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mhaccunoval · 5 years

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"I'll protect you!!!! I'm BATMAN!!" + charmac

11:41 AMOn a MondayPhiladelphia, PA

This felt like déjà vu.

Like, serious, full-blown déjà vu. Right down to the rhythm of their steps, in-sync with each other but not with the unmatched pace of their conversation. Even that was exactly the same.

But, the first difference was the absence of dog shit on the edge of the sidewalk. Without it there, Charlie didn’t consciously decide to step in it (to his own dismay) and actually got a few steps ahead of Mac. This, unfortunately, meant that he was directly under the hanging piano that neither had noticed, Mac a few paces behind him.

The thin rope that piano hung from was nearly frayed all the way through when Charlie paused in his tracks and turn to tell Mac something, the instrument lingering just above him.

“Chawlie!” Frank, surprisingly, shouted from across the street as it went midair, prompting Charlie to look at him.

Within moments, Mac felt an adrenaline rush, beginning to sprint, exclaiming, “I’ll protect you! I’m Batman!” (not that he wasn’t entirely sure where the latter bit had come from.) But, as he was seconds from being within a foot of the shorter man, at a distance to shove him out of the way or pull him inwards to protect him with his own body, he tripped and landed face first.

It was only seconds before he witnessed the piano fall, landing on Charlie’s lower half, having fallen onto his back while cowering in fear. He let out a blood-curdling, high-pitched scream once the impact set in, sending a panic through Mac’s chest.

“CHARLIE!” He shrieked, scrambling to get over to where Charlie was seizing with insurmountable pain.

Mac skidded on his knees as he knelt and tried his best to pull Charlie into his lap, oblivious to the rest of the gang running over to surround them. Charlie was sobbing from the pain but Mac and everyone else tried to keep their heads, all feeling tears prickle their eyes nonetheless. Mac’s arms were hooked under Charlie’s and were holding his chest, chin rested on the crown of Charlie’s head.

Over the next few minutes, Charlie’s sobs quieted down, as well as his grip on Mac’s hands lessened. His head was slowly lulling backwards, in which that was the point Mac’s internal prayer picked up its pace and intensity, anxious that he was slowly losing him. Charlie’s head was fully laid back in his lap a minute later, a minute, weary smile across his face under the airy exhales through his nose.

Mac’s chest was tight and his throat was closing in on itself. The color was draining from Charlie’s face, most likely from the blood loss, and his green eyes were turning dark and cold. He managed a soft chuckle with baited breath as he blinked up sluggishly at the tears beginning to fall from Mac’s eyes.

“It’s okay…”

Mac awoke with a jolt, covered in a layer of cold sweat. Those final of the dream were echoing in his ears and chilling him to his bones with a residual panic. Thankfully, the hot breath against his neck and the feeling of warm skin meshed with his grounded him to reality seconds later.

“Charlie?” He asked quietly, glancing over his shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of who was spooning him, their hand now more protectively holding his waist after his initial stirring.

“What?” Charlie groaned behind him, voice, already ladden with sleep, half muffled from having his face pressed where Mac’s neck met his shoulders.

“Nothing… It’s fine…” Mac assured, taking a deep breath and wiping his eyes a little.

“Mmm…” Charlie grumbled, pulling him closer.

Charlie always insisted on being the big spoon while cuddling but Mac didn’t mind because he was like a small heater that contorted perfectly to his body. They usually found themselves in the position where Charlie was pressed heavily into Mac’s back, face gently kissing his neck until he eventually fell asleep snoring, with his arms at Mac’s waist (in which Mac usually positioned one or both of his arms to hold his hands) and a leg slotted between Mac’s.

In this current endeavor to pull closer, Charlie’s leg moved nearer to his crotch accidentally and continued to rest there, just out of reach of touching everything there. On the other hand (literally), his hands were in even closer proximity, just grazing his waistband.

“Dude,” Mac sighed, “Can you move your- Actually, I got it…”

With that, he rolled over so they were facing each other, taking Charlie in his arms to hold him against his chest. It was mostly just because now he had the vantage point to be higher up on the bed than Charlie’s short stature, but also he wanted to make sure that Charlie was safe and well, unlike in his nightmare.

Charlie just went with it, going back to snoring softly not long after.

In the morning, Mac got up first, body not allowing him to sleep any longer after the nervous energy in the middle of the night, so he decided to put on a pot of coffee for when both Charlie and Dennis got up (assuming Dennis was home). He sat up on the counter, swinging his legs, thinking of nothing in particular, when he heard the shuffling of feet and watched a tiny figure come waddling out.

He chuckled a little seeing Charlie’s bedhead and the groggy look on his face, drool dried on his chin.

“‘Morning, baby boy…” Mac greeted tenderly, kissing the top of his head as Charlie wrapped his arms around his waist. Charlie just mumbled something incoherent from where his face was pushed into Mac’s stomach.

The coffee maker beeped that it was done brewing and so Mac reached behind himself to grab them both a mug. He poured his own coffee into a Phillies mug that nobody remembered how they acquired and poured Charlie’s into a Phantom of the Opera cup that they had had for years.

“Babe…” He laughed when Charlie refused to move as he tried to get off the counter for sugar and creamer. Charlie only conceded when he was handed his mug (which was just straight black).

It took a few good sips of his coffee for Charlie to wake up most of the way, opting to watch the steam rise rather than Mac making his mug to his tastes over by the fridge.

“So what was all that fuss about last night?” Charlie yawned, leaning his back against the counter-top, holding his mug with both hands.

“Oh,” Mac said, “Just a bad dream ’s all…”

“About?” Charlie’s brow was raised with curiosity as he now watched Mac.

“Do you remember when you kicked me out of the way of that piano a few days before I came out? Came out for real for real, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“It was that but we had switched places and it didn’t end too well.” Mac looked to him with a sad look in his eye.

“Oh.” was all Charlie could manage, not really sure of how to respond.

“It just made me think of all the times I couldn’t save you throughout the years… From your uncle, from getting yourself in trouble, from that time Dennis hit you with his car. Just… A lot of things.” Mac continued, for once wanting to fully explain why it bothered him.

“Again, Jack didn’t ever molest me,” Charlie feigned, “But anyway… Dude, it’s fine. You’re just one person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t save everyone from everything, man.”

“Yeah, but-”

“If you say that you can try, I will smack you.” Charlie threatened lovingly as he walked over and snaked an arm around Mac’s waist, holding his mug in his other hand.

Mac just sighed and smiled, finishing stirring his coffee and taking a sip, putting an arm around Charlie’s shoulders right after. Charlie squished his cheek on Mac’s shoulder and flushed slightly when Mac kissed his forehead.

“Gross…” Dennis yawned as he wandered in, cuing both Mac and Charlie to look over at him.

They just giggled among themselves as watched him grab his Penn State mug and pour himself some coffee.

#pant rambles #mhac writes #iasip #drabble #charmac #this took way too long but isn't too terrible #i was gonna go soft but i was like 'nah. angst >:)'#also the mugs are based on mugs we have at home #we have an actual phantom one. and we have a cincinnati reds instead of phillies one. plus a university of kentucky instead of penn state #anon

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miscfanfics · 2 years

Text

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia: S11 E8

A Fan Fiction by MiscFanFics

Charlie Kelly x Female Reader

Warnings:

Smut

Unprotected

Public Copulation

Language

18+ only

Alcohol consumption

Minor spoilers for IASIP (season 11)

~~~Gifs do not belong to me!~~~

Today is Thursday, March 17th. Your coworker asked you to come out with her for drinks tonight to a place called Paddy’s Pub. An Irish Pub on Saint Patrick’s Day sounds like a claustrophobic nightmare, but you are desperate to get out of the house.

You don’t have work today, so you sleep in until noon. Let’s face it, you need the extra sleep to be able to make it all night without a midday nap. You lay in bed and scroll on your phone for an hour. When you finally get up, you take a shower, and with your towel draped around you, you search for an outfit. You own exactly 5 articles of clothing that are green. You settle on wearing jeans, a cardigan sweater, and a shirt adorned with a shamrock and text that reads, “Kiss Me I’m Irish.” Cliche as it may be, maybe it will help you get lucky tonight. You haven’t had a proper lay in months.

Just as you’re finishing getting ready, a blue bubble appears on your phone screen. “I’m here,” the text reads. You sigh, and shove your feet into a pair of Chuck Taylors on your way out the door. When you arrive at Paddy’s Pub, the place is only semi-packed. You and your coworker go right to the bar to order your first round. There is a tall, muscular guy manning the bar. He takes your drink orders, and completely ignoring them, he brings back 2 short beers. “Well, when in Ireland…” your coworker says. You clink your mugs together, and you both take a swig.

“That bartender is kind of hot,” she says.

You nod your head in agreement, “Yeah, but I think he’s gay.”

“How would you know?” she asks.

“Just a hunch,” you shrug. You notice another man appear, wearing the same “Paddy’s Irish Pub” shirt as the bartender. He’s a tad shorter than the first guy, but you find him to be much more attractive. You admire him for a moment: beautiful green eyes, brown hair, and brown facial hair to match. Though not as jacked as the tall guy, you consider him to be rather fit. He is so fine. He approaches the tall guy, they chat briefly, and they start walking out from behind the counter.

The tall guy turns to the crowded room and announces, “Attention, everybody. Irish honor system. Please serve yourselves. Put the money in the bucket. Thank you.” Everyone cheers, and the employees disappear behind a door in the back.

“At least now we won’t have to pay for these shitty beers we didn’t order,” you say, and your coworker laughs. You take another drink as you watch the door close behind the men. You two start chatting up a couple of cuties in the bar. They are funny and interesting, but they are getting sloshed pretty quickly due to the free booze. You turn to your coworker, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you say.

As you knew she would, she responds, “Oooh! I’ll go with you.” You both primp yourselves in the mirror. “I was really enjoying those guys, but they’re too drunk now. I hope the hot bartender comes back,” she swoons.

“I hope so too,” you say, thinking of the shorter guy, and not the muscle man.

She turns away from the mirror and faces you, “Okay, how are we going to fairly decide who gets him. Should we let him choose?”

You snap out of your daze, “Oh, no I wasn’t talking about the taller bartender. Did you see the guy he left with? I’ve got my eyes on him.”

“Hell yeah, we’re gonna bone bartenders tonight! It’s like a Saint Patrick’s Day miracle!” she says, a little too loudy. You laugh and shush her.

“So, we just hang around here until they come back?”

“Yes, and when they do, we flirt, but be subtle. Unless they aren’t noticing us, then we shamelessly throw ourselves at them. Sound good?” she offers.

“That works! Playing hard to get is normally how I do it,” you state.

Outside the bathroom, you both see the tall guy heading for the door out of the pub. She approaches him. “Hey you,” she says seductively, and bats her eyelashes at him. “Leaving so soon? I was hoping to get to know you better,” clearly, subtly was out the window.

The tall guy brushes her off, he barely even looks at her. “I have to go to The Rainbow.”

“The Rainbow?” she echoes.

“Yeah, the gay bar. I have to see something,” he says, opening the door. He exits. She looks back at you, stunned but amused, as you approach her.

“You were right about him after all. Well, I’m 0 for 2. Let’s go to The Dugout down the street, some of my girl friends are going. Maybe I won’t strike out there.”

“You go ahead, I’ll meet you guys there in a while. I have to find my wallet,” you mention. You’re not sure what happened to it.

“Okay, but you should still try to sleep with your bartender, too,” she encourages with a wink.

People are leaving in packs despite it still being daylight out. This place is a dud. You search the entire building: under the tables, behind the bar, on the pool table, at the counter, in the bucket. Unfortunately, you’re unable to find your wallet. It’s a good thing you never carry cash on you. Meanwhile, you’re hoping your bartender will come back from wherever it is he went. Your coworker calls, she has made it to the second bar and found her friends. She wants to know when you’re coming and if you had a chance to shoot your shot with the other bartender. You tell her you couldn’t find your wallet and that your guy never came back. You accept defeat, and tell her you are on the way.

You head out of Paddy’s Pub, and start towards The Dugout, when you see the other bartender. He’s wearing a green spandex tank top, and he’s covered in glitter. He actually looks more attractive to you now. You’re happy for him, and you make a mental note to tell your coworker about it. At the new bar, you find her familiar face and join her table. You order a water.

“Get a mojito or something, it’s a national holiday,” she says, slurring her words. You notice she’s sporting a green beaded necklace that she wasn’t wearing before.

“I can’t find my wallet, remember?” you chuckle at her drunkenness.

“Ohhh yeah that. Are you sure you checked everywhere? Retrace your, um, steps. We went to the bathroom, remember that? Did you leave it next to the sink?”

“The bathroom! I didn’t even check there! Do you mind if I…” you start to say.

She shoes you away, and in a terrible, tipsy attempt at an Irish accent, she says, “May the luck of the Irish be with you!”

After you confirm that your coworker has a sober friend nearby, you decide to go back to Paddy’s to look for it again. You walk inside, not a soul to be seen. You hear someone digging around under the bar. You assume it’s the tall, glitter guy.

“Are you guys still open?” you call out to the shoes you see poking out from behind the counter. The noise lifts their knees off the floor and starts to stand.

You hear a man’s voice say, “Not really, sorry. We’re busy doing other stuff now.” Your cheeks turn pink, and they burn hot with timidity as a pair of green eyes meet yours.

You take a few steps toward him, your bartender. Seeing as how he disappeared for so long, you really didn’t think you’d run into him again. “I’m sorry. I-I was here earlier, and I think I left my wallet.”

“Oh, yeah, the leprechaun pickpocketed a bunch of people, but we got everything back from him. Bag’s right over there, go have a look,” he said. You kind of think he is kidding, but he is totally aloof. You dig through a duffle bag full of wallets at the far end of the counter.

“Can I ask you something?” you want to initiate a conversation with the gorgeous stranger.

“Go ahead,” he says, carefully studying a piece of paper.

“Why is your mouth green?” you ask.

“I’ve been drinking green paint,” he says.

“Why would you drink green paint?”

“It’s festive,” he says confidently. You find this charming for some reason, and you giggle. “Find it yet?” he asks.

“No, but I found a phone charger - I actually need this - a condom, and an unopened thing of Tic-Tacs. Is that okay if I keep the phone charger?”

“Take it,” he says, not looking up. He’s still looking down at his paper, becoming visually frustrated.

“Thanks, um, do you need help with something?” you ask, determined to stay.

“Actually, yeah. Can you read this to me? It got these new rat traps and like, I don’t know how to use them. And I can’t read. I’m not dumb, I promise, I’m just not good at words and shit.”

“I would never think you’re dumb.” He hands you the paper, he’s smiling at you. God, even his smile is stunning. He has perfect teeth. You read the instructions to him, and he starts to put the traps around the building. You follow him along, chatting casually. You both enter the women’s bathroom. After he places the trap, he comes out of the stall. “All done,” he says. He then presents a wallet to you, “This yours?”

“My wallet, oh my god! Thank you!” Without even thinking you pull him in for a hug, but you let go fast realizing this total stranger might not want you to touch him. “Oh, sorry. I’m just so happy you found this!”

“I’m glad,” he smiles. You follow him out of the bathroom, stopping as you approach the bar. You hand him the rat trap instructions, “Here’s that back.”

“Thanks,” he sets the paper down, and stretches his arm to the other side of the bar and grabs a beer. “And thanks for reading it for me. No one is usually willing to help me with Charlie work,” he comments, cracking open and sipping the beer.

“Charlie work?”

“Oh, um, right. Charlie, that’s my name, and I set the traps and clean the toilets and stuff. My gang calls it ‘Charlie work.’”

“Oh! Well, I’m happy to do it, Charlie,” you say sweetly. “Here, I’ll give you my number,” you grab a napkin and pen off a table nearby and write down your name and number. “Call me anytime, I’ll help you with Charlie work whenever you want,” you say, as you hand him the napkin. You want him to make the next move because up until now, you’ve just been trying to bait him into conversation, and he seems rather indifferent. You decide you should leave while the ball is in his court. You glance over at the door, “Anyway, I suppose I should head out, since you're done for today. Thank you again for finding my wallet.”

“Well, should I kiss you now then?” he asks. You are startled, and he must see it all over your face because he continues, “Y’know, like your shirt. ‘Kiss me, I’m Irish.’”

“Oh, right, the shirt… Wait, I thought you couldn’t read?” you lightheartedly question.

“Well, yeah, I can’t really. But I have worked in this bar for, like, a while. We see a fuckload of these shirts every year around this time, being an Irish pub and all that. So yeah, I guess I just remember what that says,” he explains.

“Fair enough,” you shrug. “But you can definitely kiss me… if you want to.” you say kind of nervously.

“Are you actually Irish? ‘Cause a lot of people who wear those aren’t really even Irish.”

“I am yeah,” you laugh, “on my father’s side.”

“Right, cool. I’ll kiss you then,” he says nonchalantly. He puts his hands on your waist. You put your arms around his neck. He leans in and gives you a tender, soft kiss on your mouth. You kiss him back.

“Charlie, you’re a really good kisser,” you say, delighted.

He lets out a small laugh, “If you think that’s good…” He grabs you passionately, kissing you harder now. He slips his tongue inside of your mouth. You allow him to discover your mouth, your tongue dancing with his. You are moaning quietly. This is the most action you’ve had in a minute. Things were getting hot and heavy. You and Charlie were groping each other and dry humping. You could feel his hard-on pressed up against you. “You wanna…” he starts to speak. Looking into your eyes, he licks his lips. He has this innocent puppy dog look on his face.

You wish that you could play hard to get, that you could watch him beg for a moment, but you weren’t sure how into you he was. You had to take the opportunity now, “Oh god, yes.” He continues French kissing you.

You can’t believe this is happening, your groin tingles. You take your sweater off, then grab at the sides of his shirt. He parts from your mouth for just a second so you can remove your respective shirts. Then, he immediately puts his lips back where they were. He grabs you by your hips, and guides you backwards toward the counter. He helps you up onto a barstool, and sinks into your body between your legs, his lips never leaving yours. He’s kind of sloppy, but you find him so incredibly sexy that it’s turning you on even more.

You wrap your legs around him, and you kick your shoes off behind his back. You take one of his hands off your hip, and you bring it to your breast. With his other hand, he reaches around to your back. In no time, he has your bra unclasped, and you discard it. He massages your breasts, paying special attention to your nipples. You are moaning, and your underwear are drenched. He puts his face on your breasts, kissing and sucking so gently.

At the same time, he glides his hands down your body, feeling and cherishing every curve. He tugs at your jeans. You reach down to undo your button, so he undoes his own. His pants fall to the floor. You wiggle your pants and underwear off of your bottom, and he pulls them off the rest of the way.

Your mouths remeet. He works his shoes off, and gets the pants away from his ankles. He still has his boxers on, concealing his rock hard cock. You scoot closer to the edge of the barstool to grind up on his clothed penis with your bare pussy. You move your hips side to side ever-so-slightly, creating friction between the two of you. His head falls back and he begins to moan. You plant kisses down his neck, and you suck on the skin near his collarbone, still grinding your hips. “You like that?” you tease.

“I fucking love it,” he breaths out. He puts one hand on the back of your head, and pulls you in to kiss you again. His other hand starts at your knee and works its way up. His fingers lightly tickle the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. You are quivering beneath his touch. He moves his finger through your folds, he stops at your clit and pleasures it. Your back arches, and your head falls back, almost resting on the countertop. He kisses your neck. “Fuck me, Charlie,” you whisper. His finger penetrates you. You let out a loud moan. He slips a second finger inside you, and you grab his face for some more mouth-to-mouth. He moves his fingers in and out of you a few times, hitting your g-spot with every motion. “Fuck yes!” you scream as you orgasm.

When you’re done coming, he goes over to the bag of wallets, “Gimme a second.” You hop down off the stool, and make yourself comfortable on the pool table. “Got it,” he walks over to you, a condom in hand.

“We don’t need that,” you say, bringing him back to his place between your legs and pulling him in for a kiss.

“Um, yeah, okay. Why?” he asks in between kisses.

“I’m clean, are you clean?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You take his word for it.

“Then we don’t need that, and you can just pull out,” you say, nibbling at his ear and brushing your lips across the adorable freckles on his shoulder.

“Cool, whatever works, man,” he comments casually. He finally tears his boxers off as he lets the condom fall to the floor. You lay down on your back, he climbs up on the pool table and hovers over you. He rubs your wetness on his throbbing member. He enters you, and steadily goes deeper and deeper. Once he’s all the way in, you both quietly cry out in ecstasy. He feels so good.

“You’re like, super tight,” he says. You constrict around his erection a little tighter. “Fuck!” he expresses with delight. You smile devilishly at him, he is in awe of you. You flip him onto his back. You loosen up, and ride him. He smacks your ass; his hand lingers, then he squeezes. “Make yourself come,” he demands.

As you bounce up and down on him, he props himself up with one arm, and he sucks on your breasts some more. You rest your chin on the top of his head, and wrap one arm around his back; your other hand grabs onto his hair. “I’m close, I’m really close,” you gasp. He moves his lips to your mouth, and puts his free hand on your nipple and plays with it. You kiss him for a moment, then you come up for air. He bites your lower lip. He’s still tickling your breast, and you’re still humping him. “Oh fuck, Charlie!” you moan as you come for the second time.

Quickly, he flips you over, returning you to your back. He thrusts into you again and again. He begins to slow down; he’s trying to edge you, or himself. Or he’s giving you both time to catch your breath. It doesn’t matter, he’s still inside of you, and that’s all you care about. “This feels nice,” you whisper. He brings his face down to yours, you kiss each other very softly.

“You feel so good, baby,” he says. Then, he gradually moves faster and faster. For several minutes he pounds you hard and rhythmically.

“Don’t stop!” you shout. Your knees quake, and you both climax simultaneously. He pulls his dick out of you at the very last second. Shaking himself, he comes all over your stomach. You breathe a satisfied sigh as you scoot over closer to the edge of the woolen pool table cloth to make room for Charlie. He flops down beside you, and takes a deep breath.

He stares up at the ceiling, “Wow! You were incredible!” He turns his head to look at you. He checks you out from head to toe, and back up.

��So were you,” you say as you nervously toy with your necklace.

“Let me get you something for that,” he says gesturing towards his load on your skin. You help each other clean up the mess. You walk over to the pile of clothes and toss him his boxers. You pull on your own underwear, and find your pants. He picks up his shirt, and he throws your shirt over your head as you are trying to put your jeans on, cracking himself up. You laugh with him, but you throw his pants as hard as you can, he laughs harder. He’s dressed, you're almost done. He helps you put your sweater on. “You’re really hot, we should do that again sometime,” he says.

“Anytime. You have my number,” you remind him, bashfully, and he kisses you once more.

#iasip #iasip charlie #charlie kelly #fanfiction #charlie kelly x reader #spoilers

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