Reader X Character - Tumblr Posts

– How could this happen?

Yandere, OOC?, didn't know where the plot would go, reader is deaf, shitty ending, and other warnings I don't know blah blah blah...

Trafalgar Law x Gender Neutral Reader

Symmary: Basically, you have somehow ended up in the One Piece universe, but you're deaf and only use sign language, but luckily, you had joined Trafalgar Law's and his crew the Heart Pirates and you had joined! But something about Law isn't right...

Btw thank you, kiyoahdiy, for this idea credits to them and but I had a hard time writing this since it was hard coming up with this story would go, so I especially hope you liked this!

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Waking up to the familiar sensation of the ocean’s rhythmic sway beneath you, you had to remind yourself—yet again—that this wasn’t some strange, vivid dream. You really had ended up in the world of One Piece. The sight of the bright, open sea stretching endlessly around you was beautiful yet disorienting, a constant reminder of how surreal your situation was. What had started as a normal night back in your world had turned into a reality where you found yourself stranded in this dangerous yet exciting universe.

At first, you had struggled, not just with the shock of being thrown into this pirate-filled world but also with how to communicate. Being deaf meant that you couldn’t hear the chaos around you, and your way of communicating—sign language—was foreign to everyone here. You had felt more isolated than ever.

That was until you met Trafalgar Law and his crew.

The Heart Pirates, initially wary of your sudden appearance, had quickly taken a liking to you. Bepo, the giant talking mink, had been the first to show interest in learning how you communicated, his wide, fluffy paws trying their best to mimic the signs you taught him. Penguin and Shachi followed, eager to help bridge the gap between you and the rest of the crew.

And Law… Law had been watching you closely the entire time. From the moment you stepped on his ship, his amber eyes had never strayed far from you. He was quiet, calculating, as though he was studying every aspect of you—not just your movements but the very essence of who you were. It had unnerved you at first, but you’d quickly chalked it up to his nature. Trafalgar Law was a brilliant tactician, always thinking ahead, always planning. You had assumed his interest was nothing more than that of a captain trying to understand a new crewmate.

It wasn’t until one fateful night that you realized there was much more to it.

•~•

The crew had been sitting around the deck after a long day, the sound of laughter and conversation filling the air—though you could only see their smiles, their body language giving away the friendly banter. Bepo had sat beside you, signing clumsily about the day’s events, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his efforts. It felt nice, like you were truly part of the crew.

That’s when Law appeared, as he often did, quietly, his presence casting a shadow over the lighthearted mood. His expression was unreadable, a subtle frown etched across his face as he glanced briefly at the crew before turning his focus solely on you. Without a word, he motioned for you to follow him.

You hesitated, wondering what could be so urgent, but ultimately complied, rising to your feet and trailing behind him. Law led you to the far end of the ship, where the noise of the crew faded, leaving the two of you alone under the stars. The sea breeze was cool, and for a moment, you simply stood there, watching the moonlight dance across the waves.

Law turned to face you, his usual gruff demeanor replaced with something almost… vulnerable. He pulled out a small notepad, something he often used when words weren’t enough to communicate with you, and scribbled something down.

"I want to learn more."

He wrote before flipping the paper around for you to see. You had blinked in surprise. You had been teaching the crew basic sign language for weeks now, but Law had always stood on the sidelines, watching with that intense gaze of his. Yet he never seemed interested in joining.

Before you could sign a response, Law continued writing.

"But I want you to teach me. Alone."

Your heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t like Law. The captain was always distant, calculating, rarely showing any signs of personal interest. Why now? And why alone?

You nodded cautiously, curious but unsure of his intentions. You began showing him some basic signs, expecting him to struggle as the others had, but Law, true to his reputation as a quick learner, picked up the language with ease. His movements were precise, controlled—just like him.

The two of you spent hours like that, the rest of the crew long asleep, as you taught him more and more. And the more he learned, the closer he seemed to get. Literally. His presence was starting to be overwhelming, the space between the two of you growing smaller with each passing moment. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your hands brushed during a sign, a strange tension built in the air.

Eventually, Law stopped signing, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His expression shifted slightly, his usual cold exterior softening ever so subtly.

And then he signed something with his that made your heart stop.

“Be mine.”

You froze, your mind racing to comprehend what you had just seen. Your eyes widened in disbelief, wondering if you had misinterpreted his signs, but Law’s gaze was unwavering, his hands still poised in the air, waiting for your response.

You had never considered romance to be a possibility in this world—especially not with Trafalgar Law. He was always so focused, so guarded. And you? You had resigned yourself to thinking that love was out of reach, that surviving in this world was all you could hope for.

But here he was, asking you to be his... his lover...

You hesitated, a million thoughts running through your mind at once. Was this real? Could you even trust him? Law was powerful and brilliant, but he was also ruthless. You had seen firsthand how he commanded his crew with an iron will, how he controlled every aspect of his surroundings. Was this just another form of control?

Yet, despite the uncertainty, despite the unease swirling in your gut, you found yourself smiling. Something about the way he was looking at you, the vulnerability hidden behind those amber eyes, made you want to believe that this was genuine.

You shook your head slightly, trying to clear your doubts, and as you had blushed a bit as heat was coming in your face as you signed.

“I accept.”

For a moment, Law’s expression didn’t change. He simply stared at you, his face unreadable. But then his eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a small smirk as his brows had furrowed. He looked almost…pleased? As if he knew you would accept... Or perhaps something deeper, something darker was lurking behind his gruff exterior.

He stepped closer, his presence now fully overwhelming, his eyes piercing into yours with a possessive intensity. You had sealed your fate, though you didn’t realize it at the time. The moment you accepted his confession, the moment you agreed to be his, you had unknowingly surrendered to something far more dangerous than you could have imagined.

-(So how's your day been...?)- XD

From that point on, Law’s possessiveness became suffocating. It wasn’t obvious at first. To the crew, things seemed normal, but you could feel the shift. He would always be nearby, watching, waiting. If you spent too much time with the others, even if it was something as innocent as teaching Bepo a new sign, Law would find a way to interrupt, his hand resting on your shoulder as a silent reminder of his claim over you.

It became clear that Law didn’t want anyone else near you—not even his own crew.

One evening, while you were sitting with Penguin and Shachi, showing them some new phrases, Law appeared as if from nowhere. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, arms crossed, his expression as dark as the night around you. The others quickly picked up on the tension and made an excuse to leave, but you could see the worry in their eyes.

As soon as they were gone, Law pulled you aside, his grip firm but not painful. His eyes burned with something intense, something you hadn’t seen before.

“They’re not important”

He sighed quickly, his movements sharp and precise.

“You are important. Only to me.”

You frowned, signing back that the crew mattered, that they were your friends, and was also Law's crew, but Law’s gaze darkened.

“I don’t care”

He sighed as his hands moved with frustration as he was signing with his hands.

“No one else gets to be close to you. Just me.”

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. This wasn’t love—it was obsession. And you were trapped in the middle of it.

•~•

The final straw came when the Heart Pirates met up with the Straw Hat crew. Luffy, in his usual carefree manner, had approached you, all smiles and curiosity. He tried to communicate with you, his wide eyes filled with excitement, but before you could even sign a greeting, Law was there.

His hand gripped your arm tightly as he stepped between you and Luffy, his eyes cold and dangerous.

“Strawhat-ya”

He said, his voice low and threatening.

“Back off.”

Luffy blinked, confused, but shrugged it off, turning his attention elsewhere. But you could see it—Law’s possessiveness was spiraling out of control. No one was allowed near you. No one but him.

That night, as you lay in your bunk, you realized the truth. Law didn’t love you—not in the way you had hoped. He was obsessed, consumed by the need to control every aspect of your life. You had thought that joining the Heart Pirates would give you a chance to survive, a chance to live in this dangerous world.

But in accepting Law’s love, you had sealed your fate. You weren’t just part of the crew. You were his prisoner.

And no matter how hard you tried to escape, no matter how much you wanted to be free, Law would never let you go. You were his, and he would make sure no one else ever came close to you again.

As Law had kissed you, and the kiss was nothing more on how much he loved you... in a sick and twisted way. The kiss was how Law had held your waist so tightly as if he didn't want to let go...

As the two of you kept kissing as after a few more moments of passionate kissing, Law had said something that made your spine chill.

"You're mine (M/N)-ya and mine alone."

And as Law gave you one more kiss on the lips, you could see the smirk on his face as if he knew he was right.

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Yeah, this was hard to write, especially with school and how i could barely think of the plot, too, and sorry if it had been a long time as I posted... again...

Oneshot Excerpt - "Racing Heart"

Knockout x Reader (8,434 words)

A chapter out of my story "Leaking Spark", but this chapter kind of stands on its own as its own little short story. Reader is described as a female with an almost flat chest, with long hair.

Summary: Knockout owes you, and he's convinced you to attend a race with him to collect the prize money he wins. Things... get a little more exciting than you expected.

Story below the cut.

Content tags: [Mildly NSFW but nothing overtly graphic, accidental stimulation, non-consensual vouyerism, very f l i r t y, illegal car racing, unwanted flirting (not from Knockout, from a side character), established relationship (platonic friendship but heading towards very NOT platonic ;3)]

You’re standing in the kitchen looking down at three happy cats with their butts planted in front of their food dishes, happily lapping up the wet food treat. It wasn’t usual for you to leave in the evenings, so you’d made sure to spend extra time with them playing games and ensuring they were maybe more than a little spoiled.

It wasn’t something you did often, so you let them indulge.

Nervous, you smooth your hands down the front of your shirt again. You’d agonized over what to wear; you had no idea where this race was supposed to take place, and googling photos of what people wore to racecar events didn’t really help you much. He’d said to dress for being indoors, so you figured you’d be in some kind of building to watch the race or maybe the bleachers were just enclosed, or. Something. You really weren’t sure; you loved looking at pretty cars, sure, but you really didn’t know much about them.

You glance at the clock. You have half an hour before he’s supposed to show up.

You smooth your hand over your shirt again, then all at once groan, grab it, and yank it up over your head as you march across the living room and dig through the assortment of clothes you’d dumped over the couch.

Everything had started as a nice little tidy, folded pile, as you matched outfits and wondered why this was even bothering you so much. You were going to a race to make sure Knockout could collect prize money -- you felt a bit arrogant just assuming he’d win, but it was really, really hard not to assume he had a natural advantage over any human driver -- and make sure you could get a new vehicle to get yourself to and from work in. You were not going on a date.

It didn’t stop you from trying on three more outfits and several different shirts before you looked at the clock, and just about panicked.

“Aaauuugh, fine! Default! Art school summer-day campus party!” you declared, then peeled the black shirt off, and marched over for your favorite crop-top.

~*~

Knockout considered honking to announce his arrival, but he was early, and he knew how his human acquaintance felt about sudden, unexpected loud noises. She wasn’t overly fond of being startled, mostly because she reacted like her life depended on her next choice of action, every time.

Considering her recent experience, he didn’t think that state was any better, so he just waited quietly in the driveway. Movement caught his attention, and he glanced at the large window of her livingroom just in time to see the human walk past with her lips pursed in a pretty pout, then she stopped, turned, and yanked her shirt off.

It was so abrupt and fluid, he didn’t even realize what was happening until it was done.

Every gear and servo in his body jammed up and seized. She peeled the black fabric off with one smooth motion and yeeted it into the air in the same gesture, as smooth and graceful as any transformation sequence he’d ever seen, only it left behind a swath of smooth, unexpectedly toned skin as her shapely back shifted with her movements. A thin red strap wound snug around her torso’s midsection, the rich scarlet bright against her skin and nearly the same color as his own finish.

Knockout…

…had seen naked humans. He’d used Boogle and come across many unfortunate if educational places of the internet, some of which he’d rather prefer to take a cortical splice to and forget about. He’d found humans to be largely unattractive, repulsive creatures, their fleshy bodies uncouth and disturbingly fragile. They certainly looked best when dressed.

But she…

Knockout had a small moment of crisis as he watched his human ally walk back and forth, trying on different shirts as she smoothed the fabric out, turned this way and that, then subsequently ripped it off again. Her body was sleek, smooth, curved in all the right spots… The shaped garment she wore over her chest beneath her shirts cupped her small breasts in a way that had him imagining sleek armor plating and delicate servos. She didn’t have large, squishy growths like most femme humans seemed to, but they were small and perky, almost flat to her chest but with just enough shape to curve her figure into an overtly feminine form.

If she were a Transformer, she’d be a perfectly proportioned femme.

Knockout shuddered when his vents kicked on, and forcibly shut them off. No. He was fine. He was. Just…

He was just all hot and bothered because Breakdown had been away from base for so long, and his favorite choice for blowing off steam hadn’t had any time to cross paths in a habsuite with him. That’s all.

Sweet chromium… he thought faintly as he watched her peel the next shirt she’d thrown on off, muscles rippling subtly with the motion of her arms crossing. Now that he was paying rapt attention, this time, he saw the silver shimmer on her back as she turned, before his engine seized again.

Only this time, it was with guilt.

His own finish had long since been repaired and buffed to shine, but hers… Her smooth skin was marked by the same angry scars he’d seen on her arm, all the way down the left side of her back that he could see, and probably farther. She marched out of sight after throwing her hands up in the air, and this time, he didn’t see her walk back into view.

~*~

At five fifty eight, you say goodbye to the kitties and lock the door behind yourself as you step out of your house’s front entry, military green coat over one arm and purse draped over a shoulder and across your chest. You’d opted for black leggings with rugged looking short shorts over them, your feet stuffed into laced up knee-high boots with solid tread and slight heels. Your chest was covered by a comfortable black tank-top with a screen-printed image of a graffiti-styled dragon in surreal, dreamy colors emblazoned on the front.

A red ball cap covered in an eclectic assortment of pins you’d collected over the years keeps your hair stuffed up underneath and out of the way as you smooth your shirt down nervously, trying to calm yourself down. The black, leather fingerless gloves on your hands stand out in smart contrast against your skin.

You’re so buzzed with energy and you didn’t even know why. Maybe it was because Knockout was taking you somewhere, or maybe it was because you were going to see a car race, something you’d never seen in person before. Whatever it is, it has your heart aflutter and your nerves on edge, so you don’t immediately notice your audience until you finally look up from nervously fussing over yourself.

You’re as ready as you’re going to be, which is good, because Knockout’s already parked like an improbably magazine-perfect car model in your driveway.

The driver’s side door pops open invitingly, and you steel yourself as you take a deep breath, then stride over with affected confidence. Right. If you were going to do this, you were going to do it with your chin held high.

~*~

Knockout had never thought humans to be very beautiful, though he thought many of the things they created were. They had an absurd penchant for creating some of the most stunning works of art, and he had to admit, while their skills in technology itself were largely lacking, their eye for the silhouette of a good vehicle form wasn’t.

He’d never seen a human dressed like his petite ally.

 It’s not that what she wore was so exotic, he’d actually seen many outfits like it-- but her clothes were… unique. Personalized. There were paint splatters on her boots, and her leggings, and her shorts. Even her old, beaten-up ball cap had some bright smudges of paint smeared and splattered on it. She’d added patches of scraps of fabric with painstakingly perfect stitches in bright colors and patterns he couldn’t help but suspect held some personal meaning. Rounded metal studs had been added as artfully placed accents affixed to the fabric, highlighting the art or becoming it itself.

She’d doodled on her tiny scrap of jeans with marker, abstracted designs that wrapped around her hip and vanished at the hem like there’d been a larger design there, once. 

She should look rumpled, dirty even, but somehow she pulled the eclectic look off with an artistic flare he immediately found bizarrely appealing. She stepped confidently out of the house wearing garments that neatly sectioned the parts of her body off into pleasing shapes; particularly the sleek black leggings that covered her squishy protoform between the tall boots she wore and the pair of shorts that covered her overtly feminine aft. Proportionally speaking, she had what Knockout would consider wide hips, and his gaze lingered far longer on her backside than he thought was maybe appropriate.

Scrap it all, he was getting all revved up over a human.

Having her soft body plop all its gentle, sleek curves into his driver’s seat as her form molded against the shape of him wasn’t helping his nerves.

“You certainly dolled yourself up for the evening, hoping to catch yourself a pretty mate from the audience?” he wonders idly. He tells himself he was just making conversation, but his investment in her answer has him wondering if he should comm Breakdown and ask for a little emergency quickie when he got back to base. It wasn’t often that he got so wound up, but when he did…

His thoughts derailed at his guest’s uncomfortable expression.

“Oh. Um… No?” she says hesitantly. With even more hesitance, she uncertainly asks, “Should I go change?”

Yes. Yes, she should, before he did or said something moronic. He silently reminds himself of all the grotesque, nasty, frame-shuddering things he’d seen on the internet of her species interfacing. It was not attractive. Not remotely.

“It’s just a compliment,” he soothes instead as he began to back up and turn to leave the way he’d come, because it was already six-oh-one PM, and they had a schedule to keep. “You look fine.”

Very fine. For a human.

“R-right. Uh… How um- How long am I going to be by myself while you’re racing?” she wonders, and tucks hair behind an ear as she looks out the side window.

Knockout’s engine purrs with a low rumble.

“Oh, not very long at all.”

“The race is that fast?” she asks, startled and impressed.

“Oh, I’m very fast,” Knockout boasts with an audible smirk.

~*~

He’s toying with you; giving you answers that don’t actually tell you much of anything at all. You won’t be alone for long, and you’ll be perfectly comfortable even if it rains earlier than the news forecast. No one will be able to harrass you, even while he’s busy driving, and no, you won’t have to worry about getting lost trying to find him after the race.

You’ll be indoors, but the race is outdoors; you couldn’t find any race tracks in the area that matched his eclectic, odd descriptions, and you finally gave up and accepted the fate of being surprised.

Your surprise couldn’t have been greater; no wonder you couldn’t find any clues about where you two were going, because Knockout drives you both out into the middle of seemingly fucking nowhere, desert stretching for miles in every direction, until all at once there’s just… Cars.

So many fucking cars. Old cars, vintage cars, modern cars, cars you’ve never even heard of or seen before. There’s some rusty ones, some pretty normal looking rides, but most of the vehicles present or at least easily visible, are souped up. There’s a handful of two wheelers from mopeds to motorcycles, a few of which have been painted up as pretty as the showroom cars.

Your heart flutters as you take in the amazing sight, studying sleek lines on aggressive muscle cars and sexy looking hot rods. And the art-- holy paintbrushes, you could spend all week drooling over the sparkly hoods and artful flames and fancy geometric patterns. Some models rock more classic styles, with minimal color blocking and striking, well placed body lines of razor-straight pinstriping.

“My, my… I didn’t take you for such an automobile enthusiast,” Knockout comments. He’d been unusually quiet for the drive, though you didn’t think he was in a bad mood, just… quiet. Maybe because of the somewhat awkward tension of you declaring you’d decide whether or not you two would stay friends or if he’d put his engine towards the sunset once this was all over.

You don’t like thinking about it. You like thinking about why you don’t like thinking about it, even less.

So you do the entirely reasonable, mature, adult thing to do.

You ignore it.

“I don’t know models or engine parts and stuff, I’m real shit at remembering numbers and words,” you admit. “But I fucking love a gorgeous ride,” you enthuse, forgetting for a moment how awkward it might be talking to someone who’s physical body happens to transform into an automobile. “Like, look at that Camaro-- everyone’s flocking around the new and shiny model over there, but that sexy beast looks like it could chew some asphalt. Way cooler paint job that shows off the body well, and I like the rims, it’s a bit clashy but has personality,” you ramble. “Oh! Oh! And the painted pinstriped one, not the vinyl striped on the end, the other one-- that’s some smartly pulled lines, and the body form is so pretty.”

Knockout’s engine makes an odd rumble for a moment, and you abruptly sit down in your seat, face warming as you cut yourself off from gushing.

“Hmmm… I’m partial to the reds, myself. That Firebird is a sleek look, too bad what’s under the hood isn’t much,” he comments idly. You look around until you see it, one of the few car models you actually do recognize.

“The T-top?” you question.

“Mmhm.”

“What made you decide to be an Aston Martin?” you wonder as Knockout makes his way through the crowd, seeming to thrive on the admiring stares he gets as people stop to oogle his pretty paint.

You don’t blame them. He is some fine looking eye candy in the car world.

“Hmmm, I liked its shape and specs, and there’s not many of them around. There’s no point in looking good if everyone else is rocking the same style,” he remarks.

You can’t help but giggle at his vanity.

“Well, you do look good,” you admit, then pat the steering wheel in what you hope is taken as the companionable gesture you mean it as.

“How good?” Knockout purrs, fishing for more compliments. You laugh harder.

“Is a literal crowd of drooling onlookers not enough to flatter you?”

“Quality, not quantity. I’d rather hear your praise,” the mech replies with a suave, low-pitched voice that quite abruptly, makes something below your belly twist.

Oooooh ‘kay. Time to change topics. Anything to get him to stop speaking like that.

“Right! So, where am I waiting while you race?” you wonder.

“Just sit pretty right where you are,” Knockout answers.

You go still.

Abruptly, everything suddenly makes so much sense. The fact he offered you the driver’s seat instead of the passenger side, that you’re dressed up for ‘indoors and sitting down,’ all the little clues and hints and taunts he teased you with so the answer was right in front of your face.

“K-Knockout, I’ve never been in a race!” You splutter.

“Relax, I’m going to do all the driving. All you have to do is smile and wave.”

“Did-- Did you already register? How does this even work? Don’t you have to pay to enter these things? I don’t have enough money for that!” you protest.

“I registered,” he soothes. “And payment’s already handled. Like I said… Just sit there and look pretty,” he repeats smugly.

“Oooh I’m going to kick your rims when I get out of here,” you grouse.

“Then maybe I’ll never let you go,” he taunts.

That flutter in your stupid, annoying, idiot body returns with a needy twinge. You shift your weight, trying to take pressure off the uncomfortably sensitized nerves between your legs.

“Just don’t yeet me through the windshield,” you beg, then reach up to grab the seatbelt. You’d forgone wearing it because honestly, you felt like you could not possibly be safer on the road than by being a passenger for the sentient mechanical being, but now you have images of being tossed about his cabin space with sharp turns or hair-raising, tire-squealing acrobatics. You have no clue what to expect. Is this a straight run? The road is straight, and seems to stretch for ages, so you assume it’s straight. Are there turns? Do the other drivers play nice, or does a bit of bumper-cars go on? You have no idea, but you get the feeling this isn’t, perhaps, a legal race.

“Please, you’re with the best driver on the entire planet,” he boasts.

“Wow, your ego is being very humble today,” you say dryly as he finally passes out of the crowd of gathered onlookers, and rolls up to a stop several car paces back from a blue painted line across the road where three other cars are already lined up.

“You think planetary greatness is humble?” he wonders.

“Only in comparison to expecting you to boast about universe-wide accomplishment,” you elaborate with a smirk.

Knockout snorts.

“Yes, well, I only claim credit where it’s due. I am, however, quite the name on my home planet.”

That catches your attention; he rarely talks about himself in any kind of personal way, prefering to boast of his assets and his skills.

You don’t get a chance to ask though, because quite suddenly Knockout is rolling down the tinted window as a man with dreadlocks and a flamboyantly bright yellow outfit swaggers towards you with a lazy gait.

“Your time to shine,” Knockout purrs quietly, and then you’re in the spotlight as you plaster a waitress smile on your face and wave at the man who’s walking over. “You’ve been to dozens of races and never lost one yet, so make me look good,” he instructs.

Outwardly, you actually manage to look collected. You even manage to keep down the initial, knee-jerk reaction to splutter and protest and ask a million-and-twelve questions. Who is this guy? What’s he want? What are you supposed to say?

Inwardly, you are screaming with inadequacy. You hope like fuck this guy doesn’t somehow oust you as an imposter; you haven’t driven a real car in years, let alone one like this. You know no racing jargon or anything about this race, you sure hope he doesn’t ask you any car nerd questions because oh man do you know nothing about Knockout’s disguise except it’s model inspiration. You don’t even know how Knockout registered or--

“So you finally decided to show your face, Mystery Marauder,” the man greets as he ducks down to see you, then looks openly surprised. “Well flip me sideways, you’re a lady driver? I get it, I get it sweets, but you’ve got some balls, girl,” he greets with praise, then sticks his hand out to you while you try like fuck to keep a straight face.

“Hey,” you greet. No one knows you here, so you decide you’ll just pretend that for today, your MO is the silent and short on words type. That sounds like it’d be appropriate, anyways, given Knockout’s need to hide the fact he doesn’t typically have a driver. You accept the hand thrust at you, and give it a firm, solid shake.

The man in yellow seems to like that, but he hangs onto your hand for longer than you’d like as he beams down at you with a somewhat leering grin. He’s a little too friendly, you decide.

“That’s it?” he wonders, teases, really. “Just, ‘hey?’ After all the hell you’ve caused me, winning races then fucking off? I mean don’t get me wrong the prize purse has been hella nice but the politics about what to do with it…”

You don’t know what to do except smile, which becomes rather forced when the man tilts your wrist then bends his head down, and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“Do me a favor and stick around for this one, or I might actually get my throat slit,” he tells you with a lilting tone, but his eyes look dead serious. His grip tightens on your hand for just a moment.

“I plan to,” you assure him, adding a wink because honestly you have no fucking clue what else to do except play along. You don’t know anything, so acting like you do will get you in trouble. You just want your hand back and the window rolled up. “See you at the finish line.”

“Yeah? How about after the finish line, I give you a private tour of my garage? Show you the sweet rides in my collection, ever seen a Porsche 911 Carrera RS 3.8?” he asks with a voice you know he means to sound seductive, but suddenly your gut is churning as your smile grows forced, and you tug on your hand.

He doesn’t immediately let your hand go.

“Sorry, my time’s already spoken for.”

“Damn,” he says. “Who’s the lucky chad, or chick, I ain’t judgin’ if you swing another way,” he adds easily, not seeming overly affected by your rejection as he lets go of your hand.

The response blurts out of your mouth before you properly think it through, already so into character you just roll with it. If this guy thinks you’re the real deal, then you think you have a chance to get through today. You only need the ruse to work for a little longer.

“Nothing I love more than a good engine with a loud purr, this sweet ride takes up all my free time,” you say with another wink -- fuck, are you winking too much? You’re probably overdoing it -- then practically jump out of your own skin when Knockout suddenly revs his engine louder than you’ve ever heard it before.

It’s well more than a purr, it’s a downright growl, maybe even a roar, one that rattles the entire car with its thunderous rumble. It sends a bone-shaking vibration right through your entire body as the man who greeted you jerks upright with surprise, then laughs.

The sudden tingle between your legs at the sensation nearly makes you slap the dashboard on reflex, before you remind yourself that there’s no way Knockout realized what he inadvertently did.

The man next to you ducks back down, fortunately having missed your own reaction of surprise while he was distracted with his. You pretend that you were totally the one that did that, on purpose. You also pretend that your underwear isn’t more than a little uncomfortably, distractingly wet. Good lords, what was wrong with you today?

“Bit more than a purr on this one,” the man jokes, then gives the hood of Knockout’s vehicle form an affectionate, and careful, pat. “I’d wish you luck racing, but… Shit, we both know you don’t need it. Hey, thanks for coming. You won me three hundred bucks in a bet,” he says with a grin as he begins to wave you to drive forward.

“I did?” you wonder.

He grins toothily.

“Sure as shit. Guys didn’t think you’d break your silence or show your face, but here you are. I knew you wouldn’t miss this race, ain’t many who can go bumper to bumper with Venom, Koi, and Hacksack. Hey, what’s your actual call sign, while I have your pretty face to chat with for once?”

You should probably have thought things through before you replied, but you didn’t. You were so in the zone, you just rolled with it.

You wink at him again.

“Tell them all to eat my dust, because Knockout’s here to make good on my namesake.”

~*~

“How did I do?” is the first thing she asks when the window rolls up, and Knockout drives forward to the starting line with more eagerness than he’s used to feeling before a race. He feels charged up and ready to go, practically vibrating with energy.

How did she do?

How about winding him up into a half-wild frenzy with her artsy little outfit and her sassy back-talk? How about making him want to snark and banter and blow his cover while she flaunted him off to the meatbag who ran the races?

How about making him want to kiss those pretty, perky lips, because he was finally going to get to burn some rubber against the opponents he’d been trying to run a match against for months?

He definitely was going to pretend he’d never thought that last thought. Humans were absurd-- their alien features so uncomfortably close to his own species, with their familiar silhouette and faces. Her mouth was, arguably, the most relatable part of her entire anatomy short of, perhaps, her hands.

Her sweet, shapely lips looked so soft. He wanted to know just how soft.

“You did fine,” he soothes her as he parks at the stopping line. Predictably, the vehicle next to him immediately rolls down their purple-tinted window. The tattooed man inside calls out a short greeting.

“Don’t you dare roll down the window,” Knockout’s pretty little femme blurts immediately, seizing up as she sits ramrod straight in the seat, and grimaces. “The less people who see my face, the better.”

~*~

“Hmm, they’re not worth wasting your time talking to, anyways,” Knockout purrs with blatant arrogance that should probably annoy you, except against it all, it kind of makes you want to giggle this time.

You smile as you look out the window, feeling just a little bad for ignoring the guy, but his mean expression doesn’t make you feel guilty for long. He flips a middle finger up at you, then rolls his window up.

“Something tells me you don’t make many friends on the race track,” you comment.

“Oh, I’m not here to make friends,” Knockout rumbles with obvious enjoyment. “I’m here to make them eat my tailpipe,” he growls in that voice, that gravelly, scraping, low rumble that shoots fire between your legs as your face warms.

Shit he shouldn’t have such an attractive voice. Shit shit shit you are so lucky he has no idea that--

“Are you alright?” Knockout asks abruptly. “Your face is changing colors.”

Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh no. No, no no nononononoooooo there’s no way you’re explaining your reaction. At least, not the truth.

“Sometimes humans blush when they’re very emotional. I’m very excited for this race,” you fudge a bit; you are, you just don’t need him to know that’s not the particular ‘excitement’ making your skin turn red.

“Interesting. For what purpose? Interspecies communication?”

“I guess? A lot of people wear makeup that makes it look like they’re blushing though, so sometimes it’s just for looks.”

“You don’t appear to be wearing any of the face paint I see other organics wear,” he observes.

“No, I--”

“Race time,” Knockout interrupts with an eager rumble. You jolt in the seat when suddenly, four powerful engines rev at full volume, drowning out the cheers of the crowd that lines either side of the wide stretch of road.

Holy shit it’s loud. Once you’re over the initial shock, you… kind of love it. You can feel the sound rocking through you like pulsing waves, though your sensitive ears are also starting to complain at the volume.

The man in yellow stands in the very center in front of the cars at the racing line, between the two middle-most vehicles so they won’t run him over. He holds a bright red rag in his hand that he lifts up, shouts something-- then drops it.

There’s absolutely no other warning. The instant that little scrap of fabric hits the ground, Knockout shoots out from the starting line with a powerful growl of the engine and a surge of speed that slams you back into his seat.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim as you rocket forward, already having left the crowd well behind. You contort in the seat the moment gravity is no longer forcing you pinned against it, and look behind. “Woah,” you breathe. The other three cars are already several lengths behind, and Knockout smoothly moves to take the very middle of the road as his engine purrs and vibrates through his frame.

“Impressed?” he preens.

“Yeah,” you admit breathlessly, stunned to see the other drivers fall rapidly behind, though they seem to go nose-to-nose with each other to try and take second lead. You’ll let Knockout have this one; he is fast, and it is impressive.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he rumbles. “Now sit normal before you get your spine twisted,” he orders, and you do so just in time to see an orange barrel sitting in the middle of the road up ahead. The tiny shape rapidly becomes larger. “Hold tight, fleshy,” he quips, and then quite suddenly tires are squealing as rubber burns a black smoke around you as the world spins and screeches like a banshee.

 It’s a good thing you threw the seatbelt on, because your slight body strains against the straps as you grab hold of the armrests and brace your feet on the floor. You have no idea what’s happening except your contextual guess of him doing a drifting turn to flip around the orange barrel and reverse his direction. When you come to a slamming stop then yeet forward again, that apparently seems to be exactly what the case was as he builds up momentum rapidly, and shoots past the cars who race past him to take their own, tire-squealing turns.

“Mmmm yes, I do love the smell of burning rubber and exhaust in my lessers’ faces,” Knockout enthuses, still talking in that lower rumble that has your stomach doing flips.

“Y-yeah, that’s, that’s really great,” you stammer lamely instead of the laugh he’d normally have provoked, your voice faint.

He scoffs.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“N-no! No, I mean-- Fuck,” you say contritely, struggling to think. You’re so not going to tell him you’re just flustered as heck right now. “I can’t -- word right. This is cool,” you stammer as the world speeds by and the distant crowd of people rapidly becomes much, much closer.

“And this is cooler,” Knockout boasts, before the steering wheel turns at the same time the clutch moves, and the living vehicle you’re in suddenly swings out and turns, skidding sideways over the finish line with a riot of cheers from the crowd. Rubber squeals until he comes to a stop, facing the direction of the other racers. It’s several long seconds before the first one zooms over the line after the others, shooting past Knockout in a blur of bright green and into his own skidding halt. The others follow suit, and you gasp for breath to come down from the adrenaline high of the century.

Knockout rolls forward once the others have passed him, making his way towards the yellow-suited man as he swaggers out with hands raised.

“My ladies and gentleman and others too many to name!” the man shouts. “WE - HAVE- OUR- WINNEEEERRRRR! Give it up for the fastest, the baddest, the hottest lady on the track-- Knockout!” he bellows.

Your face turns red as you sink into the seat.

“Pleeeeeease tell me no one’s going to recognize me after this,” you beg.

“Of course not, you look like all the other humans,” he remarks carelessly. “Mmm, I do love a crowd screaming my name,” he continues, clueless.

Ouch that stings. Way more than you would have expected it to.

You give his radio a flat look.

“And you look like a Camero to the JPD.”

“What?” he splutters. “I look nothing like a cheap muscle car!” he snarks.

“Not to someone who knows cars! And anyone who is familiar with telling humans apart, might be able to pick me out of a crowd. If I’d known I was going to be your face for the day, I’d have worn makeup to disguise myself!” you snap.

“Hmm, well. I wasn’t sure you’d agree if I asked,” he says, hardly an acceptable excuse, but at least he was honest. Ish.

The yellow man knocks on the tinted glass, forestalling your retort. His wide, toothy grin reminds you to put on one of your own as you quickly sit up straight in the seat. You’ve got to pretend your a badass hotheaded racer who just smoked three other drivers.

You give him your best ‘yeah, I just did that’ smirk of confidence.

“Well well well, and no one is surprised but the three disillusioned losers behind us,” he says with a wink, then hands you a fat white envelope, which you reach out to take. His hand doesn’t immediately let go of it, but this time you were kind of expecting that. It feels somehow like some kind of MO for him. “Listen, there’s another race next weekend, out on the flat stretch on the East end of town. We’re shutting down some streets to make an interesting course, you in?” he asks.

The engine of the very much alive vehicle you’re sitting in rumbles a little louder for a moment.

“What time and where?” you dutifully ask, and he lets go of the money.

“Got a cell? I’ll text you the details once I get them from Jackie,” he says, and immediately goosebumps raise up on the back of your neck.

“Nah.”

“Email?” he tries, a little more uncertainly this time. Your smile becomes forced.

“Nah.”

“...A’ight, a'ight. How about you meet me at the Corner Cafe on Wednesday, six O’ clock, and I’ll give you the info in person?”

“I’ll think about it,” you lie, already knowing your answer is no.

“You do that, Knockout… Damn fitting name. I’ll see you at the next race,” he winks, then steps away, and the window scrolls up.

“Get me out of here,” you say immediately, voice hushed, skin crawling.

“Bugger him,” Knockout says with annoyance as he slowly rolls forward and turns, the crowd that’s now broken free from the roadsides swarming the street around the racers. “He always knows when the next race is, why didn’t he tell us?”

You have to fight off the urge to laugh at the image of Knockout trying to follow the event organizer around hoping to overhear him tell someone about the race, wondering how he even finds out about them.

“He was a little too distracted trying to force me to go on a date with him,” you say with a scrunched nose, watching the other three drivers get out of their vehicles to talk to people. One of them, the man in the purple sports car who’d flipped you off, stops to stare as Knockout rolls past.

“Wait, what?” the ‘bot in question splutters.

“A date. It’s--”

“I know what a date is,” he snarks. “I didn’t realize that obtuse neon mile marker was trying to woo you. He’s not very good at it,” he scoffs.

This time, you laugh a little as you leave the people behind, and you shrug off the nasty glares the other drivers treated you and Knockout to.

“No, no he wasn’t.”

“I know how to get your heart racing,” Knockout purrs, in that voice.

Oh no. Oh fuck. He knows you--

You’re slammed back into the seat when his engine revs suddenly, and he rockets forward with an impressive amount of speed, much like he did back at the starting line. After the initial momentary shock, you find yourself feeling giddy as you laugh, relieved. He doesn’t know after all, but he is right.

You’ve always been a bit of a speed demon. You just never had an outlet for it before.

“How fast can you drive?” you wonder as the world races by at an impossible blur, and you glance at his dashboard gauges. You’re already well past one hundred and rapidly creeping up.

“Would you like to find out?” Knockout invites.

You bite the inside of your lip as your heart pounds.

“Yeah.”

~*~

It’s a fairly lackluster response, but that’s fine-- Knockout’s come to realize his human tends to lose her articulation when she’s excited or distressed, and he’s more than happy to burn some fuel as he races forward. Oh, today felt good.

His engine rumbled with a pleasing purr of harmonics as he let the giddy vibrations travel through his frame, reveling in the speed and power of hard, hot machinery under his hood. He didn’t accelerate as fast as he’d like to, out of consideration for his passenger. And also his upholstery; cleaning gravity-crushed human bits out of his leather did not sound appealing in the slightest.

Once they blew past the hundred and eighty marker, his human started to shift on her seat like she was uncomfortable; she no longer looked out the windows at the blurring landscape with rapt, undivided attention. Her awed gaze turns distracted as she keeps glancing around, like she was afraid of someone seeing them.

“Are you alright?” he wonders. He’d slow his speed if he thought that was the issue, but after watching her for a few moments, he resumed acceleration; her distress seemed more like she was thinking about something. She didn’t show any signs of pain, just a fidgety discomfort as her gaze flicked out the windows.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yes, fine, I’m fine,” she answers quickly.

A little too quickly.

“Hmm,” he hums, considering her.

“Woah, you’re-- you’re past two hundred. Wait, what if there’s wildlife?” she asks with sudden alarm.

Knockout scoffs.

“There’s no lifeforms on my radar in danger of being splattered.” She looks relieved at that, a tiny smile appearing back on her lips.

His engine roars louder as the speed increases, and quite suddenly, the human sits up straight in her seat then does a funny, hop-slide motion with her hips as she readjusts herself like something had pinched her. She settles immediately after, looking more comfortable, until Knockout spots the shockingly bright shade of red that’s slowly spreading over her face.

Until he’d become acquainted with her, he’d never seen the phenomenon up close  before, and it never failed to bizarrely fascinate him how their skin could change color.

“Excited?” he purrs, pleased to find a fellow enthusiast who could appreciate the same things he did; not terribly many decepticons had much respect for ground-alt vehicles, no matter how important they were to operations.

At least he didn’t eat four soldier’s worth of Energon every month just to keep his fuel tanks from going dry and locking his joints up.

“U-uh, yeah,” his human tag-along stammers, not quite the enthused reaction he was expecting. He studies her face as they rocket over the two-hundred-and-fifty mark, the world zipping past them in a satisfying blur.

“What, have I rendered you speechless?” he wonders with an audible smirk.

Curiously, her face turns even redder.

“Uuhh…”

“That sounds like a yes.”

“Y-yeah, yeah that’s a ye- holy SHIT you’re over three hundred? Are we going to run out of road?” she gasps.

“Eventually. This stretch cuts through the desert for miles.”

“W-wow,” she breathes, then abruptly undoes the seatbelt and lifts her soft body off his seat. She pulls her knees onto the upholstery, mindful of her shoe bottoms, and looks out the window.

A faint scent tickles Knockout’s sensors as she moves, one that nearly makes his engine shift gears with surprise as his cooling vents kick up into overdrive.

So that’s what she meant when she said she was… excited.

~*~

“You enjoy going fast,” Knockout comments in his usual suave tone.

Clueless that the mech has caught on, you easily agree with a bob of your head.

“I like controlled speed,” you clarify. “Going fast when you think you’re about to die isn’t any fun. But speed when I can just enjoy it? Oh yeah, big fan, I could get used to this,” you hum thoughtlessly.

Boy, could you.

The wet mess in your underwear certainly says you could, though that part you’d rather pretend didn’t exist. It’s way easier now that you’ve changed to kneeling, the tormenting vibrations no longer stimulating you relentlessly.

“Why don’t you sit down and relax then, and let me give you a show?” Knockout invites, and the instant he does, every hair on your body stands up on end with goosebumps as you glance surreptitiously at the radio. You’re pretty sure the suggestive wording from the literal robot wasn’t intentional, but…

That certainly doesn’t stop your thoughts from diving right into the gutter.

“U-uuh…” you hesitate to agree-- the idea of sitting down again on the shaped seat is certainly appealing. A little too appealing, and you’d failed to find a way to sit normally that didn’t still tease and torment you.

For that same reason, it’s actively something you desperately want to avoid doing, embarrassed beyond belief enough as it is. The steady vibration of his engine manages to shake through your legs in just the right manner, and while you’ve never minded that in a vehicle before…

This isn’t a vehicle.

“It’s not safe to be sitting like that,” Knockout chides, sealing your fate as you try your damndest to keep a straight face. You don’t have a good response to that, because quite technically, he’s correct.

“Uh, right,” you agree, and awkwardly shuffle yourself back into a normal seating position, thighs squeezed tight to try and keep the vibration off your core as you adjust.

It doesn’t work. Teasing vibrations torment you as you forcibly try to ignore them.

~*~

“I think I’m ready to go home,” the femme quietly falling apart on his seat finally blurts, admitting some level of defeat as they rocket down the road at near top speed. With only a handful of precious seconds left of this stretch to safely make this breakneck run, he’s not giving up the chance to leave the throttle wide open.

How amusing something so natural and thrilling to him inspired such mutual… excitement in another.

“Oh?” Knockout asks, drawing it out as his frame heats with the force of friction,

If he were an ordinary Earth vehicle, his tires would have melted so many miles ago. He just starts to feel the heat in overtaxed rubber as his engine rumbles with a steady, harmonic hum.

Top speed, without any stretch to push just that bit beyond. He missed Velocitron’s endless, looping tracks, where he could throw the throttle wide all day if he had the Energon for it, and never stop except to cool his rims.

“Yeah, it’s-- Um, it’s been a long day, and also I’m pretty sure this is illegal and if someone--”

“They can’t see through the glass, remember?” he taunts.

“Yeah, but I just put a face to this pretty car at that racing show. I flaunted your reputation tonight-- please be careful with mine,” she says, downright primly, in an assertive manner that would usually annoy him, except he’s caught up on her words. “You just slapped a human ‘owner’ on your car identity, and it’s me.”

Quite technically, she’s correct.

He tries to decide if he cares or not. Does he? It’s important to her, ergo, it would displease her if he treated it any less. And he wasn’t going to get her to slip him into any more car rallies if she despised him, so being on her good side was a must to that end.

He sighs.

“Very well,” he grouses, slowing down in speed.

“Thank you,” she says. “Also… thank you-- for, uuuh… I guess for breaking the law with me,” she laughs nervously. “This… This was pretty fun. You’re a bad influence,” she says with a shy grin.

Oh-hoh, there’s a rebel in you yet, he thinks.

~*~

The air in Knockout’s cabin space, you swear, is getting stuffier the longer the drive takes, even though the ride out had been clean, freshly cycled air.

You really hope his species doesn’t have a sense of smell. You don’t need to have a dog’s nose to catch your own arousal’s sweet perfume, and arousal that was more or less driving you absolutely mad by the time you say goodbye to your alien… friend? You think that’s what he is, because some stupid part of you really somehow likes his company, even though you really hate the life and death peril it’s frightened you with.

“Well… Drive safe home, I guess, wherever home is,” you say with somewhat awkward fondness as you stand up out of Knockout’s low vehicle disguise, free at last. The air is balmy tonight, and the stars are mostly obscured overhead by thick, gray clouds. The race had squeaked in just before the coming rains.

“Hmm, it’s a short drive with superior teleportation technology,” Knockout boasts, but this time, all you do is smile. You’re getting used to his theatrics.

“Yeah, that is pretty nifty. It’d cut my time down driving to work so much. Also… Hey, thanks for this,” you add, holding up the envelope with a little wiggle.

“Not even going to count it? What if he stiffed you, hmm?” Knockout taunts. He doesn’t make any move to roll out of your driveway yet, so you find yourself likewise hesitating, rooted to the spot as you chat by his window.

“I mean… If I was worried about that I would have counted it first thing, once I was inside you,” you say, and boy, could you have worded that better for your stupid little gutter brain.

How you manage to keep a reaction from your face or from choking on your own breath in a terrible wheeze, you don’t know. Maybe adrenaline.

The envelope in your hand feels heavy. If it’s the twenties and fifties you’re hoping for, it’ll be enough to take care of a lot of things right away.

“What if I’m about to stiff you, if I drive off never to be seen again, and there isn’t enough there to put new wheels under you?” Knockout prompts.

Is he drawing out the goodbye? You think he is, and quite abruptly, you remember something you’d forgotten. Or, more accurately, you’d chosen to shove out of your mind until you couldn’t outrun it any longer.

You hesitate, then reach out and pat the top of his candy red canopy.

“You can come by to visit again… if you promise to make sure no more near death experiences come my way, preferably? I’m down for a few races now and then and hanging out.”

His engine revs.

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” he purrs. “It’s a date, then.” Before you could quite react, he rapidly rolled out from under your hand, backing up in a quick pivot. “See you next weekend, doll.”

You’re left standing on your driveway with your hand still not quite lowered, and not quite raised, staring at the direction he’d driven off with a dumbfounded expression.

You were right; he was just drawing out the goodbye. The instant he knew he’d have more time with you again, off he went.

You look down at the fat envelope in your hand, then self consciously look around, before slipping into your house.

You consider the merits of moving, or maybe getting a second residence to swap between. Maybe if there’s enough left over after fixing yourself up with new transportation, you’ll look for a place to take out a loan for. Though your initial thought had been focused on moving for your own safety and to get away from aliens and all the trouble that came with them by proxy…

…you find yourself daydreaming how Knockout might react to being surprised with a garage he could actually stand up in. He’s never outright complained about your short ceilinged, two-car garage on any of his visits, but you can tell it’s not very comfortable.

You sigh, catching your own thoughts. You are so hopeless.

Safely indoors, you sit down on your sofa after closing the curtains, then open up the envelope.

The first bill on the stack has Benjamin’s face peeking at you from the envelope seam.

Your heart thuds.

You pull the stack out.

You intend to count, but honestly, after the first brush of your thumb smooths a clean, crisp fan of nothing but hundred dollar bills, you feel a little lightheaded and dizzy. You’d expected several hundred to maybe a few thousand dollars when Knockout told you about the race, then excitedly upped that estimate a bit when you actually felt the weight of the prize money in your hands.

But you’d still only expected a sum enough to cover your totaled bike and maybe some funds left over, not…

not…

You just kinda, pour the cash out over your lap and stare at it, dumbfounded.

“Holy… shit,” you breathe.

And Knockout was just… driving off? You supposed he didn’t have much need for Earth money, though you wondered if he ever needed to buy gas. Could his alt mode even safely take gasoline? You weren’t sure if he’d be weirded out by you asking, but you were curious now.

But then there was the shimmery blues and golds and greens laying on your lap, dumbfounding you.

“Holy shit,” you say again, because aren’t you just so articulate tonight?

That’s about when one of your cats wakes you up from your stupor, because Gizmo hops up from the ground onto the sofa. A white-tipped paw sloooowly reaches for the bills on your lap.

You jerk a bit, blink, and gently bop his paw away with the tip of your finger.

“No, not for kitties,” you admonish gently. Yellow eyes stare up at you unblinkingly, before he finally blinks and looks away, then turns and saunters off.

You take a deep breath, then shakily begin gathering all the cash up. You…

…really hope this money was all legally acquired.

Oh, lords.

What had you gotten yourself into?

bruce wayne/reader drabble

i was bored during a road trip and wrote this in notepad. it's not finished and not proofread 😊 i might work on it later, maybe won't.

Batman had never given you anything other than a blank stare or glare, depending on what time it was and what part of 31st Street you were on and whether or not he had saw you eat breakfast that morning. Today was a blank glare sort of day. You’d just gotten off your shift at the hospital, too tired to pay attention to the dark, shadowy streets of Gotham while you walked to the parking lot because these damn New England streets and their limited parking space never felt benevolent enough to give you a spot within a half a mile radius of the hospital. Then the shadows step out from the alleyway, and you manage a half-assed grunt of acknowledgement instead of the scream you let out the first time he walked you to your car. In his defense, though, he had told you that day what would be waiting for you that night. …In yours, you’d been half asleep and he was really warm and all you wanted was some quality time with your husband before he inevitably got up and started the day. You'd been curled up to him as you usually were in the morning, before either of you had to be up and about. He'd just come home from patrol, those blue eyes of his rubbed clean of the eye makeup the Batman demanded. The sun had been up for a while and it came in through the windows of your shared room, finally annoying you enough to make you turn over and seek shelter in Bruce's side of the bed. He had been awake for a while- he didn't need to be out till two, the lucky thing. He rubbed your hair, earning a sleepy sound of affection from you and a smile from him. "Love," he says, his voice deep and hoarse from sleep but also that stupid, husky Batman voice. It's enough to make you stir, blinking at him sleepily. "I'm going to walk you home from work tonight." He says quietly, massaging your skull- and honestly, how could he expect you to stay awake when those big, warm hands of his were so attentive and gentle? He chuckled when he saw your eyes drooping again, resigning. "Go back to sleep, lovey." He murmurs, tucking you close to his chest. You really didn't have much in you to disobey. So truly, it wasn't anyone's fault but Bruce's that you'd hollered when he came out of nowhere and stared. He very nearly broke character then- you swear you saw a laugh in his eyes, or saw a gloved hand twitch in your direction.

Since then, he's been walking you to your car and invisibly shadowing you- literally- on your drive home. You've grown to be fond of these little walks. Usually, you'd only ever see him in the morning and when he got home from patrol. Though it wasn't a Sunday morning together, a couple minutes to be in each other's presence was calming. You'd never admit it to him, but you've started to purposefully park further and further away from the hospital, just for a few more moments with your husband. You wished that he'd hug you, hold your hand, at the very least say something- but you weren't about to complain. You knew the lengths he went to, for you and Gotham. It was best to keep your mouth shut and be apperciative. You tucked your water bottle underneath your arm as you unlocked your car and got into the car without so much as a goodbye from Bruce. You know he'd properly talk to you once he got him in- you checked the clock in your car- three hours. You started the car up and looked out the window, expecting Bruce to maybe be lingering there, but he already slipped back into the shadows. You sighed silently before starting the drive back to Wayne Manor. Just two more weeks of this, you told yourself. You and Bruce had been married for six months, and you'd be leaving your job in two weeks because, well, the whole 'being married to a billonaire' thing made going to work useless. Thank the gods. It was burning you out at a rapid pace- a domestic life with Bruce was what had kept you going for a while.

You pulled into the parking lot of Wayne Manor, saying hello to Alfred before retiring to the master bedroom. Three hours to kill before you went downstairs to greet Bruce as he got off patrol. You took a hot bath, changed into something more cozy than your scrubs, and curled on your bed and watched your favorite show while waiting for the tell-tale sound of the Batmobile pulling in. You had almost dozed off when you heard the signature rumble of the engine downstairs. With a yawn, you shuffled into your house slippers and slipped through a secret passageway in Bruce's study to the Batcave. You heard chatter downstairs- Dick and the others came for an after-patrol visit, most likely. "Brucie," you said with a yawn, your vison blurred with sleep as you rubbed it away, going down the stairwell. "How was patrol?" You finally take in your surroundings, which makes you promptly freeze on the stairs. There stood the Justice League in all their shiny glory. They looked out of place in Bruce's Broodcave, too shiny and bright for the gloom down in the cave. It made you blink a few times, made you wonder if maybe you were asleep. But no. Green Lantern is the first to break, with an astounded gasp. "You have a partner?!" He all but shouts, his voice echoing around the cave. "Yes." Bruce says gruffly. You pause on the staircase, unsure of what to do, looking to Bruce for any sort of help, but his gaze is trained on his team members. "Why didn't you tell us?" Superman says. He almost sounds hurt. "It didn't seem relevant." Your husband says. Wonder Woman is the first to try to right things. "It's great to meet you," she says kindly, giving you a smile. You return the smile, albeit a little nervously. "You, too." You says, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady. Then you share the smile to the rest of the Justice League, wanting at the very least to stay friendly, even if you'd rather hide behind Bruce and go back to your normal nightly routine. "Well… I'll be upstairs, honey." You say finally, going back up the staircase and back into Bruce's study, waiting for him in your bedroom, picking apart every part of the interaction in your mind quietly as you settle under the sheets. It's at least half an hour until Bruce comes into your bedroom, changed out of the Batsuit and into something a lot softer. He climbs into his side of the bed, crawling next to you and kissing your face. "They liked you." He murmurs. "Did they?" You whisper back, unbelieving. "Yeah. They thought you were sweet. They were pissed at me for not telling them I was married, though." He says, cupping your hips in his hands as he rests his chin on your chest, looking up at you with those big eyes of his, black makeup still smudged around his eyes. "Yeah?" You hummed, running your hands through his floppy hair. "Go wash off the night, soldier." You tell him. "Yes, sir," he murmurs, pulling himself off of you, albeit a little reluctantly, and padding over to the bathroom. He comes back with his eyes clean and his hair wetted, the grease he uses to keep it in the cowl washed clean. He settles back on top of you, nesting his face in the crook of your neck and pressing a kiss there, his arms tucking underneath you and holding onto your waist. You hum happily and brush his hair from out of his eyes, twirling it around your fingers and watching it flop back into place.

Remember Me Once More | Ted Shackleford (The Man in The Yellow Hat) x f. Reader

description: He stayed. You left. 6 years after your last meeting, a game of circumstance lands you in the same room as him - and his monkey. With 2 weeks of working in close proximity, things are bound to come to light. The question is, how will he perceive it?

word count: 14.7k

warnings: they are both idiots!!! who are in love!!! angsty feelings, cursing a lot of talk of canada and the us as well as culinary schools (i did my research but i'm not from either of those places so pls forgive me if some things are wrong), some words are in italian because the pisghettis, awkward conversations, ted is a nerdy dilfy hotshot museum director, reader is a chef, sex fantasies (a LOT of them), they get trapped in a room, many many apologies, flashbacks to college, it's never explained but ted calls oc chowder, oc has two moms because we love diversity, brief mention of 'the office' and julius the monkey, sweet confessions, SO MUCH KISSING!!, cheesy lines are exchanged, boners, ted has a big virgin dick, experienced reader, oral sex (male and female recieving), a bit of a hair kink, clit play, ted is a bit too excited sometimes, bickering like they're an old married couple, reader has an iud, unprotected sex (do not try!! i repeat, do not try!!), several orgasms, creampies (yes, creampieS), missionary, riding, they act like horny teenagers, ted's butt deserves its own warning so here it is, brief mentions of bath sex, old wounds finally heal, the three of them are basically a family, public speaking, y/n is a bit unhinged, more sweet confessions, allusions to exhibition (pls keep in mind this is my first smut fic, be kind!!)

cover by: me (illustrations featured belong to their rightful owners)

note: I do not regret this book nor do I condone it. Fueled by Ted TikToks, inspired by 'Maroon' by Taylor Swift and 'Don’t You Remember?' by Adele.

Ted Shackleford was not a malevolent person.

Ask anyone and everyone who knew him; he was the last person to hold a grudge against anyone. His monkey had flooded his apartment - thrice! But his response every time he discovered George scratching his head uncomfortably and awkwardly giggling amid the soapy bubbles and rubber duckies surrounding him was to just sigh before proceeding to clean the place.

But you? You were a different story. Every time he recalls the blurry memory of you walking away from him - the last time he ever saw you - he only vividly remembers the anger bubbling up inside his chest. He only remembers the deep frown etched on his face, and the furrowing of his eyebrows as he dug his nails into his palm. Was it selfish to only recall what he felt at that moment, rather than the sight of you hurriedly making your way to your plane without sparing him another glance? To look back on perhaps the most significant turning point in his life and only focus on his emotions rather than figuring out why you left in the first place?

He didn't know. And, to be quite frank, a part of him doesn't care. Altruism was his one principle in life and constantly bent over backward 24/7 to make everyone happy; surely he could afford to be unkind in this one avenue.

But...

Some nights - including tonight - he thinks of the other memories you shared. That elementary school Halloween party, where you warned him that he was going to get teased relentlessly for dressing up as Percy Shelley (whom he was weirdly obsessed with back then), but come the day you surprised everyone by strolling in as Mary - Frankenstein plush and all in your hand. Yeah, you both still got ridiculed by all the Scooby-Doos and Rugrats in your class, but no bullying could have deterred the warmth he felt inside when you leaned over and whispered, "It's either both of us or none of us."

There was also that day in freshman year when you guys cycled through town, the sun setting behind you as you rushed home to make it in time for curfew. How you'd tripped over a train track and he'd tried his best to clean and dress the small gash on your knee, and how you looked at him as if he'd hung up the stars in the sky to accompany the moon when he matched his pace to yours and made it home extremely late. He'd gotten scolded, but it didn't matter. Not as long as you were safe. Besides, all was forgiven when you presented him with a history book in addition to his favorite cookies over a week later. The book inspired him to pursue history and eventually landed him a career as a museum director at the Met. Without you, he doesn't know how he wouldn't have gotten here.

It's that exact realization, however, that causes him to shift to his side on the bed and shake off all thoughts of you. He was approaching 30, for god's sake, and had a life to think about now rather than you; the one that got away. He lists them all in his head: a rambunctious monkey not even the age of 3, the meeting he has tomorrow for his new gallery opening, his friends... If it meant that, to focus, he had to drown out his thoughts (and the feeling of your soft lips pressing against his that one time) to the sound of George peacefully snoring in the room beside him, then so be it.

You had to remain in the past because Ted doesn't have space for you in his future.

The last thing you want to be confronted with after your tedious 6-hour flight to New York City is bitter coffee, but of course, that is what you get. The minute the foul-tasting liquid grazes your taste buds you spit it out onto the pavement, where the crowds don't even bother reacting to your gross public act of self-humiliation. It is at that moment when you truly feel like you are in New York, never mind the countless welcoming posters you'd seen passing through the airport. Being back in America after half a dozen years abroad felt dizzying - like something you'd spent so long carrying with you around British Columbia had finally lifted itself from your shoulders when you landed. You finally felt at home.

That being said, you weren't here for good just yet. Everything that you owned was still tied up in your apartment back in Vancouver, it depended on the outcome of your upcoming interview on whether or not you'd be moving here permanently. In the meantime, you'd spend the next few days here exploring the Apple; it's unlikely, but perhaps you could secure some last-minute Broadway tickets, or take a gander through the Central Park Zoo, or maybe even go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Right now though, the coffee had done nothing and you were more focused on getting to your hotel and crashing into the comfortable bed. Jetlag was a bitch, but it was one you were willing to give into.

After checking in, the concierge handed you a bunch of pamphlets on things to do while you're in New York before smiling and sending you on your way. Leaning against the elevator wall, luggage in tow, you flipped through them. You stop at the Met's in particular; despite being a culinary student, a dear old friend had gotten you somewhat interested in history and museums have kind of drawn you in since. You unfolded the paper, glazing your tired eyes over the words, briefly looking over the pictures.

Until you spot a familiar face staring back at you.

In your confusion, you bring the paper closer to your face. Surely it couldn't be - oh my god, it is. Your 'dear old friend' was right there on the paper, smiling and beckoning you to visit with a small monkey on his shoulder. Right as the elevator pinged, you folded the paper and removed the picture from your sight. Slight change of plans, you thought internally as you walked towards your hotel room. Maybe you wouldn't be visiting the Met after all.

"George! I'm home!" Ted yelled, walking inside and setting his keys into the designated bowl, and hanging his hat up on the hook. The day had been grueling, some cuddles with his favorite non-human in the world were all he was looking forward to. George was equally as excited to catch the man in the yellow hat up on his day; he'd spent his time playing with Hundley and one of the things they did together was making a mess in George's bedroom. Ted groaned, muttered 'I'll clean this up later,' under his breath before scooping the primate up in his arms and settling down on the couch. Together, they watched a few episodes of the show they'd started before Ted left to go shower.

As the water trickled down his body and he lathered the shampoo onto his hair, Ted recounted key points from his meeting. The new Invention of Cooking exhibit would be one of their grandest yet; aside from collecting hundreds of utensils, tools, and recipes from all around the world and from different points in history, they would also be flying in top culinary experts and food history enthusiasts for the opening. Having so many people come in and also having the entire gallery focused on food itself meant that they would have to bring caterers in, and obviously, Ted knew no one better to perform the task than the Pisghettis. He'd have to drop by their restaurant after work tomorrow to discuss the appetizers, main course, and dessert platters that they'd be serving. Aside from that, there were still a bajillion other things to do and only a month left to do it. He was losing his mind the more often he was left alone with it.

Once he got out, he tied a towel along his waist and ran another through his hair before making his way to the kitchen to make dinner. He only needed to heat up what he'd made the day before anyway, so he split the leftovers into two bowls and threw them in the microwave. While it was in there, he changed into his loose sleeveless shirt paired with his boxers; all his signature yellow. He made his way back to the kitchen before calling George over, and they made light conversation as they ate.

Later on in the evening, when Ted had read him his favorite bedtime story and tucked him into bed, he clambered onto the balcony and started to water his mini-garden. Halfway into this routine, he paused and looked beyond the railings to the brightly lit streets below him. In combination with the chill air, it was enough to make even the toughest day seem so distant from where he was now. Keyword: was. Ted had originally purchased the apartment solely for the view, but now he just felt lonely gazing down at it. He wished he had someone to share it with. There was always George, and he wouldn't trade that little guy for anything, but you could only converse with a monkey so many times. He longed for someone to be by his side, to have deep conversations, and also to joke around with. Someone who could do more than nod and make a few, albeit cute, sounds.

His mind flickers to an image of you for a millisecond. Then, he finishes watering all the plants and shuffles towards his cold, empty bed for another night.

You knock on the door anxiously, your gaze focused on the couple sitting at the dinner table in front of you. "Excuse me, I'm here for the interview?"

"Ah, you must be Y/N!" Netti, as you learn her name to be, says as she leads you to where her husband is sitting. "How was the flight, dear? Thank you for visiting on such short notice."

You wave her off, "My pleasure, I've been meaning to visit here anyway. You guys did me a favor!" Uh-oh. Was that too much? Possibly too little? They didn't seem to mind, both of them making polite conversation with you as Chef Pisghetti contentedly petted the kitten on his lap. They were extremely nice, you'd noted. Much better than some of the past bosses you'd had. At least, you'd hope they would be your bosses. Another thing you noticed was how each time one was speaking, the other would put their undivided attention on them and their eyes shone with adoration. It showed just how comfortable and in love they were with each other, and a fuzzy feeling filled your chest.

"Let's get into business, Y/N," Pisghetti says once the conversation fizzles out. "Your resume's extremely impressive; 4 years of school in Le Cordon Bleu and The Culinary Arts School of Ontario? Apprenticeship at the CN Tower? Ammazza! You're brilliant!" He grins sheepishly and you smile back in return. "I have one question though," He makes an inquisitive face.

"Yes?" Stress builds in your chest, scared of what was to come.

He throws his hands in the air excitedly. "When can you start?"

That's how you find yourself getting a pseudo-training session from the two for the rest of the time. The restaurant was closed for the day, so you got to learn the layout of their kitchen, how Pisghetti cannot accept anything less than perfection (which suits you fine anyway being a perfectionist yourself), and even take a tour through their spectacular rooftop garden. A lush green farm amidst the busy streets of New York, could you imagine? Most importantly of all, you learn about Gnocchi, the Pisghetti's kitten. The cutie had been saved from a tree by one of their firefighter friends a few months back, and once the pair had seen her they couldn't look back. Gnocchi was now part of their routine and soon would be a part of yours too. Everything revolved around the spoiled but loveable creature.

By the time it rolled around to half past 5, the Pisghetti's handed you some food so you wouldn't have to spend another day eating cup noodles and microwaveable mac and cheese and allowed you to hang your apron up. However, just as you said your goodbyes and were about to walk through the kitchen door, you heard a jingle come from the main dining area. "That's weird," You said to Netti and the chef went out to greet whoever came by. "Weren't you guys closed?"

"Don't worry about it tesoro mio, it's probably our friends. They told us they were going to drop by."

You nodded your head and hugged Netti one last time before making your way to the front entrance. At first, the odd and lanky yellow shape didn't register as anything familiar in your peripheral vision. It was only when the figure turned around to acknowledge you that you felt the wind get knocked out of your lungs. Your mouth felt dry and your knees felt weak as your eyes snagged onto those of the man in front of you. You felt zaps from his staring register in your brain, sending tingles down your spine to the tips of your toes.

Who knew that after so long, Ted Shackleford would still have the same effect on you?

It was strange. He always thought that, if he saw you again, he'd feel the same anger and resentment as he did when you left. But as your eyes connect and lock onto yours, all he feels is the sharp pain of old wounds reopening. An eternal flame of longing was reignited within him, surrounded by a moat of suffering.

After picking George up from Professor Wiseman's office after work, they made the journey to the Pisghetti's diner so that he could muck around for a bit with Gnocchi and Ted could discuss the menu for the opening with the chef. He'd called in beforehand to ask them if he should drop by the apartment or the restaurant, and they told him they'd be in the latter. Something about an interview with a girl who flew in? He didn't know. Forget pushing it to the back of his head, he'd thrown the piece of information out completely.

Pushing through the red door, the duo was soon joined by Pisghetti. George soon ran off once he spotted Gnocchi, making happy little monkey noises while doing so, whereas Ted settled down with Pisghetti and they had a light banter. "Like I was saying, Chef," Ted said. "I want you to go all out with this. Give it the full Pisghetti treatment. I'm thinking maybe 5 courses if you're up for it, some cleansers in between."

The cook nodded excitedly as he launched into his plan. "I've already been testing for this one recipe - I'll probably serve it as an appetizer - something I'm calling my giardino sliders. Oh, you'll love it! È magnifico!"

Had it not been for him keeping an eye out for George, he probably wouldn't have noticed the figure quietly making her way out of the kitchen. But he did. And once his eyes spotted her, his face turned to her and his jaw dropped. Pisghetti was unbothered at first, but once he realized the other wasn't responding anymore, his head shot up and he looked between the two of you, not sending the tension. "Ah, Y/N, this is Ted. He's a friend of mine. Teddy, this is Y/N - our new hire." He paused for a moment. "Hey, since she's going to help me make all of this anyway, maybe Y/N should join us here. What do you think?" Before either could reply, Netti called her husband from the kitchen and he shuffled his way to her.

Then, for the first time in 6 years, you and Ted Shackleford were in the same room together.

It was the latter that first broke the ice. "Y/N..."

"Please don't say anything." You mumble out, clearly uncomfortable as you shift from one leg to the other.

Ted's heart sank. He'd say this is not how he'd envisioned your reunion, but that would mean he'd have to admit he imagined it in the first place.

"I'm sorry, so sorry, that sounded rude as hell." You say, shaking your head. "I mean, please don't tell Chef Pisghetti anything. I really, really need this job, Ted." You stared at him with your pleading eyes. Ted could only nod in return.

"Um, anyway. How- how are you?" You say, biting your lip.

"Good. Uh, I'm a museum director now. At the Met. Metropolitan Museum. Of Art." He choked out, barely being able to form a coherent thought.

"Yeah, I saw a picture. You had a monkey in your hands and said something about coming by for an exciting afternoon."

"That's George, he's actually mine. In fact, he's around here somewhere. Where'd he go? George?"

After a few seconds, you felt a tug at the hem of your dress. You looked down to see the young simian from the pamphlet happily meeting your sight before rushing to sit on Ted's lap. "I adopted him about 2 years ago, he's been with me since." He said while George nuzzled into the man's arms (is it logical to be jealous of a monkey?).

You genuinely grin, "He's sweet. Wasn't expecting you to have a monkey but I guess it makes sense."

"I really don't think you have a clue about who I am." He replied, almost snappily. His eyes widen as he realizes the implications of his words.

Silence. Your heart pounded inside of your chest.

Chef Pisghetti thankfully walked in at that moment, "Mi dispiace, Netti was having some trouble with one of the recipes - or rather, some trouble reading my handwriting." He giggled to himself. "Anyway, Y/N, I've kept you waiting long enough. You can go, I understand you're tired. You can join us for another meeting, see you tomorrow. Ciao!" He said.

Nodding your head meekly and uttering out a soft 'thanks', you hurried out of there. You weren't tired, actually, but you couldn't stand being around Ted for another second. Could this get any worse?

Lucky for you, Ted didn't come back the next day. The entire week, really. Or the next. George would pop by from time to time, with you quickly getting fond of the silly guy, but his owner (dad?) was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was for the best. You don't need to be digging up any trauma, especially right now.

This good luck streak would end when Pisghetti asked you to hand deliver a parcel. To Ted. At the Met. It was cruel, how life was treating you. After two weeks of blissfully testing and experimenting with recipes once the restaurant had closed, fate had decided you were having too much of a fun time and sent down a terrible idea to shake things up a little, knowing you couldn't say no. You sigh as you hold the large box in your hands and climbed up the steps, hoping to get it over and done with as quickly as possible. It was once again after 5 and you craved nothing but the leftovers in the fridge (nowadays, you prefer to leave the cooking at work) and the new season of your favorite show.

"Excuse me, ma'am," An old white man dressed in an even whiter lab coat approached you. "No food allowed on the premises, please."

"Ah, I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding," You say, reasoning with him. "These are for Ted. Ted Shackleford? I believe he's the director?"

The man nodded his head in understanding, "Ah, yes! You must be the Pisghettis' new girl. Sorry for not realizing sooner, I'm Alvin Einstein. No relation to the big one, unfortunately. This way!" He said, leading you through some smaller almost unnoticeable doors along the wall to get to the director's office faster.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but you must not be local if you don't know who Ted is," Alvin pointed out as he ushered you inside the employee elevator. "Not that he's that well-known but people do recognize him in these parts."

"Yeah, I just came here from Ontario." You say in response, focusing on the ascending numbers as you got closer and closer to his office. "Started the job about two weeks ago."

Alvin nodded, briefly told you about the time he visited Ontario with his wife, and when the elevator reached its destination bid you off. "To the left!" He said. "You wouldn't miss it!" You face that direction as the doors of the lift close behind you and see a big door next to a plaque emblazoned with the words 'Director's Office - Theodore Shackleford' in gold. He was right, you couldn't miss it no matter how much you wanted to. You walk over and lift your hand, knocking once, twice, thrice.

You wait for a heartbeat before a faint 'Come in,' is heard from inside. You open the door and come face to face with Ted, sitting only a few feet away behind his giant desk with his reading glasses on his face. For one tiny split second that you would take to your grave, you imagine sucking him off underneath it as he takes an important call - beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as his glasses fog up - he'd clench his jaw, desperate to not moan and ruin your cover. God, he looked so fucking hot in his seat, even the absurd yellow suit draping over his curves and muscles deliciously.

His words snap you out of reality. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was expecting the Chef, I would've cleaned up a bit more had I known it was you. Come, sit. You're just in time for, err, linner?" He motions toward the seat in front of him, taking off his glasses to your disappointment.

You are about to protest when Ted shrugs you off. "Listen, I- I wanted to apologize. That was really rude of me to snap at you like that. You know that I'm not that type of person." He says, fiddling his thumbs.

"It's okay. Really, I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"For not telling the Chef anything. I don't really want to go back to Ontario; I'm kind of dreading picking up all my stuff. Had you said anything about our history, I could have been let go. I mean, he's your friend. He'd do anything to make you happy."

"Y/N," he sighed, rubbing his temples. Despite his tone, hearing him say your name was a treat in itself as if he'd coated it in everything that is good in this world before presenting it to you. "You know I'd never do that. And neither would he, I think. He's my friend but he'd be crazy to give up such a talented person as you."

Your heart fluttered, and you gave a small smile. Realizing his confession, he coughed and pointed to the bags. "So, what have you got for me?"

You walk him through the meals that had been prepared, sharing all the ingredients and ideas that culminated in them. You don't notice how he barely looks at the food and focuses on you instead. Eventually, he calls George in to try the food and even convinces you to have a few bites. Most of the time you talk about the kid;- mostly about how cheeky he is. He tells you how he once got stuck on the subway for the entire day, making Ted run all around New York to find him, but even moments like those are worth it because the bond between them is unbreakable. You found it endearing and secretly wished you got the same opportunity - a second chance to love Ted as freely as you did before, or at least could have.

George left as soon as you guys finished, already having arranged a playdate and sleepover with Charkie for that day. As he left, your minds were too buzzed from being in each other's company for the entire evening that you barely acknowledged the click behind you as you packed away. Ted had loved everything but gave a few notes here and there that you'd have to take up with Pisghetti. You beam warmly at Ted, giving your thanks once more before grabbing the door handle.

You tugged. Nothing.

You tugged again. Still nothing.

Third time in and you were panicking. Realizing your distress, Ted walked over (was his scent always this intoxicating?) and gave it a try himself before he outwardly groaned. "Crap." he said, "The doors automatically lock after 6 for security measures, George doesn't know that. It's stupid, I've been meaning to change it. Ugh. It just - it just became second nature to me you know?" He ran his fingers through his hair. You had to stop yourself from reaching out and playing with his tousled strands. On the other hand, he marched over to his desk and punched a few numbers in, and spoke firmly but politely into the phone. He was met with a disappointing response on the other end, causing a frown to settle on his face. After pleading for a bit more, he eventually returns the handset back in place. "I'm sorry, Y/N."

"Why, what's the verdict?"

"They can't get us out until 7 AM. We're going to have to spend the night here."

Nothing about this was ideal. You were sprawled over on the pull out couch, your back facing him as you try your hardest to fall asleep. Meanwhile, he'd have to periodically pull his eyes from your serene figure and try to focus on getting comfortable on the floor. He shouldn't be complaining, he'd practically forced you to take the bed. Still, being 28 meant that he didn't have the same body as he did when he was 18. He was definitely going to feel this tomorrow.

That being said, Ted doesn't know if he'd really call it unfortunate. When you'd started to leave, Ted was about to reach out and ask you to stay, to take a stroll with him. Reminisce about the past. Talk about why you left and why it felt like you took a piece of him with you. Anything. He just wanted to be near you. It had been so long. His nervous prayers were answered when the door refused to open. Sure, you weren't talking, but your presence itself was soothing.

He heard you shifting where you were laying down and looked over to see you staring at the ceiling, clearly unable to sleep. "Can't sleep?" he asks, giving in to temptation.

Your eyes quickly snap to him, and he feels them glaze over his chest. The suit was not at all comfortable to sleep in, so he'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt a little. He hadn't realized how it made him look seductive but seeing the way your eyes widened as you looked him up and down did cause pink to bloom on his cheeks and ears.

"Uh... sorry, what did you say?"

"Can't sleep?"

You lick your lips. "Um, yeah. Today's been a long day and it doesn't seem to be over anytime soon."

"I understand. Hey, sorry about this mess. This was not the way I envisioned this evening."

"Didn't you say you didn't know I was coming?" You say, giggling.

"You know what I meant!" He chuckles in return. "Is the couch uncomfortable? I haven't slept on it in a while, might be a bit stiff."

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's fine, I'm just restless." A blanket of silence covers you again, but this time it's not awkward. You move to sit properly on the couch, essentially telling him you're available to talk.

"We talked a lot about George while we were eating," Ted says first. "However I still don't have a clue about what you were up to when you were in Ontario. How've you been?"

"Well, I did two years at Le Cordon Bleu, but in my 3rd year I decided to transfer." You begin. "Partly because I wasn't meshing well with the other students and partly because; well, I could. I'd been offered a scholarship from CASO, so I did my last two years there. It sucks though, I really thought it would be my alma mater. I bought an apartment but after a year I fell out of love with it and soon I fell out of love with the entire province. So, I applied for the sous chef role in Pisghetti's and, well. Here I am."

"I'm sorry Le Cordon Bleu wasn't like what you'd seen in Julie & Julia - still don't understand what you see in it by the way -"

"Hey! Leave me alone."

" - But, I'm proud of you, Y/N. Your talent overshadowed our town."

You're left dumbfounded. "That's so sweet. Thank you. Truly." You say, playing with your hair. How could he say probably the nicest words you've ever received despite what you did? Surely Ted couldn't be that nice.

"What about you? I knew you were going places but I didn't expect you to end up here so soon." You inquisitively ask.

He scratches the back of his head. "It was all luck, really. I started off as an intern, but the previous director took notice of me and took me under his wing. I've been here for, what, 4 years now?"

"You were only 24?! Jesus, you must be the youngest museum curator ever. Why're you watering your accomplishments down?"

"Ha, I was far from the youngest. I believe that title belongs to a 5-year-old?"

"What? Wow." You say, bewildered. "Hey, isn't George under 3? Maybe you could help him beat both that record and be the first monkey to do so."

"That's - that's actually not that bad of an idea." He says, daydreaming about how chaotic that would be to even approach.

You take your chance. "I've been meaning to ask... what's with the yellow? You were never a big fan of the color growing up."

He falls shy. "It's going to sound really stupid, but I purposely tried to make myself look like a banana so that George would come to like me faster. Professor Einstein told me we associate ourselves with other objects better when we have a pre-established bond with them. I still don't know if he was trying to get a joke out of me, but I guess it worked. Look, the brown boots are meant to be the stem, and the polka dot tie is meant to be the seeds."

You make an 'Ahh' sound, realizing why he'd paired the odd combination together. "That's really smart, wow. But George loves you now, why keep wearing it?"

"I guess I haven't found the time to shift back." He replied, shrugging.

"We'll have to change that. Also, Julie & Julia is a very good movie thank you very much."

He gives you a lopsided grin in response. His gaze stays on your face. The silence envelops you both once more. You both stare into each other as if there were no other people in the world, your eyes sharing words that were hard to put out into the real world. "I missed you." he finally says. "I missed you like crazy, Y/N."

"I missed you too." You say, hesitantly. More than he could ever know.

"Why did you leave? You never gave me a real answer."

"It's complicated-"

"You seriously cannot say you expect to stroll back into my life like you never left after breaking my heart like that." He says, his voice getting firmer as he scoots closer to you. "I- I deserve better. You know I do. I deserve an answer."

A sigh escapes you. The truth had to come out one way or another.

6 years ago, you had an epiphany. You remember exactly where you were; Econ 101, senior year of college. Your mind was in a distant land even as you stared at the professor's whiteboard, but by the end of class, you'd come to a decision. This would be your last year doing anything related to economics; you were going to go to culinary school.

It wasn't that you were particularly bad at the subject, your heart just wasn't in it. Every day when you walked into school, all you wished to do was go back to the 4 walls of your kitchen;- smell the aroma as the onions carmelized on the pan, the repeated action of the knife chopping through different vegetables, the sizzle of the wok as you added oil to it. You wouldn't find your heart calculating the GDP or GNP bullcrap, it would always be there at home standing in front of the stove figuring out what seasonings the meal needed.

The moment the realization hit you, you rushed to your shared dorm with Ted. You know he'd stayed at home today and wasted no time in letting him be the first one to know of your new decision. He's a bit surprised to see not just you but the frazzled expression on your face, but ushers you inside anyway. You unload everything that was on your mind from the last hour onto him and eagerly wait to hear what he thinks.

"I think," He says, stroking his chin. "You should do it."

"Are you sure? You don't think it's too late? I mean, 4 years of my life have gone into this already."

"Don't forget this is the rest of your life, chowder. I'd much rather you do something you actually love rather than something you only picked because of convenience."

"I don't know, Ted... It's in Canada. I'll be there for a long time, too."

He reached out to grab your hands, your cheeks turning a shade of pink that you hope would go unnoticed by him. "Y/N. You've always been there for me, and I can't thank you enough for it. Let me be the same for you. It doesn't matter how long, or how much, or whatever - as long as you're happy. Take the leap, apply for Le Gordon Blah-blah." You grin, lost in his cheerful eyes.

That was the push you needed to finally tip yourself over the edge. He was by your side when you repeated the same process with your moms (slightly less rambly this time). They were skeptical at first - who wouldn't be? - but eventually accepted that this was your life and you were more than capable enough to handle it. He was also by your side when you applied for the program. He'd helped you write and rewrite your application several times, batting your hand away from your mouth every time you got the urge to bite your nails. Bless his heart, he even clicked on the upload button when you got too scared to.

When you were accepted, it was his arms you ran to. Ted has always been your number-one supporter, hasn't he?

Of course, with only a few classes left to go before you got handed your degree, you decided to stick around for the final exams. It was pretty funny to compare your calm and serene mood compared to your friends who were freaking the absolute hell out - most of all, Ted. He completely forgot that self-care was a thing, spending hours hunched over his history textbooks and going for hours without food. His reading glasses were on him 24/7 - not that you minded. Still, you had to step in for him at that moment; prepping his meals, dragging him to bed, and massaging his back every time it started to hurt. He kept on thanking you, but you brushed them off. It was honestly the least you could do, and you knew he would do the same for you.

One night, you dragged him from his studies to watch The Office with you. "It'll help your brain relax a bit. You can't keep cramming everything into your brain." He grunts but complies anyway, resting his head on your shoulder while Jim and Dwight plan Kelly's birthday. It's more background noise, really, as your focus is more on him instead of their on-screen antics. You hear his breathing slow down and his eyelids flutter shut. You tread your hands through his soft hair, knowing that it always helps lull him to sleep.

Soon enough, you notice how you're synchronizing your breathing to his. It amuses you at first, but a bolt of fear strikes your entire body. This time next year - heck, in just a few months, actually - you wouldn't have the chance to do this. Yes, you weren't going that far - Canada was literally the next country. But it was still a 6-hour flight, and it was still a 3-hour time difference. And it's not like you could come over every so often or expect him to - that would create a huge dent in the already little savings you had. Could these moments be your last with Ted for at least the next 4 years? Your glossy eyes turn to Ted's stoic sleeping face.

Maybe you'll allow yourself to be brave just this once.

Slowly shifting yourself to face him, you bring yourself closer. Your mouth ghosts his, your breath fanning over his skin. You stay that way for a few heartbeats, contemplating whether or not this was a good idea. You inch in closer and closer until your lips brush over his...

And that's when you feel his hands frame your cheeks, his face crashing into yours. Your brain doesn't absorb the shock of him not only being awake but also kissing you back at first but caution is thrown into the winds as you pull him closer. Soon your back hits the sofa below and he's over you, desperate to reach each and every crevice of your mouth. You tilt your face to allow him to get deeper, hands over his to hold him in place because you were scared he was going to pull away. His glasses knock into your face but neither of you seems to notice.

When Ted closed his eyes, he expected to wake up to the sight of Dwight taping up half-deflated balloons to the ceiling - not the most beautiful woman in the world kissing him. And really, what could he have done except kiss back with triple the fierceness? He loves how your lips mold against his perfectly, his tongue running against your bottom one to make you open up even more, eliciting a moan from the depths of your throat.

You don't know how long has passed when you break away, a long strand of saliva connecting your bruised lips. His hands fall to your waist, his face nuzzling your neck. You revel in his glow, reminding yourself that it wouldn't be long before you'd have to give him up. You couldn't handle a distance of 3000 km, and he didn't deserve that either. You should not have done this. You start tearing up, feeling as if the walls are closing in around you, popping the bubble surrounding the both of you.

Out of nowhere, Ted feels a wetness on his cheek. "What the - Y/N, are you okay? What happened?" You gently nudge him off your body, wiping the tears from your face.

"Nothing, I'm fine. You should go sleep, you have an exam soon." You say, turning around and making your way to your room without waiting for a reply. You still can't believe that you left him confused and heartbroken on the couch from something you had done to him. That night had been the worst of your life.

Exam season came and went, neither of you bringing up what happened and in all honesty, you tried avoiding him just as much as you could. The system you had built was working relatively well, you would only see him in the morning right before the both of you left for your exams. You'd leave leftovers for him in the fridge with a brief note taped on his fridge, but that's where your contact stopped. Every so often, when you were getting ready in the morning, you'd see him from the corner of your eye trying to reach out to you opening his mouth as if he was going to say something.

But he never did.

You started packing up your room the day you were done with your exams. You'd turned down a celebratory night out with your friends, feeling the need to leave as soon as you could. What use was staying here anyway? No, now was the time to shove your belongings in boxes and start arranging your flight back home, arriving much earlier than expected. It wasn't a permanent solution since Ted lived right next to you, but it would work for now.

That's how Ted found you just over an hour later. By that point, your room was mostly bare save for some of your essentials sitting out on your desk. He had just returned home, about to use the washroom when he heard some weird shuffling from the direction of your bedroom. A bit alarmed, he rushed to you, only to see you stacking your suitcases on top of each other. You stop in your tracks when you see him, expecting him to be gone for at least another two hours. "Oh. Hey."

"Hi...? What's going on?"

"Uh, I'm going back home for a bit. Probably the day after tomorrow."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Wait, you're not staying for graduation? It's only two weeks from now."

"Yeah, but that's not really important to me." He clenches his jaw.

"Well, I suppose you would want to spend as much time with your parents before you go."

"Sure, yeah." You lie through your teeth. He was right, of course, but that wasn't the reason why. "How long are you here for?"

"A little after graduation, I think. Have a few job positions available, I'll need to go check them out."

"Oh, makes sense."

The conversation comes from a standpoint. Unable to maintain eye contact with him, you fiddle with your suitcase. "Y/N," He begins, sucking in a deep breath.

"Yes?" You say, biting your lip.

"Could you wait for me before you go? We could just, like, hang out?" He says nervously.

Oh god.

"Of course, Ted." You say unsure of what would come of the promise.

"Thank you." He adds, relieved.

Just as he's about to leave, you call out for him. "I don't know if I'm going to see you tomorrow, so, um. Bye. For now." If only he knew the true intent of those words.

He looks at you skeptically but returns the sentiment anyway. "Bye, Y/N."

True to your word, you didn't see Ted the next day, finally being dragged out of your cocoon by your other friends. You didn't see him the day of your flight either, not really knowing where he was. Once you'd lugged all your belongings outside, you paused to look over the apartment. A deep sadness instills within you - this was the place where Ted and you had spent the last 4 years of your life. He'd coached you through several panic attacks on that very table, you had spent hours behind that stove cooking whatever your heart desired, and the picture of the both of you still hung over the crack in the wall that came with the place. That sofa was the same place the both of you slumped over after a hard day to catch up on whatever you were watching and, very recently, where you'd both shared a brain-melting kiss.

You shake your head of these thoughts, it was time to move on. You had just been accepted into your dream school, why were you acting like your entire life was ending? Previously, you'd contemplated leaving him a note, but that didn't feel necessary anymore. You'd already said what you needed to say that night.

Wrapping your hands around the door handle, you say goodbye to the place one last time before locking it shut. As you load everything onto the small elevator, you hope that goodbye extends to Ted too.

The next two weeks have you fall into a pattern. You'd wake up and have breakfast with your parents before tagging along with either of them on any errands they needed to do. Sometimes that meant going with your mom to the grocery store or helping your mama in the soup kitchen a few streets away. Your days were dedicated to spending time with them, but your nights were left empty. It was really a matter of time before Ted occupied your mind during those times. You'd wake up and fall asleep to memories of him;- your best friend, your crush, your rock. The thought has you laughing. Despite the last 20 years of being friends, this was the legacy he'd left on you - and you had no one but yourself to blame. Funny how life works sometimes.

The day before you left, the Shacklefords came over to see you. You'd seen them at various points since you'd been back but this was the first time all of you were settling down in a room together. You didn't mind, these people were literally your second set of parents. The 5 of you discussed various topics over dinner; how your decision was so unexpected, how they would support you no matter what, how your brother was doing, if their other kids were coming for Ted's graduation party, etc.

"Oh yeah, how was the graduation by the way?" Your mama says. "Y/N robbed us of attending it," she adds, giggling.

"It went fine - it was pretty emotional to see our youngest reach such a milestone. We are really starting to feel the empty nest now." Ted's dad replies, smiling. "But Ted didn't seem to share the sentiment."

"Really? He looked pretty happy in his photos." Your mom questions.

"Yeah, he was pretty glum throughout it all. Those pictures I sent you were the best ones of the bunch. To be fair, I would be too if my best friend wasn't there with me." His mom says teasingly. You force a smile.

The conversation continues to flow around you but you let yourself simmer in that comment. No one except your parents knew that you were leaving tomorrow; they were extremely confused by your request but promised to not tell. His mom's remark was meant all in good jest, but now you're terrified of her reaction to the news that you left before saying a proper goodbye to her son. It would be fair, you felt like a horrible person, but you were not prepared for anything otherwise.

The next morning, your moms dropped you off at the airport. They both took turns kissing you on the cheek, helping you load your luggage onto a trolley before waving you off, promising to visit you once you'd found an apartment and settled in. You hug them and go to catch your flight, leaving a piece of your heart with them. Ted may have been your number one supporter, but those two had been with you through literally everything and you'd probably miss them the most when you're abroad.

An hour or so later you're done checking in, and you decide to spend some time window-shopping in the Duty-Free section. You didn't need anything, your mama had made sure of that while you were packing, plus everything was too expensive anyway. No, you just wanted to browse - at least, until, you'd noticed a pile of cute Julius the Monkey plushies in the corner of the shop. Okay, maybe you'd let yourself buy one thing. It could be a companion for this new scary stretch of your life.

You pick one up, fondly looking over the details on its plush body. Ted did very briefly have a Paul Frank obsession, you remember. He would've loved to have this. You miss him so much.

Suddenly, a hand reaches out to grab your shoulder. You jolt in surprise as you turn back, Julius falling from your hands in the process. "Sorry! Let me grab that for you," a wide-eyed and flustered Ted bends down before you, picking up the doll. He offers it to you, but you skip over it.

"What are you doing here?" You exclaim in shock. "Weren't you supposed to arrive in a week or something?"

"I got an offer I couldn't turn down, so I decided to come home early and surprise my parents. But I could ask you the same thing, Y/N. You said you were going to wait for me." He replies in an exhausted voice. You eye him. He looked a bit sleep-deprived, his messy hair poking out of his hoodie. A large suitcase stands next to him, adorned by his neck pillow. It must've been a rough flight.

You were cornered. "I, um, have to go. The announcement lady just mentioned my flight."

He stops you, spotting your lie. "Unless you're flying to Germany, I suggest you explain yourself." He replies in a firm tone.

Clenching your jaw, your eyes fall to the floor. You had caused all of this just because you couldn't keep your freaking lips to yourself. You deserved this moment of humiliation. "I'm sorry."

"You can't kiss me one day and then disregard our decades of friendship by running away, Y/N. What's going on?"

"That kiss was a mistake." You say, literal garbage falling out of your mouth. Was it something you regret? Yes, but it wasn't a mistake. "I did it in a moment of foolishness and I wish I didn't."

This catches him off guard. "No, it wasn't. You would have t-"

Gathering up all your courage, you stare into his eyes. "Don't make something out of nothing." Wow, now you were deflecting. Perfect. You sense anger building within him and realize you should probably step away while you still can. You grab your carry-on, about to turn away when he says something.

"I can tell when you're lying, Y/N."

You chose to not reply to that comment. "Goodbye, Ted. I wish the absolute best for you, congrats on the new job." At least that was wholehearted. You walk away, leaving Ted behind in that overpriced Duty-Free shop still clutching onto the Julius plushie as if it'll abandon him like you just did.

He purchased it in the hopes that you'd return back to him.

And there it was. The truth is all out in the open.

"You should know, Ted, I would do things completely differently now. I am so, so sorry. I never should have done that to you, it was stupid, I was a fucking coward-"

Ted's hands encase yours, and for the first time in 6 years, you feel like you're going to be okay. "No, you were completely right to feel those things, Y/N. God, if I had stopped being so hardheaded and realized why you became so closed-off, we wouldn't have missed so much time together."

"No, it's my fault." You say, gripping his hands tightly. "Don't you dare blame yourself. It was me - I made everything worse. I should have been more upfront with my fears. I shouldn't have lied to you." You cup his face, resting his forehead against yours.

"I would've flown there if you'd asked me to." He confesses, his voice a decibel over a whisper.

"I knew you would have, but I couldn't expect something of that scale from you." You reply. "You deserved to live your own life."

"When will you realize that you are my lifeline?"

"Fuck, don't say that... in some cruel and fucked up way, I'm kind of glad it worked out. I mean, think about it. You wouldn't have gotten George or this gigantic office!" You leave the warmth of his embrace, widening your arms to emphasize its size. He snickers, acknowledging that you have a point.

You spot something from the corner of your eye. Your hands reluctantly left their position and you reach to pick up a book lying next to you. Following your line of vision, Ted watches as you pick up and rotate the book in your hands. "Oh no, that's George's favorite nighttime story. He probably got it to read with Charkie but left it behind." He says, worriedly. He sees in your eyes, though, that that's not what intrigued you.

"You kept it? The book I gave you?" You say, staring at him with the rawest emotions anyone could ever see. There it was; the same look you'd given him when you'd fallen off the bike.

"It's you, chowder." He says, returning the stare. "It's always been you."

In a split second, you push your lips against his. You move the book aside and find your spot on the back of his head, playing with his hair. His travels further down your back until they meet your ass, caressing your cheeks and tugging them to be closer to him. This. This is what bliss felt like.

His mouth explores your tavern as if his only goal is to go deeper and deeper until you were one. It feels like the air is being sucked out of you in the absolute best way possible, melting into him just as you did that day 6 years ago.

Then, you feel something meaty poking your leg. Your eyes flow open in surprise and it takes you a few seconds to realize what it is.

"Are you hard?" You say as you pull apart. He squeaks, looking down and turning red and you stifle a laugh.

"I'm sorry, this isn't- oh my god, this is so embarrassing," he panics. "I'm so sorry, Y/N, I swear this wasn't my plan, maybe if we just wait a bit-"

"Ted," you caress his face and he immediately hushes. "It's okay. Honestly, it's kind of hot to know you're pining for me down there."

"Still, the girl of my dreams is finally back in arms-" your heart flutters. "-and this is how my body decides to react. Ugh. We could wait for it to go back down; or if you're uncomfortable having it around I could go to the bathroom and, um, take care of it?"

You bite your lip as you see the outline of his bulge and he instinctively covers it with both hands. "We could do that, but I am open to other options." His eyes widen as he realizes the implications of your words. "Only if you are as well, though." You add, quickly.

"...I'm open to it too," he reveals, and your smile widens.

Taking your chance, you smash your lips against his again before flipping your positions. Your fingers snake down to the buckle of his belt and you impatiently try to remove it, eventually being successful. Once it's off, you quickly discard his pants in the same way. Smirking into the kiss, you run your fingers over the erect tent in his boxers.

You pull away only to press more kisses onto his neck, making your way downwards to his nether region. He lets out a moan when you wrap your lips around his nipple and suck, and the sound sends a fresh wave of arousal through your body.

His flushed face scrunched up in pleasure, your saliva coating his lips, his bare chest dotted with sweat. The sight was simply erotic.

Your fingers slip into his waistband as your lips continue traveling downwards. You tug his boxers off and his member almost pokes you in the eyes.

My god, how was he hiding this in those tight pants? It was curved, veiny and thick. The angry, swollen red tip begged for some relief and your hands reached out to grab it in your hands. You felt drool escape from the side of your mouth as you realize your hands don't even wrap around properly. Your eyes shift to his. "I have to be honest," you say anxiously, rubbing circles on his slit with your thumb. "I don't know if you'll fit."

Those words were enough to send another shiver through his already overstimulated body. "You should know, I haven't really - um - done this before."

Your movements freeze. "What?"

"I'm still a virgin." He says, and your lack of reply sends him into a spiral of panic. "I'm sorry, is that a turn-off? I just never really thought about it that much. I'm so sorry-"

"What the fuck are you sorry for?" You startle him. "I'm sorry for literally everyone else in the world! Have you been hiding this monster in your pants for 28 years?" You grip the tip tightly once more, earning a groan from him.

"To think that I will be the first person to bring you an orgasm, to see how your eyes roll to the back of your head as you ride out your high... fuck, do you not know how hot that is? Holy shit, I cannot wait to feel you inside me."

Wasting no time for his reply, you pop his leaking tip into your mouth and roll your tongue over it. The whimpers he makes fuel you as your hands cup his balls. You bob your head, trying to fit him inside one inch at a time.

You see his palm quickly clamp over his mouth, amusing you immensely. "Moan as loud as you want, pretty boy. What are they going to do, walk in?" You laugh, unlatching from his cock for a bit before diving right back in.

He heeds your advice, letting out the most satisfying moans you've ever heard as he tangles his fingers in your hair. He gently pushes you closer and closer to him until your nose touches his pelvis. Is this what he'd been missing out on for his entire life? If only he could turn back time and slap himself across the face.

Your tongue only gets needier and needier, desperate to taste all of him all at once. You use it to trace his bulging veins, feeling him twitch as you do so. Your hands leave his balls to slip in between your own legs and you rub your clit in the same rhythm as you suck him.

Maybe the sight of you playing with yourself should've been enough to push him over the edge; but it's only when he makes contact with your hazy eyes that causes him to buck into your mouth and finally give you what you wanted, his essence running down your throat as you swallow. "Fuck," he says, surprising you by swearing. "You're a goddess." He says in his post-orgasmic bliss.

You wipe any remnants off your lips with the back of your hand and laugh. "That's my name, Teddy. Don't wear it out." Then you clamber onto his lap and meet his lips once again. He grins sheepishly when he tastes him in you, but that grin quickly turns into a moan as you grind down on him. He's tempted to let you bounce on him till he spills himself all over you, but he knew he wanted you to experience your own orgasm.

"Y/N," he shyly says. "Can I eat you out?"

You weren't expecting that, but who were you to refuse? "Yes, please!"

Placing his hands underneath your buttcheeks, he lifts you into the air - damn, has he been working out? His biceps are so hot - and awkwardly shuffles to the desk. He places you on the desk, albeit in the wrong spot as you end up having to scoot up a bit for fear of falling off - but with a man like Ted molding into putty in your hands, how could you care?

He fumbles to remove your shirt, his eyes darkening once he sees the glow of your breasts in the moonlight. You unclasped your bra and tossed it away without a care in the world, discarding your pants in the same manner. You feel exposed, desperately wanting to blow his expectations out of the water but secretly being afraid that you're not capable of it.

You see his breath hitch in his throat as he gazes at you lustfully, clad in nothing save for a pair of soaked panties. He reaches forward and plants a sloppy kiss on your lips, moving downwards to your chin, then the length of your exposed neck before settling on the center of your collarbones. You tingle with delight - only Ted could be so seductive in an endearing manner.

He wraps his pillowy lips around your nipple, one hand playing with your other breast. He's a bit rough at first but eases his force when he observes how you jolt up. His teeth graze your skin and you mewl.

He leaves your nipple and gets himself level with your clothed pussy. When you feel his nose digs into your clit, you instinctually gasp and wrap your legs around his head. You feel fucking powerful for a second, knowing you're suffocating him with nothing but you. You might just climax on the spot.

The feeling is interrupted when he pries your legs open. "Slow down, chowder, we have all night - and, err, next morning."

Just when you're about to reply with a giggle and call him cute, he pulls your panty to the side. He latches his mouth around your clit, giving it some experimental licks before deciding he was doing well when he hears you suck in your breath. He sucks on it like his life depends on it, teeth grazing ever so gently over your sensitive core. One hand keeps your legs apart so he could have access to more of you, while his other runs itself along your slit. When his fingers are sufficiently coated in your slick, he finally plunges inside with two digits.

The loud moan you let out makes his cock twitch.

His fingers repeatedly thrust into you, making a come-hither motion each time. It was really just a matter of time before he found your g-spot, instantly making you reach up and grope your breast.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck!" You curse, and you feel his lips twisting into a smirk as he keeps sucking the life out of you. When he feels you tightening as you near your precipice, he takes it as a sign to switch his position. You feel a warm, wet appendage poking your quivering hole, audibly gasping His tongue travels around the perimeter at first, but then they replace his fingers when it snakes inside of you - twisting, turning and plunging into you.

In just a few seconds your vision goes blurry and you wrap your thighs around his face again as you climax around his tongue. "Holy shit!"

He cheekily rises from where he was sitting, his mouth streaked with evidence of your orgasm. His breath catches in his throat when he sees the mess you're in. "Not bad for a first timer, huh?" You giggle exasperatedly, trying to catch your breath.

You were the definition of lewd at this moment; sweat highlighting the curve of your breasts.

"See something you like?" You joke, propping yourself in elbows.

"I love you."

"...what?"

"Sorry, sorry! I did not mean to say that! Forget what I said."

"Ted."

He sucks in a deep breath. "Maybe it's seeing you after so long but - I can't. I can't let you slip away again. I want to be with you, Y/N, you're it for me." He says, caressing your face and using his thumbs to wipe the tears welling in your eyes. "Stay with me." He hums, kissing your nose.

"You don't-" you start, holding onto his arms. Ted feels uncertain of what you're going to say. "You don't tell that to someone after you've given them an earth-shattering orgasm, you doof!" You exclaim, chuckling.

He feels like he can breathe again. "Reciprocate my love, woman." He says, pouting.

You pull him in for a hug tightly, never wanting to let go. His arm snakes around your back and holds you in place, his nose nuzzling into the base of your neck. "I love you too." You finally say. "It's definitely going to be an adjustment. I've only been back for two weeks, you have a monkey, I don't even have a place yet - but that doesn't matter. I love you so, so much. Letting you go was the worst decision I ever made, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again."

You're pulled into a kiss. This one is different though; not based on hunger or desire as before but rather passion. It feels like an ice cube spreading over your bruised lips. He breaks apart, resting his forehead on yours. "Soul meets soul on lover's lips." He quotes.

"Ugh, you haven't changed one bit, you nerd." You remark, rolling your eyes half heartedly as you recognize the line as one of Percy Shelly's. He shrugs shamelessly, elated that you remembered.

He gently lays you down on the desk once more, being careful to not crush you as his hands wrap around his dick and he strokes himself. He pulls away, slowly, leaning over to your ear.

"Think I can give you another 'earth-shattering' orgasm?" He smugly says, his sticky fingers gripping onto your hip.

"I might just die if you don't."

He blushes before slowly pulling your cum-soaked panties down, slipping them past your legs. God, the sight of your battered pussy was so lewd, but an essential detail registers in his head. "Y/N," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I don't have a condom."

That snaps you out of your trance. "Ugh, I completely forgot." You reply, annoyed. "I have an IUD, but I haven't been with anyone for a while. If you still want to continue, then I'm up for it too." You say nervously.

He bends down to kiss your nose again. "I trust you."

You reach out for his member, rubbing it against your folds with your slick making it seem so effortless. The pretty moan he lets out only edges you on - he had you wrapped around his gorgeous long fingers, didn't he?

He writhes in your grasp, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips leaving crescent-shaped marks that you prayed would remain. "Shit, shit, shit!" He exclaims.

His swearing really shouldn't be making you weak in the knees, but damn it all to hell.

"God, I can't wait to take you apart every single day." You say. "Crumbling before my very eyes. Fuck, I can't wait to be wrapped around you."

"Then what are you waiting for?" He pants irritatedly, arms placed on each side of your head.

"As you wish, pretty boy." You reach out for his hand to plant a kiss on his fingers. Finally, you align his head with your entrance and lace your legs around his waist. "I can't believe I'm finally making you mine."

He cups your face. "Chowder, I've always been yours."

And with that, you push him inside with your legs. The first stretch is uncomfortable due to his sheer size and girth, but that couldn't matter less. You were more focused on how his head rolled back and the loud groan that escapes his throat - possibly the most erotic sound you've ever heard.

It was like he'd lived in black and white before this, and all of a sudden there was an explosion of color and he was drowning in you, you only you-

"Holy crap, Y/N." He pants. "You're so tight and warm and- fuck."

"You're becoming quite the potty-mouth." You giggle.

"Hush, woman. You and your pussy are going to be the death of me someday." He says, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

You stroke his wet hair, grinning. "That's the plan."

"Brat."

"Yours truly."

"At least you got one thing correct." He says, leaning in to kiss your lips. The inadvertent thrust that came with it causes you to let out a gasp, and you're starting to be weary of if you can survive being impaled by his monster dick.

Luckily your thoughts are silenced when his hips start to move; it starts slow as he adjusts to you, but he picks up his pace, pounding into you.

"Ted! Fuck - more!" You scream. Watching his cock disappear into you - seeing where you started and he began - it felt like he had no choice but to comply with your words.

Rolling his hips against yours, he diverts the attention of his mouth onto your exposed neck, pressing wet kisses along before harshly biting and sucking on your skin. It hurts - not unbearably so, but you still make a point to give him a hickey to show how it was done later on.

Wanting more of him, you slowly lift your hips and match his pace. "Holy fucking shit, your dick is skewering me alive." You cry, hands going to play with your clit. You see his face scrunch up at the image, which amuses you to no end.

Above you, Ted chases the warmth of your pussy. The sound of skin on skin makes him feel delirious, getting turned on by the mere thought of your fluids intermingling and leaving a mess on the space he has to work on.

He catches your lips with him, slowly feeling the coil tightening in his lower abdomen. Your pert nipples drag over his chest, sending tingles all over him. Between your pretty little moans, your tight hole sucking his cock in and the sight of your slick-covered fingers rubbing figure-8s around your clit, he knew he had no chance.

Soon he starts seeing white spots in his vision and something starting to unravel in his lower abdomen. "Y/N, I think I'm close. Where should I - um -"

"Inside, please." You say, panting.

And just like that, his hips still and he comes undone.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He was a fucking vision - you wanted the sight imprinted on the back of your eyelids. His thick eyebrows knitted together as his eyes closed shut, his lower lip falling under his teeth as his stomach caved in and of itself. His thick, warm seed shot into your pussy in uncontrollable spurts, stuffing you beyond your wildest dreams.

"Fuck, I love you so much." You say unabashedly, feeling his essence dribble out of you slowly. He chuckles lightly, struggling to catch his breath. "Can I ride you? I'm almost there."

He nods his head excitedly before flipping the both of you so you were on top, your palms planted firmly against his chest as you straddle him. You waste no time in moving your hips and he seems all too happy to let you take over, watching your actions through his lidded eyes. You create a fast but deep pace, the sound of him fucking through his own cum pushing you even closer to your end. "So good for me, love." You praise him as he mewls beneath you. "So perfect."

You slump backward, allowing you to grind against his cock more as his head smashes into your cervix. His fingers vigorously rub your clit, making you wail. "Don't stop, oh my god, fucckk!"

He bucks his hips into you, desperate to see you crumble in front of him again. "God, I must be the luckiest man alive," he eggs you on as you swirl your hips. You clench your walls, the friction bringing him to his edge once more.

"Ted..." you whimper. Looking into your glassy eyes, he understands.

"I'm close again, love," he grunts. "Cum with me."

"Fuck - I love you, I love you I love you I love you-" you chant frantically. With one final thrust, your orgasm overtakes you with such force that your vision blanks out. Your hips stutter as you fall onto him, gushing around his length as his cum paints your walls again.

He brings his lips to yours, kissing you amid your choked sobs of pleasure. You stay in that position for some time, with his bulky arms wrapping around you and his softening dick plugging his cum inside you.

Moments pass as you lay on his chest, listening in for his heartbeat as it slowly calms. "That was amazing." You say, breaking the silence.

"I don't think I could ever go back to my hand again." He sighs as you laugh. "Don't you need to go pee or something?" He says, brushing his fingers through your sweaty hair.

"I don't want to leave our bubble." You pout.

He kisses your forehead. "Well, we have forever, don't we?" You smile. "We can manage maybe a few seconds apart."

"Ugh, fine." You say, slipping him out of you as you wobbly walk to his attached bathroom. He watches himself slowly leak down your thighs, licking his lips contently. If he wasn't completely spent, he'd probably take you up against the wall right now and add another load to the stash. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

He wipes off the mess you made as much as he can before arranging the pullout couch more comfortably. He waits for you, immediately reaching out to your warm body once you're out of the washroom.

He falls asleep tucked up in your arms, and as you listen as he softly snores you realize that this is the most at home you've felt since you left 6 years ago.

"I'm glad to hear he had a good time," Ted says onto the speakerphone as he ties his tie. "We're still trapped but it shouldn't be too long now. Thank you for taking care of him, Margaret, it's lucky this sleepover was scheduled when it was."

Ted was the first to wake up this morning, but you soon followed when you felt his tongue lapping at your folds. After another dalliance in the hay, you watch as he dresses while calling Charkie's house to make sure George was okay. Once he talks to him and promises to take him to the playground today, he hangs up.

You smirk as he bends down to pick up his belt, your eyes training in on his round ass. "You know, I've always loved your butt. You should bend over more, it's my biggest vice."

He turns to you, rolling his eyes in amusement. "Shouldn't you start getting ready? They could barge in any time now."

"I would, but I think you've broken me, Shackleford."

"Don't be so dramatic, chowder. Here, I'll help you."

Once you're dressed and have fixed your hair (to an extent), you place yourself on Ted's lap and overlook the view from his window. "We live right about there," he points to a tall yellow building in the distance, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Ours is the one with the garden on the balcony. Speaking of, remind me to water the plants as soon as we get back."

"Dang, if I wasn't too busy bouncing on your dick we could've seen it at night."

He groans. "Don't talk like you didn't enjoy cumming all over my de-"

All of a sudden you hear the scraping of a key being inserted into the door. Ted swivels the both of you around to meet a maintenance worker and Dr. Einstein. "Heard you kids got locked up yesterday. Ted, you really oughta get this whole system replaced." He says, eyeing the two of you. "Glad it worked out, though." He shamelessly adds.

You cough. "Of course, I'll get a locksmith up here immediately Professor Einstein. Thank you for letting us out, Jerry." Ted rambles, blushing.

The man only nods his head and leaves, unfazed and unbothered. Professor Einstein, on the other hand, lingers for a bit more. "You should take the day off, Shackleford. Maybe get a shower, or touch some grass." He says, before walking away, humming to himself.

"That... was the most embarrassing thing I've been through." He says, dumbfounded.

"Get used to it, sweets." You laugh, picking yourself off as best as you could. "I think I want you to fuck me against this huge window, let everyone see how much I love your dick."

"Jesus, Y/N, I didn't expect you to be such a pottymouth." He replies, shocked, getting up to embrace you again.

"Speak for yourself;- did you hear the shit you were saying last night?"

"I really hope you don't influence George to be just as crude."

"Um, wow. Have some faith in me."

He kisses your forehead, pulling you closer. A warm silence ensues.

"I don't want you to go. You just got back." He whispers.

"I don't want to leave." You mumble, hiding your face in his chest, inhaling his scent. He always gave the best hugs; the ones where you melt right into him.

"I take back what I said about being apart for a few seconds. I want to be with you 24/7." He groans. How did you get so lucky?

"The Pisghetti's are expecting me at 10, right before the lunch shift. Maybe you should tag along? I don't think they'd mind. Actually, it'd help us if anything."

"Well, Professor Einstein did basically tell to me take a day off, and we do still have nearly 3 hours before you're expected. How about we freshen up at our apartment?"

That's how you find yourself curled up around him as he pounds into you in his tub, your 15-minute bath turning into 35. After the stickiness between your legs is washed off (and a sex-crazed Ted is satiated), you quickly rush to get ready, despite knowing that the Pisghetti's are immediately going to know if something is up when they notice you wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Oh well.

The pair of you pick George up from Charkie's, who only live the next block over. Margaret, the sweet dog's kind owner, is delighted to be introduced to you and offers tea, but you regrettably take a rain check. George on the other hand is surprised to see the man with the yellow hat's fingers intertwined around yours but accepts it happily, even climbing to your shoulders as you make the walk to the Pisghetti's.

Safe to say the Chef and Netti didn't expect to see the both of you together, but they don't make a big deal of it. George plays with Gnocchi as the four of you discussed the final adjustments for the meals in the kitchen.

You try your hardest - you swear you do. But every so often Ted's hands hover over yours and it's goddamn hard to not run your fingers over his soft palms. This doesn't go unnoticed by Netti, but she doesn't say anything. She'll squeeze it out of you on Monday, you suppose, judging by how the corner of her lips turn up every time she spots it.

By the time it rolls around to 11:30, you start preparing for your lunch shift. "I wish I could stay, but I did promise to take George to the playground. And I think the Chef wouldn't like me hogging space for potential customers anyway." Ted pouts. "Should I pick you up after your shift? You can have dinner with us - I'll cook." He offers enthusiastically.

"That sounds good! I do have one request; can we drop by my hotel? I really need a fresh set of clothes, and also make sure the staff doesn't think I died or something."

He kisses you briefly but passionately. "Consider it a plan. See you in a few hours, chowder. I love you." With that promise, he reluctantly leaves.

That night, as you're sleeping and sprawled over him, belly full of lasagna and hands holding onto a rather flat plush of Julius the monkey, Ted makes the realization that he has two sources of snores to drown his spiraling thoughts in.

This time, it's enough.

He sleeps contently, tucked in your arms like he hopes to be for the rest of his life with his beloved (and live) monkey just a few paces away.

"Passport?"

"Check."

"Wallet?"

"Check."

"Suitcase and backpack?"

"Check."

"List of Canadian snacks George wants to try?"

"Check! That should be it."

"You are missing one thing." Ted gives you a grave face.

You nervously think back to what could be missing. "What is it?"

"A goodbye kiss for me, hello?" He says, puckering his lips like an idiot in the middle of the bustling crowd around you.

You roll your eyes before planting a big fat wet kiss on his lips. Even Ted wasn't expecting to drop you at the airport today. Heck, he'd actually been trying to avoid flying; partly because it brought a whole list of complications because of George being classified as a primate but also because every time he'd step in one memory of you leaving would rush back into his brain, leaving him a grumpy old mess. He'd even completely skipped over the Duty-Free sections every time he did have to go somewhere.

There was also another reason;- the gala was tomorrow, and dropping you off was already taking a chunk of precious time that could've gone into overseeing the preparations. Obviously, Ted didn't mind - Professor Wiseman was more than capable of being in charge for an hour - but this event was important to him. It was the biggest he'd thrown in his entire career, plus, it had somewhat brought you to him. He was next to you, yes, but he'd be lying if he said a part of him wasn't worrying about the exhibit in the back of his mind.

Of course, you didn't mind. Truth be told, your mind was also a bit preoccupied with the gala - specifically the food. Most of the work was done, Netti and the Chef only had to fix it up to look more presentable. Still, if it hadn't been for your lease expiring soon you would've extended your stay by at least one more day.

You brush these thoughts aside as you give Ted one final hug. "Is it too late to stuff you in my suitcase and carry you with me?" You ask.

"Unfortunately, yes, chowder." He says, kissing the top of your head. "Though... I wouldn't mind being stuffed somewhere else." He says, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

You hit his arm. "Oh my god, give my pussy a break. I'm going now." You whine, turning away from him.

He snickers, stopping you from leaving. "Okay, okay, calm down. Just one more kiss and I promise I'll let you go." He says before bending down and capturing your lips in his. You stay like that for a while before you begrudgingly pull away.

"See you in a few days. Tell George I'll miss him. I love you!" you grin before walking away to the check-in station, waving as you do so.

"I love you too," Ted replies. He watches as you disappear into the crowd, just as you did that day 6 years ago, but he reminds himself that this time is different. You'd be back. And very soon.

With that in mind, he turns back to head to the museum again.

Someone snaps him out of his trance. "You're up in 5, boss."

"Thanks, Andie." Ted acknowledges, flickering through his opening speech again. This wasn't the first time he'd given one but they were very nerve-wracking either way for an introvert. Dressed in an all-black suit for the first time in 2 years, he only wishes you were here to see him. You'd been trying to push him out of that yellow suit for a while now.

Adjusting his tie, he devotes one more second (okay, maybe a bit more) to thinking of you before making his way to the stage stairs. The MC for the evening, a guy by the name of William H. Macy, introduces him - and soon he's facing a room of 500 people with a mic in front of him. He hopes all that practicing with you and George paid off.

"Distinguished guests, it is my honor to unveil the new Invention of Cooking exhibit to you tonight on behalf of The Metropolitan Museum of Arts." A round of applause ensues as Ted searches the crowd for familiar faces so that he could feel a bit more relaxed. "We'd love to extend our warmest welcomes to each and every single one of you. People from every corner of the earth have flown in just to attend this event; food bloggers, world-famous chefs, historians of different specialties, and so forth. A diverse palette of company, really - but all of us, including me, are united by one thing." He pauses to draw the audience in. "None of us know what I'm going to say!"

That earns a cackle from the horde, the most distinct being George. That soothes his nerves, but it's hard to spot the monkey with all these bright lights flashing in his face. "Plans for this new extension date back to several years ago, so seeing everyone stand in it is a very special moment for all of us who have been dedicatedly working on it. We hope that you enjoy immersing yourself in how cooking evolved from the discovery of fire to the stage it's at now." His eyes adjust to the darkness a bit, and he notices George cheekily smiling at him about 50 feet away. He was on someone's head - who was that? "But please do make sure to try out the assortment of appetizers and courses that are sure to give you a taste of New York." He continues, squinting to seek out who George was on but trying to not make it too obvious. It seems like they were walking toward the stage. "They have been prepared by our very own Chef Pisghetti, his wife Netti, and my partner, Y/N L/N, who unfor-" George's mysterious booster seat finally comes to light, and Ted makes eye contact with you.

He coughs, dumbfounded, but picks his jaw up from the floor quickly. This was a professional event, the show must go on. "Who have all devoted the last few weeks of their life making sure everyone in this room gets the best experience attainable. Uh, if you have any questions, feel free to direct them to any of our dedicated staff. Otherwise, have a wonderful evening!" He reaches the end of his speech, pausing for the applause before rushing downstairs to embrace you in his arms. George scurries away, picking up cues that this should be a more private affair. "Y/N - how'd you- Weren't you-" he excitedly queries as you pepper his face in kisses.

"I'll explain everything, can we go to your office though?"

"Sure. Wait, is something wrong?" "No, no! I just don't want to be with you, not surrounded by a bazillion people."

5 minutes later, you're back in his office and he has you wrapped in the tightest of hugs. "You weren't supposed to be back for at least three days - what happened?!"

"Don't scold me, but I chugged like 4 Red Bulls to pack up my entire apartment in under 12 hours. Honestly, you should have seen me. I think I set a world record, but anyway. I brought what I could - all the boxes are in the restaurant - but my friends are going to have to sell my couch and bed and blah blah. Whatever, doesn't matter, caught a flight and ran here." Ted gazes into your eyes. "What? Say something."

"You're crazy." He says, "Why would you do that?"

"You're crazy if you think I would have missed this for the world."

"God, I'm in love with a lunatic."

You beam. "Tell me something I don't know." He grabs you by your cheeks and smashes your lips together and you savor his taste. How did every kiss with him feel like it was the first? Your fingers card through his hair as you try to breathe him in. His tongue pressed between your lips to part them, slipping inside your mouth. You don't know how much time passes before you finally part, lips wet with spit.

"I am wholly and irrevocably in love with you." He confesses.

"Ditto." You teasingly smile.

"Ugh, I take it back."

"No! Don't!" You cry. "I love you too, so much. You are my forever, I couldn't imagine a life without you."

He bites back a cheeky grin, resting his head against yours. "Imagine being so cheesy."

"Watch it, mister, or I'll kick you to Mars."

"Will you come with me?"

"Of course. We'll have to find a spacesuit for George, though. I doubt they make them monkey-sized. Speaking of suits, you look particularly ravishing tonight, Shackleford."

"I could say the same for you, chowder. Where were you hiding this little number?"

You twirl your dress for him. "Do you like it? Had to dig it out of the closet. Sorry, it's not exactly black tie,"

"Are you kidding? The only place this would look better is on the floor."

"Oh, really?" You smirk, turning and walking away from him.

He stares at you in confusion. "Uh, what're you doing?"

"You had them remove the auto-lock security feature thing, right?"

"Yeah, the day after we got stuck. Why?"

"Oops!" You say as you close the door shut and slide the bolt in place. "My hand slipped! Uh oh." He slowly catches on to your plan, a bulge already forming in his pants. You turn back to face him, a mischievous look on your face.

"Now, what happened to your promise of fucking me against your window?"

SMILES AND DIMPLES — dean thomas

summary: y/n loves deans dimples

pairing: dean thomas x fem!hufflepuff!reader

warnings: none

type: fluff

y/n walked into the gryffindor common room, with the help of hermione of course. she spotted dean sat on the couch with seamus and neville. they seemed to be in deep conversation due to the fact that none of them had noticed y/n standing behind them.

"hello" the three jumped at the sound of her voice. all them whipping around to see the girl standing there.

"blimey y/n! you almost gave me a heart attack!" seamus exclaimed as he put a hand to his heart, the two other boys doing the same. y/n giggled instantly putting a smile on deans face. dean could listen to the sound of y/n's laughter all day and never get sick of it.

dean grabbed her hand pulling her twords him. y/n smiled as he pecked her lips beige sitting down in his lap. dean giggled at the girl before wrapping his arms around her waist.

y/n looked to dean seeing the indents of his dimples on his cheek. she smiled before lifting a finger and poking them. she watched dean laugh at the gesture before trying the reach his lips and kiss her fingers, but failing as he did so. they two blinked as a flash of light hit them.

the two looked over to she collin standing with his camera and seamus and neville laughing their arses off.

"what did he do?" y/n asked neville as she watched collin walk away.

"why do think it was me who did something?!" seamus exclaimed.

"because it usually is..." dean sighed rembering all the times seamus blew things up in the past.

"he paid collin 2 sickles to get you two on the front page" neville told them as he chuckled.

y/n leaned forward and smacked seamus on the side of the head watching dean and neville laugh as seamus half the side of his face.

a/n: hope you enjoyed! <3

masterlist

WHY DO YOU HATE ME? — dean thomas

summary: dean finally has enough of y/n and confronts her

pairing: dean thomas x fem!gryffindor!reader

warning: strong language, kissing

type: angst?, fluff at the end

dean say at the gryffindor table listening to the conversations around him. neville was going on and on about plants while seamus was trying to figure out a way to not blow things up.

"wow, dean thomas not talking for once, that's a first" y/n said as her and her friends past behind him. dean rolled his eyes and decided to ignore her remark before going back to his food. "no witty response? what cat got your tongue?" y/n and her friends laughed as they sat across from him.

"whatever, l/n" he scoffed before getting up and sitting on the other side of seamus and neville. he could hear y/n talking about him, he tried his best not to let it get to him, but he finally got to his breaking point.

he stood up and grabbed y/n from her place, pulling her out of great hall, ignoring all the stares he got.

"what the hell! let go of me!" y/n snapped as she tried to get out of his grasp. dean finally let her go as they entered the gryffindor common room, everyone was at dinner so he knew no one would be in their at this time.

"why do you hate me so much?" dean asked as they stood in the middle of the common room.

"really? that's what you dragged me here for?" y/n scoffed and went to walk twords the door but dean quickly stepped infront of her.

"no no no your gonna tell me why you hate me so much." dean told her as he continued to stand infront her.

"im not telling you shit." y/n snapped as she tried walking past him only to get pulled back. "fine, you wanna know why i really hate you? i hate you because you've had everything handed down to you on a silver- not wait golden plater since the day you stepped foot in the school! you have the perfect grades, the perfect friends, for fucks sake you have the most perfect fucking reputation! all the teachers love you! the fucking bartenders at the three broomsticks love you for christs sake! and in their eyes you can do no wroung, your perfect little dean thomas, the perfect boy next door!" y/n went on as she slowly walked twords dean making him go backwards. dean finally fell backwards onto the couch looking up at y/n standing infront of him.

y/n watched as dean opened and closed his mouth like a fish before she scoffed and started walking away. dean quickly scrambled up and grabbed her turning her around. y/n looked at dean their faces inches apart.

"im not the perfect boy next door, i don't have the perfect grades, not everyone loves me, y/n..." dean said before closing the gap between them, putting his lips on hers. he could feel her tense but slowly relaxe and start to mimic his actions.

y/n backed dean up till they fell onto one of the chairs of the common room. dean sitting, and y/n on his lap, legs on either sides of his hips.

"well shit." they heard a voice say before they quickly got off of eachother and turned to see neville, seamus, and the weasley twins standing at the doorway.

"i told you freddie boy!" george laughed as fred handed him a sickle. they both chuckled before walking up into the dormitories.

"i-im just gonna g-go." y/n said before hurrying up the stairs and into her dorm. she could hear the faint voices of seamus and neville asking dean what just happened, only to hear dean say 'i really don't know...' she laughed before belly flopping onto her bed and bringing her finger to her lips.

masterlist

Omg, thos was so cute! I usually don't enjoy modern AUs, because writers often discard the places, the plot and just put characters in our regular world, so your spin on it is awesome, even though the modern aspect isn't really discussed (still the details like Silco still being The eye of Zaun and Zaun existing in general, are very nice). And I loved the detail about transactional love and being scared of accepting help from others! I felt hat so much ugh, that was such a callout XD

I loved the dialogue between Silco and the reader, it was so cute! I imagine the reader sobering up from the anesthesia and being like "I'm so sorry you had to see that Sil, that was so embarassing..." while he's like "I'm so glad I went with you." XDDDD

Oh and after they come back from the clinic and reader "meeting" Jinx? How funny would that be?? "What's wrong with them?" "They're on strong meds, so they're a little out of it." Meanwhile the reader's like "Your hair is so pretty...Who are you?" "I'm your daughter!" And reader turns to Silco like "WE HAVE A CHILD??" Omg the chaos would be awful XD

Hi, hello! Do you know those cute videos where couples interact while one of them is on hard pain meds after stuff like getting wisdom teeth removed? Well, I would like to request a Silco x gn!reader who had to undergo a procedure like that and Silco visits them afterwards, but they're still zooted on the meds and they don't exactly remember who he is or that they're together, but they do know (and are not afraid to tell him) that he is very handsome. Just completely at aw about him. And when he tells them they're actually together?? The pure adoration from the reader?? The idea is too cute, I'm sorry. Just something fluffy and fun. But if that is not your cup of tea, that is completely fine too. Thank you!

This premise is so stinking cute! Thank you, Robin!

Foreign but Familiar

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Teen. 

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, fluff, domestic fluff, modern au, anesthesia, established relationship, feminine-style engagement ring but only because I like the thought of of Silco proposing with an emerald

Word count: 1,2k

Silco escorts you to get your wisdom teeth removed and is rewarded with a very loopy partner who doesn't remember becoming engaged to him.

“You promise you don't mind? I can get one of my friends to take me—”

“It's fine—”

“I just feel bad cause it's gonna be for a few hours and you're so busy. I don't want to pull you away—”

“I said it's fine—”

“Maybe I could call—”

Silco cuts you off with a stern call of your name. You blink, silenced.

“I told you I would take you, so that’s exactly what I’m doing,” your partner says, voice low. His mismatched eyes lock with yours, rooting you to the spot. 

It almost sounds like a threat, but you suppose that’s to be expected; you’ve never been good at accepting help from others. Your entire life, good deeds in your favor have been used as bargaining chips. Love was transactional, attached with strings. So it’s understandable that you have a hard time breaking those old habits, even when the person offering them is the Eye of Zaun. (Or perhaps because he’s the Eye of Zaun). 

The drive to the dentist is painfully quiet, allowing your mind to turn over anxious thoughts. You’d never been under anesthesia before. Your brain conjures up all possible scenarios—none of them good.

Silco must have sensed your unease because soon his hand is reaching past the gear shift toward you, palm warm against your knee.

“It’s going to be okay,” he coos, eyes focused ahead on the road. “It’s a standard procedure.”

You nod, lips pinched tight.

You put off having your wisdom teeth removed for far too long precisely because of your fear. It wasn’t until Silco encouraged you to finally get it over with that you made the appointment.

Everything goes by in a blur. Various people in scrubs give you forms to sign and tell you everything you need to know as far as the procedure itself as well as aftercare. You can barely hear them over the rushing sound in your eardrums, like an ocean wave that threatens to pull you under. You thank your lucky stars that Silco is there with you, nodding all the while as he listens intently, asking questions on occasion when he needs clarification.

Before you know it, you’re lying in the dentist chair, the bright yellow overhead light hitting your eyes. You squint and hear a calming voice next to you.

There’s a needle prick.

A few minutes of bated breathing.

Then sleep overtakes you.

When you awaken, you feel as if your body is weightless, like you’ll drift off and float to the sky if you’re not careful. Your face feels funny and your mouth feels full and dry. Groaning, you slowly take in the world around you. 

Everything is a blur of bright white walls and yellow lights, with the occasional blob of blue scrubs in your periphery. There’s shuffling and chatter around you, the dentist office busily moving along its day. 

You hear a voice somewhere to your right. It’s a low hum and strangely familiar, almost comforting. A soft (slightly loopy) smile on your lips, you lean toward the sound.

“Mmm…” you hum as you enjoy the melody of the voice next to you.

There’s a small chuckle at that as well as a call of your name and it sends you giggling.

“That’s me,” you say, grinning. “That’s my name.”

You lift your eyes to a blurry image of a face. Head tilting as you take it in, you see an ocean green eye on one side and a dark obsidian black eye on the other. Your eyebrows lift in curiosity as the figure comes more into focus.

Blush settles in your cheeks as you take in more of this stranger’s form. Deep valleys of scars along one side of his face, from his temple to his lips. 

His lips…

Without thinking, you lick yours before lifting your eyes to his, taking in the mismatched gaze.

“Ooooh…” you coo softly to yourself, your attention grabbed by the glowing orange of his corrupted eye. It swirls and dances, mesmerizing in its fluidity. You’re completely transfixed by it, unable to tear your eyes away in your drugged state.  “So pretty…”

The man calls your names and it startles you a little, breaking you out of your trance. 

“Hmm?”

He says something. You can’t quite hear it.

“What?”

He says it again. You can just barely make it out.

“How are you feeling?”

You offer the handsome man a wide cotton ball filled grin. “I’m feeling great.”

You hear giggling behind you from someone in a blue scrub. 

“It’s time to go home,” the man says. “Let’s go.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your head pulls back into your neck.

“Why would I… go home with you?” You squint your eyes at him. “I just met you.” You pout your lips, thinking as hard as the drugs will allow you. 

The man chuckles softly.

“I don’t care how handsome you are, you can’t kidnap me,” you mutter to yourself, but it’s much louder than you ever intended; volume control isn’t exactly one of the first things you regain after waking up. 

The man laughs at that one before reaching for your hand.

“Hey! What are you—”

“Do you remember when I gave you this?” the man asks, lifting your hand so that you see a beautiful ring on your ring finger, gold with a large emerald. It catches the light and shines in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Wow…” you breathe out, moving your hand this way and that so that it sparkles. 

You lift your eyes back to him, the gears in your foggy brain slowly churning. Looking back and forth between him and the ring, you manage to piece it together.

Though, not all of it.

Blush rushes to your cheeks and you bring both hands up to cover them, eyes wide.

“We’re married?!”

He shakes his head, laughing.

“Not yet, darling,” he coos. “But very soon.”

He lifts your hand again, his long fingers warm as they wrap around the tips of yours.

“I gave you this as a promise that we would.”

Your mouth hangs open.

“Well?” you ask. “What’s taking so long?”

He lets out a loud laugh at that one. You feel something warm within your chest at the sound. It feels both foreign yet comforting. Like it’s something precious and rare. Like it’s something only meant for your ears.

“You’re the one who set the date so far,” he explains.

You squint your eyes, unconvinced.

A beat.

“Actually, that does kind of sound like me…” you relent.

You find yourself in the passenger seat of a car, with absolutely no recollection of how or when you got there. Turning, you see that same man from before in the driver’s seat.

“Wait…” Your brain starts to slowly awaken, but not quite enough. “How am I supposed to marry you if I don’t even know your name?”

He chuckles, slowing the car down to a stop before turning to you. He smiles and it makes the lines in his scarred face seem shallower, his entire demeanor shifting to something softer.

“Silco.”

You blink.

“Silco…” you hum to yourself. 

Your mouth pulls into a small grin, secretive and giddy, as you allow your body to sink into the carseat. You repeat the name once more, liking the way it feels on your tongue. 

“Silco.”

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @sirenofzaun @blissfulip @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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||Cherish me part 2 || written by me

🔞 Gojo x reader| Minors DNI| TRIGGER WARNING 🔞

Plot: Gojo taking care and pampering a depressed raeder [self insert only about he depression and shower,not about the abusive mother ,i just wanted to add more angst lol]

Tags: sh,depression,Gojo x reader,cute,fluff,comfort,implied naked shower together,Gojo pampering you,past abuse mention,scalding,abusive mother(reader) [ viewers be aware,if this is touchy or unconfortable for you then don't go haed]

Warning: it starts immediately with sh talking

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

P.S: yesterday i did a shower thinking of Gojo doing it for me and since i feel depressed lately i wanted to write this and share my comfort.

i'm so delusional. lol

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia

Satoru doesn’t let you finish. “Your cuts” he continues, almost as if he can’t bring himself to look away. “From last week and today” his voice is so soft, barely audibly.

He reaches out and takes your wrists between his hands, turning them over as he examines the cuts. “I know you weren’t just ‘scraping’ yourself” he says in a sharp tone. “You’re hurting yourself.”

“I-“ you try and pull your wrists away, but he firmly holds onto them. You flinch and quickly try and brush it off. You’re not ready to talk about it. But you know he won’t let it go.

“You’ve been doing this for a while now, haven’t you?” He doesn’t let you answer, and he’s holding onto your wrists too tightly. It hurts. “Tell the truth.”

“It doesn’t matter!” you finally cry out, your voice cracking. “I’m fine. I don’t need anyone. I just…I…”

Satoru doesn’t allow you to finish. He pulls your hands up to his chest and hugs you. Not just a friendly hug, he pulls you in tightly, almost as if he’s worried about losing you.

“It’s not okay” he says softly, stroking your hair. “You’re not okay.”

“I’m fine, I swear…” your voice cracks, and you know you’re close to crying. You’re not okay but it’d be better if he didn’t worry about you. You shouldn’t be so emotional anyway.

“I just…” you trail off. He’s holding you so tightly as he strokes your hair gently. It’s so soothing, and you can’t help but wish he would hold you like this always.

You just… you just want to be held.

He squeezes you tighter, and the two of you stay like this for a few moments. It’s too quiet, and you can almost hear his heartbeat.

Satoru presses a light kiss to your head then finally lets go. “I’ll run you a shower, okay? Go get cleaned up” he says softly. He holds your hand and walks you into the bathroom, helping you strip and giving you privacy. But it’s okay. You’ll be okay.

"But I don't want to shower" You whimpered annoyed

He gives you a firm look. “It wasn’t a question” he says simply, and begins undressing.

He’s already running the shower, and the bathroom fills with a warm haze. He strips out of his jacket and then his shirt, leaving only his boxers on. You can see the scars from countless battles marking his pale skin. Every muscle of his body is well-defined. And all you can do is stare in awe.

"You're gonna shower with me?" You spoke as he tugs you in towards the shower

“Of course.” He says it so simply and his bright blue eyes look into yours. “I’m gonna make sure there aren’t any razors in here, and then I’m gonna wash you myself. We need to clean out those cuts before they get infected.”

He stands under the water for a moment then grabs your soap, lathering your body with it slowly. He takes his time, moving gently and examining you closely. You almost feel like he’s worshipping you.

He takes a breath as he glances at your back and continues to lather you in soap. He’ll bring the burn up later. But for now he focuses solely on cleaning you.

Once he’s done, he reaches out and grabs the shampoo. “Head back, close your eyes.” You do, and he pours the shampoo onto your hair and then slowly washing it and massaging your scalp.

You trembled as your big burn scar on your back was exposed,memories flooded your mind,your mother pouring hot water on you calling you 'useless child'

You flinch and start to tremble as the memories return to you. The words from your mother play endlessly inside your head.

The sound of soap slipping through his hands brings you back to reality, and he continues to massage your scalp without skipping a beat.

He finishes massaging your hair gently, and then he takes the conditioner and rubs it through your hair carefully. He doesn't say anything for a moment until he's done, and then he pulls you against his chest tightly.

He rests his chin on the top of your head as he pulls you even closer. He nuzzles your hair and wraps his arms around you tightly. He holds you so close and protects you so gently. He doesn’t care about your scars or the pain that lingers over your heart. He doesn't know about your abusive past. He just holds you and comforts you, wanting nothing in return but your happiness. "It's okay" he says quietly, kissing the top of your head.

"it's not…ugly?" You asked trembling "i don't remember much..just my mum calling from the kitchen and then..she tooked the pot with boiling water in it that was supposed to be used for ramen and just…poured on me"

"Shh" he says, pressing his mouth onto your forehead to soothe you and distract you from those haunting memories.

"It doesn't matter" he whispers, as the water from the shower splashes.

"I don't care about your scars" he continues softly. "They're part of you. And who you are is beautiful."

The water cascades down your body, making your hair slick. He continues to trace his fingers along your scars, not judging or making any comments. Just… embracing them.

"Scars are proof that you survived what broke you" he says in a comforting tone. He kisses your forehead again and continues to stroke your hair as the water rinses the conditioner out.

"And that alone makes you strong" he says firmly.

"Plus, I think they look pretty. And who doesn't love scars?"

His tone is playful, although you can tell he's serious about not caring about the scars.

You feel like you're stuck in time. His voice is like a lullaby that soothes you. He strokes your hair, and the water makes your skin feel warm. You lean into him, and he holds you tighter.

All of your past trauma… all of your fears. It all feels like it's fading away in his arms. No matter how broken you may be, he'll always be there to pick up the pieces.

After a while, he turns off the water and dries you off with a towel before helping you put on a robe.

His hand runs up and down your back, massaging you and helping you relax. You're so grateful for his touch. After a while, he speaks up, his voice so gentle and soothing.

"Do you have a skincare routine?" He asks, sounding more curious than anything. "I'm guessing…you don't."

"do i look bad? does my skin feel bad?" You asked sounding hurt

"That's not what I meant" he says quickly. "Sorry, I guess I phrased that badly."

He pauses for a moment, thinking, and then gives you a small smile. "Your skin looks healthy. Maybe a little dull, but that's easy to fix. I was just wondering if you had a skincare routine or not."

When you don't reply, he continues "We should work on one for you" he says excitedly. "We can go out shopping together. I can show you the products I use. That would be fun, right? Plus, you wouldn't have to go out alone."

When he asks about shopping with you, he says it so excitedly, sounding like a kid asking his crush on a date.

"If you're the one putting products on me then.." you snuggled into his chest,you hand cupped and covered by the robe sleeve "I guess it will be okay" you mumbled

He chuckles and pulls you in closer. "Does that mean yes?" he asks softly, his hand stroking your cheek.

"And not just for shopping, I can help with applying products. And maybe you can try that face mask I bought. It says it'll give you 'radiant' dewy skin'."

He pauses for a beat and giggles softly. "I think it might look cute on your cheeks" he says, making you laugh too. The sound is so contagious.

Satoru smiles wider and ruffles your hair affectionately, his hands moving to your shoulders. "We could make a night of it. Order some food, and I can do a face mask too. I'm sure it'll look great on me." He winks playfully, clearly making up excuses to spend time with you.

Your eyes flicker to the floor when you realize that's all he wants. Time. As much time as he can make with you. He wants to fill each second of life with you.

“And I’ll tell you a secret.” He pauses for a beat again, and you listen intently, trying to understand what “secret” he would feel the need to tell you. “You’ll be the first person to see me with makeup on” he says in a whisper. “And I’m nervous.”

He chuckles lightly and rubs your shoulder again. The robe slips off your shoulder, and he pulls it back up, fixing it onto your body before speaking again.

“We should get matching face masks” he says. “Y’know, make it cute.” This time his tone is playful, and he grins down at you. “We could watch a movie or something. I’ll even set up a blanket fort for us to cuddle inside” he says, sounding like a child once again.

He’ll do anything for you. And you know that by now. His voice is so soft, and his eyes are warm as he studies your expression.

“And we’ll get snacks” he continues excitedly. “Popcorn, Doritos, chocolate. Do you like Cheetos? I can buy some cheesy Cheetos.”

He pauses, waiting for a response. It’s always cute to see him so giddy. “We’ll make a mountain of snacks out of the blanket fort and lie in it all night” he says, his voice full of wonder.

“I…I wanna make a memory with you, y’know? We can do anything you want.”

He rubs your shoulder again and then your hair. “So, what do you think? Wanna have a skincare night with me? We’ll make it a date night or something.”

He leans in and kisses your forehead. “And then we do the blanket fort the next time. You can decorate it however you want, and I’ll follow along.”

“And then you can tell me all about your scars” he chuckles, rubbing the back of your neck. “We can talk about anything you want.”

A few moments pass, and you don’t say anything, feeling lost in thought. Eventually, you speak with soft voice. “Yeah…” you say, feeling oddly giddy inside as if you’re a kid on Christmas morning. “That would be really nice, actually.”

He smiles and tilts your head up so that he can look you in the eye. “Then we have a date” he says, making his voice sound very enthusiastic. “It’ll be a big skin care night with movie and snacks and…”

“And more snacks, right?” you ask, and he nods enthusiastically.

“I’m gonna do a whole night dedicated to you” he continues. “We’ll focus on your skin, get some good food, and cuddle in a blanket fort.”

Your heart feels like it’s pounding through your chest as you think of all the things he suggested. “It sounds amazing…” you hesitate before continuing. “Do you promise it’s gonna be…c-cute?”

“It’ll be the cutest” he says with such conviction that you don’t know how it could be possible.

“Trust me, everything we do together is bound to turn out cute.” He grins goofily and strokes your cheek gently.

“It’ll be a date night of just us. I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.” He pauses for a moment and looks you in the eyes again. “Nothing would be cuter to me than just spending the night with you.”

You grin sheepishly as you stare back at him. Your stomach twists in knots and your skin flushes.

His words are simple but you melt at their sincerity.

His bright smile, his eyes filled with a soft kind of love. Just the way he stares at you and speaks to you fills you with butterflies.

You know that he means every single word; there's no deceit in them.

In the silence between you, you realize just how important he is to you. You can't imagine a life without him in it.

𝐹𝓎𝑜𝒹𝑜𝓇 𝒲𝒽𝑜…

Spoilers: Recent Chapter (114)

Warnings: Going on the theory he can switch bodies, Yandere!Fyodor towards the end, reader reincarnates, Fyodor kidnaps reader

Fyodor who meets you in his first body, walking in the streets as he asked you on a date-which you agreed too of course.

Fyodor who goes on countless dates with you-the movies, a cafe, a picnic, only the best options for you. You’ve charmed him into falling in love with you.

Fyodor who gets married to you, the most perfect wedding with the most perfect people. With how much he cares for you, Fyodor ensures the day goes just as planned.

Fyodor who switches bodies without you even noticing, how could you? He looked the same afterall-and acted as if nothing ever happened.

Fyodor who watches as you perish from old age, vowing to find you again one day. If he doesnt find you then he’ll pray god let you into heaven.

Fyodor who now is in his third body finds you again-reincarnated into a new form. He remembers every signs thing you did together and recreates all of those dates with you.

Fyodor who in his fourth life found you again-did the sane things yet rushed marriage as soon as he found you…

Fyodor in his fifth form Found you. Again. Got married. Again. Yet never payed much attention to you. After marriage he kept you as a stay at home mom, never really leaving the house unless it’s important. Your only friends being himself and your family.

Fyodor who is now in his 6th body, kidnaps you… Only he can protect you from the cursed world and Fyodor cannot bare to see you die again and forget all those memories. Even if it means he needs to keep you away from everything.

Fyodor who kills for you-having never left his house you dont have anyone to talk to anyway. Except if someone ever did something bad (to you or him), they’re dead to him.

Fyodor who leaves the house for a few months on a misson to Yokohama, telling you to stay inside and wait for him. As much as he hates it someone else can give you food for the time being.

——————————————————————————

...I made a gif

*Not Makkari and Kaet on their way back to the Domo after robbing Atlantis and accidentally sinking it*

tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @jolixtreesunn, @aphroditesmoon,

Genuine question out there to people that read reader inserts! (I read them myself)

What are your reading preferences?

What do you look for in a reader insert, and what makes for the best experience? Tenses, persons, etc.

I'm just feeling curious and thoughtful.

Angel

A/N: Inspired by the confession scene in Good Omens because OH MY GOD IT HURTS and i needed to release it somehow.

----------

“Do you think it’s easy?”

“What?”, His eyes met yours with a sense of confusion. 

“Do you?”

“You’re gonna have to elaborate here.”

“Do you think it’s easy to love someone who doesn’t even notice you?”

“I’m not following…”

“That’s the problem. You never follow.”

“I always follow you. I’m always here by your side. I don’t understand.”

You let out an angry sigh. Your hands run over your face in exasperation as he watches you spin in a circle where you stood. The frustration coming off of you was palpable. He just wasn’t getting it. He never did. He never noticed how you looked at him with so much love, did things you would never, ever do just for him. It was like you were just…an emotional support. A friend. Acquaintance at best. But in truth, you loved him. So unconditionally. It hurt you how much you loved him but he just never got it. 

“Ugh!”, you ruffled your hair as your hands ran down your face again, eyes tearing up. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re here. But you don’t see it. You don’t see me.”

“But I can see you right now…”, His obliviousness made it more painful as he stood still, eyes tearing in response to your own.

“Not…Not like that. Why can’t you open your stupidly beautiful eyes and notice me! What I’ve done to be with you. For you. For us!”

You were met with a confused, teary look. You sighed as he tilted his head in that same confusion.

“Everything I’ve done, the loans, the apartment, the banishment, the tea, hot chocolate, wine. Crepes. It was all for you. And yet for the many years I’ve known you, you’ve never once thought that it was because I wanted us to be us. Not me and you. Not you and me. Us.”

Understanding slowly crept in as he shook his head at you,

“I noticed! I have. I promise you. I want us to be us too!”

“No you don’t. If you did, why would you take the offer when we were so close to being us. After all this time, we finally reached a point where we can be us and you’re leaving! Just like that.”

A tear tracked down his face slowly as you paced a few steps. A frustrated growl left you. 

“Can’t you see that? All you’re doing by leaving is ruining us. What we’ve always wanted to be! We've been together, side by side for that many years and this is it? You’re just leaving? Offering me something I never wanted? Something that you want, can have so easily but want me to follow you? To that place? That’s not happening.”

His lips parted with a regretful noise as he reached out to you with a small step forwards. 

“We can be happy over there! I can make a change! A good one! With you… we can be us still! Just over… there.”

“Nothing lasts forever.”

“That’s it then?”

He sighs. You stare him down with pained, tearful eyes as he stares back. 

“I suppose it is.”

You nod once and storm past him. Stopping at the door, you look back briefly. He turned to watch you go, eyes teary as he met your now angry eyes.

“After all of it, angel… I would’ve thought this would end differently. With us. But nothing lasts forever, right?”

You continue your walk to the door before pausing again. You couldn’t just express it with words. The silence hung in the air as you stood in the doorway for a few heartbeats, your breathing ragged and matching his as he stood and watched you. Trembling in place. That’s what he was doing. Tears in his eyes as he waited for you to just walk out and leave. You sighed again. Storming back down the few steps and straight to him as he opened his mouth to question you, you slammed your lips against his as he froze. 

Your lips moved against his as he frantically reached for something to ground himself in the reality that you were kissing him. Kissing him. Yeah… that was otherworldly. You pulled away abruptly and burst through the doors, his eyes watching you go as his shaky hands raised to his lips. He was shaking. Hands trembling, lips trembling, eyes filled with even more tears as you left him before he could leave you. 

You stood beside your car, observing the neighborhood once more, knowing you were probably never going to be back there again as long as he wasn’t. Even then, you weren’t certain. 

Nothing lasts forever, anyways.

Daddy's Girl (Sukuna x FemChildReader [familial]) HCs

So reader is some little girl that curiously ate Sukuna's finger. This leads to the King of curses accidentally adopting you, --some dumb, fatherless kid. Lmao

Fluff cuz i want soft wholesome sukuna and no, i'm not projecting. Stop thinking that, no one will ever believe you 🔫🙃

Not proof-read but still good, if i say so myself ;>

==================================

-When he first comes into your mind, he's shook for a moment then appalled the next.

-"Out of all the humans in this world, it's this weakling i've coveted."

-rolls his eyes and tries to rethunk how he'll ever come to his true form from a puny girl such as yourself.

-Dw tho, he thinks your funny. As in he thinks you're a dumbass when he watches you go about your daily life.

-Pops in from your cheek to tell you to watch where you're going when you almost walked into a lamp pole, or a bustling street of cars.

-Calls you "brat" and "dumb/foolish girl," followed by an unecessarily berating comment.

-Eventually, that sensitive part of you kicks in at times and his words get to you. You're just a kid after all. So now he's forced to do things he wouldn't usually do:

-"Stop crying, it's boring and the noise is unpleasant." He'd grumble in your head, noting to ease up on his words. For his sake, of course.

-There was a time when you had a nightmare of your father's passing. Your cries were so unpleasant that Sukuna had to make a visit into your little night terror.

-When you see him there, you run to him for a hug. Not thinking twice about wrapping your arms around him securely for comfort.

-Stiffens when he feels your little arms around him. He does notice that your crying stopped so he let's you. He just wants some quiet time, is all.

-When you finally calm, he tries to put your conciousness to rest. Only for you to end up falling asleep with his fingers held by your hand.

-Later calls you things like, "Little one" or "Child," in a stern manner. He's just doing that to belittle you so you always know you're place.

-You accidentally called him "Papa" once, and he's accidentally surprised, and accidentally didn't hate it.

-He did however hate when Gojo found out about you and took you in. Making sure to grumble about every little thing he does for you.

-When you're going about your little elementary day, he reminds you to pay attention.

-Helps you with homework. He says it's because he's proving he's superior to Gojo as a mentor, not because he cares about you.

-Could never find it in his cold, dead beat heart to hurt you. Quite the opposite actually, would rather carry you away securely in his arms as those who even thought of hurting you, burns away behind his back.

-He figures after he returns to his final form, he'll keep you. Only because he tolerates you, his little girl amusing nuisance. Nothing more.

==================================

I'm baaack y'all :D

Winter break is around the corner and i finally have the brain to write again. I've actually never sat and watched the Jjk anime lol

Maybe in the break, I will.

-oh, and anyone has permission to make this into a full fledged fic 👀

==================================

Tags:

Hello!!! I'm dragonzfanfics11

I'm gonna try out fanfic writing and this is my first ever post so bear with me 😅

Im not gonna say much about me yet all I'm gonna say is I'm a girl who is obsessed with alot of characters lol

Anyways! Here's some fandoms I'm in and will try to write for!

•kipo and the age of wonderbeasts

•she-ra

•ramshackle

•httyd (not the series tho sorry)

•arcane

•homesick (the webtoon)

•school bus graveyard

•spellward bound (underrated fr)

•percy jackson (I haven't completed the series so it's a little limited)

•the dragon prince

•avatar the last air bender

•the owl house

•helluva boss

•hazbin hotel

•The arcana (only julian, muriel,and Lucio though I haven't done Nadias and portas routes yet!)

•morgana and oz (webtoon)

•maybe more just ask if I've seen it and I'll add it the list if I have!

Thank you for taking the time to check this out! <3

ok if you've read my stone x Small Rockstar! Reader parts (If you haven't here's part 1) I'd like some ideas for if I make a part 3 where should I take this story next? Let's see how far I can take this series!

Also I'll take any requests for a little while before going on another break probably around this Thursday!

Hello! this is a req page for anyone whom wants to see a character x reader request. Here is the master list

I will only write for these characters! no exceptions!

THH:

Chihiro

Chihiro, Sayaka, and Aoi with an affectionate but shy S/O

Sayaka

Chihiro, Sayaka, and Aoi with an affectionate but shy S/O

Mondo

Ishimaru

Ishimaru with an Insecure S/O

Celestia

S/O who is scared of cats

Leon

Leon with a hotheaded small S/O

Leon with an fem S/O whom put on makeup to impress him

Makoto

Kyoko

Byakuya

Mukuro

Junko(Non-despair)

Aoi

Chihiro, Sayaka, and Aoi with an affectionate but shy S/O

Sakura

Toko

SDR2:

Akane

Chiaki

Fuyuhiko

Clingy and touch starved S/O

Gundham

S/O whom worships them

S/O who is scared of cats

Hajime

Hiyoko

Ibuki

S/O who dyed their hair

Kazuichi

Mahiru

Mikan

Mikan getting a puppy for her S/O after there dog had died

Nagito

Peko

S/O whom dyed their hair

S/O who is scared of cats

Sonia

V3:

Kaede

Shuichi

Himiko

Kaito

Kirumi

S/O who worships them

S/O who is scared of cats

Tenko

Gonta

Tsumugi

K1-B0

Angie

Kokichi

Miu

Ryoma

S/O who worships them

S/O who is scared of cats

Maki

Rantaro

UDG:

Komaru

BNHA:

Mei

Deku

Bakugou

Todoroki, Bakugou, and Uraraka with an S/O whom makes jokes about childhood trauma

Todoroki

Todoroki, Bakugou, and Uraraka with an S/O whom makes jokes about childhood trauma

Ochaco

Todoroki, Bakugou, and Uraraka with an S/O whom makes jokes about childhood trauma

Kirishima

S/O whom wants to be his sidekick

S/O who is shy until they have been dating for a while

Kaminari

S/O who is shy until they have been dating for a while

COOKIE RUN:

Pure Vanilla

Red Velvet

Parfait

Espresso

Madeleine

Latte

Raspberry

Almond

Mint Choco

Rockstar

RULES:

I will write NSFW but I have standards and will not write anything too crazy or that makes me uncomfortable

Angst is okay but keep it calm.

FLUFF IS A BIG YES

Dont request if request box is closed, that means I can’t and will not write your request.

Hey there, can I request for ROR anubis x modern reader where the reader is bored and try to summon anubis for fun and think it wouldn't work, but it end up working and now there a random Anubis in her room feel free to add what after this ~ thank you

A/N: Gladly anon! I'd love to write about silly little nubby. Hope it's what you wanted ♡

The unlikely jackal-headed companion 🐺🎃

Ror!Anubis x fem!reader

➩ A modern day girl who's favourite interest had always been Egyptian mythology, especially the god Anubis.

Found her adult life to be rather boring, so when she stumbled upon a website that could help her summon these ancient gods.

For fun she tries it, not expecting it to work until she is proven wrong and now Anubis himself has entered the mortal realm, as well as her home.

➩ Reader type: fem!reader.

⚠: Platonic & Romantic Fluff!!

In a small suburban town, nestled between towering buildings and grey streets, lived a young lonesome woman named y/n.

She was currently seated in her room adorned with posters of ancient Egyptian art and books, filled with its fascinating mythology, gods and history.

Something y/n had been fond of ever since she was a child.

But life as an adult was rather boring now, with work and other tasks keeping her away from her interests and hobbies.

Until y/n felt that sudden urge of curiosity again, rushing through her mind and body.

Soon enough y/n found herself engrossed scrolling online, stumbling upon an online tutorial on summoning the ancient Egyptian gods.

Half out of scepticism and half out of sheer boredom, y/n decided to try the summoning ritual for Anubis.

After all, Anubis was one of her favourite deities. Y/n chuckled at the stupidity and the fact this wasn't going to work.

Because it wouldn't, right?

She gathered the necessary items - candles, incense, and a makeshift altar adorned with skulls and other trinkets she found around the house.

Thinking to herself:

"If Anubis really does exist he would definitely like these, hah!"

As y/n chanted the ancient words she had gotten from the website, with a hint of amusement, she never expected anything to happen.

But to her surprise, a sudden wind and glow enveloped the room, and a mysterious figure materialised before her.

Anubis, the god of the afterlife with his jackal head, stood before her in all his majestic glory.

Y/n eyes widened in disbelief as she stumbled backward, tripping and falling to the ground. Her heart was racing in her chest, more than ever before.

"W-What..?! That wasn't supposed to-"

Y/n stutters to herself, trying to keep her cool as she shakes uncontrollably at Anubis's presence.

Anubis, as he looked around the room slowly, taking in his new surroundings was still barely visible to really make out. Because of the sudden glow to have hit the room.

While trying to adjust her sight, y/n was certain Anubis was here to collect her soul or at least judge her heart for having called upon him as a joke.

However, to her shock when the god spoke, he sounded rather thrilled to be there.

"Well, this was unexpected and delightful!" he exclaimed, his voice resonating through the room.

It wasn't as deep and booming as y/n had imagined it sounding like.

In fact, he sounded like an excited puppy who somehow knew how to talk.

Did she hit her head when she fell and was now dreaming, or perhaps even worse had she gone mad?

Unused to being summoned in the modern world, Anubis continues to look around with childlike wonder, his dark eyes sparkling.

Y/n was almost left with her mouth wide open when she finally got to see and admire the god before her.

His head wasn't actually the head of a jackal, but instead it was his headwear!

Underneath all that he was a handsome man, with dark tanned skin, sharp teeth and piercings on his chin, but also tongue.

Y/n had to gulp and blush slightly to herself, for some reason feeling embarrassed about this humanoid form of his.

Noticing y/n's bewilderment, Anubis approached her closer with a grin, offering his hand to help the woman up.

"Greetings, mortal! I am Anubis, the guardian of the afterlife. What brings you to summon me today?"

Stammering, y/n managed to grab a hold of the gods hand reluctantly while replying, she was scared his sharp nails or claws would touch her at first.

"I... I didn't really think this would work, please forgive me my lord!"

Anubis chuckled lightly, his soft laughter was admittedly very cute making y/n's heart skip a little beat.

"The whims of mortals! Fear not, if this wasn't a part of your plan I totally understand! But if you don't mind me asking, what assistance can I be to you then?"

With a nervous expression, y/n took a deep breath and the chance to think about it.

What could she possibly come up with to make Anubis, a literal god's time, be worth the while in the mortals realm?

"I suppose..somehow entertain me? If that isn't too much to ask for of course!! It's just that, these days are quite uneventful.."

Y/n to ease her nerves starts twirling some of her hair using her index finger.

A common habit she did whenever she needed a distraction.

Anubis, realising the woman was still tense, smirks to himself and thinks about a way to help her.

"Then I am here to make your mundane day more thrilling, my lady! I see your room is decorated with quite a few familiar things."

He happily pointed out, already seeing y/n's eyes light up at his comment and sharp eye.

"Oh really?! I'm so glad you find them familiar, I was afraid it would look weird to you somehow, considering I'm not from ancient Egypt!"

"Hey, don't worry about it, I love seeing people appreciate my culture."

"Phew, what a relief..!"

"But a particular reason why I am your favourite~?" Anubis without warning teased y/n, raising his eyebrow as his face leaned in close to hers.

It felt like her whole body was about to explode and her face turned red.

Damn it! She should have prepared herself for this question considering the jackal headed gods depiction was included almost everywhere!

"W-Well, you are my favourite..!"

Y/n responded in a panic, was he seriously playing with her right now?

Was this a way to catch her off guard or to test her in some way or another?

Before y/n could say anything any further, Anubis, ever the playful deity, leaped into the air out of pure happiness.

"Yippee~!!" The god exclaimed as he accidentally landed near her.

The sudden weight caused y/n to lose her balance, and she tumbled onto the bed alongside the ancient god.

"Oh uh..that was an accident, I didn't mean to scare or get that excited!"

Anubis pleaded, genuinely upset about his actions. He quickly got off y/n but all the woman could do was sigh as she had accepted her new fate.

"Honestly, this is already keeping me entertained enough."

I am bored out of my mind, so I just wanted to share a list of characters I write requests for:

Marvel

Frank castle

Billy Russo

Jessica Jones

Natasha Romanov

Karen Page

Amy Bendix

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Claire Novak

Actors/Actresses

Jensen Ackles

Kathryn Newton

Jon Bernthal

Charlie Hunnam

Tom Hardy

Deborah Ann Woll

Giorgia Whigham

Other characters ,rules ,etc.

I am in a ton of fandoms , the characters above are generally what I like to write about but if you want another character feel free to send in a request. I can't guarantee but maybe I will pick it up and write about them.😉

I don't really write smut, I would write fluff and maybe light suggestive smut scenes but nothing too heavy

prompt masterlist୧

navigation . rules . prompt list . masterlist.

⋆｡˚events - 1k cafe event . birthday celebration

enemies to lovers- promptlist

second chance trope- promptlist

forbidden love- promptlist

Reader who makes cute little wooden figurines or crochets cute chibi dolls and makes one for their partner.

Or.

Reader who makes cute bracelets and gives them to their friends or partner. Personally this one would be amazing for Haikyuu.

My master list of ideas

Repost plz!