Tommy says, looking at him strangely. “It’s probably a good thing, anyway, that your wings are all messed up. You can’t fly away that way, right?”

Wilbur’s chest aches. His wings are a constant discomfort, pulling him down. Tommy is doing that thing again where he’s trying to grin, but it just isn’t sitting right on his face, looking more like a grimace than anything.

He crushes the feather in his fist. “Yeah,” he says, “you’re right. I wouldn’t wanna fly anywhere anyway.”

It’s a lie, but Tommy smiles nonetheless.

#magpie feather quill #dsmp #fanfiction #welcome to part one of two of what i have dubbed 'the fluff interlude'#tgowp

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Petty Pair (Raymond/F!Reader)

Summary: Reader wants to fuck Raymond to spite his father. Raymond thinks that’s really hot, actually.

A/N: This idea came into my head and literally never left. It lives rent free in my head, and I hope you feel it now, too. Couple: Raymond/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, mild exhibitionism, getting caught Word Count: 5k

MASTERLIST

——————

There was a grand total of one functioning bar in this town at this hour of night. This drastic and unforgivable shortage of places for me to buy alcohol was also the only reason I found myself frequenting said bar.

After about an hour of swatting off a group of men that were objectively disgusting, I resigned myself to fate and the realization that the night would turn out no better than it would have if I hadn’t tried to get drunk on cheap liquor. I was ready to pack up, close out, and fuck off back home when it happened.

A familiar face walked through the door. Familiar, I suppose, was a stretch. I’d only seen his face in one picture – a picture I’m pretty sure was meant to be thrown away. It stuck out to me because it was the first indication that I got that Donald Wadsworth had a son. And a cute son, much less.

My brain scanned through buried memories to try and find the one where his recently divorced mother had told me his name. I knew the memory existed somewhere, surrounded under a mountain of bullshit, but it was so hard to focus when I was watching the poor kid shuffle over to the bar and plop himself down against the counter.

It had taken me that long to realize that he was wearing pajamas. Cute.

His fashion choices and bedhead paired nicely with the pout he wore when he shyly scanned the room. Altogether, everything about him assured me that he literally couldn’t have been less intimidating if he tried. That theory was further solidified by the way he shrunk against the counter when he saw me approach. By the time I sat down next to him, he’d all but disappeared under his jacket.

“Hey, you’re... Raymond, right?” The name came to me at the same time his eyes locked with mine. The dark hazel color shone almost gold in the orange hue of the bar.

“You’re Donald’s son?” I asked as warmly as possible while using his father’s name. Which is to say, not warm at all.

“Unfortunately,” Raymond droned with a similar disdain.

“I’ll say,” I chuckled as I leaned forward to match his slouch over the bar. “I work with your dad.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That alone seemed to cause a shift in his entire demeanor. It didn’t surprise me. Most of the women in this town were brainwashed into thinking that if a guy didn’t outright assault you at first glance, he was probably a solid dude.

And Donald Wadsworth was not a solid dude.

“He’s like, a giant fucking asshole,” I said.

Raymond’s eyes lit up.

“Right?!” he shouted back, practically falling from his seat in his enthusiasm as he continued to yell, “I know!”

There was no keeping it together with this caricature of a man, but I didn’t really want to, either. In the few seconds I’d interacted with him, everything about him changed from defensive to relaxed. Like all he needed was someone to tell him that it wasn’t all in his head.

Unfortunately, I was going to need to ask something of him. But I figured he wouldn’t mind what I was going to request.

“But hey, that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor to ask you.” I kept my tone even and nonchalant, trying to avoid coming off as parental.

He eyed me as warily as I expected, tugging his drink a little bit closer as he started to shrink in on himself again.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he mumbled, “there’s not really anything I can do to hurt him that I haven’t already tried.”

There was no need for self-degradation. Raymond might have thought he tried everything, but from his body language around a woman, it was safe to assume he’d never tried my plan.

“Wanna bet?”

Raymond sighed in surrender before he shrugged, “Sure. What’s the favor?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

It wasn’t my intention to wait until the drink was in his mouth before I spoke, but it was how it ended up happening. And almost instantaneously, he spat the drink out over the bar before calmly squeaking, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I want to have sex with you,” I repeated like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then I sought confirmation that was only a little important in the grand scheme of things. “You’re staying at his place, right?”

“Just for tonight, yeah—" he started, but all I heard was the ding of a checkmark on my mental list that meant we were cleared for the next step.

“Great. We should do it there, then. Tonight.”

Raymond’s tongue stuck out from between his teeth, the visual of restraint matching his narrowed, shifty eyes and fidgety legs.

“I feel like I’m missing something...” he muttered.

I heard him, but I didn’t really care. The clock was running, and I was ready to get something good out of this night. Possibly even two good things, if he ended up being as helpful as his cute, submissive demeanor implied.

“I’ll drive. You want to go now?”

“I— I mean, sure, yeah,” he stumbled over the words and his own feet as he left the bar. “We can… go have sex.”

I laughed at how cool he tried to sound because he definitely failed. I reached past him to drop cash on the bar and grabbed his hand on the way back. The amount of warmth stormed it in was shocking, considering all the blood seemed to be in his face, ears, and the tent in his pants. But the comfort of his fingers interlocking with mine on instinct did more for me than he knew.

“Great. Let’s go.”

Raymond was silent on the way out and into the car, which was about what I expected from him. Every glance his way would show the gears slowly turning in his head, like he was still trying to grasp whether my proposition was serious. Like I was trying to murder him or something.

When the car started, so did some sliver of confidence in him, although he still cleared his throat before he asked, “Do you need directions, or…?”

“No, I’ve been to his place before.”

That caution and suspicion returned and multiplied, and before I even pulled out of the parking lot he had shrugged down in the seat and buried his face in his hands.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck my dad,” he whined in the most dramatic manner possible.

I couldn’t blame him for the theatrics, although the implication was not at all appreciated.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I spat, my face curling into a pure expression of disgust. At least we both felt similarly on that note.

“Thank god.” The relief flowed through him, allowing him to sit back up to his previously half-straight position. I decided that it was probably best to cut him some slack for assuming I would ever fuck that devil of a man, because I got the sinking suspicion that he might have known a couple girls his age that had done exactly that.

That thought led me back to the very reason I was there at all, and a chill ran down my spine as I muttered without thinking, “Wasn’t for a lack of his trying, though.”

The whole tone in the car shifted in seconds. One glance over at Raymond confirmed the repressed rage and sadness rolling off of him in waves that were more accurately described as a tsunami.

It was just unsettling enough that I snapped my eyes back to the road, giving a nervous chuckle to tell him that it wasn’t that serious. I didn’t need him to defend my honor, or anything. It did enough to quell most of the rage, but that self-pitying sadness was still there when he let out a shy, quiet plea.

“I don’t want to pry but… Will you tell me what this is about?”

“You really want to know?”

It was one thing to know the vague generalities of how much his father sucked, but another thing entirely to paint him a vivid depiction of what he was willing to do.

“Yeah,” he said with fiddling hands, “I think.”

I think he was trying to do me a favor. I think listening to my story was meant to be a sign to me that there were people who would care — people who would believe me. He clearly didn’t actually want to hear the story, but I appreciated his willingness to experience some discomfort to make up just a small part of his father’s misdeeds.

“So, I’m new at the school, right? It’s awkward. It’s a small town and everyone knows everyone,” I started, trying to look over at Raymond whenever I could to show him that I was doing alright. The poor thing looked like he needed the reassurance more than I did.

“Your dad very quickly tried to take me under his wing, despite my very obvious discomfort.”

“Sounds like him,” he interrupted with a pissed-off murmur.

“Yeah. I just kind of accepted his help because I was too scared to say no, but then one day he…” My voice trailed off, the words getting clogged in my throat and muddled on my tongue. It wasn’t that bad of a story; it should have been easier to explain. But something about Raymond being there, him listening to me so intently and with such a strong desire to make it better, that made it hard to speak. Eventually, I managed to start again. “He cornered me in the damn teacher’s lounge and—“

“Please don’t give me a reason to kill him. I’ve been toeing that line my whole life, and I will definitely do it.”

That time when Raymond cut me off, it was very clear to me that he was not kidding. He enunciated the words so clearly, venom dripping from his tongue and his chest heaving with a determination coming through clear, despite his best efforts to hide it.

He was a sweet kid.

“He didn’t try to touch me or anything. It wasn’t like that,” I said with an awkward smile, reaching over to pat his thigh. The action alone seemed to calm him, almost like a dog that was being told to stand down.

He was a really cute kid.

But I had to finish this stupid story. I had to give him all the information so that he would know exactly why I’d invited myself into his bed. Sex is sort of a big deal, you know? I mean, not always, but the other party in spite sex should probably know who exactly the target is.

“He just made it very clear that he felt I owed him something, and I kindly told him to fuck off,” I concluded just as we pulled up the dirt drive. The bumps in the road seemed to shake some other memories in Raymond, and he just shook his head to rid himself of those, along with the story he’d just heard.

He looked over at me with a new understanding and something else.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“Yep,” I said with a pop of my lips to match the sound of my car door opening. He clambered out of the car much less gracefully, which was funny considering he’d had significantly less to drink.

But I figured I would have the decency not to laugh, instead just joining him on the passenger side of the car to finish our conversation before we went inside. I wanted to give him the chance to change his mind. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Although I was the one who would have to deal with the brunt of the downfall, Donald wasn’t my family. Like, I wouldn’t be at his holiday dinners. Then again, I’m not sure Raymond would be, either.

When I looked up from the thought, Raymond was staring at me. It wasn’t like before, though. There was nothing suspicious or any sign of concern in his eyes. No, they were filled with a very different feeling.

“You want to fuck me just to spite my dad?” he asked with a deadly seriousness.

I thought about it for exactly one second before I shrugged at the extremely accurate summary.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“God,” Raymond practically groaned, throwing himself on me and pinning me against the car with his hips before he growled, “that’s so fucking hot.”

Those same lips that produced the words quickly covered mine with the same force he’d used to pin me against the metal. I didn’t fight him at first because, well, I didn’t want to. It was the first clear sign he’d given that he really wanted to do this, and who was I to argue with how he expressed his consent?

Also, he was like, a really, really good kisser. The desperation he felt came through in his tongue as it tangled with mine, drawing a quiet, muffled moan from me that alerted me to how quickly this would escalate if I didn’t shove the boy off me.

Which, I did.

“Raymond— inside,” I ordered with the little breath I had left.

He was confused for a second, almost like he’d blacked out in the meantime. But then his tongue swept over his lips, his hands digging through his pockets for his keys before he hastily answered, “Right. Let’s go.”

It made sense to be quiet then, as the two of us tip-toed through the much too large house. Our occasional giggles were louder than our feet, and the whole experience was seriously reminiscent of sneaking into your boyfriend’s house as a teenager. And when we walked through his bedroom door, the sight stirred up even older memories. From the UFO poster and alien sheets to the boxes filled with dinosaur toys and action figures, I felt like I’d walked straight through a time machine into Raymond’s childhood.

“Sorry about… all of this,” he said with an overly apologetic tone, like this scene didn’t perfectly suit what I was planning. Like it wouldn’t be salt in the wound for Donald to see me fucking his son in the most juvenile room I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Ugh, it’s perfect. You are literally a man-child.”

I didn’t mean it as an insult, but his nervous shifting told me he took it that way. But when I kicked off my shoes and started to disrobe my outer layers, it was becoming obvious to him again just how serious I was about this whole thing.

“Sorry, but—“

“Stop saying sorry, Raymond.”

“Sorry,” he squeaked back, doing the exact thing I’d just told him not to do. I shot him a warning glance and watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in return. Then, still worrying the hem of his pajama shirt between his fingers, he looked away as he asked, “Are you sure you actually want to have sex with me?”

I was a little too busy at first to answer him. I was already rustling through the bedside table to find a condom that I was absolutely positive would be there. When I finally found it, I turned my attention back to the blushing boy.

“Why are you asking? Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes!” he answered with a clear excitement, only to lose it immediately. “But I would have wanted to have sex with you even if my dad wasn’t a pervert.”

“Awww, thanks,” I cooed with feigned sincerity. Raymond was still just pouting, though. I was learning more each second just how starved of affirmation this boy had been. But it wasn’t like I could just start praising him; the poor thing would have whiplash if I wasn’t careful. There was no worse mood-killer than crying, either, so I settled for a joke.

“I’d probably have sex with you, too.”

“Probably?” he responded with a smile and a seat next to me.

“It’s pretty likely, depending on how much we talked first,” I explained as I helped him out of his coat. I even managed to start undoing his pajama top buttons before he realized it was happening.

He didn’t stop me when he did.

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or not,” he said, instead.

With a coquettish grin, I leaned in to whisper against his lips, “And you never will.”

There was absolutely no resistance from Raymond when I grabbed hold of his collar, tugging him on top of me as I laid down on the tiny twin bed. Despite all of his insecurity, he didn’t hesitate to kiss me again, either. This time it was somehow even more heated, like he was trying to pour all of his heart into it.

I almost warned him that he had better cool it if he didn’t want to risk getting me hooked, but I was too late. He was already busy undoing the buttons on my own top and gently kneading my chest through the fabric of my bra, and I was quickly losing track of which of us was more into what was happening.

It didn’t really matter, but just in case he was still worried that I might not want to be there, I snuck my hand down and under the waistband of his pajamas.

“Fuck!” he cursed in a hushed whisper, his body buckling forward far enough that he almost dropped all his weight on me. It was so damn cute that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t be too loud or we’ll never get to the fun part,” I warned, my voice barely a whisper in his ear.

His very eloquent response was a breathless, “Shit.” I couldn’t blame him, though. It was honestly more than I expected him to be able to enunciate when I grabbed hold of his dick and began making soft strokes.

It was obvious that he was trying very hard to stay quiet, but the whimpers and whines were falling from his mouth so quickly that I was forced to kiss him just to muffle the noise. Thankfully, Raymond took the hint that he needed to be quiet and decided to redirect the attention from himself back to me. He accomplished that task by pulling away from me just far enough that he could grab hold of my pants and underwear and roughly pull them down my thighs. The speed and force lit a fire deep in my gut, my whole body breaking out in goosebumps as I allowed myself to enjoy just how badly he wanted me. I’m sure the spite thing had a lot to do with it, too, but it had been a long time since a man was so clearly into me. It was an unavoidable conclusion in every touch from him.

A much-too-loud moan caught in my throat when he returned, slipping his fingers into my heat as he laid another feverish kiss against my lips. But it broke almost immediately with his own choked moan, followed by a low, breathy observation.

“You weren’t kidding about wanting this.”

“Nope,” I replied quickly, trying to control the noises coming out of my mouth by replacing them with words. It only sort of worked when I keened, “Fuck, you’re better at this than I thought.”

Raymond didn’t even stop, continuing to curl his fingers inside of me with each thrust. He did smile, though. A cheeky, borderline annoying smile that told me he knew what a bastard he was being.

“Again, I can’t tell if that is a compliment,” he said with an overwhelming amount of sarcasm as he watched me squirm under him.

I chose to ignore the taunt, opting to grab the condom from the bedside table and throw it directly at his face instead. “Put the fucking condom on, Raymond.”

There was less commentary from the peanut gallery from that point on. I did enjoy the show, though. As I removed my bra, I watched with rapt fascination as he stripped himself of his clothes. My desire grew at an exponential rate at the sight of him slipping the condom on. I’d gotten some idea of the size of him with my hand, but to see something so lewd in such an innocent room and on his shy little figure was something else.

Raymond shrunk a little under my gaze, only regaining his confidence when he saw the way my teeth dragged over my bottom lip. I ran my hands over my body that was still on display for him, thoroughly enjoying the way I could make his eyes go wherever I wanted with such a simple motion.

“Fuck me, Raymond.”

I heard his breath catch and watched the shiver flow through him at the order. Sure enough, he started to follow my instructions and lined himself up at my entrance with adorably shaky hands. But then, right before I got what I came for, he paused.

“Are you su—“

I was tired of waiting. Hooking my leg around his waist, I forced Raymond to thrust forward. My assistance didn’t take any of the pleasure out of it when he was finally, fully inside of me. I couldn’t stop the way my back arched, pressing my chest against his with a wanton cry.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled into my hair, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he adjusted to the new set of sensations.

I only gave him a few seconds to get used to it, fully ready to get the release that already felt so close.

“Fuck me,” I whined, already starting to roll my hips against the boy blubbering curses into my skin.

“O-Okay,” he muttered in the most adorable fashion.

That shyness was contrasted strongly by what followed. For all his whimpers and trembling, Raymond didn’t seem to mind the way the bed would creak under us. In fact, it seemed that he was playing his own game, trying to elicit as many noises from me as he could get from the bed.

On instinct, my hands rose to try to still the headboard. But to my surprise, they never made it. The man above me had grabbed hold of one wrist, pinning it against the pillow to stop me. That simple, thoughtful act was enough to almost send me over the edge right then, but I held on for what I knew would come.

My moans were another story. They seemed so inevitable, with Raymond slamming into me with a progressively rougher force until I rode that line between pain and pleasure. I could see it on his face, too, that we were barreling full speed to the inevitable.

So, it was as good a time as any for me to set the next step in motion. With full volume and a pitch nearly an octave higher than usual, I screamed, “Yes, Raymond!”

That cheeky little bastard laughed. That noise was such music to my ears, that I couldn’t just stop there.

“God, yes! Fuck me harder!” I cried dramatically while drawing out the words. In a way, I was over exaggerating for effect, but I was also actually having a great time. In fact, it was the best sex I’d had in a long time.

Raymond, catching on to the plan that I’d never explicitly explained, joined in with his own chant of my name, mixed with deep moans rumbling in his chest. I ran my nails down his back, seeking to elicit the higher pitched sounds I knew he was capable of when I realized just how much fun I was having with him.

It was also, of course, super fucking hot. But how often do you get to have this much fun with a random one night stand you found at the bar? Not often enough, I decided.

“Please, Raymond! Harder!” I begged, both in accordance with my previous moans and also because it was what I needed.

I couldn’t decide on a word to describe that wild look on his face, but Raymond had no problem following through with my request. Releasing my wrist, he sat up on his knees, grabbing hold of my hips and lifting them so that he could come down between them at a new angle.

That angle, it seemed, left him bottoming out inside of me with each brutal thrust. My legs were actually shaking around him, my back barely touching the bed as I threw my head back on that damn alien pillowcase.

The clacking of the headboard against the plaster shook the hung UFO picture, which ended up clattering behind it with about as much grace and subtlety as Raymond and I shared in that moment.

But that crashing also masked the sound of the door slamming open, just as I’d been waiting for. And for a long moment, neither of us even looked over to the light filtering in from the hallway. Instead, we locked eyes with each other as the two of us simultaneously reached our peak.

I was so, so glad that I didn’t look away. I kept my eyes firmly on Raymond as he threw his head back, forcing himself as deep in me as he could and holding me against him as I nursed him through his orgasm with my own. His mouth, though dropped open, was curved in a satisfied smile, one last moan tearing through the two of us before he promptly collapsed on top of me.

Then, it finally came. Donald’s voice bellowing, “What the fuck is going on in here?!”

—

As Raymond and I sat in my car that night, there was a much more relaxed atmosphere. Whether the catharsis was from the sex or the big fuck you to his father, the two of us were just basking in the afterglow of the overall experience.

Of course, he was also laughing at the fact I was currently wrapped up in his alien bedsheet.

“We could’ve gotten your clothes, you know.”

“There was no way in hell I was going to drop this sheet in front of that man,” I said through my laughter, my mind replaying the chaos of the last few minutes over again in my head.

“Probably a good call,” Raymond answered.

But then another thought occurred to me, which caused my face to contort into a disgusted grimace.

“You’d better go get my underwear and bra later, though. He cannot keep those.”

“Will do. Promise,” he said with a little nod that ended with him staring at me with an absolutely smitten look plastered on his face.

“You can keep them, though,” I offered, reaching over and pretending like I could actually fix the birds nest on his head.

“Thanks. I’m flattered,” he said while chasing after my hand that eventually settled on his cheek. His face was still flushed, his eyes still only half opened as he nearly fell asleep against my palm. I wondered if it was from the orgasm, or if it was just the first time in a while he’d felt safe enough to do it. He must’ve seen the worry in my eyes, because he interrupted the thought with another question.

“Did you accomplish your goal?”

I thought about it for a second, dragging my fingers down his face before I pulled back with a sigh. “I feel satisfied,” I decided. “What about you?”

Raymond also took the chance to think about it before he nodded with more enthusiasm than before.

“I feel pretty good,” he said proudly.

“That’s all? Just pretty good?” I replied with an annoyed click of my tongue. I mean, I was wrapped in his bedsheets after just helping him achieve one of the most satisfying catharses of his life, and all he had to say was ‘pretty good?’

But then I saw it, that little sparkle in his eyes that showed me he just wanted to rile me up before he gave his real answer.

“It was fucking glorious.”

It wasn’t even the words that filled my heart with pride, but the way his whole expression softened as he said it. He obviously meant it with every fiber of his being, and I couldn’t help but fall in love a little bit at the sight.

“Sorry I got you kicked out,” I said to distract myself from that dangerous line of thought.

“Not the first time. Hopefully the last,” he nonchalantly shrugged as I turned the key in the ignition. We hadn’t actually planned on what to do from this point, but I certainly had some ideas.

“You can stay at my place,” I slurred through my exhaustion, “I have a guest bedroom if you feel weird staying in mine.”

But Raymond didn’t answer. He just laughed, shaking his head and rubbing a heavy hand over his tired eyes.

“What?” I asked, a little worried I’d made a mistake.

“Nothing,” he reassured with that stupid fucking grin that was soon aimed straight at me, “it’s just… You’re asking me if I want to sleep with you. Again.”

“Yeah, what about it?” I laughed, turning to pull out of the driveway. The bumps didn’t bother Raymond that time.

“I’d love to,” he said as we turned onto the main road, his hand finding mine on the gear shift.

“Great.” Allowing the relief to flow through his hand and into me, I realized that the reason I’d had so much fun with this random one night stand was because a large part of me knew it was never going to be just that.

“You know, my bed’s not a twin, and it doesn’t creak, so…” I trailed off, hoping that he would be clever enough to put it together.

“So what?”

He was not. But that was okay, because I realized that was exactly what I loved about him.

“Never mind,” I sighed, “I’ll show you in the morning.”

——————————————————

(Tell me what you thought of this piece here!)

#raymond wadsworth #suburban gothic #suburban gothic fanfic #mgg fanfiction #mgg fanfic #matthew gray gubler fanfic #raymond wadsworth fanfic #raymond wadsworth fanfiction

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thunder-at-dawn · 3 years ago

Text

Echos In The Caverns

word count: 2,096

summary: while exploring, tubbo made an incredible discovery, and was desperate to show his best friend in grand-tubbo-fashion! however, that was just the one thing that led them to discover a large problem.

if you couldn’t tell, this fic was heavily inspired by the minecraft caves and cliffs update, i think it turned out nicely :D also if you tag this as ship i will personally hunt you down and whack you with my block button

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

Tubbo_: TOMMY

Tubbo_: TOMMY ARE YOU THERE

Tommyinnit: what

Tubbo_: wheree are u

Tommyinnit: i’m at my house

Tommyinnit: why

Tubbo_: can yoyou come to your hotel

Tubbo_: and wear clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty!!!!!

Tommyinnit: why??

Tubbo_: you’ll see!!!

…What?

Tommy always knew that Tubbo tended to be quite the… holder of schemes. Good schemes? Maybe. Bad schemes? Also maybe. It really just depended on the day. It wasn’t irregular of him to not say what his plans were either, the young boy was often one for surprises.

Tommy looked down at the clothes he was currently wearing. A red and white baseball shirt and some khakis, also known as what he wore pretty much everyday. He had plenty of other shirts and pants that looked similar, (if not, the exact same) so it would be fine if he got just one outfit a little wet.

The young boy headed out of his small residence, which wasn’t at all far from the hotel at all. He walked down the prime path, entering the gate and heading for the front of the hotel, only to see no one there.

“Tubbo? Where are ya, bee boy?” He mumbled under his breath, looking for his best friend. He wandered around to the back… maybe he was there?

And there he was.

Tubbo had his back turned, placing a line of redstone dust along the ground. He stood up, wiping the dust off of his hands, then turned around with a grin.

“Tommy!!” He ran over to his best friend, engulfing the other in a tight hug.

“Tubbo! You’re gonna get fuckin’ redstone dust all over me.” He grumbled, though a smile was on his face. He could feel Tubbo take his hands, guiding him over and walking the two of them next to a lever that wasn’t there the last time Tommy was here.

“Okay, so earlier, I decided to dig straight down, right at this spot.”

“Idiot.” Tommy poked fun at his best friend.

“I thought it would be a bad idea too, but let me finish. Anyways, I just wanted to do it because, y’know, I wanted to see where it would take me! And man, I discovered something incredible, Tommy.” Tubbo turned around leaning down a flipping the switch of the lever.

“So that’s what you’re going to be showing me, right?” Tommy crossed his arms.

“Mhm!” The older of the two stood back up, looking at Tommy with excitement in his eyes. “Just be sure to be prepared for the drop!”

“…The drop? Wh-”

Before Tommy could finish, he heard the sound of pistons and felt the ground disappear underneath him. Before he knew it, the two of them were falling. It was pitch black, and the two of them were falling and screaming. They let out two different screams, Tubbo’s out of thrill and adrenaline and Tommy’s out of pure fear.

It took about ten seconds of falling and screaming for them to finally see light, but Tommy was too terrified to open his eyes. Instead, he was met with the chilling feeling of cold water. Panicked, he opened his eyes as much as he could and swam to the surface, gasping for air.

“TUBBO! WHAT THE FUCK?!” He yelled at the other, who had also risen from the surface. “What the fuck was that for?! You can’t just make us drop like that with no warning, I thought we were gonna die! I-“

“Oh, quit whining and swim to the shore!” Tubbo brushed him off. Tommy huffed, but obeyed, throwing his arms in front of him to propel him forward. Tubbo got to the shore first, and pulled him out of the water.

“Tubbo, why the fuck did you think that was a good idea?!”

“Tommy- Tommy, calm down. One, I would never kill you on purpose. And two, this was the easiest and quickest way down! Anyways, look behind you. Turn around.” Tubbo said to him. Tommy rolled his eyes and turned, expecting nothing grand, but his eyes widened in shock.

It was the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

A roaring waterfall poured water into the lake they had just dropped into, and sides of the waterfall were lined with purple gemstones. Ores lined the stone walls and lush moss covered the ceiling, draping down. Small, jagged rocks on the ceiling were covered by moss, and it looked like someone, likely Tubbo, had placed torches and lanterns around the area.

“What… What is this?” Tommy asked, jaw agape.

“What you’re looking at is the coolest cave the two of us will ever lay eyes upon.” Tubbo grinned, placing a hand on Tommy’s wet shoulder.

“…Holy shit, Tubbo! This is fucking incredible! A-And you found this just through digging down?!”

“Yep! Now come on, there’s tons of cool things here that you gotta see!” The ram hybrid grabbed Tommy’s hand, running around the lake and dragging him along.

Tommy honestly wasn’t sure if he had ever seen anything this amazing before. He got to climb hills of stone and ore, swim in the grand lake, and he and Tubbo even found an axolotl! They took it in a bucket with water, and since it was pink, they agreed on the name of “Technoblade Jr.”

Eventually though, all good things had to come to an end. The torches wouldn’t fend off monsters forever, so the two of them decided it was best to go back to the surface. Tubbo said that he had dug out a staircase through the stone that led to the surface, somewhere near Eret’s castle.

There was only one small problem. They couldn’t find it.

“I-It should be this way!”

“Tubbo, we’ve been down here for, like- for fuckin’ ever!”

“Okay, we’ve been here for a few hours at the most. And majority of that isn’t even us searching for the stairs.” Tubbo rolled his eyes.

Tommy sighed as he and Tubbo only found another dead end, a wall covered in vines and moss. “Face it, Tubbo. We’re lost. We’re fuckin’ lost, and we’re going to have to spend the night here.” He set a torch on the wall, taking a moment to sit down.

“Oh, don’t say that, Tommy!” His friend sat down next to him on the ground. Tommy crossed his arms, looking away and making Tubbo frown. “Look, we can always make a new staircase! It’ll take a while, but we can do it!” He nudged Tommy lightly with his elbow, but only got more of the silent treatment.

Tubbo huffed in annoyance. Tommy tended to get silent when things didn’t go his way, which was understandable. But it would get frustrating to Tubbo sometimes, he wouldn’t lie. And what’s worse was that he could clearly tell that Tommy was upset, and he wasn’t saying anything about it. He lightly leaned against Tommy’s shoulder, the silence being oddly comforting for a moment.

Tubbo stood up, leaving Tommy to mope by himself. He had to admit, this was a cool place to be lost in. The sights were incredible, and there were so many things he hadn’t found in caves before. Glowing squids, axolotls, crystals, cave vines…

Cave vines.

That’s it! He knew exactly what would cheer Tommy up! Why didn’t he think of this sooner?

Tubbo walked towards the longest vine he could find that draped from the stone ceiling, standing on his toes to pull it down and grinning as the vine snapped in two. He threaded the vine through his fingers, glad to find that it wasn’t rough and didn’t have anything sharp on it. He sat down next to Tommy, holding the vine in his hands.

“Tommy…” He leaned towards his friend, still not getting a response. Quietly, he draped the vine around Tommy’s neck. The other noticed, but said nothing. That is, not until his shoulders scrunched up when he felt Tubbo pull the vine across his neck.

“Tubbo-” He said softly, slamming his lips shut afterwards.

“What’s up, Tommy?” He asked, lightly scratching the other’s neck with his fingers.

“Where’s that smile, big man?” Tubbo used his other hand to poke his friend in the side a couple of times, grinning as he saw a smile start to form at the corner of Tommy’s lips.

“Tuhubbo, quihit it!” He giggled, starting to move away before Tubbo wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close, trapping him in a half-hug.

“There we go!” Tubbo scribbled his fingers across Tommy’s stomach, making the young boy squeal and bury his head into Tubbo’s shoulder as an attempt to hide his face. Tommy laughed, trying to grab at Tubbo’s hands.

“Don’t even try to fight back, mister.” He rolled his eyes. “I wanna make sure that you keep smiling! These caves are no place to be sad!”

“TuHUHUB- *snrk* TUHUBBO! Dohohon’t!” Tommy snorted, eventually grabbing onto one of Tubbo’s wrists. Tubbo brought his other hand back to drill his fingers back into Tommy’s stomach, the other laughing and eventually grabbing onto Tubbo’s other wrist. Both of them grinned as residual laughter spilled out of Tommy’s mouth.

“You’re so fuckin’ mean.” Tommy huffed out, unable to fight a grin.

“Oh, come on, you were sad! What else am I supposed to do, not what I do whenever you’re sad?” Tubbo rolled his eyes, smirking. “Besides, you didn’t fight back. We know you liked it.”

Tommy blinked, feeling his cheeks warm up, then narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you’re asking for it.” He growled, holding the other’s hands above his head.

Tubbo squeaked, already starting to squirm. “Wahait, no! Nonono, dohon’t!” He said, unable to stop giggles from coming out from hiding.

“Aww, what’s wrong, Tubbo? Are you scared? Scared of just a little tiny bit of tickling?” Tommy smirked, holding his wrists firmly and letting go, shooting his hands into his friend’s underarms. Tubbo immediately broke, instantly leaning towards the ground to try and get away.

“NoHOHO- gehehehet oHOHOut of thehehere!” Tubbo giggled, twisting his body to try and push off Tommy’s hands.

“You did the exact same to me! It’s only natural to expect revenge!” Tommy scribbled more rapidly, grinning as the other squealed and started to kick his legs. “Wow, Tubbo. Sometimes, I honestly forget how fuckin’ ticklish you are. And then I rediscover it for myself, and I remember just how ballistic you go every time!”

“ShUHUT UHUhup, yohou dihiHIhick!” The ram hybrid yelled through giggles.

“Hey! Well that’s just rude now, isn’t it? Guess you need to learn a lesson, huh?” Tommy asked, chuckling as Tubbo rapidly shook his head. Tommy started to squeeze up and down his thighs, and the other squealed, throwing his head back and hugging himself.

“TOHOhoHOmMY!! NohohoHOHO!!”

“Oh, you brought this onto yourself, don’t even try to “Tommy, no” me!” Tommy played around, trying to see what would work back. Squeezing the back of Tubbo’s thighs made him squeak, squeezing rapidly up and down made him squeal, and raking nails up and down the inner thighs made him cackle.

“TOHOHOMMY!! PleheHEAHase, I- StohoHOhop!!” Tubbo rocked back and forth.

“Hmmm… alright.” Tommy said after a moment of thinking, drawing his hands back.

“Wahait, really?” A giggly Tubbo was quite surprised, starting to sit up.

“…No.” Tommy smirked, suddenly pushing the other’s shirt up, leaning down, and blowing a raspberry on his bare stomach. Tubbo shrieked, retreating back to the ground instantaneously.

“NOHOHOHO- AHAHAHAHA!!! TOHOHOHOMMEHEY!!!” Tubbo squirmed around, trying to get away as Tommy now scribbled and clawed as his stomach with all ten fingers. His laughter echoed throughout the caves, filling Tommy with glee.

“Come on, you deserve this for all of the times you got back at me!” His friend grinned, leaning down to blow another raspberry right onto Tubbo’s belly button. The ram’s laughter went silent momentarily, then came back in the form of cackles with hiccups mixed in. Tommy stopped, laughing softly and ruffling Tubbo’s hair.

“You feeling better, big man?” Tubbo asked with a stupidly large grin on his face.

“Much better.” Tommy grinned, standing up and extending a hand towards his friend, helping him off of the ground. “Now, come on, grab your pickaxe. That staircase isn’t gonna build itself now, innit?”

Tubbo nodded, pulling out a pickaxe and starting to help Tommy dig out a path to the surface. He looked behind him one last time, deciding that he needed to come back here again sometime with Tommy, and maybe some other friends.

After all, it’s good to go back to places that bring you happy memories, right?

#dawn writes #lee!tubbo #ler!tommy #c!tubbo #c!tommy #dsmp tickle #they switch but i’m not tagging it because this was intended to only lee tubbo #anyways this should not have taken this long to write goodbye #🐝 tubbo: bee boy #💿 tommy: the hero

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something-tofightfor · 4 years ago

Text

Magnetic: Chapter 4 - Routine

Pairing: The Mandalorian x You (just getting to know each other. nothing serious.) (female reader insert; no ‘Y/N’)

Word count: 6,234

Rating: None necessary. Maybe some language? Mentions of canon-typical violence

Summary: Taking off from Nevarro and entering hyperspace for the first time with Mando and Grogu, you’ve got a lot to learn. Is the man going to welcome you onto the ship, or will it be much different than you imagine?

Author’s note:

Check out the earlier parts of this story by visiting my Masterlist

Thank you for coming back and reading! I hope you enjoy this one. It’s a lot more setup, but there are a couple very important conversations in here.

If you want to be added or removed from my tag list, please let me know!

(banner made by @malionnes)

The following day, Karga and Cara walked with the four of you back toward the ships, Grogu floating next to the Mandalorian. You caught Terys still giving the man looks every now and then, a blush rising in her cheeks when he spoke, even though you knew she was regretting her behavior from the previous night. It’s her own fault. She’s embarrassed, and he’s acting like nothing happened.

You knew in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter; Terys likely wouldn’t be your pilot when it came time to go back to the Academy, and she’d probably never see the Mandalorian again - unless she looked on purpose. I wonder how many women try to … and how many he takes up on it. You glanced over at the man as he walked, the beskar glinting in the early morning sun, and couldn’t help smiling. “So this is it, Mando.” Karga spoke as you stopped in front of a ship - something that looked to be a pre-empire gunship - and looked up at it, eyes narrowed. “Heading out with some help this time?” Terys continued walking, leaving your group behind, and Karga turned, his back to the ships and his eyes on the taller man in front of him. “Not like -”

“You act like this is the first time he’s taken off from Nevarro with the kid, Karga.” Cara’s arms were crossed over her chest and she eyed you before she looked at him, lips twitching into a smirk. She said your name and you swiveled your head, waiting. “Don’t let him or the kid lie to you, he flies much better when there’s someone with more than three fingers in the co-pilot’s seat.” You caught Grogu’s thoughts at that, a loud “hey!”, and immediately began to laugh, one hand rising to cover your face. “What’s he thinking?”

“He’s a little upset, Cara.” You raised an eyebrow, seeing the look on Grogu’s face, his tiny teeth bared and eyes screwed almost shut. “He -” You laughed again, even as the gangway of the ship began to lower, the Mandalorian pressing buttons at his wrist. “I think he believes that he’s the best co-pilot that this ship has ever seen.” You heard a noise that could have been considered a snort from the Mandalorian’s modulator, but he didn’t say anything else, even though Cara and Karga joined you in quiet laughter. That’s good to know. I made him laugh. “Let me say goodbye to Terys, and and make sure I didn’t forget anything. Then …” You took a breath. “Then I’m ready.”

“Five minutes.” The Mandalorian spoke directly to you, and with a single nod you turned away, headed back to the ship you’d flown to Nevarro on. It was quiet in the hold, and you knew that she was in the cockpit, prepping for takeoff. Quick goodbye, a quick thank you, and a …

“I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?” You heard her voice as you stepped through the doorway, the woman busy flipping switches on the console. “I threw myself at -” Yeah, you did.

“No.” You leaned against the seat, watching her. “You just had a few too many after a couple days in hyperspace, and you … it happens. I’m sure he’s dealt with it before, and you … you won’t be the last, but I wouldn’t …” You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m sure I’ll say something really stupid to him while I’m on board, so there’s that to look forward to…” I do always end up running my mouth.

“Doesn’t help.” But she finally laughed, rubbing a hand over her face. “The ale here is strong, so I …” If that makes you feel better. “Take care of that kid, alright? I don’t know him well, but this is a pretty … this isn’t a small thing, and I know …” She looked over at you. “He could be the future.” I know. So do Luke and all of the … “You’re supposed to check in every few weeks, unless something goes wrong. You know how to send the -” We’ve gone over this.

“Encrypted if possible, yes. Not from our… his ship, and only right before we leave one planet for the next, unless there’s an emergency. There’s…. There’s no current threat, but we can’t be too careful.” Not with Grogu. Not with Mando. Not with a … “Thank you, Terys. For getting us here. For getting him back to his family.” The woman waved you off with one hand, but you saw that she was smiling, too.

“Yeah, yeah.” She took a deep breath. “Hope you have better luck with him than I did.” What does that mean? “It’d be a pretty long couple months if he only says ten words to you.” You laughed at that, agreeing, and then pushed away from the seat, turning toward the cockpit doorway. “Take care of yourself.” You murmured the same to her and stepped out of the room, back toward the lowered ramp. With one final look around the hold, you set your shoulders and nodded to the empty room. Alright, I guess it’s time to go.

Karga and Cara were gone, and it only took you a few steps to reach the Mandalorian’s ship, your feet light on the ramp as you climbed it. The cargo hold wasn’t quite spacious, but it was larger than the ship you’d flown in on, and it had two levels. Where you at, kid? Up. You lowered your bag to the floor and then climbed the ladder to the cockpit entrance, seeing that Mando was already seated, Grogu in one of the extra chairs. Pretty far back for a copilot, but… “Hey, pal.” You swiped at the top of his head with one hand, lowering yourself onto the other seat, but before you got comfortable, Grogu was climbing down from where he sat and toddling toward you. “No, kid, co-” But you bent down to grab him nonetheless, shifting him into one arm while you buckled up. “Sorry that took so long, I -” The ship. The ship.

Grogu struggled in your arm, twisting his head to look up at you and whining quietly, paying no attention to your frown. Calm down. “What’s he saying?” You were still at least a few minutes from taking off, and he turned his head toward the two of you. “If he’s -” Different. Different ship. Not home. You stared down at him, blinking. What? Do you want me to say that? Yes.

Gritting your teeth, you closed your eyes. “He… he says it’s different. The ship.” Not home. “He says it’s not home.” You winced as the words came out, but the Mandalorian didn’t even move. “I don’t know what that means, I’m -”

“It’s not the same ship.” Huh? He spoke quietly. “I … he wouldn’t have …” The Mandalorian’s head lowered briefly and then he pressed another button before you heard the ramp closing, the cockpit doors sliding shut. “Let’s get out of here, and then I’ll explain.” You tightened your hold on Grogu, eyes on the window in front of you. I don’t know what any of this means.

It only took seconds for you to feel the gentle vibration of the ship beneath you as you lifted off from the surface of the planet. Calming slightly, Grogu cooed in your lap as he watched the Mandalorian. The man’s gloved fingers wrapped around the shifter, his other hand firmly on the knob to his left as he faced forward. It was different than being in the cockpit with Terys; you could tell the man was comfortable in his ship, like he’d been flying in it for years - even though, according to him, it was new to him.

You left the atmosphere of Nevarro, and instead of setting a course for one of the puck destinations, he set the ship to drift, fingers tightening around the controls. “The kid… Grogu is right. This isn’t the same ship he was last in.” Why?

“He asked why.” You spoke quietly, feeling Grogu’s tension, his entire weight settled against your side. “He’s -”

“The day that he got … that he reached out to the Jedi on Tython, Moff Gideon, he …” The Mandalorian turned toward you and Grogu, finally reaching out for the kid. “He blew it up, pal. It’s gone.” The cooing turned into a low whine, and as you transferred his weight to the man’s hands, you felt your heart beating faster. Oh, no. The Mandalorian looked down at Grogu, whose eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. “Had to come get you with some new friends on a different ship, and it took me a while to find another one like this.” His helmet tilted up and toward you. “It’s the same design. Same … era, same ship, but it’s not the Crest.” He cleared his throat. “Nothing ever will be, but at least it’s familiar.” Sorry.

“He apologized.” You whispered the words, fingers curling into tight fists as you felt the tension in the room rise. “I think he’s sorry for -” The Mandalorian moved quickly, lifting Grogu and tucking him against the beskar on his chest.

“No. No, no, no, pal. Don’t be sorry.” He hugged Grogu tightly, head ducking all the way down. “Lost almost everything - weapons, supplies, ammo… I’m just glad we weren’t on it.” He shifted, using his free hand to reach down and into a pouch on his belt, and when he brought it back up, you saw something round and metal held between his fingers. “Not all gone, though. I k-” Both of the kid’s hands reached up, fingers grabbing for the object. It’s the thing I saw in his memories, the thing he dreams about. “Whoa, kid, it -” Ball! As soon as it was in his hands, Grogu turned toward you, holding it up proudly between his fingers. Mine!

“He showed that to me a lot, Mando. In his thoughts, and even in his … in his dreams, too.”

“You can … see dreams?” He sounded curious and a little afraid, but he didn’t waste time, spinning away from you to settle Grogu down onto the third seat, and then facing you again. “Is that … are all Jedi -”

“No.” You closed your eyes. “Again, like I said to you before, I’m not a Jedi, but …” You lifted a hand and chewed on the tip of your thumb. “People use the Force differently, depending on …” How do I explain this? “It’s like you.” You licked your lips, leaning slightly closer to him. “You’re good at tracking - it’s a skill that you’ve improved over time, right?” He nodded once. “You can sense people, sense what they’ll do, and where they’ll be - how they’ll act, because you’ve been around different kinds of people enough to see the patterns.” Taking a breath, you glanced down at Grogu, who’d climbed from the seat back onto Mando’s lap, and then back up at the Mandalorian. “I know those things about other people after meeting them once, because I can focus in on what’s in their heads. I don’t need the patterns or the experience, I just need to concentrate. It’s nowhere near as useful as the Jedi and others that are one with the Force that can actually see the future, because I can’t do that. I just see now… or in the past, I guess. And it helps me to predict how people will act in the future, or to know how I should act around them.”

“Then how did you see his dreams?” You bit your lip, thinking about how much to tell him, and decided to go with as much as you knew. Why not?

“The kid’s really smart, and really strong. He’s …” You reached out, taking one of Grogu’s outstretched hands between your thumb and forefinger. “He’s very powerful, and he’s still learning to control it, which means he’s different than other people, other … beings.” I am? You nodded at him. You are. “So his dreams are more like thoughts because there’s so much power within him, and when he sleeps? He can’t control what he dreams.” You squeezed Grogu’s hand, then let it go. “I felt him. When he called to Master Skywalker? To Luke?” The Mandalorian barely moved, but you heard him take a quick breath. “Even from so far away, I felt him, and there was no reason for it to be that way. So I think we’re … connected somehow, but no one knows … why.” The cockpit was silent, and even Grogu looked down, returning his attention to the metal sphere. “Most, um, most Force … users?” You shrugged. “They speak to each other with thoughts. It’s a way to communicate without giving anything away, and it’s helpful in combat or in negotiations.” At that, the Mandalorian nodded multiple times. Of course he understands that. “But usually, those abilities come with others, too. Strength. Agility. The ability to move things, like he did with you and the mudhorn.”

“You know about that?” Your eyes moved to the Mandalorian’s shoulder, the signet on his pauldron gleaming in the low light and reminding you of their connection. “About how -”

“Yes.” Swallowing, you clasped your hands together. “He protected you for the first time that day. And it’s a good thing, because he …” Grogu had the ball near his mouth, paying no obvious attention to the two of you, even though you knew he was listening. “You needed each other.”

“We did. We do.” You watched as he tweaked the end of one large, green ear, his visor turning back to face forward. “Can you do that? Move things?” At his question, you froze.

“No,” you whispered. “And I won’t try.” Grogu’s whine surprised you, the child struggling in the arms that held him, twisting toward you. Won’t hurt anyone. “I -”

“Hey.” The Mandalorian loosened his hold on Grogu and then held him out toward your lap, letting him go only once he’d made his way onto your legs. “I didn’t mean to -”

“No, it’s fine.” You swallowed hard, letting out a shuddering breath. “You didn’t …” He didn’t know about my sister. He didn’t know about my … “I did that once, the first time I realized that I could … that something was …” You felt the tears rising in your eyes, Grogu pressing himself tightly against your body, cheek against your chest. “I ended up hurting someone, and so I … even at the Academy, I …” Raising your gaze to meet the visor, you didn’t bother trying to wipe your tears away. “That’s one of the reasons I ended my training. The fear that I couldn’t control it? It’s dangerous. Being too emotional is …”

“I understand.” It went quiet again, and though you thought that the Mandalorian was looking at you, you had no way of knowing for sure. Not dangerous. You looked down, seeing that Grogu was staring up at you, the ball in your lap and both of his hands gripping your shirt. Not to us. Us? Do you mean you and me, kid, or ...Your eyes flicked to the man in the pilot’s chair and then back down. You’ll see. His belief in you slightly comforting, you finally reached up, swiping beneath both eyes. Enough.

“So, Mando.” You tried to lighten the mood, settling back into your chair. “It looks like you don’t have to worry about me in your head or in your dreams. The kid and I have a connection, so that’s why I … plus, you’ve got that helmet on, so -”

“I sleep with it off.” The casual admission stunned you into silence, breath catching in your throat. “If it will make you more comfortable I -”

“This is your ship.” You felt your heartbeat hammering behind your ribs. “You can sleep however you -” Just the helmet, or all of the armor? I don’t know why I … You blinked furiously, glad he was looking away from you. “Don’t change your routine just for me, it isn’t -”

“I won’t.” There was a finality to the statement, but it wasn’t unkind. “And you shouldn’t either.” With that, he leaned forward and began pressing buttons with one hand, reaching into his pouch with the other. What does he mean? I don’t have a routine, I … He thumbed through the pucks, setting one onto the flat surface of the console and pushed a button, a pale blue glow reflecting off of the beskar he wore - and off of the glass in front of him. “We’ll start with most difficult one.”

You didn’t know why he was announcing his plans - if it was for his benefit or yours, or even Grogu’s, but you didn’t say anything, just watching as he moved. He do this before? Yes. You smiled, finally feeling your heart rate dropping back to normal. Good.

“It’s going to take a few days to get out to Ryloth, and then from there, we’ll head to…” You listened as the man spoke, but somehow knew that he didn’t want - or need - you to answer. He’s just … he’s happy to have someone here to listen. You looked down, watching Grogu as he continued to play with the ball, sitting on your lap and once again facing forward. Well, two someones.

---

In the days that followed, the three of you settled in to life on the ship, the Mandalorian calling it simply Razor II. Grogu still kept to a schedule as if he was at the Academy, the two of you taking time each day to continue practicing with his abilities, you keeping a log of what you did so that you had something to report back in each check-in.

Sometimes the Mandalorian watched, perched on a crate in the corner of the cargo hold, asking questions as you and Grogu worked together, getting involved himself when necessary. You had a sneaking suspicion that the kid got him involved on purpose a few times; forcing the items he was lifting and moving off in the man’s direction and faking fatigue instead of retrieving them himself, perking back up at the man’s numerous praises. When they would begin that, you gracefully bowed out, giving them time together and retreating to your sleeping quarters, which were on the top level of the ship. The Mandalorian - Mando, you reminded yourself each time - had explained that after finding the replacement ship, he’d made some adjustments to it and to the layout. He made it more comfortable. More of a … a home.

On the first night, while Grogu slept in his carriage in the corner of the cockpit, the man showed you around, pointing out the fresher and telling you you could leave your personal things there if you wanted, showed you the weapons locker, a small, deep compartment that he’d said had been the sleeping quarters on the Razor Crest. It was filled nearly from top to bottom with a stockpile of weapons that you’d never even imagined before; guns and ammo, rockets, spare fuel for his jetpack - there were even canisters of gas packed neatly into crates; the charge for his blaster and pulse rifle.

The Mandalorian spent a great deal of time showing you the weapons and explaining how they worked, voice catching as he touched the stock of the longest gun in the space, explaining that of all the things he’d lost when Moff Gideon blew up his original ship, that specific weapon had been the most difficult to replace, since it had been passed down from another Mandalorian, not simply bought. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was sentimental about it. You couldn’t help the small smile as he talked about the need for such an armory - his words weapons are a part of my religion echoing in your ears, even as he closed and locked the door.

His bunk was against the wall between the where the weapons locker and the fresher were, and where the carbonite system near the back of the ship was located; a tiny, narrow cot that could be folded up and out of the way when he wasn’t using it. That would be better off for me. He’s way too big for it. You’d wondered where Grogu would sleep, but before asking, your eyes fell on a large cubby just above the man’s pillow. It was essentially a blanket nest, and you knew the kid would love it, especially since it meant that when he opened his eyes, he’d see the man sleeping right in front of him. Good. Perfect.

The last thing he’d shown you was where you’d be sleeping, and it was on the second level - a larger space just in front of the short hallway that led to both the escape pod and the ship’s reactor. The bed was small - larger and wider than the cot, but definitely not huge, though it looked comfortable. That room was the actual sleeping quarters, and you knew it, but before you could raise that point, Mando had cut you off, both arms crossed over his chest, one shoulder leaning against the doorway.

“I thought you’d want some privacy. I don’t usually have women on the ship with me, except Cara, and she’s … she’s used to sleeping in uncomfortable places, so it’s never bothered her.” Not wanting to offend him, you’d just thanked the man, setting your bag down on the mattress and looking around. “It gets loud sometimes, especially during takeoff and landing, but I wouldn’t do either of those things if I knew you were sleeping here, unless it was an emergency.”

He was considerate, despite his no-nonsense reputation and his penchant for silence, and as the days passed, you became comfortable with him. He’d called the bounty on Ryloth the most difficult, but it still took him less than a day after you landed to bring his prisoner back, the man roughly forcing a Twi’lek he’d caught in Nabat through the ship’s door and directly into the carbonite chamber without a word to either you or Grogu.

Instead of taking a break, he immediately plotted a course for your next destination - Cadevine, and then to the next after that, a nondescript place called Kothlis. He’d collected three of the five bounties in just over a week and a half, sleeping in short shifts as you traveled between locations.

You spent time with Grogu, wrote in your journal, and spoke to the Mandalorian whenever possible, but true to your word, you kept out of his way as much as you could. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to talk to him; you just didn’t want to talk too much. It wasn’t what you were used to - the isolation, the quiet - but you couldn’t complain, because it gave you plenty of time to think.

Grogu spent his time sleeping near Mando as expected and you’d been right about that too, the child not once attempting to sneak into your room, even though you could still sometimes hear his thoughts, catching flashes of his dreams. You were happy for him. He seemed more focused than he’d been at the Academy, but when it was the three of you in the same room - cargo hold or cockpit - you were constantly answering questions for Mando, acting as the mediator between him and Grogu. That was when the man was more talkative, never hesitating to ask you to intervene and include yourself in the conversation.

They communicated fine without you - they had for the time they’d been together before, but you being there changed things, giving them an easier method for speaking to each other, even though it tired you out after a while. On the way between the third and fourth bounties - a four day trip to Neimoidia - you waited until Grogu had fallen asleep before returning to the cockpit, where Mando was leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. He’s sleeping. I - “I’m awake.” It surprised you, but you took the admission as an invitation, entering the room and taking a seat in the chair Grogu typically sat in, the one closer to the man. “I heard you coming up the ladder.”

“The kid’s asleep.” You sighed, eyes on the window ahead of you. “He was a handful today.”

“He was.” I don’t know what I… “It’s hard, on the ship to -”

“Maybe after Neimoidia, Mando? We could stop for a day or so, and land somewhere. There’s so much I’m sure he wants to show you that he can’t do on the ship.” Your words were met with silence, but you continued. That’s a good sign. “I don’t know that sector well, but there must be a safe planet where landing won’t attract too much attention. We can stay near the ship, but … open space. Fresh air. Time for the two of you -”

“Where will you be?” He turned his chair to face you, arms dropping and his hands resting on his thighs. “If Grogu and I are -” I … “You’re not here to babysit him, you know. You’re here with him, and …”

“Bari … My fr…” You swallowed. “Someone at the Academy said that that’s what I’d be doing here, with him. Acting as a nurse droid, basically, but it’s never …” You looked up, lips pressed together. “I’ve never felt like that’s what I was doing with him. You know how he is - he looks helpless, but he isn’t. He can get his own food if he’s not on the ship or stuck in a building, he can protect himself when it matters most, and he’s smart.” You laughed. “Well, most of the time. I mean he’s -”

“When we were together before?” The Mandalorian shifted in his chair, his armor clinking softly as the edges of the plates on his thigh and chest met. “He’d help me around the ship sometimes. Tried to do some electrical work with him once, but it -”

“Mando!” You were laughing, one hand reaching up to cover your mouth. “He’s just a kid, he can’t - “

“No, he couldn’t.” You heard him clear his throat. Did he just tell me something … funny? “But you’re right. Grogu’s … capable. And after spending time with you and the Jedi, he seems …” Trailing off, the man cocked his head to the side. “More.” You understood without him going into detail. He is. I’m glad you see it.

“We don’t know much about how he ages, because there are only two other confirmed … well, sort of confirmed beings like him, and they’re both gone now, but the best we can tell…” You leaned in, using your hand to prop your chin up, elbow resting on the console next to your chair. “In some ways, he’s like a five or six year old child. But in others?” You shook your head. “He’s seen and done so much. Survived so much, and he understands way more than…”

“Do you know more about what happened to him? Before?”

“No.” Your answer was fast - almost too fast, and you saw the way that the man stiffened. “No, and every time anyone tries to ...see? Or to ask? It… it isn’t …” You lowered your head. “He doesn’t even think about it. I think he’s blocked it out, because even when I tried to …”

“They asked you?” He sounded surprised, the stiffness leaving his body. “To look -” I didn’t think I’d have to tell this story so soon, but …

“Yeah.” You rubbed at your lower lip with one finger. “Like I said, for some reason, he and I get along better than … they thought that I’d be…” You thought back to the day you’d tried to access the memories in Grogu’s head, the way he’d actively worked to keep you from seeing anything, despite your persistence, the way it felt when your back hit the wall, limbs held in place with almost no effort on his part. “It was the only time he’s ever used his ability to … not hurt anyone, because he wasn’t trying to …”

“What did he do to you?” There was concern in the man’s voice, and you could feel it too, his posture changing as he moved to the edge of his chair. “Grogu. Did he -”

“He kept me out.” You shrugged. “Knocked the wind out of me, but I can’t blame him. He’s kept it to himself for so many years, and it was so soon after he came to the Academy. He was still missing you, he was still upset, he was still …” You took a deep breath. “In any other kid, I’d call it a temper tantrum, but with him? He was telling us no, absolutely not, and so … I never pushed again. I don’t know if the other Masters have, but I …”

“You care about him.” You nodded without pause, eyes focused on the t-shaped visor of the Mandalorian’s mask. “Even after -” Of course.

“He’s a kid, Mando. He doesn’t realize how strong he is, and back then he had no idea who to trust… I still don’t think he does, sometimes, to be honest, so how can I blame him?”

“I guess … You can’t.” Crossing your legs beneath you, you watched the stars for a few minutes. “Why haven’t you asked more about me?” Here we go. You had questions - hundreds of them - but didn’t know where to begin. “About the bounties, about my past, about my armor… or Mandalore?”

“Do you want me to?” Turning your head toward him, you narrowed your eyes. “I’ve heard you’re not … that you don’t talk much. Keeps things mysterious.” You tried to lighten the mood, but when he didn’t reply, you continued. “I guess… like I said on that first transmission, I’m at an unfair advantage, because there are things about you that I know that I’m sure a lot of people don’t, because of the kid.”

“Like what?” He was curious, but didn’t pry. Where to start? You flipped through the information you had, trying to pick out some of the more important things. See, Terys? I knew this would happen. “Your profession requires you to be brutal most of the time, but you’re always gentle with Grogu, so I think you … stars I can’t believe I’m going to say this to you.” Taking a deep breath, you locked your eyes on his visor again. “I think that’s one of the things you missed most when he was gone, getting to separate parts of your life like that.” He didn’t acknowledge your words, and you chose something much less pointed next. “I know that you believe in your creed, and would only even consider compromising it if it was absolutely worth it.” That got a small nod. “I know that you considered the Guild your clan at first, but didn’t hesitate to do what you needed to get Grogu to a Jedi once he … was yours.”

“That’s not true.” There was regret in his tone, even the modulator couldn’t hide it. “At first, yes. But by the time I … when I realized I’d have to say goodbye? I questioned it. I didn’t want to -”

“Well he was your family by then. Your … aliit.”

“You know Mando’a?” The regret turned to surprise. “There aren’t -”

“I know a few words. We have historical texts at the Academy, I’ve read some of them, but I can’t … I can’t speak it. I’m not fluent.”

“Neither can I.” There was a pause and then you heard him laugh, the sound short but infectious, and after a few seconds, you were laughing with him, the mood shifting. “I know more than you, but it’s … not many people are know it well. On Mandalore, there are more that can speak it, but …” He went silent, taking a deep breath, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall. “What else do you know about me?” Maybe this isn’t as disastrous as I thought it would be.

“I know how he sees you. I know what he feels about you. I know that your armor is a symbol of your success and your skill. I know that you didn’t want what happened on that light cruiser, but you’ve accepted it.” Licking your lips, you continued. “I know that this past year has probably been really damn hard for you, because he’s not my kid, and even the thought of having to say goodbye to him has kept me at the Academy for much longer than I would have stayed there otherwise.”

It was the first time you’d admitted it out loud in such clarity, and you clapped a hand over your mouth in surprise. I shouldn’t have said that. “You stayed… for him?”

“I did.” Your words quiet, you looked down at the console, focusing on the shifter in front of you. “Before he came? I was considering leaving, just because I wasn’t doing any good there. I wasn’t training, I didn’t have a Master, I couldn’t advance … and then he called out, and I… it made me reconsider. And here I am, a year later, on your ship with that kid.”

“Why don’t you call him by his name? After Ahsoka told me what it is, and I started using it...he changed. He seemed to like it.” Rubbing at your eyes, you swore under your breath.

“Asking all of the big questions tonight, aren’t you?” You rubbed the back of your neck. “Everyone else at the Academy calls him by his name. But one of the first memories I saw… well… heard was of you calling him “kid” and “pal” … and it just slipped out. I remember my sister had a nickname that she liked, too, and I thought that…”

“And it stuck.” You nodded, still focused on the control panel. “So you called him that because of … me?” I did. “I… knowing his name made it harder to let him go.” You had a feeling that the conversation was the most talkative that the man had been in months - if not longer - but even though the topic was difficult, you weren’t in any hurry for it to end.

“I slipped sometimes, and called him Grogu, and he… he didn’t like it much. I think he wanted to be reminded of you, even though you weren’t there. And I’m not you. I never will be, but I like to think that I made it easier for him to …” You searched for the word. “Adjust.”

“So what should I call him? Grogu? Kid? Pal?” He shifted in the chair, moving closer to you. “Can you ask him?”

“I don’t think it matters, Mando.” You lifted your eyes and turned toward him, the chair creaking softly beneath you. Hesitantly, you reached out, your hand hovering over his knee, but at the last second, you lost your nerve, pulling it back and settling it in your lap. “You’re his father. You can call him anything, and he’ll be happy about it because you’re doing it in person.” Why did you do that? You know he doesn’t like to be touched without permission, you shouldn’t have even … The cockpit was silent, and then the Mandalorian abruptly stood, causing you to take a surprised breath and straighten up in your chair. Oh, damn. I made him -

But before your thoughts ran away, you felt his hand settle in against your shoulder, his gloved fingers curling slightly. “What does he call me?” The weight of his hand on your shoulder was a shock, but you were determined to not let him know how much it affected you - or the way it made the way he was feeling that much easier to read. Just because I wasn’t expecting it, nothing else. “The kid, wh-”

“His father.” You saw his fingers flex out of the corner of your eye; the yellow material at the tips curling inward against the dark material of your shirt as his surprise and curiosity changed to anxiety. “Sometimes it’s Mando, but not … not often.” Why lie? “That’s how I… what I call you to him, too. His dad.” He squeezed your shoulder once more, fingers lingering and then the weight was gone, the cockpit doors opening. Oh, Maker. Frozen in your seat, you waited until they slid shut again to lean forward, resting your head on your forearms and taking deep breaths. I didn’t touch him, but he … it was just … what does that mean?

You took a few minutes to collect your thoughts and then stood, too. I should sleep. It’s late, and I don’t think he’ll come back unless… You exited the cockpit and paused at the top of the ladder, glancing down into the darkness. You couldn’t see, but heard the sound of water running in the fresher, your fingers gripping the metal railing tightly. Don’t.

But it was too late, your mind already focused on the cargo hold - and the only conscious mind present. Things were still mostly undefined, emotion the strongest takeaway, but just as you opened your eyes again, determined to go into the bedroom and get to sleep immediately, you caught one clear thought - your name.

---

Magnetic/Din Djarin Tag List:

@the-blind-assassin-12 @pheedraws @alraedesigns @malionnes @deceiverofgodss @thisisparadisemylove @siegfriedkingsglaive @valkblue @hehe-oof @jynrumbly @psychedelic-star

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ukaisprincesss · 4 years ago

Text

a/n: happy birthday to the one and only 😌

word count: 2.8k

semi-edited

———————————————————————

warnings: *inhales* 18+ smut, reader obsessed with dabi, quirk use, degradation, betrayal, oral m!recieving, name calling, dumification if you squint, dabi with a dick piercing, cursing, very minor blood mention, deep throating, slight violence, implied fighting, humiliation, smoking, inaccurate timeline, mind control kinda, choking, slightly insane reader, fingering, breeding kink if you squint

“Bye y/n! See you later for training!” Izuku waved at you with a grin on his face. You waved back before turning around and taking the route home. Your third year at UA was almost over, sometimes it felt like you were still a first year marveling at the wonders UA held for you.

Humming your favorite song Hero Too, you skipped along the sidewalk taking in the sounds and smells around you. This invoked a new melody inside you, your quirk taking over. You let out peals of notes inspired by your surroundings.

Your quirk, Melody, enabled you to use your surroundings and inspirations to create songs and tunes. You could use these tunes to overload the enemy with your inspiration. If you were inspired by a certain smell and the enemy heard you singing, that smell would invade your enemies scent overwhelmingly so. The same applies to their other 4 senses.

You always made sure no one was in range when you used your quirk to sing, you learned that the hard way as a kid.

Hmm, maybe you should stop and get something to eat. You only had a light lunch and still had a few hours before dinner. Deciding to get some Yakitori from a nearby stand, you changed direction and walked into town. The noises and smells were more harsh now, making it a bit difficult to not activate your quirk. Years of practice has helped you keep a hold on it, particularly when you’re in cities or at get togethers.

“Thanks!” you said to the woman working the stand, you handed over the respectable cost and searched for a good place to eat. Seeing a lone bench against a graffiti covered wall, you made your way toward it nibbling on your food. Before you could take your seat you were pulled backward and your vision went dark. A large hand covered your eyes.

“Guess who?” A husky voice spoke in your ear, cold staples brushed against your face sending a shiver up your spine. Your heart pounded in your chest as you let out a shaky breath. You kicked your lips before speaking. “Dabi...what are you doing here?”

Removing his hand you turned towards him, placing your hands on his chest. You stared into his icy eyes, the spark of emotion only present for you sent your heart soaring. He leaned down to press his lips against yours. Licking along your lips, he thrusted his tongue to entangle with yours. You let him take control, gripping his hair as you sunk into a lust filled haze. There was just something about Dabi that made you want to carry the world for him. You would do anything for him.

Dabi pulled away, you whined and leaned forward for more. He gripped your jaw, holding you in place. “You didn’t forget did you y/n?” He muttered, a frown on his face. You shook your head, smiling at him with adoration.

“Happy birthday baby, I was going to surprise you later but...it seems like you couldn’t stay away from me for too long.” You giggled and missed the flash of annoyance in his eyes. You thoroughly believed the villain was just as infatuated with you as you were him.

“Hm, yeah thank you. Anything new happen? When’s your next trip out of UA?” He questioned. What you didn’t realize was he was getting intel for the League of Villains. You thought he just wanted to know about your day and schedule. You were aware of the villainous role he played in the League of Villains, but that didn’t stop you from loving him. “Well, nothing yet but Mr.Aizawa won’t be here for the next few days. Izuku and I have some extra training tonight around 8 by the old wareh-”

You were cut off when Dabi pushed you to your knees, clearly hearing enough. “You know what to do y/n, I think it’s time for my birthday gift.” He looked down at you with a regal stare, effectively turning you on. Your pussy tingled as you rubbed your thighs together, eager to please the man you worshipped. You unbutton his pants and slide them down to land around his feet. His cock slapped your face, you were prepared as he usually went commando. You practically drooled at the sight, to you it was perfect. A large vein on the underside of his cock reaching the silver barbell that lay underneath his large mushroom head.

“What are you waiting for? Do your job slut.” Dabi looked down at you, teeth bared in irritation. You let out a purr of amusement and stroked his dick, pressing kitten licks along the head. Dabi huffed in annoyance, fisting your hair. “Stop teasing,” he muttered. You looked up with wide eyes, slowly taking his large cock into your mouth. No matter how many times you’ve sucked him off, you could never take his whole length by yourself. Relaxing your jaws as best as you could, you pushed your head forward and started to gag. You didn’t even have half of his cock in your mouth, you whined in disappointment and squeezed his thigh.

“God you’re fucking useless, I’ll have to get myself off as I always do.” Dabi growled and grabbed your head with both his hands, shoving his dick down your throat. You choked and gurgled, drool spilling out the sides of your mouth. The humiliation of not being able to please him hurt more than your mouth being stuffed with his cock. Maybe he didn’t mean it, maybe he just wasn’t in the mood. You were brought out of your head as the lack of oxygen kicked in. You struggled to keep your mouth around his cock, your mind telling you to pull back for air. No, you had to please him.

“You better not pull back whore, you’ll regret it.” Dabi gritted out, inhaling sharply. He threw his head back and let out a loud moan, not caring who could hear.

You willed yourself to hold out for a bit longer, but soon it was too much. You wrenched your head back with a gasp, breathing in heavy gulps of air. Tears trailed down your cheeks, you sniffed and looked up, taking his cock back into your mouth. Twirling your tongue around the head, right hand stroking the base of his cock and the other fondling his balls.

“Fuck y/n, that’s it, just like that. You suck my cock so good, my little cock sucker.” Dabi grinned, laying down more lewd words that went straight to your cunt. You could feel your juices slick your panties, your throbbing clit begging for attention. Hollowing your cheeks, you bobbed up and down his cock , his moans of pleasure spurring you on. Dabi came with a grunt, shoving his cock deep in your mouth, sending his seed down your throat. You swallowed as quick as you could, his large load burning your throat. He slowly pulled out, excess drool and cum covering his dick.

You sat up on shaky legs, the grit from the ground beneath you had dug into your knees and left small dots of blood and dirt marks. “Is it my turn now Dabi?” You asked excitedly, cunt throbbing at the thought of his long talented tongue.

He pulled up his pants and lit a cigarette with the tip of his finger. Dabi inhaled and let the nicotine run through him. He sure needed it after that. Turning to you, he blew it on your face, smirking as you let out a series of coughs.

“You know I hate when you do that.” You whined.

“Yeah, I know.” Dabi retaliated, taking another drag. “It’s time for you to leave, I have things to do.” He quickly brushed a scarred hand across your cheek and walked down the empty alley before you even had a chance to whine. You huffed angrily and dusted off your knees before grabbing your bag that fell in a suspiciously green puddle. It was upsetting having Dabi leave so soon, especially on his birthday. But if everything went right, you would see him soon again.

When you arrived home you took a shower and lounged around, waiting for the clock to hit 8. That was when you and Deku were going to train in a place where you could let your quirks out. You had to be in top shape for an upcoming infiltration mission. Your quirk was extremely useful in these situations, having only three limits. Whenever one of your senses were blocked, you couldn’t use that sense on other people. If your vocal cords are restricted in some way, then you wouldn’t be able to sing. Range being the last. If someone couldn’t hear you, your quirk didnt affect them.

It wasn’t long before your phone went off, alerting you that you had an hour before it was time to meet with your friend. You sat up and stretched, crumbs falling off your shirt from your snacks. Your mind drifted to Dabi again as you cleaned up the living area and put your costume on. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was acting a bit odd, did you really piss him off that much? Shaking that thought away, you made sure you had everything and took the short walk to your destination.

“Are you sure about this?” Shigaraki hissed, not trusting the young adult one bit. Dabi threw his head back in exasperation. “Come on now, you assigned me to her in the first place. She’s fucking dense and tells me everything. Are we going or not?” Dabi’s insult to you hid his true feelings well. For the most part he saw you as only a pawn in the grand scheme of things, something he would chuck aside when the time came. But he couldn’t deny that small twinge of attention you took from him that manifested into something bigger.

“Of course we’re going!” Shigaraki slammed his cracked fist on the bar counter. “I won’t get another opportunity like this any time soon. Gather everyone and let’s go.”

“Hey Izuku!” You jogged towards your friend who sat on a bench waiting for your arrival. His fluffy green hair reassuring you it was him. Hearing his name being called, he looked up from his book and greeted you. “Oh, hey y/n! You’re a bit early.” You nodded and laughed, standing in front of him. “I was just sitting around so I wanted to come quick and train. I want to try out that new strategy of yours.” Izuku nodded and stood up. The two of you stretched and began practicing some light moves.

You failed to notice the pair of turquoise eyes on you, beckoning you forward. Dabi turned to Shigaraki and said, “Have dark hole over there warp me behind y/n. She doesn’t see me.” Shigaraki stared at the boy before turning towards Kurogiri. Kurogiri stepped forward and warped a portal in front of Dabi.

“Step in,” he instructured.

Dabi stepped through, hands lit with blue flames.

y/n and Izuku had briefly stopped their training to catch their breath. If the villians had taken an extra moment to pay close attention, they would’ve caught y/n’s moving throat and the low pitched noise that met their ears. You were singing.

The moment Dabi warped behind you, before he could even reach out, heroes from all around struck upon the Shigaraki and the others. The unprepared villains bunkered in a nearby abandoned building desperately fell on the defense as the wave of heroes blocked their exits. Kurogiri was the first one secured.

“Well would you like at that?” Dabi hissed, the faintest sign of nerves present. “Time for us to leave sugar.” Sending a burst of flames to the green-haired boy who was racing around the two, Dabi secured his grip on you and raced away.

“Dabi over there!” You cried out, clutching his shoulders. You pointed to an old warehouse that was used for quirk experimentation back in the day. A large padlocked fence holed it in. He scaled the fence with ease and darted around the side. Vaulting through a broken window, he set you down and peered outside.

“Well y/n it seems like-” Dabi was hit with a wave of pure lust. He sniffed the air, what was that intoxicating smell? He turned around dazed, peering at you with hooded eyes.

“y/n no,” he garbled, stumbling towards you. He lifted up his hand, lighting a weak flame. Another wave of unbearable lust flashed over him. He groaned and fell to his knees.

You stalked forward and kneeled down next to Dabi. You didn’t need to sing anymore, your job was done. Sending the most intoxicating and sexual smells and sounds from yourself to Dabi’s sense, you had turned him into an insatiable sex machine.

“You’re probably feeling a bit betrayed right now.” You said in the most sensuous voice Dabi ever heard. “I only lied to you a bit though. I really am infatuated with you, just not in the way you think. Forgive me?” You pouted, hand under his chin to meet his eyes.

Dabi was too busy palming his cock to answer. A wicked grin spread across your face. “Ah, is my Dabi all hard? Do you want to fuck me one last time?” You questioned, fingers trailing down his torso.

“God y/n, please I cant help it. I need your tight cunt.” Dabi moaned, his cock pulsing in need to stuff your wet pussy. You chuckled and cooed at him. “Don’t worry baby, I’m all yours for the taking. Use me, fuck me with all the hate you have for me.”

Dabi growled and lashed out, pinning you beneath him. He rutted against you with breathless moans, hands on your throat. He squeezed tightly, cutting off your airway. You clawed at his hands, loosening them to laugh manically. Dabi burned several holes in your costume shredding it off you.

“Fuck,” he groaned out, staring at your soaking wet panties. “You’re still such a slut for me.” He pulled them aside not having the patience to take them off before stuffing two fingers into your cunt. You moaned and lifted your hips, his fingers scissoring deep inside you. Pressing his thumb against your clit, he rubbed in slow circles. You scrambled for a hold on the ground, back arching as you came. Your pussy quivered around his fingers, clutching onto them. He pulled them out with a drunk grin and sucked them into his mouth. “Your cunt is the tastiest thing I’ve ever had.” He moaned out, licking the sides of his fingers to collect every drop of your juices.

You sat up on your elbows with a dazed expression, watching him lick his fingers. It turned you on, leaving your cunt to drip on the concrete beneath you. Dabi grabbed your ankles and pulled you to him. Tearing his pants off in haste, he picked you up and sat you down on his cock with a heavy thrust.

“Oh fuck!” You both moaned out in sync, gripping onto each other. Dabi thrust into you unrelentingly, moaning out your name. “This tight cunt is mine y/n, all fucking mine. No one is going to take you from me.” He howled out, mind taken over by the smell and sight of you. He leaned forward taking your breast in his mouth. He sucked harshly, leaving your nipple swollen.

“D-dabi fuck!” You stuttered out. The stimulation of his fat cock in you and his lips on your nipple drove you to orgasm. Your cunt tightened around his dick, inciting a groan from him.

He grunted and wrapped a hand around your throat, holding you up with one arm and his cock. “That’s right slut, cum around my dick. Your pussy is so needy for me.” He thrusted deeply, hitting your cervix. Your eyes rolled back as you gurgled out a moan. He battered your cervix relentlessly, leaving you a pathetic drooling mess. Pressing you against the wall, he placed his hands by your head and fucked you at a new angle. The pleasure was unbearable, your mind swirled with nothing but Dabi’s continuous thrusts.

“I’m g-gonna cum y/n, fuck I’m gonna cum. Your pussy s’good.” Dabi was just as incoherent as you were, drunk on lust. Rooting himself deep in you, he groaned as his seed spurted against your womb. His eyes rolled back at the thought of breeding you, leaving you pregnant with his kids.

You were left quivering, his twitching cock triggering another orgasm. You gasped and clawed his back, biting your lip. Dabi pulled out his now soft cock, his piercing leaving a burning sensation against the walls of your battered pussy.

Dabi slumped to the floor, his vision spotting. You crawled towards him out of breath. “Happy Birthday Dabi,” you muttered, pressing a kiss against his lips. Dabi slipped into unconsciousness, not once waking up as he was taken away by the pro heroes to live an imprisoned life in solitude.

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #dabi x reader #dabi smut #dabi filth #dabi x y/n #dabi #fuck this killed me #happy birthday dabi #i need to get better at tags #mha smut

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anobscurename · 4 years ago

Text

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XI — masterlist

concept: a collection of happenings. the slowest of slow burns. there will be many more parts. an interview is misinterpreted, leading to some awkwardness.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 1,8k

warnings: angst

author's note: i used the name "lily" in slight reference to lily james (no hate to her) but if you, as the reader, is named lily, feel free to use any other name as hers.

There was something to be said about LAX. Status was practically inconsequential in airports. Everyone was either jetlagged or trying to make their flight in time, and everyone had to wait in neatly organized lines. Sure, some moved faster than others, but it was nice to see that everyone was built the same when it came to airports.

You stood, patiently waiting in the collection area of the arrivals. As patiently as you could, practically bouncing on your heels in anticipation. You didn't know why you were there, really.

Well, you knew. You were there to surprise him.

They had wrapped filming the day before, and he had shot you a quick be home soon :) text last night. But you had never picked him up before, instead opting to stay in the comfort of the apartment with Dodger curled up beside you and a batch of "welcome home" cupcakes cooling, waiting to be iced. He'd find his way back by himself just fine every time, so why the sudden change?

Maybe it was the interview you had caught the night before.

It wasn't as if you'd actively sought it – your friend had sent you a link to it in the early morning hours, followed by a barrage of messages that had your nightstand practically quaking from the vibrations of your phone. Knowing she wouldn't let you be until you checked it out, you squinted to see the bright screen before lowering the brightness enough to let your eyes adjust. Cursing the persistence of your friend, you huffed out a sigh and tapped on the link she had highlighted in numerous exclamation points and a slew of unintelligible yet highly suggestive emojis.

It was him. Chris. The flutter your heart gave at the sight of him was a natural occurence at this point, so it was easy to ignore.

Dodger, whose head was resting heavily on your feet, immediately perked up at the sound of Chris' voice the second the YouTube clip began to play.

It was a snippet from a Jimmy interview – Fallon or Kimmel, your brain was too sluggish to comprehend – uploaded fairly recently. If two months was recent in the grand scheme of things.

"Great to be here again, Jimmy," you heard Chris say as you rubbed the bleariness from your eyes.

"Always a pleasure." Fallon. It was Fallon.

Dodger came crawling up to you, nose sniffing the air, trying to console the sound of Chris' voice without the scent of Chris himself. His wet nose pressed into your cheek and you whined in slight annoyance, giving him a slight nudge. "Down, Dodge. It's just an interview. See?"

You turned the phone to show him, and his ears deflated in understanding. You hid a chuckle, pulling him to you for a cuddle, and he dejectedly flopped down onto your shoulder, curling up beside you. "Don't worry, Dodge," you mumbled, placing a small kiss to the top of the boxer's head. "He'll be home tomorrow."

Chris had been gone longer and longer in recent months. You had returned from Vegas in silence, before, once again, everything was back to false normality. What Anthony had said to you still stuck: he was in the profession of pretense. So you allowed him his pretense, even if it pained you at the prospect of having hurt him.

He had disappeared for a few weeks after Vegas, doing PR – this clip must've been from that junket. He returned for a day, before he had left to shoot his new film for the longest time yet: two months, and counting. Dodger was inconsolable, misery evident in the droop of his ears.

It was strange... Even while filming, Chris had never left Dodger for so long. But you supposed you'd been hired for a reason, and filming must've taken some form of toll on him. Enough to not visit his bud.

You turned your attention back to the interview that had been playing throughout your interaction with the pup and willed yourself to focus.

"–anybody you've had your eye on? Anyone new in your life?"

Chris chuckled, looking down and shuffling in his seat. The question was centered around any romance happening in his life, and by the blush that threatened to creep from his already reddening ears to across his cheeks, you knew that he had been caught.

Caught for what, exactly... The interview now had your full attention, exhaustion exiting your body to be replaced by butterflies that felt as though they were travelling through your very bloodstream.

"Oh, man," he smiled lopsidedly. "Where do I even begin?"

He was trying to avoid the question really, and honestly, you understood why. The rumours that would be spread, you could already see the tabloid headlines the next day. You had to remind yourself that this was an old interview.

"Well, according to our producers, the female viewership on the show skyrockets by 48% everytime you're on, so you need to give me something here. Before they come at me with pitchforks," Fallon laughed.

"Well, there is one. We're close, practically living together, but... I don't know. I don't want to risk it, in case, you know... It ruins things. And that's what she's scared of, which I understand. I just hope she gives it a chance. Fingers crossed."

There was a collective "awww" from the audience and the interview very quickly moved on to publicity for his most recent film, but the blood that was suddenly rushing in your ears drowned it out.

Your breath stuttered, your heart hammered in your chest. Your cheeks ached from the smile that seemed to be stuck there, the moment he had told Fallon.

Some part of you scolded you for thinking that Chris was speaking of you, but it was just too coincidental. What he had said, it applied, right? It was applicable to your situation. Directly. There was room for error, but that was practically minuscule. Dodger shifted in his sleep, almost to punctuate your point.

All rational thought of your previous fears disintegrated with that near absolute admission of his feelings.

You tapped on the icon for messages, and typed out a quick response to your friend so she'd know you'd checked it out. It was a non-committal response, neither denying nor fully accepting what she was implying.

On a whim, you checked the text chain you had with Chris. It wasn't a particularly thrilling text chain, very short and quick replies from when he had a free moment on set, interlaced with heart meltingly adorable pics you managed to grab of Dodger. But upon a quick scroll back, one message caught your eye, dating back a week. One that you hadn't thought much of when you first received it, but that now held so much more meaning.

We wrap in a week, I have something to tell you when I get back

You had expected it to be another film role he'd been going for, or maybe a new Broadway show.

You'd let yourself dream, but never let yourself hope. There was too much at stake. First and foremost, he was your friend, and you'd do anything to not ruin it. Anything but kiss him.

But that night, you dreamed.

And that morning, you hoped.

Maybe that's what had you finding out his flight details from his agent, promising a non-life threatening surprise (he had heard about the incident with the baseball bat, and was more than relieved to hear that you were taking initiative in actively not breaking his client's face – as he reiterated a thousand times over "his face pays the rent! HIS FACE IS WORTH YOUR HOUSE!"), and maybe that's what had you stood there, stomach twisted in knots as you waited.

And then you saw him.

And you were simultaneously utterly calm yet filled with butterflies – a refreshing change from the dull ache you had come to grow accustomed to when looking at him.

What you did next surprised even you.

Breaking free from the rest of the eagerly waiting crowd, you sprinted to him and flung yourself into his arms. They wrapped around you, almost as if he was expecting it, expecting you. He lifted you up and spun you around, his laughter vibrating through his whole body and working its way into yours. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you clung to him, and he chuckled breathlessly in surprise.

"Hey, you," he smiled softly down at you when he'd set you on your feet.

"Hey yourself."

And then you noticed her. You had been so happy to see him, that you didn't see her at first. But now you did. You noticed the woman next to him – the one with her own suitcase, the one watching your display of affection with amusement, the one with a beautiful (in every sense of the word) smile etched on her perfect features.

"{Your name}, this is Lily." Chris slung an affectionate arm over Lily's shoulder, pulling her slightly closer to him. He was still smiling from your surprise greeting, but when he looked at her, the smile shifted into something else. Something more. Something that crushed the hope from your lungs. "My girlfriend."

He had said it himself, that night at Vulpecula: you can't compete where you don't compare, and the fact of the matter was, you simply could not begin to compare to a girlfriend. Particularly one such as Lily.

Pretending to be overwhelmingly happy came easy, if not a little forced, and maybe if they weren't so lovesick, they would have have noticed just how pathetic your attempt was. But they didn't notice, and so you threw your arms around Lily in an excited hug. We are in the profession of pretence, after all. "So lovely to meet you!"

You almost kicked yourself. It sounded nothing like you, your voice strained and pitched a little too high. Red flushed your cheeks, but they didn't notice.

"Lily, this is {your name}. My roommate."

Roommate. Ouch. Pretending it didn't hurt when he called you roommate, not even friend, came a little harder. Chris was the actor in your friendship, it was clear enough to see now.

"Welcome to our home," you managed to get out, voice still strangled. You quickly corrected yourself: "His home. His home that I live in when he's not home."

In an effort to busy yourself and extricate yourself from the growing one-sided awkwardness of the situation, you helped Lily with her bags, leading the couple to where the car was parked.

They regaled you along the way with how they met – living together in the same hotel, meeting in the bar downstairs one night, the park dates they took.

When you asked when, the answer had your hands clenching half moons into your palms, a wave of nausea crashing over you like an icy ocean wave. Two months. Two months, and suddenly, that interview made sense.

The entire drive home, you thanked your lucky stars that you hadn't done something stupid.

Something so incredibly stupid, like hoped.

#chris evans #chris evans/you #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans/reader #chris evans angst #chrie evans fluff #dina writes #ocean eyes

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aleksandermorozovaa · 5 years ago

Text

Over cookies?

Charlie Barber x Reader

Summary: Charlie comes home after a long day of work and is greeted by his two favourite people. But a nice night is apparently the last thing the universe has in store for him.

Warnings: Angst? over the top drama?

A/N - My first time writing for Charlie, and I love this man more than anything. I’m posting this since I’ve been sitting on it for a while now and I’m hoping ya’ll can encourage me to continue? We shall see.

AO3 link: XX

Part 2: XX

Tags: @commanderbensolo

The sound of laughter echoed throughout the house, bringing a smile to Charlie’s face as he closed the door behind him and hung his keys on the little hook on the wall. A hook that you’d insisted on putting there after he’d forgotten his key three times last month, causing you to leave work early to let him into the house. At the time he’d argued that it was a one-time mistake, a lapse of memory as he rushed out of the house to get to rehearsal or a meeting. But he’d not forgotten them since the hook had been installed, a fact he could tell you’d been dying to point out.

Charlie shrugged off his coat and hung it between yours and Henry’s new favourite bright green coat that he’d insisted on getting because it reminded him of some cartoon character that he couldn’t name. Nicole would know, you probably would too, not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things, but he felt guilty that the name kept escaping him.

“Dad!” Henry called running towards him with a look of glee on his face. Henry paused to quickly hug him but before Charlie could move his hand to ruffle his hair as he usually did Henry pulled away and bounded towards the kitchen. “No time! Gotta move!” He called.

“You’re home early.” You said as you came down the stairs, folding your cardigan over body. It was getting colder out, not terribly so but enough that you couldn’t leave the house without a coat.

Call it his director’s brain, but he couldn’t help but think you looked angelic standing there, as if you were descending from the heavens to bless humanity. If he was in the theatre, if this was one of his plays, he’d make sure to have the lights dimed and have one singular spotlight on you, lighting you up so that everyone’s attention was forced to be on you, so they couldn’t look away. It was what someone as amazing as you deserved, not that you’d like that. You shied away from the spotlight. Something he failed to understand.

“Finished rehearsal early. Everyone’s in a foul mood, no point continuing so I called it.” Charlie explained as he toed off his shoes and pushed them against the wall. It wasn’t their proper place, and he’d rectify that later but right now he wanted you in his arms.

“Everyone seemed in a fine enough mood at lunch when we visited.” You said with a small frown as you made your way down the last few steps, pausing on the bottom one, leaving you almost eye level with him. A habit you had, stepping on anything you could to make the height difference between the two of you smaller. “I just think you missed me.” You said reaching out to him, your fingers hooking around his belt loops, tugging forward. Not forcefully, but enough for him to get the picture, enough for him to get excited.

He let out a hum as he moved towards her wrapping his arms around her pulling her tight, breathing her in. She smelt of coffee and something sweet that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“There might be some truth to that.” Charlie said pressing a kiss onto the top of her hair. In reality, he had been the one in a foul mood, after the two of them left at lunch to go to the park he’d been disappointed he had to stay behind. She of course had to keep sending him photos of Henry having a great time causing him to be completely unfocused and instead constantly checking his phone for more. One photo of him climbing a tree which at first had his parental instincts going wild but then he saw how close he was to the ground and he calmed down. There had been one with Henry holding a rabbit at some pop-up petting zoo and finally a selfie of the two of them, Henry covered in cream from the hot chocolate in his hands. He’d saved that one as his lock screen.

In the end Wallace had suggested they call it a day, which Charlie didn’t try to argue against. Instead he’d nodded and packed his things up in record time to get home to his favourite people.

“Y/N!” Henry called running back towards them, he held something in his hands, an egg timer Charlie noticed. Y/N turned her head which had been buried in Charlie’s shirt. “Stop being gross and come help me! They’re going to burn!” Henry’s bouncing up and down trying to express the urgency of the situation.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at the pair as he allowed Y/N to disentangle herself from him. Henry promptly took her hand in his as he dragged her towards the kitchen. He followed of course; his curiosity peeked.

Charlie settled against the kitchen counter folding his arms. He watched the pair of them crowding around the oven. Y/n gestured to Henry to move back so she could open the oven. Charlie took the chance to grab him by the shoulders and pull him back against him. “What have you two been up to.” He asked his son, ruffling his hair as he had attempted to do just minutes before.

“We made cookies.” Henry said looking up at his father with a grin. “I wanted to add gummy bears but Y/N said that it might be a disaster and you’d be upset that we wasted your secret stash.”

It was true he always made sure to have a packet of Haribo’s in the house and in his desk at the theatre, it was a guilty pleasure for him. When he was writing or planning or working on something practically tricky. The chewy texture and sugar rush did wonders to help his creative juices flow. He wasn’t sure why he hid them, other than Nicole had always given him hell for having them. Claiming it was encouraging Henry to have unhealthy habits, and he suppose it had stuck.

“You know about-“

“We know about your stash, honestly honey just because you’re built like a fridge and the only one able to see the top of it but that doesn’t mean you should hide things there.” Y/n said as she placed the tray filled with possibly the worst cookies he’d ever seen. They looked slightly over cooked and had melted into wonky uneven shapes, but he knew he’d still eat as many as he could get away with stealing.

“They’re burnt!” Henry whines looking at the cookies disappointed.

“Only a little!” Y/n said quickly in response. “Besides we have the other half of the dough ready to go in, and we know not to put them in for as long.” She added taking her oven gloves off and draping them over her shoulder.

“Maybe if you and dad didn’t spend so much time being gross we’d have two batches of good cookies!” Henry pouted and stepped out of Charlies arms. Clearly in a huff. Charlie looked up catching Y/N’s eye, she seemed hurt by Henry’s outburst.

“Hey now kid, don’t be like that.” Charlie said pulling Henry back into his reach, he gripped his waist and lifted him so he was sitting on the counter. Charlie’s arms on either side to stop him wriggling out as he predicted he would try to do.

“It’s the truth!” Henry protests, but it sounded more like tooth than truth, he’d lost his front teeth a week ago and his new ones were still growing in.

“Henry, sweetie it’s okay, we can make some more.” You say taking a step closer.

“Mom wouldn’t have burnt them. I wish mom was here.” Henry snaps and Charlie’s breath hitches. Giving Henry a chance to break from Charlie’s body prison and run. He didn’t even try to catch his son as he bounded away and up the stairs to his room. “I hate you!” Henry shouts before slamming his bedroom door.

Instead he turns his attention to you. You’d never experienced one of Henry’s outbursts, or at least not one aimed at you. You’d been there for him whenever Henry had screamed at him, it had hurt at the time fresh after the divorce. It had taken Henry a good year to get over his “mommy phase” as Nicole called it. Meaning he seemed to hate every second he spent with Charlie, and had no problem being vocal about it.

You’d held as he wept one night in bed after a particularly bad day. He’d clutched your waist and pressed his head into your chest, your shirt was soaked with his tears but you didn’t care. You’d ran you’d fingers through his hair and told him Henry didn’t mean it, that he was still processing the separation.

He wanted to do that for you now. To be that solid rock.

“Sweetheart.” He starts seeing the hurt on your face. He wanted to reach out to you.

“No, it’s okay Charlie.” You force a smile and move to go past him and he stops you, instead taking you into his arms.

“you know he didn’t mean it, don’t you?” he presses a kiss to your hairline, his lips hovering just above your skin.

“I do. You should go check on him. I’m going to go for a walk.” You pull away pausing to cup his cheek allowing him to press a soft kiss to your palm.

“Stay. Please.” He all but begs, it was getting late and he didn’t want you walking the streets when you were clearly upset.

“I just need a break, honey. I won’t be long. I promise.”

“Okay.” He knew better than to try and stop you when your mind was set on something.Instead he watched as you slipped on your shoes and coat before leaving. You didn’t let the door slam behind you like he normally did, everything you did seemed gentle like that.

He waited until you’d made it to the bottom of the garden before turning away. Then he turned to the stairs and took them two at a time.

“Henry.” he called as he stopped outside his door, he raised his hand to knock twice.

“Go away.” Henry shouts back, Charlie knows by the wave in his voice that he’s crying. He’s torn between wanting to let Henry have his tantrum and wanting to deal with it now. He tried the door handle but Henry had clearly locked the door. Nicole’s voice plagued him then, berating him for letting Henry be able to lock his door.

What if there was a fire? What if he hurt himself and was trapped. You’re so irresponsible.

Fuck Nicole for being right, even if it was his made up version that did nothing but critisise his parenting. He took a step back, his back hitting against the wall with a thump. How had it all gone wrong so quickly?

He’d been looking forward to coming home all day, to your smiling face and Henry’s excited chatter about dinosaurs or space or whatever else took his fancy that day. He’d spent all day recounting the ingredients in the fridge thinking about what him and Henry could make for dinner while you folded laundry or hoovered or just sat and relaxed. But here he was, you’d left and Henry was seemingly distraught.

All this, over cookies.

#charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber #wife me charlie barber YOU FUCKING BEAST #my writing #shut up caitlyn #Love of my life #adam driver #shatter my knees you fuckable redwood

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straightouttatheashes · 4 years ago

Text

Leaving

“You’re leaving?” The mage watched his sister as she bundled up the otter in her arms, peppering the animal with kisses and the last few snuggles goodbye. “Mmh, yeah. Being back on Azeroth was kinda a little vacation for me.” Pheonix sighed, holding ‘Lil B’ close. “But we got unfinished business in the Shadowlands. Made a few deals, threw my lot in to help with the bullshit goin on there...not to mention I’m still trying to find Ra.” Aeriden raised a brow at the ‘deals’ part, but said nothing of it. “...How long until you return?” It took a moment for her to answer him, a few coos to the otter before she looked up again and replied. “I...dunno, really. I’ll be gone by next week though.” “You know you can stay here for -” “I know, Aeri.” Pheonix smiled. “Maybe we will, for a day or two. But then....I guess I’ll see you when I see you? I think communications are workin now between the Shadowlands and Azeroth so...I can probably message you. Tell you I’m still alive or somethin.” “Are you going to talk to father?” She paused for a moment, glancing down the hallway towards the study. “....Yeah. I should.” As the otter started to wriggle, Phe sighed and pressed her forehead to his head. “You be good, okay? I know, I know...” She hated when he whined and let out those small tiny, pleading noises. “I can’t take you with me.” Passing over Little Barry, Phe gave a little wave of her fingers. “You look after him, okay?” “I will, I -.” Aeriden began - but Phe smirked and cut him off. “I wasn’t talking to you.” -------- Each time she came back to the estate, it still felt strange. This no longer felt like her home, and yet it had been opened up to her for her return. The grand paintings on the wall, the velvet drapes....the expensive furnishings. It was a place she had adored when younger, but also hated at the same time. If only for the way she had been raised. There was nothing wrong with the estate itself, even she admitted it was absolutely beautiful. But she was broken out of such thoughts, as she reached the study - poking her head around the door to find her father sitting at the large desk quietly with his nose in a book. Cirel Brightfall was looking healthier now, but Pheonix knew that wasn’t the case. They all did. His black hair had streaks of grey in it now, more than what he should have by a large extent - and his expression was always weary and tired behind the smiles. At least the looks he gave were friendly - something she was relived to see after all this time. “...Father?” Cirel glanced up from his book, lowering his glasses to give a gentle smile towards his daughter, motioning for her to enter and approach him. “Aria?” He paused as he gave her attire a glance over. “You look as if you’re dressed to set sail.” Pheonix chuckled, giving a little shrug. She’d had the decency to at least cover up - the red and gold captain’s coat making a brief comeback after being stored away for so long. “Something like that. I figured it wasn’t appropriate to deck myself out in my armor....” “You’re going back then, I assume?” The book closed, and her father’s attention was now on her completely. “Yeah. I’m needed out there.” “Out there, in the land of the dead, was it?” Cirel’s hands folded on top of the book, his fingers lacing together as he watched her come closer - though she didn’t sit down when he gestured to the plush seat across from his desk. “...The Shadowlands, yeah.” Pheonix chewed her lip. “Aeriden tells me you’ve been searching for Raa’than.” Oh for fuck’s sake. “Has he?” Her brows furrowed slightly. “He also told me why.” “Yeah well, he can shut the fuck up about that.” She didn’t mean to swear - but it kind of just slipped out. Cirel raised a brow, before exhaling slowly from his nose. “...Sorry.” Her father lifted a hand and gave a small shake of his head. “Aria...it’s been lovely to see you so often, these days. Must you leave? I believe your brother is still waiting on an answer.” “I think he already knows my answer...” Pheonix rubbed the back of her neck. “I mean, it’s not like you’ll ever see me again now...I’m just -” “Why won’t you come back? You have a place to settle -” “And it’s not here.” Her reply was quick, and she gave her father an apologetic look. “I know what you mean, like...I know. But honestly, this life isn’t for me. It never was. We established that years ago....through the worst possible way ever but, I’m not a Brightfall.” There was a short pause, as Cirel gently took his glasses from his face, placing them into a small case on the desk. “What of that man you’ve been with...the thief?” Phe snickered a little. “Don’t make this into a suitor talk. Mom tried so many times. And...you know you’ll be disappointed with the answer.” She crossed her arms and sighed. “I’m not the one you should be looking to for that stuff. I can’t continue the bloodline. Aeriden can. I don’t matter in that large...scheme of things or whatever.” She waved a hand dismissively. “But you could settle -” She looked to her father, holding his gaze for a moment. He almost looked as if he was silently pleading her to stay. “That’s...not the life for me. I live best when I’m free...dad...” She chewed her lip and glanced away a moment. “Even if I could...have children and whatever...I dunno. I don’t think the family thing is my style. Barry’s a pirate....I’m....kinda the same really. That kind of lifestyle changes so quickly.” Looking back to her father, she only gave a soft smile. “I promise I’ll be back though. When I can.” Cirel stood then, slowly moving over to pull his daughter into a gentle hug. “You’ll always be a Brightfall.” It felt as if someone had winded her. The sharp pain in her chest, the hitch of breath in her throat as she almost had to slap herself to fight back tears. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her father and sighed, her head against his chest as her short frame was enveloped in a warm embrace. “Make sure Aeriden doesn’t do anything stupid.” She mumbled, before pulling back and giving a little laugh - attempting to push back any of that emotion trying to bubble forth. “Take care of yourself, Pheonix.” Hearing that made her grin slightly. “...You too dad.” --- @golden-pocket for mentions

#writing

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dragonoffantasyandreality · 4 years ago

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Kamen Rider Thunderbirds chapter 2

Finally its here! I should thank @willow-salix for some tips and @gumnut-logic for the review *hugs you tightly* Hai! so on with the chapter! :D

-0-0-0-

With a turn of the tap, a jet of hot water cascaded down on the pruning skin and exhausted muscles. They welcomed its heat as they relaxed.

It was quite a stressful rescue of getting the poor fellas out of that cave in Mexico. After returning home and reported the rescue, nothing like a good hot shower for the all mighty Scott Carpenter Tracy

He washed his dark-brown hair with silky shampoo and scrubbed his fit body with sweet shower gel that smelled lavender

God, that felt good

With all the dirt and dust gone, Scott turned off the shower and got off

He then spends his time fixing his hair. He needed to look good… always! Even when his little brothers make fun of him taking too much time with his hair, the eldest will always be the most handsome one

Finally satisfied with his work, Scott got himself dressed with his classic blue turtle-neck, grey jacket and black jeans, then wandered off to lounge

Familiar harmonies filled his ears and the room, all coming from the beautiful white Grand Piano. Its keys been gracefully pressed by the oh so talented fingers of his younger brother, Virgil Grissom Tracy

The auburn haired man smiled at him the moment Scott entered the lounge and gave him a salute before continuing his wonders of music

Scott looked at the wall where five portraits of him and his brothers were hung.

Underneath them sat his trouble maker of a brother, Gordon Cooper Tracy, who was playing chess with Brains, the genius who help turn International Rescue into a reality

Looks like today the redhead seemed not feeling like pranking anyone

All in all, it was another quiet and mundane day at Tracy Island

Until...

"Urgh~!" A prolonged groan caught the eldest attention of a young blonde, who just splattered himself into one of the sofas of the lounge

Ah! Their baby brother, the youngest of the Tracy brothers, Alan Sherperd Tracy

Looks like he just came back after a short sprint around the island exhausted as hell… again

"What's up, Alan?" Scott smirked

A pout combined with a grumbling noise gave him the answer

"Gee, you're really are not fit…" the eldest teased

"Scott…" Alan whined, only to hear Gordon snickering quietly in the background "Not funny… I was trying to keep myself fit yet you fellas like take a tease out of me every time I get tired,"

"Alan! That's enough," got out a baritone voice

Their father, the famous billionaire ex-astronaut Jeff Tracy, was sitting at his desk with papers all over it. He starred sternly at his sons

"All of you need to keep yourselves fit, it's not just you Alan," Jeff began, "You need fitness in order to be capable of performing tasks to save lives. No one wants to be rusty during a rescue, right?"

"Right, father" affirmed Scott

"Guess you're right dad," nodded Alan

"Understood, father" agreed Virgil

"Loud and clear, dad" grinned Gordon

"Good," smiled Jeff, "Looks like I made myself clear"

After finishing signing some of the paperwork on the desk, he turned on the TV behind him

"Now, let's see what's on the news today..." The patriarch muttered

"Today this Friday morning, four Kamen Riders had been spotted fighting a monster in Moore, Oklahoma…"

Immediately, Alan was the first to rush to his father's desk and promptly sat on a chair, staring dead straight into the monitor with a face-splitting smile and his blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm

The rest of the family followed suit, ears and eyes wide open with curiosity

"Witnesses said the monster was about to terrorize their neighborhood, only to be saved once again by the heroic Riders. As the masked heroes fought the monster, it gave time to the authorities to evacuate the area"

Alan was quietly squealing with excitement as he listened, much to the confusion of Scott and the amusement of Virgil and Gordon

"Some of the rescuees managed to videotape the fight before police arrived at the scene..."

The news switched to the videos that the witnesses managed to capture of the Riders fighting the menacing threat, the Tracy family watching carefully with awe

The videos were almost blurry and mostly shaking. But, they could see 5 figures… 4 of them are fighting a threatening looking creature, looking like it's trying its best to fight back but was outnumbered. The last video showed the monster exploding into nothing

"Once again, the Kamen Riders saved the day. We are grateful for their bravery and we all gonna hope they continue their amazing yet otherworldly work!"

"Those courageous guys," muttered Jeff, "They never fail to impress me"

"You don't say, father!" excitedly chimed Alan

"Not surprised…" smirked Gordon

"What?" Alan growled,

"What? Every time there's news about those Riders, either on radio, TV or newspapers, you get way too enthusiastic about them!" Gordon pointed out, "I wonder what so special about your 'karate bugmen'"

"And why are you so interested in them?" Virgil raised an eyebrow teasingly, crossing his arms

"Why? Because they are the coolest fellas I've ever seen!" expressed Alan as he was waving his hands, "They say superheroes aren't real, but Kamen Riders do! They possess powers that exceeded our wildest dreams! Don't you think it's also amazing at the fact that they are saving people with those kinds of powers. It's like a dream come true!"

Oh, is it no wonder Alan was obsessed with them? Thought Scott

Well, it shouldn't be a surprise, their baby brother was obsessed with the bugmen since he was 14.

It all started with a news magazine. There was a small section with a tiny history behind them accompanied by few low quality and blurry pictures. Since then, Alan was invested every time they appeared

Kamen Riders does spark a bit of curiosity in Scott, he had to admit, and the rest of his brothers

"Can't say I blame you, Alan" admitted Jeff while turning off the TV

Everyone turned at him with curious looks

"What do you mean, father?" Virgil asked

"They existed longer than any of us, even before we went into operations," he explained, "But it's not just that that fascinates me. As Alan had said, these fellas are gifted with powers beyond our understanding. It's still baffles me that such people exist (if they are people at all),"

Scott noticed Brains mumbling to himself. He was lost into his own bright mind, his face told curiosity

The eldest of the Tracy brothers was about to say something, but his dad had already beaten him

"What are you thinking, Brains? Do we know anything else about them?"

"W-well, Mr, T-Tracy, I have observed the f-footage and have deduced that their, uh, their powers, have to be organic in nature," Brains explained

"What do you mean by that?" Scott raised a brow

"That they are not derived from human technologies…"

"What about the monsters that they were fighting?" quipped Gordon, seeming interested, “Why did those creatures want to enslave or eradicate humanity?”

"That G-Gordon, I don't know. Either way, we, we better thank the R-Riders to stop whatever evil schemes they p-planned to do,” the genius answered

“It's like those… Um… What are they called?” Gordon rubbed his chin as he thought

“What 'they'?" Virgil raised a brow

"You know, those 'things' who started killing and possessing people and all that crap ever since we've started colonizing Mars?"

"The Mysterons?" Alan replied

"Yes! Those guys! And some races of 'seamen' who seemed to hate us 'terranians' for some reason"

"That is Spectrum's and WASP's job to keep them at bay," noted Jeff

"Now that I think about it, why does everything want to kill us?" commented the redhead

"That’s enough, Gordon" Scott cuffed the back of the prankster's head

"Actually, why are they called 'Kamen Riders'?” pondered Alan, “That’s a really strange name for superheroes,"

" 'Kamen' comes from a Japanese word for 'masked', since they originated from Japan," said a smart and sexy sounding voice

All turned to the portrait turned vid-com of the middle child of the Tracy brothers, John Glenn Tracy, who smiled when his sudden appearance startled his youngest brother

"Which means they are 'Masked Riders', so this isn’t that ‘strange’", continued the space monitor, "It totally makes sense since they ride on their weird looking motorbikes and we have no idea what they look like behind those bug-faces, "

"Ah, look who decided to throw smartass facts from the floating space can" grinned Gordon teasingly

"I've been hearing you fellas this whole time, squid face," deadpanned John

Jeff chuckled at the little commotion

"Hi, John. How are you doing up there?" greeted warmly the patriarch of International Rescue

"Doing fine, father," the tall blond replied with confidence that seemed to be unbreakable, "All systems are go and the frequencies are coming in smoothly,"

Jeff smiled hearing the excellent news

That John...

As much he is the introvert of the Tracy brothers, he never stop surprising his siblings with his calculated bright mind

"Uh, John?" Asked Brains so suddenly, but that didn't startled the astronaut

"Yes, Brains?" Responded the space monitor

"Can we talk to my lab so we can examine the, uh, the footage more closely? We can make out theories about how the Riders use their powers,"

"FAB," acknowledged John

"Already found another side-project, Brains?" Scott chuckled,

The genius smiled at him, excitement shone behind his glasses, "I need something to do, Scott. As a matter of fact, I always wanted to study the K-Kamen Riders for a while!"

"Aw, Brains…" groaned Gordon, but in a childlike manner, "We haven't finished our chess game yet!"

"Uh, later, G-Gordon," Brains affirmed, "Right now, I got some 'bugmen' to study," before doodling away to his lab as hummed in excitement

Scott’s father laughed wholeheartedly, knowing how invested his old partner can get with something as intriguing as the ever mysterious Kamen Riders

“Well, gotta go help Brains,” remarked John, “Thunderbird 5, out…” before cutting off, the screen returned back into a painting once more

After that, everyone returned to their daily activities after that. Jeff told everyone to relax while they still can, before grabbing a book to read. Virgil said he’ll go to Thunderbird 2’s hangar to do maintenance and true to his word he went . Scott decided to play chess with Gordon as there was nothing else to do, while Alan just referee the game

The thought of Kamen Riders still linger in Scott’s mind, however. Who are they? Are they just people, like himself and the rest of the world? Who just so happens being gifted with powers that surpasses science?

He doesn't know…

No one knows...

Scott must've been distracted, because by the time he was think about the subject, he’s already got checkmated by Gordon

After a couple of laughs, throwing each other challenges(with Alan wished he had with him popcorn to watch the ‘epic chess battle’), they re-matched once again

It’s just another day at Tracy Island

-0-0-0-

Somewhere in a deep, tropical jungle, there was a menacing looking temple

Inside was a man in black clothing, standing near a round, ancient altar

He had already finished the ritual

The altar awakened in a bright glow of evil aura

Four amulets was insert in each side of the altar, glowing with each of their elements when a chorus of voices echoed the chamber's of the temple

"Who thou released us, what is your wish?"

The man in black smiled grimly as he told the answer, "I want an organization known as 'International Rescue' to fall into oblivion, so I can be the most powerful man in the world!"

A red amulet suddenly glowed brightly and took off from it's socket of the altar. It flew to the center before it was then engulfed in flames. After a few moments, the fire had faded. Leaving in its wake a silhouette of a menacing creature

Glowing red evil eyes stared into the man in black, seemingly reading his mind, before letting out a chilling grin

“I shall melt their fragile ships into nothing but molten metal…”

“Then I shall burn their feeble flesh to ashes…”

“And your wish shall be granted within an essence made out of their souls…”

The temple shook by the sounds of maniacal laughs and echoed through the forest. It scared the wildlife as they run away from its evil influence

The master plan had begun...

The nightmares had been unleashed to the world...

tbc...

#Thunderbirds #thunderbirds 1965 #kamen rider #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Alan Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Brains #Kamen Rider Thunderbirds series #my fanfics #kamen rider fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfiction

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thestanceyg · 4 years ago

Text

Darcyland Drabble Race the Second

So here’s my contribution to another drabble race. Again under the cut because there’s a LOT.

Quantum 1 “Oh my god,” Jane said, flopping down on to the couch next to her. “I had forgotten this show was even a thing.”

“It’s my stay home from school sick comfort show,” Darcy said as she pulled her blanket tighter around her. The chills she was experiencing were no joke.

“Man, I wonder how the creators of Quantum Leap feel now? Like…that tech kinda actually exists, even if it’s classified.”

“I don’t think they know about it Jane,” Darcy said with a fond roll of her eyes. “You know, on account of it being classified and all.”

2 “The fuck does this word mean?” her dumbass lab partner asked.

“Which word?” she asked with a put upon sigh.

“Quantum,” he said, pointing to literally the first question.

“Thor wept,” she muttered under her breath before turning to him more fully. “Here,” she said, pointing back to the textbook. “Definition’s right here. I’ll even read it to you. A discrete quantity of energy proportional in magnitude to the frequency of the radiation it represents.”

“No need to be a bitch about it.”

She idly wondered if killing him was a possibility. “Sure sure,” she said, sugary sweet. “Since I’m such a bitch, don’t worry about me helping again.”

3 “I don’t think the quantum physics work that way,” Fitz said with a tilt of his head as he looked at the projection.

“I mean, I didn’t either,” Darcy agreed, joining him, “but I also don’t doubt our modeling software. Something’s happening here that’s unexpected, and that means either we have something wrong, or there’s something we have yet to figure out that’s acting on everything.”

“You know what that means?” he said with a smile.

“More research dates,” she said before kissing the tip of his nose.

“Can’t wait,” he said before claiming her lips.

4 “Quantum Laser Tag is the best!” she yelled, highly offended. “I can’t believe you just besmirched it’s good name!”

“Err, all I said was that laser tag was kinda lame.”

“It is not!” she practically whined. “Okay, dude, maybe you’ve not had good laser tag experiences, but I have to say that does not mean you get to shit on literally the greatest arena in at least the tristate area.”

“You’re…really passionate about this,” he said giving her a look she couldn’t decipher.

“So is this your way of bowing out of our first date?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hell no,” he said, smiling.

5 “I’m just saying, that the names at this bar are not scientifically accurate,” she complained.

“Jane. Literally none of us give a shit. We are here to get shitfaced and giggle over our jobs being somehow alcohol themed,” Darcy reprimanded her.

“I’m definitely having a Quantum Blast,” Helen said, sidling up to the bar.

“Really?” Darcy said giving her a disgusted look. “I mean…there’s something about adding the word ‘blast’ to it that turns me off from it.”

“Fair,” Helen agreed. “But it has triple sec in it and I’m in the mood.”

Darcy tilted her head in acknowledgment of the wisdom.

6 “I promise to never play with the quantum field again if we can just get out of this alive,” Darcy said more to herself than anyone else.

“What?” Scott asked.

“Just promising myself to try and stick to my field in the future should I survive whatever this is.” She gestured to the everything around them that really defied understanding.

Scott nodded. “I wish I could make a similar vow, but it’s kinda my field now. Though this,” he looked around a bit, “is indeed disconcerting. I could, err, try to make it up to you when we get out of here.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yes?”

7 “Nope. Not happening. I will not be teaching quantum physics as my teaching assignment next semester. It’s not my field. I would have to do my own research just to feel like I was giving the students an adequate course,” she said as soon as the department head had offered her the schedule.

“Well you don’t have a lot of options here. You’re still a candidate and not a post doc so you don’t get to argue with me really.”

“This is some serious bullshit,” Darcy groaned. “But seriously, Johnson would be way better at this. He even has done research in this field.”

“Yes well…”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Darcy groaned. “You’re doing him a favor and I’m the one that has to deal with the consequences?”

Nebula 1 “And if you look here,” the professor droned on as he used his laser pointer, “you can see a nebula that is starting to die.”

“Kinda like me in this class,” she muttered under her breath. The guy next to her laughed, but covered it with a cough. She looked at him and winked, and he honest to Thor blushed. Well damn if that wasn’t the cutest thing that she’d ever seen.

She grabbed a scrap of paper and wrote her name on it and slid it over to him.

He read it and smiled a bit and wrote back.

Fitz. Nice name. She couldn’t wait to be screaming it later.

2 Nebula was very murderous and Darcy kinda loved her for it. It seemed like there was a lot of deep seated anger that the woman was ready and willing to take out on anyone and everyone. You had to love her unapologetic rage. Darcy couldn’t help but admire how she didn’t give a shit if someone thought it made her less attractive because anyone dumb enough to voice that sentiment would probably end up with a knife in them. Was it wrong that she was a little turned on?

That thought made her come up short.

Shit. She didn’t have time for a crush.

3 The fabric technically had nebulas all over it, though the fabric name had the word galaxy. In the grand scheme of things it really didn’t matter, but it annoyed her for some reason. It seemed that all sorts of little things were bothering her lately, and she couldn’t find the reason. Why should she care that she had “galaxy fabric” that was actually nebula fabric? She would make the damn pillow covers and then she could tell her friends it was nebula print. Giving up caffeine had been a bad idea. It made her crabby. She should probably reconsider her idea to stop drinking coffee.

4 Nebula Swirl was possibly the best flavor of ice cream she had ever eaten, and it was looking like she would only be able to eat it for one more month if something drastic didn’t happen. She took her cone and snapped a picture and posted it to Instagram with the tag SaveGalacticCones. Maybe someone would see it and drop some cash their way. It wasn’t their fault that the freak storm had damaged the property and left them paying off heavy repair bills. They deserved to thrive, if for no other reason than it was the ice cream of her youth and she had so little to remember her childhood by.

5 “I don’t research in the Horseshoe Nebula,” she said with a frustrated sigh. “In fact, I don’t even look within a million light years of there. So please explain to me in very small words why you think your project should get any of my grant money.”

“Because I need to fund my research Dr. Witherow said. “It’s as simple as that. I need more funding and you just won a lot of money. There’s no way you’ll need all of it, so umbrella my study under your project and we’ll both win.”

“No, dude, we won’t ‘both win.’ That grant is actually just one of three for my project because it doesn’t cover everything.” Thor save her from entitled scientists.

6 “It looks kind a like a nebula” Jane said as she looked at the giant bruise on Darcy’s hip.

“I guess that’s fitting because the pain is out of this world,” Darcy tried to joke. It didn’t quite come off as carefree as she had hoped, but that was possibly because she was an hour out from her next pain pill and the current one seemed to have mostly worn off.

“Darce,” Jane said with a bit of warning in her voice. “You’re going to let me coddle you because that’s what I need. I think you do too.”

Darcy sighed. “I know.”

7 A burst of nebula like light flashed before her eyes as the hit landed.

She didn’t pass out, but it was a near thing.

“You will do what we want, Dr. Lewis!” the man spit at her.

“No. I won’t,” she argued. “And you hit like a little kid.”

The man’s face turned a red she didn’t realize was possible before he backhanded her, hitting the already blooming bruise from the earlier punch. “I think you will change your mind.”

“I’d rather die.”

“That can be arranged,” he sneered.

“I doubt it,” she countered. “You need me too much. And if you keep hitting my head, it’ll be that much longer before I’m even capable of doing what you ask.”

Vortex 1 Of course it was a solar vortex. Or, at least that’s what she was calling this abomination in her mind. She wasn’t sure what else to call what appeared to be a tornado of sunlight that was leaving a path of fire and destruction behind it. Why couldn’t normal things happen to her?

She would have to blame Jane. Shit like this never happened to her before New Mexico.

Of course, it could also be that this kind of madness would still happen to her even if she had never been an intern, but blaming Jane felt familiar. That woman definitely owed her ice cream for changing her life like this.

2 “It’s not a vortex” Dr. Strange said, the pinched look on his face clearly telling him what he thought of Darcy and her inability to call it whatever name he had given his portal thingy. She knew it wasn’t a vortex. It was just fun to razz him and see him get annoyed.

He was kinda cute when he was annoyed.

Well, he was kinda cute regardless, but his cuteness was focused on her whenever he was annoyed because 99% of the time it was her fault.

It wasn’t healthy, but it was working so she’d deal with the mental health implications later.

3 “I promise you that’s not a tornado,” she said to her storm chasing boyfriend. “I know it looks like one, but, very unfortunately for the entire town of Lawton, it’s actually an anomaly called a temporal vortex.”

“What does that mean, Darcy?” he yelled over the roar of the storm.

“It means that if we don’t get out of the path of that thing we’ll end up in an alternate reality that may or may not include a breathable atmosphere.”

“Right,” he said, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I’d like to live to have another date so one storm evasion coming up.”

4 “It’s called The Vortex,” Helen said reverently as she placed what Darcy thought was a fishbowl on the table. It had six straws sticking out of it.

“Why?” Pepper asked, looking at the drink cautiously.

Helen shrugged. “Does it matter? What matters is it tastes like sunshine and amaretto and goes down easy and will get you shitfaced if that’s what you want.”

Jane grabbed a straw and took a long slurp. “I need to get shitfaced and Helen isn’t wrong. I don’t care what’s in the Vortex. It can be made of baby souls and I will keep drinking it. It’s a fucking delight in my mouth.”

5 “I am sick of the Polar Vortex and it’s technically only been here for three hours,” Darcy said as she cuddled more into the blankets and tried to burrow even further into the warmth of her boyfriend.

“I’m not exactly excited about it either,” he agreed, “but at least it means we have guaranteed time together. That’s been a rare occurrence lately.”

Darcy nodded and debated it it was worth getting her arm out of the blanket to grab her hot chocolate.

“Darce?” he asked.

She turned to look at him. His eyes were soft. “I love you.”

Her breath stopped. He hadn’t said that before. Maybe the Polar Vortex wasn’t that bad.

6 “Sedona is weird,” Spencer said with a frown.

“Are you talking about the vortices?” she asked.

“I am,” he said, studying the map they had been given at the little tourism station. “I just. I can’t believe people believe in this stuff.”

“Ehh,” she said. “There’s a lot of shit I wouldn’t have believed in before it happened to me. You know, like Asgardians and such.”

“Maybe,” he agreed with pursed lips.

She pointed to a spot on the map. “Look, that one’s on a trail. We said we were going to do some hiking, so we’ll go there and treat it scientifically.”

He perked up just like she knew he would. “Sounds like a plan,” he said with a kiss to her cheek.

7 “I am a vortex of emotion,” she said before throwing herself on the couch.

Pepper handed her a glass of white wine. “What happened today?”

“He’s just so cute,” she practically whined. “And he has no idea that literally every time I’m talking to him I’m trying to flirt. I swear I used to be good at it.”

“Perhaps Bruce is ignoring it?”

Darcy shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I also hate that idea. Please don’t ever say that again. How can I live if he doesn’t like me back?”

“Do I just attract drama queens, or is there something special about you and Tony?”

Darcy gasped. “How dare you think I’m not special. You take that back!”

Supernova 1 “Why are you listening to Oasis on repeat?” Jane asked as she walked into Darcy’s apartment.

“Not Oasis,” Helen corrected, “Champagne Supernova.”

“Oh, Darcy. No hon.” Jane threw her purse on a chair and went to the kitchen and started going through the freezer. “Okay, here’s the plan,” she said as she came back into the living room. “I am going to make us some very alcoholic fruit slushies, you are going to move on from Oasis to some 90s Alanis, and then you are going to tell us what happened.”

Jane disappeared back into the kitchen and Helen looked at Darcy.

“And then we plot revenge,” she added.

2 “I promise you there was never a Gusher flavor called Supernova Blast. That wasn’t a thing. You need to stop trying to convince me it was. I might be dumb, but I am not that gullible.”

“Aww, babe! Who said you were dumb! I’ll be happy to knock some sense into them.

“Darce, that’s not the point,” Peter said with a whine. “The point is you cannot make me believe it.”

Darcy turned her laptop to show him the Google Image search with Supernova Blast gushers.

“Your reality is so flippin’ weird,” he said as he stared at the screen.

3 “It’s, like, more than a nova. It’s a SUPER nova.”

Darcy just stared at the man in front of her. This was the last time she allowed Clint to set her up on a blind date.

“Riiight,” she said. “Ummm, I’m sorry, but I need to go to the bathroom. Be right back,” she said as she grabbed her purse and praised the heavens that she hadn’t brought a coat too.

She grabbed a waitress as soon as she was out of his line of sight. “Hi, I need to escape a bad date and I will pay you $40 to let me out a back door.”

The waitress grabbed the money. “Done.”

4 “And next up is Supernova!” the announcer roared. Darce waved to the crowd as her name was called. She hadn’t expected to love roller derby as much as she did, but it truly was a life saver. The team was amazing, it allowed for stress relief, and it was something that was just hers. No being in Jane’s academic shadow. No being in her brother’s professional musician shadow. No shadows. Just Darcy.

As they set up for the first jam she looked up to the crowd and saw some signs with her name on them. She had never felt more alive.

5 “Excuse me?” the man at the counter said, “Are you really telling me that you’ve never heard of the Supernovas?”

Darcy gritted her teeth. “Honestly, dude, it doesn’t matter if I have or not. What I asked was whether or not you had any Aquabats.”

“But I can’t let you listen to that when you could be listening to the Supernovas.”

“I think you are missing what exactly your role is here. I came here looking specifically for a present for my brother, and I came to you to help me with it. In exchange, you should be telling me whether or not you have it, not making me want to leave because you won’t stop forcing your terrible bands on me.”

He stared at her in annoyance.

6 She imagined that this was what it must feel like at the center of a supernova. She had never felt so warm and alive and bursting. His simple confession wasn’t something she had ever expected, but it knocked the ice off her heart and had made her realize that she loved him too. She loved him in a consuming way that she hoped would eventually burn down to warm contentment and not eat them alive, but she couldn’t deny that his love had changed her and she could never go back to not knowing how this felt.

7 “You can’t use the supernova attack in this setting!” Steve said.

“I don't’ see why,” Darcy argued. “What’s stopping me?”

“Because that’s not how it’s supposed to be used.”

Darcy made a tsking noise at him. “Stevey, you can’t say that you want to follow the spirit of things here. You knew I was the type of person to always argue I was technically inside of the rules to do crazy shit when you asked me to join your game. So you either let me cast this or you kill me so I can go play with people that enjoy my unorthodox approach.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “Roll please.”

#darcylanddrabblerace #revengers

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dwaynepride · 5 years ago

Text

the unfortunate case of nonchalance

PART II - BIRDS OF A KIND

summary: while in town, jethro bumps into the endearing lady he met several days ago. and he finds it hard to tell her no.

words: 3,943

warnings: female reader

tags: @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty @pageofultron @stanathanxoox @kittenlittle24

author’s note: part 2 of the cowboy!au series. this is a part of meg’s 11k challenge. the prompts are cowboy au and secret relationship trope.

PART I | PART III

February 22th, 1889

It finally feels as if we’re settling down, even just a bit. Nobody likes being this far East - I can see how on edge everyone is. But we’re safe here, for the time being. That’s what matters.

Anthony still hasn’t told me his grand money-making scheme. Says he won’t until he’s worked everything out, but that don’t make me feel any better. There was a time when such promises of a plan would’ve interested me. But now, it only leaves me with a sour gut feeling.

For now, I’ll wait and hope that man has enough sense in his skull not to get us all killed.

At least Doctor Mallard is rescuing me from sitting in camp - he wants to go into town for supplies, and asked if I would accompany him. He says he’ll need help bringing everything back, but I suspect he knows I’ve been idle for too long.

He thinks I’ve been distracted. Thinking about what we left behind in the West.

I’ll let him keeping thinking that.

Doctor Mallard brought only one sack to carry the supplies in. And Jethro’s holding that single sack, tucked against the crook of his arm. It only confirmed his suspicions that the older man felt Jethro was spending too much time in camp. As tedious as camp is, though, it’s preferable to walking through town.

A man bumped into Jethro’s shoulder. “Hey!” He snapped, but the man just kept walking without a single apology. And it made Jethro huff. “Rude bastard.”

“The youth today have scarcely any manners, Jethro,” Doctor Mallard muses. He didn’t seem all that bothered by the rude display.

Jethro just gives a small hum, head shaking as he hitches the sack up higher and glances around at the bustling street. People coming in going, paying little attention to two dirty cowboys who are merely making their way back to their horses. Their clothes are spotless, stylish, full of lace and pristine furs - Jethro’s never felt quite so different than he does now.

The sun comes down on them hard. The long brim of his hat keeps the light out of Jethro’s eyes, but the day is long and hot. He’s looking forward to riding out of the stifling town. Feeling the wind and returning to the camp, where everything seems more free. More normal.

They pass the bank. Jethro’s eyes are shielded by his hat; he doesn’t see the person coming out of the building. Barely cares, until he hears her voice say his name in a way he recognizes.

Well, it’s more like his body recognizes it. Because his feet stop, his head comes up, and his eyes peer out from under the shade.

“Mr. Gibbs,” you repeat. Slower, this time. But still high-pitched; obviously pleased to see him away, and Jethro honestly cannot tell if he feels the same. He enjoyed your company, sure. Enjoyed talking to you. Found you amusing and endearing and interesting, all that once.

On the other hand, Doctor Mallard was right there...

“Is this your friend?”

You’re looking to the doctor now, stepping closer and holding out a hand, which he obviously takes. Jethro has to swallow before nodding his head. “This is Donald Mallard. He’s a very good friend of mine,” he answers. And the older doctor may be able to fool strangers, but Jethro was no such fool. When he introduced Mallard to the girl, he gave Jethro a look. So nonchalant - barely there - but he knew its meaning:

She’s quite pretty, isn’t she?

Jethro looked away so his face wouldn’t answer.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Doctor.”

“Believe me, dear. The pleasure is mine.”

“Well, we must be leaving,” Jethro cuts in quickly. You look at him, surprised. But he keeps his eyes away as he puts on hand on Doctor Mallard’s shoulder, trying to steer him away. “Our friends need these supplies...”

“Oh, that’s alright! I was just on my way home, anyway!” You call out after them. And Jethro can’t help feeling relieved. He can only imagine how Doctor Mallard will tease him about this back at camp. Meeting and befriending a pretty lady without mentioning it - scandalous stuff.

But the Doctor stops, and for an old man, his feet are rooted to the ground quite firmly. Despite Jethro’s shoves, he turns back to the woman still standing before the bank. “Jethro, what kind of gentleman are you?” He asks in a scolding voice. “You’re not going to offer to take this nice lady home?”

Jethro sighs, his fingers tight on Doctor Mallard’s shoulder but lets his hand drop away. He knows what the older man is playing at, but he’s also right.

“That’s not necessary,” you pipe up. When Jethro looks over, you’re smiling shyly. Obviously trying to wave off the offer.

And yet, Jethro hands the sack over to Doctor Mallard, who takes it gleefully. “No, it’d be my pleasure,” Jethro says. And he hopes you don’t catch rueful tone of his voice.

“Our horses are hitched right over here, dear.” You and Jethro follow Doctor Mallard in silence. He’s ranting off about the price of canned goods in this town; how they’re impossibly high compared to other towns. Jethro barely listens. He’s focused too much on you - how you’re walking next to him, movements so elegant, it’s alien to a rough cowboy like him. His own spurs clinked against the gravel road, footfalls heavy. A startling contradiction.

Jethro waits silently as the doctor pulls himself onto his old nag. And once he’s settled, Jethro dips his head to him. “Safe ride,” he says simply.

“And you, as well,” Doctor Mallard replies. And there’s a certain edge in his voice, almost teasing without being blatant about it. But Jethro heard the mischief in his voice - it made him scowl and turn to his own horse.

You’re waiting patiently, wearing a soft smile, and he realizes why the good doctor had told him to ride safe.

“You live far?” Jethro asks while pulling himself up. Once he’s in the saddle, he reaches down for your hand. And when you take it, his eyes avert away. The contact was so small and simple but the soft skin of your hand and the light grip you have, it affects him. And he hopes the wide brim of his hat is enough to hide his face as Jethro pulls you up to sit behind him.

“Not very. On the edge of town - it’s the big white house. Just head down the main street-”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Jethro cuts in. He pulls the reins and starts heading down the main road. “Big house like that, it’s kinda hard to miss.”

There’s a light laugh from you. Jethro’s grateful his back is turned, face hidden. “Almost too big, in fact. There’s a lot of empty rooms. Sometimes it feels almost....lonely,” you reply.

Feeling lonely in a big ol’ house, that’s not a feeling Jethro was too familiar with. Then again, he knows he owns his own brand of loneliness. The type that lingers, even when he’s surrounded by people. Especially in this town, when the strangers are even more strange to him than usual.

He doesn’t feel that loneliness right now, though.

Jethro clears his throat, head turning a bit to see you in his periphery before looking forward again. “So, what were you doing in that bank?” He asks nonchalantly. Though, he scolds himself; the question was both mundane and prying.

But you didn’t seem bothered, remarkably. “Visiting my father and his associate,” you answer quickly. “He says I should become familiar with how the business is run, since I may be involved running it, one day.”

He hums low while pulling the reins, turning his horse in the direction of your big white house. “Sounds like your father’s got your life all figured out,” Jethro says.

You’re quiet for a moment, and Jethro’s worried that perhaps he’s offended your father. Or worst yet, offended you. “Oh, it’s not like that,” you tell him. “I’m happy to learn. And he’s right, after all.”

Still, Jethro disagrees. But he doesn’t say anything, this time. Doesn’t want to run the risk of angering you. Or give you a reason to stop seeing him in a good light. And Jethro’s well aware that such a thing will happen eventually; just not right now.

There’s a bit of rough terrain on the road. Lots of mud from when it rained the night before, and it has the horse’s hooves sliding. It lets out a little whine, and Jethro pulls on its reins to keep it balanced. But the sudden jolting around must’ve spooked you - your arms are suddenly around his midsection. Holding on tight, afraid to fall. A normal reaction, of course.

But it shocks Jethro. His hands grip the reins even harder, and he’s grateful for the muddy road. Because you can’t feel the way his lungs suck in a deep breath.

What a humiliating response, Jethro chides himself. It’s as if he’s some dumb young man getting squirrelly when a woman touches him. And yet, that’s how he’s feeling. With your arms around his midsection, your front against his back, Jethro can’t think of any words to use to continue the conversation.

He rolls his eyes at himself.

It feels like an eternity to reach your home, riding in silence. But Jethro stops by the end of the fence, lifting his eyes to get a good look at the impressive white house. He imagines it must be even more beautiful inside, and quickly decides it fits you just fine.

“Thank you for the ride home, Mr. Gibbs.”

Your voice draws his attention away from the house. Jethro immediately dips his head, and his hand comes out to help you down from the back of his horse. “Wasn’t a problem,” he replies simply. Once down, your hands run down the length of your dress, straightening it back out.

He’s gotta go.

“Well, you have a good day, miss,” Jethro says. And with another nod of his head, he steers his horse away from the magnificent homestead. He’ll just ride back to camp and lock himself away in his tent for the rest of the day...

“Mr. Gibbs, hold on a moment.”

Despite himself, Jethro stops his horse. Sighs, and turns to look at you. “Yeah?”

You’re nervous, he can tell. Not on your face, but in your hands. How they wring together and keeping running down the fabric of your dress. “Would you like to join me for a drink in the saloon tonight?” You ask.

A drink? Jethro doesn’t know how to respond. He knows his answer should be no. He should make up an excuse for not being able to join you tonight, or any other night. Instead, he says nothing. Just stares.

Still nervous, you continue. “Or perhaps not tonight, if you’re otherwise engaged. I would just like to thank you for bringing me home when you didn’t need to.”

Jethro’s hands are in his lap, absently fiddling with the old leather reins. “A lady like yourself enjoys the company in a saloon?” He asks, tone conveying a teasing disbelief.

Just say no, you old bastard...

Finally, you smile. Jethro doubts he’ll be able to go through with his plans.

“You forget my father, sir.” Your hands come behind your back; more relaxed than you outta be, around him. “No man dares to lay a hand on me, if he knows what’s good for him. Not without my consent, that is.” You add on that last part with haste, and Jethro doesn’t miss it.

In spite of himself, he smiles and shakes his head. Disbelieving that you’re so able to change his mind in a snap, but somehow, not adverse to it. “I think I’ll let you buy me that drink, ma’am. I will meet you there tonight.”

Looking pleased, you dip your head to him and turn to walk up to the house. Jethro watches, just for a few moments. Once the breeze picks up and starts billowing your dress, that’s when he turns and rides toward camp. And he doesn’t see when you look back to him.

The ride back to camp was slower than usual. It gave Jethro a few peaceful moments to think things over. It was just a simple drink, he told himself. A thank you from a nice lady because he rode her home. Not all the women in this town are so snooty and uptight, he reminds himself. A couple glasses of the finest bourbon they have (Jethro’s confident you can afford it), and he’ll be gone.

He’s still in his own head when Jethro comes back into camp. Everyone seems to be doing their own thing; too preoccupied to bother with him. Abigail and Eleanor doing chores. Doctor Mallard going through his medicinal stores. Tim seems to be scolding Jimmy for getting the fishing line in knots again.

Jethro ducks into his tent, going straight for his clothing chest. Surely he has something decent to wear. It won’t be anywhere close to the level of prestige he’s sure you’re used to, but it’ll have to do.

He opens the chest, and instantly spots a pure white cotton shirt. That outta suffice.

“Hey, Boss!”

Instantly, Jethro closes the chest and straightens up when Anthony comes in.

He’s wearing that troubling grin again. Jethro’s mood instantly drops a little; he has a hunch of what the younger man is here for. “What do you want?”

Anthony isn’t turned off from Jethro’s icy question. In fact, it prompts him to step closer. The excitement is nearly palpable from the Italian, and it’s slightly worrying. Anthony’s not-exactly-legal idea to get some cash was something he hadn’t divulge that day in town. He said he wanted to work out a plan first. Wanted to make sure it was full proof.

Evidently, he’s worked it out.

“My plan to get us some money,” Anthony starts off. His grin turns into a proud smile, and he’s standing straight. Jethro’s stomach is suddenly a little tight. “The big bank in town. It’s sure to have a lot of money and valuables in it - you know these rich folk would keep their money in a vault. Tim and Jimmy said they’d come along as extra guns. Even Ellie is going to provide a distraction. I’ve worked it out, and it can’t go wrong. Especially if you’re there with us.”

Perhaps in the past, and Jethro was a little more reckless, he’d agree to the plan. And for what it’s worth, it seemed pretty solid. Anthony’s annoying, but he’s competent. A born thief and this is just flexing his muscles.

But Jethro remembers just this afternoon when you came out of the bank - how much time you must spend in there. Knows that you think him a good man, for whatever reason that he can’t understand.

“No,” he says. And instantly, Anthony’s face falls. Jethro’s head shakes as he takes a step closer to the younger man. “Our plan was to lie low. To not get into trouble while we’re here. Our life is out west, don’t you remember that? A bank robbery would ruin all that.”

“We’re wearing masks. Nobody would know-”

“You have my answer, Anthony,” Jethro snaps out. “I suggest you go tell the others that your plan is off. We’ll find other ways to get money.”

Anthony’s silent. Doesn’t move for a few tense moments, and Jethro wonders if he’ll continue to fight for his plan. But eventually, he huffs and stomps out of the tent. Jethro watches him go, and he hopes he rejected the plan for the right reasons.

The music could be heard from outside the saloon. Music, and the rowdy noises of dozens of people inside. Every one of them drunk and that’s what gets Jethro wary. Drunk people are often very stupid.

Still, he knows you’re inside. Waiting to buy him a glass of bourbon, and Jethro’s not known for keeping a lady waiting.

He pushes through the door, and instantly gets more than a few sets of eyes cast on him. And by now, he’s used to it. Being in this town, looking how he looks, he’s accustomed to side glances as these rich people size him up and decide he’s likely lower than dirt.

But while they’re looking at him, Jethro instantly finds you. He notices you’re wearing a finer dress than you were earlier, and new sets of jewelry twinkle in the saloon lights. Jethro’s not really a religious man, but he reckons this is about as close as angels can look. Both ethereal and warm.

His good mood is halted, however, when his eyes finally drift away from you. There’s a man beside you, leaning against the bar on one arm but facing you and judging from the look you’re wearing, this man isn’t wanted. The look, Jethro notes, is more-so the lack of an expression. Because he’s known you to be smiley and friendly with those you like.

There’s not any smile gracing your lips.

The man touches your arm. Not aggressively, granted. A brush of his fingers. But Jethro recalls your words earlier, and his feet are instantly moving. Thudding hard against the wood to bring himself to you.

And you see him approach first. Your eyes lighten up, but there’s still no smile.

So Jethro stops beside the man. His clothes are expensive, and his hair (if it weren’t so messy) is expertly cut. He can dress like a gentleman all he wants, but Jethro knows better. “Leave the lady alone, alright? She don’t want your company.”

The drunken man looks to him, only just realizing his presence. And then he pushes off the bar, standing at full height, but Jethro keeps his eyes steady on his. “Excuse me, sir? Don’t believe you were invited in on this conversation,” the man rolls out. His words are slurred and his breath reeks of liquor. Jethro can’t help but wrinkle his nose.

“You ain’t excused,” he replies steely cold. “Go stink up some other poor bastard’s saloon.”

It seems the man is finally catching on that Jethro was antagonizing him. His red eyes narrow, shoulders squaring. Jethro’s hands curl into fists, even after he feels your hand on his arm. A light squeeze, almost desperate. “Let’s just leave him, Mr. Gibbs. It ain’t worth-”

“I’ll show you who’s excused!”

The punch he throws is sloppy. Uncoordinated. Jethro should’ve been able to dodge it. But your hand had been on his arm. He was distracted.

The fist connected with his face, just below his eye - a solid hit, despite a poor swing. Pain exploded against Jethro’s face, and it’s nearly enough to knock him to the floor. But his hands hit the wood first, and he stumbles back up to his feet; Jethro’s not about to let some drunken idiot get on top.

He whirls around, fists up, ready to strike. In the background, he notices the music stop. People are cheering. But Jethro’s attention is only on the man advancing on him, arm cranking back for another punch.

But this time, Jethro’s ready. He dodged the punch easily, even feeling the wind of it brush past his face. And in the next second, his own fist connects with the man’s jaw. A more solid punch than he was given. More power behind it. More pain delivered.

It sent him crumbling to the ground, hitting the wood floor with a solid thump and made the bar patrons all gasp in shock. A few of the drunker, more rowdy ones even cheered. Jethro kept his eyes on the man, now out cold but silently hoping he’d get back up. To give him another reason to deliver another hard punch.

There’s a hand on his arm again. The same soft, lightly gripping touch that Jethro was so quickly becoming familiar with. His head swung around, instantly catching your eyes. They were wide and worried; a bit frightened, but he couldn’t tell why you’d be afraid. He’d just taken care of the problem. “Let’s go, Mr. Gibbs. You should get that cut cleaned up.”

Cut? What cut?

It was then when Jethro remembering the throbbing ache of his cheekbone. And rest assured, when he raised a hand to touch it, his fingers came away red.

You started pulling him away toward the back of the bar before the bartender called out. “Hold on, little lady! Your man just caused a fight - the law’ll want to speak with him!”

With a huff, you turn back around. Jethro wasn’t aware you could look so mean, but the look on your face was nearly enough to make him go running for the hills. “I know you saw that big oaf swing the first punch. If anything, my man was only defending himself - and me! You wanna bother the law about something like this?”

Jethro watches the bartender grapple with his words before sighing and turning away back to his work. That’s when you continued pulling him along to one of the back rooms, grumbling about the no-good idiots in this place, but Jethro was only really focused on how you called him your man.

That drunken bastard must’ve hit him worse than he realized.

He’s silent as he watches you move to the washing basin, soaking a piece of cloth in the water. “Sit on the bed, please,” you tell him. A polite request spoken in a snipped voice, so Jethro doesn’t think twice to obey. And just as he sits, you’re approaching him.

“That was a very stupid thing you did,” you remark sternly. The cloth is cool, at least. It soothes the quickly-swelling bruise. But still, he’s bleeding. Jethro can’t help but wince when you have to rub harder.

You scoff at his wincing, not seeming to care. “I swear, you’re just as much a ruffian as any cowboy I’ve ever met. Are you in the habit of getting into fights over something so trivial?”

Getting into fights? Sure, he’s used to it. But Jethro wouldn’t call defending you to be trivial. Quite the opposite, in fact.

He doesn’t say so. He’s too focused on how gentle you are in cleaning him up. Perhaps gentle in a way he doesn’t deserve - you’re right, he is a no-good bar-fighting ruffian. It’s difficult to understand why you’re this gentle with him.

So Jethro watches your face, screwed up with tight brows and a flat frown. And he can’t help his own lips from quirking up. “Are you busy tomorrow?” He asks.

You stop, and your eyes flicker to meet his. Jethro could’ve sworn he’d seen your face flush. “Don’t change the subject, Mr. Gibbs.”

“I’m not attempting to,” he replies quickly. “In fact, I’m trying to stop something like this from happening again.”

You’re confused. Looking skeptical, but your head shakes slowly. “I’m having brunch with my mother tomorrow at noon. But after that, I’m available. Why do you ask?”

The quirk in his lips grows into a small smile. “Good. Meet me behind the old church on the south side of town after your brunch.”

A small sigh comes from your lungs as your hands fall away from his face. The blood must be cleaned up, but Jethro can’t even feel the throb of his swollen cheek. “Can I ask what for?” You prod on.

“I’m gonna teach you how to shoot a man who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

#ncis imagine #ncis reader insert #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #ncis x reader

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