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wickedscribbles · 2 years

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Groove To The Beat Of My Heart

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Summary: Jack overhears something he shouldn't. Charles and Arthur scramble to cover their asses.

My first RDR2 commission and I don't think I could have had more fun with it! 💖 Thanks, friend.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Charles Smith (Third Person Omniscient -- switches between Charles and Arthur)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: modern AU, established relationship, married couple, fluff, flirting, pet names, teasing/banter, pet names, humor, healthy relationships, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, past trauma, past abuse, explicit consent, Arthur is bi, dom/sub elements, hair pulling, smut, begging, praise kink, anal fingering, anal sex, body worship, dirty talk, shower sex, blowjobs

Word Count: 8.3K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

The sight of little Jack swinging his legs in the seat of Arthur’s pickup truck always amuses the man. Wedged between Arthur and Charles with the center console pushed back, there’s no denying that the boy loves riding in the dusty old behemoth, sitting up as straight as he can in an attempt to see over the dash. Abigail would throw an absolute fit if she knew he was riding without a carseat, but you could look all over this Earth and not find two more men devoted to the boy’s care. Even now as they hit a rough bump, Charles hurries to put an arm around Jack’s skinny shoulders, making sure he doesn’t bounce too far out of his seat.

They’d been tasked with watching him for the day. John and Abigail had had their eye on a rather boozy fall festival for weeks now, and both had turned their prettiest puppy dog eyes to Charles and Arthur, asking if they could do them just the tiniest favor.

It was hard not to laugh. Arthur remembered what it’d been like to be their age, itching at the opportunity to get off work and party with the masses. Nowadays he leaves the house for such occasions maybe once or twice a year, feeling his age in the morning when the hangover hits him. Though Charles is a little younger, he’s never been a fan of such social mingling, either. It’s just in his nature to stick closer to home, and that suits them both.

So of course, they’d agreed to watch Jack. He’s a sweet, inquisitive kid at the age of four (and a half, as he likes to remind them). His favorite thing to do is to visit the animals, to be held up to the horses with their great sniffing, velvety noses. Or to toss handfuls of cracked corn to the hens, giggling as they gather at his feet before leaving again when the treats have been cleared. Sometimes if the weather’s damp, they’ll don their rubber boots and go on frog hunts, which the boy goes wild for. Nothing seems to please him more than to hold a wriggly frog up in both hands, chasing after it as it breaks free.

Charles and Arthur delight in it, too. Though they’re satisfied with their life as it is – don’t want to add children to the mix, at least not right now – these interludes with Jack are entertaining. He’s a sweet boy, rarely fussing if things don’t go his way. Curious, smart, more likely to laugh than cry. Everything you could want from a little nephew, really.

Before Jack is due to visit, a few things have to be done to prepare the house. It isn’t as if the two of them have guns and knives hanging from every surface, but Arthur’s diligent in making sure Jack can’t get into anything that might hurt him. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if Jack sustained an injury under his care, even if it was something as simple as a nick or scrape. So they move through the house like ghosts, sweeping slow over every surface, checking and double-checking.

Occasionally something is brought up, like a staple or nail from under the couch, quickly disposed of. Leftover from some home improvement project or another.

“Really oughta vacuum under this thing more often,” Arthur comments, lifting the couch with one hand.

“Easy with the gun show there. Hot damn.”

Charles’ voice comes from across the room. He’s peeking from the kitchen as Arthur’s frozen in place, couch still lifted, no effort involved as that bicep strains.

“Aw, shut up,” Arthur mumbles, but they both know he’s blushing at the unexpected compliment. He lets the couch down easy. The vacuum is located, the rest of the mess dealt with.

Their day with Jack had gone well, without incident. After many times coming to stay with Uncle Arthur and Charles, he has the routine down, knows everything fun to do there. Before bed the night before, they’d all watched It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, and today they’d picked a massive pumpkin from a local patch. Arthur carved while Jack handled the gut scooping, up to his elbows in the mess. Charles extracted the seeds for roasting, sending a bag home for John and Abigail.

“Hope they ain’t too hungover,” Arthur muses, helping Jack locate his shoes as they get ready to go. “You know how John was the last time they went to one’a these things.”

“I have a feeling they’ll keep themselves in check. Found it!” Charles answers from the other room. “One shoe.” He walks into the room, settling on the couch before Jack, and acts as if he means to put it on his own foot. “Finally.”

“Noooo, Uncle Charles!” Jack howls with laughter. “It’s not gonna fit you!”

“Oh.” Charles blinks, trying his best not to break into a grin. “Are you sure?”

This only prompts more giggles. Charles finagles the lost shoe onto Jack’s foot as Arthur leans in the doorway, watching with something that can only be described as helpless affection. Charles always says he’s the type of man who would be terrible with kids. Claims he’d be an awful father, that he needs too much alone time to ever imagine having a baby. But looking at the two of them together now, Arthur can see it plain as day – Charles having a child of his own. He’s so nurturing and kind in everything he does, with everyone he cares for.

“You coming?” comes Charles’ playful voice. “Don’t know if your truck would take kindly to me trying to drive her.”

“Yeah, I’m comin’,” Arthur answers, blinking back into himself. “Sorry.”

“Go on, Jack, we’re right behind you.”

Charles opens the door for their little charge, and together they watch as the boy runs outside, kicking at the falling leaves. For a moment they linger there, taking a moment of quiet. It’s nice to have Jack around, but it’s strange to have a small person interrupting their usual energy, too. Charles laces his fingers in with Arthur’s, leaning in close to place his lips to the other man’s. Something gentle and soft, a kiss that a child wouldn’t feel scandalized to see.

“C’mon, babygirl,” he purrs, teasing. “I ain’t touchin’ that truck’s gear shift. You know she hates me.”

“She don’t hate you,” Arthur says with a grin, affection stirring strong in his chest. “Maybe you just don’t know how to please ‘er.”

Charles only waves a hand in response, already out the door to tend to Jack. Arthur shakes his head, looking forward to what the two of them can do together when they drop the boy back off with his parents.

—--------

John and Abigail are sitting out on the porch when the truck pulls up on the dirt path. Abigail, Arthur notes with amusement, is nursing a glass of water, and John’s sporting some serious eye bags. Though they move to stand as soon as the truck hits gravel, he has a feeling they did some heavy drinking the night before. Their big yellow Lab, Rufus, comes jogging up to the truck with his tail wagging.

“There he is!” John exclaims, tossing his son up once Jack’s out of the cab. “Hey lil’ man!”

“Hi, daddy!”

“The heroes of the hour,” Abigail greets them, watching Jack sink his fingers into Rufus’ thick ruff of fur. “Thanks for doin’ this again, guys. We needed to get out.”

“Now it looks like y’all need help gettin’ sober,” Arthur says, making sure her son isn’t listening. She only rolls her eyes, grinning nonetheless. Charles catches it too, shooting his husband a mischievous look. He knows that Arthur loves ribbing John in particular about this sort of thing, but that Abigail is like a sister too, and thus not immune to teasing.

“Oh, hush. You know Jack’s a good kid, but you don’t have him all the time. A girl can miss gettin’ a little crazy,” says Abigail with a smirk. “Not too crazy, though. God, I’m gettin’ old.” She sighs, taking a sip of her water. “Did he have a good time?”

“Reckon he did,” Arthur replies, watching as Charles kneels down in the driveway to receive sloppy Rufus kisses. “Went down to that pumpkin patch a few miles down the road. Oh – Charles roasted some of the seeds for ya. Got ‘em in the truck.”

“Aw, jeez, Arthur,” Abigail pretends to complain. “Makin’ us look like bad parents, takin’ him to the pumpkin patch first.” She hits him playfully on the shoulder. “That reminds me. We got y’all some of that good apple cider whiskey as a thank you – let me grab it.”

Arthur turns to watch Jack trailing a stick through the dirt for Rufus, who’s bent low to the ground, watching it with his tail wagging in excitement.

“Now – get it!” he exclaims, throwing the stick with all the force he can manage.

The dog takes off like a shot. His body is still lanky with the looks of a puppy, too much leg and not enough body, eager to find out where the fun new toy had gone. John watches the two with quiet amusement, leaning with his arms crossed against the side of Arthur’s ancient pickup.

“Trust you didn’t get too shit-faced, Marston?” Arthur asks.

“What, me?” John scoffs. “Nah. Had to hold up Abigail half the time. She had too much tequila and started cryin’ cause she was sad about winter.” He rolls his eyes as Charles lets out a deep laugh. “All the way through the first band.” John pitches his voice higher in a fair imitation of Abigail. “The leaves are fallin’ off, John! It’s only a matter of time! Jack’s gettin’ older and he’s gonna be grown!”

“Aww, don’t give ‘er a hard time about that,” Arthur protests. “He’s your only boy.”

“Yeah,” John relents, scuffing his boot in the dirt. “I know it.”

From the porch Abigail herself appears, looking frustrated. “Can someone come in and lend a hand? John felt the need to put this stuff on the highest shelf and he knows I’m short –”

“Comin’, I’m comin’,” John says, wearing a faint grin. “Hold onto your britches, little miss.”

John straightens up, prompting the pickup to let out a groan. With a quick look to check that Jack’s still tussling with Rufus, he nods at Charles and Arthur to say he’ll only be a minute. Jack comes skidding over to where the two men stand, red-faced, scraps of leaves and debris in his hair and clothes from where he’d joined his dog on the ground. Rufus is, of course, at his heels, panting happily.

“Look at you,” Charles remarks, leaning down to brush off Jack’s shirt. “Your mama’s gonna have a field day.”

“What’s that mean?” Jack asks, his face innocent.

“Oh, well, it just means that when she sees that your clothes are dirty she’s going to go through a lot of steps to wash them and get you clean,” he answers carefully. Not wanting to imply that his playtime would make Abigail upset – though she’d probably be at least somewhat annoyed. “Does that make sense?”

“I guess so.” Jack wrinkles his nose. “I have another question.”

“Okay, kid, shoot.”

Charles gives Arthur an amused glance. The two of them are more than used to the endless questions of a four-year-old. Why do the pumpkins grow in fall? Why is Rufus yellow? Why do the chickens love corn so much? Things that they’d never really thought about until the question had been raised by the ruthlessly curious kid. Each man does their best to answer in a way that makes sense.

He looks Arthur right in the eye. “Why did Uncle Charles call you babygirl? What is a babygirl?”

Oh, shit.

The two men look at each other again, this time to communicate panic. There are certain glances that lovers share – especially those that have known each other for years. Fond looks, amused looks, longing looks. It almost feels like reading minds, and now in Charles’ eyes, Arthur can clearly see a string of expletives as he struggles to figure out what to say to the kid.

What comes out of both of their mouths, at the same time, is a very eloquent “uhhhhh….”

And at that moment, John and Abigail reappear, toting the whiskey.

“Well, that was a pain,” she mutters. “Here you go, fellas. As promised.”

Still fighting back internal panic, Arthur accepts the bottle with a smile, knowing that Charles is playing this far cooler than he is without even having to look. Knowing what he knows about Jack, the boy will do one of two things. Either press the question further now that his parents are here to provide more potential answers. Or get distracted and move on to something else. Arthur hopes and prays that the latter option happens, because he doesn’t have a damn clue how he’s going to explain their little faux pas to the Marstons when the question’s been sprung so quickly.

By some miracle, Jack fixates on the whiskey being handed over instead. “What’s that, mama?”

“It’s a grown-up drink, honey.”

“Can I try some?”

“Definitely not.”

“Aww…”

Charles and Arthur say their goodbyes, each choosing a side of the truck and slamming its rusted doors back into place. They wave to the Marstons as Arthur turns the key in the ignition, and the old thing roars into life, spewing a quick cloud from the exhaust before they’re moving. There’s a moment of awkward silence as the ranch home shrinks in the distance.

“So –” Arthur starts, clearing his throat.

“Yeah,” Charles answers.

“That was awful.”

“Not great,” he admits. “That was my bad, I shouldn’t have said that; not with the door open. I never meant for him to hear it.”

“‘Course not,” Arthur mumbles, keeping his eyes on the road. “S’fine.”

Hesitation from Charles’ side of the cab. Dread bubbles up in Arthur’s stomach at the thought of this turning into a disagreement; he hates fighting with Charles. Because Arthur’s the sensitive one, the one that always seems to fly off the handle, to get upset or cry. Charles is the one who keeps his cool. While most of the time, Arthur would consider that a good thing, right now he can’t help but be a little jealous. (Can’t he be irrational for once? Why does Arthur have to be the one with his heart on his sleeve all the time?)

Already he’s struggling not to let his thoughts wander a more negative path. God, he used to have such a trigger temper. It’d taken years of self-discipline to remedy, but sometimes, he can still feel it trying to take over. The familiar scenery passes by as he keeps his trap shut, wondering what sort of soothing talk is going to come pouring out of his husband’s mouth to remedy the situation.

“It doesn’t sound fine,” Charles points out. “What’s bothering you?”

Ugh. Arthur scrubs a hand down his cheek, chasing an itch that only exists in his head.

“Jus’ –” he sighs. “Kid shouldn’t’a heard it. And there’s no tellin’ whether he’s gonna go off repeatin’ it. You know that.”

“I know,” Charles says at once. “I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t mad at you.” says Arthur, his voice quiet.

He can tell that Charles is thinking about the implications about that comment, what he means by it. As they’re pulling into their own drive, scattering wayward chickens, Arthur puts the truck in park. Something tells him that Charles won’t want to leave the truck until he figures out what the issue is. So he waits, unbuckling the seatbelt and leaning back with a sigh. Turning his head, he sees his partner chewing on his lip, a sure sign of deep thought.

“Embarrassed, then?” Charles offers after a moment.

Arthur nods. “Guess you could say that. Usually we’re so careful with that stuff.”

“Can’t be perfect all the time.”

“Yeah.”

Arthur knows that he should leave it here, end it and go inside. He shouldn’t be hung up on something so stupid. But being himself, he has a propensity to get caught up on little things that others wouldn’t. To fixate and pick away and notice, long after the matter has come to pass. It’s one of the things he loathes about his own personality, the hidden anxiety that always hides so close to the surface. Lurking.

“It’s just –” Arthur blurts, and already his voice has changed, more vulnerable, cracking. That, too, annoys him, upsets him. “God knows I heard and saw all sorts of things I didn’t need to when I was a kid. Awful things.”

His heart beats faster. There are a myriad of examples dancing behind his open eyes. The way his father had screamed at and abused his mother. His drunken outbursts that seemed to come from nowhere. Arthur never knew when he was safe. How over time, his Pa turned that condescension and hate onto Arthur himself. Insisting that the older he got, the more he’d be able to bear it. Even now, fast approaching his forties, he can see his father glaring down at him from some long-faded memory.

He never wants Jack to have to go through something like that. And somewhere in the middle he’s gotten his wires crossed, because he knows Jack’s about the most loved little boy he could ever find. He was there when that kid was born, and he cried when Abigail handed that baby over. The most tiny, wrinkled thing with a tuft of dark hair. Jack already looked like his parents, seconds out into the world, and that’s what pulled at Arthur’s heart the most. That even as a newborn he could bear such a strong resemblance to those what made him.

Having such a strong reaction is irrational. Hell, what Jack had overheard was funny, for God’s sake. They both know it. But as his therapist had once told him a few years back, people can’t help what makes them remember, and now he finds himself gulping back tears.

At once Charles is leaning forward, stretching the seatbelt to its limits.

“Hey,” he says firmly. “Arthur –”

He places a hand to Arthur’s face, trying to get the other man to look at him. Stubborn, Arthur holds steady, his eyes focused on the coating of dust and bits of gravel stuck to his floorboards. Really ought to get in here and clean this out sometime, he thinks, trying to think of anything but the tender way Charles is touching him. Trying to tell him that everything’s fine, because Jesus, shouldn’t Arthur know that already? Shouldn’t he be past welling up at stupid shit for no reason, at his age?

“Can you look at me?” Charles coaxes.

Swallowing hard, Arthur does, his eyes brimming with unnecessary moisture. Eye contact has never come easy, growing up as an anxious kid – especially in an abusive home. He never knew whether eye contact was the wrong thing to do. But Charles makes it feel so safe.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur nods, remembering to look at Charles. “Yeah, I just – had a minute there. You know.”

“I know.”

“Sorry.”

“No apology needed,” Charles says. “Promise.”

It’s funny how all the parts of himself that Arthur used to feel embarrassed about – the parts that his own mind often insisted were weaker or dumber – are assuaged with only a few words from the man he’s made his life partner. He feels himself smile, can’t help it, and Charles ducks forward to brush his lips across Arthur’s forehead. A reassurance.

“I’ll be a lot more diligent the next time we have him,” Charles adds confidently. “Swear. Hell, if you want I’ll call you Mr. Morgan so there’s no chance of us being anything less than downright formal.”

Arthur lets out an abrupt laugh. “Think that might get us into an entirely different kinda trouble.”

Charles smirks. “Think you might be right.” He unbuckles too, scooting closer over the space separating them until his knee bumps his husband’s. “Though it’s been a while since you wanted me to call you sir.”

“It has,” Arthur relents, his breath catching as Charles’ big, broad hand slips over his covered thigh.

“Hmm…one might think you don’t like being in control at all.”

All at once Charles is rising over him, pressing him back against the driver’s seat window. It’s not exactly comfortable, but then again, Arthur doesn’t exactly care. Something about having an ever-vigilant four-year-old in their house for the past two days has gotten both of them wound up now that their nephew’s gone. Now that they’re free to do as they please, reminded of the flexibility of a child-free life. Arthur lets himself be held down, heart thumping away like a teenager’s, as Charles does his best to climb on top of him in the crowded space.

Then his knee hits the horn, ringing out in the open country space. The chickens protest, and both men freeze in place. Arthur peers up at him with a slow grin, watching as Charles gives him a sheepish look.

“Okay then,” says Charles, laughing a little. “Not here.”

“Reckon we can make it in the door.”

Arthur's glad that they're home. There, the embarrassment of the little slip up with Jack seems to fade – though it'd occurred right there in their living room. He's grounded again by the familiar sight of their jackets hanging on the coat rack, the coffee mugs on the shelf. Every little rustic touch that makes the combined space theirs. Books and art and the smell of hardwood.

He toes off his boots by the door, and hangs his jacket. Charles does the same, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Looks like it's just you and me," he says softly. "What do you feel like?"

Charles is goddamn considerate like that. Because they both know as much as Arthur loves to be taken charge of, made to make his mind go blank, to forget, Charles would also never jump into anything without his husband's consent. Everything they do is carefully planned and agreed to.

Arthur knows he could say any number of things right now and get that wish granted. Charles’ hands are calloused and clever, rough from years of hard work, almost as experienced as Arthur’s own. They’ve known bitter winters and sweltering summers, endured fencework and broken horses. Most of all they’ve been gentle, running their way over Arthur’s body like a spring rain. Washing away insecurities and doubts, fears and sorrows. Leaving him as he was meant to be, fresh and whole in the afterglow.

So Arthur can’t help but lick his lips, anticipating, as those hands come up to brush against his waist. Toying with his shirt, tucked into jeans, threatening to pull it loose. Running lines up and down his body from thigh to chest, his brown eyes dark and open, waiting as long as he needs to for Arthur’s answer.

How a younger version of himself would've gone wild for this sort of treatment. There are many differences between the Arthur of the past and the man he is now, but he often amuses himself thinking about that particular lack of control. Charles hasn’t even kissed him yet – doesn’t have to, to get him wound up – and he’s growing hard. Twenties Arthur would be begging for it, eager both to please and to receive at the slightest sign of affection.

Didn’t even know I liked men back then, he thinks wryly. He is, of course, more than aware of it now.

“Anything,” Arthur says in answer to Charles’ question, and that’s all the incentive Charles needs to turn the fire a little hotter.

He knows all his husband’s little quirks and cues. Arthur’s gorgeous sea-blue eyes get shy in a moment like this, flitting to his face and then away as his face goes pink. It drives Charles crazy. To have known and befriended and fallen in love with and married this man, only to still have Arthur give him such a look of bashfulness? It does far more to him than he thinks Arthur knows, gets him stiff in the confines of his own jeans.

Of course, he’d much prefer Arthur to look at him – when they’re making love, when they’re talking, over dinner. Any time. Because that first glimpse he’d gotten of the man was incomparable next to the way his heart seemed to stammer and freeze when he got a good look at his face, at his eyes. Charles tries to tell him how beautiful they are, how beautiful he is, but Arthur doesn’t want to hear it. The man can’t take a compliment.

So Charles most often settles for quiet admiration.

“Oh, you’re letting me pick?” he says, low and playful. “Decisions, decisions…” Charles lets his hand trail down to the shape of Arthur’s bulge, giving it a hard squeeze. Arthur sucks in a quiet breath, fingers flexing at his sides. “You know how I like to see you, babe. Isn’t that right?”

Though Arthur stands a few inches taller than Charles, he feels as if the other man stands above him now, and he realizes he’s leaning back out of habit. Already longing to collapse on the nearest soft surface and give himself over. Charles wants Arthur just as Arthur himself wants to be had – on his back, gazing up, open, submitting.

“Yessir,” Arthur mumbles, his voice painted in colors of want and lust.

With the lightest growl, Charles closes the gap between their hips and kisses him. The effect is instantaneous, a lit match to tinder, and Arthur lets himself go up. He’s weak for this man, this clever, younger man with the silver tongue and the watchful eyes who’s taught him about half a dozen new things about sex and living. Arthur surrenders to the kiss, letting his hands wander up and down Charles’ shirt, eventually stopping to ravel in his hair.

In answer, Charles’ mouth opens against his. He’d never tell anyone – hasn’t even verbally told Arthur – but having his hair played with is heaven. The minute that Arthur winds his fingers into the long, silken strands, he’s guaranteed to melt. Even better if he pulls. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get his attention. Needless to say, Arthur has every scrap of Charles’ attention now, and won’t lose it for hours to come.

Arthur responds beautifully to having his mouth explored. Hesitant at first, then growing more confident, letting his tongue tangle with the other man’s. Charles can’t help the sound he makes as Arthur threads his fingers in tighter, grasping more of his hair, bucking his hips into the welcome bulge of his cock. He nips at Arthur’s full bottom lip, tugging. Arthur all but shudders against him, letting him do as he pleases.

“Bedroom,” Charles murmurs, and he gets no argument.

They arrive in various states of disarray. Shirts untucked, hair mussed, eyes shining with that thought of what they’re about to do. Right away, Arthur’s fingers go to the buttons of his own shirt, eager to be free of it, but Charles moves to block him. With a smirk, he replaces his husband’s hands with his own, delighting in the look of combined irritation and arousal that comes over Arthur’s face. Because he knows that Charles will be slower. And inevitably, more careful.

Looking up into his husband’s warm blue eyes, Charles undoes the first button, exposing a few inches of that broad chest. Frowning a little, Arthur places his palm on Charles’ bulge, pushing it in and up through his jeans, making his impatience known. Charles huffs out a laugh, undoing the next button, and the next. When it’s hanging loose on his shoulders, Arthur shrugs the shirt to the ground, pressing in to rut his very obvious cock against Charles, enticing him to hurry up and get undressed faster.

“Alright, alright,” says Charles. “Have it your way.”

“Want you to touch me,” Arthur replies in a low voice, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his husband's jeans. “Please.”

“So needy.”

Charles kicks off his pants, amused to see that Arthur’s already beaten him to it, naked. Clothes lie all around him, scattered in his haste. That’s nowhere as interesting as Arthur himself, standing tall and bare in the midst of it like a tree in a hurricane. His body is incredible, a monument to decades of physical labor. Brawny and thick, and not overly toned, Charles knows that he’s insecure about his body type – though Charles has never seen a more attractive man with his own two eyes.

Removing his own shirt and underwear, Charles is finally just as bare as Arthur is, and he doesn’t hesitate to brush their cocks together. The motion draws a little whine of need from his lover’s throat, something deep and primal. Charles can feel his own impatience threatening to flare to the surface. Something that demands he take Arthur and now, toss him to the mattress and pin him down, spread his legs and work his way into his tight body.

He reminds himself that they have time. With no little ones underfoot, they have all the time they need. Taking Arthur’s hand, he leads him to the edge of the bed, and Arthur sits without prompting.

“Good boy,” he says quietly, running his thumb over Arthur’s bottom lip.

Arthur goes pink at the simple compliment, opening his mouth. Between his legs he’s already leaking at the tip, no doubt aching just as Charles is.

Not yet, Charles reminds himself. Rushing in too soon would ruin all the fun of seeing the look on Arthur’s face as he builds anticipation, teases him further. Like doing this, for instance – sliding the tip of his thumb into Arthur’s mouth, enough to feel his warm breath, satisfied when his lips grab it to suck. Just the lightest pressure, an indication of what else he could be doing with his mouth right now. But God, does it set something in his chest tight.

“Look at you,” Charles breathes, moving to straddle Arthur’s waist. “So fuckin’ gorgeous for me, aren’t you, baby?”

Arthur’s hands come up to grasp at Charles’ back, needing the contact, needing more. He whines out what could be an affirmative or a protest, letting himself be lowered flat on his back. Ever since they walked in the door all he’s been able to think about is being stretched open on loving, patient fingers. Finally being filled after two long days. Fucked the way he knows Charles will fuck him, long and good and slow.

“I’ll give it to you,” he says now, reading the look on Arthur’s face as easily as if he’d spoken aloud. “But looks like we forgot something, didn’t we?”

“Fuckin’ lube,” Arthur grumbles, both of them casting their eyes to the drawer of the nightstand.

“Mmmhm.”

Scrambling off of him, Charles goes to the drawer and retrieves what they need, watching as Arthur scoots back and gets himself more comfortable in the center of the bed. Stroking himself idly, Charles takes a moment to just look at the man before him, laid out on their blankets and pillows. Knowing how lucky he is to call Arthur his partner, his only, his best friend in all things.

“See somethin’ you like?” Arthur teases, one hand propped behind his head.

The other trails almost casually over his thigh, his cock, his abdomen. He’s really testing Charles with this little show of playfulness, and Charles licks his lips, tossing the bottle of lube on the bed. He sinks a knee onto the mattress, joining him again.

“That’s not a strong enough word for how I feel about it,” says Charles, spreading his husband’s legs further.

Arthur gasps at the sudden motion, letting his thighs part easily. A part of Charles wants to take that long, thick cock in hand and stroke him hard, to leave Arthur right on the edge until he’s begging, looking up at him with his brows scrunched together and his mouth all twisted in a pout –

But he doesn’t. Instead he exhales, uncapping the lube and drizzling some onto his fingers. Taking the time to warm it on his breath, Charles reaches down to Arthur’s tight hole, smirking as Arthur bucks up into the touch.

“Easy, cowboy. You know I’m not rushin’ this. Remember last time we thought we could?”

“My ass sure does.”

Chuckling at that, Charles massages circles against that ring of muscle, content to watch his lover’s face as they both ease into the familiar act. Charles feels relaxed here, between the brackets of Arthur’s legs, letting him get used to the feeling of his fingertip inside him. Nice and easy does it.

That one frantic night hadn’t been good for either of them, early on in their relationship. They'd been so sure they could rush right into the dick portion of anal sex. It’d left Arthur hurting and Charles wracked with guilt. It serves as a firm reminder to Charles, every time they make love. No matter how anxious they both are to get to the last leg of the race, they can’t skip this.

So he keeps going at the same pace, sliding that finger inside Arthur, watching and listening to his every reaction to make sure nothing hurts. He’s glad when the sounds his husband makes are only the softest cries of enjoyment, his toes curling at Charles’ sides. Shifting and squirming with impatience as he’s opened up and prepared. Before long, he’ll be begging for more, restless for the sensation of being filled.

More lube, more fingers. Arthur’s having trouble focusing on Charles’ face now, or keeping his eyes open at all. Charles is familiar with the sensation. It’s incredibly distracting to have something thrust in and out of you, brushing up against that small gland capable of delivering a world of bliss. He does his best not to be too agonizing in his slowness, reading Arthur’s steadily increasing volume loud and clear.

“Fuuck,” he gasps as Charles adds a third, scissoring them in his considerably looser body. “C’mon, sweetheart, what’re you waitin’ for?”

“For you to beg for me,” he purrs, sliding those fingers out careful and slow.

“Asshole,” Arthur says, but there’s no menace to it.

“You are correct. That’s where I’ll be putting my dick.”

“Oh my God.”

They both crack up, despite the heat of the moment, losing it at Charles’ deadpan joke. (Charles can and will laugh at his own jokes, despite denying the fact over and over.) And then Charles is rising over him, the smirk still apparent on his face, hands gripping Arthur’s broad thighs, cockhead nudging his wet hole.

Arthur’s grin melts into a soft look of need, his hips longing to arch up, to get more, but Charles holds him steady. He knows he’s not allowed to take more than what he’s given in this first, delicious stretch. So he swallows the whine in his throat and keeps still, breathing hard, watching. Loose strands of hair hang over his lover’s face as he braces himself against Arthur’s body, mouth set in determination, and he begins pushing in.

The effect is instantaneous. Arthur’s body is greedy for it after all that preparation, the first inch of Charles’ cock sliding in, and each of them make a noise of enjoyment. All the work they’ve done to get here is about to pay off. Even Charles has to bite his lip and force himself to go slow, so slow as he eases the rest of himself in. All the while he checks in with Arthur, getting met with huffs of restlessness and sighs of bliss in equal measure.

At last he finds himself seated fully inside the other man’s incredible warmth, stopping for a moment as they both adjust to the sensation. Charles thinks of himself as an even-tempered man, and in almost every scenario, that description holds truth. He’s not the kind to lose composure when he’s cut off in traffic. He doesn’t get overwhelmed in crowded grocery stores. Anything that most other folk would get bothered by doesn’t seem to get to him – to Arthur’s chagrin.

But watching his husband’s face change as he takes every inch of his shaft? That could easily break him if he isn’t careful. If there weren’t a risk of hurting Arthur, there would be nothing stopping him from snapping his hips forward into his waiting body, chasing that pleasure for everything he’s worth. God, sometimes going slow is so damn hard.

Charles takes a breath, steadying himself, and pulls back just the tiniest amount before thrusting in again. The barest motion, working Arthur open deeper. Pleasure already soars through him to be squeezed so tightly by Arthur’s body, to see Arthur gazing up at him like that. His face is so open and trusting and earnest. Like he knows that Charles will give him everything he wants, everything he needs. And God help him, Charles is going to try.

He strokes his hands up and down Arthur’s thighs, gentle contact, feeling as well as seeing the goosebumps spring to life under his touch. When he’s certain he isn’t going to hurt Arthur, he starts his pace; in and out, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. The little sound the man beneath him makes is something akin to relief, edged with need. Yet the rhythm Charles sets can hardly be called fucking at all, more of a soft rocking – and Arthur’s face pulls into a pout.

“You ain’t even tryin’,” he complains. “C’mon, Charles, fuck me.”

“Hmm…” He looks down, still running his hands over Arthur’s skin, as if he’s considering. “Should I? Should I go faster?”

Without waiting for an answer, he smoothly ruts in deeper, delighting in the look of surprise and ecstasy that sparks in his lover’s eyes. Arthur spreads his legs wider, fighting to hook his legs around Charles’ waist, to get closer.

“Yeah, jus’ like that,” Arthur whines. “God, Charles –”

All Charles gives in response is a low hum, caught up in the intimacy of the moment. Something about seeing their bodies joined together is so satisfying, every bit as erotic as the sensation of what they’re doing. Every once in a while the realization comes back to him; he’s actually inside Arthur, letting his cock slide in and out of his opening. And Arthur lies below him, hands reaching up to anchor him at the hips, ensuring that he’s not going to leave.

With a grunt of effort, Charles reaches under Arthur’s thighs and hitches each to his waist, forcing a cry out of him as Charles works his way in even further. Now he’s having a very difficult time keeping the pace anywhere near slow and steady, reaching down to take Arthur’s neglected cock in hand.

“Yes, sweetheart, please, yes, fuck –” Arthur babbles below him, arching up into the contact before Charles even has the chance to start stroking.

“Needy today, huh?” Charles says, smiling, keeping his grip somewhat loose. No use in Arthur coming too soon. “Look at you, trembling all over. We’ve barely started. Did you get that worked up, missing me inside you with two days not havin’ it?”

“What do you think?” Arthur pauses to huff, his fingers digging into Charles’ skin. “Kept thinkin’ we could do it real quiet maybe and he’d never know –”

Charles breaks into a smirk. “Oh, you devil, Arthur Morgan.”

His grip on Arthur’s cock slackens, and Charles ignores the little whimper of need. Instead he devotes his attention to leaning forward, pinning Arthur to the mattress, drinking in the accompanying gasp. Driving into him harder, faster, finally giving him the urgency he’s been craving. And Jesus, how Charles has craved it too, to see the sweat bead on his skin, to see his mouth fall open in bliss, everything in Arthur going lax with the pure thrill of being fucked.

Desperate pleasure claws at his own stomach, building at the base of his cock. The threat of coming is getting harder to ignore now, but Charles tries. He doesn’t want things to end so quickly – even if they’re both up for another round, he’s not a teenager anymore. They’ll have to wait a spell before getting back to it, and he doesn’t want the whole affair to be over in a blink.

“You look so goddamn good,” he breathes, his voice low and strained. “So pretty for me.”

“M’not,” Arthur protests, darkening further with a blush.

There’s the chip in the armor, his Achilles heel. Because although Arthur is one of the strongest men Charles has ever known and will likely ever know, he’s found a weakness in these tender moments, one that sends fire through them both. Arthur won’t budge at being called handsome or good-looking, fit or even hot. He’ll only roll his eyes, brushing past the endearments.

But if Charles calls him pretty. Oh, that gets to him. In mere moments he’s flustered by the word – flustered, not angered or riled up. The first time Charles had said it, in a playful tone, he’d been completely taken aback by the reaction. They both quickly discovered how much they enjoyed the results.

And Arthur is pretty, for God’s sake. There’s something beautiful in his eyes and their long lashes, in the plush set of his mouth. That fact doesn’t negate his masculine traits. The two aspects of him coexist, making up one very good-looking man. He’s confused many a straight feller in the local bars, walking past in a pair of tight jeans. Charles has caught the lingering glances before their eyes darted away, their cheeks burning. Arthur could have that effect on people. If Charles were a man prone to jealousy, it might be an issue. Luckily for them both, he isn’t.

Arthur’s eyes are glazed over with lust as he watches Charles above him, and he feels like he’s glowing from the inside out. He’s not as close to coming as he could be – though he knows Charles is barely holding on. He can see it in the tense set of his jaw, hear it in the rough stammer of his breath.

All he wants – all he could ever want – is to please him. Charles is always going above and beyond for him, whether it’s here in the bedroom or in their everyday lives. It only makes his fool heart love the man even harder. Because even if Charles takes a minute to warm up to you, once he loves you, there’s nothing else for it. You’ve got him for life. Gazing up at him as he holds back from coming, to prolong Arthur’s pleasure just that little bit more… That’s so fucking Charles.

So Arthur nudges him along, in his own subtle way.

“Please don’t stop,” he moans out, pitching his voice higher. “Charles you always fuck me so damn good, you’re so fuckin’ good, please –”

The effect it has is catastrophic on his husband’s self-control.

“Arthur, I can’t –” His eyes slip closed, brows knitting together tight. “Godfuckshit I’m right there –”

He can hardly stand how cute Charles gets when he’s about to come. Excited and frustrated all at once, because he always wants Arthur to get there first. Each of them born and bred gentlemen, despite their difficult childhoods, but Charles is keen to spoil and outdo Arthur at every turn. Often they butt heads about who’s supposed to be taking care of who at any given time. You’re not likely to find a more stubborn pair – or a more devoted one.

Sometimes their love feels like an arm wrestling match, with neither willing to give in. Other times it feels like letting go, falling asleep, something as warm and gentle as sunlight. Neither would ever change what they have with the other. Even as Charles realizes now what Arthur’s doing beneath him, that soft grin on his mouth, encouraging him to give in and succumb to the all-encompassing pleasure building at the base of his cock.

Only seconds later, Charles is giving in with a long, low groan, stilling his hips deep in Arthur’s waiting body.

They only stare at one another for a long, long second, Charles panting, Arthur grinning.

“You oughta know,” says Charles, “that you’re gonna pay for that.”

“I was hopin’ for it.”

Carefully, Charles slides out of Arthur, noting every small twitch of his face. Checking for discomfort, keeping one hand on his thigh to brace himself. They’ll leave a mess on the sheets, but that can be dealt with. For now, all Charles wants to do is get this stubborn man up and into the shower, where the warm water can rinse them clean. Where he can keep his promises.

They’ve done this enough that Arthur knows right where Charles wants to take him, and he eases up off the mattress with a light grunt.

“You alright?” Charles puts a hand on his arm, knowing the man’s knees will be weak after taking him.

“Mm, yeah.” Arthur flashes him a bashful smile. “Thanks.”

“You know I got you.”

Arthur leans in and places a kiss to Charles’ cheek, still achingly hard, looking forward to what awaits them in the shower. In no time at all they’ve migrated, leaving the bedroom looking like a tornado’s passed through. The bathroom is in much better shape, though there’s no telling how it'll look in a few minutes’ time with them together in it. Arthur reaches down to start the water, and Charles slips behind the curtain, not the type to wait until the temperature’s right.

Grinning a little, Arthur keeps his hand beneath the stream, only placing a foot on the ceramic surface when it’s warm enough. Call him what you will, but he’d rather do a number of things than step into cold water of his own volition. Strands of hair are already sticking to Charles’ face and shoulders by the time Arthur makes it inside, his eager cock brushing bumping his lover’s belly.

Without saying a word, Charles meets Arthur’s glance and folds gracefully to his knees. He places the tip of Arthur’s cock in his mouth, an instantaneous, overwhelming heat. Arthur places a flat palm on the wall of the shower, moaning out a curse. There’s no delicate working up to this – and Arthur isn’t sure that’s what he wants. Not when he’s already been fucked open so thoroughly, Charles’ come dribbling down his thighs.

Charles braces both hands on Arthur’s hips, gripping tight. Arthur groans aloud at that firm contact, at his hot breath, knowing he’s about to get the cocksucking of his life. His deep brown eyes stare up, smirking, as he laps up more of Arthur’s shaft, groaning out a soft sound as he goes. Arthur lets his fingers gravitate to the wet strands of his hair, tugging, driving a more enthusiastic response from Charles in turn.

He feels Charles’ mouth tighten around him, the flat of his tongue pressed to the glans of his cock, and hisses out a sound of helpless need. All around them the water pours, a little hotter than Arthur really wants it, but he can’t bring himself to care. His vision is tunneled to Charles at his feet, one of his strong hands coming up to work him at the base, all of it sending so much so much pleasure coursing through his belly.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly he spills into Charles mouth, gasping and moaning his name into the echoing close space of the shower. And all the while Charles looks up at him, grinning, taking every goddamn bit of it. They’re in the shower, he could open his mouth and let it spill out, but – he makes a point to stay suckling Arthur’s cock. And something about that sends a deeper wrack of bliss through Arthur’s body, that point proven. I want to swallow and I’m going to.

He’s never been more attracted to anyone else in his life. Good thing, too. He married him.

“Jesus, darlin’, that was –” Arthur pauses for breath, for words. “You are – incredible.”

Charles wipes his mouth, giving Arthur a slow smile. “Well, thank you…babygirl.”

Arthur’s expression quickly arranges itself into one of solemnness. “I’m gonna end you right here.”

“After I just sucked your dick? Rude.”

—----------------

Hours later, as they’re lying together on the couch, Arthur’s phone vibrates with a series of texts. One after the other after the other – and that could only mean John. Fishing his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants, Arthur takes a moment to read from the beginning.

Thought I had to take Abigail to the hospital she was laughing so hard

John: Alright which one of you said it

Which one of you

Babygirl? Really? Y’all call each other that? Nastyyyyyy 💀💀💀

Y’all trying to kill my wife with your babygirl nonsense

Arthur rolls his eyes, nudging Charles to show him the exchange. Meanwhile, the messages keep rolling in.

John: Jack called Rufus babygirl

He called ME babygirl

I’m not mentally prepared for this

“To be honest… that’s probably the safest thing he could’ve overheard,” Charles muses.

“Mm…yeah. Probably right.”

Arthur chuckles down at his phone as John’s complaints keep coming. Well, that’s a mistake they’ll not soon make again. At least they’d manage to annoy John and amuse Abigail with the slip-up. Many years down the line, when either uncle asks Jack if he remembers the incident, he’ll respond with absolute confusion – and thank goodness. In the end it becomes just another memorable incident in his childhood.

And Charles and Arthur go on living, go on loving, as they always have.

#groove to the beat of my heart ao3 #wickedscribbles #red dead redemption 2 #charthur #charles smith x arthur morgan #arthur morgan x charles smith #charthur fluff #charthur smut #arthur morgan fic #charles smith fic #rdr2 fic #rdr2 smut

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tera-91 · 10 days

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Mid-April thoughts

I didn’t mean to take a pause in posting. My thoughts have been a jumble lately.

My pup will need to have surgery so ive been working extra hours so that I can work less during the healing process. It sucks but I would rather go through with it now than the little cuddle bug be in discomfort. Poor thing has had some rough luck in the knee genetics department.

I have also been contemplating a job change but I would have to go to school for it. So Ive been dealing with checking out everything that I need to do for that. I think if I can be patient, which for me is kind of difficult, it would be a really good thing cuz I could potentially basically make in a day what I currently do in a week. It would definitely make things easier for me. But I wont be able to complete it for a few years. So I don’t know exactly what to do with my time between now and when I would be able to start taking courses.

Another jumbled thought I have is should I take advantage of the down time to try to pursue some side quests to make a little extra here and there to build it up so that I can quit my job while I go through school. I will have to be a three quarter to full time student while doing it so working and school might be a little bit of a juggling act. Also as bad as it might sound, I would rather do side quests than my actual job. I know that for most jobs dealing with people can be completely unavoided and there are jobs where it can be which would be a plus but I just get drained both mentally and physically dealing with people.

Other things have been good though.

I think I have figured out a way around some issues I was having with my videos. I just need to be able to spend some time to edit those so that I can post them. I have a pretty decent bank of them so I can spend time with my fluff ball to make sure healing goes well.

Writing I think is going good but also having a bit of a block. While I know I said I was probably going to take a break on sanders side stories, I somehow have 3 I’ve been working on. Maybe because I feel like I resonate with Virgil so its easier to write something with him verses starting something else. I can get anywhere from 300-500 words before my brain just halts and I cant figure out where to take it. I have an idea of the beginning but the further into it the murkier it gets and I don’t know where I want to take it. Part of me wants to go a fluff route but also writing is a bit of an emotional outlet for me. So part of me wants to just follow whatever emotion I have going at the time. Whether it be anger, frustration, etc but when I take a step back to review and edit I have hesitations. I know angst is a category and an option to post but at the same time I want what I create to be an escape for someone. Would that be helpful to others to read that or could it not be.

I guess anything could be helpful to anyone. Just a little bit of internal struggle. Maybe that is what is causing the block. Also I think I have a slight hesitation to post anything short after posting 2000-3000+ stories in the past. Even my word salads have been decently long. Also I get easily distracted or something just takes longer than I think it should and I get discouraged.

I hope everyone is having a good April. The weather is finally warming up but I think it has gone a bit too far. Gone from cold straight to HOT. I was hoping to have a little more slightly warm days so that way I could spend some time hanging outside and get back into painting. Or even just to enjoy nature for more than 15, maybe 20 minutes if Im lucky before it gets too hot out there. After I post this I might go try to enjoy as much time I can tolerate in the heat. I got some good nature photos the last time I went outside with my camera. Sometimes I contemplate if I should post them on here or maybe make an Instagram account and post them on there.

#tera-91 #rant #rant post #writing #photography #painting #dog owner #thoughts

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gingeraleforthetrauma · 2 years

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I suppose while writing these memories down, I'll be jumping around a bunch, no linear timeline here.

TW here ig, includes child being locked in a hot car, gaslighting and a panic attack.

Today's memory is of the 4th of July I'd mentioned before, it's longer than the first memory.

Going back a bit, my parents got divorced between 2010-2011, and from then on there was a series of rather nasty court hearings all the way up until I turned 18.

Like most kids with divorced parents, my sibling and I were had the 50/50 custody agreement pushed onto us, the especially wonderful 5/2/2/5 schedule.

This of course, also included holidays switching between parents each year.

Thinking on it now, it had to have been when I was 9 (that would've been 2011, the first 4th of July since my parents had officially been divorced).

Back then, my dad had this beat to hell white and grey Subaru Outback, I still feel panicky when I see one of them on the road or in a parking lot. We'd gotten picked up from where we lived with our mom and had gone to some event or another before getting slushies at our local SA gas station, the promise of going swimming after just one more stop, I was not terribly pleased.

Especially when I found out just where we would be going. A former friend of the family, who had stabbed everyone but my wonderful father in the back, was apparently going to be hosting us for an hour or two before we'd finally get our dad's apartment and go swimming.

I told him as much seeing as at 9yo I hadn't quite retreated into my shell enough to not be vocal about what I didn't agree with.

I was given two options as a result, either stop arguing and go inside with him and my sibling, or stay in the car until he was done chatting with his friend (both options had the addition of being grounded from the pool, going outside and playing video games). Logically, I asked how long he would take. He said he would be less than 30 minutes and that my sibling didn't get a choice, they'd be going inside with our father.

I ended up choosing to stay in the car. Which was, admittedly, incredibly stupid. It was in the upper 80s outside, he refused to rolled the windows down, told me not to open the door unless I was joining them inside, and to stay out of sight in case anyone saw me and tried to break in.

(I had less than half of my slushue left and it'd long since melted and gone warm)

Thinking back on it now, I realize I'd had a panic attack. I couldn't breath and within five minutes of being locked in it became unbearably stuffy and the cool from the AC had been swept out the doors when I'd been left in the car. Anytime I saw anyone outside I panicked more, the idea that someone would try and kidnap me had been planted and my little 9yo brain couldn't rationalize anything by then.

I spent over 45 minutes alone, in a sweltering car in almost 90 degree weather with only a tiny bit of syrupy water to drink (it didn't make past the first 10 minutes).

It's one of the most terrifying things - and I've been in a handful of nasty situations both before and since then - I've ever experienced.

By the time they came back, my sibling was stressed and teary by then, I was extreamly flushed and sobbing in the backseat, I've never done well with heat, and shaking from the panic attack I'd unknowingly had.

My father proceeded to chew me out for "not just doing what he told me to begin with," called "foolish and stubborn" for not just opening the door (despite the fact that it'd been made very clear, with anger and a raised hand, that unless I wanted to go inside his friends house I wasn't allowed to open it) and dragged around for another hour or two after in the heat without enough to eat or drink.

From there on out I got grounded almost every weekend he had us, trying to refuse going to the various houses his friends occupied, with the bonus of him provideding less and less food and drink outside of meals for years.

Nowadays I tend to get heat exhaustion rather easily and had a burning hatred for just about every holiday my family celebrates. It took years to be able to wait in the car with or for anyone and have the engine off without feeling panicky; I also feel intense anger towards anyone who can leave their kid/s or pet/s in a hot car, regardless of whether or not they crack the window and leave water with them.

#trauma #childhood trauma #panic attack #anxitey #locked car in summer heat #memories #does this count as neglect?#my father also speant the next decade after that reducing the amount of time he left me #every time it got brought up #he used to say 'an hour' but by the time i was 14 he'd reduced it to 'less than 20 minutes'#tw triggers #trauma survivor #not editing typos #too stressful to read through it again now that ive finally typed it all out #sorry

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phoebe-delia · 3 years

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Has anyone asked for song #1 yet? I'm very curious which song you're listening to most.

I really enjoy your writing in combination with the song prompts! Thank you for sharing it with the world!

Hello darling! Thank you for this ask. As a matter of fact, no one has requested 1!

My number 1 song is the explicit version of "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly and AJ.

I know, I thought it would be a Taylor Swift song, too! I will say, this playlist was from Apple Music and I recently started using Spotify more so idk if this is still accurate for my current No. 1 song, but it's still a bop.

This is a bit of a challenge, but I figure if I can write a fic based on "Yeah!" by Usher, I can give this a try. This fic will be *mostly* funny and fluffy but there's some angst with a happy ending.

5 Times Draco Almost Broke Up With Harry

"Tell me something," Draco said shyly, tracing patterns into Harry's bare arm. Sunlight streamed into the living room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I don't already know about you."

"Like what?"

Draco's expression turned exasperated. "I don't know, Harry, that's rather the point."

"Right...er, okay, here's something you don't know about me. I don't like whipped cream."

Draco looked at him, startled. "You don't?"

"Er, no. I also don't like marshmallows or--"

"What?"

"Or avocado, or eggs."

Draco sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Merlin, here we go."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time I tell people the foods I don't like, they get all indignant and huffy," Harry waved a hand. "It's so weird. Like I've offended them by disliking meringue."

"You don't like meringue?! That's it, I'm breaking up with you."

Harry groaned. "I regret this. I regret everything. Just--forget it."

Draco sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. In my exaggerated teasing, I see how I might've struck a nerve."

"It's fine--I'm just tired of people taking my food preferences as a personal insult."

"I take everything you do as a personal insult."

Harry just chuckled. "That you do, Draco, that you do."

"POTTER!!"

"WHAT?"

"GET IN HERE!"

"WHERE'S 'HERE'?"

"TAKE A WILD GUESS, AUROR POTTER!"

....

"Ah, good to see that your tracking skills aren't too hopeless. Now, care to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Er...you're angry?"

"Yes, I am angry--and the reason for that is obvious if you merely look around the room and see if you can identify what might be bothering me."

"You get really formal when you're upset."

"Potter--"

"And you call me Potter."

"If only you would use your powers of observation for discovering the cause and not the symptoms of my frustration, this conversation would be over."

...

"Is it my socks?"

"Your socks, your pants, your shirt, your trousers--all in a heap in the closet."

"So? I haven't done laundry in a while."

"Potter, you do realize there are laundry spells, don't you? So that dirty clothes don't stink up one's closet?"

"...No?"

Sigh. "Alright, I suppose I won't move out this time."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Never. Especially not toward you, baby."

"I should hope not. Now, c'mere and let me teach you the spell."

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this." Draco shook his head mournfully, bits of snow falling from the top of his warm hat. "I trusted you."

Harry scoffed. His breath fogged in the air. "I told you this was happening today. It's not my fault you weren't listening."

"Asking me post-coital if I'd like to attend the Weasley Family Brunch is Slytherin-level manipulation."

"Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?"

"What?" Draco stopped walking, turning to Harry in shock.

"Yeah. Told me I'd do well. But you'd been such an arse to Ron that I begged it to sort me anywhere else."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. Honestly, I did you a favor. You were practically made for Gryffindor."

"Who knows? Maybe we'd have been friends back then."

Draco glared and Harry snickered.

"You know, Potter, between your little jokes and this stunt you pulled, I'm one insult away from Apparating on the spot and leaving you here."

Harry smiled fondly. Taking Draco's hand, he led them toward the Burrow, its warm light a welcome destination in the icy weather.

"Nah, you won't, you know why?"

"Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because then we won't get to be post-coital together."

Draco scowled. Harry laughed.

"Don't say a word."

"Can I just--"

"Harry."

"But I--"

"Potter. Shut up.

...

"Draco I'm sorry--"

"Harry, what is the one thing I asked you to do when you became an Auror?"

"...Don't be stupid."

"Yes. I asked you not to do anything stupid. I asked you not to impulsively put yourself in harm's way."

"Draco it's my job to protect my partner, and--"

"You don't think I understand that? Of course I do! I can't fault you for being a loyal partner, Harry, but running into a hostage situation without calling for backup is the absolute dumbest thing you could've done! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't! And the case is over now."

"You were in St. Mungos for nearly a week! Do you know how agonizing it was to see you like that? Do you--" Draco's voice cracked and he cut himself off, turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart clenched. He walked up to Draco and wrapped strong arms around him from behind, expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I know your job has its risks, Harry, but the least you can do is not create them for yourself. You said the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin; some self-preservation would be good for you."

Harry sighed, nuzzling Draco's neck. "Okay. I'll try."

Draco turned in his arms, looking at Harry with wet eyes. "Good. The last thing I want to do is break up with you, but I couldn't handle it if I lost you any other way, I--" The tears spilled at that. Draco's face flushed in embarrassment, in anguish.

Harry's chest constricted. He pulled Draco close to himself and stroked his hair, letting the other man cry his fears into his shirt.

"I won't let it happen, Draco. I promise."

Draco nodded, his cheek brushing Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled. They'd be okay.

Draco was going to kill Harry.

He was going to break up with him, and then kill him, and then revive him just to break up with him once more.

He cast a Tempus. 8:20.

Over an hour. Over an hour he'd been waiting for Harry to return home. He was beginning to get hot in his tailored suit, despite the cooling charms.

He hadn't heard anything. No Owl, no Floo, no nothing. Either Harry had no respect for decorum or...

Nope. Draco couldn't go there, wouldn't. Harry promised and he always kept his promises.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life, making Draco jump. Harry stumbled through with a panicked expression on his face, dusting the Floo powder from his formal robes.

"Draco! Merlin, I'm so sorry, I thought I had time and then everything got all screwed up and I got here as fast as I could."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Harry, let's just order takeaway."

"Why?"

"Well, we missed our reservation. Cerise won't wait for more than thirty minutes."

Harry pursed his lips. "What if I had something else in mind?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

With a smirk, Harry tossed him a hairbrush, which Draco caught with Seeker instinct.

"Harry wh--" His eyes widened as he felt the pull of a portkey, the sound of Harry's amused laughter echoing behind him.

He landed with a thud on a balcony. After a crack, Harry appeared next to him, gasping to catch his breath for a moment.

"Potter, what the fuck?"

Harry chuckled. "Surprise! Look around, Draco."

Draco's breath caught as he finally took in his surroundings. They were standing on a balcony in Paris, confirmed by the sight of La Tour Eiffel in the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars below them. On the balcony were two chairs and a small table with hot food under a stasis charm. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready for them. Draco checked the label and confirmed with a gasp that it was a 1989 Chateau Lafleur.

"Harry, I--" Draco turned around but was startled into silence at the sight of Harry on his knee, a hopeful smile on his face and a small black box in his hand.

Draco's eyes went wide. "What?" He breathed.

Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I'm sorry I don't like whipped cream. I'm sorry I forget to do laundry, and that I dragged you to Sunday dinner. I'm sorry that I worry you sometimes because my job is dangerous. I'm sorry I run late to our dates sometimes.

But I promise to give you the avocado from my sandwich. I promise to try to remember the spells you taught me, and to use my manipulative powers for good and not evil. I promise I'll use better judgment in the field. And I promise I'll try to be on time for our dates.

And I promise to do all of this for as long as I can, as long as you let me. And if you do--if you promise to love me for the rest of our lives--I promise to do the same. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco let out a delighted, euphoric laugh. "Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!"

Harry grinned and rose from his knee to pull Draco into a nearly bruising kiss. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and looked as Harry slid the ring, a simple silver band with tiny emeralds, onto Draco's finger.

As they ate dinner, looking out over the city, Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me, how'd I do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "With tonight? The proposal?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? I hope it made up for me being late. I'm sure you were about ten minutes from breaking up with me," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco shook his head and smirked. "No, Harry," he raised the glass of wine to his lips. "I'd never do that."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #drarry fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #drarry squad #kinda flangsty #potential breakup song #5 things #5 things fic

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harrysweasleys · 3 years

Text

a little more touch my body // b.b

summary: babie!!! hi!! may i please request a fic based on into you by ariana grande pls? i'll leave the rest up to you, please surprise me (you can also choose if you want to write it for sam, steve, or bucky) thank you so much !!! <3

warnings: lil bit of sexy times, fatws spoilers if you haven’t watched, mentions of alcohol (beer), language

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i chose to write this for bucky!! hope you all enjoy!

“Well, don’t you two look like a sight for sore eyes?”

You huffed out a laugh at your own comment as you stepped down onto the boat, making sure to grip the ledge behind you to avoid losing your balance as the structure bobbed against the tides.

Sam and Bucky sat looking exhausted, each with a beer in their hand, faces slick with sweat and grease. You could nearly smell them from here.

“Where were you all afternoon? Said you’d help,” Bucky raised an eyebrow as he looked you up and down, beer bottle against his lips as he took another sip. As if he knew what he was doing, he leaned his arm back behind him, muscles and tanned skin glistening under the late afternoon sunlight. You peeled your eyes away from the sight just in time to catch the end of his question.

You placed your hands on your hips, giving him a grin, “Sorry to ditch, I was in town with Sarah picking up some stuff. But clearly, I’m devastated that I couldn’t be here to get all gross with you guys.”

Part of you was rather bummed you missed the action. You’d have loved nothing more than to be working alongside Bucky, both of you working up a sweat and sneaking in little touches here and there while Sam looked the opposite way. Little touches that would never really amount to more, but were fun in the moment.

You couldn’t count how many weeks — no, scratch that — months, that you and Bucky had been building up this tension. The winks across the room, the lingering touches when you walked by one another, the inappropriate innuendos and jokes when no one was around. Except that one time that you thought no one was around and ended up subjecting poor Sam to your crude jokes over your earpiece.

It was torture, but the best kind. Bucky knew exactly how to wind you up, and vice versa. Did you ever think this would amount to more? Probably not. You had overheard countless conversations between Buck and Steve about how he wasn’t ready to take a step towards intimacy just yet. Not so soon after regaining his mind and coming back from five years out of extinction, to be more specific.

You couldn’t blame him, though. And you weren’t going to push for more. Not if it made him uncomfortable. No, for now, you were having a blast bubbling up the sexual tension.

“I see that,” Sam motioned his bottle in your direction, “This is an act of betrayal, I hope you know.”

You rolled your eyes, sitting down between the two. The wooden surface was boiling under your legs, so you lifted your knees to keep your skin from burning.

“Oh, drama queen,” you grumbled, reaching your hand towards the cooler. You hadn’t done much physical work today, but the weather was still impossibly hot and a nice cool drink would help for sure.

As soon as you lifted the cooler lid, it came slamming down.

“Buck, what the hell—,” you turned your gaze to the super soldier, a small smirk on his lips.

“Cool drinks are for the workers, sorry,” he was clearly fighting a shit-eating grin, much to your annoyance. His hand was gripped tightly around the cooler lid, thumb brushing against your own skin.

“You two are going to drink all six?” you scoffed, tilting your head to the side as if challenging him.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded his head, pulling his hand away from yours and taking another sip of his beer as if emphasizing his point before speaking, “I think you forget how high my tolerance is.”

“Ah, of course,” you nodded slowly, “How could I forget? Silly me.”

Bucky shot you a wink, leaning back against the edge of the boat. The angle of the sun was hitting him perfectly and you wondered if the heavens above were testing you. The dark blue of his shirt accented his eyes, shining brightly as they looked you over. His dark hair had a few natural highlights — probably thanks to spending nearly a week here under the Louisiana sunshine.

He was so distracting you nearly forgot Sam was behind you until Sarah called his name.

“Sam, can you help me out for a second?” her voice was distant over the sound of the water hitting the boat and your own heart beating a million miles an hour.

He stood up with a grunt, following after her. And leaving you and Bucky alone.

“Just a sip?” you asked, eyes darting back to the cooler before meeting his again, “I’ll take one little sip and then you can have the rest of the bottle.” A fake pout made its way to your lips and you had to fight a smirk at the way his eyes darted down to watch before snapping back up to yours.

“Nope,” he popped the p, giving you another wink. As he brought the bottle back up to his lips, you scooted closer to him, reaching your hand out and taking it out of his grasp before it could reach his lips.

“What—,”

Before he could finish his sentence, you brought the bottle to your lips, giving him a wink before taking a rather large sip. The taste wasn’t great — it was the cheap beer that you guys had picked up yesterday at the corner store — but you were just trying to rile him up. You hadn’t really wanted the drink that badly.

Bucky’s eyes were practically glued to you. You could swear he didn’t even blink as you maintained eye contact, handing him the bottle back with a small wink.

His tongue slid out to wet his lips, suddenly fidgety under the sun. You internally pat yourself on the back, but you didn’t show it. Instead, you maintained a steady staring contest with Buck, not sure who was going to crack first.

God, your heart was beating so fast. Your skin was so warm. You could feel the back of your neck begin to sweat and you could swear that your hands were just as clammy. How did you ever get anything done around this man before?

“I feel like I’m interrupting,” Sam — curse him and his horrible timing — stepped back onto the boat, causing it to sway a bit under his steps.

“What? — It’s — we’re fine,” Bucky stuttered with a hoarse voice, clearing his throat as if you hadn’t noticed. Once again, an internal pat on the back.

“Yeah, okay,” Sam chuckled, “Whatever you guys say. Just keep it PG around my nephews.”

You should be embarrassed by Sam’s jabs, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to feel that way. Instead, you were only focused on how close Bucky was to you. You could smell him — he didn’t smell too great right now, to be honest — but that wasn’t the point. Publicly, you guys never really sat or stayed close to each other. It was more professional if you guys didn’t show whatever was happening between the two of you, really.

But now, relaxed and away from danger, you were both letting your guard down. Sam was sitting across from you, poking fun, but neither of you scooted away from the other like you usually would. It was nice, you thought. This little sense of normalcy. Feeling like you were just two adults insanely attracted to each other instead of two busy Avengers on a break.

You brought yourself back to the moment as you stood up, giving them both a little smile, “I’ll give you guys some guy time, I’ll go help Sarah with dinner.”

Sam gave you a little wave, Bucky keeping his mouth shut as you made your way off the boat, holding onto the little railing as you made your way back onto land. You pulled your shirt down, covering the little bit of your stomach that had been exposed while scooting closer to Bucky.

Shaking your head and trying to un-rile yourself, you made your way over to the Wilson household, a small skip in your step as you did so.

The lasagna and garlic bread that you and Sarah collaborated on went down quick — unsurprisingly, since Sarah had more tips and tricks in the kitchen than you could possibly hope to count — and before you knew it, you were bidding everyone goodnight.

Your pull out couch in the basement was calling your name and normally you couldn’t wait to get under the covers and snooze right off. Except tonight, as soon as you got under the covers, you felt wide awake.

Bucky was in the other room, a small door separating the both of you. You didn’t usually talk after everyone had gone to bed, not wanting to wake anyone up or prevent either of you from getting the proper sleep, but tonight you couldn’t help it. You were practically itching to go over and see him, and you doubted you’d get any sleep if you didn’t. It was like a magnet was pulling the two of you together and the harder you pulled away, the stronger the tug was.

You slipped on a pair of socks after getting out of the bed, the fresh air of the basement hitting your body like a gentle embrace. It had been stupidly warm under the blankets just moments before, so the coolness was very much welcome against your skin.

Your footsteps were muffled by the carpeted floor as you made your way to the door separating you both, knuckles gently knocking against the wood before you could take a second to think about what you were doing. If Bucky was asleep, you’d just be waking him up, and that wouldn’t be very nice, would it? However, if he was awake, what would you even say?

“Yeah?”

Bucky’s voice was soft on the other side of the door, and the creaking hinges broke the beautiful peace as you opened it up, eyes struggling to see in the dark. A small lamp was lit on Bucky’s bedside table, his own blankets tossed off the bed as he sat on the edge. He wore a pair of Sam’s pyjama pants — which you had teased him about a couple of times now — but he wasn’t wearing a shirt. That fact alone was enough to get you to stumble on your own two feet.

“Were you sleeping?” you asked, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible. You remembered Sarah mentioning the basement ceiling wasn’t properly insulated and voices very easily carried throughout the house.

“No,” he replied, eyes meeting yours in the comfortable darkness of the room. You suddenly felt awfully nervous under his gaze, picking at your fingernails as you leaned against the doorframe.

“Okay, that’s good,” you nodded awkwardly, mind still completely blank on whatever it was that you wanted to say. Bucky didn’t seem to mind the awkward silence, though, his eyes scanning over your body slowly just to make sure you were alright.

“I don’t really know why I’m here,” you admitted, finally picking your gaze up off the floor to look at him. His lips curved up into a small smirk and he patted the spot next to him on the bed. Trudging over slowly, you could feel the temperature in the room rise up by what felt like a thousand degrees before you finally sat next to him. He smelled better this time — thanks to the shower that you were so tempted to hop in on — and you could feel the comfortable warmth of his skin next to you as the mattress dipped under your weight.

“That’s okay,” he replied after a good long moment, “You don’t have to have a reason.”

You sat facing him, close enough that you could see the steady rise and fall of his chest, his skin holding a warm glow in the cozy atmosphere of the room. He was so painfully beautiful that you didn’t think words could capture the image.

Feeling awfully brave, you slid one of your hands over to his, your warm fingers sliding against the coolness of his vibranium ones. You knew he couldn’t feel your touch, but he shivered anyway, causing you to slide your hand a little closer to his actual skin. His hand reached quickly across and grabbed yours, intertwining your fingers together. Your head fell against his shoulder, resting your forehead against the spot where skin met metal. Without thinking, you lifted your head and pressed a kiss against the same spot, immediately regretting it when you felt his entire body tense up.

“Sorry — I don’t know what I was thinking,” you stuttered, pulling away.

Before you could get too far, you felt both of Bucky’s hands slide around your waist, tugging you onto his lap in an effortless motion. Your thighs landed on either side of him — practically straddling him — and your chest was nearly flushed against his. His forehead fell against yours and you swore you could hear his thoughts. The internal battle he was having with himself on how far he was willing to take this.

You brought one of your hands up to his hair, raking your fingernails against the sensitive skin at the base of his neck and watched his shoulders sag as he let out a sigh. How you two could go from being ready to rip each other’s clothes off on the boat to this, being intimate and close without having done anything yet, you’d never understand.

His hands slid under your pyjama top, gripping your waist in a way to let you know he wasn’t planning on letting go. And you were more than okay with that.

“Buck,” you whispered, the words hanging in the air before he pulled his forehead away from yours and met your lips with his. His kiss was hot — heavy, and you could feel just how much he had been holding back. He gripped you tight, making sure you felt exactly how badly he wanted this. And you felt the same, hands on either side of his face as you pressed your lips and body against his.

You guys went from having an intimate, gentle touching moment, to having a battle of teeth and tongues within thirty seconds. He let out a low groan as you tried to get closer to him, rocking your hips against his. You hadn’t totally done it on purpose, your goal mostly just to be as close to him as possible, but you weren’t regretting the action one bit.

His hands slid further up your shirt until it was tugged off of your body, breaking the feverish kiss for one quick moment before reconnecting at full force. Your mind was blank, numb, but your belly was erupting with every butterfly in existence as he slid his hands around your exposed torso. You didn’t even register the coolness of the metal — too focused on how hot you felt at the moment. He was grabbing at every bit of you that he possibly could, and you were doing the same to him.

For someone who probably didn’t do much self care, his skin was beautifully soft under your touch, hands sliding smoothly down his back and chest as you continued to kiss the life out of each other. It was intoxicating and you swore you’d be addicted to him after tonight.

He somehow managed to flip the both of you over so that he was hovering on top of you, using his forearms to hold himself up as his lips trailed sloppy kisses down your jawline, your neck, to your collarbones. Everything he did just felt so good, so right, that you could hardly remember where you even were at the moment.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he continued down on his path, leaving kisses in every possible spot that was available.

There was no way in hell you were returning to your own bed tonight.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes one shots

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

26 for the prompts? perhaps w the cat n mouse lads :3 (also look danny i did it i sent a prompt are u proud)

I...actually don't remember what the prompt was for this one, but I'm 87% sure it was "I'm not that scary, am I?"

So fine since y'all keep asking for 'em, here's more of the cat and mouse bois. Shoutout to @gabbydafurry and an anon for finally giving them names.

“C’mon.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“I said no.”

“I’ll make pollo asado for dinner, we can eat it together while we watch!”

Aaron sighed and rubbed his hands against his forehead, trying to ease the dull throb that had yet to wane over the past two days. His headache certainly wasn’t being helped by the constant badgering of his...roommate, for a lack of better words (as well as being a title so eagerly self bestowed by the cat in question) but much like many of their other interactions, his resolve was starting to wear thin. Usually, he was able to hold his ground for at least a week until he was bribed into giving the other some type of social interaction with the promise of his favorite foods. Today, however, the poor mouse just wanted a moment’s peace free from knocking on the walls or calling through the cracks until he answered, and if that meant watching some stupid movie then fine.

Plus, Lucas did know how to make some incredible Mexican food.

“...fine,” Aaron conceded after a pause, the pressure behind his eyes giving him a sharp pang before fading to its usual ache, almost like his own body was projecting how horrible of an idea this was.

As soon as the mouse slipped out from behind the curio, he came face to face with the massive grin of the cat mere inches away from the opening. Seeing the grin only split wider when he was fully in view of the other normally would have instinctively sent a shiver up his spine, it was kind of difficult to be intimidated seeing how Lucas had strangely contorted his body to lay on the floor between the curio and the bookcase. Most cats seemed to be fairly flexible, so it probably wasn’t too uncomfortable for him to be so bent and curled up, but he definitely lost some of that hunter’s prowess with his back twisted sideways and one leg leaning against the shelving.

In a flash, Lucas had managed to untangle his strange positioning to instead be crouched on his knees, now looming over Aaron in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever get used to. He flinched back when his hand started to reach out towards him, fully intending to scoop him up to dizzying heights without a second thought, but the appendage stopped just short of touching him at all. Instead, he dropped his hand palm side up and waited, smiling all the while. At least he was getting better at remembering Aaron’s explicit request to not be grabbed without permission, though he did always apologize with a sheepish look and some little treat whenever he forgot.

Once Aaron climbed onto the awaiting hand that radiated a delightfully intense warmth into his already aching muscles, Lucas was already jumping up a chattering a mile a minute about how much the mouse was going to love the movie he picked out, how dinner would be ready soon, how he wasn’t expecting him to actually agree to watch a scary movie with him since he never seemed like the type who would be into that sort of thing but--

“It’s a scary movie?” Aaron interrupted, the noise finally registering beyond the headache. Truthfully, he tuned a lot of what the other said out for almost every conversation, not that it ever seemed to make a difference. Yeah, sorry, I’m a bit of a chatterbox, he admitted once, but it’s less weird talking to someone who doesn’t respond than to talk to yourself, right?

Debatable.

Lucas tilted his head and snorted. “Uh, yeah? That was one of the first things I told you about. You know that one actress who’s in almost every one of those Christmas movies we watch, who’s always the jealous best friend?” Aaron has no idea who he was referring to given that he never absorbed anything from those stupid romance movies he was boarderline forced to watch, but nodded anyways, “Right, this is supposed to be her big break out role, or something. It’s the first thing she’s doing as a lead actress, and you know, good for her! I’m glad she’s getting out of that typecast she’s been in forever. Horror probably wouldn’t be my first choice for her, but I guess since she has those singing vocals it could carry over to being a scream queen. Kind of like when--”

And Aaron was out of the conversation again.

Lucas continued to drone on about the actress’s entire film career, or at least that’s what the mouse was assuming he was doing when he occasionally zoned back in to pick up a stray word here and there. The headache he had been staving off to the best of his ability was starting to come back with twice as much force as it often did in the later days. He probably could have just asked the other for some aspirin, maybe even some cold medicine as that was no doubt what this bout of illness was turning into, but asking the cat for anything was always out of the question. Of course, Lucas tried to sway him numerous times into thinking it most certainly was not and that he could always ask for whatever he needed, never to his avail. Aaron was indeed willing to prolong his suffering if it meant not having to stomach the dreadful embarrassment that would come to being indebted to the feline, no matter how insignificant.

Unfortunately, he was only setting himself up for failure in thinking this “agreement” would be providing him any sort of relief. His headache was treading dangerously close into becoming a full fledged migraine and the flashes of light and screams from the television would not be doing him any favors. His only saving grace was that, after he had been settled on the couch and Lucas scampered off to get the dinner he promised, the cat turned off every other light possible to, as he put it, really get them in the spooky mood!

The smell of the food was delicious and nauseating. His stomach both wanted and revolted at the idea of anything filling it, which would only serve to worsen his headache no doubt. Damn it all, he wanted to throttle both himself and this illness, the first for agreeing to watch this stupid movie when he was already feeling under the weather, the second for preventing him from getting his half of the deal. These movie-dinner dates deals were the only reason Aaron continued to stick around, even if he thought the torment of being forced to watch awful romcoms in exchange for a hot, homemade meal was a little unfair. No, that wasn’t entirely true, Lucas was a freaking culinary genius as far as the mouse was aware. It was a wonder why he wasn’t majoring in a cooking field.

“I’m not hungry right now,” Aaron lied when Lucas had asked why he wasn’t eating. “I’ll try some later.”

The cat looked at him strangely before shrugging. “Alright, just let me know. If you don’t like it, I can always make you something else.” There he goes again, offering things he knows the other can’t accept. At least he could let it slide this time as he had no appetite to think of any other dish.

Lucas finished his own meal in silence, completely fixed on the television as the opening scene carried on, introducing the canine main character that Aaron did, in fact, vaguely recognize. This was fine, he figured, the dark apartment coupled with a painfully slow movie, a warm body moving to curl up behind him as it so often did during these deals, he could probably get a few moments of real rest in before the credits rolled. As much as he loathed to admit it, the cat was actually rather...comfortable to be forcefully cuddled by. He wasn’t like other movie goers that needed to make a comment on every character’s decision, steady breathing and the occasional purr helping the mouse slowly relax.

That relaxation was cut short as soon as the romcom actress tore her tiny avian neighbor to shreds by the end of the first act.

Aaron had hardly been paying attention to the storyline up until this point, something to do with the girl being bitten and experiencing insatiable hunger lately. The sudden carnage of the otherwise trusting little prey creature made both of them flinch in surprise, though Lucas was quick to laugh it off. From then on the mouse’s unwavering attention was glued to the screen, but not by his choice. A chill ran through him each time she claimed another unsuspecting victim, always a prey animal, and ripped them apart with her teeth and nails like a starving animal. The way the tiny’s incredibly realistic viscera was slurped into her bloody mouth made him queasy, all too easily imagining himself in their shoes.

Eventually, her hunger became too strong and she began attacking fellow predator species as well. Ripping into throats and soft bellies was far messier than snacking on a tiny creature in three bites, making her feast all the more gory. While the violence still unsettled him, it was a touch more bearable now that he couldn’t picture his own body being mangled between the teeth of a predator he thought he could trust. Speaking of…

The mouse gulped and risked a glance behind him at the other who had hardly moved, save for a few jolts and snickers whenever a particularly good jump scare managed to startle him. It didn’t go unnoticed that every time Aaron had physically reacted to a sudden screech or attack, the cat would curl just a little bit tighter around him, hiding a laugh behind a rumbling purr. He wanted to believe this was meant to be an act of comfort and not something equally as nefarious as the canine plotting her next kill. Regardless, Lucas was equally transfixed on the movie, except he seemed to be enjoying every minute of the horror aspect. His tail would flick in interest during the high tension scenes, even more so when a chase sequence was underway. It made sense, considering that was his favorite game to make Aaron play.

Whatever the case may be, the mouse couldn’t help but be unnerved tenfold that the other had the audacity to enjoy a fictional movie he was interested in seeing. The last thing the mouse wanted was for Lucas to get any more ideas when it came to chasing him around the apartment, much less awaken any sort of primitive instinct to maim his prize after it had been captured. To this day, it remains a deep seated fear in the back of his mind that every time the cat cupped his hands over him, his teeth would be quick to follow. Natural instincts were hard to shake for a reason when it came to prey animals such as himself, he could only hope the same wasn’t true for predators.

His imagination was running rampant, enough so that he completely missed how the movie ended. Something about a cure, something about being put down, whatever. The only thing on his mind was the morbidly hilarious thought that if Lucas were to go feral like the canine, would he eat him raw or would he cook him up in another fantastic dish?

Aaron jumped when Lucas moved to sit up behind him, only now registering the credits scrolling across the screen. He stretched a bit, the quickly fading warmth that had been surrounding the mouse making him realize just how tight the other must have been snuggled around him. How did he not notice?

“Wow,” Lucas said, pursing his lips. “That...was one of the worst movies I have ever seen in my life.”

That wasn’t the reaction Aaron had been expecting him to have, but it was certainly better than to hear him go on about how it was a brilliant masterpiece. He got up to flick the lights back on, still laughing as he recounted each poorly written scene and cheesy effects. “I mean, oh my god, right? The mail man saved everyone? Seriously? I actually feel bad for making you watch that, you totally have dibs on the next movie night.”

He turned around to look at the mouse who was still huddled tight on the couch, wide eyes glued to the screen even if it was just names moving along with ominous background music. Lucas gave him another quizzical look, smirking.

“C’mon, even you have to admit those tinies had zero survival instincts. Like, who goes up to a rabid dog and asks for directions? I get suspending my disbelief and all, but they could have made it just a pinch realistic. This is so going to tank her acting career…” The cat shook his head and moved closer to the couch so that he stood right in front of the television, finally drawing the other’s attention to himself. “Hey, you hungry now?”

Oh, absolutely fucking not. An hour and a half of being tensed up gave no relief to his aching muscles and now that the lights were back on, so was his pounding headache. His stomach rolled, the nausea a mix of dizziness and disgust from the special effects. He didn’t even want to think about food, he didn’t want to be out in the open anymore, and he most certainly did not want to spend another minute in the cat’s company right now.

“S-sure…” Aaron finally squeaked out. He just needed Lucas out of the room, distracted somewhere so he could make a break for it. In some instances, he would have just darted off whether the cat saw him or not, but that always resulted in a game of chase that had a 50/50 success rate, the other loving it anyways. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to rest up and heal and not think about how easy it would be for the other to bite off his head whenever he felt like it.

Lucas stood there for a minute, studying him, and just when Aaron genuinely feared he was going to pounce, he flashed an innocent smile. “Cool, just give me a couple minutes to get it heated up.” And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

Aaron decided to be bold and waste a few precious seconds of his head start to collect himself. Deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous. Lucas had been nothing but kind to him. Aloof, but still kind all the same. But as a prey animal that spent the better part of his life living in walls and stealing to survive, trust was a risk he simply couldn’t take. There was hardly any benefit to keeping up this con if the end goal was simply to eat him. For all he knew, though, Lucas was nothing more than a merciless sociopath that was willing to milk every ounce of fear he could before chowing down. A sociopath obsessed with romantic comedies and wore an apron when he cooked and had begged Aaron for two months straight to tell him when his birthday was so that he could make him a miniature cake.

...okay, so maybe Lucas wasn’t a sociopath, but that didn’t mean he was trustworthy. Evolution gave him sharpened fangs and agile reflexes for a reason and the mouse was not about to find out what it was like to be on the receiving end of those one day.

With his head as clear as it was going to be for the time being, sans the dull throb behind his eyes, the mouse finally pushed himself up to make his way over to the couch arm. Slowly, as to not overwork his stiff joints, he climbed his way down to the floor and skittered under the couch for a little extra protection. Strangely, he noticed that he didn’t hear any noises coming from the kitchen just up ahead and when he stopped by the doorway, he couldn’t see anyone either. Losing track of the massive cat should not be possible, especially considering this was a one bedroom apartment and there was literally nowhere else for the feline to go without coming back through the entryway. Aaron should have taken it as a blessing, but of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone.

He proceeded to be daring and come out from under the couch completely to peek into the kitchen, confirming it was empty. Again, that shouldn’t even be possible for Lucas to slip out without having to directly pass the living room to go somewhere else. Unless he had, which would mean Aaron missed him somehow. He had been in quite a deep thought process on the couch...but he could have sworn he was only collecting himself for a minute!

The answer became glaringly obvious when the mouse took a few hesitant steps back and turned to retreat under the safety of the couch, only to come face to face with Lucas. He damn near jumped out of his skin, slamming his back against the wall in an effort to gain another inch of distance between himself and the face taking up his entire view. Really, this was nothing too out of the ordinary for the cat, he loved to sneak up and pounce whenever the opportunity presented itself and Aaron wasn’t too obviously close to heart failure. What made his heart stutter, however, was the fact that Lucas didn’t look like...well, Lucas. There was no smile, no warm eyes, no words being talked a mile a minute about nothing.

No, there was just a frowning cat with his ears pinned back and pupils slit, stalking closer with a terrifying rumble in his throat.

Instinct overtook him as soon as he saw the other’s lip twitch, trying to dart under the couch for safety and having his path immediately blocked by a hand being slammed down, claw out. Aaron couldn’t even yelp, the bile in his throat threatening to turn into vomit if he idled around too long. So, he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and scampered in the opposite direction with the cat hot on his trail. He very nearly dodged a swipe, Lucas hissing that his blow didn’t land while Aaron only tried to speed up his sprinting. They circled maybe half of the living room, the mouse weaving under furniture while the cat knocked into them in an effort to jarr his prey into taking a misstep.

It worked, unfortunately, when Aaron took a sharp turn at the bookshelf and caused Lucas to clip it with his shoulder. The small bump did nothing to deter the cat on his hunt, but the two books that came tumbling down were enough to make the smaller skid and trip to avoid being squashed under the novels. He ended up twisting his ankle awkwardly, stumbling flat on his face while the momentum of his running made him roll twice until he landed on his back. Despite being winded and the additional pain in his leg, he knew there was no time to waste, trying to pull himself. It was too late, though. The cat was already on top of him, hand coming down to pin him under his palm while only his head poked free from between his fingers.

That cold, terrifying face came nearer, eyes tunnel visioned on its prize. Oh God, Aaron would give anything to have the other Lucas back right now. He’d watch a thousand sappy movies, do a date night for every meal, actually move into his bedroom like the cat had suggested he do a dozen times. He wanted...fuck, he wanted his friend back. What he thought was his friend, anyways. Not this killer, not this predator who was baring his teeth and was now mere inches away from biting off his face and--

The growling above him broke off into a snort shortly before turning into a full blown laugh. Aaron wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes in preparation for his certain death, but when he dared to open them and blinked away the budding tears, he saw that smile he had been wishing for again. Kind and warm, just like eyes, and it was like Lucas had never even taken the form of a starving hunter in his life. Like he hadn’t been moments away from devouring his beloved roommate.

“Oh, come on,” he howled with laughter, “You can’t be serious! That movie actually scared you? I mean, I thought you looked a little freaked out by it, but wow!”

The movie...so this...this wasn’t real. Lucas was just pretending, just playing a prank on him. He thought that the movie had simply wound him up and made him jumpier than usual, no different than watching a zombie flick and popping out from behind a bush at your friend later on.

Except it was different. It was different in the fact that zombies aren't real, but predators are. Predators didn’t need an excuse to go feral and maim and consume their tiny cohabitants, they simply could by the laws of nature. And yes, it may be illegal and have several laws in place to protect prey species, but if no body was ever left behind, who could say if foul play was involved? That was the whole plot point in the otherwise dull movie they sat through together, the reason why the woman was able to avoid suspicion of her sickness by feeding on tinies that could only be reported missing at most.

Lucas’s laughter had tapered off, still clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, note to self, no more horror movies.” Finally, he released Aaron from under his hand to sit back on his haunches. “Man, I really didn’t think you would scare that easily, especially from a B-movie like that. Anyways, are you actually ready to eat now? I put your stuff in the oven so it would reheat better, but it should be done by now….Ronnie?”

Aaron hadn’t moved an inch since he was originally pinned, not even after the hand had been lifted off of him. He just stared up blankly at the cat, trembling and wide eyed, unable to do anything as the rapid succession of events sunk in. The cat’s humor died down a little, smile hesitating.

“Hey, look, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist, you know?” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “You didn’t even notice when I came back so I thought...I don’t know, it was funnier in my head. I almost broke character and started laughing before you ran!” With still no verbal response, Lucas reached out a hand. “Aaron? You good? Come on, I’m not that scary, am I?”

The reaction he got probably wasn’t what he was hoping for with Aaron suddenly scrambling to push himself away from the outstretched hand that might trap and tear apart his limbs. He gave a sharp squeak, managing to find his footing only to come crashing down as soon as he took the first step, his ankle noticeably swollen by this point. His cry of pain was muffled into a desperate grunt, trying so hard to drag himself away as a last ditch effort to avoid the same fate as the bird and the squirrel and the mole in the movie.

Lucas gasped. “Oh, Ronnie, your leg!” Both hands were reaching for the mouse now, aiming to cup around him and scoop him up before they surely put him out of his misery. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t...oh my God, I hurt you.”

Yes and no. In truth, Aaron had been the one to hurt himself by making his body move in ways it physically shouldn’t. But that didn’t change the fact that Lucas had shown his true colors. Perhaps in hindsight, that wasn’t a fair assessment, as he really did think he was playing a harmless little joke on a skittish friend. The pain came from knowing that the cat could turn feral, though, no matter how genuine he was being. There was still clearly an instinct within him, one that knew how to hunt and bare his teeth and hiss, one that knew deep down where they both ranked on the food chain. It hurt in knowing everything he thought about his friend, everything that kept him from really letting down his walls like the other so desperately wanted, was right. Cats and mice were not friends.

“Get away from me!” Aaron shrieked when the hands came too close. Though they withdrew quickly, he didn’t bother to watch if they would move again as he forced himself up to stumble back to his nook behind the bookshelf.

“Aaron, wait!” It was a fruitless request and Lucas knew it as he didn’t even try to stop the mouse from disappearing behind the furniture back into the walls. It would only make matters so much worse. “Aaron, please, you’re hurt, just...at least let me help you. Please. I...I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I promise!”

The cat shuffled closer, leaning down in hopes that the other could at least hear his pleas better, could hear how sincere he was trying to be. “I would never hurt you, Aaron. You’re one of my best friends. Look, it was a stupid prank and I’m an asshole and I’ll never do it again, just please come out. Just let me know if you’re alright?”

It didn’t matter how hard or for how long he tried, Aaron was long gone within the walls.

78 notes · View notes

calwrites · 3 years

Text

Fearless

Prequel to Don’t You

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Word count: 4.5k

————————

“Looks like it finally stopped raining.”

The murmur of the coffee shop was replaced by the sounds of the city as you followed Sebastian outside. The humidity seemed to hit you like a truck, making you miss the air conditioning you had just left.

“Finally. I thought I was going to be stuck in that coffee shop with you forever.” You laughed at the faux offended look on Sebastian’s face. “That’s what I get for not checking the weather.”

“Next time I’ll let you wait out the rain by yourself,” Sebastian threatened. His grin made the corners of his eyes crinkle a bit. Had they always done that? Had you just never noticed before?

“At least then I won’t have a bunch of teenage girls taking pictures of me the whole time. They’re scary. How do you deal with that all the time?” It had been disconcerting to have the group of girls staring at you and Sebastian as you sat and chatted. For a moment, you had thought you were crazy when you noticed them looking. The first thought you had was that you had something on your face or needed to fix your hair, but you realized why they were so focused on your table when they walked over to ask Sebastian for pictures.

Sebastian let out a sigh as he shrugged. For a second you were worried that you had said something wrong. “I just try to ignore it most of the time. I’m polite if they come up to me. I’d rather they like me than hate me.”

“I’m sure you have lots of stories. You’ll have to tell me sometime.” Your eyes widened when you realized what you’d said. What if he didn’t want to see you again? “I mean, if you’re staying in the city long. I’m sure you’re really busy.”

“I’ve got some promo to do soon, but I’m not filming again for a few months. I wanted a bit of the break.” Sebastian waved his hand. “Let’s not talk about my work. What about you? You taking the business world by storm?”

“Well I did just get a raise, so now I can almost afford my rent, groceries, and student loans.” The joys of living in New York City.

“Ah sounds like everything’s going well then. Are your parents still around?” Your parents had basically fallen in love with Sebastian when they first met him freshman year. A group of your friends had come over to your house for a movie night and Sebastian had insisted on staying to help you clean up after everyone else had left. Your mom had spent the next few weeks not so subtly dropping hints that she thought you should date him.

“Yeah they’re still in Jersey. They tried to convince me to move in with them, but I told them I didn’t want to have to commute into the city every day. Of course, that set them off about how that’s what they’ve been doing my whole life because they didn’t want me growing up without a yard or whatever.”

“So it sounds like they haven’t changed much?” You shook your head slightly to force yourself to stop watching Sebastian as he laughed.

“No they have not.” You bumped your shoulder against Sebastian’s gently. “They’re your number one fans, you know.”

“Oh they are?” His eyebrows raised in surprise, and he was already fighting a smile, no doubt waiting to hear what embarrassing things your parents had done since high school graduation.

“They see all of your movies in theaters.” Multiple times, but you didn’t want Sebastian to think they were weirdos.

“Even the bad ones?”

“Even the bad ones. I did tell them that they aren’t allowed to buy any of the Bucky dolls.”

“They’re action figures.”

You rolled your eyes, but found yourself matching Sebastian’s smile anyway. “Whatever. It’d be weird seeing a mini version of you at my parents’ house. It’s bad enough that they still have a bunch of high school pictures hung up.”

“My mom does too. She’s going to be so excited when I tell her that I ran into you. You were always her favorite of our group.”

You stopped suddenly, grabbing Sebastian’s arm. He looked a little alarmed, but you ignored it. “Are you serious? I was always so scared of her. This is the best day of my life.” You had met Sebastian’s mom a couple of times throughout high school, but had never been able to tell whether or not she liked you.

“Scared of her? Why? Because of the accent?”

“The accent didn’t help, but really it was because she’s hot. That makes her intimidating.”

Sebastian groaned and pulled a face. “No. You can’t think my mom is hot. That’s not allowed. Take it back or I’m sending your parents all of the Bucky dolls I can find.”

“It’s not like I wanted to bang her or anything. I just think that she’s an attractive woman. Which makes sense considering how attractive you are.” Your mouth snapped shut. You weren’t sure who was blushing more, you or Sebastian. “Let’s forget about this whole conversation.” Sebastian laughed slightly and nodded.

It was silent between you two as you continued your walk through the streets. You weren’t really sure where he was going. You were heading to your car, but you couldn’t tell if Sebastian was also going somewhere or if he was just following you. If you had looked up, you would have noticed that Sebastian was watching you carefully. But you didn’t look up. Your eyes were on the pavement, watching the glow of the lights in the reflection from the rain.

“Do you remember that poster that was in our English class freshman year?” you asked suddenly. Sebastian’s brow crinkled slightly as he tried to remember, but then he followed your gaze to the glowing pavement and smiled.

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” The two of you laughed slightly as you remembered your slightly eccentric teacher. “We made fun of that poster so much.”

“It was a stupid poster. But remember it was raining when we were leaving the homecoming dance freshman year and we started dancing in the parking lot-”

“And all of our friends thought we were crazy,” Sebastian finished. “To be fair, we were crazy. That was probably the most fun part of the dance though.”

“Are you saying that I was a bad date?” You gasped and brought your hand up to your mouth as if Sebastian had offended you. Both of you dissolved into giggles.

“I’m saying that I was probably a bad date. I was so awkward. I had such a big crush on you.” Sebastian rubbed his neck uncomfortably. You definitely didn’t notice how the action made his arms look.

“Wait really?” This was news to you. You had always kind of assumed that Sebastian didn’t like you very much. He had always seemed to just tolerate your presence.

“Oh yeah. All the guys used to make fun of me because I got so awkward around you. That’s why I never talked when you were with us.”

“I just thought you were shy or something.” Or that he secretly hated you.

“Well that too,” Sebastian admitted with a small grin.

“You should have just told me. I had a crush on you too. I was so excited when you asked me to the dance.” You were so engrossed in conversation that you almost walked right past your car. “Oh, this is me.”

“Oh.” Was it your imagination or did Sebastian look disappointed? Before you could figure it out, he was smiling again. “It’s been nice catching up. We should hang out again. You still have the same number?”

You assured Sebastian that you did and the two of you exchanged more pleasantries. After sliding into your car, you watched Sebastian continue down the street. The memory of the two of you dancing wildly in the parking lot while the rest of your friends complained about the rain made you smile. You kind of wished you had asked him to dance again.

————————

Part of you already wished that this weekend would never end, even though it had barely even begun. You had finally made it out of the city and still had a couple hours of driving left, but you were already dreading having to go back into the office on Monday.

You and Sebastian had been hanging out more since running into each other last month. Most of the time, you got away without any pictures of the two of you getting out, but recently that had been getting harder and harder to do. Now, through what you could only assume was some sort of social media stalking witchcraft, people had managed to figure out who you were. The hundreds of notifications had freaked you out at first, but after deleting all of the social media apps from your phone, it was totally not a big deal.

Until your coworkers had found out. Some magazine had printed a picture of you and Sebastian, including your name underneath it, so now everyone at the office was either making fun of you by pretending to take paparazzi pictures whenever you walked into a room or constantly asking about Sebastian. Needless to say, you desperately needed this weekend away.

“Hungry eyes,” Sebastian sang, rather poorly though you suspected that was on purpose. You had seen him in musicals in high school. He half turned towards you, reaching out with one hand while the other stayed on the wheel, as he continued to sing along to the music. “One look at you and I can’t disguise these-”

“Keep your eyes on the road,” you scolded, though you couldn’t help but laugh at his bad attempt to hit a high note. “You know, I was worried that you would get us killed at the cabin, but now I know you’re going to get us killed before we even make it there. And stop caressing my hair.” You slapped his hand away for emphasis.

He reached out again to run a hand down your hair. “I am not caressing your hair-”

“Definitely were.”

“-and I am not going to get us killed. We are going to have a nice relaxing weekend at a cabin that I rented and am graciously letting you stay at without paying me back. And we aren’t going to worry about paparazzi or annoying coworkers or random people on the street with cell phones.” There may have been a incident earlier that week where you had almost gone up to a random person in the street to yell at them about taking pictures of you and Sebastian. It turned out they were just a lost tourist who barely spoke English. That was when Sebastian decided that you needed a vacation too.

“I think I’m paying you back by forcing myself to spend time with you. You’re very hard to get along with. Plus, I have no money for vacations. We can’t all be actors in Marvel movies.” The trees blurred by as Sebastian drove down the highway.

“You know, I could probably get you in the next Captain America movie. You might not have any lines, but you could stand in the background.” Had he ever offered any of your other friends from high school roles in his movies? No, you couldn't let yourself get caught up in these kinds of questions.

“Sebastian, thanks again-”

“Stop! I told you to stop thanking me-”

“Thanks again,” you continued loudly, “for inviting me. I know that you were looking forward to a relaxing weekend away before you have press stuff. If you want, we don’t have to talk to each other. I don’t want to ruin your relaxation.”

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably in his seat at your thanks, but then shot you an incredulous look. “How would you ruin my relaxation? I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want to spend time with you.”

“Promise?”

Sebastian sent you a smile that was so full of warmth that you could have melted right there. You were definitely getting caught up now. You tried to snap yourself out of it by thinking about all of the reasons you could never date Sebastian. First, he was Sebastian. He knew what you looked like when you were young and awkward. He had seen the awful bangs you cut yourself sophomore year. Second, he was Sebastian Stan. Surely he’d never date a nobody like you. Not that he was stuck up now. He was surprisingly similar to how he had been in high school. It’s just, he could date models if he wanted to. You were definitely not a model. And you wouldn’t even want to date someone in the spotlight like him. Third, you had been on like two dates with the skeazy guy from accounting. If you ignored most of what he said, he was only a little skeazy. Barely tolerable really. You could work with that.

But then Sebastian ran his hand through his hair, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from saying anything stupid. Did he know what he was doing or was he just naturally this cool now? Either way, it was going to be a long weekend.

————————

The dance was not fun. Whoever was writing the prom scenes in all of those cheesy movies was full of crap. The decorations looked bad, your dress was uncomfortable, and you were so busy making sure everything was running smoothly that you weren’t even getting to enjoy your senior prom. You never should have agreed to head the prom committee. Surely the night would be more fun if you didn’t have any responsibilities.

Except you’d probably still be standing on the edges of the dancing watching as all of your friends danced with their boyfriends. You had thought that this would finally be the dance you had a boyfriend for, but then your boyfriend broke up with you less than two weeks before because you were spending too much time working on prom. Great. Wonderful.

It had been difficult to mentally prepare yourself to go to senior prom without a date after working so hard on it. It had seemed almost poetic when Sebastian asked you. The two of you had gone to your first high school dance together and now you were at your last high school dance together.

Except Sebastian had barely talked to you all night. In fact, he had barely even looked at you. At least, that’s what you thought. Sebastian later confessed to you that he was scared he’d get in the way of your prom committee duties so he watched you from afar as you took care of the last minute issues. But you didn’t know that yet.

“Decided to actually acknowledge me?” you snapped when Sebastian leaned against the wall beside you.

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He was probably already regretting coming over to talk to you. “I probably deserve that. You just seemed busy.”

“There were a couple of issues that I had to take care of. I still want to enjoy the dance though.”

“So let’s enjoy it.” Sebastian held his hand out to you and nodded to the dance floor. You smiled gratefully at him and took his hand, letting him lead you out.

Neither of you were great dancers, and the dance floor was maybe a little too crowded, but you made the best of it. After bumping into another couple one too many times, you and Sebastian retired back to the wall, perfectly content to watch the others and whisper amongst yourselves.

“So have you had fun tonight?” Sebastian asked. You had, which was surprising considering how badly the night had started out. Sometimes you forgot how well you and Sebastian could get on. It was so rare to talk to him one on one. You really didn’t know how prom could have gone better. You were kind of disappointed that prom was wrapping up. Already, the dance floor had begun emptying as people left for various after parties.

“I did.” Sebastian grinned, obviously pleased with your answer. “But it wasn’t nearly as good as homecoming freshman year.”

Sebastian's smile faded as he tried to recall the dance you were talking about. “Wasn’t that dance really awkward though?”

“Sure the actual dance was,” you shrugged. “But dancing in the parking lot after was one of my favorite high school memories.”

Sebastian threw his head back to laugh, his hand resting on your shoulder to steady himself. “I’ll admit that I’m kind of glad it’s not raining tonight. My mom was not happy that I got my suit wet. But we can still dance like that tonight. There’s plenty of room on the dance floor.”

“Absolutely not,” you scoffed. “We’d look crazy.”

“Everyone here is either our friend or someone who we’ll probably never see again.” Sebastian held his hand out to you. You bit your lip as you considered before meeting his eyes. He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Fine.” Sebastian laughed as you took his hand, once again allowing him to drag you onto the dance floor. He was truly fearless in his dancing this time. Obviously you had to follow suit and ignore the looks people were throwing you as you and Sebastian twirled and spun and jumped around. By the time it was time to leave the dance, you both were red faced and breathless with laughter. The sky was perfectly clear as you walked through the parking lot, but part of you wished it was raining so you could once again dance in a storm in your best dress with Sebastian.

————————

“I thought you weren’t talking to me because you didn’t really want to go with me.”

“What?” Sebastian took his eyes off the road quickly to look over at you. “Why would I ask you if I didn’t want to go with you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe our friends told you to since neither of us had dates.”

“You’re crazy. I was so intimidated by you that I didn’t want to get in your way.” You scoffed and started to speak but Sebastian shushed you. “You’ve always been the most impressive person in the room.”

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to that. Sebastian Stan thought that you were impressive. But what exactly did that mean? That he thought it was neat that you managed to wrangle high school students enough to plan prom? He said ‘you’ve always’ which seemed to imply that he still felt that way. Right? But he was a successful actor. He worked with people way more impressive than you every day.

The thoughts flashed furiously through your head as Sebastian continued to drive slowly through the town. He had certainly achieved his goal to get away from the city. It was hard to believe the small town you’d spent the weekend in was so in the same state as the city. Paparazzi had certainly not been a worry for the two of you. Eventually, the car reached the end of the road. Rather than turning around and heading back into town, Sebastian put the car in park.

“I don’t want to go back,” he sighed. You had to agree with him. You wanted to stay right there. It had been so relaxing to get away from it all. No paparazzi. No fans. No coworkers. Just you and Sebastian. But it couldn’t last. You had work, and Sebastian had interviews.

“So let’s stay here,” you suggested. “We’ll stock up on food and then barricade ourselves in the cabin. We’ll obviously have to defend ourselves when Marvel comes looking for you and my company comes looking for me, but I have complete confidence that we can take them.” Not that you had reached a position in the company where they would notice you were missing. Maybe after a week or two they’d notice something was off. Marvel was sure to be quicker though.

“Ha ha you’ve made your point.” He sighed again. “This has been the best weekend I’ve had in a long time. Thanks for coming with me.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” Your voice sounded small in the sudden stillness of the car. Sebastian’s eyes flickered over your face, going from your eyes to your lips. “What did you mean earlier?”

“About what?”

“When you said that I was always the most impressive person in the room.” You were a little nervous about his answer. There was a good chance you’d made it out to be deeper than he meant. But then you remembered how fearless and free you felt when Sebastian led you out onto the dance floor at prom, and you knew you had to know the answer.

“Exactly that. I’m constantly in awe of you. The way you were the smartest person at school. I mean, I think you’re still the smartest person I know. I don’t understand anything you’re saying when you talk about work. You always knew exactly what to say to diffuse any of our friends’ drama. You’re kind and funny and always keep me on my toes.” Sebastian paused for a moment. You tried to speak, but all you could do was look at his beautiful blue eyes. “Running into you might be the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Sebastian,” you murmured. Before you could think of anything else to say, Sebastian’s lips were on yours. You smiled into the kiss as you ran your fingers through Sebastian’s hair. It was the perfect length. You tried your best to capture the memory of this moment. The feel of his lips. His hand on your cheek. The faint sound of birds chirping outside. The patter of rain on the car roof. It was all perfect, and you wanted to remember every second of it.

————————

You didn’t know how life could get better than this. Sebastian’s hand was entwined with your own as you walked through the streets. You had been nervous about this at first. What would his fans think? So far they had been curious but benign when it came to you. Hopefully that wouldn’t change now.

You had almost cancelled when Sebastian showed up at your door. A night in suddenly sounded really good. He hadn’t let you though. Instead, Sebastian had grabbed your hand and pulled you out onto the street. You laughed as he twirled you, causing the skirt of your favorite dress to flow out.

“Good thing it’s not raining today,” Sebastian had laughed. “This would be much less enjoyable if we were getting rained on.”

“I don’t know about that. I think we normally have a pretty good time in the rain.”

You had managed to walk to the restaurant without being spotted, though you had noticed some people taking pictures as you were eating. By the time the bill had been paid, you were more than happy to take Sebastian’s hand and follow him outside. A short walk later and the two of you were strolling around a park eating ice cream on the way back to your apartment.

“So did you have fun tonight?” Sebastian asked.

“I did,” you admitted with a smile. “It was a lot better than I was expecting.”

“Ouch.” Sebastian made a faux wounded expression that ended up making you both laugh. “I didn’t realize you thought I’d be a bad date.”

“It wasn’t you I was worried about. Your fans kind of terrify me. Not gonna lie. I half expected them to show up at the restaurant and start pelting me with rotten fruit or something.”

“That would certainly kill the mood, but I don’t think you have to worry about people throwing fruit at you.”

“No. I just have to worry about what people are going to be saying about me online.”

“Hey, stop.” Sebastian caught your hand and pulled you back to where he had stopped walking. His hands cupped both sides of your face as he looked seriously at you. “It’s going to be ok. Yeah, there are going to be some people who say some mean things. Just ignore it. It’s why I don’t bother with social media much. It doesn’t matter what they say.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one they’re going to accuse of dating someone just to latch onto their fame or money.” Soon after you and Sebastian had started hanging out, the posts about you trying to use Sebastian’s game to get ahead had started. It didn’t really make much sense. Being friends with an actor wasn’t going to get you promoted any sooner. Still, they had annoyed you and sometimes made you feel weird about being around Sebastian.

“I know that you’re not using me. You know that you’re not using me. Everyone that matters will know that you’re not using me. If anything, I’m getting the better end of our relationship. I’m getting to date the most amazing woman ever.”

“Most amazing woman ever?” you repeated. “I’m not sure I have the necessary qualifications for that title.”

“Would you like to hear your qualifications?”

“Yes I would.” You giggled slightly, feeling like a kid with a crush, when Sebastian slung his arm around you and pulled you close so that he could whisper in your ear.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You are the smartest person I know. You’re kind and funny and you know all of this already because I’ve told you it before.”

“Yeah but I wanted to hear it again.” Your face was so close to Sebastian’s as you whispered back to him that your noses were almost touching. You hardly dared to breathe as your eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips.

Sebastian just barely started moving closer when you both heard “Is that Sebastian Stan?” coming from a nearby group of people. You jumped back almost immediately, blushing like a kid who was caught holding hands on the playground. Sebastian sent you a small smile before turning to face the fans who had come up to ask for pictures. Once he was finally finished with that, he took your hand again and led you back towards your apartment. Hopefully, no one had gotten a picture of you two in the park about to kiss. Despite what Sebastian had said, you were still scared of what people would say. Your hands shook slightly as you walked, so you slipped your hand out of his, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

Quicker than you would have liked, you were back outside your apartment building. “Do you want to come up?” you asked when he stopped on the sidewalk.

Sebastian shook his head. “I have to be up early tomorrow, and, if I go up, I’m never gonna want to leave.” Sebastian grabbed your hands, which were still shaking, and pulled you close before resting his hands on your hips. “I had a great time tonight.” He smiled, making you feel a bit more brave. This was just Sebastian. The same Sebastian you had known for years growing up.

Slowly, Sebastian brought a hand up to your face, giving you plenty of time to stop him. But you didn’t want to. He was making you feel a bit fearless. You grinned as he kissed you softly. Even though it wasn’t your first kiss, it certainly felt like it. Although technically, it was your first kiss as an official couple. And it was your first kiss out in public, where someone could take a picture that would make its way through the Marvel fandom.

But that didn’t matter to you now. The kiss was flawless. And despite whatever people online were probably already posting about you, you would never regret this moment. Life with Sebastian was undeniably better than life without him.

————————

tags

@bbl32

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x yn #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan oneshot #calwrites

116 notes · View notes

existslikepristin · 3 years

Text

Activated My Trap Card

This one is VERY old. Even from before What A Bummer.

Tags: TheLounge?, CLC, Seungyeon, Yeeun, Eunbin, male reader insert, scary ladies, the most uncomfortable threesome with an audience of one, vote story

~~~~~

You stand in front of the door to Cube Entertainment's offices. You got a strange call a few days ago telling you to come to this address in order to "make a lot of money." You were worried that it might be something illegal, or a scam, but after you looked the address up you got a little excited.

And it seems like you were right to be! After a minute or two, the door opens and you see Seungyeon standing there, looking straight into your eyes. She's wearing a super low cut black tank top, a pair of jean shorts that look like they've been cut extra high for optimal showing off, and the most basic pair of black flip flops ever. She doesn't look surprised to see you.

"Yeah, there you are," she says in her deep, beautiful voice, putting her hands on her hips, "I knew you would be perfect. Come on in. I've got a job for you."

She stands aside to let you through the doorway and closes the door behind you.

Unsure of where to go, you wait for her to make the next move. She does exactly that, walking past you and letting her hand graze past your thigh on the way. That had to be an accident right?

With her back turned to you, you look down and she that her tank top is mostly backless, and her shorts reveal about half of her butt cheeks. There is so much skin on display to you right now. You make an effort not to look, but it's damn hard.

You're about to take another look when Seungyeon spins around gives you a deadly look in the eye. "So tell me... who's your CLC bias?"

Holy shit, why is she putting you on the spot all of a sudden?! She looks like she wants an answer, and fast! This really was a trap! Fuck!

Options: 1. (Picked:) Seungyeon 2. Seunghee 3. Yujin 4. Sorn 5. Yeeun 6. Elkie 7. Eunbin

~~~~~

"Y-y..." you stutter, trying to think about how fast you can turn around and open the door to run.

"Yeeun?" Seungyeon takes a step toward you. She's very, very close.

You stumble back and bump up against the door. Seungyeon follows.

"Y-you," you manage to say.

A mischievous half grin grows on her face. "Yu...jin?" She punctuates the "jin" part by pressing herself up against you. You're still nervous, but you suddenly think you know what this is about (that isn't some shit like assassinating you). She's soft but firm, like you can definitely feel the dancer muscles under her tender skin. Except for her tits, pressed against your ribs. Those are totally soft, other than two tiny points of hardness.

"Nah... you."

You feel Seungyeon's body shiver from top to bottom, and she slides one of her legs up yours, trapping you against the door just a little more. Her hands are suddenly on your shoulders.

"That's what I was hoping. I saw you a while ago. You didn't see me, but I saw a picture of me on your phone," She squeezes your shoulders a little, like she's getting needy, "Do you touch yourself when you see me?"

You gulp. You're really not sure if telling the truth about that will help your case here.

Then it's your turn to shiver, as Seungyeon licks your neck, then buries her face in it. "Tell me which one of my holes you fantasize about being inside the most."

Well, what do you say?

Options: 1. (Picked:) "I've always wanted your pussy wrapped around me." 2. "Do you think your throat can take all of me?" 3. "Spread your ass and I'll show you." 4. "Hole? But what about your tits?"

~~~~~

"I've always wanted your pussy wrapped around me."

...

Holy shit, you've never seen clothes come off a person so fast. You barely catch a glimpse of Seungyeon's nipples before they're smashed against your chest again.

"Well I want to wrap my pussy around your cock," she says, already lowering your pants, "Help me make that happen, okay?"

You're not sure how you're supposed to help, since you're pinned between the door and her paralyzing, hot body. You feel your pants dropping to the floor, taking your underwear with them. Your dick springs up and slaps Seungyeon's pussy. Of course you're already hard.

Seungyeon isn't waiting for anything. She lifts herself onto her toes, and your dick gets just enough room to be able point fully up. Your tip rests somewhere in her folds. She reaches around her back and you feel her fingers adjust you very slightly, and suddenly you feel your entire dick being engulfed by her as she drops back down.

She groans. Loud. You're very aware all of a sudden that you're having sex in the front hallway of an entertainment company's office and look around. Seungyeon grabs your chin and forces you to look into her eyes though. You see stars dancing around them, but that's probably because you're feeling light headed from the pleasure being forced onto you right now.

The look she gives you is... intense. The whole time she's moving her body just right to keep your dick inside her, despite the fact that she's so soaking wet and slippery and at such an awkward angle. She manages it well though.

"Do you like this? Hm?" She asks. You open your mouth to answer but all you get out is a moan as she squeezes your dick with her pussy. Against your stomach, you feel her abs working to make that happen. What a fucking talent!

She smiles and pulls your head down to her open mouth. You open yours too and it gets assaulted by her tongue, dancing just as wildly as her body does.

When she finally breaks away from the thing you could call a kiss, she moves her chest off of yours to let you get a really good view of her jiggling tits, shining with sweat. If you're honest, you've already seen most of them thanks to the clothes she wears, but with nothing to cover them at all they're absolutely amazing.

"I need you to... cum, alright?"

Woah, that's sudden. Does she mean inside?

"The first cum... happens fast," she pants between every couple of words. No wonder, since she's still fucking you while just on the tips of her toes, "but that's what... we need... You need to last... longer for the next round."

You definitely already feel your orgasm coming, she doesn't need to tell you that. But wait. Next round? What is she talking about?

Simple poll this time:

Choices: 1. Take charge and cum the way you want to! She didn't specifically say she needed you to cum inside her, but that's a risk you're willing to take. 2. (Picked:) Are you joking? She knows what she's doing and has a plan for MORE? Don't take charge, she'll make you cum the way she wants to!

~~~~~

No way you're risking doing something she doesn't want you to right now. Not after she mentioned a "next round."

"It's happening now!" you say through your half gritted teeth. You really hope she knows what you meant, but you're having a little trouble forming full, meaningful sentences right now.

Seungyeon gets both of her arms around you and squeezes. Her eyes lock on yours again and you're captivated. You can't look away. "Do it... then."

Her hips grind against yours, and your orgasm hits you like a runaway train. You're dizzy, but you can still notice that she's squeezing down on you. As your cum fills her up, her eyes roll up, she bites her lip, and a grin spreads across her face.

You barely register that you slump to the floor, with Seungyeon's clamping pussy bringing her down with you.

"You dumb fucking hooker."

Suddenly, your senses all come back to you. That wasn't your voice. Or Seungyeon's. Oh shit. You can't see where it came from. But you recognize it. You start to imagine yourself getting beat up by body guards, or thrown in jail, or... fuck, maybe exiled from South Korea? Is that a thing that could happen?

So, whose voice was it?

Options: 1. Seunghee 2. Yujin 3. Sorn 4. Yeeun 5. Elkie 6. (Picked:) Eunbin

~~~~~

With a semi-exhausted sigh, Seungyeon leans to the side and looks over her shoulder. You feel a sense of impending doom as you see that the voice came from the daddy long le-- er, you mean, "maknae" of CLC, Eunbin.

Eunbin is only about fifteen feet away down the hall, wearing shorts (not as short as Seungyeon's, but still revealing her full legs), a blue sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. She looks... well she looks stone-faced as normal, but you bet she's super angry, based on the tone of her voice.

"Beannie, it's all good, okay?" Seungyeon sounds annoyed. She stands up, a wet plop nearly echoing as she comes off your dick. She faces away from you. If you weren't terrified, you would be admiring the bottom view of her bare ass and pussy dripping with your cum. Actually, you just came inside her. You're suddenly even more terrified, thinking about the entertainment company lawyers that are about to sue you into oblivion.

There's a dead silence for a solid ten seconds as the leader and the maknae stare each other down. You barely have the self consciousness to cover your dick with your hands.

"Don't you want to try him out?"

You stare up at Seungyeon's back. Could she make this situation worse? Don't mock the witness!

Eunbin's deadpan glare lowers down and locks with your eyes. ShiiiiIIIIT. Her look goes a little further down, right at your hands. And she licKS HER LIPS, WHAT?

"I'm busy, ass whore. Besides, the bitch is waiting with her cunt wide open," she swears evenly, like she's discussing the mild weather. You would question what she's saying if you weren't so confused, and still light headed.

Seungyeon groans, this time with annoyance rather than with pleasure like earlier. She turns around and bends over to grab your arms and starts pulling. You have to assume she wants you to stand, so you try, but it's awkward, trying to stand without revealing your mostly softened cock. Once you're up, she yanks on your hands, flashing Eunbin. Yet, she only looks for half a second, then turns and walks through a doorway. The same one Seungyeon starts dragging you toward, all the while with your cum slowly dripping out of her onto the floor.

What the fuck is happening here?

And who's the "bitch" Eunbin is talking about?!

Options: 1. Seunghee 2. Yujin 3. Sorn 4. (Picked:) Yeeun 5. Elkie

~~~~~

As you make your way through the door, dragged by Seungyeon, Eunbin is nowhere to be seen, but there is definitely another person. You're not sure you recognize her though.

She's tied down with some soft looking rope to a cushioned table. And the ropes are all she's wearing, with the exception of a blindfold. The ropes are holding her down and holding her legs wide open, but her arms are completely free. Doesn't seem like effective bonda--

The door slams shut behind you, making you just about jump out of your skin. Eunbin was hiding behind it! She has on exactly the same expression as before, too. She must be determined to creep you the hell out.

Before you can do or say anything about that, Seungyeon grabs your chin and turns you to look at the tied up girl on the table again. "See there? That's Yeeun. She's been a very good girl until today. She's only had sex a couple times before, but last month she told us that she wants to be a little slut, so that's why you're here."

You see Yeeun biting her lower lip. Seungyeon reaches down and starts stroking your dick back to life.

"You can fuck her any way you want to, as long as it's hard, and as long as you can do it for a really, really long time. And if you can do that..."

Seungyeon drops to her knees and takes your mostly hard dick in her mouth, diving all the way to the base and quickly sucking off whatever was left from the first round. She pops back off and licks it from the bottom to the top.

"If you do that for her, I'll definitely be calling you back."

You look back and forth from the leader of CLC below you and the rapper in front of you. Should you really? This seems crazy.

"What will it be? You can take her sweet pussy all the way to the moon and back, but she's not on the same prodigious birth control I am,"

You mentally breathe a sigh of relief at that, but also wonder what the hell qualifies a birth control as "prodigious."

"If you're afraid of putting a baby in her though, we already pre-lubed her pretty little ass. It hasn't been used before, but you should glide righ-"

DEAR LORD, Eunbin's ever-expressionless face appears right in front of yours, out of nowhere, "Or you can face fuck her. I've been dildoing this stupid thot's dumb mouth for days to get her ready for your fatass penis, if you have the balls," she says, nearly monotone. You're seriously confused by her rude behavior here and suspect she might be hiding a torture room somewhere in this building.

From the table, you hear Yeeun. You may not be at a good angle to see her, but it's definitely her. You'd recognize that sweet, meek voice anywhere, "I'm ready... please fuck me?"

Holy damn. This is really happening isn't it?

Options: 1. (Picked:) Take that risk! Pussy time! 2. Well, if her ass is already lubed... 3. Don't risk Eunbin crushing your skull. Throat fuck Yeeun. 4. Why is titfucking still not an option?! Lol, jk, we all love her boobs, but she's not big enough for that. 5. Run the fuck away! These bitches are actually insane!

~~~~~

You take a deep breath. This is just plain insanity that you are witnessing before your eyes.

Insanity is contagious, apparently.

You step around Seungyeon, and stand over Yeeun. She's at just the right height, and your dick rests on her pelvis, between her legs. You hear a short gasp of excitement from her... and two more behind you, which is definitely still weird.

You back up a few inches, bend your knees just a bit, and move forward again. Yeeun is a bit small, so it takes some pushing, but you can see the anticipation building on her face (what isn't covered by the blindfold). With a thrust, you're in.

Yeeun sighs and a smile crosses her face. Seems you made a good choice. She's going to like this.

"Woohoo! Now make her a slut!"

Again, you nearly forgot about your audience. Seungyeon moves to stand right next to you, one hand on Yeeun's inner thigh and the other one squeezing your ass cheek. Yay, fun...

For hours, you pound Yeeun into the table. Seungyeon stays with you the whole time, climbing on top of Yeeun, sliding herself all over you, and licking... pretty much everywhere.

A couple of times you have to change things up, untying Yeeun and flipping her onto her stomach, re-angling her so you can hold yourself up mostly by your arms, and eventually scooting her to where her head hangs off the table while you kneel over her.

You cum at least four times, but it's hard to be sure, since you think you went basically numb after the first three hours.

Yeeun seems to have lost her mind around that same time. Her blindfold fell off at some point while you were fucking her from behind and now you can see that her eyes have become unfocused. Every time you pull out to adjust after the second hour, she whined and tried to get you back in. But anything coming out of her mouth eventually turned into needy moans.

You kind of wonder to yourself how realistic it is to have lasted so long, for Yeeun to have actually gone half comatose, or for this process to have "turned her into a slut," but hey, it was bliss for you.

Seungyeon gets on her knees between you and cleans off your exhausted cock (and the area around it) with her tongue. It's a little sore actually, but you're not about to complain.

She stands back up and wraps her arms under yours, pulling you in. "I think you were successful, baby. Yeeun is going to want so much more from now on. Let's hope the baby you definitely put in her doesn't slow her down."

Oh. Right.

"So, what's next? Want any kind of... reward before you go?"

With her hips slowly rubbing side to side against yours, it's pretty obvious what she means, but hey, she asked, so...

Options: 1. (Picked:) You're drained, but you'll try for Seungyeon! Even if it results in embarrassment! 2. You want more, but you don't think you can get it up anymore. Be smooth and give her your contact info. 3. Uh, yeah. The call you got said you were going to get paid money for this. That's a reward. 4. Maybe just something to drink? You're fucking exhausted! (Warning, this option is mad kink territory.)

~~~~~

With your cock just about ready to fall off, you aren't sure how well this will work, but you're willing to try for Seungyeon. You grab her by the hips. A smirk crosses her face, and she doubles down on grinding against you.

You lift her chin up for a kiss. It's your turn to take charge with her now. She coos into your mouth. Her fingernails lightly scrape either side of your spine, sending tingles all up and down your body. Her entire behavior just changed! Sheesh, and all you had to do was take the initiative in grabbing her? This girl changes her mind as fast as she takes her clothes off.

The sweetness continues for the better part of ten minutes. You could swear the room's temperature is evening back out, from the sun-like heat earlier to being very pleasantly warm.

Seungyeon slowly breaks away from the kiss, looking into your eyes with less intensity and more... care. She leans her head back, and you take the hint, diving in and sucking carefully at her neck. Her silent shuddering is only interrupted by a moan coming from behind you.

You can guess what it is, but curiosity gets you to turn enough to look. And of course, it's Eunbin. She's still staring, which is still creepy. But she's also got both hands moving inside her shorts. She's probably been there all along, so you guess she can stay and keep watching. You doubt she'd leave even if you asked...

Trying not to think too much about your audience, you get back to work on Seungyeon, kissing her tanned skin from her chin, to her chest, to her toned as hell stomach, to her clit. Once there, her knees shake, so you decide to set her down somewhere she won't fall. It's time to pay her back for all the oral service she's been giving you!

Seungyeon backs up at your touch, until she leans back against the table in the middle of the room, and onto Yeeun's half conscious body. The skinny girl groans as she's suddenly used as a back rest, but Seungyeon doesn't seem to have any interest in fixing the problem.

This is your moment. You're going to make Seungyeon squirm on top of her rapper. You'll make her explode! You start leaning down, tongue halfway hanging out of your mouth...

"Damn, you're still not hard?"

She's holding you back by the forehead, looking between your bodies down at your lifeless dick.

"W-well, yeah, I mean, I just..." you gesture down at Yeeun. That's where your hardness went, and it's still dripping out of her at a moderate pace!

Eunbin's hands are on your shoulders, pulling you away from Seungyeon. It's a bit of a shock, to say the least.

"I'll call you later! Buh-bye!"

The next thirty seconds are a blur. You're dragged, stunned, out of the room, through to the opposite end of the hallway you came in from, and shoved out a door into an alley.

"See ya, fuckface," is the last thing you hear from Eunbin before the door slams behind you.

What the hell...

The door reopens, and you spin around just in time to get a face full of your pants.

"Don't forget your stupid clothes, you degenerate," Eunbin throws you one last insult before the door closes again.

It's a little chilly out here.

[GAME OVER]

#clc smut #kpop smut #seungyeon #yeeun #eunbin #male reader insert

116 notes · View notes

lordoftherazzles · 3 years

Note

Maybe a fic prompt (if you wanna do it)? I was looking at one of your gifs (they're stunning btw) and I was thinking of something like Bilbo admiring the view and saying "This is stunning" and Thorin agreeing but while gazing at the hobbit? This is kinda cliché but I feel it would be very cute. Also your writing is superior, I love it ( ꈍᴗꈍ)ﾉ✿

Ahhh!!! I love this prompt so much @nerdymeatball13 , and I'm sorry it took me a hot second to finish, lots of things piled on me at once but here we are!!

prompt "This is stunning"

word count 1789

relationship(s) thorin oakenshield/bilbo baggins

character(s) thorin oakenshield, bilbo baggins

warnings none

additional notes they're so schmoopy and I love them

-----

The worst was over. The Battle of the Five Armies had been something to both mourn and celebrate. Many lives had been lost, but the good that came from that outweighed the bad. A close scare came with the Line of Durin, but by some miracle or nothing short of divine intervention by Mahal himself, Thorin, Fili, and Kili all managed to pull through. It was a blessing that no one took for granted, especially the victims themselves.

Thankfully, that was several weeks ago. It was still tough for Thorin to be on his feet, but with enough stubborn resistance, he had managed to ward off most of those constantly fussing over his bandaging and stitches. Oin never let him out of bed for more than an hour at a time, but it was more freedom than Thorin had felt ever since he’d been carted back into the mountain with nearly half of his insides trying to spill outside.

This was one of those particular hours that he was allowed to be up and wandering around. He’d set aside all paperwork and kingly duties for the sake of a simple walk in hopes that it might clear his mind. Between recovery and trying to do as much as possible to help in Erebor’s reconstruction both literally and as a power, Thorin felt bogged down. There was little time for much else, and his mind had been growing more and more muddled as the weeks went on. A mind that was constantly in worry of what the spring months might bring as they were growing nearer and nearer.

Bilbo had opted to stay considering the winter months had settled in, which was a smart move versus trying to brave any snowstorm, but it was still up in the air if the hobbit had truly planned to head back west towards his cozy little smial, or if...by chance maybe he wanted to make Erebor his new home. It wasn’t something Thorin brought up. Yes, they had made amends, even more than that, with sweet somethings having been uttered occasionally back and forth, but it wasn’t the picture perfect romance that Thorin had been dreaming about lately.

Love was nice and all, and even better when it wasn’t one-sided, but to remain unknowing as to where it might lead? That was a nightmare in itself. It was a lot for Thorin to think about, and while he didn’t want to pressure Bilbo and flat out ask if he intended to stay or go, it was starting to eat away at the dwarf little by little. It’s what this walk was to help him with. To clear his head and hopefully return to his sickbed with a mind for papers and numbers.

What had led him towards one of the worst places in all of Erebor during this calm walk of his? The ramparts were a miserable place, but it gave you a good view of the stretch of land between Erebor and Dale, and not even Thorin could ignore what a sight it was. Snow covered and untouched, it was hard to imagine the brown and red blood stains that laid beneath it from a war not too long ago.

What he hadn’t expected was for someone else to already be out here and staring just as he wanted to. A head of dark golden curls that Thorin had been trying to clear from his own headspace.

“Bilbo,” The dwarf greeted casually, gaining a small glance from the hobbit as they stood side by side with at least a small gap between them.

“Good morning, Thorin. How are you feeling?” Bilbo was polite as ever as if nothing had changed, and while they were on good terms, didn’t this place...bother the hobbit? At all?

“I’m feeling alright,” No one wanted to listen to Thorin complain about how sore he might be or if he had a bad sleep last night, so he left it at that. Besides, the less whining he did, the sooner Oin would get off his back.

“That’s good. Every day is a little bit better, it seems.”

“Indeed,” It was an awkward conversation all over again. Thorin folded his arms behind his back and just let his eyes drift towards the snow covered land before them. A bit of that snow had collected on the ledges of Erebor’s structure, he could only imagine how lovely it might look from a different angle. “You looked to be deep in thought, is something on your mind?”

Bilbo finally pulled all of his attention away from the scenery and offered Thorin a small wave of his hand. “Oh, just thinking about the Shire. We get snow there too and it’s nice, but...there’s just something about this that’s different.”

Thorin’s heart could have sunk right into the ground right then and there. Bilbo was longing for home, wasn’t he? Those rolling green hills, even in the middle of winter, had to be far better than an ice cold mountain that was barely able to be called a kingdom. Finally deciding to toe the line of truths regarding Bilbo’s intentions, Thorin kept his eyes forward. “I’m sure you’ll be ready for the snow to clear sooner rather than later. It makes for bad travel weather…”

“Hm, it does, but I’m not exactly eager to go anywhere so quickly. You’re just getting back on your feet. Oin can’t handle barking at you to sit still all on his own now, can he?” Bilbo teased, seeming to be in higher spirits than Thorin ever would be on these ramparts, and with the idea of Bilbo’s departure looming in his head.

A small breath of amusement did escape Thorin though, finally removing his hands from behind his back and placing it on the stone before him. “I think I can manage to sit still, but your constant reminders have helped these past few weeks.” His fingers twitched, tapping against the stone in anxiousness that wasn’t overly normal. Considering everything that Thorin had been through though, he supposed he was allowed a little bit of shaky behavior and anxiousness.

“Something’s troubling you,” Bilbo observed. It wasn’t a question, but a fact that was being pointed out far too easily. “What is it?” Placing both hands around one of Thorin’s arms, Bilbo honestly couldn’t get enough of these small gestures of physical contact, even if he was a tad anxious himself when it came to initiating them.

Regardless of the comforting touch around his elbow, Thorin wasn’t sure it did anything to soothe his poor frayed nerves. Those nerves were exposed as soon as Bilbo was able to peg that something was bothering him and the words just started tumbling out. “How can you stand to be here?” Specifically, right in this very spot. “After what happened, how can you stand here and…”

Throw him from the ramparts!

How could Bilbo be here? How could he have forgiven Thorin for the wrongs he had done and a life that had been threatened? How could Bilbo not be whining and clawing at the first opportunity to head back to the safety of the Shire? These were the things that had been bothering Thorin, and being in this exact spot did not help.

“Thorin, you need to stop letting one small incident eat away at you. I’ve forgiven you for all of that, you weren’t yourself…”

��That’s no excuse. I laid a hand on you. You might be able to forgive me by some miracle, but I can’t forgive myself for that day...and now, knowing that you’ll be leaving-”

“Leaving? Who said anything about leaving?” Bilbo huffed, still clutching at Thorin’s elbow with both hands and giving his head a firm shake of annoyance as if he were dealing with a child. “You truly are a dolt sometimes. Handsome, brave and foolhardy to boot, but downright stupid when it counts.”

Thorin wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or annoyed at the backhanded compliments flying his way.

“You’re going to have to learn to forgive yourself because honestly, I’m not going to come up here and have you mope every single time all because you got a little angry and said some things and...that was it. That’s all you did,” When Bilbo put it that way, it sounded far less severe than Thorin thought it was. “And as for leaving? That was...something I wanted to ask you. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, but I do want to stay. Sure, I’ll miss my garden and some other aspects of the Shire but...home isn’t a place, Thorin.” Bilbo slid his hands away from Thorin’s elbow, his fingers lacing with a hand of the dwarf’s and giving it a small squeeze. “You’re my home, and that’s where I want to be if you’ll allow it.”

Thorin stood dumbly, looking towards their linked hands before letting his fingers flex tightly to grip back at Bilbo’s. “Of course…” Having Bilbo stay was all he ever wanted.

“Good, and don’t you worry, we’ll make some better memories here, I’m sure.” Leaning against Thorin’s side with hands still tightly wound together, Bilbo just exhaled a deep sigh as if a great weight had been lifted off of his chest. The same could be said for Thorin.

A ray of light seemed to break through the thick of the gray clouds overhead, illuminating a bit of that freshly fallen snow that laid across the stretch of land as far as the eye could see. It sparkled like a sea of diamonds, and Bilbo couldn’t help the small gasp of wonder that crossed his face. He had seen snow in the sunlight before, but seeing it from way up here? To see so far and wide covered in little glistening crystals? “This is stunning,” He breathed, not paying Thorin much mind who had just been staring at Bilbo since that small gasp escaped his lips.

“Very stunning, indeed.” That look of wonder that Bilbo wore was bright and appealing. More desirable than a treasure hall of gold or a vein of mithril.

Bilbo’s gaze flickered once quickly to start, if only because he wanted to follow Thorin’s gaze to see what the dwarf was looking at as well to deem as stunning, but after a quick double take, Bilbo was blushing fiercely. “You truly are a sappy old thing, you know that?”

“I do.” Pressing a kiss to those dark golden curls, Thorin truly had to believe in what Bilbo had said before. They would make better memories atop these ramparts, and already that seemed to be a reality in the making, but most importantly, he was here to stay.

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #bilbo baggins #bagginshield #thilbo #hobbit fanfic #hobbit fic #bagginshield fic #razzywrites #razquests #thank you for the request!

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

Loving You Is A Losing Game - Chapter 1 || Javier Peña x F! Reader

Gif by: @norcula

Summary: Javier Peña is a lot of things. He would even admit he’s a liar, easily. But how far is he willing to go in this latest deceit, if it means taking down Escobar? Will he lose what he’s been so desperately searching for his life?

Warnings: Angst, angst, aaannnngst, (‘not so much in this chapter but overall) lies, swearing, drug references, murder references (it’s the Narcos world people), mentions of prostitutes(not derogatory)

AN: Thank you @damntonystarkandhissmile for the request, I loved it as you know, and had to turn it into a mini series 😌My first Javi fic 👀 Sorry for any mistakes, I wrote this on my phone and it’s super late, but I wanted to get it out to you. I’ll fix it up in the morning 🥰

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Chapter 1 || Chapter 2

Many kids would tell you that their parents don’t like them.

That they don’t get on. They’re mean. Weird.

Usually, it’s because their parents won’t let them go out and get drunk, or that they won’t buy them that really expensive sweater that they’ll just lose or rip.

You were one of those kids.

Except in your case… Your father really didn’t get on with you. Or love you.

Hell, you weren’t sure if he even liked you.

And that was the truth. It was fact.

Not because he didn’t give you what you wanted but because that was the way it’d always been.

Even through childhood, you knew he didn’t care for you more than he felt he had to.

You didn’t shout at each other, you just… simply didn’t get on. There was no love there, at all.

And again, it really wasn’t because he wouldn’t buy you something, or he tried to tell you who to date.

No, it was because he worked for Pablo fucking Escobar.

The biggest drug kingpin in Medellin.

Your father was one of Escobar’s closest men, not quite a sicario, but certainly more than a lackey.

He knew all the comings and goings of the drugs, knew who was who and who was trusted - or not.

He was in Escobar’s inner circle, and he was proud of that.

Didn’t care about the drugs that ruined people’s lives, the workers dying to make their precious cocaine - or the murders that the kingpin’s men so willingly committed.

One might think it odd that a man like that had a child, but it hadn’t exactly been his choice.

The little information you had gleaned had informed you that your mother was a prostitute, a girl working in one of the many pleasure houses in Medellin in order to make her money. And to find safety, because even though those houses were full of men with dark intentions for women… It was a home. A sanctuary compared to what she’d previously lived in. Or rather, escaped from.

But things between them were based on lies anyway.

He never told your mother what he was, who he had devoted his life to.

And so, when you were born and your mother regrettably couldn’t care for you anymore, she dropped you at your fathers’ doorstep.

It broke her heart to lose you, but she truly beloved it was the safest place. She’d tried everything she could to keep her beloved daughter close but... After one too many close calls, she couldn’t risk your life anymore.

And she thought your father would be the true sanctuary she never got to have.

How wrong she was.

Your father took you in, albeit reluctantly. Maybe there was a scrap of decency in him after all.

Or maybe he just thought you’d be useful.

As you grew up, you always knew he wasn’t… ‘good’.

Whether it was the late hours working; the shady visitors or the room you were forbidden to go in that smelt funny - it was with an instinct far beyond your age that you knew a relationship with him was a lost cause.

And that was okay.

You kept your head down, studied hard at the school he dumped you in and… You flourished, to be honest.

Excelled at your classes, settled into your own personality and made a handful of really good friends.

It was as if you saw everything your father was, the sick darkness, the corruption, the disgusting loyalty to a monster like Escobar… and you simple decided to be the opposite.

You were kindhearted, loyal to the end and the most helpful person anyone around you knew.

No matter the time or place, you were always there for someone. Whatever they needed, you would be right there waiting with open arms and whatever they required.

You wanted to put sunshine into the world, spread happiness and joy as if you could erase the stain from the dark men who tried to ruin it.

Sometimes, this kindness and rose-tinted look on the world did get you… not so much into trouble, but it opened you up to pain.

Some people tended to take advantage of your warm heart, using it their own ill wishes to get what they wanted.

It wasn’t your fault, you just always believed in the best of people (aside from Escobar, your father and the others of course) and assumed that those asking you for help were genuine.

There wasn’t a bad bone in your body, and whilst people respected and adored that about you… There will still those you were learning to be wary of. But you believed the world had good in it, you just had to find it. A fight you would gladly take up.

Of course, somewhere like Medellin was a battle in itself.

In fact, all of Columbia was a battle.

You could have moved out, moved on and forgotten all about it, but something kept you here, drawn to this place.

It was dark, gritty and sometimes people wound up dead only a few blocks down from your home but despite that, this was still a beautiful place.

With the lush green growth, the ever-burning sunshine and the flurry of people coming in and out… It was beautiful.

Everything was here for you.

Family, friends…

And Javi.

Ah, Javier Peña. Your boyfriend.

Even now, you got a thrill from saying that.

A DEA agent with all the tolerance and frustration of a wet cat. He was snarky and sarcastic, with what seemed like a permanent scowl etched onto his ruggedly handsome face.

He had a bitter way of looking at the world sometimes, but he was hell-bent on fixing it. Much like you.

He was amazing at his job, forever going above and beyond to rid Columbia of its weeds and poison.

At first glance, he was your complete opposite.

And he was, in a way.

But you always said you were two sides of the same coin.

You were his light, and he was the storm that weathered your brightness before you burnt out.

You had met by accident really.

You and your friends had decided to go out for the night, to your favourite bar further in town.

The drinks flowed easily, the music was constantly beating and the atmosphere always perfect.

The staff got on well with your group, and more often than not, you were passed free drinks and food from them.

You were at the bar that night, when the door had opened and in walked two men.

Ordinarily, you would have done a quick glance over, and then gone back to your conversation.

But this time was different.

The man you saw first was tall, sandy blonde hair and an easy expression on his face.

The other man behind him however… You couldn’t look away.

Messy brown hair that appeared to have been styled previously but now fell over his forehead in tumbling loose curls - perhaps from running his hands through it in frustration?

Impossibly rich brown eyes that you could see even from here, darker than his hair, darker than the liquid in the glass he ordered from the bar and deeper than your favourite chocolate cake.

He walked with that predatory grace that showed he knew where he was and who was around him at all times.

This was man that knew what he wanted and wasn’t afraid to take it.

But not in the same way as your father… No, this man… He was different.

And you were intrigued.

You turned back to your friends, waiting for a break in the conversation respectfully before chiming in, “Hey, who are those two guys that just walked in? I’ve never seen them in here before.”

One of your friends, Serena - a girl with flowing inky hair and caramel-coloured skin - looked over at the men and a wicked smile crossed her lips, “Oh, you mean those two? That’s Steve and Javier.” She nodded her head first to the blonde, and then the dark haired man. “They work for the DEA, they pulled us in for an investigation once.” She said this lower, because you never know who may be listening.

Your eyes widened, looking between the bar and your friend again sharply, disbelief colouring your tone, “They pulled you in? What did you do??” Blinking rapidly, you tried to imagine a situation in which your friends would be called in by the drugs authority.

Serena snorted, waving her hand dismissively, “Oh, c’mon, nothing like that. You always assume the worse.”

Saying nothing, you merely raised an eyebrow.

Your friends were the wild ones in the group.

You tended to be the one to make sure they were all okay, and everyone got home safe.

Even when you were drunk, you were still the carer.

And more often than not, it had been your quick thinking and easy smile that had gotten you all of out of some potentially sticky situations.

She looked at your expression with narrowed eyes, then conceded, “Fine. You’ve got me there.” She fiddled with the straw in her cocktail, condensation dripping down the side of the glass from the hot Colombian air. “We were in another bar, further away and it was known to occasionally host the odd… Unsavoury member or two.” She looked at you through her eyelashes, letting you know what she meant by ‘unsavoury.’

Instantly, your palms grew a little slick and your neck prickled. And it wasn’t from the heat.

Serena knew about your father. She was the only one who did, who you trusted enough to tell one night when you were flat out drunk, too intoxicated to care, and it had all come out. You had to tell someone, anyone.

But you always had this reaction when anyone talked about Escobar, drugs or his men.

No one else knew who your father was, but it didn’t mean that someone couldn’t work it out.

You had done your best to try and avoid any association, but with the scurrying rats spying in this city, who knows where the information would end up? Which authorities were already watching your every move, waiting to use you?

Serena was carrying on with her story, so you tuned back in, “They came in one day we weren’t there, looking for information and I guess someone had told the boys we were in there a lot. They took us to their headquarters and asked us if we knew anything or had seen something.”

Leaning forward, you sucked a deep mouthful of your own drink, but the ice had long since melted. It was more to give yourself a few moments to soothe your reaction, to calm your racing heart.

You looked back at her, swallowing the cool liquid, “And? Did you manage to help?”

Serena shrugged one shoulder, the strap of her dress slipping down, and she left it there, no doubt to draw the attention of the many men and women ogling her - She would have her pick of who. And if she didn’t want them, she’d leave them pining after her whilst she strutted from the room on those gorgeous legs, curves swaying and hair gleaming.

“I’m not sure. We told them what we could but… The guys that go there to do those sorts of shady things, they hide it well, obviously.”

A noncommittal noise left your throat and you looked over yet again, immediately drawn to the darker of the two.

Only to find him already watching you.

Those umber eyes were trained on you, pinning you to the seat and making you feel as though you were being stripped bare.

Like he could peer straight into your soul and see simply everything there.

His tongue darted out, chasing a drop of alcohol leftover on his lower lip and the movement set a deep fire in the pits of your belly, burning hotter than the Colombian heat.

A man with a tongue like that knew how to use it.

Oh my god, were you seriously lusting after a stranger, a DEA agent to be precise?

Heat danced along your neck and cheeks, making you curse under your breath.

The darker man, the man creeping through your soul was standing sideways at the bar, the stance causing his pale blue shirt to pull tight at the arms, setting a gorgeous contrast against his honey-tanned skin.

He didn’t take his eyes off you, lips murmuring as he spoke to his friend, who had his back to you.

His expression was unreadable, apart from a faintly intrigued twitch to his otherwise impenetrable demeanour. He had you trapped, heat crushing your skin as he still pinned you with that predatory gaze, like he couldn’t decide whether to chase you, leave you there or devour you whole.

Before the stare got any more intense, before you were sliding from your seat and gliding over to him, you were pulled back into your conversation.

Over the span of the next two hours, you felt his heavy gaze more than five times, felt it’s weight on your skin like a brand and it left you unsettled - but in a good way.

It been a long time since anyone had set a blaze within you, sent that feeling of butterflies soaring through your chest and belly.

It had been a long time since someone had undressed you with their eyes.

You had looked up at one point in a lull of conversation, only to find that they were gone. Just like that, vanished.

Disappointment had shot through you like a spear of cold ice, because for the last forty-five minutes, you had been working up the courage to… To do something.

Maybe a wink or… To hold his gaze for longer than five seconds.

Would you ever see them again?

It was likely if they were DEA, but he probably wouldn’t remember you. A man like that?

Absolutely not.

And you hadn’t seen him.

Not for a week.

Not until you were walking down the street one afternoon, lost in your own thoughts that were certainly not of agents with dark hair and even darker eyes.

And then suddenly, with all the cliché in the world, you had walked into something firm, warm and definitely human.

“Watch it, cariño.” A low, rough voice. Raspy yet somehow smooth, like it had honey poured over it. And the tone… Nothing biting or sharp in there at all.

It was… Something else, but definitely not vicious.

Already anticipating who it would be, your head snapped up, breath stilling in your throat.

There he was.

Standing taller than you, head cocked slightly and those dark, dark eyes watching you with thinly veiled curiosity… And a deeper gleam.

Again, like he was watching something he wanted to eat. Slowly.

You’d let him.

Your cheeks flushed just a little at that repeated unbidden thought and you swallowed, throat bobbing, “Sorry, I was distracted. Did I hurt you?”

He chuckled, and gods above, the sound was again like warm honey sliding over your bones, caressing you and making you dissolve, “Not at all. I just wouldn’t want you bumping into someone less forgiving - or friendly. You never know who you might meet on these streets.” He watched the movement of your throat, rubbing his forefinger and thumb over the moustache in a movement that was oddly enticing.

He flicked his eyes back up to yours, but not before gazing at your mouth with that peculiar fire, like a flame underwater.

Oh, you knew a lot of unfriendly people.

Tilting your head the other way to his, you smiled angelically at him, “Well, I’ll thank my lucky stars that I ran into someone just like you.”

He hummed softly, narrowing his eyes slightly at you in thought, “Do those stars allow me to take you for a drink? Or would that be… Inappropriate?”

Fuck, the way his deep baritone purred over the last word… It was as if he was running his tongue along your hot skin, tasting you.

Heat coiling low in your belly, you threw your eyes up to the sky in mock thought, as if listening and then dropped them back to those umber pools, “I think I can manage. I don’t even know your name though.”

A faint grin tugged his lips, “Javier Peña.” He held out a large, tanned hand.

The name whispered through you like a siren call as you told him your own name, sliding your hand into his.

Javier repeated it, making it sound like a caress as his hand enclosed yours.

A shudder ran through you, bringing forth even more images that weren’t appropriate for such a first meeting. “Lead the way, Javier. I warn you though, make one wrong move and I’ll throw you to the wolves.” You mimicked his previous purr, knowing it was at odds with your appearance.

Javier looked back at you, something appreciative and glittering in his eyes as he laughed again, “Oh, I don’t doubt it, cariño.”

And that was that.

You had gone back to a local bar for drinks, losing yourself in the time and the rough, yet velvety personality of this man.

He didn’t really say much about himself, but he had a way of asking you things no one ever really had before. Asking you things that you’d never thought about.

Like what would you be doing if things were different?

What’s a dream you had in childhood there no one else knows?

If you could take on the life of a book character, who would it be, and why?

He was wholly different to anyone you’d had before, and you wanted to learn everything about him.

You had spent so long on the topic of you, and know you wanted to learn about him.

Even though he skirted around a few questions, you lapped the information up and stored it.

He did tell you about why he stayed in Columbia, why he chose to be in the DEA - but you still didn’t glean much.

That was okay though because what he didn’t say, he made up for in the looks he gave you.

The slight smile that tilted up the corners of his lips, made his eyes twinkle and his entire face light from within.

The intense, burning gaze, head cocked to the side and two fingers rubbing along the edge of his moustache again - his large hand capturing your attention for longer than you’d care to admit.

And then that had been history.

A few more ‘dates’, a few more slow starts and working out of boundaries and… then he was your boyfriend.

Your friends had warned you when you told them.

Warned that he had a darkness, the same as all the agents had working in a corrupt country.

And they also warned you that… He had a bit of a history with the same types of girls your mother had been.

Had an affinity for them, using them for information and getting them out of the country - and not without a heavy, fast fling too.

But… you didn’t care. You saw the broken man within, saw the determined agent wanting to make his country whole and free of the rot.

And to be honest, you didn’t see much of the supposed womaniser he was. Not that you didn’t believe them - but he was (perhaps uncharacteristically) soft with you, warm.

He was a good man, working through his troubles and finding solace in you.

For once, something good and strong had come into your life, and nothing could take it from you.

Right?

~~~

Javier Peña was going to go to Hell.

Not that he didn’t know this already, but with what he was up to lately… He almost certainly had a first-class ticket and express boarding now.

That thought had been going round and round his head for the past couple of weeks.

Lately, it had been getting to him.

He couldn’t really say why either, it just did.

Any time, any moment of the day.

Even now, as he tidied up after the dinner you’d cooked together.

It was killing him.

The lies turned to ash in his mouth, leaving behind an acrid taste of shame.

The sweet smiles you shot him were like daggers to the heart and the soft, twinkling laugh only he could bring from you sounding like a taunt.

“Liar, liar, liar, liar.” It would hiss, following him from the room.

He tried to tell himself he was simply doing a job, doing what he was asked but he was lying to himself then.

He’s done plenty of things that anyone would be ashamed of, all in the name of trying to do good. And of course, they made him feel bad, but… Not like this.

Not this sickening twist of his gut, or the guilt that lay heavy and stopped him from sleeping - even more than usual, that is.

He’d started drinking and smoking more too, burning through his alcohol and cigarettes at a pace you of course picked up on.

When you asked him, concern and worry in those enchanting eyes, he’d merely shrugged it off to stress of the job.

It wasn’t exactly an untruth but damn, it felt like one.

Especially when you cupped his cheek with such tender care, kissing him softly and coaxing him to bed - where you showed him just how skilled you were at relaxing him, taking his mind off ‘work.’

Fuck express boarding. He was getting a personal escort to the pits beyond.

A shrill ringing caught his attention, breaking him from his spiralling thoughts and he turned around, momentarily confused.

The phone.

It was ringing.

He should answer that.

Javi stared at it, then went over and answered like a normal person, “Hello?”

A slightly grumpy, slightly suspicious normal person, but hey. Points for trying.

“Hey, Javi.” It was Steve. “Sorry for the late call,”

Lately, there were no ‘out of hours’.

Some days, the boys wondered if they would be better off just living at the office.

He was already itching for a cigarette.

Javier eyed the packet of cigarettes on the counter, “Nah, it’s alright. What’s up?”

A sigh came through the slight static of the line, “Look man, I know you can’t rush it but… Have you got anything from her yet? Anything at all we can use? Carrillo and the others aren’t gonna give us much longer and we need to nail these fuckers.”

Ah, there it was.

The call back to reality.

Javi’s eyes moved from the cigarettes to the bottle of bourbon he’d abandoned earlier on, “No, nothing yet. No more than what I told you the other day… I can’t push it too much. It’ll bet too obvious.”

Leather creaked and Javi knew Steve would be leaning back on his couch, rubbing his forehead. already smoking.

“I thought as much. She’s the best lead we have, you can’t fuck it up.” He sighed again, more of a groan, “I just wish we could storm right in there and haul them all in.”

Javier was already stalking across the kitchen, snatching up the alcohol and decanting it into a glass before Steve had finished his sentence, “Yeah, I know, I’m with you. Boss says we need something concrete to go on. Which is bull. I’m working as hard as I can, but she’ll get suspicious otherwise. It’s a sore subject.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Let me know if you find anything, okay? Maybe use some of that charm on her. I know it can’t be your happy attitude that gets all those women to fall into bed tell you their darkest secrets.” Steve snickered, a smirk evident in his voice.

Javi bared his teeth at his glass, “Fuck off. You’re just jealous you actually have to work for it.”

He hung up, cutting off Steve’s retort before he even got two words out.

The thought of seducing you into bed to get information… No.

They were getting impatient.

There was only so much he could do to hold them off. He needed to get his head straight.

He needed to figure out what to do.

He needed -

“Hey, everything okay?”

He needed you not to be standing there.

How much had you heard?

Had you been there the whole time?

Fuck, he hadn’t even heard your footsteps come back from the bathroom.

You weren’t looking at him, so you didn’t see the brief flash in his eyes, the chink in the demeanour as he struggled for a believable answer, “Oh, yeah, bebé. It was just Steve. They’re struggling to get citizenship for Olivia in America in case they go home so I said I’d ask someone I know about it.”

Not entirely a lie. Just… not the truth either.

Steve was struggling, and Javi was looking into it.

That’s just not what the phone call was about.

But he could hardly tell you that.

Because then they’d lose the only lead they had.

“That sucks... If they need help, I can ask the girls? See if they know anyone?” You pulled a thoughtful face as you leant against the side, “You’ll probably have more luck than me, but I know Luciana had a similar problem with her son…” You swirled your drink around your glass thoughtfully, working how to solve this next problem.

Javi swallowed, rubbing his eyes as he ran the water to wash up the dishes.

Maybe this would have been easier if you were… less caring. Less good.

“Yeah sure, cariño. They’d appreciate any help they can get at the minute.”

The opportunity was there, might as well go for it.

“Steve is really stressed at the minute. Trying to juggle the shit with Olivia, keeping his marriage floating and then the dead ends we keep hitting with Escobar.” He huffed, shaking his head and turning the water off, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he yells at Carrillo in the next day or so.”

Javi felt you looked over at the back of his head, practically hearing your face of concern, “It’s that bad again? You’re really getting nowhere?”

He knew that hated to hear when your boys were stressed out. Javi was pretty much sleepless most nights, but there was just you with him.

For Steve to be juggling a marriage, a baby and his job all at the same time, in a city that still didn’t fully welcome ‘gringos’. It killed you. You had said many times before how your heart went out to him. How you wished you could help.

You already are, baby.

He nodded, concentrating on the water. It was easier this way. “Mmhm… We just keep hitting dead end after dead end. People are losing their lives and Escobar and his band of freaks are spreading like poison.” The bitterness in his words wasn’t made up.

He hated the man.

Hated him and his band of psychos and everything they did and stood for.

The day they were all behind bars - or six feet under - would be the day he would finally rest properly.

Even if he had no idea what he would do with his life when he was free of Escobar.

Although, on reflection, the job would never be done. There were still more cartels and drug lords to take down.

You were still talking behind him, the worry and frustration clear in your voice as he turned the water off, “I just… I wish there was some way I could help. It kills me to see you all so stressed like this. It’s not fair.”

Javi swallowed, his throat working as he shook his head dismissively, abandoning the dishes and coming over to you instead, “Nah, don’t worry about it, baby. It’s no different to what normally happens. Usually, he just yells at me for not telling him something or for smoking too much, he had an argument with our superiors and then he’s fine.”

He leant against the counter, stretching his legs out and reaching forward to gently pull you into the space between his legs.

“Don’t worry about it, really.” He kissed your cheek tenderly before placing a cigarette between his lips. “How was your day?”

He threw his lighter back on the side after igniting the end, breathing in a lungful of the poisonously addictive smoke.

You slid your arms around his shoulders, curving into his body and you tilted your head back as you groaned at the ceiling, “Long. I had some mail still going to my father’s house, so I had to go and pick it up.”

Javi heard the way the words, ‘my father’ twisted in your mouth, your lips curling slightly in disgust as you call the man the words he wouldn’t ever deserve.

Anger seared through him, like the smoke he heaved into his lungs every day.

Another man that deserved a fate in the dark.

“How was it? Did he say anything to you?”

He stroked down the side of your face, trailing his fingers down your neck and he slid his hand across the back, cradling your head.

Your eyelashes fluttered as he cupped your head, taking the weight for you, “He was prattling on about some meeting. Mumbling that he could tell this person and that person, find something out.” You huffed, “I didn’t really listen.”

Javier’s interest peaked, and he hoped you wouldn’t feel the sudden thump his heart had taken. “A meeting? Did he say what the meeting was about?” He kept his voice soft, even.

Made sure the lungful of smoke curled from his lips in a smooth motion, rather than a jagged breath.

You shook your head no, eyes closing again, and you rested your forehead against his jaw, “Nope. Even if he did, it was all just white noise.”

Damn.

Disappointment spread thick through his veins.

Yet with it, came relief.

Because if you had no new information… He wouldn’t have to call it in.

Javier pressed little butterfly kisses to your hairline, rubbing his fingers into the back of your neck, “You don’t have to see him again for a while now, baby. Don’t think of him… don’t give him that satisfaction.” He murmured the words, rubbing your lower back and keeping you arched against his body.

He liked this.

No, he adored this.

The way you turned utterly boneless in his touch and sank against his body like it was your haven.

A non-committal noise left your throat, and you merely snuggled closer, your fingers pushing into the hair at the back of his head just the way he liked.

Goosebumps danced down his spine, warming his bones and he let his eyes close.

He’d still have to go to work tomorrow.

Be called into the office and asked again if he’d found anything out.

If you had given up your father.

How much more time Javier needed.

He would deal with the guilt, the shame, the anger that they were making him do this - and the disgust at himself for actually doing it.

But for now… He could stand here in the kitchen with you, the crappy tv in the background with your head against his jaw and the scent of your shampoo wafting around him.

For now, he could just pretend.

#request #Javier Peña x reader #Javier peña fan fic #Javier Peña #narcos #narcos imagine #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal imagine #Loving You Is A Losing Game series

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firstofficerwiggles · 3 years

Text

Chapter 3: Lust, Actually

Links to: Chpt. 1, Chpt. 2 Chpt. 4

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Jealous!Din, swearing, sexual arousal, mixed signals

Word Count: ~6300

Summary: Din starts to be more aware of his attraction and maybe feelings for you. Also, he takes you and the child to a lake for a few days of relaxation.

Author’s Note: This chapter is from Din’s perspective. Just to clarify my writing in general, when I use Din it means it’s his thoughts, but when I use Mando, it’s your thoughts. Also, I hope you like Din being a bit of an exhibitionist here, because I think, given the chance, he’d enjoy showing off for you.

“Welcome back, Mando!” Din feels his heartbeat skip at your cheerful greeting. You always seem so happy to see him when he returns, giving him that wide smile, your eyes lighting up. You’re holding the child and you come over to him, saying “Somebody missed you while you were gone!”

Din knows you mean the kid, but he’d like to know that you missed him too, even though he knows he shouldn’t be thinking like that. He doesn’t want to admit to himself how much he’s been looking forward to seeing your pretty face again. He pushes his thoughts about you aside as you hand him the little one and he focuses his attention on greeting his foundling instead. “Did you have a good time here in Cloud City, buddy?”

“I’d say he had a great time,” you reply, “He loved playing in the big indoor park with all of the other children.” You and the child have been staying in Cloud City for about a week, while Din tracked down a bounty. It had been a particularly tricky job, but at least it was well paying, which meant he was looking forward to being able to take a break for a few days. He tickles the child under his chin getting him to giggle. Maybe he’ll take you all to Crucival, he remembers it has some pretty grasslands that you’ll both probably enjoy. Should be nice, give everyone a chance for some fresh air.

“I have all our things ready to go, but we just need to stop in at the café a few doors down to collect our dinner and say goodbye.” You tell Din, gesturing to your small pile of bags.

“Say goodbye to who?” He asks.

“Riva, the owner of the café,” you explain, “The green bean here just loves the meat pies from there. We’ve been there every day. I ordered a few to take with us.”

Din nods in response and hands the child back to you so he can collect the bags. He shakes his head at your protests that you can carry something and just gestures for you to go ahead. You’re so cute when you think he needs help. Din follows you to the aforementioned café and sees a handsome man greet you and the child enthusiastically. Apparently, this is Riva. Din feels his jaw clench involuntarily and his stomach feels hot. He tries to ignore it though as you’re turning toward him with a hand extended as you say, “Mando, come meet Riva.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mando.” Riva reaches out his hand in greeting. Din gives it a brief shake but saying nothing in response. It doesn’t seem to bother Riva, as he can’t keep his eyes off you and he turns back to say, “I’ll miss you two around here. You’ve been a real bright spot in my day.”

“Thank you,” you respond with a smile, “It’s been nice getting to know you. Oh, and thank you for the recipe, I know it will keep the little guy happy.” Din wonders if the meat pies are the only reason you’ve been coming to this café every day. He tries not to thinks about how much time you’ve probably spent visiting with Riva. He tells himself it doesn’t matter, you’re leaving now with him, and besides, why should he care who you spend your time with as long as the child is taken care of and safe.

“We should get going,” Din says and he decides to reach forward and place a hand on your shoulder.

“Of course.” You respond, “Wave bye-bye,” you tell the baby and you making waving motions to prompt him. Din moves his hand down to the small of your back and presses lightly in a gesture meant to get you to turn and walk with him. He’s pleased when you follow his movements; he likes that it shows you’re in sync with him.

“Have a safe journey! Maybe I’ll see you again soon?” Riva says hopefully.

“Maybe,” you reply with a small glance back.

“Not if I can help it,” Din says under his breath. You turn your head towards Din and for a moment, he thinks you heard his comment. But you say nothing and just continue on, letting him lead you towards the landing platform where the Razor Crest is parked. He keeps his hand on your lower back as you walk, knowing that it’s a small excuse to touch you without raising any questions.

Maker! He shouldn’t look forward to it as much as he does, but he really enjoys it when he has an excuse to touch you. Maybe you’ll be interested in practicing more self-defense techniques these next few days. Not only will it be a valuable skill for you to have, but also, he knows it means you’ll be in close proximity to him and there’s a good chance he’ll get to feel your body against his again. He’s embarrassed to admit even to himself the number of daydreams he’s had about being free to touch you without an excuse. Many of these daydreams are so innocent, things like running his fingers over your hair, holding your hand while you’re seated next to him, or embracing you when he returns from a hunt. Din sighs as he mulls over these thoughts. I am being pathetic and probably creepy too.

It doesn’t help things that the lines between being your employer and being your friend seem to be blurring every day. He chalks it up to living with you and the casual intimacy that comes with it. Something as simple as seeing you in your pajamas or knowing the exact scent of your soap has allowed him to know more about you than a typical employer might. Then there’s the odd sense of pride from knowing that he provides for you, and not just that he pays your salary, but that he provides you with a home and food. It’s similar to the feeling he had when he protected you from that creep in the marketplace a few weeks ago. Not that he had needed to do much, but the satisfaction he had from showing you how capable he was at keeping you safe was a new emotion that he didn’t quite recognize but was eager to feel again.

“So, what’s the next stop?” Your question brings Din out of his reverie. You’ve settled into the co-pilot’s chair after securing the child in his own seat.

“Crucival. I have some time to take a break for the next few days, and I figured you’d like one too.” Din tells you of his plan.

“Oh good! I know the kiddo will be happy to get to spend some time with you. Plus, I’d love a few hours to myself.” You sound eager for the opportunity. “Not that I don’t adore you, buddy,” you look over and reassure the child.

“I also thought I could teach you some additional self-defense tactics,” Din mentions casually, “If you’d like.”

“Oh, uh, sure, if you think so,” you say, “But, um, we don’t have to practice shooting moving targets, do we?”

“I was thinking more hand-to-hand fighting. Nothing too strenuous, just some key moves to help you get out of a bad situation.” He explains. Din can tell the idea of shooting a moving target really bothers you and he knows he’ll need to think of a clever way to help you become more comfortable with the idea.

“Ok, yeah, that would be good.” You offer him a small shrug. It’s not the enthusiastic response he was hoping for but at least you didn’t say no.

“There’s also a nice lake there I thought we could visit.” Din tells you thinking of another place that you and the child might enjoy seeing.

“Ooh! Do you think we can go swimming?” Now your tone is full of enthusiasm and you’re smiling at the prospect of a lake visit.

“Sure, if the weather is nice.” He’s pleased you sound so excited. Din’s not sure why he feels this need to make you happy, but each time he does, he knows he wants to do it again. Perhaps it’s just the way you seem to appreciate everything that he does, even trivial actions can bring a smile to your face and a warm ‘thank you’ from your lips. It’s not like other people don’t appreciate his work, but there’s something that feels different when you thank him, like it means so much to you.

“Tell me more about what you two did in Bespin.” Din likes hearing you talk about your time with the child.

“Well, I told you we went to the park; he liked going down the slide and playing in the sandbox there. Plus, he made lots of friends. There was this one little girl, Lisel, that he really liked and he loved holding her hand and walking around with her. They were so cute together.” You chuckle a little at the memory. “They became such good friends that her father invited us to dinner one evening.”

“Her father?” Din asks, wondering if you spent all your time meeting men while you were in Cloud City.

“Yes, he’s a single father, like you. Mostly Lisel was with her nanny at the park too, but one day her father brought her. He’d heard so much about the green boy, as Lisel called him, that he wanted to meet us.”

“How was it?” Din asks politely, although he’d rather not hear about your dinner date.

“It was fun, the little guy had a great time at dinner. He even shared his dessert with Lisel, so you know she was a very special friend.” Your voice teases the little one, as you know his fondness for sweet treats.

“Oh wait, I forgot, I took some holos to show you.” You pull out your holopad from your pocket and show him several of the child with a little girl who looks to be about 4 years old. Din has to admit, the kid does look like he’s having a great time. When you get to a holo with an attractive man and the little girl, he feels his interest wane.

“That’s Lisel’s father, he was friendly; it was nice of him to open his home to us.” You explain, a bit unnecessarily in Din’s opinion.

“Hmm” is all Din can think to say in response to that. Sure, this guy invited over his kid’s new friend because he’s just that nice, it had nothing to do with the beautiful woman caring for him. He’s thankful his expression is hidden from you by his helmet. He knows it’s stupid, because you’ll probably never see the man again, and he himself has no claim on you, but he can’t help a flare of jealousy at the thought of you sharing a meal with another man. It’s compounded by the fact that Din can’t ever share a meal with you without breaking his creed. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to hear any more about Lisel’s father, because you appear to be out of holos and decide to change the subject.

“How was your hunt? I mean, I’m sure you caught him, but how did it go?” You ask him. You’ve never inquired about his bounties in the past and he wonders what made you think to ask him now.

“It was successful, that’s the important part.” He responds.

“Will you tell me about it? I’d like to hear more about what you do.” You sound genuinely curious. He isn’t usually one to share tales of his work. He always saw it as outrageous bragging after hearing stories from other bounty hunters back on Navarro. But there’s something about your expression, an eagerness to know more about him, that makes him feel like talking about it.

“This one was difficult, because the guy was a lot craftier than most quarries.” He explains. “Normally, they just run to some place over-populated thinking they can blend in or they head somewhere remote and try to hide. But this guy managed to pull off a really good identity switch and he discovered a way to fool the bio data for the tracking fob.”

“What did he do? Surgically alter his face or something?” It sounds like something a villain from a bad holoprogram would do.

Din chuckles, “Yes, he’s human but he had some type of skin treatment to make him look like he was Chiss, even had these special lens in his eyes that glowed red. I had to run DNA samples to verify it was him since he looked nothing like the puck.”

“How did you ever find him?” You sound impressed.

“His mother was receiving regular payments from a mining consortium on Bespin. Each month it looked like the money was coming from different accounts but it was always the same amount and it rotated perfectly between the accounts. It was too regular to not be a pattern. Besides the mother had no prior connection to Bespin nor mining, there was no reason for her to be receiving money unless he was sending it to her.”

“It’s like something out of a crime drama, ‘always follow the money’, right?” You’re clearly entertained by his story.

“Yeah, well, that got me to the mine, but then I still had to figure out who he was pretending to be.” Din explains, “I had it narrowed down to a few guys but still had to track them down and then each one ran from me, making me chase them all over the mine, I was constantly trying to avoid dangerous machinery. I guess mining attracts men who have bounties on their heads.”

“You didn’t get hurt, did you?” Your concern for his well-being is sweet.

“Nah, I’m fine. Maybe a few bruises.” He shrugs, it’s nothing he can’t handle.

“You’re sure? Do you need bacta or anything?” You offer.

“I’m good.” Din replies, “But, um, if you felt like cooking dinner, I wouldn’t say no to that. Only if you feel like it. All I’ve had are ration bars the last few days.” He admits this sheepishly to you. Din doesn’t want to take advantage of your kindness but you really are a much better cook than he is and he does enjoy the way you fuss over him about eating healthy.

“Of course,” you say pleasantly and head down to the galley.

When you return, you have a tray with a bowl of soup, one of the meat pies, a salad, some sliced fruit and a cup of tea for him. It’s way more than he needs, but he appreciates your thoughtfulness and worry that he hasn’t eaten enough. He notes that you even made him the tea that he likes but that you don’t seem to care for, which means you must have made it special just for him. That thought alone is enough to make him smile and, after you’ve set down the tray on the console, he finds himself reaching out to take your hand. You seem a bit startled by this but you don’t say anything.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Din tries to make his voice sound as warm as he can through the modulator, “for all that you do for me.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mando,” you tell him, your own voice sounding warm and sincere.

He gives your hand a little squeeze, and tells you, “You’re such a good friend.” He watches your face falter a bit at those words and you release his hand.

“I hope you enjoy your dinner.” You smile at him again, but this smile doesn’t reach your eyes. He barely has a chance to register it though because you’re already moving past him, scooping up the kid, and heading back down the ladder swiftly.

Shit, what did I do wrong? Din can’t figure out what could have changed your demeanor. Maybe squeezing her hand was too much? He sighs to himself and hopes he hasn’t upset you in some way. He listens for a moment and he can hear you chatting happily to the child so it can’t be too bad. His stomach growls and remembering his hunger, he turns back to the feast you’ve brought him. He hates to admit it but the meat pie is good even if it did come from stupid handsome Riva.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crucival may be considered a backwater, but it has its own beauty in soft rolling hills and small wooded areas, and even several wild flowers, if Din remembers correctly. After yesterday evening though, he knows he wants to see a real smile on your face again and so he decides to head straight for the lake, knowing it’s the best feature this little break has to offer. Turns out that was the smart move because as soon as he lowers the Crest’s ramp, your entire face lights up with delight at the sparkling water. It’s a sunny day and warm without being too hot, a perfect day to spend at the lake. He chuckles as, just like the kid, you race down the ramp straight for the little sandy beach. Before he’s even off the ship, you two are already wading at the water’s edge. He watches as you help the kid get his robe off, allowing the little guy to splash around in the buff. He feels a wide smile break out on his face at how much fun the kid’s having. There’s a small group of shady trees at the water’s edge and Din settles himself underneath them where he can watch the two of you. He’s surprised though when you suddenly bring the child back to him.

“The water’s so warm, I going to go put on my swim suit.” You tell him excitedly. “The kiddo can be a nudist, but that’s not my style.” You give him a wink and jog back to the ship.

The little guy squirms in Din’s arms and makes small whining sounds indicating that he wants to be back in the water. Din looks down at himself and he feels a little out of place in all of his armor and protective layers.

“Give me a couple minutes, pal,” he tells the child as begins to remove his armor and strip down to his base layers. After a bit, he’s down to just his helmet, trousers, and undershirt, and he’s finally ready to take the kid back to the lake when Din sees you coming back. All his movements come to a grinding halt as he watches you saunter over to him. Your swimsuit shows off your all your curves beautifully and you look so gorgeously sexy that all he can do is stare at you. He watches you dumbly as you reach for the squirming child who is getting increasingly impatient and he sees your mouth moving, but it’s as if there’s a short circuit in his brain and he has no idea what you’re saying.

“Mando?” You must have asked him something.

“Yes” He just agrees blindly hoping that’s the right answer. It seems to be, because you’re giving him that incredibly bright smile of yours and saying, “Alright, let’s go.”

You tug his arm to make him move and head back to the water. He follows after you and the child, but stops to wade in the shallow water at the shore, while you swim out a bit further, holding onto the child. He watches as the two of you float and swim, laughing in delight.

“Well, aren’t you coming in?” You call out to him.

“I’m still in my clothes.” Din doesn’t own a swimsuit, never has.

“So? They can get wet. Or I guess you could take them off.” Your voice has a playfulness he hasn’t heard before. You’re teasing him, and it’s clear you don’t think he’ll ever take off his clothes to come swimming.

Din might spend most of his time with his skin fully covered, but he’s not shy about his body. In fact, your teasing tone makes him want to rise to your challenge, and so he reaches for the hem of his shirt and slowly pulls it off. When he glances back at you, he can see he has your complete attention and your mouth has fallen open a bit. Good, Din wants you to look, he likes the idea of you watching him undress. He moves to unbutton and unzip his trousers next, before pushing them down and letting them fall to the sand. He heads into the water now only in his black boxer briefs and his helmet. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from him, at least until the child sends a large splash of water into your face.

“He got you good,” Din chuckles at the sight of your face dripping with water as he swims up to you.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer out. It appears you’re rather flustered from his impromptu strip tease on the shore and you seem to be trying very hard to keep your eyes on his visor, but he sees you taking little peeks down at his naked chest.

“It’s alright, you can look.” Din tells you cheekily and loves it when you gasp in response. He looks down at your chest too where he’s rewarded with the sight of your cleavage, enhanced by the glistening water running down your skin. Teasing you a bit further, he says, “Besides, I’m certainly enjoying the view myself.”

“Mando!” You’re trying to make it sound like you’re scandalized, but the way your eyes are shining and the fact that you’re still smiling tell him you’re enjoying this as much as he is. Not wanting to push too far though, he turns his attention to the child.

“C’mon pal, let’s practice kicking.” Din holds the little one’s arms as he floats on his tummy and you both watch as he kicks his little legs hard churning up the water. Din moves through the water helping the child gain momentum as he kicks. The child grins up at him in delight and Din’s glad he decided to come swimming.

The three of you have a delightful time in the lake and you stay in the water until your fingers and toes are pruney, only finally coming out because you can tell the child will need to eat soon or you’ll be dealing with a cranky toddler instead of a giggling one.

“Oh, I forgot to grab towels.” You’re saying as you make your way back onto the little beach.

“That’s ok,” Din replies, “You can just use my cape to dry off and the kid and I will air dry.” He’s already stretching out in the sun. You glance down at him, but then suddenly turn away with your hand to your mouth and hurry over to find his cape. Din looks down at himself and realizes that now that his boxer briefs are wet, everything is more on display than before. He chuckles to himself and hopes you weren’t too shocked, but also, he can’t help himself from thinking, I hope she liked what she saw.

When you return you’re carrying some towels, a blanket and bag that looks to be full of food. Din watches as you demurely keep your head turned and toss him a towel before helping the child dry off more. Then you spread out a blanket and proceed to set up a huge picnic for the three of you. He notices you’re dividing up the food so that it’s on two opposite edges of the blanket.

“I thought maybe if we sat back-to-back it would be OK for us to eat together. I’ll keep the child on my lap and there’s no one else around who could see you, so it should be safe. What do you think?” You ask him.

“Yeah, that will work.” Din’s touched that you’ve thought of a way for the three of you to share a meal together in some fashion. He knows there aren’t many settlements around, so he figures he can push the helmet up and leave it atop his head while he eats. It will be easy enough to drop it back down quickly if necessary.

He waits until you get settled on the blanket with the kid, and then sits down behind you. He leans back against your body, forgetting that your swimsuit has left your back almost entirely bare and now he can feel your warm skin from your hips to your shoulders pressed against his. The sensation is so incredible for him that he feels like he can’t breathe. He doesn’t remember the last time someone touched this much of his skin. What he told you before was true, he has had lovers, but it’s been a very long time since he’s taken off more than what was absolutely necessary for those encounters. And despite the fact that there’s nothing truly sexual about the way that you’re touching him now, it’s intimate for him. He tries to eat but each time one of you moves all he can focus on is the feeling of your skin brushing his. He knows you’re trying to have a conversation with him, but he keeps losing track of the topic.

“Is everything OK, Mando?” You seem to have noticed how quiet he’s being.

“Yeah, just, uh, enjoying the sound of your voice.” In trying not to saying anything about how much he likes touching you, he lets that admission slip out unwarranted.

“Oh, thank you. I hope I haven’t been too chatty.” You sound pleased but a little self-conscious from his compliment. “I know you must be used to silence when you eat, and I hope I didn’t bother you.”

“Of course not. It’s been interesting.” He figures that’s safe enough for him to say so he doesn’t have to admit that he’s been too physically distracted to really pay attention to your words.

“I am starting to get a bit tired though, how about we take a nap, little guy?” You’re addressing the child now. The kid is not pleased with this proposal, however, and he lets out an unhappy, whiny sound.

“I can take him back in the water if you’d like to rest,” Din suggests. He knows you’ve been on full-blown caregiver duty for days now and he did intend for this little sojourn to be a rest for you.

“Would you? That sounds great.” He can hear the relief in your voice. Slipping his helmet back on, he cleans up his side of the picnic before coming around to pick up the kid, and he notices the grateful look in your eyes. Din leaves you to your nap, only glancing back once to see you bunching up his cape to use as a pillow. The gesture makes him chuckle and he’s glad he could give you some time to yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, the weather has turned somewhat and there’s a cooler breeze blowing. It’s not a great day for swimming, but, Din thinks with a smile, it will be perfect for self-defense training with you. When he tells you this plan after breakfast, he’s hoping you’re up for it.

“Yes, I think it’s a good idea,” you respond to his suggestion, “Thank you for offering, Mando, I would like to learn some more moves.”

“Good” He doesn’t try to hide his enthusiasm at sharing some of his knowledge with you. Din knows he can’t be with you at all times and the more you can protect yourself the less he will worry. In anticipation of you agreeing to training, he’s forgone his armor today, save the helmet of course.

After a careful explanation to the child about how you’ll both be pretend fighting and a warning that he is to stay in your sight at all times, Din and you are ready to begin. He starts by explaining four main areas of weakness that can allow you to inflict damage with minimal effort: the stomach, the instep, the nose, and the groin. He also points out other areas, like knees and ankles, that can be weakened fairly quickly allowing you to escape. Then he takes you through some basic movements that are easy but effective. He’s sure to teach moves that will work with either your arms or your legs in case your attacker has incapacitated one or the other.

“What if I can’t move my arms or my legs?” You ask in a worried voice.

“Well, then use that big brain of yours to try and talk your way out of things.” Din knows that wasn’t the answer you were looking to get, but he hopes the teasing compliment will distract you from any worse case scenarios you can imagine.

“Gee, thanks,” you respond, but you’re smirking at him so he knows it was a good tactic.

“Let’s try it all out now. I’ll pretend to attack you and you try to escape. But uh, maybe don’t try any of the nose moves because the beskar will just hurt your hand.” Din says.

“Got it, nose off-limits for this.” You nod, but then give him a sassy look, “What about the groin?”

“Look, do what you need to, but I would appreciate it if that’s not your primary target every time,” he says. You just laugh in response to that, and before you realize it, Din is attacking you head on.

“Hey, wait, I wasn’t ready,” you protest as Din’s arms grab yours tightly.

“I know, so what’re you gonna do about it?” He’s smirking at you until you manage to kick his shin hard and then his ankle. It’s not enough to make him let go, but it does hurt. “Alright, good, keep trying.”

It takes you a few attempts, but eventually you manage to break free from his hold. He makes you practice several times, changing up his angle of attack as he goes to keep the element of surprise. After each little session, he gives you advice to help you improve and he praises you for the good hits you managed to land. Finally, you’re pleading with him for a break and some water. He gives in and you walk over to the child to check on him. The little one has been amazingly good this whole time, playing with a couple of his toys and looking up every so often to watch the entertainment you’re both providing.

Din has been enjoying himself immensely. Although you’ve probably given him a few new bruises, he’s proud of how well you listened to his teaching and genuinely pleased by the quick progress you’ve made. Plus, he’s thankful you’ve tactfully avoided hitting him in the groin thus far. Although he’s given you permission to use what he’s taught you, he’d rather not have any bruising there. As you turn to head back over to the patch of grass where you’ve been training, Din realizes your guard is still down, so it’s a perfect opportunity for him to surprise you again. Only this time he misjudges his speed and strength as he’s a little too excited at the idea of catching you unaware and he ends up tackling you to the ground.

“Mando!” You let out a surprised yelp as you scramble in the grass with Din on top of you. He pushes himself up on his arms, but all this serves to do is make him more aware of your position as now he’s looking down at you, under him. It sends a hot feeling of pure lust through his chest and stomach, which ends up right between his legs at the precise moment you choose to arch your back and brush your hips up against his. So much for avoiding his groin. Your move is purely instinctual, Din thinks, an attempt to try to move him off of you. But the friction feels too good and he can’t stifle the groan that escapes his throat. Without thinking, he pushes his hips into yours, grinding himself against you. It isn’t until he sees your eyes widen and you let out a gasp, that he finally comes to his senses and jumps off of you as fast as he can. His face heats up under the helmet, as embarrassment washes over him. He knows you must have felt how hard he is for you right now, how could you not? He’d almost rather you had punched him there instead.

“I- I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to uh knock you down.” Din is stumbling over his words as he’s trying to regain control over himself. He realizes too late that you’re still sprawled on the ground and that if he were any type of gentleman he should offer to help you up. Awkwardly he reaches out a hand to you and helps you to your feet, but he’s afraid of touching you for too long so he drops your hand the second you’re upright, terrified that he’ll do or say something else stupid. Shit! What did I just do? I should apologize more, right? But what the hell do I say?

“Are you OK? Did I hurt you? I’m really sorry, really, that was stupid of me, I-” Din is babbling now but he can’t think of the right words to say. I’m sorry for rutting into you like a horny jerk?

“It’s ok, Mando, I’m alright. I’m not hurt.” You’re laughing it off and brushing some grass out of your hair. “You just surprised the hell out of me.”

“I didn’t mean to come at you that hard-” Din tries to explain but then realizes that your eyes flick down just for a second at the word hard. He’s still very obviously aroused and clearly, you’re aware of that. All of his bravado from yesterday is gone and he doesn’t care if you like what you see, he just wants you to not despise him.

“Mando, really, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry. But maybe that’s enough training for the day.” You’re being very magnanimous about the situation, in his opinion. You have every right to be angry with him, but instead you give him a reassuring smile and a little pat on the arm. “I learned a lot, and again, I appreciate you teaching me.”

You turn toward the child and head over to him, saying “Hey buddy, feel like going for a walk?” The baby coos up at you in delight and reaches his arms up to you indicating that he wants to be carried for this ‘walk’.

Great, she can’t wait to get away from me. Din lets a new wave of shame wash over him, but he can’t blame you for wanted some space right now.

You surprise him though when you say, “C’mon Mando, let’s go explore this place a bit more.”

“You want me to come along?” He doesn’t believe he heard you correctly.

“Yes, of course,” you say warmly, “Unless you’re too worn out from my excellent new defensive moves to walk?” You voice has a teasing lilt to it again, and he’s relieved to know you don’t seem to be mad at him. He feels better and is thankful you seem to accept his apology.

“You’re going to have to do a lot more to me than that before I’m too tired to walk.” He responds smugly as he comes over to join you.

You turn to face him, and with a gleam in your eye and a little smirk on your lips, you say, “Oh, I’m sure I can think of a few things I could do that would tire you out.”

Once again, Din is thankful for his helmet as there is no way to hide the utter shock on his face at your words. Are you flirting with him? Could it be possible that you’re interested in him in that way? He tells himself that he’s being ridiculous and that he needs to get a grip on his hormones. He takes a deep breath and wills himself to calm down.

You’re too busy laughing to notice his inner turmoil, and when you finally catch your breath, you say, “I couldn’t resist saying that, you set me up so perfectly.”

He laughs with you letting it break the tension he’s feeling, telling you, “Yeah, you’re hilarious.” So you were only joking. That’s good to know. You’re probably just trying to put him at ease and smooth over any awkwardness.

“Let’s head this way,” you gesture with a point of your finger and give him another smile.

Din walks with you and the child along the lakeshore following a small path that leads up a hill. When you reach the top, you’re rewarded with a view of a field of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze on one side and a view of the soft blue waters of the lake on the other. The clouds have thinned out leaving a bright blue sky with the sun streaming down; all together, it’s a picturesque sight.

“Oh this is so pretty,” you sigh happily, “I’m so glad you brought us here, Mando.” The child also makes a contented cooing sound.

“I’m pleased you’re enjoying it.” Din tells you softly. As pretty as the view is, he only has eyes for your face. The evident joy you have in seeing this simple landscape pulls at his heart and he wishes there were a way for him to give you this feeling every day. The emotion he’s feeling grows when he feels you slip your hand into his. You don’t say anything at first, you just remain there holding his hand and looking out at the view for a moment.

You squeeze his hand before you let go and say, “Thank you for this, bringing me to Crucival. It’s a lovely place. You’re a good friend to me too, Mando.”

Your words echo his from a few nights ago, but there’s something about hearing you call him a friend that disappoints him. It’s not enough, he realizes, he wants to be more than a friend to you. It’s a dangerous thought.

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Thank you for reading! Keep reading: Chapter 4: A Fairly Indecent Proposal

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#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfic #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

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