this is my Main now, as people may know me as @irltraviswilker :)
sum facts about me
my names krissi, iām 20 & i live in the very beautiful (ugly) germany. i live for jhutch, and spent way too much money on him (cardboard cutouts, merch, tattoos of himā¦)
my current kins are call me by your name, sally face, future man, thg, DETENTION OMG, coraline, anything jhutch related, nirvana, eminem omg?? , some other stuff & jlaw.
i currently work for a lawyer lmao. warning for my humor bc iām often very negative and say stuff like i wanna die just for fun. sorry, its not funny but its me.
plot: you and clapton had been best friends forever. and you like him. so you decide to go to the cinema togetherā¦
tags: hurt, soft, no smut, readerxclaptondavis, best friends, unrequited love, Part 2?
Clapton always chose the middle row, third seat from the left.
I always chose the fourth. It had been our unspoken tradition ever since high school. Sometimes we talked the whole ride to the cinema, other times we didnāt. I liked both equally ā because I was with him.
Clapton Davis.
He was the kind of guy people either admired or misunderstood. Smart, a little scattered, unreasonably charming in that boy-who-hates-homework kind of way. He had this laugh that cracked halfway through like heād surprise himself with how happy he could sound. I was addicted to that laugh.
We met in the ninth grade. He was the new kid who couldnāt figure out the lock on his locker. I helped him out, not because I cared, but because his frustration looked too funny to ignore. That was the start. A week later, we were skipping science class together. Three years after that, he was my best friend.
And I was hopelessly, stupidly in love with him.
That night was a cold one ā a Friday in late October. The air smelled like rain on pavement and cheap popcorn, and Clapton had just found a little cinema that was doing a special screening of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
He texted me at 4:12 PM:
"Found your dream movie. You, me, 7 PM, no takebacks."
I smiled like a damn idiot.
The cinema was nearly empty when we got there. Clapton grabbed a large popcorn and poured half a bag of M&Mās into it like a psychopath. I teased him about it. He offered me a handful anyway.
āI still donāt get why you like sad movies,ā he said as we sat down. āThey feel more real,ā I shrugged. āPeople donāt get happy endings all the time.ā He looked over at me then, a little longer than usual. āThatās depressing.ā I laughed under my breath. āGuess Iām a little depressing.ā He smiled. āNah. Youāre... honest.ā
I wanted to kiss him right then.
During the movie, I watched him more than the screen. The flickering light painted his face in shades of blue and white. He had a habit of whispering thoughts mid-scene ā stuff like āThis partās geniusā or āIād erase my memory of high school in a heartbeatā.
My hand was inches from his on the armrest. I could feel the heat. I could reach out, lace my fingers in his, tell him everything ā how I stayed up at night thinking about what itād be like if he ever looked at me the way Joel looked at Clementine. But I didnāt. The credits rolled, and the theater went quiet.
He stretched. āThat was heavier than I expected. āYeah,ā I murmured. āIt kinda guts you.ā
Clapton turned to me, smiled again ā softer this time. āYouāre so weird. I mean, in the best way.ā I swallowed hard. āThanks, I guess.ā
We walked out into the cool night, the kind where your breath fogs and your thoughts do too. The parking lot was empty except for his car. Neither of us talked for a minute. Then he broke the silence.
āIāve been talking to someone,ā he said casually. āLike, dating, I guess.ā I didnāt even flinch on the outside. I just smiled and nodded. āOh? Thatās cool.ā
āYeah. Her nameās June. Sheās in my psych class.ā
āNice. She soundsā¦ great.ā
He chuckled. āYouād like her. I told her about you ā my weirdo best friend who makes me watch melancholic films about memory and heartbreak.ā
I laughed too. Not because it was funny, but because thatās what you do when your heart caves in quietly.
He dropped me off outside my place. The porch light was off. I liked it that way.
āThanks for tonight,ā he said, half-leaning out the window. āLetās do it again next week. Maybe something lighter?ā
āYeah. Definitely.ā
He gave a mock salute and drove off into the darkness. I stood there for a while, hands shoved deep in my pockets, heart trying to unlearn the shape it had made for him.
He never found out.
And I never told him.
Some stories donāt end with confessions or kisses in the rain.
Some end quietly ā with unspoken truths, half-finished sentences, and a third seat from the left that never gets any closer.
Plot: youāre dereks girlfriend & youāve never seen his soft side. heās just the cold, calculating person you still need in your life. untilā¦
tags: no smut, fluff, angst, needy lover, no gender given, no use of y/n, gnr x derek danforth
Derek Danforth was invincible. Or at least, thatās what he wanted the world to believe.
CEO by day, perfectionist by night. The kind of man who never lost control, never let his guard down. He was my boyfriend, but even with me, he always kept a piece of himself locked away. Every moment was calculated, every touch measured, every kiss deliberate but restrained.
I used to wonder if he was even capable of needing someoneāreally needing them.
I came home late, the apartment dim except for the faint glow of the city lights spilling in through the windows. Normally, Derek would still be in his home office, working on some impossible deal, but the eerie silence sent a strange feeling through my chest.
Something was off.
I found him in the living room, still in his dress shirt and slacks, but that was where the usual Derek ended. His tie was nowhere to be seen, the first few buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows like he had started to unravel and couldnāt bring himself to fix it.
And then there was his posture.
Derek Danforth never slouched. Never rested his elbows on his knees, his head bowed like the weight of the world had finally become too much.
I hesitated. He hadnāt noticed me yet, and for a brief moment, I considered walking awayāgiving him the space he never asked for but always took.
But then he sighed, low and ragged, and my heart clenched.
āDerek?ā I finally spoke, my voice softer than I expected.
He stiffened at first, but when he lifted his head and looked at me, something in his expression cracked me open.
He looked exhausted. Not just physically, but down to his soul.
āI canāt do it anymore,ā he murmured.
The words barely reached me, but they hit like a landslide.
āCanāt do what?ā I stepped closer, but he didnāt move.
His fingers rubbed his temples, slow and deliberate, as if trying to ease a pain that had taken root deep inside him. āAny of it. The company. The meetings. The goddamn expectations. Iām supposed to have all the answers, supposed to beāā He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. āI donāt even know who I am without all of this.ā
I sat down beside him, cautious but close enough that he could feel me there. Derek didnāt talk like this. Ever.
"You donāt have to figure it all out right now," I said carefully. "You just have to breathe."
His jaw clenched, and for a second, I thought he would shut me out like he always did. But instead, his shoulders slumped, and his hands dropped limply into his lap.
Then, without warning, he leaned into me.
Derek never leaned. Never let himself be anything less than composed. But now his forehead pressed against my shoulder, his breath warm against my skin, and his entire body seemed to shudder.
I wrapped my arms around him instinctively, pulling him in. "I've got you," I murmured, running my fingers through his hair.
He let out a shaky breath. "I don't know how to stop, how toā" His voice cracked, and my chest tightened.
"Then let me help," I whispered. "Let me hold you for once."
His hands found my waist, gripping tighter than I expected, as if afraid I'd slip away. He buried his face against my neck, his breathing uneven.
For the first time, Derek Danforth let himself be vulnerable.
And I held him, knowing that no matter how strong he tried to be, even the strongest walls crumble when theyāve been standing alone for too long.
Minutes passed, maybe longer. He clung to me like he was afraid Iād disappear, like if he let go, the weight of the world would crush him all over again. His breathing evened out slightly, but every so often, I felt him take a deep, shaky inhale against my neck, as if trying to ground himself in my presence.
I held him tighter.
His hands roamedāhesitant at first, then firmer, more desperate. His fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt, then smoothed over my back, tracing slow, aimless patterns as if memorizing the feel of me.
Derek wasnāt usually touchy. He would hold my hand in public, place a guiding hand on my back, but this? This was different. He was clinging. Needy.
And it broke something in me to realize how long heād been holding it all in.
I shifted slightly, trying to look at him, but he only pressed closer, like he couldnāt bear to lose contact.
I ran my hand down his back in slow strokes. "You're allowed to rest, Derek."
Another shaky breath. Then, barely above a whisperāso soft I almost didnāt hear itāhe said, "I love you."
I froze.
Derek never said those words. He showed affection in subtle waysāmaking sure I ate when I was busy, placing a hand on my lower back when we walked together, remembering things I mentioned offhand. But this? This was something else.
I pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. His face was inches from mine, his eyes hesitant, like he was bracing for impact.
"You love me?" I echoed, searching his gaze.
His fingers flexed against my waist. "Yeah," he admitted. "I do."
A slow, warm smile spread across my face. "I love you too."
For the first time that night, his body fully relaxed against mine, like the words had given him permission to let go.
And I held him, knowing that thisāusāwas the one thing he didnāt have to control.
