#i forgot how incredibly hard it was for me to get anatomy right on the pc damn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fortheloveofwonderland · 3 years

Text

Sixty Six Percent [Spencer x fem! Reader]

A/N - This is for my “girls night out” square on my CM bingo card for @cmbingo, which you can find the masterlist for here. Also loosely based off this prompt I’ve been wanting to write for a while - Our best friends are that awful “cute” couple that make out in public and call each other “sweetie” and “sugar” and god they’re awful, let’s talk about how awful they are – develops into “oh we’re that awful couple now”. Includes some Galvez and is set circa season 14 ish. Bottom right image taken from Kirsten’s Instagram.

CW - not much really - just drinking and fluff.

In which girls night takes an unexpected turn when it coincides with boys night.

WC: 2.2K

Find my full Masterlist here.

Western’s bar in DC on a Friday night had been a must for girls night out. It was known for its cheap drinks, loud music and packed dance floor. Everything you and the girls were looking for.

When your closest friends worked for the FBI, arranging girls night was always a near impossible feat. You’d lost count of how many times Penelope, Emily, JJ and Tara had to bail on your plans because another case had come up.

You understood, you’d been best friends with Penelope for years now and you appreciated their schedules were hectic but you were always left downtrodden when they’d had to cancel again.

But finally after weeks of cancellations and rescheduling, tonight they had been free for girls night.

Shots were flowing and you all showed off your moves on the dance floor. You and Tara being the only single ones of the group danced with a few men but it was all harmless flirting, nothing serious.

You weren’t looking to take someone home tonight.

It was nearing midnight and you had all taken a break from dancing to rehydrate with vodka. You noticed Penelope’s eyes shift away from the girls across the room and her perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitted together.

“What is it, Pen?” You asked her, having to speak loudly to be heard over the music.

“We can’t just have one night.” She rolled her eyes but then her face broke out into a large smile. “Excuse me.” And with that she sauntered off.

Your gaze followed where she had gone to see her throwing herself into the arms of her boyfriend, Luke Alvez.

You chuckled to yourself, nudging Emily in the arm.

“They just can’t stay away from each other can they?” You laughed.

“It’s disgusting really.” Emily also laughed.

“Looks like they're having a boys night. We should probably go and say hi.” JJ shrugged.

“I suppose it would be rude not to.” Tara agreed.

The four of you followed in Penelope’s footsteps across the room. You’d met most of the team over the years thanks to Penelope and you said your hellos to Luke, Rossi and Matt.

The last man you came to had incredible hazel eyes, which even in the dim lighting of the bar you could see were flecked with gold. He had a light stubble on his cheeks and untamed curls you had a sudden desire to run your fingers through.

Spencer Reid, you assumed. You’d heard of him countless times but for whatever reason the two of you had never met. You got the impression he avoided social situations in lieu of more academic pursuits.

You’d heard stories of his time in prison and looking at him now it struck you that there was a hint of sadness in those hazel eyes and you assumed that must be why.

“You must be Spencer.” You smiled a little shyly at him. You had no idea he’d be so attractive. “I’m Y/N.”

He smiled at you but you noticed it was stifled. Like he knew the fact you knew his name meant you knew what had happened to him.

“Yes, I’m Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you Y/N, I can’t believe we’ve never met before.” Despite the sadness about him, his eyes seemed to sparkle as they looked at you and it made you feel hot under the collar.

“Me either.” You couldn’t help but beam, had Penelope been hiding him from you? He was just your type.

You turned to look at your friends briefly but were surprised to find them gone. Tara, Emily, JJ and Matt were now dancing in the middle of the floor while Rossi propped up the bar, sipping his single malt.

A few feet from where you were standing with Spencer, Luke and Penelope were swapping saliva in an extremely NC-17 fashion.

He had his hands on her voluptuous backside and her fingers were clawing at his shirt.

“Are they always like this?” You turned back to Spencer with a grimace.

He shrugged.

“Not always but often enough not to be phased by it anymore.” He chucked a little.

“Young love.” You laughed too.

“They’re actually pretty cute when they aren’t pushing the boundaries of public displays of affection.”

“Pen always refers to him as bunny, it makes me sick.” You laughed harder.

“Oh gosh.” Spencer pulled a face. “They flirt over the phone on cases all the time. It takes forever to get an answer out of Garcia because they have to flirt in every single call.”

“I bet he hasn’t described to you their sex life in graphic detail. Because Penelope has.” You shudder a little. “I know more about Luke’s anatomy than I ever needed to know.”

“That’s...that’s unfortunate.” Spencer laughed.

“Yeah that’s one way to put it.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” His smile was much less sad now, and more genuine as he looked at you. The way he was smiling at you made you feel weak.

“That would be really nice.” You nodded.

You followed Spencer to the bar where he ordered you both a drink and paid. He then led you over to a small booth away from the chaos where you sat next to him to allow you to be able to converse over the music. At least that’s what you told yourself.

It had nothing to do with the fact you wanted to be close to him. Absolutely nothing.

“One time we were on a case in Boston and I called Garcia and for whatever reason she thought I was Luke and she started graphically describing what she was going to do to me, Luke when I got home. It was...disturbing to say the least.”

“Oh wow. That sounds...horrible.” You laughed.

“I’ve not been able to properly look her in the eye since.” Spencer pulled a face.

“They are the definition of sickening. But they’re happy. I guess that’s all that matters.” You shrugged, sipping your drink. “They’re lucky, one night stands have never worked out that well for me.”

“No?” Spencer looked inquisitive. “I’ve never had one.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “I thought everyone had had at least one.”

“Statistically only sixty six percent of American’s have had a one night stand before.”

“I forgot Penelope told me you were a genius.” You laughed again. “That’s a surprisingly low number.”

“It’s still over two hundred and sixteen million people.” he didn’t even look as though he had to think to know something like that. You were impressed and felt slightly inadequate in comparison to him.

“Oh, in that case I suppose it is a lot.” you didn’t really know what you could say to that. “Can I ask why you’ve never had a one night stand?”

Spencer contemplated his answer this time. Facts and statistics rolled off his tongue but when he had to speak of personal things it often took him a moment to find the right thing to say.

“I suppose I’m a romantic at heart. One night stands seem kind of...disheartening to me. I’m not saying never but I’ve never felt the need thus far in my life.”

“See I don’t agree.” you turned in your seat so you could look at him properly. This close you could really see his incredible bone structure, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. You wanted to run your fingertips over the delicate curves of his face, kiss the stubble on his soft skin and make your way to those plump lips of his. “Being single is hard, especially when your best friend is Penelope who is and is all loved up with Alvez. One night stands provide a little solace from the loneliness I guess.” you shrugged, trying not to sound like you were throwing a pity party for yourself.

“But isn’t it just lonely all over again when it's over?” Spencer leaned closer to you and your eyes were fixated on his lips.

“I don’t know.” mirroring him, you leaned closer. “We could always find out.” you smirked at him. You had just met him and you knew being so brazenly flirtatious could be dangerous territory. But you’d gone all these years without ever crossing paths so you supposed if this went south and Spencer rebuffed you then avoiding him wouldn’t be that difficult.

His facial expression didn’t change so you had no idea what he was thinking or how he had taken your advances. He leaned even closer and your eyes were still locked on his lips.

“Are you asking me to come home with you Y/N?” his eyes were dark, lust perhaps?

“I’m asking you to join the sixty six percent Spencer.”

For a few long seconds neither of you moved or spoke. Spencer eyes fell over you, lingering longer on your lips. You shifted a little in your seat feeling hot under his intense gaze. He leaned even closer and you thought he was about to kiss you, but just as he inched towards you, a voice snapped you back to reality.

“Y/N there you are!” it was Emily. “And Spence, hey.”

“Hi Emily, what’s up?” you would never forgive her if she had gotten in the way of Spencer kissing you.

“Come and dance, it's girls night!” she tugged your arm, pulling you so you were on your feet.

Spencer shuffled out of the booth behind you. As Emily started dragging you towards the dancefloor, he came close to your ear and whispered “I’ll come and find you later.” and then he headed over towards Rossi who was still propping up the bar.

You danced with the girls for hours, even Penelope when she came up for air and pried herself away from Luke for more than a few seconds. The drinks kept flowing, laughter was aplenty; it was a great night all round. It had been worth waiting for.

Around three am you and the girls decided to call it night. You were a little tipsy and your feet hurt from all the dancing. You had lost track of Spencer earlier in the night, you were a little disappointed but it was probably for the best. A one night stand with your best friend's colleague would no doubt only end in disaster.

You said your goodbyes outside, hugs and cheek kisses were dished out and they all promised you would have another girls night as soon as their schedules allowed. You lived on the other side of town than the girls so you waved off their cab from the curb and awaited the next one. It wasn’t long before another cab pulled up and to your confusion the rear window rolled down as it came to a stop.

“Told you I’d find you later.” Spencer smiled at you from the backseat.

You tried to hide your blush as you slid in next to him.

“I thought you left.” you buckled yourself in and almost immediately Spencer took hold of your hand.

“Not without you.” he leaned closer and then his lips pressed against yours in the backseat of the cab and you felt your whole body turn to jelly at the sensation. He used his free hand to cup your face as he deepened the kiss.

You felt a jolt of electricity coarse through you, something you had never felt before. Your lips moved in such a synchronized fashion it was crazy to think you had never done this before. You felt as though you’d waited your entire life for this moment.

The kiss lasted a few minutes and when it ended you both panted slightly, trying to grasp at the air that had escaped your lungs. He kept his hand on your cheek, stroking small circles on your skin with his thumb.

“Are you ready to join the sixty six percent club Spencer?” you smirked at him in the dark.

He kissed you again, softly this time, more cautiously.

“I’m quite comfortable in the minority. And I already know I am not going to be able to settle for one night with you.”

Your heart melted at his words, and the loving look he was giving you. You squeezed his hand, kissing him once more.

“If you take me for breakfast in the morning, you can have as many nights as you like.” you winked at him which made him blush a little.

“I’m sure we can arrange that, my love.”

“Thirty four percent it is then.” you laughed, settling your head on Spencer’s shoulder. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed your head.

You would have to berate Penelope for not introducing you to Spencer sooner. But you might also need to cut her and Luke some slack, because you had a feeling you and Spencer were going to become an awful, cutesy couple just like them. But when it was happening to you, you didn’t mind so much. Maybe you’d even let Spencer call you bunny…

...On second thoughts, maybe not. Somethings would never change. You’d leave the cringey nicknames to Penelope and Luke. At least for now anyway. Tomorrow was another day.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #penelope garcia #luke alvez #emily prentiss #tara lewis #jennifer jareau #david rossi #matt simmons #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you

456 notes · View notes

221bshrlocked · 4 years

Text

That Southern Hospitality

Pairing: Clark Kent X Reader

Words: 8056 (wow this got out of hand)

Warnings: Awkward encounters. Flannel. Forearms. Smut. Dirty talk. Some kinks that might not apply to you including but not limited to hickies, size difference, age gap, flannel shirts, and finally, cum play (if that’s what it’s called). I’m on my period and I’m horny so leave me alone.

A/N: Listen I’m not sure what happened here. I was minding my own business one minute and the next thing I know, I’m writing this hella long fic because men in plaid shirts are the death of me (Adam Driver in Blackkklansman) but Clark Kent in a plaid shirt/flannel can rip me to pieces and I’d ask him if he could do it again. I know I have other stories to get to and finish, but I got the inspiration and motivation to write this and I decided it was better than not writing any fics at all. Enjoy this hell that is Henry Cavill inspired. This will be up on AO3 with gifs :) Let me know if my smut is still any good.

Two exams, three research papers, and a shit ton of unnecessary assignments, and here you were doing the laundry because how else would you deal with the stress of this hellish semester. You angrily shoved your second batch of clothes into the washer, occasionally looking at the laptop not too far from you in an attempt to memorize any details of the human chest anatomy. As you measured the bleach and poured it in the washer, you forgot what it was you were reciting in your head, turning to the diagram again and repeating the function of the thymus gland for god knows what time that day.

So busy with the laundry and making sure you don’t push your laptop over the table by accident, you didn’t notice when someone walked into the room until you stood up and grabbed your orange juice. As you were about to take a sip, you heard someone shuffle behind you before speaking.

“Do you mind if I-” The man didn’t get to finish his question, stepping back when he saw you jump in distress.

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, turning around and not watching where you were stepping as you tried to put space between the two of you. You fell to the floor, your heart hammering in fear before it beat against your chest in anger once you felt the sweet liquid spill all over your shirt.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t-” The man stepped forward and held out his hand to pull you up, his eyes unintentionally descending to your soaking shirt.

“Jesus Christ what the hell is wrong with you? Trying to give me a heart attack or something?” You took his hand and let him pull you up, grabbing the bottle and its cap before throwing it in the trash. Wiping your face, you were about to say something when you looked up and saw who it was standing with you. Your eyes widened in horror because of course it was the quiet hottie two floors down that had to see you in this rather horrendous circumstance.

“Believe me I thought you heard me when I walked in but I realized you were probably too invested in that diagram to notice me.” He pointed to your laptop, trying his hardest to avoid looking anywhere below your neck because he really didn’t want to get a boner in these sweatpants.

“S-sorry about the mess, I’ll clean it up and give you some space.” You smiled nervously at him and were about to move towards the sink when he beat you to it and pulled out some paper towels before placing them on the floor. “Please, let me.” He looked up, his jaws clenching tightly when his eyes saw two hardened peaks teasing him through your wet shirt. He swallowed the lump in his throat and wiped the floor, knowing very well you caught him staring at your chest. When you did finally follow his gaze and looked down, embarrassment washed over you and you quickly crossed your arms to hide yourself.

He stood up a moment later and reluctantly turned towards you before looking over to see if his laundry was done. When he saw the timer was down to zero, he blinked at your obvious nervousness, immediately unbuttoning his flannel and taking it off before stepping towards you. He could hear your elevated heart rate and felt bad for causing you so much discomfort. Whatever courage you had left was spent when you looked up at him, and boy did you wish you didn’t because you weren’t sure what was going to cause you to faint first, his cologne, the way his blue eyes dilated at seeing you, or how his chest expanded with each breath he took.

“I am sorry miss. Here, take this so you could finish your laundry.” He held out his flannel to you and watched as you thought it over before reluctantly grabbing it. Who even looked that good in just a wife beater and some old sweatpants?

“W-what about your laundry?” You questioned him, walking towards one of the corners and hoping he wouldn’t turn around as you changed out of your shirt. You could hear him walk away, the sound of the washer unlocking letting you know he was thankfully a few feet away and couldn’t possibly hear your heartbeat.

“It’s fine, you can keep that until you’re done.” He quickly took his clothes out of the washer and shoved them in his basket, deciding to fold them back in his place because he really didn’t know what he could do should he stay in the same room with you for another moment. By the time you turned around and grabbed your shirt to put it in the washer, he was just about done grabbing his clothes. And when he didn finally look at you, he lost whatever self control he had left, the handle of the basket breaking under his hold and causing you to blink at him.

You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. He looked inconvenienced with his tense jaw and the harsh grasp he had on his basket. But he also had this aura of kindness around him, like a gentle giant kind of vibe. “Wow that’s one hell of a flannel collection you got there.” You cringed at the words as soon as they left your lips but he surprisingly didn’t laugh at you. On the contrary, his shoulders relaxed before he smiled at you.

“I grew up on a farm,” he said nothing else and you weren’t sure why his answer made your stomach churn. So he was a lumberjack basically. A sweet, muscular, introverted lumberjack who for some odd reason, lives in the city.

“Thank you for this, it saved me going up four floors only to come back down again.” The flannel was long enough to be a dress and you nervously played with the long sleeves, not realizing that the more you touched the fabric, the harder he became in his sweatpants.

“It’s no trouble, miss.” He was about to walk away when you stepped to him and grabbed his arm to stop him, goosebumps erupting on your skin when you realized just how muscular he is. You immediately took your hand away and waited until he met your eyes before speaking again.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N.”

“I’m Clark.” He smiled and you watched as his incredibly fine, round ass walked away from you. When you were sure he went up the stairs, you swore quiet loudly as you pulled your phone out to call a friend. You couldn’t care less about school work or how you were standing in a stranger’s flannel that smelled way too fucking good. All you cared about was squealing like a teenage girl about the cute neighbor who didn’t miss a beat and offered his clothes because you had to make a complete fool out of yourself in front of him.

Unbeknownst to you, Clark could hear every single word you were saying about him, smiling at the prospect of someone your age gushing about him of all people, an average man who didn’t scream “friendly” to total strangers. Well, he wasn’t average but that didn’t matter. He folded his laundry and continued to eavesdrop on your call, not feeling an ounce of shame because you had so far called him “a greek god,” “a sexy farm boy,” and “a big softie.” Clark honestly wasn’t sure which of these was responsible for the raging hard-on he was suffering from and he didn’t really care because he could hear you compliment his scent to whoever you were on the phone with and he hated how vocal you were about your so-called “attraction” to him.

By the time you were finished with the phone call, you’d lost all hope of retaining any new information about the human body. Then again, if it were up to you, you could have studied his body. For science of course. All the time you were switching out your clothes and absent-mindedly scrolling through your notes, you couldn’t help but bring the flannel up to your nose, taking in deep breaths and relaxing as his musky scent hit your nostrils.

“Fucking hell he smells good.” You whispered to yourself, feeling the sudden urge to reach down and scratch that itch that’s been bothering you ever since he walked in. And you really were about to do it, had it not been for the drier letting you know your clothes are clean.

So much for wanting to get some studying done.

You collected your things and made your way up the stairs, halting at the second floor and looking at Clark’s door. It wasn’t that you were a stalker or anything. You just saw him a couple of times returning from work. Granted you’d stare at his ass for a few seconds but you didn’t purposely seek him out. You looked at your clothes and thought to just give him his flannel back but you immediately shook your head, ascending the stairs quickly before you changed your mind.

Clark was writing a new article when he heard your steps slow down and stop at the top of the stairs. He slowly stood up and approached the door, looking past the wood and watching as you silently debated on something before you thought against it and ran up the stairs. He smiled to himself, knowing he was right and that you wouldn’t return his plaid shirt just yet.

As soon as you got back to your apartment, you folded your clothes and paced around the empty living room. A heavy sigh made its way past your throat and you looked down at the shirt, wanting very much to relieve your stress but knowing there wasn’t time for that self-care session. You put the kettle on and decided to force yourself to get something done before the sun set. If you weren’t going to memorize that shit then you were certainly going to finish some of the other assignments.

Surprisingly, you managed to finish one of the research papers by eight and you lounged on your couch and listened to some jazz music as you wrote the discussion responses and questions for your other classes. You were happy that you’d only had the two research papers and the exams to study for. Rubbing your eyes, you managed to shut your laptop before rolling on the couch, staring out your curtains before taking a deep breath.

And that’s when it hit you.

It was such a stupid thought but for some reason, you genuinely believed you managed to finish all of this studying because of what you were wearing. You looked down at the shirt and pulled it to your nose for god knows what time that day, taking a deep breath before letting your mind wander to the little encounter from earlier.

You’ve had several crushes before but never like this. Not ones that made you feel peaceful at least. Maybe after this semester was over, you’d muster up the courage to ask him out. But what if he had someone already? How awkward would that be? Surely someone with his manners and looks had a girlfriend, a boyfriend even.

You didn’t dwell on that for too long, not wanting to grow sad at the prospect of missing your chances with a guy like him. You let your thoughts run over until you fell asleep, not realizing that Clark was also having a hard time riding his mind of you.

You hoped you could run into him again to avoid the awkward encounter of knocking on his door and giving him his shirt but that never happened. Somehow, you couldn’t get a sight of him for the rest of the week, which was strange considering how often you managed to get a glimpse of the man. And you noticed you’d started to stress out again when you realized his scent grew incredibly weak, the flannel no longer bringing you peace of mind as it has for the past few days.

There were only five days left and even though you had turned in all your research papers and taken one exam (and miraculously passed it), you still felt like shit. Five days to study for an exam should have been a Christmas gift compared to some of the schedules you had to deal with for the past two years, but you didn’t feel like studying and you hated that you knew what was keeping you from focusing.

You distracted yourself with numerous things, buying unnecessary clothes and accessories online and even calling your friend and asking her what show you could binge watch next.

“Fuck this shit,” you threw your pillow across the room and grabbed your phone, ordering some take out before pulling up all of your human anatomy notes in an attempt to study again. You looked around your apartment and saw the plaid shirt on the other end of the couch, rolling your eyes at the sudden need to wear it because if that meant you could focus even for a few minutes, you were definitely going to put it on.

A few minutes passed and you were still on the same diagram, swearing out loud when you heard the doorbell ring.

“Well that was quick,” you grabbed a five dollar bill to tip the driver, unlocking the door and pulling it harder than intended.

And then you forgot how to breathe for a second because shit shit shit Clark was standing in front of you and you were wearing his shirt and he was looking you up and down and fuck this was not okay. You silently cursed yourself because he was definitely going to think you were weird for wearing it when you had your own damn clothes.

“Hey,” was the only thing Clark managed to say because his neurons decided to misfire and not form a proper sentence. Goddamn his clothes looked so much better on you.

“H-hi.”

Clark cleared his throat and pretended he wasn’t gawking at you, holding out a few letters and waiting until you took them before he said anything else.

“These were in my box by accident. Sorry about that. I think a few of them might be late, I haven’t been here all week.” You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down before he pushed up his glasses and finally looked at you.

“Oh, thank you. Was it vacation week or something?” Of all the things you could have asked to not sound pathetically desperate, that should have been the last of them.

“Far from it, I was on an assignment and I had to go to Gotham to interview some businessman for the Daily Planet. Just got back.” He fixed the strap of his bag before shoving his hands in his pockets and such a simple gesture shouldn’t have made you drool but here you were.

“You’re a reporter?” Somehow, that made sense but it was weird to see someone who grew up on a farm come to the city and take the oddest job.

“Yeah.”

“That sounds nice.” You didn’t know what else to say, awkwardly shifting on your feet and hoping he’d continue the conversation for your sake.

“It is most of the time, but then you have to sit down with eccentric billionaires and then it’s not so fun anymore.” Clark remarked and he was struck with a soft chuckle that almost made him lose his balance.

“Let me guess, the infamous Bruce Wayne wasn’t as charming as everyone says he is.” You took a step forward and leaned against the door frame, noticing the way Clark stepped closer to you as well.

“How did you know?” Clark said with a hint of sarcasm and you shook your head before looking past him and silently cursing when you saw the delivery guy approaching you.

“I’ve got an order for Y/N.” The young man took one look at Clark before he knew it was best for him to just deliver the food and leave.

“Here, thank you so much.” You handed him the tip and smiled when he waved back at you.

“I’ll leave you to eat then,” Clark was about to walk away when you reached out and stopped him.

“Or you could come in? I ordered way too much food anyway.” You hoped you weren’t being too forward with him and let out a breath when he turned around and faced you.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not.” You said way too quickly to your liking but knew it was worth it when he sent you that dashing smile again. He walked in and set his bag down before following you to the living room.

“Make yourself at home,” you set down the food on the table in front of the couch before walking to the kitchen to grab a few plates and some drinks. When you walked back and handed him the beer to open until you brought out all the food, he raised an eyebrow at you and asked the question he’d been wanting to ask ever since he saw you.

“Are you old enough to be drinking this?” He asked jokingly and hoped you didn’t find his question too weird.

“Hey hey I’ll have you know I am not as young as I look.” You playfully raised your voice and watched as he held his hands up in defeat.

“Just want to make sure I’m not breaking the law or anything.”

“I’m about to turn 23 so relax.” You sat down next to him, shoving the laptop to the side and grabbing the beer from his hand before rolling your eyes at him.

“So you are as young as you look then!” Clark hoped his tone still held some playfulness because he didn’t want you to know how turned on he was because of the age gap. Not that he expected anything.

“I’m old enough…” You let the words hang in the air, pretending you were focusing on splitting the food evenly between the two of you. Clark narrowed his eyes at you before shifting them towards the bit of skin peaking through the buttons of his shirt.

Fuck, his shirt.

“Thanks for this, I definitely wouldn’t have bothered to cook for myself tonight.” He broke the silence, trying to think of anything but you wearing that shirt around the apartment. And he really didn’t want to picture you going to sleep in it.

“Of course, I gotta return a bit of that southern hospitality after all.” You took a bite of the food and were about to say something when he beat you to it.

“And here I was thinking you could have just returned the shirt.” Of all the things you thought he was going to say, that was definitely not one of them because as far as you knew, he was not a confrontational man.

“I- uhhh, I was going t-”

“Relax sweetheart, I’m just teasing.” You almost choked on the food when he winked at you and you hoped to the almighty he wasn’t just pulling your leg. If your friend was here, she would have probably told you to play hard to get. But you were tired, and you didn’t think Clark was the kind of guy to enjoy that. He was older than you after all and he probably didn’t enjoy that childish behavior.

“Honestly, your shirt managed to help me with my stress.” When he said nothing and continued to stare at you, you decided you should probably apologize. “Sorry that sounded weird. Here I am being super creepy when you were just being nice. Probably don’t need this drama anyway.” You moved to get up and were about to head toward your room when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and pull you back down.

“Don’t. You’re being honest. It’s a breath of fresh air actually.” You weren’t sure what made your heart race, the way he was looking at you or the warm fingers he had still wrapped around your wrist. You smiled all the same, nodding awkwardly before reaching for your laptop. You touched the mouse bar so the screen didn’t sleep and turned your attention to Clark again.

“Still studying the anatomy?” Clark pointed to the screen, finishing up his food and thanking you for it before standing up to throw away the empty boxes.

“I actually stopped studying for it this past week. Had other more important assignments and exams to finish. You sure you don’t want any more?” You closed the two other boxes and followed him to the kitchen, placing the boxes in the fridge before grabbing the plates and forks to place in the sink.

“I’m good thank you. When is this exam then?” He stood at the sink and folded his sleeves, the action not going unnoticed by you. When you looked up and saw that he was staring at you, you cleared your throat and went to the table to clean the rest of the things.

“It’s in five days and I really couldn’t care less because if I have to memorize one more fucking muscle, I’m going to lose my shit.” Clearing away everything, you washed your hands as well and followed him back to the couch, pretending you weren’t checking out his thighs that were currently spread out across his seat. Fuck he looked good.

“Maybe I can help with that.” Clark said before he could think twice about the bizarre idea

“How? Do you secretly know Professor Stevens and could talk to him for me so I don’t have to take the exam?” You jokingly asked, scrolling through the powerpoint to try and see which group you had to study next. When you didn’t hear a response and looked up, you saw Clark staring at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite understand.

“I sadly don’t know Professor Stevens, but I’ve heard that it’s easier to study these things when you have a real life example to map out.” There wasn’t an inch of hesitance in his words and Clark was finding it very hard to keep a straight face when you looked so flustered.

“Is this where you tell me you’re secretly a serial killer and I’m about to become one of your cadevers?” You tried to diffuse the sudden tension growing between you two but Clark never once dropped his gaze, setting his beer down on the table before standing up and rolling down his sleeves.

“No, but I am a willing participant and I will gladly be your example.” He didn’t give you a chance to respond, pulling his blue and green plaid shirt out of his jeans before unbuttoning the front, all the while making sure you never looked away.

By the time he was finished, you could feel how soaked your panties were and you hoped he didn’t notice you shift in your seat. When he smiled, you knew he did.

“Oh,” you whispered when he opened his shirt and took it off, leaving him in the wife beater and tight, dark jeans. You took a deep breath to try and relax your mind but then he pulled the white material out of his jeans in one swift move and you were left staring at his incredibly muscular, slightly hairy chest that had you wanting to jump his bones right away.

He sat down again, this time much closer to you. You cleared your throat before turning to your laptop and scrolling to the diagram about the bones, looking it over before facing Clark again and silently asking him if you could move closer. When he raised an eyebrow and nodded at you, you cleared your throat before taking his arm and pulling it on your lap.

You should’ve known it would be heavy considering how muscular he was but nothing prepared you for how soft his arm would be, even with all the hair. This was not the time to be horny and yet here you were, wanting to do something else with his fingers.

Softly, you took his hand and rested it on your lap, tracing his fingers as you called out the different bones on the limb. “Phalanges…metacarpals…c-carpals.” You spent a little bit longer on his wrist, turning it up before softly passing over the veins of his arms. When you realized you weren’t actually moving over the bones, you blinked rapidly before continuing to his arm. His arm was now rating completely on your lap and although his hand was facing the ceiling, you couldn’t help but feel like he was purposely making sure he was touching the skin of your thighs.

Dismissing the wild thought, you applied pressure with one hand on his ulna while the other passed over the hair of his arm and mirrored your actions but on his radius. When you looked up, you saw Clark’s piercing blue eyes staring into yours, not bothering to hide his obvious fascination with your lips before looking down to where you were touching him. You swallowed the lump in your throat before moving your hand to the humerus, not bothering to linger on his arm because you knew very well which bones that was.

Before you could convince yourself not to, you decided the hell with being appropriate, hands continuing their journey up to his shoulders before lingering over the clavicle, finding it incredibly sexy because it was protruding. And when your other hand moved to his chest and splayed across the center, you made sure to never look away from his suddenly dilated pupils, pushing on the hard center and whispering “sternum.”

“You’re doing pretty well darling…don’t know why you’re worried about this exam.” Clark’s jaw was tense and you knew he was as affected by you as you were by him.

“I’m more worried about muscle groups if I’m being honest.” You replied breathlessly, not expecting him to reach over and pull you on his lap. You gasped before settling down on him, not bothering to be sly when you moved your hips and found him hard beneath you.

“Get up close and personal Y/N, I don’t mind.” Clark smiled when you grabbed his arm and brought it close to you again, tracing the forearm and whispering the muscles as you touched each of them. “Flexor carpi ulnaris…E-extensor carpi radialis longus…ah fuck.” You couldn’t take it anymore, swearing when you felt his other hand grasp your thighs and squeeze them.

“Focus,” he dared to warn you, chuckling when you narrowed your eyes at him in warning.

You continued to move your fingers on his arm, no longer shying away from feeling him up a bit more. As soon as you reached his biceps and named the muscle, Clark was flexing beneath you, the small reflex turning you on way more than it should have. You lingered on his biceps a bit more than you should have and Clark noticed, the fingers of the arm you were studying wrapping around your upper arm before jerking you in his arms.

“I said focus.” His tone was dangerous and you couldn’t help the little drag you took across his thighs. Clark looked down at you before raising his eyebrows, his chest expanding with pride because your self-control was slipping just as his.

“D-deltoid,” you passed over his shoulders before finally reaching where you’ve wanted to touch him for so long. As soon as you placed both of your hands over his chest and whispered “pectoralis,” Clark was wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him, lips crashing against yours so aggressively you almost thought you broke your teeth. He was hungry to touch you, his arms not letting up once as he devoured your mouth. When you tried to pull away to breathe, Clark moaned against you, fingers pushing the back of your head towards him so he could suck on your tongue.

A few seconds later, he finally realized the two of you needed to breathe, letting go before continuing his attack down your neck. You found yourself pushing your body to him, sighing and moaning when you felt his teeth nip and suck on whatever skin he had access to.

“Jesus fucking Christ, do you have…any idea, how sexy you look in my shirt?” He paused in between words to kiss your neck before deciding he wanted your mouth again. You didn’t have much choice, giving yourself over to him and not bothering to attempt to have any control of the man beneath you. To say you were surprised by how needy and bold he suddenly was would have been the understatement of the century.

“God damn baby, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you last week. Not when you looked so embarrassed with these pretty tits begging me to get an eyeful of’em.” He leaned down and bit you through the shirt, not caring how ridiculous he probably looked.

“Ohh Clark…please.” You weren’t sure what it was you were begging him for and you couldn’t care less.

“What do you want darling? I’ll give you anything you want. You’ve been such a good little sweetheart, wearin’ my shirt all week long. Were you Y/N?” You didn’t realize he was asking a question until he pulled away and lightly smacked your ass, begging you to answer him.

“Wh-what?”

“I asked, were you wearin’ my shirt all week?”

“Oh god fuck, yes. Yes I was.” You tried to get out of his grasp to touch him but he didn’t let you, teh vice grip he had around your waist letting you know he wasn’t planning on letting up anytime soon.

“Such a pretty darling. Tell me Y/N, why didn’t you give it to me when you were done?” Before you could answer him, Clark was maneuvering you around, and for some reason, you were still surprised by the sheer power this man had because he handled you as if you weighed nothing. You found yourself buried under the hunk of flesh, and although you should have felt somewhat claustrophobic, you didn’t. On the contrary, you felt safe surrounded by him.

“I- it’s going to sound stupid.” You tried to distract him because you were afraid he’d think you were weird.

“Please, baby. Tell me.” The man cooed in your ears and you were amazed by how soft he was being when a moment ago, he was just about ready to devour you.

“Y-you smell nice…your cologne, it helped me get work done. A-and I slept better when I wore it. Made me feel safe.” You couldn’t look at him, not wanting to drive him away by your obsession. You did only meet a week ago.

You took his silence for disgust and were about to push him away when he crushed you with his weight, stopping all thoughts of wanting to get away from him.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re going to be the death of me.” As soon as you looked into his eyes, Clark was pushing you further into the couch, his lips savoring every inch of your own, biting and engulfing them like a madman.

“Shouldn’t have gone to Gotham. Should’ve stayed here and tried to ask you out.” He was babbling nonsense, taking both of your hands in his and raising him high above your head.

“Oh god Clark…”

“Have dinner with me baby?”

“Yes anything. I’ll do anything you want me to do…j-just don’t stop. Please don’t stah-ahh,” you screamed in surprise when you heard buttons clattering across the floor, looking down at the ruined shirt before attempting to focus on Clark.

He was smiling devilishly at you, maintaining eye contact as he ripped the rest of the shirt before giving your newly exposed skin some attention. The man somehow was becoming sexier by the second and you had a feeling tonight would be a night you’d never forget.

He kissed up your stomach, licking the valley between your breasts before winking at you. Before you could beg him to not do the same with your bra, he was already ripping it in half, not bothering with your little whines as he attacked your nipples. You were a moaning mess beneath him, his name like a prayer on your lips as he sucked and bit and pinched your hardened peaks.

Clark continued his assault on you, not caring that you were shaking in his arms at this point. You were torn between looking down at him and throwing your head back to enjoy the sensations coursing through you. He moaned and growled as he sucked and pinched your nipples harder, occasionally jutting his hips and showing you just how much he wanted to have you.

It was so little, crept up on you without you noticing. Almost as if it was forced out of you. At a particular thrust of his hips, you were arching your back and pushing your breasts into his face, swearing and screaming his name until he slowly eased you down from your little high.

“Did…did you just-” Clark didn’t move a muscle, his cock finally catching up with his brain because did he just make you come without even touching your pussy?

“C-clark.” You sighed his name, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes when you suddenly realized what just happened.

Before you could attempt an apology at how pathetic your body was, Clark was sitting up and trying to take his pants off. When you saw him fumbling through the simplest of tasks, you felt heated and proud to have made this man a mess, unbuckling his belt and throwing it away before pushing down the zipper and trying to kick his pants down. He barely managed to take off his shoes and socks, marveling at how soft and warm your hands were against his skin as you dragged his jeans down his legs.

“I need you, please. I need you inside me Clark. Now.” You begged insistently, no longer bothered by how needy this man made you. He nodded frantically and was about to pull down his boxer briefs when he remembered something. You watched him look around for something, furrowing your eyebrows at him before you realized what it was he wanted. “On the pill.” You half-yelled at him, not wanting to waste anymore time because you were so close to finally having him. He nodded at you and quickly got rid of his boxers, standing up and watching as your facial expression hardened and fear washed over your skin.

“Oh fuck,” you swore louder than you intended, eyes shifting from his leaking cock to his face. How the hell were you going to fit that in you?

“Shit, baby don’t look at me like that. W-we can stop. I could just-” Clark tried to slow down, not wanting to hurt or even scare you in any way.

“You kidding me? I’ve only been thinking about you fucking me senseless ever since I saw you. You’ll fit, it’ll be tight but y-you’ll fit. Just- just be gentle…go slow.” Your words slowed down as you became less and less positive that he was, in fact, going to fit his cock inside you and you watched as it twitched between his legs with every comment you said.

“Fuck, don’t say things like that darling.” Clark was slowly losing himself in you, but he really didn’t want to let that affect him in any other way. He leaned down slowly, pulling you up until you were standing on one foot before turning you around in his arms and laying back on the couch with you on top of him.

“Come here Y/N.” He whispered in your ears, wanting to feel your weight on top of him to remind him of how fragile you were in his arms.

“Clark, I-” You turned your head to try and look at him, shutting your eyes when you felt his hands roaming your body.

“Shhh sweetheart I got you. I’ll go slow, won’t even hurt you. But you have to promise that, ah fuck, i-if you do feel like you can’t do this, tell me. Don’t wanna lose you Y/N.” You weren’t sure what made you shudder, how kind he was even when he was painfully hard, or how he was making sure to let you know this wasn't just sex for him.

You nodded against him, spreading your legs across his thighs and looking down to see where his hands stopped. He made small circles around the outer lips of your pussy, groaning in your ears when he felt how wet and hot you were for him.

“Ready for me?” Clark reluctantly asked, waiting until you hummed your approval before grabbing his cock and inching the leaking tip into your pussy. He stopped moving when he felt you throw your head back against him, about to ask you if it was too much when you grabbed his hand and moved it towards your center, where you were joined.

“F-fuck ahh Clark, y-you can keep going.” You barely managed to say to him, focusing on your lower muscles and trying to loosen up a bit to get used to him. Clark on the other hand was having a hard time, in more ways than one, trying to not shove his dick all the way inside of you. But when he heard your little plea, he couldn’t deny you anything, thrusting up into you and waiting until you adjusted to him stretching you out before moving again.

Within minutes, you were a mess above him, repeating his name over and over as you felt his cock reach so deep inside you while his hand circled around your clit.

“Fucking hell Y/N, you’re so tight. So warm and tight…such a good darling aren’t you?” He whispered words of encouragement in your ears, continuing to slowly buck his hips up into you as his hands touched your skin.

“Clark, you feel so good…stretching me out like no one else. I- oh god ohh my god yes right there, I’ve never had big cock like you before.” You were sure he was going to split you in half and the thought of him destroying you made you even wetter. You could hear him pushing in and out of you, your juices letting him slide in easier than a few minutes before.

“Yeah baby just like that, keep taking my cock. You’re so good to me darling…made for me. Could spend hours inside you Y/N, if you only let me.” Clark kissed your shoulders before biting and sucking red marks across your neck, wanting to touch you anywhere he could reach.

You finally managed to turn your head around enough to look at him, forcing your eyes to open and gasping when you could barely make out the blue of his orbs. You leaned down and kissed him, holding onto the hand snaked around your thighs and pleasuring you before you felt a different kind of heat spread inside you.

Clark came with a growl, holding you down to him as he continued to fuck you. You fisted your hands around the couch, shaking in his arms when you felt him harden even more inside you.

“Clark, you…did you-”

“Please baby, can I keep fucking you? Please, you feel like heaven.” You were sure you died and went to a different reality because this man did not have a refractory period and was probably going to be the death of you.

“Yes, fuck, yes okay just- I need to look at you, touch you, move with you.”

“Shit yeah alright I can do that, let me.” Clark slowly sat up, pulling you off of him and wincing when the cold air hit his skin. He didn’t give you a chance to get used to being empty, immediately pulling you onto his lap and lowering you down on his still hard cock before leaning up to kiss you. You hissed at the stretch again, distracting yourself with his lips and the flexing muscles beneath your hands to not think of how deep he was reaching inside of you.

Supporting your weight on him, you started riding him at a slightly quicker pace, wanting to come on his cock just once before he continued to use you to get off.

“Come on Y/N, want to feel this pretty little cunt come ‘round me. Please darling, will you give me that? Will you come around me? So..f-fucking good,” Clark reached around and grabbed your ass, finding it incredibly sexy that you were scratching his chest to release some of that tension you felt from having him stretch you out.

Hearing him begging you to come around him was probably what had done it.. Or perhaps it was the way his muscles rippled beneath you each time you sought out his skin for support. It didn’t matter in the end because Clark fucked you through your orgasm, whispering nonsensical things in your ears and waiting until you returned to your senses before he asked you a question.

He remained motionless to not distract you, pulling you to his chest to kiss you again before nuding you to answer him.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom?” Clark asked, perhaps the third or fourth time, chuckling against you when you just nodded and wrapped your limbs around him. He carefully stood up, refusing to pull out while trying to not hurt you and push in any further. You didn’t show any sign of discomfort when he stood to his full height, slowly walking around the table towards the only hallway in the apartment.

When he did get to your room, he wrapped his arms around your back and made sure to lay down on the bed without breaking the hazy spell you were under. When he was sure you were comfortable, he supported his weight on his arms and pulled away from your neck to get a better look at you.

He found you smiling and staring back at him, hands moving his sweaty hair away from his handsome face while the other one still held onto his arms.

“Clark.” The way you said his name twisted something in his stomach and he knew that he couldn’t possibly go on without telling you his secret. He didn’t want to risk putting your life in danger, but something told him you’d be willing to take that chance for him. At least he hoped he was worth it to you.

“Y/N, I-”

“Please, move…let me make you feel good baby.” You cut him off, knowing he was probably trying to say something that didn’t need to be addressed anytime soon.

And my god, when he did start thrusting into you again, it was like you found the answer to a question you never knew you had. He was so gentle, kissing you everywhere and smiling when he saw the dazed expression aimed at him. He continued to whisper sweet things in your ear, occasionally pinching your nipples or rubbing your clit with his navel.

You arched your back against him, feeling the familiar tug in your lower stomach but wanting to wait until he came with you. You could tell Clark was chasing after his orgasm because his grunts grew louder and his rhythm faltered. His arms moved from caging you in to grabbing your neck and pushing you up to him so he could kiss you. In the end, it was his neediness that pushed you over the edge, crying out his name as you felt him thrust into you one, two, three times before you felt the familiar heat fill your insides.

Had you had one functioning neuron, you would have marveled at how much more he came the second time around. But you didn’t.

The both of you stayed wrapped around each other until Clark realized that should he stay inside you any longer, he would probably go for round three, and the last thing he wanted was to freak you out by how long he could go.

When he finally forced himself to pull out, he swore under his breath at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and before he could stop himself, he was pushing his cum back into your cunt, smirking with pride when your legs shook and you winced at the thick fingers pushing in and out of you.

Clark, however, was surprised when he didn pull his fingers out and watched as you grabbed his wrist and pulled the two digits into your mouth, never losing eye contact as you licked and sucked his fingers till they were clean.

“You’re going to be the death of me Y/N.” Clark smiled before falling to the side and wrapping his arms around you. You sighed happily, looking up at him as you traced shapes around his chest.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” Clark asked to make sure you weren’t feeling any discomfort.

“Pretty sure I won’t be able to walk for the next few days but fuck me it was worth it.”

“Careful what you wish for Y/N.” Clark warned and you laughed against him before you snuggled into his embrace.

A few minutes passed in silence before you realized you needed to ask him what’s been on your mind ever since he walked into your apartment.

“You aren’t put off by my age are you?” Clark looked quizzically at you before pushing up to his elbows, making sure you knew he was giving you his undivided attention. You continued to play with his chest hair, refusing to look at him when you elaborated. “I just know that…well, sometimes, older guys don’t take younger girls too seriously and..what I wanted to tell you was-”

“This wasn’t just sex to me Y/N. I want to go on dates with you. I want to take you out to galas we have at work. I want to help you out when you’re too stressed or when you need to vent about something. I want to be here with you. If anything, I feel like you deserve someone your age.” Clark combed back your hair, taking the hand on his chest and bringing it to his lips before kissing it over and over again.

“I don’t think I can find anyone my age that’ll make me feel as safe as you make me.” Clark would never get used to hearing you admit you feel safe with him. It did something to him knowing you weren’t one to shy away from vocalizing your thoughts and emotions.

“You mean you won’t find a guy who’ll let you steal his shirts and walk around with them.” You punched his chest and allowed yourself to breathe again because now that you got this off your chest, you could be sort of normal again.

Clark was about to say something when he felt you trace his skin again, the hairs on his arms feeling standing up at your obvious attraction to him. He wasn’t a vain man, far from it, but he felt happy that you were pleased with him.

“Don’t tempt me sweetheart.”

“What? I’m just reviewing for the exam. You don’t want me to fail do you?” You asked playfully, hoping to god he didn’t feel weird by how much you wanted to touch him.

“By all means, review.” Clark laid his head over his arms, flexing the muscles you were currently “studying” before looking down and raising an eyebrow at you. “But I’m not responsible for what’s to follow.”

“Is that a promise or a warning?”

In the blink of an eye, Clark was shoving himself between your legs, shamelessly rolling his hips against your wet core and not caring that you probably needed some rest before you went for it again.

“It’s just my southern hospitality darling.”

#clark kent x reader #superman x reader #clark kent #henry cavill #man of steel #dc #justice league #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent smut #DC smut #dc universe #that southern hospitality #henry cavill x reader

4K notes · View notes

ivergroves · 3 years

Text

From a young age Snufkin knew he wasn't a girl, knew that his body wasn't quite right if it made everyone think he was a girl, eventually he couldn't bear it anymore and came crying to Moominmamma. The big moomin held him in her arms, smoothing down his fluffy hair to sooth him and rocking in her chair.

"What is it, my dear? What has you so upset?"

The poor little mymrik's face was all wet from his tears and some of his hair was sticking to his face. He didn't typically show it when he was distressed, but this was super serious to him.

"Oh Moominmamma, I don't know what's wrong with me! I'm not a girl, but you all think that I am! I don't want you to think I'm a girl, I'm a boy Moominmamma! I'm a boy!" He wasn't angry, he was just incredibly upset with the situation. It wasn't a situation the moomin was familiar with, but it didn't seem too difficult to fix. She kissed his forehead and hummed thoughtfully.

"Well, it will definitely help now that you've told me, darling. Why have you never said anything about it?"

Snufkin wiped his eyes and sniffled "I thought maybe everyone would figure it out without me having to say anything. I didn't know I would have to say it."

Moominmamma helped him wipe his tears and took him to wash up his face with a warm wet rag. "Well now that you've told me, the issue will be resolved. I will make sure to tell Pappa, Sniff and Moomin unless you want to tell them yourself. Oh, and was there another name you'd like to be called? I don't think anyone else has the name Snufkin, so I don't think it would affect anybody's view of you."

He shook his head "There's nothing wrong with my name. I like my name." He said, giving Moominmamma a tired smile. She smiled back at him, scooping him up in her arms and going back out to her chair where they were soon joined by Moomin who she scooped up in her other arm.

"Oh hello Moomin, dear. What woke you?" Mamma asked, smiling as the two almost instantly curled up together.

"Snufkin being gone did, mamma. I heard crying and I saw that she was gone and- What's the matter, Snufkin?" The little moomin didn't know what he'd done, but Snufkin suddenly looked very upset again.

"Well, Moomin, he's just told me that he's a boy and we've had it wrong this whole time. I think you may have hurt his feelings just now, dear."

Moomintroll frowned and buried his snout in Snufkin's hair. "Oh Snufkin, I'm so sorry! Why didn't you tell me?" The gesture was reciprocated by Snufkin pressing his face into the moomin's fluffy neck.

"I thought maybe you would figure it out! Or maybe you wouldn't like me anymore if you found out, and I don't want you to not like me anymore."

Moomin pulled back from him, a shocked look on his face. "Why would that change me liking you? You're my favoritest person in the whole world! Nothing will ever ever change that. Especially not you being a boy." He laughed, rubbing his nose against Snufkin's.

As time went on, things got better, everyone was fairly good about things. Even Moominpappa, who was fairly stubborn and ignorant about everything, got used to it eventually. But then things got bad again as his body and voice started to change. Strangers would call him a girl even more often, and he couldn't stand it. In a fit of rage, he cut off his back length curly hair down to where it barely passed his ears. He thought he'd regret it later, but he actually had grown quite fond of it. He'd also started wearing baggier clothes, but he didn't know what to do beyond that.

On one of their adventures they met Snorkmaiden, who Snufkin was quite silently jealous of at first, as Moomin would often go out of his way to impress her, but one day the two of them ended up being the only ones awake so Snufkin settled for playing with her. She wasn't actually all that bad when Moomin wasn't around flirting with her. Suddenly she seemed upset and started anxiously fiddling with the end of her tail.

"Snufkin, do you think they've noticed that I'm not..that I don't have the right body?"

Snufkin was confused.

"What do you mean?"

She tilted her head at him "I'm like you! Well, except the other way. I'm a girl, but people don't understand that I'm a girl because I don't look enough like a girl snork, or sound enough like one. I've been seeing this nice lady that helps me with it, but sometimes I'm worried it won't be enough."

Snufkin hadn't even noticed anything off, but he also didn't know snork anatomy or assume anything about anyone. He felt comforted by her confiding in him with this information though. "Even if they have noticed, I don't think it matters to them. They like you no matter the body mix-up." He said, making her laugh and smile. She relaxed again and laid back in the flowers, turning her head to look at him.

"You know, I thought you didn't like me. You always seem upset when I'm around."

Snufkin blushed and looked away. Gods this was embarrassing.

"Well- It's- I- Okay. It's just..Moomintroll is always so..show offey in front of you. I don't know why it makes me so upset, but it's like I'm not his favorite person anymore! I guess that's fine if that's how he feels but.." He sighed, his ears drooping. The snorkmaiden gave him a sympathetic look, looking away for a moment before looking back at him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't realize...I didn't realize that you were in love with him."

Snufkin turned to look at her so fast he nearly fell. His face was burning red. He hadn't realized it until this moment but she was absolutely right. He was in love with him. He let himself collapse against the wildflowers and clutch the chest of his shirt with his paw.

"Oh goodness I'm in love with him…"

Snorkmaiden looked very confused. "You mean you didn't know you were in love with him?"

Snufkin shook his head "I guess I never really thought about it that hard before...But um, it's okay if he loves you. It may be better even. I know how hard it is on him when I leave, it would only be worse if he loved me."

Years passed and feelings only grew, but he said nothing of them to Moomintroll. Not even when he came in so fast for an embrace he nearly knocked Snufkin over on his first day back that Spring. He was so excited to see them he'd almost forgotten to show them something very important. He waited for the perfect moment at dinner that night to reveal his fresh pair of scars right under his pectorals, and how smooth it was now compared to the lumps that had laid there before.

Everyone was very happy for him and that only made his heart more full, but he still didn't say anything about his feelings. Not even when he and Moomin laid together in his tent that night and the moomintroll traced his scars with his soft furry fingers. Not even when he could have sworn he saw Moomin think about leaning in for a kiss but look away before anything could happen. Not even when the furry beast held him as they went to sleep, or when he was reluctant to part with him in the morning.

He couldn't. It wasn't even just for Moomintroll's sake now, it was for his own too. He could never have the alone time he desired if he desired his dear friend so much more. He hoped one day it would just go away so that they could live on with their lives without the heartache.

Even more time passed, and today he was sure it was the day he had to let go, but his feelings were stronger than ever, making things a bit difficult. It didn't matter though. Moomin had gone and Snufkin didn't know where to, and he must not have cared if he hadn't left a note, so he supposed he was leaving Moominvalley for good this time. But as he finally started to go, Toffle called him over from the coastline about a boat approaching and the sprint he broke into was involuntary.

At first he didn't see what Toffle was talking about and was fairly disappointed, but sure enough, there it was. The Adventure in all her glory, with a singular Moomin aboard and Snufkin knew it was him. He dropped his bag and hat on the grass and ran out to meet him as soon as he was docked, tears forming in his eyes. He gasped and laughed as the moomintroll picked him up and spun him around a few times, causing them to nearly lose balance when he set him back down.

"I'm so sorry I didn't say anything, I didn't know where you were or if I'd see you again before you left, and I was so focused on trying to make Snorkmaiden happy that I totally forgot to write you a note and-" Moomin was cut off by Snufkin suddenly bursting into tears, which was definitely not something he did unless it was a super big deal. "Oh no don't cry-"

"I thought I was never going to see you again! I didn't even know where to look for you and- I thought I was never going to have a chance to tell you that I love you and I would travel alone for the rest of my days."

Moomin held his face in his paws and blushed "Oh I'm so so sorry! I promise I'll never make you feel so helpless again for as long as I'm alive. Oh Snufkin, I've loved you forever, how could you not know that?" He crooned, his tail sticking straight up when his friend kissed him, but it was almost instantly reciprocated. This was it. The moment their lives this far had been leading up to. From that day on there would be no more silent tension, they would finally get to fully enjoy each other's company without overthinking about how the other may not feel the same way, because they knew. From now on, things would be just perfect.

(Or would they? Because perfect doesn't exist and every relationship has conflict even if it's just friendly arguments over silky things, but they're happy. I need to write my whole au and actually develop the story more, but it will exist eventually. Also this took like a minute to write please appreciate it. Also mymrik is my word for the hybrid that he is and either Jox or Mymble named him idk but he had a note with him that was just his name. Not canon, just canon in my stories.)

100 notes · View notes

wagner-fell · 3 years

Text

I am still very new to this website and I don’t know how link a post but this fic is based on a post by @sandersgrey

(If someone reading this knows how to link a post please either explain it to me or link it in the comments because that post is *amazing*)

“Hmmm,” said Tessa, depositing Mina into Kit’s waiting arms and examining her buzzing phone critically. She shot a quizzical look in his direction.

Jem looked up from his novel. “What is ‘hmmm’, my love?”

Kit mimed vomiting but stopped dead in his tracks when she replied, “it’s Astrid’s mother. You remember her from parent teacher night, don’t you, my darling?” Kit swears they were being extra insufferable just to mess with him but he didn’t have the time to be annoyed when Astrid’s. Mom. Was. Calling. Tessa.

To understand why Kit was panicking as much as he was, you must know that Astrid’s mom was incredibly chill. She never got mad. The worst punishment she’d ever given her daughter was taking away her iPod for a week so she couldn’t listen to Mitski.

Was she calling about last night when Astrid, Mari and Kit threw eggs at the Shadowhunter’s that were giving Mari’s pack a hard time for no reason? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d given them the eggs.

Could the call be about the day before yesterday when Kit and Astrid got distracted doing homework and ended up snapping the coffee table clean in half while battling gladiator style with pool noodles? No, that wasn’t it. She’d just handed Astrid a twenty and told them to go to Kevin’s parents' shop and get a new one. Was she pissed because they ended up spending the money on ice cream instead? No, they ended up finding a table for free in the rubbing bin outside a fancy hotel.

Kit clutched his sister to his chest and prepared for the worst.

“Seo-yoon! What can I do for- Oh, hello Astrid!” Tessa paused briefly, presumably to listen to Astrid speak, and Kit sighed in relief.

“Kit is occupied at the moment but I can relay the message.” Another pause. “Oh don’t be frightened of me. I’m a tots rad mom. Your secret is safe with me.” Kit felt his face flush red as he heard his best friend’s laughter echo across the living room. “Okay! I’ll let him know. He has to get Mina to sleep before he can leave though. Lord knows he’s the only one who can these days.” Tessa chuckled at something Astrid said before wishing her good luck in her endeavour and ending the call.

She turned her attention back to Kit. “Astrid needs your help breaking into your teacher’s home to retrieve her cell phone.”

Kit blinked at her, dumbfounded. “You aren’t mad I’m going to go break the law?”

Because of course he was doing it. Astrid’s dad had bought it for her and he was extremely cautious about money. That was one of three things Kit knew about her dad. He was cheap, he lived in America and he loved the movie Fight Club.

Tessa ruffled Kit’s hair affectionately. “Please. I’ve raised two other Herondales. At least I know about this particular adventure beforehand.”

Mina began snoring softly and Kit handed her back to her mother. He grabbed his bag and started his journey to the door when Tessa added, “she also told me to say hi to a ‘daddy Kit’. Are you ‘daddy Kit?’”

‘Daddy Kit’ closed his eyes and wished for the sweet release of death.

“Why is Kit a daddy,” Jem asked, genuinely confused. “Aren’t I the daddy?”

Kit swung the door open so fast not even a speed rune could have aided him. But not before I heard Tessa reply, “Lily Chen certainly thinks so.”

Mrs. MacNamara clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we all go around and say a few things about ourselves?”

Kit buried his face into his hands. He’d been relieved when no other teacher had fulfilled the Disney channel stereotype of making every student introduce themselves to the new kid. But Mrs. MacNamara didn’t even seem to realize what she was doing.

All Kit’s fellow classmates groan. Expect one. Her hand shot up immediately. She was short, like smaller than Clary short. She wore a baggy pink shirt with the words ‘Queen Glimmer of Etheria’ sewed on with purple sequins and tight black jeans. Her colourful, choppy hair was in a low ponytail and she flew a few strands out of her eyes as her hand wiggled in the hair.

Mrs. MacNamara pointed at her. She stood up and smiled at Kit. “Hi. My name is Astrid. My hobbies include making my little cousin’s girl Barbies kiss, as it should be, and watching television shows where everyone is a terrible person so you can love all of them!”

“And what shows might that be?” asked Kit, already in the process of pulling out his phone and opening the Notes app.

“Grey’s Anatomy, Glee, Grey’s Anatomy again because it’s seventeen seasons as of right now. And to be fair it practically became a different show when they killed off Mark Sloan.”

“That’s enough, Miss Yang,” said Mrs. MacNamara. Astrid sat down and winked at Kit. Then she took out her phone and airdropped him a complete list of all her favorite shows, along with her number.

After Blessica’s pre-birthday birthday party, they went to Cirenworth and stayed up till four A.M. binging them.

They met outside a queer dry bar called Aries Not Welcome, the unspoken gathering place of the Merry Hoes. It was run by a poly lesbian couple in their mid-thirties. Quinn, Sydney and Aliyah may not have served alcohol but at least they were open 24/7.

“Did you bring the shit?”

Kit gave her a look. “The shit? How conclusive.”

“Shut up. You know, the shadowhunter thing.”

“The shadowhunter thing?”

“The, the, the glow stick that you draw with.”

“The glow stick that I draw wi-“ Kit closed his eyes briefly. “Do you mean a stele?”

Astrid snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” Kit shook his head in exasperation, smiling fondly. “I borrowed a torch from Quinn, let’s move.”

“Should I be worried that you know where Mr. Smith lives?” questioned Kit as he followed Astrid’s lead through the park.

“Should I be worried that your mom was fine with us breaking and entering?” she shot back playfully. Kit pushed Astrid and she fell off the path, laughing all the way.

“You called me ‘daddy’ to my mom’s face.”

She just laughed harder, slinging her arm around Kit’s shoulder. “It was over the phone, Christopher. And as I should.”

“Pffffttt. Why did you get your phone taken anyway?” She put her hands into her jumper pocket and looked at the ground. “Astrid.” She remained silent. “Astrid?”

She mumbled something under her breath. “What?” asked Kit.

“I WAS READING NINEJ FANFICTION!” she shouted.

Kit gasped. “I thought you were a die hard Kanej shipper,” he whispered.

“I’m a multishipper, okay?!” she replied, equally quiet.

“Does Blessica know?”

She shook her head. “And she will never find out.”

Kit saw the opportunity and he seized it. “She’ll never find out as long as you never call me daddy in front of either of my parents.”

She removed her arm from his shoulder and guided them out of the park, in the direction of the many apartments that lined this side of town. “I hate you.”

“Well, so does Mari. You're not special, Ast.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know Mari doesn’t actually hate you, right?! They’re just still in the enemy phase of your enemies-to-lovers romance. She only dislikes you because they feel something for you but they don’t know what so she interrupts it as loathing. In reality, her inner soul knows you’re hot and shmexie.”

Kit didn’t know how to process this so he just nodded and follow Astrid in silence to Mr. Smith’s house. (Plus, he was kinda glad that, according to his best friend, he had a little more time for Mari to ‘discover their true feelings’. If Kit screwed this up, he was out of countries to run off to.)

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What,” asked Kit, turning around to face Astrid and closing the drawer he was rifling through. “Did you find your phone?”

“Yeah. But I also found Blessica’s. She was Snapping Kevin. Platonic my ass. But he took the fucking trans flag out of her phone!”

Kit snatched Blessica’s phone out of her hand to examine it for herself. She was telling the truth. Where the glitter pride flag usually rested was just a clear purple case. Kit couldn’t believe his eyes.

“It’s one thing to misgender her every day.” Blessica had forced all four of the other Merry Hoes to sign a contract saying they wouldn’t do anything to harm him because of it. “But this is the last straw. You know what we have to do.” Oops.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any spray paint.”

Kit eyed Mr. Smith’s pink sofa, blue bar stool covers and white picture frames. “I think I have something better in mind.”

It would have been easier for both parties to just zip off the sofa cushions and tape them to the wall but by ripping them off in strips, they ensured he would have to buy new ones. And judging by the car he drove and the fiji water in his fridge, Mr. Smith could definitely afford it.

That reminded him, “I’ll finish up with this. Go put all his fiji water into my bag.” Astrid saluted him and ran off. “Wait.” She stopped and looked at him. “Steal all the remotes you can find.”

“How is he not awake?,” asked Astrid as they ripped the fabric of his seating from the stool.

He shrugged. “Don’t question it.” He shoved the bundle of cloth into her arms. “Glue this above the pink. I’ll handle the frames.”

“Say the magic word,” she sang.

“Please?”

“No. Lesbian. Come on, I thought you knew me better than that.”

Kit laughed quietly. “Can you lesbian glue this above the pink?”

She grinned at Kit. “It would be my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hello! Sorry I haven’t written anything in so long. School just restarted and it has been…a lot.

@adoravel-fenomeno @thechangeling @the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @maxboythedog @book-dragon-not-worm @hardlymatters

Very sorry if I forgot anyone. Lmk if you want to be addEd/removEd from the tag list.

#mari the werewolf #mari machado sotomayor #mari machado #kit rook #kit herondale #astrid yang #blessica reyes #Kevin chu #tessa grey #jem carstairs #lily chen #mina carstairs

46 notes · View notes

bipercabeth · 4 years

Note

“your hands are shaking” + percabeth !!! 🥺 (ofc I went for the hands)

started this with the intention of writing a lil drabble between roommates ch 9 and 10, but it got away from me. here’s 1.4k of soft idiots and hands

Percy comes home from the last swim practice before states and promptly throws himself onto the couch, tossing an arm over Annabeth’s thighs and pressing his face into the cushion next to them, his skin and breath contrasting the pervasive cold their radiator fights against. Today was the last intense day, so she knows he's hurting even before he hooks his hand under her leg to pull himself closer and groans with the effort. Annabeth sets the notes she scooped up upon his entry down on the coffee table and combs a hand through his damp hair with a frown.

"Did you walk all the way here with wet hair? Perce, it's freezing out."

"Can you let a guy die in peace?"

"We both know it's my life's purpose to make sure you never know peace, so I'm gonna need you to answer the question."

"You know the answer."

She thunks him gently on the back of his cold head but soothes his responding whine by scratching her nails along his scalp. He purrs, a low throaty sound she feels through the couch and his grip on her. Her playlist plays through the TV, a soft instrumental meant to help her focus on school. Instead it zeroes her in on Percy's profile, the edges of him that soften in the light of their apartment and her company. Soft black curls drape over his eyes, and she pushes it back to find them closed in contentment. A finger traces the line of his jaw of its own volition, soft and feather-light against the hard edge. She trails it down his crooked nose, which was broken one too many times to heal straight, and rides the bump over the dusting of freckles. Her fingertip only just traces his lips before he presses the barest of kisses to it, nearly shocking her into recoiling. Of all the sideways attempts at kissing him to express her feelings, he has never once made that move. It's just a whisper against her pointer finger, not her collarbone or cheek or wherever else she's laid her lips on him in a moment of courage, but it's significant all the same.

Instead of telling him that, she says, "If you get sick five days before states because you walked outside with wet hair in February, I'm actually gonna kill you.”

Percy ignores her threat. "Just wanted to get home to you."

"Well that's...incredibly hard to be mad at you over."

"It is, isn't it?" The corner of his mouth lifts just so, hinting at the dimple she knows will press into his cheek at a moment's notice.

"I take it back. I'm mad." She lifts his arm off her legs and attempts to scoot away, but he catches her around her legs again. She lets herself be manhandled, knowing her smile will betray her posturing the moment he looks up at her.

He pulls her closer than last time, now laying his head on her thigh, his cheek smushed against her sweatpants. "How's studying going?"

Annabeth's gaze flickers to the pile of books on the coffee table. "It's...going, I guess."

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, just..." She exhales and looks back to Percy, the most peaceful thing in the living room. "Midterms, ya know?"

"Like last time?"

There's an undercurrent of concern to his voice, one Annabeth is used to hearing but can never quite comprehend being directed her way. "No, not like last time. A good, normal amount of exam stress and existential dread." Her hand returns to his hair, which warms under her touch. "Is that why you hurried home?"

He looks up at her then, earnest despite the long day. "I just wanted to spend some time with you before our week explodes. You not going crazy is an added bonus though." His eyes undermine his tone as they search Annabeth's face, checking for eyebags and other signs of stress. Seemingly satisfied with his findings, he tucks his cheek back against her leg.

Resigning herself to being done with school work for the night, Annabeth nudges Percy and asks him to fish for the remote between the cushions. They're mid season six on New Girl, and she's hoping to finish before the week is up. Percy finds the remote and bends awkwardly to pass it to her behind his head.

"Percy, your hands are shaking," she says, taking the remote and his hand into her own.

"Practice was brutal today," he sighs. "Coach gave us this arm exercise where you do this between each stroke"—he flexes his hand before making a fist and opening it again—"for some reason. Threw us off for the beginning of practice, but it made us work harder in the end. That was probably the point, but right now it just sucks."

"Sit up."

"Annabeth, I can't ask you to—"

"You're not asking for anything. I'm telling you to sit up."

Percy heaves himself out of Annabeth's lap and rests against the back of the couch, turning to jelly in his attempt to protest. Paying him no mind, Annabeth throws her legs over his like a seatbelt and takes his far arm into her hands.

"Forearms bad?" she asks.

"It's all bad."

Annabeth rolls her eyes and flips his palm to the ceiling, feeling a slight tremor from the angle once more. She presses her thumbs from his knuckles to his wrist, the soft flesh of his palms malleable beneath her touch. They're the slightest bit clammy too, she notes with a small smile. They weren’t before her legs were in his lap.

Before long she moves to his forearms, anchoring his palm on her knee while she digs into the muscle and pushes out the lactic acid. Just as she reaches his elbow, she realizes she forgot to do anything with the TV.

"You can turn on whatever you like. I'm just gonna focus."

His voice is close. "I like watching you focus." Annabeth doesn't remember scooting almost entirely into his lap, though she's been leaning in the higher she travels up his arm. Doesn't mean she's ready to look up—with her tongue poking out in concentration, no less—and find his face inches away from hers.

Percy clears his throat and offers her his upper arm in the form of an escape. Annabeth takes it, sinking her fingers into his bicep and working out the stiffness.

It's a nice arm. Two of them, actually—he has two very nice arms. Objectively. From an artist's standpoint. It's no wonder Rachel used to use him as a model for anatomy studies in her drawing classes. He has good anatomy. Solid. Streamlined. A true swimmer's build, all broad shoulders and tapered torso.

Annabeth gives the swell of his shoulder one last squeeze and switches arms, scooting away slightly to make room for his wingspan. She starts the same way as last time: with his palm face up in hers. Her hands have memorized this route by now, so she lets her mind wander as she sets about his forearm.

"How's practice been? Besides the obvious, I mean."

"Do we include Sloan being a dick in the obvious?"

She can't help the way her fingers dig in. "No. You tell me about that. Always."

He sets his free hand on her shin for a moment, putting out a bit of her fire. "Nothing serious. Just stupid comments, usually under his breath. He's not going to try anything with Coach watching him the way he has been."

Annabeth focuses her frustration into her work, ignoring Percy's wince. "You promise you'd tell me if it was bad?"

"Do I have a black eye?"

She makes a show of looking. "Nope."

"Then he didn't say anything bad."

Annabeth finishes his arm and frowns. "That just means you didn't get hit." She picks up both of his hands and checks his knuckles. The skin is unbroken and unbruised, and he didn't wince at all when she worked his palms. In a lapse of restraint, she presses her lips there. "Keep 'em that way, okay?"

He chuckles, and she watches his Adam's apple move. "Yes ma'am. You done?"

She releases him with a flourish. "All done. Nothing to do now but wait."

Percy looks at her, his eyes dark. "I know the feeling."

#and they were roommates #drabbles #NOT RLY BUT THAT'S THE TAG #my fic #my percabeth #alyssa tag #ridiculous amoung of alyssa seeking missiles in this #xoxo cannot wait for u to perish #useralyssa

381 notes · View notes

come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//fatherhood headcannons//

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou / Bokuto Koutarou / Daishou Suguru

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7K (~550 a piece)

Notes: don’t come for me and my self-indulgence. Also >:C if you’re of age and living in the United States, go fucking vote. i am not asking.

Kuroo Tetsurou

He goes into this whole fatherhood thing with complete and utter confidence. Kuroo Tetsurou is convinced that he doesn’t need to have a single parenting book. How hard can it be?

It’s all just making sure his kid doesn’t die, right? R I G H T?

He tries really hard to understand all of your discomforts during the pregnancy, but wowowow he’s bad at it. You were complaining that your feet were sore and he just looked at you weird. You had just gotten out of bed? How did your feet already hurt? Your back hurts? How? You’re laying down?

He recognizes that you’re in discomfort and he, of course, doesn’t look past that. He’s going to do whatever he needs to do to ensure your comfort, but he just struggles to comprehend it.

I promise that Kuroo was so calm and cool and collected throughout the entire pregnancy and honestly, even during delivery, he was there to tell you how great you were doing, holding your hand, letting you crush his fingers in your tight grip. He would pat your head and occasionally give you little kisses on your temple.

But when the nurse asks if he wants to hold his new little girl and places her in his arms, oh he’s crying. He doesn’t even realize that he’s crying until he feels the tears stream down his cheeks.

It was in the following weeks that he realized just how hard this whole parenting thing would be. Sleep? Kuroo didn’t know her. The baby religiously started crying every night at 2:27 a.m. and it would take nearly an hour to get her to fall back asleep. By the time that hour passed, he was already back to being wide awake and would just lay in bed, unable to fall back asleep for hours.

The first time he ever had to change a diaper, he had to pull up a YouTube video to figure it out, but he’s not about to tell you that.

He has no idea how to dad, but Kuroo ends up being a really incredible father. While he may be lacking in the basic skills like knowing the correct formula temperature or how to properly hold his daughter, he makes up for it with his constant companionship.

You’ve walked in on him in the nursery so many times. He’s really not even doing anything. He’s just leaning against the crib, running his fingers across his little girl’s skin, still not believing that this is real and that that little baby is his, something that he helped create. Oh, it just makes him so soft to think about. He talks real quietly to her, telling her about his day, like she has any idea what he’s saying, but he still smiles so wide when she looks at him.

His little girl is his entire world and I just know that he’s an incredibly protective father. He knows that the world is a scary place and he wants his daughter to be able to grow up having the best life possible, even if it is difficult.

Bokuto Koutarou

It was an accident. It was 100% an accident. But, the absolute joy that lit up his features when you told him your happy news, well, you don’t think you had ever seen him smile so wide. He had picked you up to spin you around and covered your face in kisses. Bokuto had set you down and immediately squatted down to place a kiss on your non-existent baby bump, telling his little baby how excited he was to be their papa.

Bokuto does prepare, well, at least a little. He owns one book, but he has read it cover to cover. When he was reading through it, he would stop at something that he found particularly interesting and show it to you.

He didn’t really know how best to take care of you, but he tried his best! He would rub your shoulders or feet when you asked. He would make dinner after practice. He is absolutely running to the store in the middle of the night because you had a sudden craving for Cheetos and vanilla ice cream. Bokuto thought it was best not to ask what the hell you were doing when you proceeded to dip the Cheetos in the ice cream.

Bokuto forces you on walks. He read in that one pregnancy book that walks can help induce labor, so in the time leading up to the due date, Bokuto was taking you on strolls around the block multiple times a day.

But, he gets really busy with MSBY ;-; like. . . a lot. He wants to be there every step of the way, but he just can’t. Even after the baby was born, it seemed like there was rarely a day off for him to just spend with you and the baby.

Nothing hurt more than seeing the video of his little boy taking his first steps, knowing that he wasn’t even there to see it for himself because he was stuck on a bus in another city for a game.

This boy B R A G S about his kid all the time. Sakusa might just beat his ass if he has to hear Bokuto coo about his son one more time.

Games that happen at home are Bokuto’s favorites because he knows that whenever he looks up into the stands, you’ll be there, the baby in your arms, a tiny black knit hat with gold detailing pulled over his head. It always made his heart so warm and he seemed to always be on top of his game just so he could secure a win quicker. He just wanted to rush to you and cradle his little one in his arms.

He likes to toss his little bean up into the air, but he has absolutely bonked his son’s head on the ceiling and then proceeded to fail to catch him because he was so in shock that he just hit his son’s head on the ceiling. Insert one (1) bokuto koutarou suddenly regretting every life decision that he has ever made.

Surprisingly, he’s a really good parent? He understands the balance between being caring and supportive, but also having a firm hand on discipline. He isn’t much for punishments, because he’s going to feel bad, but he won’t hesitate to sit his son down and have a talk if he needs to.

God Bokuto is such a good dad please i’m so soft i just know that he would sob his eyes out the minute the baby is on its way

Daishou Suguru

please i don’t even want children, but i would make an exception for daishou suguru

Suguru is so?? stupidly?? prepared??

Like the two of you decided that you wanted to have a baby and this man went to the bookstore and asked one of the workers which pregnancy books were the best. The poor high school student had no idea

He took notes and was just constantly studying up on things. You’d think he was back in university again with how much he poured himself over these books.

While Daishou may have all of the technical stuff down like knowing the exact female reproductive anatomy and how it all works to produce the baby and he can definitely change a diaper with his eyes closed by now, but-

When the time came to put together a nursery- oh the boy was lost. He had no idea what to do. He’d never built a crib before. He wasn’t really sure why he was expecting it to just unfold or magically form together when he took it out of the box, but now he was just sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by bits and pieces of a baby crib, pouring over the instructions, only to get more confused.

Please go sit with him in his time of need. He’ll rest his head on your shoulder and rub tiny circles over your bump.

Suguru probably jumped a foot in the air when he felt that itty bitty kick against his hand. It took him by complete surprise and his eyes were as wide as saucers, but this really slow smile took over his face and you don’t think you had ever seen him so happy, a complete smiling and laughing mess.

He takes the best care of you b y e

Morning sickness? He’s right there to pull your hair away from your face and get you a glass of water.

Too bad he spent all this time looking up information on the actual pregnancy and had no idea what to expect for actual childbirth. Overnight bag? He said, “How long does this take?” He had no idea what to do during delivery. His dumbass just stood there until you demanded that he give you his hand and definitely screamed when you nearly crushed his bones in an absolute death grip, nails digging painfully into the back of his hand, but who was he to object. He wasn’t the one pushing a child out of his body.

Oh, did I say child? Try children. Suguru nearly fainted when the nurse said that there was “one more.” He didn’t remember seeing a second little peanut on the ultrasound, but maybe he just forgot in the overwhelming panic of the moment?

He was so good all throughout the pregnancy, but the minute the kids are born? It’s like he completely forgot everything that he read over the past nine months, but the softness in his eyes and the gentle smile on his lips the very first time he got to hold his kid? It made it all worth it. He didn’t know that it was possible to love someone so quickly, but he looked at the faces of his newborn children and he couldn’t have been happier.

Daishou has fallen asleep in the nursery chair more than once when he was up with the babies. You’d get up to see what was taking so long, only to find him leaned back, his head lolled to the side, two tiny bundles held securely to his chest.

In conclusion. I love daishou suguru and he would be a really good dad once he figured it all out

{Taglist: @moncymonce @nicka-nell @celosiiaa @kuronekomama @lovinnoya and @nekxrizawa @boosyboo9206 bc you both got me thinking about them as d a d s and now i can’t get it out of my head onyx please take this as a bribe to receive the daishou suguru hip dermal edit you made i need it}

404 notes · View notes

lifblogs · 3 years

Text

Had this idea for awhile once I learned about Twi'lek anatomy, so here's Kanan in a sexual situation with Hera trying to figure it out.

1915 words

read on ao3

Hera cried out, and shoved Kanan away from her. He fell back against the controls of the Ghost, not quite sure of what was now digging into his back. The dim lighting wasn’t helping.

“Kanan!” she admonished, holding a hand over the cone-shaped nub that served as her ear.

“What? What is it?” he asked, all sweaty and blushing. “I just… humans lick each other’s ears during… well… and I thought—”

“I’m not human!”

Kanan tried to right himself, but his arm got stuck in the steering controls and he fell again.

“Right. Right, sorry.” With another try, he managed to stand and was brushing non-existent dust off of his rumpled, and somewhat undone clothes; anything to avoid looking Hera in the eye. He sat in the co-pilot’s seat, back hunched in with some trepidation and guilt, before asking, “So… did—did I hurt you?”

Hera lowered her hand and gave him a smile, one that eased his nerves somewhat.

She pointed at the nub. “How these work is that they directly pick up vibrations.”

“Okay, ears do that too…”

“No, this is more like…” She surprisingly giggled and went to sit in his lap, the palms of her hands resting against his chest. He unintentionally squeezed her waist when she licked his earlobe, sending hot tingles through him, reminding him what they’d been trying to do. “Imagine if someone licked your eardrum.”

Kanan cringed, covering his ears, almost knocking her off of him.

“Oh gods, Hera, I’m so sorry.”

Wait? Why was he covering his ears? He was fine!

Immediately he reached out for Hera, stroking her neck, caressing her cheek.

“Are you okay?”

“Just kiss me, you idiot.”

Kanan let Hera guide his hands back to her waist, but he wanted them lower, on her hips, to tug her against him. He arched up into her, as he kissed her, trying to get back into the mood.

Remembering what she’d said about her lekku being incredibly sensitive, he reached out a hand and began to caress one. It was… somewhat odd, seeing as he’d never been with a Twi’lek before her, but stars, he was sure he loved Hera. He’d do anything for her. So this was no problem.

Her mouth opened in a long, low moan, and she ground down against him hard. A surprised grunt left him as familiar pressure started filling his gut and in between his legs.

Hera sucked at his mouth before putting her tongue in, and Kanan swore he was seeing stars, even with his eyes shut tight.

Trusting her to hold onto him tight enough—really, she was so close against him that he wasn’t sure anything, even gravity, would be able to pry her off—he reached out for her other lekku. He stroked up and down with both hands, and Hera started to tear at Kanan’s clothes. The most she got was tugging his shirt up, and his pants down, but that seemed to be enough for her because she was palming at his cock, even while she ground down against his thighs. Kanan could feel the heat of her between her legs even through their clothes.

He groaned, and pulled back to look up at her. Their heavy, hot breaths shared the same air, and Kanan felt as if he was breathing her in. He arched up into her as best he could. With a powerful tug

Hera had him leaning his head back, mouth open. And she went at his neck with her mouth.

He cried out through gritted teeth, and released her lekku to reach for her pants, trying to get them off of her. She released his hardened cock to try helping, and she started to get off of him to figure it out. Both of them were having difficulty thinking at this point, and clothes were just a pointless distraction.

Kanan shoved Hera off of him, and he tugged his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the deck, before reaching out for her and pressing her up against the console, tugging her pants down. She squirmed against him, and when he brought a hand down to pleasure her and get her wet he found that she was all ready for him. Still, he searched for that little swollen nub at the apex of her thighs, and he kept his touch light as he ran his fingers over it.

This had her bucking into him, lekku tossed back over her shoulders. A jolt shot up from his balls, reaching through his cock. Precum trickled out of him, and he rubbed himself up against her ass. He felt her pulse against his hand, and, unable to contain himself anymore, Kanan took hold of his cock to bring it to her entrance. Hera grunted, and pushed back with her slim body.

The both of them were so desperate at this point, that it took almost nothing to get him buried up to his heavy balls in her. Hera was growling his name, bouncing on him as much as she could—which wasn’t much.

Eyes nearly rolling back in his head from how tight and hot and wet she was, Kanan started to take her with hard, fast thrusts.

They often had quickies in the cockpit, or hell, anywhere on the Ghost, but this was the first time Kanan felt brave enough to try and get used to Twi’lek anatomy. An idea came to him, one born from knowing what Hera did to him with her mouth, and he reached for her lekku. A throaty cry left her, and Kanan was leaning far over her, bare chest against her back.

Trepidation churning slightly in his gut despite the pleasure bursting through him and nearly up into his chest, he took the end of her left lekku into his mouth. It was an odd sensation, having his mouth filled, and he was surprised that he actually enjoyed it.

It ended all too soon because Hera shoved back against him hard, almost making his brain short-circuit, and then she was grabbing him, pulling his mouth away. She pushed him, and he fell back into the co-pilot’s seat, disappointed.

“What the hell?” she asked, turning to him and doing what she could to get out of her pants. She tossed them aside, and then straddled him.

“What?” he asked.

“What you were doing with my lekku.”

A blush crept onto his already-reddened face, and he nearly forgot all about his throbbing, wanting cock pressing against her naturally-hairless pelvis.

“Uh… I—I… I thought that—”

“That you’d give my lekku a blowjob?”

Kanan gave her an awkward smile, and shrugged. “Hehe…”

“Gods, you’re so stupid.”

“What?” he asked, still thoroughly confused.

“We don’t do that.”

“But you told me that it’s uh… like a non-procreative sex organ, and you have me eat you out, so I thought using my mouth…”

“It’s just… it’s not what we do.”

“We as in Twi’leks.”

“Yes, love.”

“Oh. But I don’t know, we could still give it a try.”

Hera pulled back and looked him dead in the eye, a smirk growing on her face. She poked at his chest playfully. “You liked it.”

“Who, me? What? No!”

To his surprise, Hera then tilted her head and waved her lekku in his face.

“Let’s see how much you can take in.”

“I thought you said—”

“I’m open to trying something new if it’s something you like. Besides, it’s not like it hurts like what you tried to pull earlier.”

“Oh… yeah…” Kanan swallowed roughly, looking at the tattooed, green appendage. “But, uh… I was thinking maybe just the tip?”

“Baby,” Hera teased.

“Oh, come on, are you actually serious?”

“You make me try with this.” On the last word, Hera grabbed his hard, wet cock, and gave it a rough squeeze near the base. He let out a cry and bucked into her.

“I thought you liked doing that,” he said.

“No, you like it. So I do it. Your turn.”

Kanan looked at her lekku again. Hmm… It would be interesting. But…

“Only if you suck me off when I’m close.”

Hera leaned in and gave him a deep kiss. “Deal.”

He took her right lekku, which was the closest to him, and sucked it into his mouth. Hera let out a throaty moan, and started working on getting him back in her again. She took charge this time, riding him as he moaned around her lekku, and tried to get more of it in his mouth.

Wow, this was not easy, but the fact that he was being ridden by her—and desperately—at the same time, made him want to give it his all. He pulled back on her lekku when he felt close to gagging, but he sucked, like she might do for him (even though it certainly wasn’t that kind of appendage).

Hera’s bouncing on him grew desperate, and he grabbed her ass hard with one hand. With the other, he tried to get her lekku in deeper again.

Come on, Kanan. It’s barely in. If Hera can almost get you all in, then surely—

All thoughts left his head as Hera moaned and whimpered. He felt her orgasm, felt her body clench tight and rhythmically around him. She ground down hard, and his pleasure started to reach its peak.

In his shock, he accidentally got her lekku in too deep, and he gagged. Quickly, pulling back, Kanan gasped for breath.

“Hera!” he cried.

“Kanan,” she moaned.

“I’m close. Oh kriff, I’m so close.”

Despite still coming, she got off of him, moaning her regret, and got on her knees before him. He tugged lightly on her lekku, and caressed her face as she pumped the base of him, and squeezed his balls, and sucked the tip.

His head leaning back, Kanan could scarcely breathe. It was like a white fire had taken him over, and it burned and burned, as if it would never end.

He clenched his teeth against a growl as a jolt ran up from his toes, condensed in his balls, and then pushed out of his throbbing cock in ropy spurts. Pleasure bombarded him, exploding up to his stomach, leaving him light-headed. Hera moaned, maybe just for his benefit.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes, and watched her swallow. If he hadn’t already cummed, he would’ve done so just then.

“Oh, Hera…” he breathed.

She was in his lap again, kissing him, breathing hard. When their bodies relaxed more they pulled their lips apart, but pressed their foreheads together.

Hera let out a giggle and kissed his cheek. “That was interesting.”

“I was gonna say weird.”

She got up to start putting her pants back on, and was righting her clothes. Kanan, face flushed as he watched her bend over, seeing how swollen she was in between her legs because of him, cleared his throat. She threw his shirt at him as she pulled her pants up. Right, right. Getting dressed. They were getting dressed now.

Kanan stood, following suit.

“So, uh… what now?”

“Now I clean your spit off my lekku, you strange, strange man.”

Kanan held up a finger. “Hey, you wanted to do that. And you liked it.”

She came forward, and grabbed his chin, pulling him down into a kiss that left him wondering if they could go another round.

Her voice was soft, her eyes gentle, as she said, “I did.”

#swr #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #star wars #rebels #kanera #kanera smut #kanera fanfiction #swr fanfiction #star wars rebels fanfiction #star wars: rebels fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #rebels fanfiction #nsft #fanfiction #writing #my writing

22 notes · View notes

heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

Text

Insert interesting AN here. It's like 2 in the morning.

Chapter 13

He finally speaks. “This isn’t going to work if you keep moving around.”

You dig your nails into your palms as he pulls another shard from your back. “I know. Still hurts.”

A pause. “I could ask Master Splinter to let you have some alcohol to numb it if you want.” His voice throughout the whole process has been incredibly soft, from since you woke up in his room until now. “The skin disinfectant is going to sting more than this.”

“I’ll drink myself to death,” you promise, half-joking in an attempt to lighten the suffocating mood. “Seeing how the past couple months have gone, I should probably just get used to pain, right?”

He pulls another piece of blood-soaked glass from your skin, placing it into a can at his side with a clink. “I really hope that doesn’t happen.” You feel him pull another portion of the skin on your back taught. “The pain thing, I mean. Not to say that I want you to drink yourself to death—”

“I get what you mean.” You try to keep an eye on him without moving your neck, not wanting to get blood on his sheets. “I’m the same way about the murdering thing.”

Silence, again.

“How’s the cockroach thing going?”

“It’s going.” He is quick if nothing else; he is already three-quarters of the way done, now at your waist. “It seemed to be working alright this morning, so it should work tonight if I’m lucky.”

You smile gently. “That’s good, then. You’re due for some good luck.”

“Of the two of us?” He leans to the side from his seat on his chair, studying your face. “I think you need it more than I do.”

You laugh. “Most teenagers boys don’t have half-naked girls on their beds because of medical reasons,” you argue. “I’d say you dealing with me is worthy of some good mojo.”

“The portal wouldn’t have been destroyed if not for you.” He leans back, pulling a particularly large piece out of your hip. “We wouldn’t even know what their ultimate plan was, what to look out for, what to expect.” He bends down, and you hear the gurgling of a liquid being poured out. “Besides,” he reasons, “it was as much my fault as yours for not thinking of the glass walls. It’s the least I could do.”

You bite down on your tongue as he starts wiping the blood off. “Shit,” you hiss, “that stings.”

A hint of excitement laces his tone. “Wanna know why?”

Your jaw relaxes as the pain subsides. “Sure,” you chuckle, strained. “Why does it hurt?”

“Well,” he starts, “this antiseptic, like most antiseptics, is comprised mainly of two compounds: ethanol, or just normal grain alcohol, and hydrogen peroxide.” He sounds like a passionate schoolteacher when he goes off about anything science-related. It is absolutely enrapturing, listening to someone so in love with their craft. “Now, ethanol activates vanilloid receptor-one, which is also activated by capsaicin, which is what makes food spicy. But the funny thing about that,” he continued, “is that, usually, the receptor is only activated by really high temperatures—the receptor is what lets you register hot things as hot.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know about medical stuff.” You wince again as he continues to clean your wounds.

“Oh, I’m just not good at applied medicine,” he chuckles nervously. “None of the serious stuff, I mean; I’d never be able to perform a proper surgery or prescribe medications without a ridiculous amount of research, but I know how to set bones and how certain chemicals react to certain receptors.”

“So, you know how it works but not how to fix it?”

“I guess so, yeah.” You hear the chair move as he gets to his feet. “I started looking into it the first night you came here, actually, since I never looked into how burns worked until…” he trails off, clears his throat. “Anyway,” he tries again, “ethanol lowers the temperature threshold to body temperature, making the cut burn. It’s also why it’s painful to drink things with a high alcohol content: your receptors register it as if you’re actually being burned.” He pushes your hair off your neck carefully. “Hydrogen peroxide acts similarly, only it activates a different receptor, known as transient receptor potential ankyrin one, and while not as much as known about it, it’s theorized that it acts similarly, resulting in you feeling pain.” Your fingernails dig into your palms again as you suck in air at the burning sensation on your neck. “But it’s important to note that antiseptics are different than disinfectants. Disinfectants are for non-organic surfaces because they contain higher concentrations of biocides than antiseptics.”

You exhale as the pain subsides. “Have you used antiseptics before now?”

“Of course.” You feel him start to place things—they feel like pads—on your back. “But I made sure to account for the differences in skin types, so unless I made a big mistake at some point, the odds of you getting chemical burns is close to zero.”

“Your confidence is very reassuring,” you grin. “By any chance, do you plan on reimbursing the cost of cutting my shirt up?”

“Nah,” he shrugs. “Was planning on having you walk out of here in the middle of fall in NYC without a shirt to make double sure you get hypothermia. As you said, we have to add to your list of injuries.”

“Of course,” you “nod’ knowingly, cracking yourself up. “No pain, no game.”

“Glad to be on the same page.” He sighs. “Honestly, I don’t have a ton of fabric to fix your shirt or jacket, so unless you have some on hand—”

Your response is immediate. “You take my shirt and fix it,” you interrupt. “If one of them is going, it sure as hell ain’t gonna be that fucking jacket.”

He blinks. Your words register after a second.

“I do not mean it in—I mean—” you immediately backpedal. “I’m not—you get what I mean, right?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I know what you—yeah.” He is doing absolutely nothing to help the embarrassment. “I got it; i-in hindsight, I probably should have tried taking the jacket off, but I was worried I’d cut your skin up more.”

You press your face into the mattress as you feel what you assume is tape being laid along your sides. “I appreciate it.” A pause. “I don’t actually remember what happened after the main explosion happened. What…”

No response. You feel his knee sink to the bed as he reaches over, applying the adhesive on the other side of your skin quietly.

“I don’t wanna know?”

“Probably not.” His hand presses the creases flat into the curve of your back, sighing again.

You smile nervously. “I made a fool of myself, then?”

“… I wouldn’t say that.” He applied another pad to your neck. “Just—for glass rain, you were pretty calm, I’d say.”

“For glass rain,” you highlight. “Seeing as I don’t remember it, I can’t imagine it was good.”

He removes his hands. “I honestly don’t know why what happened happened,” he admits. “Just know that the guys are probably not going to give you a hard time for it.”

“Probably?” You finally turn your head to look at him.

He shrugs, gently turning your head back. “Mikey, sadly, seems to get it more than we do, so that’s two.”

You lick your lips absentmindedly. “Hey,” you shrug, “I’ll take fifty percent.”

You feel a heavy blanket drape over your back. “I still have to get the glass out of your hair, and I don’t have anything else for you to wear, so this’ll have to do. I won’t look while you adjust it.”

Your eyes strain to check. Sure enough, you watch him turn around and face the opposing wall.

You sit up, pulling the blanket around yourself to save your modesty. “You’re good. Need me to turn around?”

“Uh, yeah.”

You lift yourself, careful of your leg as you reposition yourself to have your back to him. “Thanks for this, if I haven’t said it already.”

“It’s no problem.” Fingers part your hair, tweezers now attached to your scalp. “You should see the stupid injuries I’ve had to help my brothers with.”

“I bet,” you feel yourself grinning. “I’m surprised you guys haven’t torn each other to shreds yet.”

“There have been close calls.” You hear the clinking of the can again. “Especially after getting our hands on weapons when we did. You would not believe the number of concussions we had.”

You put your hands up for dramatic effect. “Madness.”

“You laugh,” he laughs, “but figuring out our anatomy to any degree of accuracy was hard enough. I’m convinced Mikey messed Raph up with his nunchaku when we were ten.”

You let him move your head. “This I gotta hear.”

“Oh, it isn’t a really interesting story,” Donnie clarifies. “He just accidentally hit Raph in the head too hard during training and almost caved in his skull.”

You try not to laugh. “What counts as an interesting story, then?”

“Well,” he contemplates, “there was that time with the oven.”

You turn to look at him the best you can with the limited movement he allowed. “The time with the oven?”

“Wax paper catches fire if you put it in the oven.”

You nod, turning back. “Was it you or Mikey?”

“A bit of both.” Clink. Clink. “I thought wax paper implied paper made of some sort of wax, and Mikey was trying to make decorative candles. The theory,” he continues, clearly trying to make himself not sound stupid, “was that putting it in the oven would get more consistent heat throughout the wax.”

You try to hide your amusement for his sake. “I take it that didn’t pan out.”

“It did not.” He chuckled dryly, combing his fingers through your hair to feel for glass. “Splinter was so mad, I thought we wouldn’t see tomorrow.”

Your fingers clench as his hand catches. “Not so harsh,” you breathe in pain. “You’re gonna rip my hair out.”

“Oh, sorry.” He removed his hand. “I forgot it was—that’s stupid,” he edits. “I’m not used to dealing with hair is what I meant.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him quickly. “Just try not to tug so hard.”

“I don’t think there’s any glass left anyways, so.” You hear the chair wheel away from the bed. “That probably won’t be a problem.”

You turn around properly, adjusting the blanket over your torso. “Thank you for all your help.”

His eyes flicker downward for a second before staring directly and deliberately at your face. “You’re welcome,” he nods, not moving his eyes. “You were incredibly easy to work with.”

“You made quick work of it.” Your legs cross over another, your worn sneaker matching the color of the concrete floor. “And don’t worry about my shirt; I have to go shopping, anyways.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“Well,” you reason, “My clothes are already kinda worn, and I’ve been meaning to buy leather gloves for a while, so it would give me an excuse to go look for a good pair.”

“Leather gloves?”

You nod. “I was hashing it out with Casey, and he agreed they would look badass and cover up my hand scars.”

“You know,” he suggests, poorly feigning nonchalance, “I could make you some.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I have the know-how, and I’m pretty good with that sort of thing.”

You shake your head immediately, face heating up. “After everything you’ve done for me, I can’t let you do that.”

“Sure you can.” You can practically see the gears turning as he verbally plans it out. “I’d need measurements, of course, and finding good quality leather might be a challenge, but it would allow a lot of stylistic freedom. If you gave me a sketch of what you and Mikey worked out a sketch—”

“Dude, no.” You feel like such a girl, getting flustered over something like this. “Never mind how much unnecessary work that would take—”

“It would take me an afternoon, tops.”

“—it would be way too much trouble to find all the right materials and everything!” You shake your head more vigorously. “You have enough on your plate already.”

He pauses. “What if I could give it a practical use? Like, for self-defense or something. Would you let me then?”

You blink. “Self-defense?”

“Yeah.” You feel as though you are missing something when he hurries to clarify, “You had a knife next to you when I came to pick you up. Having something more user-friendly might—not that you can’t use a knife, but you don’t have a ton of experience with them, especially using a kitchen knife against the Foot and you get what I’m saying, right?”

You hesitate, trying to understand what he said before nodding. “I guess that makes sense,” you concede. “It would be shitty to go out like a bitch after convincing myself I deserve to live so many times. That would be kinda inconvenient.”

Despite the fact he looks like you just put a knife to your throat, he nods. “Yeah,” he confirms tentatively. “Inconvenient.”

You shift the blanket under your arms, folding it so that it would stay at your chest. “Alright,” you sigh, “You convinced me. But!” You aim to accentuate this caveat, “But, not my design. If you’re going to go through all the trouble, you design it to how you think they would look cool, so you feel good about what you’re making.”

“You trust me to not make you look bad?”

“Totally.” You smile. “Looking at the Shellraiser makes me want to vomit, but it’s not from lack of style.”

He blinks. “What?”

“Exactly what I said,” you commit.

Your statement makes him take pause, but, eventually, he seems to get what you mean. “Then… thanks,” he nods. “I should probably fix your jacket first, though. Unless you want to walk around New York in the middle of the night in a blanket.”

“I’d rather not,” you admit. “I feel like that would not be my greatest move.”

He gets up. “Are you alright to be left alone? It’s alright if you aren’t,” he clarifies, “but I’d have to shift the timetable a bit if that’s the case.”

You blink, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.” He is lying, you are sure. “Just wanted to check before I told the guys I was good to go.”

Something about that statement seems strange to you. “Wait,” you clarify, “why would you go on another mission tonight?”

He averts eye contact.

You lean forward. “How long have I been weird?”

“Not too long, I don’t think. You were out when I got there.”

You reach over, forcing him to look at you head-on. “Are you lying to me?”

He does not answer.

“Has more than a day passed?”

He shakes his head. “It’s only about seven.”

You let go, resting your face in your hands. “so, I’ve been out for, what, sixteen hours?”

“Kinda.” He fiddles with his hands nervously. “A little less, I think.”

“And how long have I been out of it?”

He takes a moment. “You were crying a lot when you woke up,” he concedes. “At about two in the afternoon. I think you cried yourself out, because when I came to check on you—I thought maybe water would help— you were out.”

“Wonderful.” You look up at him. “And was it loud?”

“Not really.” He looks as though he was being interrogated. “I wouldn’t have come, but I left something in here that I needed.” His voice is back to being soft and calm. “You were mumbling about your hands a lot. I actually tied you up,” he chuckles nervously, “because you were moving around so much and getting the shards farther into your back.”

You sigh, something in your stomach sinking. “Probably not a terrible move. Then what?”

“When you started getting normal again,” he continues, “I untied you and got you to stop moving when I started taking the glass out, and I’m guessing you remember the rest.”

You do not say anything.

He stares intently at a corner. “I know this might come off as rude,” he starts carefully, “and I don’t mean to be rude…”

“Spit it out,” you gesture. “Let’s just… what’s up?”

“I honestly do not know enough about this sort of thing to help you.” He looks back at you. “I wish I did, really, but I don’t. I don’t know how you’re wired, mentally, and it’s really not an area I can help you with.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“But I do know,” he continues, “it has to be hard, trying to find help, given the circumstances, especially after everything that’s happened.”

“Please,” you almost beg, “just get to the point.”

“I think it would be a good idea to start spending more time with Master Splinter.” He looks down at his hands. “I think, given that he knows more about this sort of thing than I do, it would be good for you.”

“So, you’re prescribing therapy?”

“I’m not saying you’re crazy—”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The silence is choking you.

“I don’t know if you have a disorder,” he sighs. “Again, not my area of expertise.” He tries to phrase what he means right, and the next few sentences come out slow and deliberate. “All I know is that the people you’ve known your whole life aren’t around anymore, and you’re having really bad nightmares, and that you freeze up when you get really scared. I don’t want you to suffer on our account.”

You stare down at your feet.

“If not because you’re worried about it,” he tries at a different angle, “would you do it as payment for the gloves? That way, it’s not a handout.”

You smile at that. “Hand out.”

It takes a second. “Pun not intended,” he sighs. “I kinda wish it was, now.”

You look up. “I’ll talk to him while you guys are gone on your mission tonight.”

“Thank you,” he breathes. “I appreciate it, really.”

You smile properly. “Hey,” you say, adjusting the blanket. “You take glass shards out of my back and I scratch yours, or something like that.”

He chuckles. “I should probably go let the guys know,” he gets to his feet. “If you want,” he offers, “you can come with.”

“I’ll take a raincheck.” You get up after him, vision blacking out for a moment as you grab the wall for support. “But I can help you grab all your stuff to move out, if you need.”

His eyes go wide. “You don’t have clothes,” he reminds you.

You almost roll your eyes at this particular concern. “Covers more than a bathing suit,” you reason. “I’ll be careful about making sure it doesn’t slip, I promise.”

“But what if it does?”

“Then they should take a picture of the only pair of tits they’ll ever see in person.” You start to hobble towards the door. “I’ve dealt with worse wardrobe malfunctions. I’ll be fine, really.”

“Your flippancy is incredibly concerning.”

You try not to laugh. You look back at him, grin. “Concerning? Me?” You bring a hand to your chest. “I’m offended, sir. Besides,” You giggle, “I need to have a chat with your brothers if that episode is today.”

The look on his face immediately validates your decision. “Could you run that by me again?”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, hand traveling across the open air as if to reveal your statement. “Cockroach. Terminator.”

“Okay, I’m going to need you to give me more explanation again.”

A sharp grin spreads across your features. “Imagine this,” you explain smoothly. “A giant cockroach—“

“Hate it.”

“— that is also a cyborg—“

“Hating it more.”

“— complete with near invincibility—“

“Sounds like my worst nightmare.”

“— with saws.”

“And it is.” Raphael removes your arm from his shoulders. “I’m sold. No more of that.”

“So,” you confirm, leaning back against the wall, “what is everyone not going to do?”

“I dunno,” Mikey admits easily. “I was too busy watching the horror settle on my brother’s face.”

“I’m not horrified—” he protests.

“You are.”

“Am not!”

“Am too!”

“As a neutral bystander,” Leo pipes up, trying not to openly laugh, “yes, you are.”

You keep your eyes focused on Raphael and not the car. “Look,” you cut in, “are you gonna let him do his job or nah?”

“I’m not promi—“

“The hell you ain’t” He shot a furious look at his younger brother. “You best not breathe on Donnie before the roach is back in the car and as far away from that fuckin’ ooze as possible!”

“Reassuring,” you nod. “Good.”

“If you’re so worried about Donnie messing up,” Leo suggests, “why don’t you use the remote control? You’ve watched him work with it before, right?”

You scoff. “I’d rather chop off my hands with a dull knife than get in the death mobile.”

The other two brothers antagonize each other. “It’s not that bad.”

“Isn’t it, though?” You cross your arms, a sick feeling sinking into your stomach at the thought. “Never mind the fact the lead engineer is a teenage boy, or that it’s made of the finest trash, but it’s also a moving, mechanical vehicle driven by another— and I mean this with the utmost respect— rowdy hormonal teenager.”

“Hey,” he protests, “that’s not true.”

“Karai.”

His face heats up. “It was a mistake that I’ve already owned up to.”

You put your hands up. “Look, man,” you clarify, smiling as the crisis is thoroughly averted, “I don’t blame you. Karai isn’t exactly a dime a dozen, and we can all agree she is an extremely formidable fighter who can thoroughly kick your ass.”

Donnie is getting a run for his money with this blush. “What does— she cannot,” he stammers, “and even if she could—“

“Oh, do not even,” you tease. “We all know that her being a formidable opponent who knows every weapon in her arsenal like the back of her hand and uses them well has something to do with why you like her so much. Raph’s the same way.”

Speak of the devil. “What’d you say?”

“You have a thing for strong women who can probably kick your ass.”

He seems to consider this for a minute. “I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Cool. Anyways.” You turn your attention back to Leo. “The point is, as someone who is also into people who can kick my ass— literally or academically— I get the appeal. Also,” you add, grinning like a moron, “her eyeliner game is on point, which doesn’t hurt.”

He blinks. “Do you like Karai?”

“Absolutely. One hundred and ten percent.” You shrug. “She’s badass.”

“More so than Donnie?”

“Are you guys ever going to get in or are you guys just going to stand out there all night?” Donnie pokes his head out of the vehicle. “We’re losing darkness.”

'Saved by the bell.' “Point is,” you say quickly, “I don’t want in that thing. Couldn’t pay me.”

“Leo! Hurry up!”

“Comin’!” He climbs into the Shellraiser, wheels spinning as the team drove off and out of the lair.

You close your eyes.

You do not want to go to Hamato Yoshi for therapy. You will bet money it does not go well.

‘You promised, though. Might as well have, anyways. Did you promise?’

Your morals and ideologies completely clash.

‘Ninjas aren’t all rendered insane. They have to be doing something right, in theory.’

You use the wall for support, already knowing the walk home is going to suck as you limp towards the dojo.

Table of Contents

Chapter 12

Chapter 14

36 notes · View notes

kirindensetsu · 3 years

Text

The Making of Fubuki

((Reposting from Den of Angels workshop thread because I wanted my friends to be able to see~))

After years of pining after dolls I couldn't afford as a broke teenager, my first BJD was a Bobobie Sprite I purchased for my 18th birthday. Unfortunately, she didn't live up to my expectations and I never really bonded with her. Her face was cute enough, but the Bobobie body lacked the grace and posing ability I imagined for the Unseelie faerie I'd been daydreaming of for years. Sueding and wiring didn't help, blushing and tattooing highlighted her blockiness, it was a mess. I packed her away and tried not to think about my disappointment for 12 years. In the meantime I learned to build and paint resin garage kits, inherited one of my sister's dolls, bought some others, took anatomy & physiology in college, and did a couple extensive restorations and full-body modifications. I was sure I had thrown her away at some point as a failed project, but last weekend I found her tucked away in a doll bag I thought was empty. Having just finished substantial mods on a Dollshe body, and awaiting an unfinished Unoa kit for my birthday in September, I decided that I owed it to her to try again. Doll nudity below the cut, looooong post--

My Sprite was originally going to be a pooka with golden eyes and extensive woad tattoos. The golden eyes are incredible, so those are staying, but she's now going to be a blue oni to fit in with the rest of my collection. My plan is to do extensive additive epoxy work, and then to use Krylon Fusion to give everything a unified finish. The goal of the project is to reduce the... idk, STRAIGHTNESS of the old Bobobie body. I was never going to be happy with it, the lines were all far too rigid.

Head: Modified mouth for a wider, smirking smile. Magnets added to headcap (old Bobobie used an S-hook iirc; I did this part back in 2008). Forehead drilled for 3mm brass rod armature, and epoxy used to sculpt horns over rod. Bust: Substantial subtractive modifications to breasts, which involved removal and readdition of nipples. Addition of epoxy clay to back and shoulders to give a more curved body line in profile. Deepening of shoulder sockets with 18mm eye bevel, followed by sanding to make shoulders narrower. Waist: Reshaping of upper torso joint into sphere for smoother range of motion. Subtraction of resin in back and addition of epoxy in front to enhance lumbar curve. Hips: Substantial reshaping of lower waist seam to more naturally follow the pelvic girdle. It reminded me of granny panties before Added epoxy to butt, again for lumbar curve. Thighs: Suwariko joint mod (cut the thigh and added a PVC insert to enable swivelling at the hip). Added epoxy to make her thighs look less straight. Calves: Removed 1cm of length at the ankles and rebevelled the socket. Removed resin at the ankles to bring them in, and added epoxy at the calves to make them curvier. Feet: Sculpted little claws, which were cute, and then decided the feet needed to be 5mm longer. Cut across, drilled and pinned with brass rod for structural strength, gap filled with epoxy clay. I also modded her feet to have defined arches and balls back when I first got her. Alas, spitting into the ocean. I added S-hooks, but did so by drilling the ankle and inserting brass rod to form the axle for the hook. Arms: The proportions on her upper arms BOTHERED me! they were so SHORT! and I only just figured out that's what I hated about them last week! I added 5mm to the upper arms by cutting them in the middle and using SteelStik to make a structural repair (plumber's epoxy putty has a shorter open time but far greater structural strength than artist's epoxy clay). Sanded the heck out of the wrists to give them a more delicate taper. Hands: Beyond salvage. The hands were my least-favorite part of this sculpt. I tried to bulk them up to look less spidery but it was just too difficult... I've ordered a different pair of MSD hands which will have claws added, and then when everything is painted it'll all match. Thanks for reading this far! Here's a preview of what her golden eyes look like next to Krylon Fusion in Antique Blue.

((first progress post)) I think I'm mostly done adding epoxy clay (at least where it'll show; presumably the wrist sockets will require tweaks to fit the new hands), so now it's time for finish sanding. I start with 60 grit for shaping, then switch to a 120 grit sanding sponge. To check for scratches, pinholes, and inadequately feathered edges, I apply a wash of diluted acrylic paint. Once the paint has dried, I scrub the piece with a nylon scouring pad. Paint remains in the surface irregularities.

All sanded with 220 grit. I don't think I'll be going higher than 400 because I want there to be some tooth for the paint.

Any pitting in the epoxy clay that can't be sanded out is marked with a Sharpie and will be patched with Tamiya spot putty.

I did a test spray of the Krylon Fusion on the headcap and it's fantastic! Holy cow is it *poisonous* tho, I'm used to working with volatile chemicals but this was something else. Get OUT OF THE AREA between coats and leave it outside until it stops outgassing, not just until it's ready to handle.

This test piece is four light coats sprayed 1 minute apart, allowed to cure for 4 hours, and then wetsanded to remove the spray texture. It's pretty sturdy but I will wait several more days to see how it continues to cure before experimenting with matte sealants. ((progress update 2))

Haven't done much but sand-and-fill-and-sand-and-fill, but my 14mm beveller came in today so I can start deepening her elbow and ankle sockets. Added some epoxy clay to the insides of the eyewells so 14mm eyes will fit with no gap. I need a needle file to clean up the corners of her mouth... Monster feets! Nails on the right came out better than the left, still need to feather-sand everything.

Elbows progress. The early Bobobie elbows are I guess /technically/ double-jointed because the joint is a sphere with two slots, but I thought I could do better than that. You can see epoxy clay spliced in to make the sphere into a peanut: this isn't a structurally sound repair unless you pop it apart and drill/pin/glue-epoxy it back together.

View from the back. By keeping the joint heads spherical with no elbow-shaped detailing, there's some rotation as well as flexion, which I like.

Touching her face with one of her old hands. I hope the new ones come soon!

((progress update 4))

In good news, these parts are all ready for paint! It's really hard to do prepwork with no filler primer, hope I didn't miss any spots...

In less good news, her new hands arrived and they are... very smol ;u; I forgot that the new trend for slim minis means that everyone has TINY LITTLE HANDS.

They are, however, beautifully sculpted and a good 3D reference for what needs fixing and how. Bobobie palm is very short relative to fingers: I made a transverse cut behind the knuckles and added epoxy to lengthen More curved volume across the back of the hand: Not necessarily realistic, but looks a little cuter, plus it makes the transition into the cylinder of the wrist look less stylistically jarring. More defined joint angles: Some of these I did via cut-and-thermoform repositioning, mostly I'm aiming to fake it by building up and carving away at the weird smooth curves. The fingers are just TOO SKINNY: But obviously I'm not going to squish rice-grain-sized blobs of epoxy to the fingers, right? It's too fiddly, it doesn't want to stick. What's the solution? Brace for a truly hideous WIP image--

"AAAAAAGH WHAT IS THAT DARK GRAY MESS" it's JB Weld epoxy! It's like load-bearing, slow-curing modeller's putty! Slathering putty onto an armature and then carving it away to refine the shape is how anime figure artists make hands and detailed hair. I was thinking about it from a polymer clay technique/perspective so I missed the obvious solution. Hand in the foreground has more layers than the hand in the background, every layer gets the shape a lil closer. ((progress post 5)) Parts set up on sticks so I can handle them without touching...

... and after 4 light coats!

Closeup of the head, lil' glossy because it's still drying. For the deeper areas like the joint slots, mouth, and the crannies of the ears, I'm going to have to decant some of the paint into a jar and apply it with a sacrificial brush.

((progress post 6)) I return from Depression! I finally finished sanding-and-spraying the Krylon Fusion coats, gave her a last polish with microfine to even out the texture, and have started blushing her. I'm using a mixture of Tamiya X-series acrylics applied via airbrush for basic contouring, then I'll go back in with pastel to add warm tones and details.

Fun discovery: in an attempt to cover some accidental overspray, I tried spraying the Fusion directly into the paint cup of the airbrush and using it to "erase" back to the base color. I'm NEVER using this product straight from the can again, it goes on so smooth and gorgeous from the airbrush! No orange peel or bubbles to sand away. I'm seriously tempted to get a can of pink and try blushing with it.

((progress post 7)) Doing a faceup over a spray-painted substrate is HARD I want to CRY. I talked about sanding out the spray texture to get an untextured surface, right? Welp, didn't/couldn't sand well enough in the corners of the mouth and the folds of the eyelids, so it's crusty-looking with pastels over it and now there's nothing I can do about it that doesn't involve stripping down to resin and starting again.

((final post)) Sueded and strung!

I didn't take pictures of the sueding process because I was using Barge Cement and it is messy and time-sensitive. I used masking tape to make templates of her joints, transferred to some thin gray lamb suede I found on eBay, and glued it fuzzy side out. The suede was thicker than real pliver, more like the thickness of silicone KIPS discs, but I think it worked out without too many fit issues. The trim store had 3.5mm elastic in a beautiful slate-blue color that I thought would look nicer in the joint slots, so she's strung throughout with thicker elastic. Some more poses to show off the functional mods~ Suwariko joints let her sit crosslegged, and more mobile wrists let her put her hands into the pose.

A more ball-and-socked shaped contact surface at her waist lets her slouch at a full range of angles instead of being locked into two.

With longer upper arms, she can reach the ground in this pose! You can also see how the modded waist joint lets her cock her hips.

She could always stand with locked knees. I think she needs some wire in her legs to let the suwariko joints hold their rotation against gravity, but I'll see how the elastic tension settles in first.

A parting shot out the snowy window. We've been having a hard time picking between a few names for her, but I think this settles it. Welcome back, Fubuki~

#making-of-fubuki #doll custom #bjd #bobobie

26 notes · View notes

3laxx · 3 years

Text

In Your Dreams - Chapter 1

Looking back to Boscha, terrified, Luz saw that she was suddenly summoning a lot more balls, setting all of them on fire.

She felt her heart sinking.

Oh no.

---

When a grudgby accident shows how fragile humans really are, Boscha is forced to act quickly and Amity's world shatters.

This fic takes place when Luz takes Willow's place in "Wing it like Witches" and explores an alternate ending.

In case the warnings weren't enough, here's another few:

TW blood, violence, injuries, angst, and the characters facing the possibility of death.

Now that everything is cleared up, I hope you have a lot of fun reading!

I'm excited to start creating for this fandom now! ;)

Ao3 / FF.net

---

“It’s after school! Where’s the leader of your loser brigade?”, Boscha greeted Luz in full uniform, flanked by her team. Luz gulped at that but straightened her shoulders.

She had pushed Willow and Gus too hard. She had been the one to get Willow into this mess.

And she was the one to set it right again.

“I’m here on her behalf!”, she made a dramatic break, then she breathed in and propped her hands up on her hips, “We forfeit.”

The shock was visible on the whole team's faces and she could even hear Amity gasping from the sidelines. It had to go that way, Luz told herself, that was the solution to the situation she had created.

“And I’m here to tell you that I’ll take Willows place as your-”, at that she pointed on her fingers, “-water gofer, target practice, whatever you need.”

This caused a little while of silence, before Boscha’s hand sank. She looked down on the ball in her hands and for the first time, Luz heard actual respect in her voice when she spoke.

“Wow, you’re a really good friend.”, that almost made Luz feel at ease. Almost.

Because as soon as she’d said it, Boscha drew a circle and set the grudgby ball on fire. Luz gulped at the hateful smirk Boscha sent in her direction, “And a perfect target!”

The Latina gasped, her eyes widening in shock. She-… Wasn’t actually gonna do that, right?

“Think fast!”, Boscha shouted, then she aimed and threw the flaming ball at her.

Luz could just so jump to the side, grunting at the impact with the ground and the heat of the flaming ball washing over her, before watching a tree behind her falling due to the incredible force with which the young witchling had thrown the ball.

Looking back to Boscha, terrified, Luz saw that she was suddenly summoning a lot more balls, setting all of them on fire.

She felt her heart sinking.

Oh no.

She could just so escape the flaming balls by jumping up and running, yelping in fear as she did. She knew witches were magically enhanced, making them stronger and more resistant, but this was even dangerous for a witch. And her as a human?

Luz didn’t want to know what a sonic ball like the one Boscha liked to cut trees with would do to her human body.

Her memory got hazy when she started running. After a few strides across the field, she was already trying to catch her breath. Damn her cursed nerd endurance. She was never the sporty type!

Flaming and biting balls shot after her left and right when she sprinted into the other direction again, setting off various traps on the field like pillars of fire and spikes, as well as disgusting grabby arms and other, very dangerous things. Luz didn’t think she’d survive this.

She had thought that a lot of times on the Boiling Isles, and she had never actually meant it because her optimism and mostly Eda had ensured that nothing bad would happen.

But right now?

Nobody could stop Boscha. She meant every throw.

This time Luz felt real, actual fear bubbling up in her, clenching her chest and making her breaths go fast. She was doomed this time.

A ball threw her off balance and she stumbled, feeling a sharp pain rippling up her leg. Luz screamed, but she knew Boscha wasn’t taking this seriously. She wouldn’t stop.

“Boscha! B-Boscha, stop, stop, I learned my lesson!”, she tried pleading when she got back up again, trying to hobble away but some spikes blocked her way. She couldn’t run to the sides because she wasn’t fast enough. Turning, she watched Boscha light another ball on fire. In her three eyes, a certain amount of madness flashed, and Luz wondered if she actually wanted to kill her. In the background, Boscha’s teammates finally jumped to action, calling out for their friend and waving their arms while running onto the field, trying to stop her but Boscha wouldn’t.

She didn’t take Luz seriously.

“Having fun yet? Cuz I’m just getting warmed up!”

Luz ripped her arms up at the ball flying towards her. Nobody would be helping her this time.

She was all on her own and she had willingly started this. She didn’t have any glyphs on her.

This was it.

The ball hit her with such a force that she was thrown back against the spikes which had cut off her way. Her arms burned when the flames of the ball started licking on her skin, and she heard a crack when her head connected with the rocks. Her body followed and she felt her feet being ripped off the ground. The force of the blow crushed her spine against the same spike as well while her head fell forwards and she could just so blink before already losing her consciousness.

She never felt herself hitting the ground.

Boscha hesitated when the human took a hard blow. Her team stopped dead in their tracks.

She at least wanted her back on her feet, it’d be funnier to try and hit her again. A moving target was better practice anyway.

But she didn’t get back up.

The ball fell from Boscha’s hands as she shouted over to the human.

“Hey, get up! The practice isn’t over yet.”

Nothing moved.

The witchling had seen a lot of grudgby matches when growing up, and she had played in a lot herself. She knew what unconsciousness looked like. But she didn’t think the human was actually out. Anyone playing grudgby should be able to take a hit like this. It wasn’t even such a strong one. Any witch would get right back up, the human was just playing.

She huffed as stalked over, inconvenienced by this. She didn’t wanna have to be bothered by this.

When she approached, she suddenly saw red. A lot of red.

All around the human was red, a whole puddle, her hair was damp, and she wasn’t moving.

Immediately, Boscha forgot all antics, her status, and quickly strode over, reaching the human and kneeling in her blood. Her uniform was suddenly wet, but Boscha couldn’t care.

Grudgby could be a cruel sport, exactly what she liked about that.

She just hadn’t thought the human would get so badly injured by that. Human anatomy wasn’t something Boscha knew a lot about, but she decided it’d be better not to move her too much. Humans were fragile, she had heard her parents say once when she and her friends had been little and had played human. Her parents had forbidden her to play human ever again because they were weak. Degenerates.

And now she was feeling the pulse of one, her heart suddenly racing. Her pulse was there, weak but still rhythmic. This was actually scary. Boscha had never seen that much blood, all over the human’s clothes, all over her face and hair, and all over the field, a puddle of blood.

Her team now approached, just when panic bubbled up in her throat, but she suppressed it, thought tactical.

“Cat, get the healing professor, as fast as you can! Immediately!!”

Her friend turned and hexed some wings on her shoes, to fly faster. Skara kneeled next to her and wanted to turn her over but Boscha stopped her, her hands full of blood.

“Don’t do that, we might hurt her more. We have to-”

The human’s pulse was getting erratic. Paused for one, two beats, then it resurfaced again. Boscha realized they might not have the time for the professor to arrive.

Suddenly, a yelp and a scream sounded and she turned to the source. Willow, Gus, and Amity had arrived at the field’s sidelines. Willow reacted fast and covered Gus’ eyes.

Amity leaped.

“BOSCHA!!”, she screamed suddenly, furiously. Shit.

Boscha knew Amity had a crush on the human She hadn’t been subtle in hiding it. Girl had been super obvious with her tomato face.

“Amelia, stop Amity.”, Boscha instructed and returned her attention to the unconscious human while checking her pulse again, “Skara, we might need to move her over. She can’t stay face down like that. Cat should be returning with the healing professor soon.”

“BOSCHA, YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A WITCH!!”, Amity screamed from her cage of vines that Amelia had trapped her in. Somewhere deep down, Boscha hurt at her words, but she had to stay focused right now. Amity was emotional and she’d attack her, and touch the human, maybe even try to hug or move her. They couldn’t risk it, “LEMME AT HER, AMELIA, I’LL RIP HER UP!!”

Silently, Boscha was thankful for Willow and Gus not helping Amity. Willow had sent Gus away to get something, water maybe, to keep him distracted, then she came over and sat down next to Boscha while she checked the human’s breathing by leaning down, getting her hair all wet from the blood, but she didn’t even feel that. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, her pulse fading.

“DON’T BE A FUCKING COWARD BOSCHA, FIGHT ME!!”, Amity’s voice broke at the tears forming in her eyes and the sobs bubbling up in her throat but she still pushed against the vines as hard as she could, trying to reach for Boscha who was still far away.

“We need to put her on her back, we might need to do CPR.”, Boscha instructed, her eyes squinted in concentration when she kept feeling the weakening pulse of the human, “Willow, can you make a stretcher of sorts?”

“I SWEAR, BOSCHA, I’LL MAKE YOU FEEL SO SORRY!!”

The girl from the plant track, her rival as she faintly remembered, quickly jumped to action. She created a stretcher from the ground and kicked it to break it off its roots, handing one side to Boscha while staying at Luz’s feet.

“BOSCHA, I SWEAR TO THE TITAN, I’LL KILL YOU!!”

Skara softly cupped the human’s forehead and steadied her hip, while Willow secured her legs. The team captain mirrored Skara’s hand on her forehead and wrapped her arms around the human’s shoulders, and on three, they turned her on her back. She looked awful.

Her brown skin almost looked grey and she wasn’t moving at all. Boscha once again leaned down to check her breathing. Her heart sank.

The human had stopped breathing.

“Fuck. Skara, you hold her shoulder, Willow, her legs. Make sure she doesn’t move around too much. Amelia, come here. You’ll switch with me once I get tired.”

At once, Boscha started pressing down on the human’s chest repeatedly. She didn’t know exactly where to place her hands, because she knew humans didn’t have a bile sac, so she just winged it and put her hands directly over her heart. Counting, she pushed down several times before closing the human’s nose and blowing into her mouth.

Amity only raged more at that, but Boscha didn’t even hear her anymore. The CPR took over all her senses and she went into hyper-focus. Push, push, push a few times, breathe, and again. And again.

Finally, after Boscha switching with Amelia and then back again, cat showed up with her healing professor.

He had brought the Illusions professor with him as well, for safe transport, and after assessing the situation the two of them vanished with the human in a cloud of blue. All that remained were the grudgby girls, Willow and Amity, who had sunk into herself in the vine cage Amelia had created for her, sobbing quietly.

And the big puddle of blood that the human had left here.

Boscha leaned back and fell against the spike that remained standing, against which the human had crashed when she had thrown that ball.

Fuck.

They breathed through for a moment until Willow and Boscha exchanged a gaze. They both had known Amity for a long time. If they didn’t stop her spiral now, she’d let it eat her up. For the first time, Boscha and Willow shared an opinion. They got up and walked over to the cage. Willow sank to her knees next to Amity’s curled-up position and began hugging her, then Amelia released the cage. The vines receded into the ground between Willow’s arms and Amity softly leaned against her old friend, still crying.

Boscha sat down next to them and pulled up her legs, not sure what to say. It had been her fault.

Sure, grudgby was a cruel sport and she had seen a lot of injuries already, but she hadn’t known the human was so fragile that she couldn’t take that hit. A witch would’ve been able to get back up again, to continue after that.

She wouldn’t have attacked the human as wildly if she had known. The picture of the bloodied classmate still shook her, but it was burnt into her memories now. She wouldn’t be able to shake it, ever again, and she felt like she deserved that.

Boscha wasn’t a bad witch. She had enjoyed being in charge, of course, but she had never wanted to hurt someone as badly. She hadn’t known the consequences.

“… I’m sorry…”, she finally mumbled, when the horror settled, “I’m so sorry…”

It wouldn’t bring the human back. She knew that. It wouldn’t make everything okay again.

Much to her surprise, Amity reached out and pulled on her shirt. Boscha looked up to see the puffed and swollen eyes of her friend and scooted closer. She didn’t dare to hug the Blight, but she’d be here for her. Amelia and Skara joined them in their group, as well as Cat. At some point, Gus arrived with some water and snacks for which Willow had sent him. She had figured Gus shouldn’t have to see his friend like this, when already reacting extremely to his flags being broken.

They stayed like this for a little while, until Amity had dozed off against Willow's shoulder, so they called the Blight twins to pick Amity up on the grudgby field so that the grudgby team could go home to change and wash while Willow and Gus would notify Eda.

After Amity had been picked up by her siblings and everyone else had gone home, Willow and Gus started their way down the way through the forest where Luz had always shown up for school.

Willow still hadn’t changed her clothes. Her knees and sleeves were still full of blood, even if she had scrubbed her hands and arms clean in the school.

This wasn’t gonna be easy. They knew Eda could get very protective of her apprentice, and she had almost started acting like a mother for Luz. Telling her that her apprentice was injured wouldn’t be something Willow would be looking forward to.

She nervously rubbed her arm when they got closer to the Owl House, so much so that Gus stopped her arm by touching her.

“Willow, Eda won’t be mad at us.”, he clarified. Sweet Gus.

“No, of course not. But I don’t like bringing bad news.”, she sighed, “And this is very bad news. Gus, we don’t even know if-…”

Gus remained silent, as did she when her voice died. They didn’t know, couldn’t know. What should they even say? There was an accident and now they didn’t know what had happened to Luz?

Willow sighed again when the Owl House came into view, Hooty spotting them already and swinging in to announce their arrival in his high-pitched voice. Willow and Gus flinched as Eda appeared in the doorframe in what seemed to be a grudgby jacket, making the situation all the more real.

The witch mustered them up and down, she had of course immediately noted the absence of her kid and crossed her arms. A defensive action, Willow noticed. When people were scared, uncomfortable, or caged in they often did that.

“Hey, Eda…”

“So, why didn’t you bring Luz back here? Is she in trouble?”, Eda forced a grin when they got closer, probably not having been able to identify the blood on Willow’s clothing, “Did she pull some kinda prank involving paint?”

But there was no humor or bite in her voice. Willow heard the concern and she bit her lip not to let it out yet. Not yet.

She couldn’t start crying now, because then she wouldn’t stop.

“There-… A few girls from the grudgby team gave us a hard day and Luz challenged them. There was an accident.”

Eda’s ears twitched when her face fell. She connected the dots and suddenly, she knew all too well what that kid had on her clothes. Gus comfortingly placed a hand on Willow's back while Eda felt the world swimming and her head being dizzy. That was blood.

“Mrs. Eda?”, the small one now asked, causing the older witch to look back at him, her vision out of focus, “Luz is now in the Healer’s Coven. If you wanna see her, you can go.”

Right, the Healer’s Coven was neutral ground. Eda stretched out her hand and caught Owlbert flying at her, then she got up on her staff.

“Hop on, kids, I’ll fly you home. Hooty, watch the house. King, come on, hurry up!”

They heard a scurrying sound, then some panting, and finally King appeared in the door Hooty closed behind him, just before he jumped up into Eda’s hair and looked out by her cheek.

“What are we doing? Pickpocketing?”, he asked excitedly.

“We’re visiting Luz, little guy, after flying them home.”, everyone had found a seat on her staff and she gave Owlbert a little smack, “Let’s go! They’ll explain on the way there.”

The room was dark when Eda entered. King was asleep in her hair and she carefully nestled him out, then she placed Owlbert on the wall and sat down on the lower end of the Healer’s bed, taking King into her lap.

Luz looked grey and pale in the moonlight, and so small in the sheets. She was only a child.

“Hey kid…”, Eda began, but she couldn’t make her voice work so she whispered, “… You’re such a troublemaker. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve got that from me.”

The witch chuckled when she reached for her hand, a little cool to the touch but alive. Very much alive.

The healers had done an exceptional job patching her up. They had been able to assure that she wouldn’t suffer any long-lasting consequences and that neither her spine nor her brain would be damaged. Softly, Eda rubbed along the back of her hand, then her gaze wandered over the injuries.

Luz’s arms were bandaged from heavy burns. She’d get some nasty scars from that.

Her face was also a little burned but not as bad as her arms. Her skull had gotten quite a beating and she had lost a lot of blood, but the healers had assured Eda it’d be fine. A bandage around her head still proved the serious injury she had suffered.

Her spine had been injured in multiple places but they could fix it again and now they just had to wait a few days until the sleeping spell wore off, to ensure that Luz wouldn’t move for a bit.

Eda got up to sit down on the sofa in the room and make it a little comfortable. She had a few long days ahead of her.

---

I hope you liked it!

If you did, feel free to leave a Like and reblog, if you want! I'll update this fic relatively soon!

Thanks, this means a lot to me! <3

#the owl house #toh #luz noceda #amity blight #boscha #willow park #gus porter #lumity #injury #hurt #comfort #grudgby #accident #blood #angst #fanfiction #in your dreams

28 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

KEEPING UP WITH THE ARIZAS

Michael “Riz” Ariza x Reader

Chapter 6: “The first date: first attempt”

Word Count: 2.3k

Author comments: Warning of some angst, and I'm not even sorry. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, more or less 'cause I cut it to keep Antonio's part, but credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @leaalfred ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

“I can't believe you're gonna actually do'et”.

Your father appeared from nowhere, resting a shoulder on the door frame, cross-armed. He looked at you from top to bottom, rolling his eyes with a snort, while you put your makeup on point with a red lipstick. The rest was somewhat light, but you needed to highlight your lips, one of your best attributes.

“Do what, dad?”

“Trying to ask Riz out”.

“Why?” You inquired turning at him, with both hands supported on the edge of the sink, twisting your neck some inches to the right.

“'Cause he's my friend, my brother”.

“Then, I just have to kill you. Which is a good idea 'cause he could feel guilty for god knows why, so he would want to take care of me. Maybe live together at the ran—”.

“He's older than you. And not even his type”.

“The encouragement you give me… Wao, papá!”

“I'm trying to protect you”.

“Well, thank you. I don't need it, okay? I've been preparing myself since I have fifteen. And… shouldn' you let me commit my own mistakes?”

“Good. I don' wanna hear you cry after him laughing at this… bullshit”.

Those last words felt like a knife stabbing your chest. Almost five years working on it. Trying to be his friend, losing your ass even when he was simply breathing close to you, taking interest in whatever he could be doing (...). It wasn't only a physical attraction. You really found him very intelligent, funny, hard-working and loyal. And it could sounds bad, but sometimes you wished to be one of Vicki's girl, because of the much care he had with them. Almost five years working on it, arming yourself of courage, just to see how it burned among the flames of your insecurities at the end.

You raised your eyes subtly outlined, looking your reflection in the mirror. One minute ago, you were feeling stunning, amazing, out of this world, even sexy wearing a tight black dress over your knees and a heart shaped neckline. It was the first time you were dressing like that, trying to surprise him, being used to see you on your ‘rider outfit’ which is a cool one too. Now you felt ridiculous, with some painful lashes running under your chest, snorting because you knew your father was right. Taking off the makeup from your face with a wipe, your father put his head out the door.

“Are you re—? What are you doing? For god's sake, (Y/N), when I get to the party, there will be no beer! Those fucking prospects drinks more than the fuckin' Charlie Sheen on his day off”.

“I forgot I have an exam next week, leave to the clubhouse”. You just said, cleaning the red color covering your pinky lips.

“Mi amor, listen…” He raised a hand close to you, being stopped before he could touch you.

“Dad, just fuckin' leave! Okay? I'm fucking fine”. Interrupting him, you threw the wipe inside the sink with a sudden move. “I fuckin' get it. Your brother. Older than me. With interest in women, not in… in… I don' even know what the fuck I am”.

“Cariño...”

“A fuckin' clown, dad. That's what I am. A. Fucking. Clown”. You pointed out every word on air with your left forefinger.

“You don' need to be this rude”.

“Well, fuck you for breaking my fuckin' heart, instead of telling me ‘go, do it and if he doesn't want you, I'll hold you’. That's what a normal father would say to his daughter”.

“I didn' mean to hurt you”.

“But you did”. Turning at your father to face him, you took off the black dress raising it on air hanging it in your fingers. “I had to work at Bernardino's one month to afford it, and all the makeup you see here. From dusk till dawn, surrounded by creepy drunk old men”.

“I could have paid it for you”. He said then, with a guilty tone of voice because of everything.

“But, that's not the point, dad! I was trying to show Riz I can also earn my own jack”. You leaned towards the toilet where you left your huge Mayan's black shirt to wear it. “Go to the party, get drunk with your brothers, fuck some chick and have fun”.

Your father toured his incisors with the tip of his tongue, nodding in silence. After clean the mess in the bathroom and keep all your stuff there, you just lay down in bed hugging one of your big pillows. You were waiting for that weekend for five long days away at the university, as every week since you move out of Santo Padre to San Diego.

You didn't know you had keep it. You totally forgot it and finding it brings you bittersweet memories of that night and what happened the days after. Giving a spin over the black high-heels, putting well the tight dress on, you have a look in the mirror. Still fitting like a glove to your anatomy. And you're incredibly stunning in it. You like it, you have always liked. But you don't feel like you can use it. It's like if it is going to bring some bad luck to your relationship.

“Shit, you look like a cheap bitch, baby”.

You were so self-absorbed, that you haven't realized Riz was resting his back on the door frame.

“Yeah, I'm gonna ask Vicki to be one of her girls, 'cause you can't even find your small cocky”.

Teasing each other all the time it's a current mood. And you love it. Turning at him and focus all your attention in your husband, your eyes notice the way he tied his hair in a small black bun with some bristles falling by his temples. No matter how many years can pass away, he will run you out of air with the most minimal detail.

“Are we celebrating something?” Riz lifts up an eyebrow, licking his lips. Not being nervous, but excited about the idea. “I know every special date and today isn't one of them”.

“It's just a dress, Michael”.

“Really? I was about to ask you to marry me again”. He chuckles crossing both arms on his chest covered by leather.

“I bought it seven years ago, for a… date I should have had, and that never happened”.

Riz's jaw get tense from zero to one hundred, just in a second. His gesture turns into somewhat more confused, when he notices the sadness and the pain in your voice. You never told him about that night, but maybe could be a good moment to do it. Your eyes come back to your own reflect in the mirror, before taking off the shoes, heel against heel losing almost seven inches of high.

“One month working in a… bikers' pub, enduring bullshit, to buy it. But I stayed at home”.

Riz isn't sure if he wants to know how a guy broke your heart, but he's pretty sure he doesn't want to know why you kept that dress, seeming it like the dead body of a bad memory. And you're talking about something that happened seven years ago. Before being together, so he's starting to make his own Netflix movie in his head.

“I was i—”.

“I don' wanna fuckin' hear it”. He just raises a hand slightly, shaking his head.

“Why?”

“I don' give a fuck about what you did seven years ago”.

His hardened voice gives you some chills around your back, knowing he's really angry because of what he's imagining. Something too far from reality.

“Take that fuckin' dress off”.

And that is the best confirmation to know the grade of his annoyance.

“Riz, I wanna tell you something”.

“Fuck, no! You have told me a million times that I was your first love. Your only one. But something happened seven years ago that broke your fuckin' heart and fucked you down, and you keep that… clothe you were gonna use with him. How the fuck should I feel, ah? So you lied to me and… what? I was the second choice?”

“You should be a film director”.

“Good, thank you for first hurting me and then fucking laughing in my face”.

“Could you plea—?”

“FUCK, NO, (Y/N)! I'm fucking disappointed right now!”.

For a second you could swear that your husband is about to cry, with his eyes getting reddened. You can feel the tension in his body, seeing how furious his chest grabs and expels the air.

“It was my father”. You say then, before giving him the opportunity to leave the room. “My father broke my heart, actually. Even if the date wasn't with him. It was me who didn't go”.

Now, he's a little more confused, turning at you after giving you his back some seconds ago.

“Actually, me and… the ‘other guy’... we never talked about having a date. I just… wanted to force it. I mean, he was my friend. The point was come to the clubhouse and maybe earn some time together, alone”.

Yes, you're making him suffer a little, but he never was clear with you. So it's a kind of payback. And you know exactly what he is thinking. Clubhouse, Mayan, friend, seven years ago: Angel. He has been your best friend since ever.

“I can't fuckin' believe you…” He whispers letting his head falling down, until his chest meets his chin, laughing between teeth bitterly.

“But my father told me that he would never notice me, as I wanted, as I wished it. Do you wanna know why?”

“Fuck, no. And fuck you, (Y/N)”.

You have to do a big effort to not break in laughter, walking closer towards him.

“Because he was his brother. He was loyal. And a little bit older than me. Apparently I wasn't his type either”.

“I'm fuckin' done with this… bullshit, (Y/N)”. He says then whilst moving his hands about to lose his mind, walking away from the main room, looking for his helmet to leave the house.

You don't move a single inch of your body, waiting just one second before raising your voice.

“But he finally noticed me, 'cause I broke a bitch's nose who was talking shit about him!”

Silence. You can't hear his heavy boots touring your home. Riz is standing next to the principal door, and you don't need to be looking at him to know it.

“That night when Coco was full patched! I was ready to go and ask him out!” You add dancing your hips from the left to the right slightly, waiting patiently for Riz to coming back. “I was mentalizing myself for almost five years to do'et! But I thought my father was right! And I decided not to do it 'cause… I was more scared of losing that friendship, than him breaking my heart”.

Even if that last sentence is recited something low, you're sure he has heard it, with his steps walking through the hallway right to the room.

“But… well, I finally got my date, but I didn't use that dress just in case it brought me bad luck. I was too in love, to ruin it for a superstition. And I kept it in a bag”.

Riz appears again with pursed lips and his dark eyes on his feet. A little ashamed because of his words, but still being mad because of you making him believe something it wasn't true just to tease him.

“And…” Taking some steps close to the Mayan, you grab the helmet to leave it above a chair, placing his hands on your waist after that. “I made him the love of my life, my best friend, my confidant, the prize of my good karma, my soulmate…”

“All that?”

“Nope, I made him a lot of things more. But those are the most important”. Traveling your hands to his shoulders and lifting up yourself on your tiptoes, you kiss your husband with all the love you feel inside your chest. Slowly, enjoying it.

Sometimes you forget how lucky you are of having Riz by your side, and sometimes he does it too, but you know you own the whole world being together. He's the most kind man of all. The most loving, pleasing and empathic husband you could ask for. Always working hard to make you smile, to make you feel like a goddess, to make you feel proud of what you two have. Michael lives for you, and you live for him.

Deepening the kiss a little more by straining his tongue between your lips, his fingers go up to your cheeks caressing them and pushing you closer to him, with his scent intensifying and flooding your lungs. His mouth molding perfectly to yours, as always, so slow that steal you a soft gasp tangling your hands on his wrists.

“I have never felt love for anyone it's not you, mi rey”. You say almost in a whisper, when you pull away yourself a second to take some air, touching his nose with yours. “And marry you for a second time sounds so good…”

“Change your clothes, mi amor”. Riz soughs, eyes closed, with a silky loud tone bristling your skin. “We're leaving”.

“To Las Vegas?” You sound excited as a five years old about to go to DisneyWorld for the first time, even if you're already married.

“You wanna marry me again?”

“I wanna marry you every day of my life, Riz”.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #michael riz ariza x reader #riz ariza x reader #riz ariza #michael riz ariza #keeping up with the arizas

128 notes · View notes

atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Text

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {7}

Summary: Dealing with the truth isn’t easy, especially when there’s a soulmate bond involved.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing

Word count: 4000+

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are, Isak Danielson - Love me Wrong, Dove Cameron - Remember me, Tom Odell - Can’t pretend, The XX - Angels, Coldplay - Fix you, Coldplay - The scientist, Elvis Presley - Can’t help falling in love.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ikari (noun) - anger/strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility

Very few moments in our lives are time-stamped, just frozen in one particular second of an achingly long minute of a horribly long hour. That's when time stands still and we're left with a choice - to be the force that makes it move or be a victim of the one who does and Ethan wasn't sure what to choose.

Taking her quivering lips and trembling chin into account, those beautiful eyes of hers clouded with doubt and hurt but not hate...even then she couldn't hate him. Love and hate are the same train, only in forwards or reverse gear. Her chest rose quickly with each breath, her exhales coming out as huffs instead of proper airflow and her hands laid at her side as defenseless as she must feel. She has blood in her eyes while blood drains from his face.

He doesn't feel like he deserves to be the one to end the silence. It's not as if he wouldn't be happy to be a father now or many times after as well, but it's the way it's come to be and it's the deceit that had forced this moment of reckoning.

"Nothing to say? Because I have plenty. To. Say." She spat the words out like they're poison collecting on the tip of her tongue, her eyes narrowing as tears begin to spill and Ethan really has no words to say because what the hell could he ever say that would make it better? And she’s fighting for the good memories of them to remain unaltered, to remember the reasons to be kind. She’s fighting to keep herself empathic even as every terrible thing she had predicted is coming true in this instant. For Y/N, that's the betrayal, Ethan’s lack of willingness to fight the negative thoughts and think the best of her, to recall her soul as it was when they first met instead of loving the soul that evolved by his side.

"You kept this from me for six months, Ethan! You watched me squirm whenever I asked about your soulmate and you said NOTHING!" Her hands bawl into fists and the veins in her neck become prominent and while he swallows thickly, Ethan prepares for the worst of it. She's just starting and she has every right to get it off her chest and onto him. He deserves it all.

"I've been haunted by a soulmate that doesn't exist! God, Ethan, do you even have any idea how fucking distraught I've been over that?! And then this!" Pointing at the positive test at his feet, Ethan can tell her hands are shaky but so is her entire body. Her emotions are completely in control, her rage at its peak, but he can't help the tiny bit of joy inside him at the fact that she's still there. She may be screaming at him, but she's there, not running away like she would have done months ago but staying long enough to at least argue.

"I've mourned our children, Ethan!" Her voice is raspy and devastatingly painful, his heart desperately flailing inside his chest as her grief overcomes her and he can't touch her, he can't make it go away. This time, he's the cause instead of being her cure. In her pain she thought he’s the bad guy, yet in truth he’s drowning in a sea of uncried tears too.

"I've mourned the children I thought we couldn't have! I've let that go, given up on it entirely because I wanted you more than -", her voice breaks and a sob fills the pause that wrecks Ethan from inside out and his own tears fall uncontrollably and while he knew it would be better if he stays on the other side of the room, he had taken a step closer and she didn't take one back.

Swallowing a lump inside her throat, she shakes her head at him and speaks again, no longer screaming but her quiet tone is making it worse. It hit him hard. Her words are like nails and hammers breaking his heart apart.

"I would have given it all up for you. I didn’t give a fuck about the soulmate I might have, because you're all I can see. I would have given up having children of my own, for you. I would have forgiven you for lying to me all this time, Ethan, I would have. I was going to." Wiping her tears off, she rubbed her nose absentmindedly before her gaze fell on that test again, her own heart aching.

Did she want kids? Yes.

Did she want Ethan's kids? Definitely.

But like this? It wasn't quite the way she imagined it at all and not at a time where she's finishing her intern year. There were far too many things she wanted to do differently, to make it special. Who even gets pregnant by accident in this world anyway? She felt like a cosmic joke.

"I didn't even fucking care that you lied, I was just happy you were finally mine and then I remember the times you insisted on condoms and I though why not fuck with him a little?” Chuckling in disbelief, she actually smiled through the tears but it was far from happiness on her face.

“Just to relieve some the tension and I don't even know why I took the test, probably because of what Grayson asked today, but no matter how badly I wanted kids with you, this isn't the way or time I wanted it to happen." Moving to the bed, Y/N let herself sit on the edge, folding her hands in her lap as she lets out a long, heavy sigh. Her sigh was of a softly deflating, it was as if a tension had lifted yet left her with a melancholy instead of relief.

"I love you. I really fucking do. I just don't like you right now."

Moira - a person’s fate or destiny

Ethan couldn't stay away any longer after finally hearing her say those words and mean them, no shooter with a gun to her head, no nothing. In fact, she said it after he royally fucked up, that's got to mean something, right? Moving toward her as if gravity itself demands it of him, Ethan knows this might end badly for him, but it's a risk he has to take. For her, he has to.

Kneeling down, he got in her line of sight and while she rolled her eyes at him at first, she fixed her gaze on him after.

"I was scared you'd leave me. That you'd run and I'd never see you again. And I fucked up, I should have told you and I just...the longer it went on, the harder it was to...justify it all. But none of it was justified, because I never stopped being afraid." Daring to lay his palm on her thigh, Ethan nearly smiles when she doesn't tense up or move away, allowing him a mercy he didn't feel worthy of. Fear is an incredibly powerful influence, it is also a disguised demon. But Y/N? She’s always been too kind, too patient and he never really knew why up until now – she loves him just as much he loves her.

"I understand why you didn't tell me. I do. I just wish you had more faith in what we share...in me. You were everything and I don't know how to go back to that? Was I ever just a girl you love or was I always the soulmate you felt the obligation to love?" And that hurt him. That insecurity, the doubt, the unwillingness to believe she is without a doubt the only woman he would ever love, it broke him.

"With or without it, I'd have lived a thousand years if it meant you'd be waiting for me in the end. There is no one, past or present, I would put before you. I love you, with everything I am - heart and twenty one grams of soul." Sniffling, Ethan laid his other palm on her leg as well, holding onto her as if she's his sole anchor to the world.

"And I fucked up, big time, and I'd love nothing more than to make it up to you and it's not how I planned it either, but I think we have a chance to make something beautiful here. If you’ll have me, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you", leaning toward his nightstand, Ethan opened the drawer and pulled out a tiny black box. Never in his life had he felt like he couldn't breathe, as if his lungs are burning for their dying breath, but when her eyes widen as he adjusts his position, making sure he's on one knee as he should be, Ethan forgot how to breathe.

"Marry me." Mustering the words with the last of his strength he watched her in hope, aware this is yet another thing he didn't want to do quite like this but it felt right. If she needed to know how much he loves her, he would go the extra mile.

Most soulmates don't get married because why would they when fate had sealed their fates together anyway. But he wanted to do that. He wanted to show her his love is stronger than anything and that she isn't just his soulmate, but the love of his life - his best friend and lover and his favorite person. Without her, he didn't see a future at all.

“You want me to”, she paused, trying to say the next words calmly instead of freaking out as openly as her heart is, “marry you?”

Seeing him nod had only fueled the last bit of anguish inside her, but then he smiles so nervously, revealing just how scared he truly is and she doesn’t want to make it worse because she doesn’t even know what she wants to do with everything that had been revealed. It’s always been impossible to truly resist him, feeling as if it might kill her, but this time she didn’t want to resist. Y/N didn’t want to fight anymore. What she needed is Ethan, even if he’s the last person she should care for right now.

Reaching for the box, she takes it from him gently. Taking a moment to look at the beautiful ring, she swallows thickly before closing the box altogether. His lips part open as a quiet gasp leaves him, his eyes forming more tears as she sets the box back on the bed and turns to him.

“I don’t think we need to make major decisions right now. If it’s alright with you, I’d rather just go to bed – no talking, just you and me.” And he can hear just how defeated, how drained she is and he can’t even imagine what it is for her and how heavily the baby must be affecting her, so he doesn’t challenge her. Swallowing every word he wants to say, biting back his tongue, Ethan just nods as he sits up, next to her.

Wrapping an arm around her, Ethan pulls her into his side, holding tightly as her arms circle around him and hold him closer. He doesn’t wait, moving them back onto the bed, not leaving her for a single second. It might as well be the last time she allows him to hold her so close, so intimately that he can feel her heart beating against his chest and he won’t waste the chance. He didn’t care about anything but her love - he’d have her love him wrong if she can’t love him right. Anything, but to be away from her - this night or any other.

Instead of creating space, he kisses her forehead and while she tried her best not to, a fleeting smile appeared on her lips. Draping a leg over his, she hides her head just under his chin, resting it on his chest as his fingers thread through her hair at the back of her neck. And just like that, in their silence, Ethan and Y/N laid together until emotions settled and their eyes closed for the night – too in love to let each other go.

Metanoia (n.) - the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, way of life

When morning came, Y/N was surprised to find herself alone in bed. She figured Ethan must have been paged and while a pang of hurt, jealousy even, followed, she couldn’t be mad at him for that. After all, she understands it comes with the job and while she hoped he’d take the day off to figure things out and make a definite choice on what they will do moving forward, she sighed. He’s got her devotion, but she really hates him sometimes.

She doesn’t want to fight him, nor sleep alone ever again, but this isn’t just like any other fight – this is a big deal, possibly the biggest of them all. How can she forgive him? Is it fair to crave him like the very air she breathes at the same time as her heart is wide open, bleeding because of his actions? But then her hand lingers on her stomach and she almost smiles with the thought of a small part of him being with her now, even when he’s not really there.

Flinging an arm to the empty place beside her, she finds herself wishing his beautiful smile was there to make the day lighter. Even now, she wished for his arms around her, to hear him say he loves her most ardently.

Groaning, she shakes her head at her own stupid self. Perhaps now when she had experienced soulmate love, a part of her forgave her parents for the way they acted – not with her but each other. Her mother forgave his father for the worst of sins, something Y/N couldn’t fathom at the time, but she’s now in a similar situation and it’s exhausting being angry with him…especially when new life is growing inside her and it’s a part of the person she loves most in the world. And no matter how sudden and unexpected it all is, she would never be like her parents. Her child would never feel unwanted or abandoned, she swore it. Even if it’s probably just a clump of cells, she fell in love with the baby. Ethan fucked up, but this baby isn’t guilty of any sin. The baby is a gift, she decided. And she’ll make him suffer, but Ethan is a gift as well and eventually she’ll forgive him. She’ll be graceful, forgiving, become his warmth in the cold of his long, lonely life. People think that forgiveness is weakness, but it's absolutely not; it takes a very strong person to forgive and if anything, Y/N had become a strong individual with so much love to give and she’d give it to him…and their baby.

Yawning, she stretched before sitting up, a little woozy but in need of food. She had barely had anything to eat yesterday and her growling stomach wasn’t shy about reminding her of that fact. However, as she put his shirt on, she found herself missing him dearly. Resting her cheek on her own shoulder just to feel his scent better, she realized just how ridiculous she is, yet she enjoyed it anyway.

Tiptoeing to the kitchen, she quickly realized she was sorely mistake. Ethan didn’t abandon her this morning at all, he was just trying to be… for the lack of a better word, Ethan.

The table is set, her favorite flowers in the middle, stacks of pancakes already prepared. She tilts her head to the opened fridge and a man’s ass being the only visible thing at this point and she’d know his ass anywhere. As the fridge closes, she’s met with a peculiar sight – his hands are full with different dressings, he’s even got a pack of cream in his mouth and she can’t help but shake her head at him fondly, gracing him with a small smile.

“Ey”, he manages something resembling a greeting, his eyes wider as if he got caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. She’s fast by his side, grabbing the pack from his mouth before she says “Hey” too. He can’t help but notice his shirt on her, but he thought it would be safer not to comment on it.

“Since eggs make you sick, I thought you might like pancakes.” Ethan shrugged with an innocent, but hopeful smile. Exhaling through her nose, Y/N raises an eyebrow.

“I’m fine with eggs, E. It was part of the…joke. But I won’t argue, I love pancakes.”

And so they ate, glancing at each other awkwardly and while it’s completely unacceptable, Ethan wished he’d let him touch her stomach. The baby’s merely a blob at this point, but he really wanted to feel her stomach, to feel connected to both of them.

“Do you think Grayson is free today?” Y/N breaks his inner monologue. Blinking fast, Ethan nods, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because I want to do a checkup. I want to know everything is in order.” And that’s when Ethan stopped blinking altogether. In fact, he barely swallowed the last piece without choking.

“You want my brother to”, he stopped before he made things worse but Y/N picked up on what he means easily, rolling her eyes at him in irritation.

“I want him to do the ultrasound if it’s possible, a few labs, not a vaginal examination. I’ll ask Addy for that.” She explains, making it very, very clear she had no intention of letting Grayson anywhere near her lady parts.

Nodding, Ethan texted Grayson immediately, making it clear he’s to clear his schedule if he needs to and right when breakfast was over, the pair got ready and went into the clinic.

“Can I be happy for you?” Grayson whisper shouted in excitement as he lead them inside the room, all but clapping like a little kid, trying his best to ignore the glare Ethan is trying to kill him with.

“I’m still very angry with you. What you can do for me is do an ultrasound.” Y/N sent him a glare of her own, definitely more dangerous than Ethan’s, enough to make Grayson pipe down and press his lips together to hide any possible excitement as Y/N laid down and bared her stomach for him. Ethan settled on the chair beside the bed, his hand taking hers, interlocking their fingers and while she did glance at him in surprise, she didn’t fight his touch, rather tightened her hold on his hand in response.

“Did you draw blood?” Grayson questions as he starts the examination, trying to ease the tension that suffocated him. It’s evident she isn’t happy with either of the twins, but he didn’t expect to take so much heat for this. They’ve been friends this entire time, he thought it would have eased her anger but it seems that’s exactly what fueled it. He should have pushed Ethan to tell her sooner rather than later, maybe then they’d be laughing as they’re doing something so significant, something he’s dreaming of. He can’t wait to meet his soulmate, to fall in love and have kids and be more than what he is now. It’s nice to have more time to travel the world and find yourself, but the past fifty years have been too much. He’s been ready for a while now, he just can’t wait for her to be ready too.

“Yes. It will be back in a few. They did me a favor and put it first for testing.”

“I know you’re mad at me, princess, but this is the first baby Dolan and I’m still excited to be an uncle.” Grayson points out, only making Y/N confused.

“Didn’t you say your sister found her soulmate and is happy in Australia?”

“She did. But she isn’t romantic with her soulmate. They live across the street, but she’s married to someone else. They adopted three kids though. But it’s been a while since she died. Cameron found her soulmate when she was thirty and they had fifty two years together. We see her grandkids though.” Ethan responded, somber as he remembers the sister he loved dearly even if they didn’t always get along. She was always closer to Grayson and he struggled most when she passed even though they watched her grow old and she was very, very happy. That’s the curse of living so long – you see those you care for find their happiness and die while you’re frozen at twenty. It’s what Grayson fears the most – watching his brother grow old and die while he’s stuck as he is now.

Grayson nods, confirming Ethan’s words before licking his lips and his eyes narrow, making Y/N frown. Something doesn’t feel right. Grayson is never quiet, even if he’s trying not to get himself killed by her and maybe it has something to do with remembering his sister, but he’s too focused on the screen and his forehead is starting to glisten from sweat. The guy didn’t shut up the whole time as he did a breast ultrasound, so why did he quiet down now?

“You’re quiet. I don’t like it.” She spoke up, craning her neck to try and see the monitor and Ethan did the same.

Clearing his throat, Grayson turned to her with a small smile.

“Just need more gel.” Adding more of the cool gel on her stomach, Grayson emerges himself further into the ultrasound just as a knock on the door makes Y/N gasp.

“It’s Addy, I have the labs.” It’s time for Ethan to sweat because while Y/N may be perceptive and see that his brother is acting weird, he’s been with him for over a hundred years and he knows when something is off right from the start. Ethan sighs as the doctor enters. The sigh that came was a signal, not of his resolve leaving but of the level his tension had reached. Doctors aren’t usually ones picking up results, especially not experienced ones like Abby. Perhaps it’s special treatment because it’s Y/N and well, him, but he couldn’t help the odd feeling inside his chest that something’s amiss.

“Hello, dear. I got the call from the laboratory, so I thought I’d pick these up for you.” She smiles sweetly at Y/N and only then notices how serious everyone is. Seeing Ethan’s hand in Y/N’s only makes her smile wider, showing just how happy she is for Ethan to have found someone like Y/N. Addy wouldn’t comment on it, but she was wishing them a bright future.

“Thank you, Addison.” Grayson nods at the iPad, gesturing for her to hand it over and she’s quick to do so before excusing herself, leaving them alone.

“I swear to God if you don’t start speaking, I will start breaking things.” Y/N’s voice is low and threatening and her eyes are hard, but it doesn’t make it easier for Grayson at all.

“Your blood-work shows higher levels of Beta HCG, something that would show in a pregnancy.” Grayson starts, only to get interrupted with a very relieved chuckle from Ethan who was getting worse at hiding his joy over the pregnancy with each passing moment.

“You scared me. I thought there was something wrong.” But Ethan’s smile died down when he noticed Grayson’s gloomy face. There was no hints of joy on his face at all, just confusion and worry.

“There is something wrong, isn’t it?” Y/N forced herself to say it, to hear herself admit it. She wants this baby so bad, even if it isn’t the right timing nor way, but she does want the baby. Just this morning she felt…lucky for being able to get pregnant after thinking it wasn’t in the cards for her. She felt hopeful, and she didn’t feel lonely anymore. With Ethan and a tiny Ethan around, she saw her future filled with smiles and now? She couldn’t grasp it. It felt like she lost everything.

“Say it.” She insisted, because she needed to hear it. She needed to know. And though he knew he shouldn’t, Grayson said it.

“I can’t find the heartbeat.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tags: @beinscorpio @peacedolantwins @heyits-claire @dolandolll @godlydolans @dolanstwintuesday @ethanhes @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12 @zeusgrayson @libradolan @justordinaryjen @pineappledolan @graysavant @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan @shadowsndaisies @maybgrayson @dolans4lyfe @mendesficsxbombay @fxkthatdairy @sharpdolan @hollietee1

Anyone crossed out wasn’t able to be tagged, probably an issue on Tumblr’s side, sorry.

#dolan twins #ethan dolan #grayson dolan #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan fluff #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan au #ethan dolan doctor soulmate au #ethan dolan doctor au #ethan dolan soulmate au #ethan dolan series

58 notes · View notes

ditch-witches · 4 years

Text

Eyeliner II (Dean-Charles Chapman Smut)

thank you to the darling @chokopieeater for the gorgeous moodboard. i love you

(PART ONE)

requested: yes/no (I am but y'all's humble servant.)

pairing: band member!Dean-Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: smut shit, lots of filler crap as well

word count: 4k (º-º)

a/n: I just wanna thank my girl, Iv, again and that superior 5sos album for getting me through this.

After your first date, you and Dean became inseparable, quickly falling head over heels into your relationship. It had gotten to the point where even when you weren’t with him, he was always on your mind. Little things reminded you of him like the incessant pencil tapping or pen clicking from the guy sitting beside you during lab or your green sweater that he always seems to compliment and can’t stop touching whenever you wear it.

You could be gone for hours on end, not intentionally, but because of Dean’s shitty car. You didn’t know what make or model but it was some kind of Frankenstein’s motor-monster and you never complained about it. Most of the time it had a mind of its own, and Dean had made it his mission in life to tango with its independence from him. There would be times when he’d be driving the two of you to a movie or dinner---the both of you attempting to talk over the loud radio that had only two volumes: ear rape and silent---when it would just sputter out and die, leaving the two of you to walk towards the next town over in hopes of finding a gas station. In complete honesty, you enjoyed the car. It gave you more time with Dean, who never seemed to get frustrated at it. Whenever it did break down, you always expected to look over and see him red in the face, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, but instead you received a shrug and him holding his hand out to help you out of the piece of shit. That was another thing, the passenger side door was stuck shut so you had gotten pretty good at slipping in and out of the window. Dean claimed it was because the car was meant to race; “a stallion” to be more specific.

You knew the door was just rusted shut.

When you weren’t pushing the stallion to the nearest auto parts store on a Friday night, you and Dean found yourselves cooped up in one of your apartments or out with a group. Your friend still insisted on going to each of the band’s shows, which you really didn’t mind anymore, especially since you got to experience Dean’s confidence on stage being the one that mirrors his confidence in the bedroom. Your friend knew you and Dean had gone out a few times, but you were positive she wasn’t aware of just how much the two of you were together. And that you were thankful of, knowing full well she would blow everything completely out of proportion and make you think too much about having him around.

One day, when your late afternoon classes were canceled due to the professor’s spontaneous trips to Israel, you had the perfect opportunity to tangle yourself up with Dean. The warm glow in the room mixed with your after sex bliss as Dean lazily strummed a guitar (often finding ways to catch your attention with old riffs from The Cure, his favorite being Lovesong), propped up on the window seat tucked in the corner beside his bed. His curls, rather wild and untamed from the lack of hair product and working from your fingers. His eyes seeming brighter as the light from outside drew lines across his face. You twisted in his comforter to stretch your back as you watched him furrow his brows in an attempt at pulling chords from his memory and matching them with others.

You could prop your chin in your hand and listen to him hum slightly, in his own little world, until the end of time if you were given the opportunity. His voice was always slightly raspier, especially in moments like this. His acoustic versions, especially of the Cure, had become your favorite, mainly because you knew they were just for your ears and something about having such intimate gifts from him made your moods fuzzy and soft. The first time you stayed over, you were surprised there hadn’t been sheet music thrown about, expecting to find it shoved in awkward hiding spots of his room, but it was mainly on the window seat, where he usually played, or his desk on the other side of the room. You loved seeing him finally getting something he was happy with or constructing a lyric he liked and feverishly looking for clean space in his notebook to write it down before he forgot and it was gone forever. He seemed to have been writing a lot lately.

“Did you ever play an instrument?” He asked, his eyes darting up to look at you through his long eyelashes as he threw the notebook and pencil on the ground next to him. “I mean, besides in marching band.”

You snorted at his question. “Oh gosh. You’re gonna make fun of me,” you quipped.

“I thought that’s what we did, gorgeous?” He answered with a smug look on his face. “Come on, tell me.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I used to be really into the Dixie Chicks, so I learned how to play the banjo.”

He laughed in disbelief. “No.”

“Yes,” you nodded, wincing slightly.

He giggled. “Wait,” he wet his lips and sat up slightly, beginning to strum an all too familiar song. “You’re going to have to help me with the words.”

“Dean, stop-”

“CoWbOy, TAKE ME AWAY-” You bolted from his bed and took the guitar from him as he giggled, grinning at you like an idiot. You took a seat across from him, tucking one of your ankles under your leg and shivering slightly, only Dean’s t-shirt and your shorts to keep you warm after being bundled up for so long. You rested the guitar in your lap and Dean crossed his legs, scooting closer to you.

“Never do that again,” you grumbled and he laughed again, lacing his fingers together. “Since you always play for me…” You strummed your hand across the wires, the instrument feeling more foreign than when you picked up a flute last year for the first time since high school. You chuckled shortly, “I’m a little rusty.” Dean couldn’t help but beam as you blushed mildly, beginning to play what you could remember of I Believe in Love’s chorus. As you sang lightly, trying not to seem like you were putting much effort behind what you were doing, you caught his gaze and he inhaled rather sharply, his eyes dancing with softness as he watched you. You smirked slightly as he watched you closely, seemingly loving every second of your short song, physically gushing as he usually bright smile eased blissfully. You finished, looking at him with a sarcastic, “Taddah.”

He leaned forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to close the space between you, searing the moment into your memory with a kiss you could feel in your toes. He always kissed you like everything was relying on the way he did it. With Dean, every kiss mattered, but this kiss seemed to encompass everything he wanted to say. The sweet taste of your vanilla chapstick blended with the smell of his cologne as his warm breath flared over your cheek. You sighed against his lips moving your hands into his hair and relishing his actions.

You don’t remember getting home that night, but as you damn near floated into your apartment, you figured not even your essay due the next day could ruin your mood. Of course, that was until you realized your friend had gotten home before you and was standing in the kitchen with a juice box. Your eyes went slightly wide at the shock and she tilted her head. “Where’ve you been?” Her smirk meant she knew exactly where you were.

You shrugged slightly, “Studying. I had the afternoon off.”

“It’s seven.”

“...Right…” Your eyes darted around the room.

She bit back a wider grin before moving around the counter towards you. “Must have gotten a lot of homework done then. What subject? Anatomy?” You rolled your eyes at her joke and she pulled you into a hug, fully welcoming you home before leaning back from you quickly. You looked at her with furrowed brows and she narrowed her eyes. “You smell familiar…”

You chuckled. “Am I not supposed to?”

“No, you smell familiar, but not like you. You smell like Dean.” You pursed your lips together, looking at her like she was crazy. “Dean’s still the one you’re sneaking around with!” Her expression flipped on a dime to excitement and she giggled. “I KNEW IT.”

“STOP.”

“Jeez, that’s why he’s so happy. I mean, more than usual.” You sighed as she continued. “God it totally makes sense though. That why he ALWAYS LOOKS AT YOU LIKE HE’S IN LOVE WITH YOU-”

“QUIT. HE’S NOT IN LOVE WITH ME.”

“Dean wants to marry you. He wants to kiss you. He wants to lOooVe you,” she teased, dancing slightly to her own song. You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose between your index finger and thumb. “How is your boyfriend, anyway? I’m assuming that’s where you were today.” You threw your bag down on one of the kitchen chairs.

“He’s not my boyfriend, cut it out,” you grumbled.

“Sure seems like it. You blush every time I say his name,” she jeered, her voice still sing-songy as she moved back into the kitchen.

The fact that Dean wasn’t your boyfriend seemed to echo through your mind until his next show, which happened to be in a much larger venue. You weren’t sure how you felt about coming to the realization that the two of you had never really set a label. Did you even want a label? The two of you hadn’t really been keeping your relationship private, but maybe it was for a bigger reason that you had given thought to. You and your little sidekick in the shape of your best friend made your way to the venue, her almost tripping over her shoes a few times with excitement. There weren’t any seats, in fact, the place reminded you of a warehouse and it made complete sense having been set up by the bassist and the drummer when Dean and the other guitar player just had to trust the guys. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that it was incredibly packed. A sense of pride rushed through you, proud of the band slowly climbing the ladder yet still keeping it fun. You also knew Dean would be feeding off this high for at least a week after the show.

Your friend dragged you to the front by the tight grip she had on your arm, landing the two of you in almost the front row. The people around you smelled like beer and were already cheering and yelling, making you laugh slightly. Anytime college kids had the opportunity to throw each other around to punk music, they would. Your friend smiled at her phone before clicking it off and shoving it in her pocket, looking over the crowd and waving her arm in the air. You furrowed your brows, attempting to see who or what she was trying to wave down. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” she commented, biting back a grin and putting her arm down. You shook your head at her and someone came around you to pull her into his arms. She giggled wildly as he kissed her. You recognized him as the drummer. The two had been very vocal about their whereabouts after she had given him her number. Dean was at your side, giving your arm a nudge and furrowing his brows at the two, probably mimicking your expression. “What are you guys doing out here?” She asked, through a bright smile. You scoffed like she didn’t just wave them down.

“Relax, no one knows it’s us,” Dean joked from beside you. “They came for the booze.” He seemed oddly calm for such a big event, but there was something off about him. The two laughed at him before joining in their own conversation. Dean leaned closer to your ear, “Can we go somewhere?” You nodded and followed him away from the crowd and towards the backstage area before turning towards a bathroom. You looked around the space, it was disgusting but you didn’t mind.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. There was definitely something wrong. Was he nervous? “Are you okay?” His usually bright face was smothered with slight worry. You could tell he wanted to reach out to you.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He bit his lip. “I don’t know, you’ve gotten weird… Did I do something?”

You scoffed, shaking your head quickly. “No, I just…” You ran a hand through your hair and he watched you closely, the same look flashing behind his eyes as when you were playing for him. “She found out about us and,” you shrugged, “it just got me thinking.”

Dean fought against his smirk as he took a step towards you. “That’s never a good thing, love,” he joked, making the tension lighten. “What were you thinking about?”

You scoffed. “It’s not really a big deal-”

His eyebrows picked up. “Quit.”

“Did I become a groupie?” You asked, a smile playing on your lips, causing him to give into his grin. You hated to do this before his show, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

“Are you also fucking the other guys?” He sarcastically quizzed, his arms finally moving to rest on your shoulders before sliding down so his hands settled on your neck, the cool metal of his rings bringing enticing goosebumps to litter your skin. You looked up at him, quietly wishing you could take him home around this time. Damn, were you really this whipped?

“I mean, the bass guy has been looking awfully yummy lately…” You mocked, your eyes dancing between his lips and his bright blue eyes. He chuckled at your answer.

“Do you wanna be just a groupie?” He asked in more of a whisper.

You were surprised as your tone matched his. “No…”

“Fine, can I be your boyfriend?” He smiled into his question and your gaze snapped to his. “I wanna be your fucking boyfriend, okay.” His tone was so light you couldn’t help but laugh.

His thumb brushed against your jaw, making you melt. “Good.” You grabbed onto the front of his jacket, finally bringing his lips to yours. You made sure this kiss counted more than all your previous ones for him. You could practically taste the relief pulsing through him as his hands moved into your hand. The noise around you died away as you stood on your toes, feet fitting between his sneakers to bring him closer to your body.

He pulled away rather reluctantly, pressing his lips against yours a few times between attempting to talk to you. “I have to quit before I get carried away,” he groaned, kissing your cheek and jaw.

You chuckled. “Promise to get carried away later then?”

“I swear on my life,” he practically growled in your ear. He was back to being Dean again. He pulled away to look you in the eye. “You are so beautiful, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him away from you. He giggled. “Alright, go get on stage, lover boy.”

He leaned forward to kiss you briefly again before beginning to back out of the bathroom. “To be clear, I’m not going because you told me to. I’m going because I have to, okay?” He joked.

“Dean.” He sent you one last wink before slipping out the door, leaving you to finally grin like an idiot in peace. You joined your friend’s side again and the look she gave you was more than all-knowing as you shook your head at her again. As the band took to the stage, the crowd roared with excitement. Dean was wrong. They had come for them. Maybe it was Dean’s accent because each time he attempted to talk or swore during a song, the girls in the crowd would scream their heads off.

There was something about Dean’s performance tonight that was different for you. Maybe it was the rise he was getting out of everyone and the fact that he was going home with you. You bobbed to the music slightly, your mind flashing to the afternoons with Dean. The grungy man before you, eyeliner smudging from the heat of the lights and exertion of adrenaline, looked different and oozed with confidence that was somehow even more attractive to you now, but when he would grin at one of his bandmates or a sign in the crowd, he was exactly the same. He had made sure to find you in the crowd rather quickly, sending you flirty smirks and a wink every so often. God, he really knew what he was doing. There were times during the set when the bassist would introduce the next song as Dean would take a sip of beer or a puff of the guitarist’s cigarette and the girls behind you would make a comment about being jealous of whatever his lips had touched, making you laugh slightly---a fact you would have told him if you hadn’t known he would bring it up every chance he got.

After the show, the two of you barely made it up the stairs to his apartment before wrapping around each other, hungry to relieve the sexual tension between you during the show. You knew Dean was still running on performer’s high, and you were thankful. Your hands knotted in his hair as the taste of alcohol and cigarettes invaded your senses to blend with the smell of the concert on you both. Your back pressed against his bedroom door as you practically yanked his jacket off his arms, tugging his shirt over his head as he smashed his lips against yours in a disarray of teeth and hair. He slipped his hands under your shirt, pulling it off as well, his lips finding his favorite part of your neck. You moaned as his teeth clashed against your skin, his hand moving to grasp at your breast as he pressed you harder against the door. You ground your hips against him, feeling the wetness between your legs begin to pool.

You pushed off the wall, dragging him with you to the bed. As you fell back into the soft comforter, Dean climbed over you smiling before you locked your lips against his, your tongue pressing into his mouth with a neediness that he seemed to reciprocate as his fingers moved to your zipper, lightly unfastening your pants before dragging them down your thighs and over your ankles. He stood between your legs, getting ready to remove his rings. “Uh-uh,” you almost hissed, making him look up at you smugly. “Leave ‘em on.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, his smirk making you melt as he hooked his arms around your thighs, his head dipping down.

“As you wish,” he divulged, his breath hot against your core before he began nipping at the skin of your inner thigh. He was in complete control as his mouth moved to press against your clothed center. You moaned slightly, a grin spreading across your face as your head tilted back, his tongue moving against you, drawing patterns as he applied pressure with it. He broke away from you sliding his hands between the fabric of your waistband and skin, your underwear soon falling to the floor. As he settled back into his previous position, you ran your fingers into his hair, pushing it off his forehead so you could fully see his eyes. He flashed you another smug look before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking slightly before slipping his middle finger into you.

“Fuck,” you hissed, your legs wanting to clamp shut around him as he began to curl his finger inside of you, moving to draw a reaction out of you with each of his actions. He flattened his tongue against your core and moved his head from side to side for more friction. You groaned again, needing more of him, which he seemed to notice as he added another digit. You could now feel the rings at the edge of your entrance, giving you a new sensation to moan over. The tension within you tightened as he continued, his tongue lapping against you, bringing you closer to the edge. “Dean, I’m close,” you almost whined, moving your hips to grind against his tongue.

He chuckled and leaned away from you, slipping his fingers into his as you leaned up to tug off his jeans. You scoffed as he connected your lips together again. “You haven’t been wearing underwear this whole time?”

He smiled into your kiss, pushing you back onto the mattress. “No one but you has to know,” he joked.

“Ew, Dean!” You giggled as he kissed your jaw and laughed at your comment. He pulled one of your legs to rest against his hip and positioned himself before you as you drug a hand through his hair. He met your gaze again and despite the fact that he still looked like his rockstar persona, the sparkle in his eye was consistent with the Dean that you would be confident in introducing to your parents one day. He reached a thumb up to brush against your cheek before kissing you softly, a sweet gesture that forced you to wrap yourself around his arms. He pressed into you, fitting against you almost too perfectly as he moaned, bringing music to your ears. He broke away from you only to settle a kiss beside your ear and against your shoulder, beginning to thrust into you. His breath fanned over your chest and you sighed in pleasure. His hand fisted the sheets beside the two of you as he ground his hips against yours. You moved beneath him wanting to find the right angle to push yourself over the edge. You tightened around him, drawing another moan out of him. If the man could be in your ear for the rest of your life, you would thank whatever higher being allowed it to happen every second you could.

He pulled your hips towards him more, driving himself deeper into you and reaching where you needed him most. “Don’t stop,” you moaned, kissing him again as he smiled. You began to feel every inch of him as he moved inside of you, hitting your sweet spot with each of his thrusts. You kissed his jaw softly, your fingers drifting to the curls at the base of his head again. Your toes curled as you finally reached your orgasm, calling out his name and feeling him release as well, riding out your pleasure. As he sank into the covers next to you, you couldn’t fight the smile playing on your lips. One of his arms jutted out to pull your back against his chest, wrapping himself around you and sighing into your hair. His lips brushed against your shoulder blade softly and you tucked into his arms more.

“Thank you for coming to my show,” he mumbled from behind you.

You smirked. “It was like pulling teeth, getting me there,” you answered sarcastically, hearing him laugh lightly.

“I meant the first time. I’m glad you didn’t end up as a groupie,” he hummed, joking rather lazily and you knew he was drifting off. You rolled your eyes with a grin, your hand moving to rest over his, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m glad, too,” you quipped, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep as well.

#dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman x reader #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman smut #dean x reader #dean charles chapman fluff #fluff #smut #imagine #1917 imagines #1917 imagine #1917 smut #one shot #au #band au #band #musician au #dixie chicks

81 notes · View notes