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pandulce135 · 1 year ago

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Sick With Your Sibling (2012! Mikey & Sibling-Esque! Reader)

Note: Honestly, not my best work, however, I had the idea and put it in my docs. Maybe I'll rework it in the future, who knows. I really wanted to finish it sooner than later, but then a bunch of stuff hit so.. yippee. Mikey deserves so much more love from his brothers in the 2012 show i'm putting my foot down here. I think I kin mikey ;;;

Warnings: Not proofread in any capacity. Kind of ooc but, ehh

The seasons were changing and more and more work was piling up on your shoulders as the school year began to get into full gear. On top of the clubs you partook in, as well as all the work for your numerous classes, not to mention the looming threat of the Kraang and the Shredder, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting sick from exhaustion. With tired eyes, a runny nose and full body aches, you were in for a bumpy ride.

You sat in your bed, the covers up to your shoulders as you both shivered and sweated. To the side was a box of tissues and on the floor was a trash can already full of gross used tissues. The box was nearly empty but you felt too heavy and too tired to move out of bed to grab a second box.

There was a pain in your side as you tried to adjust to a more comfortable position and a sharp hiss was pushed out through gritted teeth. Your shoulders felt like it was carrying the weight of the Shell-Raiser, tense and knotted. Not even a massage could get these aches out of you. Your feet, which had been slathered in Vicks VapoRub and covered with fuzzy socks, ached like you have been standing for hours on end.

Your entire day has been spent on bed watching Leo’s favorite show Space Defenders. You didn’t see the appeal but had promised to watch it. It was easy to point out the flaws of the characters then guess the endings of each episode and it didn’t take long to get bored of it. But it remained playing on the computer screen while you scrolled through your phone to find a game to play. That’s when you got a notification from Mikey.

Mikes: hey my dude just checking in. you doin okay???

You: If ‘almost done with my tissues and feeling too heavy to replace the box’ is okay, then I’m just dandy :)

Mikes: you want me to come over? i can make you some soup! we can play games or relax or whatever!!!

You: Are you sure? You might get sick too…

Mikes: nah, i’ll be fine. i’ll be right over!!!

You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling, only to feel the familiar scratchy feeling in the back of your throat. The soft chuckle quickly turned into a hacking cough as you desperately sat up and reached for your water bottle that sat on the nightstand next to your bed.

“Hey, dudette, you should really consider locking your window. You never know what freaks could be climbing through at any given moment,” Mikey announced his arrival as he climbed through your window. He landed on his feet just in time to see you nearly inhaling the content of your water bottle. “Oh, jeez, you good?” He took a step forward just as you finished off the water.

With a gasp of air, you responded, “Just peachy.” You weren’t ‘peachy.’ Your voice was raspy, your hair was a rat’s nest and you probably look like you haven’t slept in a week… which isn’t far from the truth considering all the work place on your shoulders, but still!

Mikey winced at your tone. “You don’t sound peachy…” He made his way over to sit on the edge of your bed. You watched as the skin where his brows would be furrowed upward as he looked around at your bed, taking in the tissue box, your disheveled comforter and numerous stuffed animals thrown about haphazardly. His eyes wandered back to you. “You don’t even look peachy. More cantaloupe skin pale.” He watched as you frowned before letting out an amused sigh. His shoulders relaxed.

Sitting up, you leaned your back against the headrest of your bed. “What’s up, little man?” You felt a drop of something wet begin to drip out of your nose which you quickly wiped away with your sleeve. “Something on your mind?” The drip came back and you reached for a tissue to wipe your nose more effectively.

Mikey leaned his shell against the wall behind him. “Nah, nothing is really up here.” He lazily pointed a green finger to his head. You didn’t miss how he looked down at his lap as he let his hand fall. “That’s what Donnie and Raph say, anyway.” His voice came out quieter, almost sheepish.

Your eyebrows furrowed. How can they continue to get away with talking so poorly to Mikey? Sure, the young turtle before you was a bit rambunctious and reckless at times. Maybe he is a little loud and obnoxious. But he cares! He’s adventurous and curious. He’s just growing up. Maybe he’s not as mature as his brothers yet, but he’s Mikey. You wouldn’t want him any other way.

“Boo. They’re dumb.” You gave a thumbs down as your tongue poked out at the side of your mouth.

“Don't let Donnie hear you say that,” Mikey tried to joke, but you continued on.

“You’re you, Mikey. I wouldn’t want you to change for anyone.” You gave as wide of a smile as you could muster to the orange clad turtle sitting on your bed.

His eyes widened, still holding a hint of sadness that looked unbearably wrong on him. “You really think that?” He asked in a near silent voice. He was being so vulnerable right now, you couldn’t let him continue thinking negatively about himself.

You reached out for one of his three fingered hands and held it tight. “With all my heart.” Your eyes were stern but gentle as they stared into Mikey’s.

He couldn’t help himself when he began to sniffle. In a flash, his arms wrapped around your torso and held you close as his head leaned against yours. “You’re like the best big sister I don’t have!” Mikey cried out, holding you tight. You couldn’t stop yourself from hugging back just as tightly.

“Mikey, you’re gonna get sick,” you warned, your voice still raspy and your throat still scratchy.

He loosened his hold but still didn’t let go. “I doubt it. I’m a mutant, remember? Super cool and part turtle?” You let out another chuckle, which, again, turned into another coughing fit as you forced yourself away from Mikey to cough into your arm. “Woah, you’re gonna cough up a lung! Can I get you anything?”

Your voice was nearly gone as you finished your violent coughing that left you gasping for air. “Water…” You reached out dramatically as your head fell back against the pillow you had propped up against the headrest. “I need… water,” your voice tapered off as your hand fell off the side of the bed.

Mikey couldn’t help but laugh as he got up from your bed. “Water coming right up!” He announced as he left your room.

“Another box of tissues, too!” You called as loudly as your throat would allow… which was hardly audible. At least in your opinion. Eh, you still had a few more in this box. You laid back down in your bed as you waited, your phone above your head, lighting up your face as you continued to scroll through it.

It took all of two minutes for Mikey to return to your room with a few water bottles, an armful of snacks and, to your surprise, another box of tissues.

Your eyes nearly twinkled in the laptop light that still had Space Defenders playing on it. “Mikey, you’re a gem.”

He struck a pose with a wide smile. “I know.” With the movement, a water bottle and a bag of chips fell to the floor, earning a stifled laugh from you. You hid your smile behind your arm as you watched him retrieve his fallen items and climb back into the bed with you.

You sat back up and immediately grabbed a bottle of water to chug in hopes it would get rid of the tickling at the back of your throat. It didn’t. Instead, it felt as if the water went down in a big ball, making you pry the bottle away from your lips and place a hand on your chest as if that would help the water go down any nicer.

“Whoa, easy there-”

“Why must the entities that reign make me suffer in such a way?” You croaked out, staring up at the ceiling as the pain in your chest finally settled. You heard Mikey laugh over the rustling of a bag of chips.

“You ask great questions, sister,” he chuckled, shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you where only the rustling of the bag followed by crunching and Space Defenders was heard. Finally, you looked over at Mikey, who seemed to have all of his attention grabbed by the show and chips.

You couldn’t stop thinking of how his brothers view him. Of how he really made you feel like a big sister, even as an only child. You really did love Mikey, but in a more protective manner.

“You know how I’m an only child, right?” You asked out of seemingly nowhere. Mikey seemed to pop out of the control of the laptop to look over at you.

“Yeah?”

“When I was younger, I always wanted to have a younger sibling. Alas, that never happened. Then I got older and got to meet you and your brothers.” You smiled at the orange clad turtle. “You’re like the little brother I never had, Mikey.”

His eyes were wide as he sat silently, staring at you. In the corners you swore you could almost see tears forming. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. We’re like siblings from another…” you paused to think for a second, trying to find the best way to finish the phrase, “...organic… life form?”

There was a short pause before Mikey fell forward onto the bed in a fit of giggles. “That was awful.”

You rolled your eyes. “Forgive me for trying to be heartfelt!”

“More like cringey!”

“You’re so mean!”

“Nu-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!”

~~~~~

“Mind telling us how you got so sick, Mikey?” Donnie asked, standing over Mikey who was suffering in his bed. It felt ten degrees colder with Donnie in the room than without.

Mikey thought about what you would say at this moment. It was almost like a lightbulb went off in his mind when he finally thought of the phrase you would use. With narrowed eyes and a sly smile Mikey spoke, “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy?”

“Alright, I’ll text ‘em to let you know they got you sick.”

“What? No!” Mikey dragged out the no to be whinier. “They’ll say ‘I told you so!’”

#tmnt #2012 tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt fic #tmnt fanfic #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #mikey x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #sibling reader #mikey x y/n #mikey x you #give mikey some love #plz #i beg #sibling relationship

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

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His + Hers

Summary | You didn’t want a bodyguard and certainly didn’t need one. Bucky didn’t want the job. But as soon as the two of you meet, all bets are off.

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4.2k

Warnings | language (including light degradation, possessive!Bucky, smut (oral - f receiving, piv) - minors dni or you will be blocked

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” rolled eyes and loudly snapped gum. Crossed legs and an anxiously jiggling foot. The aging clock ticked loudly as your gaze burned into the giant dual monitors that shielded the man on the other side. He had just oh so casually dropped some horrible news to you.

What was his name? Jeff? Jeffrey? Jefferson? It didn’t matter. Funny. For a man that you’d seen more often than your father in recent years, you’d think you might have remembered his name. Despite all that you still hadn’t seen him more than four, save five, times.

“Those are your father’s wishes.”

“Then why isn’t he here telling me this?”

“He’s a very busy man.”

“A man too busy to see own daughter, his own child, always work, work, working,” you spat, “what he could be doing that’s so important that he couldn’t even spare me fifteen minutes of his time?”

“He’s-”

“It was a rhetorical question,” you stood up and grabbed your bag, “sometimes it still shocks me that a man that claims he loves me so much he barely speaks to me, sees me. I don’t want this bodyguard - if you send them to me I will simply send them away. Don’t waste my time or theirs.”

“Your father is going to send someone regardless of your wishes, you must know this by now.”

“Tell him if he’s so insistent upon me being chaperoned like a puppy that he can come and talk to me himself,” you threw your shoulders back as you tried to chase away emotions or feelings. This was not the time or place for them, “see you in another six months for so.”

“Miss -”

You slammed the door shut before he could say anything else.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bucky’s groan was heavy - irritated - as he trudged up the stairs to the ninth freaking floor. Of course you couldn’t live somewhere near the bottom. Of course the elevator was broken, “I’m gonna murder you, Wilson.”

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, he calmed himself with every single step. Left foot, right foot, and repeat. Before he knew it, he arrived on your floor, less angry but still annoyed.

Bucky looked around for your apartment number, finding it quickly but wishing he hadn't. It was supposed to be a simple job - hang around you for a little while until things calmed down around your father. There was never any huge threat to you, but you were to be kept safe anyway. Typical rich people, he practically rolled his eyes. Complete idiot, he sighed at himself. He could have walked away from the gig easily, but things had been quiet after everything in New York and he needed something fresh. Naturally he’d say yes to this when Sam mentioned the job to him.

Once he found your apartment he slowly trudged through the hall, his mind all but made up about you already. You were going to be nothing more than a spoiled little brat. He looked at the golden number above your door and sighed heavily before knocking loudly.

For a few moments, nothing but silence met his ears before he finally heard what he was sure was annoyed grumbling inside accompanied by soft footsteps. The door was whipped open and Bucky came face to face with you.

Your brows knitted together as you studied him before crossing your arms over your chest, “can I help you?”

“James Barnes,” his name practically came out as a sigh. You raised your eyebrows at him but remained silent.

“And?” you asked as you moved to close the door, “I’m in the middle of my fifth zoom meeting of the day and annoyed and hungry. Thanks for wasting my time. Have a fantastic day.”

Before you could slam the door in his face, Bucky stuck his foot in the doorway and prevented you from closing it. A huff escaped your lips as you glared at him through the crack, “your father sent me. I’m supposed to look after you.”

“Ahh yes,” you rolled your eyes and frowned, “the baby-sitter my father hired. I told him and his assistant that I don’t want - or need - anything to watch me. I’m fine. So if you don’t mind you can leave. I’m busy and don’t have time to deal with you.”

“You don’t pay me sweetheart,” he scoffed lightly as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. You wanted a challenge? He’d give you one, “and as long as that’s the case, I stay.”

“I’ll double whatever he paid you.”

“Oh honey, I doubt you could ever afford that.”

“What can I do to get you to leave?”

“Nothing.”

“It really doesn’t seem like you want to be here either so why don’t we both do ourselves a favor and cut the shit?”

“Not until your father tells me it’s okay to leave,” he smirked, “I don’t take orders from little girls, sweetheart. Nor do you pay my bills.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re a bitch,” your mouth opened into a little pout as you attempted to shut the door on his foot, “you can shut the door, it won’t hurt me. I’ll just tear it down if I have to.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Want to find out?” he asked as you threw your head back and sighed at the ceiling. Yes and no. You wanted to push his buttons and see how far you could press. But you also didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Instead you slowly, ever so reluctantly opened the door, refusing to move but motioning for him to come in. He practically sauntered in with a victorious little smirk on his lips, “good girl.”

You were to let him have it when he turned around to face you and finally got the chance to study him. And your jaw almost hit the floor. Fuck.

He was handsome - dark hair and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen with a five o’clock shadow. He was dressed in very well fitting jeans, along with a henley and leather jacket. So casual but he managed to make it look so good. For a moment you thought he looked familiar but you couldn’t quite place. Maybe you’d seen him around somewhere.

Well, this presented a whole new predicament. This would have been so much easier if he hadn’t been one of the most gorgeous men you’d laid eyes on.

“Like what you see?”

“I’m not into old men,” you cocked your head to the side and watched him with a smirk. Bucky almost tripped up and let an emotion slip but instead he remained pointedly neutral as he looked you up and down.

It would have been easier to dislike and hate you entirely if you weren’t so damn cute. You were dressed in a comfy, oversized sweater and joggers and big fuzzy socks - casual and cute but effortlessly so. It was a challenge not to stare.

“Whatever you say,” he held up his hands in mock defeat as you became momentarily placated, “what’s the plan for today?”

“I have a job and things to do,” you huffed as you pushed past him, “so just do something or whatever and stay out of my way. If you insist on being here.”

“I do.”

“This is going to be fucking hell, isn’t it?”

“It can be whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart!”

“Sure thing, doll.”

"I hate you already.”

“The feelings’ mutual, honey.”

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Hating Bucky was a full time job. Bucky having to chaperone you through all of your shenanigans was a full time job. Both of you were incredibly stubborn and damn near made the job impossible.

You'd be lying if it said he wasn't attractive and that you hadn't thought about him. Especially late at night. Alone in bed. But you'd rather die than admit that to him.

Bucky had a feeling he'd break you down eventually; not that he expected anything to come of it. He enjoyed flirting with you and watching you get frazzled and nervous. But you weren't his type. Nuh uh - Bucky Barnes wasn't into pretty little spoiled brats. Even if they weren't attractive and smart and genuinely kind underneath it all.

That wasn't part of the job. Which was why he never let it go past anything that could be deemed as flirtatious.

Just as he vowed to break you down and just admit you liked him, you might have had a little goal of your own…

"Come on," Bucky sighed as he paced around your living room, waiting for you to come out of the bedroom so you could pizza and watch movies. It had become somewhat of a Friday night tradition, reluctantly so. It was hard to get out and have a lot of fun when you had a silent, intimidating brooding man following you around, "how long does it take to change?"

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes as you opened your bedroom door and stepped out, slipping on your heels, "I'm ready."

Bucky's eyes widened as he looked you over. You were wearing a little black dress and fuck me heels along with ruby red lips and a full face of makeup. He fought back a little growl as you smirked at him, "what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Its called a dress, genius."

"To get pizza so we can come back and watch movies?"

"That's not the plan," you straightened up and walked past him, grabbing your purse and jacket.

"You said-"

"I lied," you stated the obvious, "I'm going out to finally have some fun. Without you."

"I'm coming with you," he crossed his arms over his broad chest as you tried not to stare, "that's the job, sweetheart."

"And I'd like to actually have fun and get laid," you threw your hands up, "its hard to do that with you breathing down my neck constantly! If you insist, can you at least like stay ten feet away. Give me a fucking break."

His breath had hitched in his throat as soon as he heard the words get laid and he worked to keep it together. He sighed as he forced himself not to imagine you underneath, naked and begging for more.

"Fine," he agreed reluctantly, "ten feet only."

"Thank fuck."

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One drink had turned into two which easily turned into three and after that you’d both lost count. Bucky had been sitting at the bar, a singular, but arbitrary drink in his hand as he watched you get progressively looser as the evening wore on. His steely gaze almost never left yours as he watched you chat up people around you. You were naturally extroverted, and definitely a flirt - but then again maybe that was the alcohol - and it wore Bucky out trying to keep an eye on you. He wasn’t terribly concerned about what was going on, but still, he was a man that took his job seriously.

It wasn’t until he decided that it was fine to let you out of his sight for a few moments only to turn back and found you missing. A growl bubbled up in his throat as he scanned the tightly packed pace and found you in the middle of the dance floor. You were pressed against a man that had been eyeing you up since you’d gotten there, mouths smashed together as you kissed him like your life depended on it. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and his hands were on your ass the entire time.

As soon as you ground up against him, something in Bucky snapped. He threw back the rest of his drink and quickly made his way over to you. The people in his path parted like the seas when they noticed the predatory expression in his eyes. Before you could even realize what had happened, you felt a hand tightly squeeze your shoulder. A gasp left your lips as Bucky pulled you away from your newfound friend.

“What the fuck!” you glared at him as the man that just had his hands all over you grew visibly nervous. Bucky grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close, “Bucky!”

“Keep your filthy fuckin’ hands off of her, you understand?” he growled at the man as he just nodded, “I ever see you near her again and you’re dead. You leave my girl alone.”

Bucky shoved him away and the man practically skittered across the bar and out the door without so much as a single glance back. Breathing angrily, he turned around to find you staring at him in awe, arms over your chest. You were suddenly incredibly sober, “what the hell was that? I’m not your fucking girl, Bucky.”

“We’re going home. Now,” he reached for your hand and held your wrist in a tight grip as he dragged you without another word. You wanted to argue with him and fight back, but there was something about his possessive nature that had sent a shiver down your spine and a rush of warmth to your core as you let him pull you along like a ragdoll.

Maybe your dangerous little plan was finally going to turn into reality.

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“Are you going to finally tell me what’s going on?” you asked as you walked back into your apartment, trailing after Bucky and slamming the door shut, “you chased off my only chance of-”

Before you could say anything else, Bucky’s hands found your waist and he crashed his lips onto yours in a bruising tangle of tongue and teeth. You responded with a surprised moan as he backed you up against the wall, making sure you didn’t hit your head.

“He’s a fuckin’ boy,” he insisted as he lightly gripped your throat, causing you to part your lips as you fought back a moan, “he wouldn’t have made you cum. Probably doesn’t even know where your pretty little clit is.”

“And you would?” you challenged, already knowing exactly where this was leading. Something in your mind told you that this was wrong and you should have stopped it, but the larger part of you really just wanted him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it for weeks and weeks now, touching yourself late at night to the thought of him. Bucky smiled at you - a dangerous, toothy, wicked thing causing you to swallow thickly, “I don’t think you could. You’re all talk, Bucky. Probably haven’t even been laid since the 40s.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want this too, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear before trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin, making it a point to mark you up. That way everyone would know you were his. He rutted his lips lightly against yours, and you could already feel how hard he was, “I see the way you look at me - I know you’ve thought about me. Probably touched that pretty pussy of yours and wished it was my cock, huh little girl?”

“Bucky,” his name was nothing more than a whimper of your lips as you tried to reach down and touch yourself. He was quick to grab your hand and pull it away. You whimpered as he just chuckled darkly. Oh, how easily he could break you down with just a few words, “please. Need you.”

“I’ll give you what you need,” he swore as he watched you with hungry eyes. He shimmied up your dress and moved to touch you. His smirk only grew when he noticed you’d forgone panties, “look at you, such a little slut. You didn’t even put on panties? You really wanted this, didn’t you? Were you just hoping I’d touch you? I bet you had this whole thing planned out - just wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you?”

You looked at him with wide doe eyes but remained silent as you tried to play coy. But he was having none of it, and grabbing your jaw, “answer me.”

“Mhmm..,just want you,” you admitted as he slowly let go before grabbing both of your wrists in his vibranium hand and pinning them above your head, “just touch me.”

And he did - slowly, he dragged his fingers through your folds, smirking at how wet you already were, “oh honey, you’re practically dripping. So wet already, and I’ve barely even touched you. Such a good little slut.”

Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him circling your clit slowly before feeling your soaked folds and sliding a thick finger inside. A small sound of surprise reached his ears as you almost rutted into his hand and he easily slid another finger in. The stretch from his fingers was enough to spark the warmth in your belly as you bit your lip to keep from whining.

“Look at you, such a needy little thing,” you could hear the smirk in his voice as he fucked with his fingers, “but you’re not going to cum on my fingers. I’m going to see if you taste as sweet as you look. Gonna make ruin that pussy for anyone else. You’re mine - you understand?”

“‘m yours,” you whimpered as he let go of your hands and slowly sank to his knees in front of you. His large hands, a contrast of warm and cool, splayed on your thighs before slowly traveling up to your hips and grabbing them in a bruising grasp. This man was really working to make sure he would remain all over you. He pressed a few kisses to your thighs before stopping at your mound, and you could feel his warm breath fanning across on your pussy, “please.”

“That’s right, you can be a good girl,” he didn’t even hesitate for a moment before diving in and licking a stripe up your folds, causing sparks to shoot throughout your spine. You could feel him smirking against you at the immediate effect he had as he ate you out like a man starving.

Bucky Barnes was not a shy man when it came to eating pussy. He licked and suckled on your clit as he let two of his cool vibranium fingers slide into your pussy. He crooked them just right, effortlessly finding your g-spot as your knees threatened to buckle. No one man had ever made you feel this good before, nor so easily.

“F-fuck,” you hissed as he pulled back and look at the blissed out expression on your face, “more please.”

“Look at you pretty little thing,” he grinned as he pressed a few wet, sloppy kisses to your mound. He pulled his fingers from you before reaching up and practically ripping your dress off. If you’d hadn’t been so close to cumming, you would have yelled at him, but in the moment you didn’t care. Especially not as his hands found your breasts and massaged them before he played with your pert nipples, causing you to arch into his touch, “not wearing a bra either. You are bad.”

“‘m so close,” you whined as he just smirked at you. Before you could say anything else he slapped your pussy, causing you to jump slightly before you keened into his touch, silently asking for more.

“You like that, honey?” he teased as you nodded with closed eyes, your mouth forming a small o. He repeated the motion before he grabbed your ass and buried his face back into your pussy. You moaned into his touch, bucking your hips against his mouth as he made all the most sinful noises as he ate you out like his life depended it on. He worked pure magic with only his tongue and he soon had you seeing stars as your legs started to shake around him. He anchored you to him and kept you from falling down as he brought on your orgasm, “that’s it honey. You’re going to cum all over my face, going to taste all that pretty pussy has to offer.”

“F-f-fuck,” you reached down and carded a hand through his dark hair as you held him against you, “jesus.”

“Cum for me,” he commanded and you did just as you were told, crying out his name like a prayer as you felt your release wash over you. Bucky stayed between your legs as you came all over him, cleaning up every little bit you had, not stopping until you were begging him to stop from the over stimulation, “tastes like fuckin’ candy. Best pussy I ever tasted.”

“Jesus,” your chest was heaving as he kissed his way up your body. He stopped at your lips and offered you a victorious little smirk, “you’re an asshole but at least you know how to eat pussy.”

He grabbed your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him, “you’re mine - this pussy is mine and no one else’s, you understand, little brat?”

“Ruin me then,” you raised your eyebrows before you kissed him again, trying to beat him at his own little game. But it was no use - he was easily more dominant and held control over you, “make me yours.”

“Turn around,” he growled as he flipped you in his arms and pressed you against the wall. You moaned as his hands mapped out every curve of your body before you felt the sharp sting of his hand on your ass. Just to spur him on a little more, you bounced your ass and he slapped you a few more times before massaging your skin to soothe the pain, “you like it when it hurts. God, you’re perfect. My little slut.”

“Please fuck me. Need you so bad,” you practically whined but quickly grinned when you heard him undo his belt and pants before he pulled his cock out. He groaned in your ear as you heard him stroke himself a few times.

“‘m so fucking hard, baby,” he ran the tip of his cock through your folds and you could already feel how big he was, “got me leakin’ already. Thought about you and that smart little mouth so many times. Always cum so hard when I think about you. Can’t wait to see how good this pussy feels squeezing my cock. You’re going to take all of me, little thing.”

He coated his length with your arousal - you were already so wet again - before slapping his cock against your ass. You tried to reach around so you could touch him but he slapped your hand out of the way.

“Put your cock in me,” you practically begged and before you could say anything else, he plunged into you, causing you to practically scream in surprise. He didn’t stop until he was fully sheathed inside of you, feeling like he was practically splitting you apart. The burn quickly faded away as you moaned and clenched your walls around him, “fuck, you’re so big.”

“Did you expect anything else, pretty baby?” he whispered in your ear before grabbing your hips again. He slowly pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back into you with no warning. You clawed at the wall as he set a brutal pace, slamming his hips into yours over and over again, letting you have almost no room to breath. The only sounds that left your lips were small whimpers and mewls he fucked you to an inch of your life.

You felt the coolness of the vibranium snake around your body before he found your clit. You let him press you against the wall as he pounded into you, and you quickly left your second orgasm start to bubble up in your tummy.

“Taking my cock so well,” he praised as he slowly played with your clit. He was not shy about being loud and moaning, all while murmuring filthy praise into your ear, “so tight - so perfect. This pussy was made for me.”

“More,” you begged in between breaths, “harder, please.”

“You want it harder, pretty baby? You’re not gonna be walkin’ after this,” he smirked before he picked the pace and fucked you even harder than before, which you hadn’t even thought possible, “good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Mhmm,” you agreed with a wistful smile, a fucked out expression on your face as you felt his cock twitch inside of you as your walls started to clench around him, “please, please, please.”

“Gonna fill you up,” he said through gritted teeth as he slowed his thrusts, making them slower and deeper than before, “gonna make sure you know who you belong to.”

It was a few more thrusts before you came again, crying out as the pleasure rippled through your body. Bucky came quickly after, grunting as he came inside of you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum. He fucked you through it all, not stopping until you were feeling boneless and he had filled you with every last drop.

He easily caught you just as you were about to collapse in his arms and pulled you against his chest as he pressed a few kisses to your shoulder. You reached behind you and carded a hand through his arm, scratched at his scalp as he continued to kiss your neck and shoulder.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you said as you tried to catch your breath, “that was incredible.”

“I told you I’d ruin every other man for you,” he slowly pulled out and turned you around so you were facing him. You put a hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “you’re mine.”

“I’m your girl,” it was like music to his ears as you reached between your thighs and swiped his cum mixed with your arousal up and sucked it clean off your finger, “my pussy is yours and your cock is mine.”

“Good girl, “ he praised with a wicked smile, “now get on your knees and put that pretty mouth to use.”

“Yes sir.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Marvel Taglist (add yourself to a taglist here!)(strike-through means I couldn’t tag you - please check your settings)

@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @hrtsgetbrkn @ironicfoxes @iilwjbb @cc13723things @thenormreedus @gooddaykate @natthebattygeologist @sociallyantisocialbutterfly @n3ssm0nique @daughterofthenight117 @riddikulus-obsessions @imaginelover88 @saint-bvcky @banana-cheese-cake @sleep-tight1 @missstef23 @moonlacebeam @asylummara @wakandabiitch2 @hoodedbirdie @mysweetlittledesire

@lunaserenade @reallyloudstarlight @jettia

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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babblydrabbly · 3 years ago

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water wings || harley quinn x f!reader

Pairing: Harley Quinn x Argus Agent f!reader (Semi-established relationship)

Warnings: Language. Lemon. Kissing. Oral (f receiving). Masturbation. Mild drowning? Mentions of power imbalance. Men being gross.

Wordcount: 2.5k

[ A/N: A little Harley love tonight! Fluff. Takes place Between SS 2016 and TSS 2021, idk when you figure it out. ]

Permalist: @reysorigins

Harley mentions she doesn't know how to swim. You take it upon yourself to fix that.

“No, you– no, no. Stop kicking, Quinn.”

You watch from the edge of the pool as a frustrated instructor struggles to guide Harley Quinn across the shallow end. You knew she was never going to make it easy. But today it seems like Harley has decided to be extraordinarily difficult. He’s hesitant to touch her as she tries to keep her head up- she’s already bitten him. Twice.

“Head up.” The instructor repeats, and you know when he wraps his hand around her bicep to assist her, he’s made a mistake.

Harley’s elbow makes swift contact with his face, the wet smack ringing out around the natatorium walls. The instructor swears, falling backwards into the water, and you sigh when the guards surrounding the pool lift their rifles.

You raise your hand and call them off. “Alright, enough. You can stop now, Captain.”

The man in the pool surfaces with one hand clutching his face and a deep scowl. He grumbles as he leaves Harley in the water, along with a small, pink trace of blood on the pool’s surface.

The decorated Argus agent and long time SEAL instructor shoves you as he passes. ”Last time I help any of these freaks.” He spits.

You sigh, your eyes falling on Harley. She pouts in response.

“He was gettin’ handsy!” She shouts in her own defense. And there’s a murmur of chatter exchanged between all the guards. Your gaze flits over all of them. Mostly men. Most you know for a fact have leered over Harley Quinn in your presence around the Argus compound. If you were to ask them, they’d love to get their hands on Harley Quinn.

The thought makes your skin crawl, but more so it makes something protective and fiery burn in your chest. Harley sinks into the water with her arms crossed, blowing bubbles as you say nothing.

“Out.” You finally speak. When you turn your head to the guard in charge. He balks.

“All due respect, Lieutenant–”

“Out.” You snap again. “All of you.”

“What about Quinn?”

“I’m finishing her lesson personally.”

“You’re crazy if you’re thinking about getting in the water with her.”

“That bitch’ll drown you.” Another pipes up.

“I’m more aware of how Quinn operates than you’ll ever be.” You drawl. “Now go guard the only exit to this entire room. I’m assuming the twelve of you can do that without any trouble at least.”

The head guard glares, but motions for the rest to follow. You shut the double doors behind them and turn back to the pool, folding your arms over your chest.

“You’re extra bratty today.” You note. You yank the velcro of your kevlar vest off, tossing it onto the bench beside you. Harley thrashes over to you with a grin.

“You gonna teach me to swim, huh, [L/n]? What’re we gonna work on? Butterfly? Breaststroke?” She waggles her eyebrows at you from the edge of the water.

You roll your own eyes as you pull your shirt over your head, revealing a black bra underneath. You weren’t planning on getting in the water at all, but your matching undergarments would have to do. Harley claps as you make your way over to the edge, plopping your boots and socks by the water. She makes no attempts to hide the way she's ogling you.

“I think we’re just going to have to focus on– Harley!” You yelp. You suck in a breath when she grabs you by the wrist and yanks you into the frigid water.

She’s cackling when you breach the surface. You shake the hair from your face, the chlorine stinging your eyes as you wipe the water out.

“Now we’re having fun.” She says.

Before you can catch your breath, the woman’s lips are on yours, muffling your surprised gasp.

Harley is a few inches taller than you, and with the weightlessness of the water up to your chest, she dips you back easily until your feet no longer tip toe along the bottom of the pool. She silences another mumble of protest with her own little playful moan against your lips.

Your mouth parts on instinct. The warm, eager lap of Harley’s tongue across yours is a sharp contrast to the cold water around you. Harley keeps her arms firmly wrapped around your waist as you grip her shoulders, your eyes slipping shut as you give in. Just for a moment.

You feel a sharp nip tug your lower lip into Harley’s mouth, sending goosebumps down your arms. You clench your bare thighs together and pull away swiftly.

“Nuh uh. I mean it, Harley.” You warn, your cheeks now flushed. “I want you swimming well enough to survive an airdrop over a tsunami if you have to.”

You pinch the bright yellow water wings around her arms- stretch the plastic until they snap back against her pale skin. Harley yelps.

You chuckle at how ridiculous she looks, in a rash guard and puffy life preserver on top of the yellow wings. She’d even found a snorkel somewhere earlier, but the SEAL captain had made her take them off before their failed lesson.

You spend the next twenty minutes or so guiding her under the belly as she begins with a weak doggie paddle. She’s got the floating down now, after all morning in the pool. Harley Quinn is a quick learner- you know that even when she was giving the instructor shit, she was still storing anything she actually found useful in that chaotic brain of hers.

You make her slip off the wings after a while so that she can try cutting through the water faster.

“Your biggest problem is gonna be carrying extra weight on a drop- your munitions bag is always gonna try to weigh you down.” You lecture her as you wade through the water, watching her give freestyle a try. “Then there’s any team members that might need help. I can’t speak for everyone on the squad, but most people tend to panic when they get caught off guard.”

You blanch when you receive a splash of water in the face. Harley spits a mouthful at you again with a mischievous grin.

You shoot her an unimpressed look.

“Aw, come on, Sweetums. I’m a raisin over here! I’ve been paddlin’ around for hours!” She exaggerates. To demonstrate, she kicks around, splashing you again. You cough out some water and splash her in return.

“Hey! Look, I’m doing this for you, Harley! When I told Waller you couldn’t swim she almost didn’t let me arrange this lesson in the first–”

“You told her?” Harley interrupts. She stands up in the shallow water, her smile evaporating. You know immediately that the pout that sets into her features is one of real irritation.

“Of course I told her. What if they assign you to a mission with a drop over water soon? Or you end up somewhere flooded- or-”

“What else have you been tellin’ her, huh?” Harley puts her hands on her hips with a scowl.

“Harley…”

It was a delicate situation. You were always a lieutenant first and her friend second up until your first kiss. It had shocked you, the way Harley had pushed her face to yours one night on a mission just a few months ago.

You had taken a knife wound for the criminal without thinking, and when she pressed you for the reason why, you couldn’t find the words. It was simple. Harley Quinn was insane, and beautiful, and full of life- and you had fallen for her in your own quiet way.

There was very little you could do for her while she was under Amanda Waller’s thumb. You didn’t want to end up like your best friend Flag- not with the way the Argus director had manipulated he and June Moone for her own benefit.

Harley was strong, of course. Could more than handle herself. And you were realistic.

You stole moments like these, away from the guards’ prying eyes. But it could only give you so much time. You’d almost wished Harley would spring herself free, or find some kind of way out of Belle Reve. Maybe then this thing the two of you had could be given more room to grow. Instead of stonewalling you with the same old mistrust neither of you could shake.

Hell, maybe Harley was waiting for the right moment to use you. Maybe you would be the way she’d get herself away from this place.

You knew you had it bad when you realized you didn’t care if that’s the way it goes one day.

You make your way over to her with a steady tread. “I only brought up the swimming, okay?” You insist carefully.

“Yeah? How do I know you’re not just feedin’ her everything I tell ya, huh? Maybe I’ve been blabbin’ to you too much.” She snaps, turning away from you. Still, Harley lets you take her in your arms. Let’s you plant yourself squarely in front of her.

“You do blab. A lot.” You say sadly. You snort when you recieve a light punch in the arm. “But I mean it. You not being able to swim worried me. I just wanted to make sure you were taken care of as soon as possible.”

It seems to be the right thing to say. You tried to take care of her. And even though there was only so much you could do for her, it was more care than Harley received from anyone else in this hellhole. Shit, even outside of it, as sad as it is to admit.

“‘M sorry I snitched, Quinn. But… we kind of got a free date out of it, don’t you think?” Smiling, you gesture around the empty aquatics center.

Your smile falters when that smirk returns to Harley’s face, and before you can back away, she grabs you, thrusting you under the water. You suck in a deep breath before you’re plunged under, your cry cut off with a garble.

Harley locks her grip around your wrists and kicks your feet out from under you as you struggle under the surface. For a moment, your gut tells you to wrench yourself away and get yourself out of the water, that sliver of mistrust blooming in your chest. But through the frantic bubbles, you suddenly see the devilish grin on the blonde’s face.

You stop struggling and instead focus on holding your breath. You go limp under Harley’s weight and stare at her. When you still, Harley blinks through the water at you expectantly.

Finally, the two of you surface and both gasp for breath.

“You’re no fun!” Harley complains, splashing you.” You said people panic and get all wriggly when they’re caught off guard.”

You wipe away the snot that’s gathering in your nose unceremoniously. “Yeah, most people.”

“How am I supposed to practice being a lifeguard for my teammates if I can’t even drown ya!”

You huff. “Why don’t we just focus on making sure you don’t drown yourself, alright?”

Harley shakes her pale blonde hair out. “Nope. I’m done! No more swimmin’ lessons!”

“I’m not wasting these thirty minutes left of your free time, Harley Quinn.” You start to warn her, but she’s cutting you off for the millionth time today.

Capturing your lips again, Harley backs you into the side of the pool until your shoulders hit the tile wall. She grabs you by the back of the thighs, hiking you up until your legs wrap around her waist tightly.

“Oh, I see.” You murmur against her lips.

“Mhm.” She giggles, nipping you until you let go of a moan. Harley peppers your jaw with kisses, then your neck, her hands wandering over your body beneath the surface of the water. You brush her tangled, chlorine drenched hair from her face tenderly, arranging it until it flows more neatly behind her ears.

Your eyes fly open when you feel her shoving you upward out of the pool, “What are you-?” You fall back onto the cement with a grunt. Before you can protest, Harley’s got your black underwear slipping down your thighs and around your ankle. “Harley.”

The criminal pays you no mind as she pushes her face back between your legs, silencing you with the first swipe of her tongue up your folds. You gasp, your thighs instantly wrapping around her head so your lower half doesn’t fall back down into the pool.

You lie back and lay down on the floor, your eyes fluttering. Harley dips her tongue between your lips again, the contrast of her hot mouth on you after an hour in the cold pool burning you with its heat. You press your palms over your eyes, your face flushing.

“O-Oh-” Your cold skin trembles with goosebumps. Harley circles around your clit a few times, coaxing your back to bow. You hear a muffled giggle as your hips press your center into her face involuntarily.

“H-Harley-” You stutter. She grips your thighs, her blunt, black-laquered nails digging into the flesh greedily.

“Relax, Sweetums.” She coos. “Wanna taste ya.”

Her mouth finds you again, tongue dipping in deeper to slide into your cunt slowly. She stretches your tight entrance with deep licks, fucking into you with delight. Your body responds quickly, slickness blooming to meet Harley’s ministrations, and the criminal moans when she finally tastes you on her tongue.

Harley’s a quick learner, and sometimes you wonder if you were her easiest target yet. Because it doesn’t take long before you’re wrapping your ankles around the back of her head, your fingers slipping into her waterlogged hair as your breath quickens. Harley can take you apart in a matter of minutes- on the field, in the briefing room when no one’s around.

And she loves to play with you like this. Play with herself while she unravels your quiet, bitten back mewls. Her little kitten.

“I… I’m gonna come,” you whine, rolling your hips against her. Under the water, you know she’s dexterously pressing her free hand between her thighs, pumping her fingers into herself or circling her own clit frantically as she gets you off.

Harley responds by drawing her tongue out deep from within you, placing her mouth over the apex of your sex. She sucks the swollen bud between her lips, the lewd sounds sending a shiver up your spine.

You bite your bottom lip to keep from crying out too loudly- you think you might draw blood. Harley’s relentless, her cheeks hollowing as she laves over your clit. “Oh, oh, oh….”

Your back bows even tauter, your shoulders lifting off the damp concrete as your orgasm hits you, quick and hard. You curl around her, her name leaving you with a high wail. Her tongue continues as you feel each wave of pleasure, until you’re shuddering and tugging her gently away.

Harley laves wet kisses along your inner thigh. She gives you one final bite where your thigh meets your sex before grinning up at you.

“Your cute little sounds butter me up, kitty!” She teases you.

Before you can reply, you hear the stomps of someone drawing near to the pool room doors. You splash back into the pool before anyone sees.

“Time’s up!” the Belle Reve guard barks. When he notices your head under the water, he raises his gun. “Hey, what the hell are you doing, Quinn?”

You slip your underwear back on as fast as you can below the surface, and when you breach again, the guard is shouting for Harley to put her hands on the edge of the pool.

“What a moron.” Harley mutters. And it’s true. He seems utterly oblivious to how not violent Harley was being with you just a moment ago. She grins up at you as you lift yourself out of the water sheepishly, your face twisted with subtle embarrassment. She gives you a wink before the other men near and instruct her to walk over to the ladder with her hands up.

They keep their focus on her as you dress quickly, a shiver setting in now that you are out of the water and cooling off. The head guard scoffs at you, “Told you she’d try to drown you.” He boasts.

Harley looks unperturbed as they roughly maneuver her into her straight jacket, even as she’s still dripping wet. She throws you another grin as they escort her out of the room.

You roll your eyes, still blushing. “Pretty sure I almost drowned her.” You mutter almost inaudibly.

“What, Lieutenant?”

“—Nothing. Nothing.”

#harley quinn x reader #harley quinn x you #harley quinn x female reader #harley quinn fanfiction #harley quin imagine #harley quinn #dceu fanfiction #mywords*

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1kook · 4 years ago

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commercial break ; TEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series takes place directly after vickey & hickeys !

SUMMARY See, there’s no one in this world who ignores his house rules more than you. Even worse, there’s no one on this planet who can make Jungkook ignore his own rules like you do. WARNING smut, kissing, unprotected sex, missionary, a love for cum/precum, mentions of hickeys, uhhh idk what else lol MISC valentines day, jk cute housewife tbh, jk being in love again u know the usual, jk clean freak RATING m (18+) WC 1.4k

NOTES its not proofread bc im lazy but i love them... doesn't that amount to something.... YES! we move lads

Jungkook has been living by himself for about four years now, give or take, and in that time he has come to understand the dire need for order when maintaining a home. He never understood why his mom was such a stickler for rules until he began living on his own. Those first few months had been awful, just the mere memory makes him shiver. His kitchen counters had been littered with an array of stains. His laundry basket seemed to fill up faster than usual. He never envisioned his adult life would start off with him polishing each and every inch of his hardwood floors. But because of that experience, Jungkook has finally followed in his mother’s footsteps and composed his own list of rules, eponymously titled Jeon Jungkook’s 5 Rules for a Happy Home.

He liked order and peace, liked when his coats were lined up from lightest to heaviest, when his glass plates were all stacked according to size and collection. He’s generally a neat person, prides himself in maintaining a clean personal environment. But of course, because the universe just loves him so, they repay him for all his efforts by giving him an absolute wildcard of a girlfriend.

See, there’s no one in this world who ignores his house rules more than you. Even worse, there’s no one on this planet who can make Jungkook ignore his own rules like you do.

The list goes like this:

1. Shoes must always come off at the door; this keeps them clean and allows the hardwood floors to retain their glossy sheen for as long as possible.

The plan is to spend Valentine’s Day at his house, watch some Netflix, maybe chill. You had been giggly the whole drive back from the store, brandishing your repaired phone screen like it was something incredible. And because Jungkook had so graciously paid for it, he is reimbursed with a flurry of kisses that have the two of you stumbling into his house. “Baby,” he pants, hand at your waist. He hears rather than sees the loud thump of your sneakers against his hardwood floor. But Jungkook has long since mastered the careful art of distracting you, and it only takes one twirl and careful push until you’re pressed against the door, his hardwood flooring saved from your outside shoes.

Of course, you misread the action. “Are you gonna be mean to me again?” you purr, throwing your hands over his shoulders. Your breathing is a little shallow now, lips kissing against his jawline as he helps you out of your shoes. You surge forward once more, press those satin lips against his. But this time, it’s your sock-clad feet that step onto his flooring, a soft whimper falling through your lips.

2. Return everything to where it belongs; coats should go in the closet, keys on the key rack, etc, etc.

“Take it off,” you husk out, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, and then rather mindlessly tossing it against the base of the stairs, where it was certain to be a safety hazard. Jungkook doesn’t even have time to protest, because then your coat follows. And then your top. And then your bra.

He’s a weak man.

He kisses down your throat, makes sure to glide his tongue over the bruises from last night. Not because he wants to see them heal, but because they ignite this sort of possessiveness in him that has him pushing you against the wall once more, guiding your leg over his hip. “So pretty for me,” he mumbles, letting you manhandle him out of his own shirt. And when your pebbled nipples press against his chest, the blood rushes down to his nether regions. You whimper, an airy little sound that sends him to the brink of insanity.

3. Always hold the stair railing; the steps can be slippery sometimes, so it is best to be safe.

Just as predicted, his discarded coat ends up being the safety hazard it was destined to be. One blind step backwards sends him tumbling onto his behind, the edge of another step digging painfully into his back. “Fuck,” he groans, but not at his blossoming bruise. You shimmy out of your bottoms, present him with this stringy little thong he doesn’t think he’s seen before. “C’mere, baby.”

You’re his good girl, always, so you climb onto his lap with ease, slot yourself over him where you belong. “Right here?” you ask in the soft voice, look at him with this sinful gaze that sends shivers over every inch of his body.

“Right there,” he confirms, wrapping an arm around you, uses it to pull you flush to his chest. The other slides over the curve of your ass, along the length of your thigh. His gentle touch makes you arch against him, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. “Gonna be good for me?” Jungkook murmurs, pressing a kiss to the tops of your breasts. You nod, and he slips his hand just behind your knee, uses it as he hauls you into his arms. He can’t even see his own two feet as he stumbles up the stairs with you in his arms.

4. Don’t slam doors or unnecessarily swing them open; you can damage the walls or the door itself.

It’s a joint effort; you twist the doorknob and Jungkook kicks it open. It slams against the wall, but Jungkook doesn’t really care, not when you look like that sprawled over his sheets. He can’t get his pants off fast enough, eyes trained on you as you slip out of your thong. You’re already so wet, gliding your fingers through your arousal as he stumbles out of his jeans and boxers. Always a tease.

“Open,” you murmur. It’s what he should be saying to you, hand lingering on your knee, but he does it anyway. Jungkook parts his lips and savors the sweet taste of your arousal on your fingers, sucks and licks until you’re pulling away with a whine, spreading your legs for him to slot himself in between. He has half the thought to reach for the lube in his nightstand, the warming one that you love so much. But Jungkook is desperate and impatient: he spits in his hand and calls it a day, grips his cock in one hand and gives it a harsh tug. Unexpectedly, it’s an action that impresses his audience. “Me too,” you beg, tugging at his forearm.

And Jungkook complies. He revs up his throat and leans over you, spits in your mouth like you wanted him to. But he’s off today, not completely sane, and half of it splatters against the corner of your mouth, over your cheek. You flinch, eyes squeezing shut. A moan slips past your lips. And then Jungkook watches in awe as your tongue peeks out, licks at the corner of your lips like you’re trying to save it from going to waste. “Oh, baby,” he groans, and it’s with that final thought that he guides himself in.

You’re so warm, tighter than usual. He hopes it doesn’t hurt. By the sound of your cries, it doesn’t seem to. Still, despite his concern, Jungkook can’t bring himself to hold back and begins thrusting after only a couple seconds. You claw at his shoulders, probably leave bright red marks all over him. You’re exceptionally needy today, cross your ankles at the base of his neck and make it impossible for him to get too far.

Jungkook isn’t any better. He can’t let go of you even if he tried. If he’s not holding your waist, then it’s your breasts. If not there, then it’s your throat. There’s something so sexy about you today, so needy for him. He just fucked you last night, made you cum until you cried, and yet you always want more. More and more, just like him.

Neither of you last that long. Normally, he’d be embarrassed about that. But today, one press of his thumb against your clit has you spasming around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your cum coats his cock. So he’s not embarrassed, mostly proud. It’s a new record.

5. Always say I love you.

“I love you,” he gasps, holding your leg against his chest as he follows in your stead, vision fuzzy as his orgasm overcomes him. A hand touches his abdomen, gentle and encouraging. “I love you, I love you— I wanna marry you,” he shudders, before the pleasure eventually subsides and he’s slumping over your equally tired, equally sweaty form.

That he’s embarrassed about, hiding his face in your neck as you card your fingers through his hair. “Me too, sweet boy,” you hum, pressing your lips against his forehead.

Jungkook isn’t sure which of those two confessions you’re addressing.

(He hopes it’s both.)

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jjk fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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morelikedoccock · 3 years ago

Text

If You Play With Fire (or Electricity) pt. 14 (Final chapter)

Summary: You've been badly burned before, so when you encounter a man who has clearly had some sort of freak accident that left him with burns even worse than yours had been, you feel compelled to offer him help, even at the cost of your safety (and maybe also your heart).

Doc Ock x gender neutral reader

Rating: M

Tags: reader with past, gender neutral reader, Canon-Typical Violence, Burns, Scars, Choking, but not sexually, caring for burns, someone's gotta notice those, First Aid, Medical Procedures, Injury, Blood, Blood and Injury, Caring for cuts, Unconsciousness, Dreams, Feelings, oooh someone’s catching feelings, reader gets injured, Nudity, Angst, Definitely more feelings, Fluff, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Near Death Experiences, Crying, Prophetic Dreams

Inspired by this post

Link to Ao3

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 pt. 9 pt. 10 pt. 11 pt. 12 pt. 13

~~~

Note: This final chapter is my love letter to Otto, and it's also a love letter to all y'all who adore him too. Thank you for reading my story, and I hope you enjoyed!❤️

playlist for this chapter (and the previous chapter too): here

Chapter 14.

You’re not entirely sure how you managed to get Otto back to your apartment unseen, but here you are, standing in your kitchen beside a sopping wet super criminal, who happens to also be the man you’re in love with. Otto is soaked, frozen, exhausted, hungry, and injured. Well, at least you have a clear set of issues to work with.

“You have to get out of those wet clothes,” you tell him. When he raises his eyebrows, a faint pink rising in his cheeks, you blush.

“Not like that! It’s first aid protocol, and also common sense.”

“Very well,” he says. His mouth quirks slightly as he begins to pull off his coat, then he winces.

“Let me,” you tell him, and you move forward to help. You tell yourself that there’s no ulterior motive in your touch as you gently guide his arms and actuators out of the coat, then drape it haphazardly over one of your chairs.

“Shoes,” you say. He obediently takes them off.

“You’re not wearing socks?” you ask, appalled. “I’m surprised you don’t have blisters!”

“We were preoccupied,” Otto replies, his cheeks turning pink once more. “It’s hard to explain the need for socks to them.”

The only remaining garment is— Oh lord. His pants.

“You should, um, you should shower off the river gunk,” you mumble. “As long as you can stand a little more water, it would be best for you to get clean.”

Rubbing the scars between your fingers, you work up the nerve to offer him an extra set of hands.

“I, uh, don’t want this to come across as weird, but I would be happy to help— I’ve got a detachable shower head— you’re tired and hurt—”

His eyebrows inch higher with each word, and finally, you can’t take the embarrassment and you bury your face in your palms.

After a moment, a pair of hands gently pull your own away from your eyes, and Otto presses his lips to the backs of your fingers.

“That’s very sweet of you. I accept.”

Your cheeks feel like they might spontaneously combust as you lead him to the bathroom. Thoughts flit in and out of your mind, memories of the other time you had him in this tiny room, when he was bloody and unconscious. Of the things you had thought that night, kneeling between his thighs so you could stitch up his wound.

It feels like steam might shoot out of your ears at any second.

“You should— should probably take off your pants,” you say. The pink in Otto’s cheeks is a bright red now, but he hesitates for only a moment before undoing his fly and letting his soaked pants drop to the floor.

“Do you want me out of my underwear too?” he asks, sounding both amused and embarrassed. You open your mouth to reply, but only a squeak emerges. This makes him chuckle, and the sound unlocks your throat.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you tell him hastily. “You can leave them on.”

He smiles at you, still blushing, then he climbs into the tub and slowly lowers himself until he’s sitting comfortably. The actuators sway sluggishly around him, their white lights all focused on you.

“Are you sure more water won’t hurt you?”

The actuators nod. You bite your lip, then pull the shower head down and turn the water on. It takes a minute to adjust the temperature and pressure until you’re confident that it won’t aggravate his burns, then you direct the stream over his back, paying careful attention to the angry skin around the metal fused to his spine.

“I’m gonna rinse your hair,” you warn him, then you do just that, enjoying the way his hair curls and moves under the stream. Shampoo next. You grab a bottle from beside you and squeeze a generous dollop onto your palm, then you pause. What would be the best way to do this?

“Can you tilt your head back as far as it’ll go?” you ask tentatively. Otto glances at you, then he obeys without complaint.

“Close your eyes.”

His hair is soft under your touch as you smooth the shampoo through it, moving your fingers in careful, gentle circles over his scalp. It’s silent but for the quiet sounds of your movements, and your mind starts to wander. Trying not to think too hard, you bite your lip and continue to massage the suds through his curls, doing your best to keep it out of his eyes.

Otto moans softly. You flinch and pause, worried that you have accidentally hurt him somehow.

“Don’t stop, please,” he whispers. Unable to help yourself, you bend and press your lips to his for a moment before beginning to lather the shampoo into his hair once more. When you can’t justify touching him for any longer, you grab the shower head and begin to rinse. Soap cascades down his body in foamy rivulets, white against the red of his burns. You can tell that it has to sting in some places, but he doesn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “I promise it’ll be better once you’re not covered in river filth.”

He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to. You reach for the soap, lather your hands, then offer the bar to him.

“I’ll get your back if you get your front.”

It’s such a simple thing, to wash someone like this, but somehow it feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever done before. His shoulders are so broad under your fingers, his skin soft as silk. You swirl your hands over the expanse of his back, mindlessly lost in the feeling of his skin against your palms. When you reach the burns, you just barely ghost your fingertips over the livid skin, unwilling to cause him more pain than absolutely necessary.

When you’re finished, you rinse his back, then rinse his front, trying not to stare at his amazingly broad chest in the process. You can feel him watching you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you hiss. “I’m trying to be respectful.”

“I appreciate it, but don’t hurt yourself,” Otto replies with a grin.

You snort.

“I should be okay.”

To escape this potentially embarrassing moment, you beckon to your favorite actuator.

“Can I rinse you off?” you ask. It slides forward without hesitation, bucking up against your palm for a moment before allowing you to cautiously begin to rinse it. You make your way along its length, and by the time you reach the place where it connects to Otto’s back, the others have slid forward, ready to be next in line.

You giggle at their reaction. They’re being even more friendly than usual, and you wonder vaguely whether or not it has something to do with the sudden change in the color of their lights.

When all of the actuators are clean, you hand the shower head to Otto, who has been surveying the goings on with amusement, and gesture to his soaked boxer shorts.

“I’ll go get you a towel while you get out of those and finish washing,” you say, nearly stumbling over your words in your haste, then you snatch his pants off the floor and practically run out of the bathroom. The pants go on top of his coat, which is now dripping steadily onto your kitchen floor.

Towel in hand, you approach the bathroom door with the air of someone approaching a possibly active landmine, and knock. The door opens a crack, and one of the actuators pokes through.

“Here,” you say, offering it the towel. “If you could get me his, uh, his boxers, I’ll put them in the wash.”

The actuator disappears, and returns with the soaking wet boxer shorts. Only now do you realize that they’re white with red hearts printed on them. So cute.

“Thanks, and take your time. I’ll go start the laundry.”

His coat isn’t the kind that you can just toss into a washing machine, so you hang it up in the kitchen with a towel beneath it. It might get dry… some day.

In the meantime, you figure that you might as well wash your sheets while you’re at it, so you pile his pants and boxers into a washing machine with the bedclothes, add detergent, and start the cycle. Then you stare at your reflection in the circular window.

Your hair is tousled, your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are wide in your face. You look more than a little hectic. Grinning, you return to your apartment.

Otto is sitting at your kitchen table, your towel wrapped loosely around his thick waist, just below the burns around the bottom of his metal waistband. His eyes follow you as you walk inside and shut the door.

“Feel good to be clean?” you ask with a smile. He chuckles, running a hand through his damp curls.

“Very,” he replies. “It’s been a while since I had a real shower.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve gotten the chance to take one now, at least.”

You jog to your bedroom, grab your kit, and jog back out into the kitchen again.

“I know you said you won’t go to the hospital for these, so I’m gonna disinfect them,” you tell him. “It might hurt a bit, so please don’t kill me.”

You pull the bottle of disinfectant and several gauze pads out of your kit, then kneel down between his outstretched legs so you can properly see the burns on the underside of the metal band. It only belatedly occurs to you where you’re suddenly situated. And fucking hell, this time he’s awake.

You would like to think that you know how to learn from your mistakes, but you’re kneeling between his thighs again, and you look up at him anyway. He meets your gaze for one heart-stopping moment, then he averts his eyes, a brilliant red rising in his cheeks. You look down.

“Sorry,” you manage, “I can’t really see the burns any other way.”

“It’s alright,” he replies, but you can tell by the way his voice is muffled that he’s covering his mouth with one hand. The other is by his side, and it’s clenched into a fist.

Oh lord.

You will the heat away from your cheeks and work quickly around the front of his waist, covering the top and bottom sets of burns with disinfectant, then you stand and move around behind him with a silent sigh of relief. He leans forward so you can reach his spine a little more comfortably, and you continue to clean the open parts of the burns.

When they’re disinfected, you cover the worst spots with gauze pads and tape, then you move in front of him again to admire your handiwork.

“If you get blood poisoning, I’m hauling your ass to the hospital whether you like it or not,” you tell Otto. He doesn’t appear to be listening, instead his eyes are hazy, his lips parted, his gaze focused on your mouth.

“Come here,” he murmurs. You swallow hard, then step forward. He reaches for you, dragging you gently down until he can part your lips with his, slipping his tongue through. You sigh, practically melting into his touch, reveling in the taste of him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tilting his head up so you can deepen the kiss. He breathes your breath, gasps your gasps, and devours your quiet moans.

“Food and sleep,” you rasp, pulling away with great effort. “We both need food and sleep.”

Otto looks into your eyes, then nods, looking sheepish. You relent and kiss him briefly once more before heading for the laundry room to switch over the wash.

Something touches your leg while you’re eating some time later, and you nearly choke.

“W-what?” you manage, looking under the table. The something is one of the actuators. It clicks up at you.

“You’re injured too,” Otto remarks. “There’s blood on the knees of your jeans.”

You scoot your chair back and stick out your leg, and just as he had said, there’s a red stain on your knee. A similar stain is visible on your other knee as well. You swear, suddenly remembering the shock of pain you’d only distantly felt when your legs had given way on the dock.

“Fuck,” you mumble. “Now I gotta deal with this too.”

Forgetting your food, you jump up and start toward the bathroom, only to be stopped by a metal tentacle wrapping around your waist.

“You’re not going anywhere until you finish eating,” Otto says mildly. “After that, we can see to your knees.”

You begin to protest, but you stop almost immediately. He’s right.

“I can’t go anywhere until you let me,” you reply, patting the actuator that is still holding you. It shifts, clicks, then slowly unwinds, allowing you to sit back down at the table.

You finish your food, then you push yourself to your feet.

“You’re not gonna try and stop me again, are you?”

Otto smiles. He looks exhausted, but there’s a lively sparkle in his eyes that warms your whole body.

“Not stop you,” he says. “They want to assist you.”

An actuator coils around your waist as he speaks, while another curls into a sort of disk and slides under you, so it’s like you’re sitting in a sort of knobbly metal chair suspended above the ground. You giggle at the sudden attention, still warmed from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“I can walk, you know,” you tell them. One of the claws clicks in reply, but the coils don’t loosen. Instead, Otto gets to his feet and he and the actuators carry you to the bathroom.

“Am I gonna be allowed to take off my own pants?”

The question makes Otto blush. He turns around and faces the door, but the actuators don’t seem to want to let you do anything by yourself now. You begin to laugh helplessly as one of them unbuttons your pants and tugs them off. Yet another, having apparently been paying close attention to what you’d done before, turns on the shower head to the right temperature and pressure. Suspended over the tub, you watch in vague disbelief as the actuators carefully rinse the blood away from your scraped knees, then even more carefully rub the bar of soap over the cuts. You were right before, it stings quite a lot. Gritting your teeth, you deal with the discomfort as best you can. It begins to fade when the soap is rinsed away.

“Now what?” you ask, leaning your elbows on the metal around your waist. “Are you gonna carry me to my bed like some sort of pampered— ouch!”

The claw that had been rubbing your knees with a clean towel pauses, chitters what must be an apology, and changes its tactic, patting the cuts dry instead.

“I need to get the laundry and make the bed before anything else,” you say with a stifled laugh. It’s nice to be cared for like this, if a little strange.

“Show me where the sheets are, and I’ll make the bed for you,” Otto offers, still facing the door.

“Put me down, please?”

The actuators do as requested, setting you gently on your feet. You walk over to where Otto is determinedly staring at the painted wood and reach up to pat his cheek.

“I really don’t mind if you look,” you tell him. He turns and looks down at you, then blushes again.

“I have a confession to make,” he says suddenly. You stare at him. He gulps, then looks up at his actuators.

“I can see anything they see,” he admits. “And they store memory, so I can remember what they remember too.”

All the times you’d spoken to the actuators rattle through your mind. The time you'd stitched up his thigh returns to you, and you have to resist the urge to smack yourself in the forehead.

“Let’s— let’s unpack that another day,” you finally say. “I’m too tired to think.”

He nods, then follows you to your linen closet.

“The printed set, if you don’t mind,” you tell him, then you pull on a pair of very loose pants and run to retrieve the laundry.

When you get back to your bedroom, Otto is waiting for you, your kit on the floor beside him.

“Come sit,” he says with a soft smile. You drop the laundry onto a nearby chair and sit on the edge of the bed, then look up into his eyes. His gaze is warm as he bends to you, kissing you softly while his fingers slip beneath your waistband. You help him slide your pants down, then off. He draws back, then leans down and tenderly presses his lips to your bare thigh in a slow, lingering kiss. You swear you can feel your heart hammering against your ribs.

“Otto,” you whisper. He straightens and cups your face in his palms.

“You saved my life by finding me tonight,” he rasps, “the least I can do is care for you in return.”

The actuators hand him the disinfectant and a gauze pad. His touch is exceedingly gentle as he swabs disinfectant on the scrapes, making sure to cover all the open wounds thoroughly. When he’s satisfied, the actuators take the bottle and offer him gauze pads and tape. He’s just as careful and thorough as he applies the gauze to each knee and tapes it securely down.

Finished, he straightens and the actuators return the supplies neatly back to their proper places in your kit. He smiles down at you, and there’s a softness there, a kindness that you don’t quite recognize. It’s as if some weight has lifted from him, some darkness having dissipated.

“Thank you,” you whisper, suddenly feeling unsure. This is a new Otto, or more likely this is the old Otto, finally in control of himself again. Is he still the same on the inside? Does he still…

You hesitate, then reach shyly for him, not entirely sure how to approach him now, but you needn’t have worried. He leans down and gathers you in his arms, hugging you close, his breath hot against the side of your neck.

“Will you stay?” you ask timidly. “I— I want you to stay.”

Otto pulls away just enough to gently capture your lips with his, to kiss you as if he’s never tasted anything so sweet.

“I’ll stay.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pour yourself into the kiss, pour everything you have to give into the fervent crush of your mouth against his. He responds, matching your passion with his own. You teeter, then fall backward onto the bed, pulling him down with you. He doesn’t quite squish you, but it’s a close call, and mirth begins to bubble up in your chest. You laugh, and Otto chuckles along with you.

“Oh, your laundry is on the chair,” you say, reminded of this by the way that the towel around his waist is beginning to slip down. He looks around, spots the clothes, and pushes himself to his feet.

“Is this your way of telling me I need to get dressed and go sleep on the couch?” he asks, beginning to unwrap his towel.

“What— no!” you reply indignantly. “I didn’t mean—”

But Otto is grinning. He winks at you, then turns and drops his towel, and you’re treated to a brief yet lovely view of his bare ass before he pulls up his boxers. When he turns back to you, he suddenly looks almost shy himself.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer that I…”

“Absolutely not,” you say. “Come over here before I get up and haul you over myself.”

“Alright, alright,” he says with a laugh. It takes him only a second to stride across the room and climb into the bed with you, and then he’s pulling you into his arms and kissing you with an easy, languid laziness that melts you from the inside out.

An actuator stretches out and flips off the lights.

Long minutes pass. You break away only long enough to press your lips to his collarbones, and then to the side of his neck, then you return to the soft warmth of his mouth.

Eventually you subside into just the occasional brush of lips against lips. In the semi-darkness, you can see that he’s watching you, his eyes half-lidded with drowsiness.

“How did you find me tonight?” he murmurs, breaking the silence. You take a moment to think, your fingers running absently through his curls.

“I really don’t know,” you finally confess. “I had— well, I had a sort of nightmare. There was lots of fire, and then I was underwater. It felt so… real. I guess I woke up in a sort of panic, and by the time I realized what had happened I was already at the river.”

“‘Already at the river’?” he repeats, sounding startled. “How?”

“I don’t know.”

There’s a long moment of silence, then Otto smiles.

“I’m just a simple physicist. Who am I to question the miracle that is the human mind?” he says. “I suppose I will just have to accept the mystery.”

“I guess so,” you mumble. “Sorry.”

Otto leans down and plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

“No need to apologize, my dear. You’ve given me a second chance, and I intend to treasure it.”

And oh, the words are right there, right on the tip of your tongue… but you bite them back. Not yet. Instead you tilt your head up to meet his lips with yours.

“Thanks for staying,” you whisper. His arms tighten slightly, pulling you close. You snuggle up to him, your face resting in the crook of his neck, and you let out a deep sigh. Weights settle over and around you as the actuators find comfortable spots for the night. One, you suspect you know which one, cuddles against your back, making you smile. Otto sighs, and kisses the top of your head.

This? This is pure comfort, safety, and happiness. It’s everything you’ve been wanting for so long. As you drift off, you know that with Otto’s arms around you, you can sleep soundly. You’re safe.

You wake that afternoon to the sight of Otto’s spectacular bed head. The same sight greets you the next morning. And the next. And the next. Time seems to fly by, but every moment is special now. Otto manages to rent out the apartment beside yours, but he spends nearly all of his time with you. You’re not even sure what he uses the extra apartment for. For work maybe, or for tinkering with his actuators.

You finish reading his research together. When he reads, his voice is just the way you had imagined it, deep and lilting and beautiful. Sometimes you get lost just listening to him, and then you have to ask him to repeat a paragraph or two. He doesn’t mind.

At night, you sleep together in your bed, sometimes staying awake for hours just talking about this or that. You talk about your pasts, your passions, your hopes and fears for the future. Some nights you twine together, your lips and sometimes bodies joined in a blissful, playful dance. Other times, you simply lie together, content to just exist together in silence, fingertips drawing languid circles on each other’s skin.

The words sit on your tongue, just waiting. They long to escape, wanting to fly free and true and impart their meaning to the one they are for, but you hold them still. For days, weeks, you hold them in, until you finally can’t take it anymore—

And when those three words finally spill from your lips, blessedly free and joyous, the man you love doesn’t hesitate to say them back.

#doc ock #x reader #doc ock x reader #my fic #cerbin writes #if you play with fire (or electricity)#yeah this is the last chapter and im sad about it ending #😭😭😭

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animationnut · 4 years ago

Text

Of Broken Spirits and Renewed Hope

Spoilers for True Colors.

Rating: K+ Summary: Three human girls arrived in Amphibia. Only one made it back home. Note: If Google has any degree of accuracy, นางฟ้า is Thai for angel.

“Home.”

Anne felt her vocal cords vibrate in her throat, felt her tongue curve around the syllable of the word, felt her lips as they moved to accommodate her vocal cords and her tongue. But she was speaking from instinct, not intent, as her brain swam in a haze of mixed colours—green, pink and blue, and the orange glow of a blazing sword—

Anne could feel herself wavering on the edge, practically see the black abyss threatening to swallow her whole, but three harsh coughs interrupted her dark spiral.

“What’s that smell?” rasped Polly, covering her nose as she wheezed. Her gags racked her small form and Hop Pop quickly whipped a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to cover Polly’s face.

The buzzing in Anne’s ears stopped and the world exploded with sound and sensation.

Dozens of horns blared from commuters who were impatient and annoyed with traffic that should have been as familiar to them as the back of their hands. Heat seared Anne’s exposed skin as the metal of the vehicle they were lying on burned from the exposure to the Californian sun. Exhaust rose in black clouds, sour and noxious, burning Anne’s nose and making her eyes water.

There was the click of the car door opening and Anne snapped her head around. The portly man gazed blankly at her as his mind struggled to comprehend what he was witnessing. With a boggled expression, he looked between the girl wearing an armoured chest plate and the three large, anthropomorphic frogs sitting next to her.

“Hi,” chirped Anne, managing to sound upbeat and cheerful. “Sorry, dude. We’ll just be on our way.”

“Where did you come from?” he asked. Anne couldn’t identify his dialect, but his accent coupled with the maple leaf-shaped air freshener and his outfit screamed ‘tourist’. “And what the heck are those?”

Sprig opened his mouth, no doubt to introduce himself, but Anne seized the Plantars in a one-arm hold, squeezing just tightly enough for speech to be difficult. “Sorry,” she repeated, using her free hand to snag the strap of her backpack.

She slid down the hood and if it weren’t for months of walking over sticks, stones and hard, uneven ground, the hot asphalt seeping through her worn-out sock might have crumpled her. But she ignored the pain as she swung her bag over her shoulder. The weight of Frobo’s deactivated head nearly sent her sprawling, but she regained her balance and took off running.

She weaved her way through the bumper-to-bumper traffic, climbing over vans and sports cars and SUVs, ignoring the shouts and curses aimed her way by the disgruntled owners. She reached the metal barrier that separated the embankment from the freeway and she hoisted herself over it.

They tumbled down the grassy slope and Anne sprinted through the trees. The sounds of human civilization eventually quieted and Anne halted her sprint when she registered Sprig smacking at her arm.

She quickly let them go and they dropped to the ground. Anne’s knees buckled as the adrenaline drained right out of her. Her mind was a mess of thoughts and her lungs felt like they were going to collapse.

The flaming blade piercing through Marcy’s chest. The stunned expression in Marcy’s eyes, the way all colour faded from her face. The tears that spilled down her cheeks, and the final words that tumbled from her mouth as her eyes rolled back into her head.

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

Anne’s agonized scream was promptly choked by the vomit that filled her mouth.

Hop Pop was by her side in an instant, hands gripping her shoulders as she hunched over and hacked into the grass. Her throat burned and her limbs trembled, the sight of Marcy falling lifeless and the sound of Sasha’s horrified howl haunting her.

The sobs that pealed out of her came from somewhere deep inside the girl. They were filled with pure loss and devastation and it echoed amongst the towering trees. Tears poured down Anne’s face, snot leaked from her nose as she cried and her fists pounded into the grass as emotion overcame her.

“Marcy!” she wailed. “Marcy, nooooo! Maaaaarcyyyy!”

Hop Pop wound his arms securely around her neck and pulled her close. Sprig and Polly clung to her, and all of his grandchildren were in a state of grief, tears glimmering on their skin and their small bodies shaking.

Hop Pop swallowed back his own sadness. As traumatizing as it had been to see a child slain in front of his eyes, he had to be strong for his family. He stroked Anne’s hair, patted Sprig and Polly’s heads, and gave comfort not with words but his presence.

Anne cried herself hoarse. When she found she had run out of tears to shed, she weakly sat up and wiped at her face. “It’s not fair,” she said croakily. “Hop Pop, it’s not fair.”

“I know, kiddo. I’m so sorry.” Hop Pop rubbed his thumb gently over Anne’s knuckles.

“She sacrificed herself to save us,” said Sprig, squeezing his eyes shut against the swell of despair. “Her and Sasha.”

Anne gave a distraught moan, her head bowing slightly as the weight of two worlds crushed against her shoulders.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” ordered Hop Pop, and Anne reluctantly lifted her chin. “We don’t know what happened to Sasha. She’s a tough one. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“We don’t know that!” shouted Anne, her voice cracking. “Marcy should have been fine, but she isn’t! She’s dead, and Sasha might be too! This isn’t how it was supposed to go! We were supposed to come home together!”

She began to dry heave, stress and panic and grief clenching tight around her heart and making her feel sick. Hop Pop grabbed her face with both hands and stared steadily into her wet eyes. “Breathe with me. In and out.”

Anne’s first attempts resulted in strangled gasps, but eventually she gained control of her breathing. “I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered.

“We worry about that later,” said Hop Pop firmly.

“But what about Andrias? And if Sasha is still alive—”

“Anne, right now, none of us are in a state to do much of anything,” said Hop Pop calmly. “To be honest, I don’t know if we can do anything.”

Anne blinked at him before realization hit. “The music box is still in Amphibia.”

Polly was crestfallen. “Does that mean we’ll never be able to go home?”

“What about Bessie and MicroAngelo?” asked Sprig desperately. “And Ivy! I didn’t get to say goodbye to Ivy!”

“Hush,” said Hop Pop soothingly, pulling Sprig and Polly into his arms. “The townspeople will take care of our snails, and I’m sure Ivy will understand, Sprig. As for going back home, I don’t know.” He let out a heavy sigh, feeling every year of his existence weigh down his bones. “Maybe we can figure something out. But if we can’t, we have each other. Home is where we are, even if we aren’t in Wartwood.”

He swept his eyes over his grandchildren, biological and adopted, and saw the words provided little peace in the moment of intense sorrow. But he knew they would come to appreciate how fortuitous it was that they returned to Anne’s world as a family, even when the losses they suffered hung darkly over their thoughts.

Anne was staring numbly at the ground and Hop Pop tugged lightly at her elbow. She fell easily into his embrace, as if she were made of nothing but feathers, and her forehead rested against the top of his head. For a moment they just stayed there, Anne’s body radiating warmth and causing Polly and Sprig to nestle closer to her, seeking her familiar heat.

Polly was the first one to hear the musical twinkling. She blinked over at Anne’s backpack. “Anne, your bag is singing.”

Anne slowly turned to follow Polly’s gaze, and it took her several seconds to register the noise. Suddenly it was as if a live wire had touched her and jolted to action, shrieking, “My phone!”

The Plantars were jostled as she dove for her bag. She ripped Frobo’s head out and Polly said furiously, “Hey! Don’t treat him like he’s junk!”

But Anne barely heard her. She plunged her hand into her bag, the bristles of her brush and points of her bobby pins sticking her flesh. Her fingers wrapped around her phone and she yanked it out.

Her text alert, which she hadn’t heard in months, was jarring to her ears. The notification center on her phone was being flooded by dozens and dozens of texts, missed calls and voicemail alerts. They poured in so fast Anne was only able to glimpse the names attached before they were replaced by another batch of notifications.

The majority of the texts were from Sasha, Marcy and Anne’s parents. There were a couple from the local police station, which caused Anne’s stomach to grow cold with fear. She hadn’t even considered the consequences of literally disappearing off the face of the Earth.

And then her phone froze, unable to keep up with the backlog of messages coming in all at once. Frustrated, Anne stabbed at her screen with her finger, but it was no use.

Her eyes fell upon the last text to make it to her notification center. It was from her mother.

Oh, นางฟ้า, your father and I miss you so much. We pray for a sign that you and the girls are alive, and that you will return home soon.

“Oh, Mommy,” whispered Anne, her fingers digging into the rubber material of her phone case.

Hop Pop approached and set a hand against her back. “Let’s go see your parents,” he said softly.

“But I don’t even know what to say to them,” she said helplessly. “I don’t know if they’ll understand. It’s…the things I’ve been through, the things we’ve been through, they don’t happen here. Not ever.”

“Well, we’re here to help you explain things,” said Sprig earnestly.

“Yeah, I’m…I think I might need some time to prepare them for you three,” muttered Anne. “They are so gonna freak out.” She glanced back at her frozen screen, and her heart plummeted as she read the most recent message from Marcy’s father. “Oh, how do I tell them?” she said in despair. “How do I tell Sasha’s parents that I had to leave her behind? How do I tell Marcy’s parents that their daughter is…is…”

Her voice wobbled and her eyes started to sting once more. Anne wanted to cry, but she didn’t have the energy nor the water for proper tears. Hop Pop gently set her phone back in her bag, which Anne allowed without protest. He laced his fingers with hers and said, “We’ll tell them the truth, Anne. That’s all we can do. We’ll tell ‘em how brave their daughters are.”

Anne gave a sniff. She tugged her hand free from Hop Pop’s grasp so she could rub at her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, for sure.”

She took a few minutes to gather herself, to try and clumsily sort through the heavy emotions swirling in her chest. She wanted to mourn, but there wasn’t time. She had to see her parents, had to tell them what happened.

“So, how long have you been gone?” asked Polly in a small voice, embarrassed by her earlier outburst. “Does time work the same way here?”

“Um…I don’t know.” Anne gestured to her pink backpack, where her phone was once again nestled safely inside. “It froze on me, so I can’t check the calendar or anything. And I didn’t get to see the dates on the first few rounds of texts.” She looked over to see the pollywog nuzzling Frobo’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Polly. I shouldn’t have thrown him around like that.”

“S’okay,” mumbled Polly. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m just really sad and upset right now.”

“Me too.” Anne leaned over and brought Polly into her arms, pressing a gentle kiss against her head. “I’m sorry, Polly. Maybe we can fix him.”

“Yeah,” piped up Sprig. “He just needs a new body, right? When we get home, we can go back to that weird machine place and get him a fresh one.”

Polly perked up at that. “Yeah…yeah!” she said. “If we keep his head safe, we can rebuild him!”

There was hope in her eyes. It glimmered and shone and Anne found herself hypnotized by it.

Something flickered in her heart.

“Until then, we’ll do what we can here.”

Hop Pop, Polly and Sprig looked at her in surprise. The teen’s chin was set, her mouth settled in a determined line. “Anne?” ventured her best friend. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not just going to sit here and wait,” said Anne. Her own hope ignited, and the spark soon blazed throughout her whole being. “I’m not gonna just do nothing.” She set Polly down and stood, her fists clenched by her sides. “You’re right, Hop Pop. Sasha’s fine. Marcy…Marcy made the mistake of turning her back to Andrias, but that wasn’t her fault. Sasha won’t do that. She’ll find a way to take the box from that monster and open the portal again.

“But until she figures that out, I gotta do my part. That music box came to Earth somehow. The thrift store where Marcy found it, they had a wardrobe with the Amphibia symbol engraved into the wood. And Marcy knew what the box could do, which meant she found some information about it somewhere.”

She thought about Wartwood, her home away from home. She thought about Wally, Mrs. Croaker, Archie, Bessie, MicroAngelo, Toadstool, Toadie, Loggle, Ivy, Sylvia, Felicia, Stumpy, Maddie and the rest of her friends from the humble country town. She thought about Sasha, who despite her need for control and her habit of lying to get what she wanted, came through for her friends in the end.

She thought about Marcy.

She had tricked them into leaving their parents, their lives, and trapping them in a world so beyond imagination that Anne never in a million years would have dreamed it up. She had done it because she was so scared to lose the friends she loved most, so desperate to stay with Sasha and Anne forever.

She had been inconsiderate. She had been selfish.

So had Anne. So had Sasha. Marcy didn’t deserve to die for her mistakes—none of them did. They were just three teen girls who sometimes did stupid, stupid things.

But they cared about each other—Anne believed that. Even if it was misguided, even if it was manipulative, she knew Sasha and Marcy cared about her—they sometimes just went about it in all the wrong ways.

And even though Marcy was the reason they were in this mess in the first place, and even though Sasha’s trickery was the reason Anne didn’t initially believe her about Andrias, she cared about them, too.

Right now, it didn’t matter if she wasn’t sure if she still wanted to be friends with Sasha after all she had done. It didn’t matter that she still stung over Marcy’s own manipulative scheme to take her friends away from everything they ever knew.

However complicated her emotions currently were, it didn’t mean she couldn’t still care about the two girls she’d shared her most precious memories with.

She was going to find a way to get back to Amphibia. She was going to save her friends. She was going to bring her frog family back home. She was going to save Amphibia and countless other worlds from Andrias’ tyranny.

She wouldn’t let anyone else she loved die by his hands.

“We’re not helpless!” she said fiercely. “We won’t let him make us helpless! We’re gonna stop him!”

Her pupils and irises illuminated a bright blue.

“They did it again!” exclaimed Polly.

Anne blinked and the colour of her eyes returned to normal. “What?”

“Your eyes! They did the funny light-up thing! Are you gonna turn blue again?”

Anne flexed her fingers, but she didn’t feel numb or tingly, like she had when Andrias had thrown Sprig out the window. “No, I don’t think so.” She glanced down at her hands, brow furrowed. “To be honest, I have no idea how that happened. I don’t even really remember it? I mean, I know what I did, but it felt like I wasn’t in my body while I was doing it.”

Sprig looked between Polly and Anne in confusion. “I clearly missed something when I was falling to my death.”

“Oh, it was so cool, Sprig! Anne went all glowy, and she was using blue magic, and she was flying! She nearly beat the snot out of Andrias!” said Polly excitedly.

The words reverberated through Anne’s mind; She nearly beat the snot out of Andrias.

She could beat him. She was still connected to her stone, and that fact seemed to cause Andrias great unease.

“Do you think you’d be able to use those powers again, Anne?” asked Hop Pop, following her same train of thought.

“I’ll learn,” said Anne firmly. “I’ll figure it out. Once I get control of my powers, Andrias won’t stand a chance.”

There was no question of whether or not she’d be able to gain control of her newfound abilities—she had to. It was her best bet to defeat Amphibia’s king.

Sprig tilted his head to the side. “Do you know what activated them in the first place?”

Anne regarded him, intense warmth and adoration bubbling in her stomach, and she gave a soft smile. “You. When he threw you out the window, I thought you were dead, and I was so angry.”

At a momentary loss for words, Sprig’s eyes filled with touched tears and he jumped into her arms. “Oh, Anne.”

“I love you,” said Anne passionately. She lowered to her knees and brought Hop Pop and Polly into her steel embrace. “I love all of you. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

“We love you too,” said Hop Pop tenderly, lightly running his fingers through her curly hair. “That’s what we’ve got over Andrias—love for one another. Pardon the sappiness of it, but that’s what we’ll use to beat him.”

“It’s not sappy at all,” said Anne. “It’s the truth.” She gave them one more tight squeeze before setting them back down. She grabbed her backpack, swinging it over her shoulders, and she picked up Frobo’s head. “Come on. I’ve kept Mom and Dad waiting long enough. I can’t wait for you guys to meet each other.”

They headed back to the freeway, where Anne hoped one of the stuck commuters would be willing to lend her their cell phone so she could call her parents to pick them up. As they made their way up the littered slope, Anne closed her eyes briefly.

Hang on, Wartwood. I’m coming back for you. Do what you can until I get there, Sasha. I know you can do it—you never give up.

A lump swelled in her throat, and she swallowed back a sob.

We won’t let him win, Marcy. I promise we won’t. You saved us, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t return the favour.

A breeze kicked up, ruffling her thick, curly hair, and in the caress of the wind she swore she could hear a carefree giggle and a sweet summons of Anna-Banana. She let out a slow breath, and a lone tear spilled from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek.

I forgive you, Mar-Mar. I forgive you.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #true colors #amphibia fanfic #true colors fanfic #anne boonchuy #sprig plantar #hop pop plantar #polly plantar #grief #mourning #angst #hurt/comfort #byanimationnut #tw death #death

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reki-of-the-valley · 3 years ago

Text

Fall For You Like the Rain From the Clouds

Here it is! The rain fic from this post of mine!

Find it on AO3 here

1- Me

Langa groans as Reki bounces around his room. His face is pressed against the window, watching the rain stream down the glass, and Langa knows that he’s glowing. He knows that Reki is excited. He knows that Reki loves the rain. But he hates it. Langa hates the rain with a passion and nothing can change that.

Nothing good ever happens when it rains and Langa’s come to accept that. Rain just makes everything horrible. Everything feels sticky from the heavy humidity, the smell of earthworms makes Langa gag, his hair dye always runs down his neck, staining his clothes in the process, and more than half of the time he’s been caught in the rain, Langa’s caught a cold. Rain makes everything absolutely shitty and Langa’s luck in life does not make it better. Stormy weathers always announce another horrible thing that will happen in his life, like his fight with Reki, like when…

Langa flops down into Reki’s bed, his textbook heavy on his face. If he doesn’t see the bad weather, then it doesn’t exist. Nothing bad can happen if he ignores the storm. Maybe he can sleep the bad weather way. Anything to get away from the gray skies.

“Langa!” Langa pushes the textbook down onto his chest, his eyes locking with Reki’s. They’re shinning, big and excited, as Reki leans over him. Langa gulps, his heart pounding in his chest. Reki’s not usually this close. “Langa, c’mon! No one’s outside and I want to try something!”

Langa shakes his head. Even if Reki is looking at him with his big amber eyes, looking so excited, Langa still hates the rain. Whatever he feels for Reki will not make his hatred for the rain go away. Reki might be able to get him to act like a fool, but he won’t get him to stop hating the rain.

“C’mon, dude! Please?” Langa shakes his head once again. He will not be led out under the storm. “I need you, man! Who’s gonna be there to cheer me on when I fall on my ass? Please, Langa? I’ll buy you whatever snack you want if you come, I promise.”

Langa groans. Promising snacks is probably considered cheating since Reki knows Langa can’t refuse the offer. Langa forgets his wallet at home half of the time, and there’s always something he wants from the supermarket or the vending machine, something he would buy if he had his wallet on him. So the promise of getting him whatever it is that he would have bought himself, but can’t due to his forgetfulness, it’s cheating. Reki knows it. And he’s using it against Langa.

Langa sighs as he sits up, his textbook tumbling to the ground. He doesn’t want to go, but with everything that Reki’s said to him, promised him, he can’t refuse the boy. Langa knows that with enough pleading he would have ended up giving in, no matter how much he wants to deny that truth. In the end, he always gives in to Reki, gives in to his excitability, to his eagerness, to his happiness. Rain is the worst, but Reki is the best.

“Explain to me again why you love the rain so much?” Langa asks as he pulls his shoes on.

Reki’s grinning, holding his board tightly to his chest. He’s shinning against the dark skies behind him, the front door wide open. And he’s shifting from foot to foot, unable to stand still. It’s nothing new, Reki’s fidgeting, but sometimes it’s tiring to watch. When Langa’s mood is as dark as the sky, then Reki’s bouncing makes him want to turn away and crash into the nearest soft surface.

“Dude! Isn’t it obvious? The rain in your face, the deserted streets, the cool wind, what’s not to love? And I just made these new wheels that I really wanna test out and there’s just no better time than now!” He’s glowing. Reki is glowing under the porch light. “The grip is gonna be freaking amazing on these!”

Langa sighs, clenching his jaw as he pushes himself up from the ground. He doesn’t take his board. He doesn’t take anything actually. His own weight is already too much for him to bear, he can’t put on anything else.

“Can’t I just watch you from inside?”

Reki bumps his shoulder against Langa’s as they step outside. The rain is beating down, each drop bouncing off the pavement, but Reki doesn’t care. He’s running out under it, shaking his hair out of his face as he lets it fall freely against his skin. He grins and Langa wonders how he can bear it. How can he like the rain that much? But then he’s tilting his head towards Langa and Langa gulps.

“Well, you coming?”

Langa has no control over his legs. They carry him to the boy even if he really doesn’t want to be there, the rain soaking him to the bone. He curses Reki’s power over him. He curses his own desire to be near the boy.

Langa watches Reki kick at the puddles as they make their way down the street, to the empty parking lot they sometimes go to when they don’t want to go all the way to the skatepark. He’s giggling as he jumps into one, splashing Langa in the process. He’s already soaked, but the extra splashing makes him groan again as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I hate it here.”

“C’mon, man!” Reki tosses his board to the ground. It lands in a puddle and Langa steps aside before he can be splashed again. “You gotta learn to have fun.”

And he’s skating off. His board is gripping onto the wet pavement, not slipping at all. Reki didn’t exactly explain how these wheels are any different from the other ones he used in the rain. He only said that their grip should theoretically be better, and seeing him slide down the street, his prediction seems correct. Langa watches as he zigzags down the street. He watches as he lands an ollie. The board doesn’t slip as it hits the road and Reki shouts, both arms up in excitement.

“It worked!”

Langa rolls his eyes as Reki swerves and makes his way back to him. He can feel the rain drip down his neck, down onto his shoulders, and he knows that blue hair dye is soaking through his shirt. He knows that as soon as he gets home, he’ll have to soak it with the stuff his mother bought, the detergent that pulls out all of the hair dye from the towels he uses to dry his hair after a shower. If he’s lucky, no trace of tonight will remain. But given his track record of luck when it comes to rain, he might as well say goodbye to his shirt right now.

“Great. The wheels grip fine. Can we go back in now?”

Reki puffs his cheeks and stares at Langa before bursting out laughing. “You always look so funny when you pout, you know that?” Langa glares at Reki who is still laughing. He almost kicks the board from under his feet out of petty revenge but holds back. “C’mon,” Reki pokes Langa’s cheek, “you gotta learn to have fun, man!”

“I have more than enough fun. I don’t need to enjoy the rain.”

Reki is mocking him, exaggerated mimicking, but before Langa can do or say anything to make him stop, he’s pushing off down the deserted street once more.

Langa’s toes curl in his shoes. The rain has soaked through his socks and everything feels itchy. He wants to go back home. He wants to kick his shoes off, get rid of the puddle that’s formed under the soles of his feet. He wants to jump in the shower and envelop himself with the hot rain that falls from the showerhead instead of the cold natural shower that makes him feel sticky and gross. He wants to wrap himself in a big blanket, those with the fluffy cotton on the inside, and watch a cheese movie he’s seen a hundred times but still can’t get enough of. He wants to be inside, far from the troubled skies that make him grumpy.

But Reki is skating up and down the street, coming to abrupt stops before pushing off once again. He’s trying everything he can think of to test the grip of his wheels while Langa just stands there, trying his best to conceal his shivers and chattering teeth, hands stuffed deep in the pocket of the hoodie Reki lent him. He’s having fun while Langa is miserable.

“Reki, can we please go back in?”

Reki can’t hear him, too busy rolling through puddles.

“Reki,” Langa tries again, dragging his cold feet towards the boy. “Reki, I hate it out here. Can we go back?”

Still, nothing. The rain is beating down too strongly. It’s draining Langa’s words out.

“Reki!”

He finally comes to a halt, splashing Langa once more, not that either one notices. Langa is practically panting, his whole body shaking. He’s cold, he’s freezing, but his face is red. It’s red and hot but it’s also so cold that it burns. His head is starting to hurt and he can’t feel his toes or fingers any more.

“Reki, I’m going home.”

“What?” Reki pinches his eyebrows. “Why?”

Langa clenches his jaw. His teeth are shattering and his shoulders are tense. He’s been outside for long enough now. “I hate the rain, that’s why. I’m cold and miserable and I want to go home.”

Reki sighs as he pulls his hoodie off. Langa recoils as the sights of Reki’s skin, the way his t-shirt rides up his stomach, clinging there instead of falling back as soon as Reki’s arms are back to his side. And Langa tenses as the hoodie is tossed on his head, the wet hood hitting him in the face.

“Sorry, dude.” Reki pushes the hood back, revealing Langa’s face. “I know it’s not much and that it’s soaked, but it’ll keep the rain out of your face for the time being, okay? And,” Reki picks up his board from the ground, tucking it under his arm, “I’m sorry for pulling you out in the rain. I didn’t think you hated it that much.”

There’s a beat of silence. Langa doesn’t know what to say; he wants to keep complaining, complain about his itchy feet, complain about his trembling fingers, complain about his chattering teeth, but no words want to come out. So he just stares at Reki, trying his best to not shake too much; he doesn’t want to make Reki worry.

Reki’s hand finds its way to Langa’s shoulder. His fingers dig into the fabric covering Langa’s shoulder, a reassuring squeeze before pushing him forward to start walking. His smile is there, but it’s not bright as it was moments before. It’s not the smile he had when his head was tilted back, laughing as the rain fell onto his face.

“Let’s go back to my place. It’s closer than yours, so you won’t have to be in the rain as long. And you can borrow some of my clothes while yours dry.”

Langa gives him a curt nod. He feels bad, pulling Reki out of the rain that had made him smile so big. Langa feels bad, but then his body is shaking so bad that even Reki comments on it. He’s laughing a bit, that choked laughter where he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to laugh but he can’t completely conceal it, as he says something about Langa not dealing with the cold that well.

“It’s not like snow,” Langa says, rubbing his hands together in the pocket of the hoodie he’s wearing. It doesn’t do much, but at least he’s moving and he can pretend to be warming up. “Rain soaks through everything and snow… You have thick coats and mittens and scarves and hats and boots. You’re bundled up enough to not be cold. But with rain… It just sucks.”

“Remind me to buy you a raincoat and rainboots then.”

Reki bumps his shoulder against Langa’s, flashing him a smile. Langa bites the inside of his cheeks, falling back into a pout as he turns away from the boy. The teasing almost feels comforting, but not enough to make him forget about the uncomfortable rain. It feels nice to hear Reki laugh at himself, but it’s not enough to get Langa to talk. So he stays silent for the rest of the way back to Reki’s house. He stays silent as Reki keeps talking, talking about everything and nothing at all. He’s silent, but always listening. He always listens to Reki’s chatter and, even if he feels miserable, it cheers him up ever so slightly. Reki’s warmth cheers him up just a little.

Langa hates the rain. Langa hates the rain so much that once the house comes into view, he runs to it. He runs, crashing into the door before pushing it open. He runs, stumbling over his feet as he kicks his shoes off. He runs until the heat of the house hits him in waves of relief. He runs until his body stops shaking, his teeth no longer chattering.

Reki isn’t far behind him, running after him, but not for the same reasons. Unlike Langa, he’s laughing as he chases. He’s laughing as he also kicks his shoes off. He’s laughing as his body crashes against Langa’s, both stumbling down the hallway but catching each other before they fall over. Reki laughs, laughter overflowing with happiness, as he ushers Langa towards the bathroom, urging him to go take a shower before he catches a cold. And Langa complies. Langa lets himself be pushed towards the bathroom, lets himself feel the warmth of the Kyan household even if he knows that he will be sneezing for the next few days.

2 - You

Langa purses his lips as he watches the rain beat down onto the pavement. He’s standing under the awning of the corner store, a bag of snacks hanging from his wrist. Reki is standing next to him, his hand extended to catch a few droplets. He’s grinning at the sky, laughing as he shakes the water from his fingers. He’s grinning as he cups his hands to catch more of the rain. He has fun catching the water and letting it fall onto the ground.

He's grinning as he keeps playing with the rain. And when his eyes lock with Langa’s, his head tilted to the side, they shine. They shine brighter than the thousands of stars that illuminate the night sky they usually skate under. They shimmer and shine and Langa can’t help but sigh. Reki loves the rain just as much as Langa hates it.

Langa stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he looks up at the sky. Gray clouds have covered every patch of blue, denying him any hope of the rain coming to a halt. If he’s lucky, he can take off, run as fast as his body allows him, and be home without too much of a mess. If he’s lucky, the streets won’t be too wet and his shoes will be able to grip onto the pavement instead of tossing him to the ground to eat said pavement. If he’s lucky, he won’t have to be trapped under the rain for too long. If he’s lucky, he won’t be in too much of a bad mood.

But then Reki has his shoulder pressed against his. He’s leaning into Langa, his board pressed to his chest, as he keeps staring at Langa. A little more and he’s falling onto Langa, sending them both tumbling to the ground from his whole weight shifted to the side. Thankfully, Langa is steady on his feet. He’s a pillar of support for Reki and his uncentered center of balance. He’s a pillar and Reki knows this as he lets his head rest against Langa’s.

“Would now be a bad time to suggest taking the long way home?”

Langa glances at Reki, Reki who’s smiling so brightly, feigning innocence with his big, amber eyes glued onto Langa. He purses his lips again before huffing and shaking his head. His eyes follow the way the rain falls to the ground, each drop bouncing before splitting open against the wet pavement. This isn’t some light drizzle he can almost ignore; this is a full-on rainstorm.

Reki straightens out and tucks his board under one arm while he rubs his nose with his free hand. His face doesn’t betray his emotions, but Langa knows that he’s something close to disappointment. He’s come to read the signs. He’s also come to miss the heat that had started to form between their bodies.

“C’mon!” Reki bumps his shoulder against Langa’s. A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as he shakes his head, slightly bitter laughter spilling from his mouth. “I just don’t get it. How can you,” he steps out under the rain, his fluffy red hair quickly coming down with the rain and sticking to his head and cheeks, “hate this? It’s just- Dude, it’s freaking awesome!”

Seeing him grin, his cheeks reddening from the cold air, it almost pulls Langa out from under the awning to join him. It almost has Langa forgetting about his absolute hatred of the wet, sticky rain. It almost has him forgetting about it all. Almost, but not quite. Almost, but Langa counters by taking a step back, back almost pressed against the front wall of the little store.

“I already told you: rain is cold and it makes me miserable. But if you need more reasons, then-” Langa holds up a finger as he begins his list of miserable things that come with the downpour. With each reason, he puts up a finger. “It makes my hair drip and it stains my clothes, the humidity is disgusting and I have a hard time breathing, everything feels sticky, rain soaks through everything and my shoes are always wet for the next three days, and worst of all, everything smells of worms which is gross.”

Reki sighs, but his smile doesn’t falter. Langa watches him, eyebrows knit, as he crouches down, pulling off his backpack to strap his board to it. He watches as the boy jumps up to his feet, splashing rain as his feet hit the ground once more. Langa watches his every movement until his brain blanks out, the feeling of Reki’s warm calloused fingers against his own.

“C’mon.” Reki tugs Langa closer to him, a warm smile hazing Langa’s mind as he is forced to step out under the rain. Reki’s fingers tighten around his, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me? It’s fun, I promise.”

Langa is hesitant to believe Reki – he can’t think of a single thing that might be fun about the rain – but he doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t jump back under the awning. He trusts Reki, giving him a curt nod. And having Reki’s warm palms against his, it’s an opportunity Langa can’t give up. He can’t give up his change of having Reki’s hands in his, his precious touch which Langa so desperately longs for.

He might never admit to it, but he loves the feeling of Reki pressed against him. He loves it when Reki leans into his side, their shoulders pressed together as they walk down the street. He loves the feeling of Reki’s whole weight on him as he hugs him excitedly after another victory. He loves the feeling of Reki’s warm hands in his as he guides him around, pointing around with his free hand. Every touch, it never fails to shoot shivers down Langa’s spine, warming his whole body and flushing his face. Reki, with a single touch of his, manages to start a fire in Langa, warmth so different from his usual cold. Comfortable warmth contrasting the horrible cold of the rain.

“Reki…”

Reki raises an eyebrow as Langa begins whining, but his hold on Langa doesn’t loosen as he continues to guide him through the rain.

“Reki, I don’t wanna…” Langa pouts, letting himself be dragged along. “Can’t I just call my mom so she can pick us up or something? I know she’s home right now.”

Reki laughs, his smile so wide and happy. “Stop being such a big baby, man!” His fingers tighten around Langa’s, hands still clasped together as he continues to walk backward, tugging Langa closer to him. “You’ve dealt with way worse at S. So much worse than just a little rain. So c’mon!” His arms swing around, dragging Langa’s along in the movement. “Where’s the Langa that takes up every challenge he’s presented with, even the most insane ones? Where’s the reckless dumbass that never backs down from a challenge?”

Langa sighs as he continues dragging his feet against the street. He sighs as he feels the dampness of his hair, the blue-stained rain trickling down his neck. He sighs as his lungs begin to feel heavy from the humidity, the air clogging the entryway at the base of his throat. He sighs as his toes curl in his shoes, beginning to itch once more, his socks and sneakers soaking through.

“Only you’re crazy enough to skate in the rain, Reki. Because out of all the things I’ve ever done, this here,” Langa looks around the deserted street, his attempt at gesturing at the rain without his hands, “it’s the worst thing ever.”

“I promise you’ll have fun.”

Despite the rain, Langa somehow manages to smile. He manages to smile as Reki continues to drag him along, both hands still flush against Langa’s, his grip not loosening one moment. He manages to smile as Reki beams, his head tilted back, raindrops kissing his sun-kissed face. He manages to smile as he watches Reki so happy, so excited about the rain. He smiles as Reki goes on and on about the rain, about every wonderful thing that it brings: puddles to jump in, deserted streets to skate down, bright rainbows as the clouds start to part, beautiful blooming flowers in the morning. The list goes on and Langa can’t stop smiling. He can’t stop smiling as Reki laughs that beautiful laugh of his, excited and free. Langa smiles because Reki always manages to find a silver lining. He finds something beautiful even to the most dreadful of things. He always manages to brighten up Langa’s somber moods.

“Oh! And you can only do this when it rains!”

Langa frowns as Reki slips his fingers out of his, their hands parting ways as the boy slings his backpack to the ground and dashes off. Langa frowns as he shoves his hands back into his pockets, his plastic bag filled with snacks hitting his leg. He frowns until he’s snorting, laughter coming as he watches Reki jump, both feet landing in a puddle and sending him flying backward. Langa snorts as Reki yelps, trying in vain to grab onto the air.

For the first time, the rain makes Langa laugh. He laughs as Reki remains on his back, lying in the middle of the street, too stunned to get up. Langa laughed until he can’t breathe, crouching next to Reki to catch his breath.

“Right.” Langa takes a deep breath, trying his best to calm his fits of laughter. “Nothing quite like rain for you to bust your ass.”

“I hate mud,” Reki grumbles, still sprawled on the wet ground.

Langa doubles down laughing, falling to his knees as he chokes on his own laughter. It’s been a while since the last time he had laughed this much. It’s been a while since the last time he had clutched his stomach, gasping for air, desperately trying to calm his laughter before it made him pass out completely. It’s been a while since the last time his laughter had brought tears to his eyes.

Reki finally manages to sit up, laughing as well as he rubs the back of his head. He laughs that pretty laughter of his, loud and unguarded. He laughs as he rubs his nose, his whole face flushed from the cold. He laughs as he shoves Langa to the side, causing him to fall back into a puddle of his own. He laughs until it’s all Langa can hear, every hitch in his breathing, every snort, every little detail in his laugh pattern.

Together, they laugh until it hurts.

“I told you!” Langa gasps as he kicks Reki’s foot, drawing his attention to him. “The rain sucks.”

“And yet,” Reki leans closer to Langa, flicking his forehead as he grins his sunshine grin, “you’re laughing. See? Told you you’d have fun, dude!”

Langa can’t deny Reki’s words. He can’t deny that he’s having fun. He can’t deny that he’s enjoying himself as he pushes himself off the ground and pulling Reki up to join him, their hands coming together once again. He can’t deny the fun he’s having as he laughs so freely. He can’t deny that Reki was right. Not when he has completely forgotten about the rain trickling down his face and neck. Not when he’s forgotten all about the sticky humidity and the smell of earthworms. He can’t all the fun he’s having in the rain as he watches Reki jump from puddle to puddle like a child having the time of his life. He can’t deny any of it, not when he’s being pulled along, dragged into Reki’s game and jumping into the puddles as well. He can’t deny any of it as he laughs, laughs like he’s never laughed before.

No matter how hard Langa might have tried, he can’t deny that he’s having fun. Denial is pointless because Reki is there. Reki, as always, had managed to make him laugh. Reki, as always, had found a way to make him laugh. Reki, as always, had found a way to make him enjoy what life had to offer. Reki, as always, had managed to make Langa fall in love with the world that surrounded him.

3 - Us

The lights of Reki’s room flicker as a flash of lightning illuminates the evening sky outside his window. Langa tenses as the thunder rumbles outside, but Reki is jumping to his feet and running to his window. He throws it open and pushes himself onto his desk, legs folded under his body as he pokes his head out of his room to get a closer view of the storm. Another flash of lightning brightens the dark sky, electricity fizzling through the thick clouds. The thunder doesn’t even have time to reach Langa’s ears for him to grab onto Reki’s hood, pulling him back in the room.

Reki stumbles, falling back onto his desk chair which swivels around the room once or twice. He blinks as Langa pulls the window shut, huffing as he leans back against the cluttered desk. A grin breaks across Reki’s face as he relaxes into his chair.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of thunderstorms.”

“I’m not scared!” Langa snaps before jumping at the sound of yet another crash outside the window. Reki bursts out laughing as Langa whips around, pulling the curtain shut.

“You’re totally scared, dude.” He’s biting his lip, trying to contain his laughter as he rubs his nose. “S’okay, no need to be ashamed. Everyone has their fears.”

“I said I’m not-!”

Langa digs his nails into the desk as he ducks his head, his bangs falling over his eyes that he’s squeezed shut. More thunder rumbles in the distance, tensing Langa’s shoulders. The storm is getting worse, it seems. Even with his eyes shut, he can see that the lights are flickering again, and he fears the worse; if there’s a power outage, he isn’t sure how he’s going to react. He never liked storms and darkness, after all.

Reki’s fingers brush against his cheek and that alone pulls Langa out of his head, spiraling fears of the worse bleeding out as his eyes open to Reki’s look of concern. His head is tilted to the side, eyebrows pulled together as he pushes Langa’s bangs out of his eyes. And Langa feels himself flush as Reki pushes the strand of hair behind his ear, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyes lock with Langa’s. He flushes at the sight of those amber eyes filled with care and kindness.

“Really, it’s okay if you’re scared. I won’t judge you or anything.”

Langa takes a deep breath, trying his best to calm his pounding heart – he isn’t sure if it’s from the storm or from Reki’s touch. He takes a deep breath as he straightens out. His nails are still digging into the wood of the desk, but at least he isn’t shaking anymore. At least he isn’t jumping into Reki’s arms as another clap of thunder shakes the window behind him. He’s calm. Completely calm. Totally calm because he isn’t scared. He is not afraid of the storm. He simply hates the rain.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Langa peels himself off of the desk. Tentatively, they return to what they had been doing before the rain had begun to beat down to the ground. Langa makes his way back to Reki’s bed, pulling his legs to his chest, back to the wall, as his phone rests against his knees. Reki drops his body to the ground, both elbows pressed to his sides as he holds his phone above his face. The air is tense and heavy, but they stay like that, each absorbed by their screens, plunged in silence. They stay like that until Reki is jumping back to his feet and crashing on his bed, his head on Langa’s shoulder.

His eyes twinkle as Langa clicks his phone shut and letting it slide down his knees. His attention is riveted onto Reki who is grinning wider than Langa’s ever seen. Stars play in the boy’s eyes, shining like the fluorescent plastic stars that have been stuck to his ceiling for over a decade now. They shine and Langa knows that he’s doomed. They shine and Langa knows that he’s going to do whatever it is that Reki suggests.

“So…” Langa gulps as Reki starts fiddling with a stray thread poking out of Langa’s sleeve. “Since you’re totally not scared of the storm, I was thinking…”

“Reki, no.”

He doesn’t want to hear the rest of Reki’s thought. Sure, he loves listening to Reki – he can listen to the boy ramble about most anything for hours on end – but he knows that whenever he gets like this, his voice just a little higher than usual, it’s because he’s about to suggest something absolutely horrible. Reki only ever takes that voice when he knows that his suggestion will get them in trouble. He only ever uses that voice when he knows that someone is going to tell him no. So Langa has learned to never trust that voice, that coy little tone of his.

“Maybe we could go outside?”

Langa shakes his head. He knows his eyes are huge. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his horror is obvious on his face. He doesn’t need to see himself to know that Reki can pick up on the obvious signs because nothing about his suggestion appeals to him.

He hates the rain. He hates the lightning and the thunder. He hates the storm that’s brewing outside the house. He hates it all and Reki knows it.

“Absolutely not.”

Reki shifts to his knees before grabbing Langa’s arm. His eyes are big and pleasing, that look that Langa knows he can never resist. And he’s leaning closer, his face so close to Langa’s. His face so dangerously close to Langa’s.

“Oh c’mon, dude! Why not?”

Langa can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He can feel Reki’s warm breath against his skin and his head starts to fuzz. He can feel every one of his short breaths, his every puff of air as he chuckles, waiting for Langa’s answer.

“It’s dangerous outside?”

Reki flops down into his mattress, limbs spread open like a starfish. There’s that sweet laughter hanging in the air again and Langa feels himself crack a little. He feels himself slip. A little more and he might just give in.

“When’s danger ever stopped you from doing something? Like, seriously, since when has danger ever stopped the great Hasegawa Langa and his infinite amazingness?”

Langa sucks in a breath, still shaking his head. He knows his face is burning red, burning from Reki’s admiration, borderline idolization of him, but he can’t let that get to him. He can’t give in to Reki. He cannot let himself be pulled out under the rain clouds. So he does what he knows best; Langa pouts.

Reki shifts again on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as he looks at Langa. He’s fallen back into something resembling seriousness, but his voice is still light and breathy, filled with adoration. No. Admiration. There’s a difference, Langa has to remind himself.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for. Just give me five minutes in the rain. And I promise,” he smiles as he finally sits up, “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

Langa sighs. He’s giving in. He’s giving in to Reki’s eagerness. He’s giving in to his shiny eyes. He’s giving in to his adoration of the rain. He’s giving in to whatever Reki wants because in the end, doesn’t he always?

“You get five minutes. And you owe me chocolate bar after this.”

Reki tumbles off of his bed, shouting that Langa’s got himself a deal as he jumps to his feet and grabs Langa’s hand. Langa almost pulls back, startled by the loudness of Reki’s voice, but then his fingers are slipping between Reki's as he is pulled up from the bed. Reki’s grin is blinding, his eyes twinkling. He’s up to something, but Langa can’t tell what it is. Guessing what Reki is up to has always been an impossible game for Langa.

Langa slips on his shoes in silence. He groans as his laces fall undone once more, slipping from his fingers for what feels like the millionth time already. He’s never had a hard time tying his shoes until now, his eyes quickly bouncing between his feet and Reki’s incessant bouncing. He can’t concentrate on a single, simple task. He’s too fixated on Reki. He wants to know what he’s planning. He needs to know what he just agreed to.

Reki turns back to him, his eyes big and shiny, before poking his head out the door again. Langa can see him looking around, his head snapping left and right. He can see the bounce in his step as he excitedly shifts from foot to foot in the doorway. He can feel the excitement rolling off of Reki, buzzing the air around him.

“No one’s out,” he says, turning back to Langa with a smile, a smile like the morning sun peeking through the blinds, shy yet so insistent.

Langa huffs as he pushes himself up from the ground and smooths out his shirt. His shoes are finally tied after far too many attempts.

“No shit it’s deserted. Except you, no one wants to go outside.”

Reki’s smile drops at Langa’s words. His eyes search Langa’s face, perhaps searching for lightheartedness in his tone and features, and for a moment, it’s like the Heavens turned off the stars for the night, stars that usually shimmer and shine in Reki’s now dull eyes. His mouth moves, but no words come out. Nothing comes out, not that Langa would let a single word fill the air before he could fix his obvious mistake. Gently, he places his hand on Reki’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze, bringing the starts back to his world.

“I want to go with you. I said I would.”

Reki’s fingers fiddle and twist with the sleeves of his hoodie, poking through the holes that formed over the years of wear and tear. His eyes quickly shift between his hands and Langa’s face, looking almost unsure if he is allowed to even look at Langa. “It’s really fine if you want wanna. I mean, you’re right. No one would willingly want to go out in this shitty weather.”

“I said-” Langa tenses as another clap of thunder rumbles outside, but he pushes through. He said he would go. He wasn’t going to back out of this. He wasn’t walking away from Reki. “I said you had five minutes.”

Reki’s smile eases its way back against his lips as Langa’s palm brushes against his, fingers slipping between his. His summer sweetness breaks through as Langa smiles back, tone light with tenderness.

“So take me there?”

No star ever shone as bright as Reki as his fingers tighten around Langa’s. No star can ever hold a candle to Reki as he pulls Langa out of the house, his smile brighter than any summer sun. Nothing could ever compare to the joy that he exudes as his hair flattens and sticks to his face from the rain. Nothing can compare to Reki, to all that he is.

His hand doesn’t leave Langa’s as he pulls him along, corner after corner. And with every turn, his grip tightens. It has to be that he’s afraid that Langa would flee back home as soon as he let him go, run the moment he feels Reki’s hold on him loosen. It’s the only explanation Langa can come up with as Reki crushes his hand with his. It’s the only thing that makes sense, not that Reki is making sense to him right now. It doesn’t make sense, his uncontrollable giggles as he glances back at Langa. It doesn’t make sense, his little tugs every time they take a turn.

“Can I at least get a hint as to where you’re dragging me?”

Reki shakes his head, his giggles breaking up his sentence. His grin plays on something mischievous. “Nope! It’s a surprise, dude! You gotta be just a little patient for once.”

Langa sighs as his shoes splash against the pavement. Langa sighs but he doesn’t slow down. They’re practically running now, Reki laughing so openly as he drags Langa along. He laughs as he takes another sharp turn, slipping a little as he pulls Langa down yet another back alley. They’ve taken so many that Langa is lost. He can’t recall every turn they’ve taken, ever corner cut. The only things he knows is that they’re getting farther and farther from Reki’s house and that it’s been more than five minutes that they’ve been outside. All Langa knows is that, besides Reki and himself, there’s absolutely no one around.

They finally come to halt, both panting from the run. Langa, as he catches his breath, takes in his surrounding. He doesn’t know where they are; there’s nothing extraordinary from the deserted street in which they’ve stopped, but he also doesn’t recognize it. He doesn’t know where they are, but Reki seems pleased with himself. He seems pleased with his head tilted back, laughing and grinning. He seems pleased as he quickly glances around.

His cheeks are flushed from exhaustion as he turns on his heel to face Langa. His hair frames his face, sticking to his cheeks from the mixture of rain and sweat. All his clothes had soaked through, falling awkwardly against his body, but he’s still grinning. He’s grinning as if he just won the lottery, the jackpot that is this dimly lit street.

“Reki, what-!”

Langa’s eyes widen as Reki grabs the collar of his shirt. Langa’s breath catches as he’s pulled forward, stumbling on his own feet. Langa’s whole body freezes as Reki’s hands find their way to his cheeks before pressing his lips to Langa’s.

Langa almost misses the electric shock that jolts down his spine at the contact. He almost misses the whole world brightening for a split second, a flash of electricity lighting up the whole world as his lips meet Reki’s in a kiss. He almost misses the clap of thunder that syncs up with Reki’s impulsivity. He almost misses it all as the world fades away, only Reki remaining. Reki and his sweet kiss.

Langa almost doesn’t react, shock short-circuiting his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, actually. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, hands that hover awkwardly around Reki’s waist. Should he hold on to Reki? Should he touch him? Can he do that? Is he allowed?

His whole body is tense, but then he’s squeezing his eyes shut as he tries his best to kiss Reki back. He tries his best to calm his pounding heart and just kiss Reki back. He tries to concentrate all his efforts on Reki, on the cold contact of his lips against Langa’s, on the warmth of his breath, on the sweetness of his kiss. Langa tries to kiss Reki back like he means it, like he wants it, because he does. He wants to kiss Reki, but he doesn’t know how to show Reki that he wants to. Kissing shouldn’t be this difficult. Kissing shouldn’t make the whole world spin. It shouldn’t make his knees so weak.

Reki is the one to break the kiss. It starts and ends with Reki, much like Langa’s new life in Japan. It always starts and ends with Reki. Starts with his laughter and ends with his tired giggles. It starts with his smiles and ends with his heavy eyes. Every day starts and ends with Reki for Langa. Every day for as long as he can hope for.

Reki breaks the kiss, biting his lip as he drops his head on Langa’s shoulder. Reki breaks the kiss, laughter falling from his lips as freely as the rain falls from the clouds. And Langa laughs with him, shaky yet so happy. Never in a million years did he expect to be so happy. Never in a million years did he think it was possible for him to be this happy.

Had he been discreet with his crush on his best friend? Not particularly. He never went out of his way to make it evident, but then Miya was nudging him and telling him that he was gross and being way too obvious with his wide-eyed staring. He never really tried to put it on display, but then Joe was ruffling his hair and telling him to go for it. Langa never really meant for his crush to be as obvious as it was.

Sure, a few jokes about it had slipped out over the months, but he didn’t think Reki had picked up on them. He didn’t even think Reki had heard them since he had never made anything out of them. Like most of the nonsense that he said, Langa thought his crush had gone a thousand feet over Reki’s head, but then, there he is, standing in the rain, completely drenched as he smiles wider than he ever has. Langa smiles into the open air as he laughs with Reki because Reki, despite his oblivious streak, picked up on his not-so-subtle hints. Reki had picked up on them and somehow, by some blessing of life, reciprocated Langa’s feelings. Or at least, Langa sure hopes his feelings are reciprocated given that Reki did drag him out in the rain just to kiss him.

Both their chests heave against each other as their laughter calms. Reki finally straightens out, but still, he stays close to Langa. The palm of his hand finds Langa’s, their fingers lacing together as he pushes a strand of dripping hair behind Langa’s ear. And he presses his smile to Langa’s once more, giddy giggles breaking up their kiss. But Langa can’t complain. He never would complain about that. He would never complain about Reki’s sweet kisses or about the way his eyes shine behind his wet hair. He would never complain about his happy giggles or how he holds Langa’s face so gently. Langa would never complain about having Reki this close, whispers breaking against his lips.

“Maybe now you won’t hate the rain so much.”

And Langa can’t resist it. He can’t resist pressing another kiss to Reki’s mouth, messy and clumsy but filled with adoration. Because Reki is right: Langa won’t hate the rain so much anymore.

#I wrote something!#I wrote something for real!#And it was fun to write so #yay!#Please don't let this flop 🤞#renga #snowgear #lanreki #langa x reki #reki x langa #langa #hasegawa langa #langa hasegawa #reki #kyan reki #reki kyan #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #lils writes

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onlyangelcas · 4 years ago

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boats and a blue-eyed birthday boy

read on ao3

The boat won’t start, because that’s just Dean’s luck. His son is inside, celebrating his 4th birthday, and his surprise gift is malfunctioning right before the big reveal.

Ever since Dean, Cas, and Jack moved out of the bunker and into their cottage-style lake house, Jack had been obsessed with the water. He was enthralled by the lake, spending hours on the dock watching the fish swim by or dipping his feet in on warm days. Cas fueled his interest by purchasing every book and guide about lake-dwelling creatures and plants.

Jack’s obsession was pushed even further when their elderly neighbor had offered to take him fishing on his boat. From that moment on, boats became all the rage in the Winchester home. Books about boats moved in next to the lake books on Jack’s bookshelf, his cowboy themed bed sheets were swapped for a set adorned with tiny sailboats. Dean and Cas had to practically restrain him from pestering their neighbor for a boat ride everyday.

That’s how Dean found himself purchasing a repaired boat from some guy in southwest Minnesota. He had made the drive to pick up the boat a few weeks ago, it was relatively affordable, not a luxury speedboat or ridiculous pontoon, but perfect for about 6 people to climb on board for a day of fishing or relaxing on the water. Dean had made a plan with El, their elderly neighbor, to keep the boat stored in his garage until Jack’s birthday. El was happy to help, even took apart the motor to make sure everything was working and got it in the water that morning to surprise Jack.

Now, Dean is huffing over the damn thing, trying to decipher why it won’t start. Everyone else, including El, the only person that could actually help him, is inside trying to keep Jack distracted while Dean preps the boat.

“Shit,” Dean curses, after another failed attempt at turning the engine over.

He slams his forehead into the steering wheel, frustrated tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Four was the worst year of Dean’s life, for obvious reasons, and he wanted to make sure that Jack’s fourth year was everything that his wasn’t. He knows it’s stupid, to get this worked up over a freaking boat, but this boat was so much more than that. It was a promise to Jack that he would always be there, he would always love him. So if he’s a little emotional over the possibility that this boat will ruin his son’s very important 4th birthday, who can blame him?

Dean turns his face toward the sky, the sun peaking through the tree branches to warm his skin. He thinks this is a moment he would pray, if he had anyone to pray to. Considering his two favorite angels are already inside the house, it seems kind of arbitrary. Instead he just looks at the sky, watches puffy white clouds drift by lazily, and wonders pointlessly about what he did to deserve this.

“Looks like you could use some help.” Says a gravelly voice Dean instantly recognizes as belonging to El.

He runs a hand across his face, quickly wiping away any evidence of tears. “You think you can get this thing going?”

“I should have told you earlier, you got to give it some gas as you turn the key.” El says simply, nudging Dean out of the way before pressing his foot to the accelerator and starting the boat.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Dean declares, slapping a hand to the other man’s back. “I thought the day was ruined.”

El laughs, adjusting his trucker cap and turning to face Dean with a serious look. “Boy, you think this boat not running would have ruined the day?”

Dean cocks his head to the side slightly, a mannerism he’s picked up from Cas after all these years. “Would have been a bummer if Jack’s surprise tanked.”

“You coulda given that kid an old thing with a couple of paddles and he woulda been ecstatic.” El smiles, clapping his shoulder affectionately. “All he really wants is something to share with you.”

In moments like these, El reminds him of Bobby so much that it almost knocks the wind out of him. There’s a lump in Dean’s throat, he quickly turns his head toward the ground and lets out a wet laugh.

“You and Cas,” El starts again. “And I guess Sam helped out, too. You guys raised that boy right, he doesn’t need things to be happy, he just needs people.”

Dean looks up, his glossy eyes meeting El’s, he gives him a soft smile. “Now, how’s about we go get that kid and show him his gift.”

“Yeah,” Dean laughs. “It’s showtime.”

El promises to keep watch of the boat while Dean jogs back up to the house. He pulls open the backdoor and immediately bumps into Kaia, who is looking at him guilty with her hands tight around Claire’s waist.

“Really? This is a birthday party for a 4 year old.” Dean attempts to scold, but there’s no real heat to it.

“Sorry!” Kaia yells as Claire says, “Who died and made you a patron saint?”

Dean laughs loudly at that, pressing a kiss to the side of Claire’s head as he passes. He makes his way into the kitchen, where Sam and Eileen are putting the finishing touches on Jack’s birthday cake.

Where’s Cas? He signs when Eileen catches his eye.

Living room. She signs back, giving him a warm smile.

He can hear Rowena’s laughter filling the room before he even steps over the threshold. She’s standing to the side of the living room, deep in conversation with Jody and Donna. Jack is on the floor with Alex, talking animatedly while he secures one of her braids with a bright pink hair tie. Jack’s wearing a red cowboy hat with a t-shirt that says ‘This is my 4th rodeo’, the shirt was Cas’ idea, along with the matching ‘Jack’s 4th Rodeo’ shirts that everyone in attendance is adorning.

Cas is perched on the sofa, watching Jack and Alex with a fond look in his eyes. Dean slides his hand across Cas’ shoulders and bends down to plant a sweet kiss against his lips. “It’s go time.”

Cas smiles excitedly as Dean sticks his hands under Jack’s armpits and pulls him to his feet. He reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a bandana that he begins to fasten over Jack’s eyes.

“Alright everyone, it’s time for Jack’s big surprise.” Dean says as he secures the bandana around Jack’s head. “Head out to the backyard so we can show our birthday boy his present.”

Everyone files out the backdoor and into the yard behind the house. Dean and Cas each take one of Jack’s hands in their own, leading him toward the dock.

“Okay buddy,” Cas says once the three of them reach the rocky shoreline, the rest of their family gathered behind them. “You ready?”

“Yes! I’m ready!” Jack nearly squeals.

Sam has his phone out, no doubt recording the moment so no one ever forgets it, as if they ever would.

“Everyone countdown with me,” Dean says, reaching for the bandana.

“Three… two… one!” The group counts off in unison as Dean releases the bandana in one swoop.

Jack stands there slack-jawed and in awe for a moment, clearly overwhelmed by the sight in front of him. “A boat?” He asks more than states.

“Yeah, baby, it’s for you.” Dean says, a little confused by the 4 year old’s reaction.

Jack turns to him and Cas, his hands still holding tightly onto theirs. “Our boat?”

“Yeah, Jack, your daddy picked it out for us.” Cas states, running a hand through Jack’s hair.

Jack releases both of their hands then, throwing his arms around Dean’s neck so aggressively that he tumbles from his crouched position onto his butt. “Thank you daddy!”

Dean buries his face into Jack’s neck, hiding his suddenly teary eyes, and says, “Happy birthday kiddo.”

Jack pulls away and places his small hands on the sides of Dean’s face before leaning in and pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “I love you daddy.”

Dean huffs a wet laugh, looking over Jack’s shoulder to see his family watching with eyes as shiny as his own.

“I love you more, Jack.” He says, smacking an equally sloppy kiss to his forehead. “Now, how ‘bout we take it for a spin?”

“Papa too?” Jack asks, eyes lighting up.

Dean looks up at Cas, who has tears slipping unashamedly down his cheeks, and smiles. “Yeah, papa too.”

After they get Jack secured in his life vest, he takes his spot at the front of the boat, kneeling on the seat and leaning precariously over the edge to watch the boat carve through the water. Cas is seated next to him, one hand looped tightly in the back of his life vest, and Dean is at the wheel. The sun is setting over the horizon, reflecting off the lake and painting them in a picture-perfect orange glow.

Jack looks back at Dean, his blonde hair curling slightly from the spray of the boat, his gap-toothed smile is wide and unapologetic. Cas is looking at him, too, affection and love spilling over every feature, his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin.

“I hope I can be 4 forever!” Jack yells, letting out a wild laugh as Cas reaches over to tickle his neck.

Dean knows, somewhere in the back of this mind, that he should be worried that Jack is getting older. One day he’ll grow up, probably move away, and their house will no longer be littered with plastic sailboats and tiny socks discarded around every corner. At this moment, though, he can’t find it in himself to worry. Jack won’t be 4 forever, but he’s sitting in front of Dean with a smile like sunshine, toothy and perfect, laughing raucously, unashamed in his joy, and that will always be enough.

#happy birthday jack #he's 4!!!!!#nougatparty #userzaddy #seraphcastiel #dclcu #djdjdk yes i posted this already but i wanted to include the text in the post not just the link #spn #supernatural

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cosmicoceanfic · 4 years ago

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2.2k, available on AO3

Dean and Cas jog down the stairs of the Bunker, duffle bags in hand. Sam notices that they seem a little looser in the way they walk, which is a relief. Both Dean and Cas have been holed up in their respective rooms for the past few weeks. It’s good that their trip to bury God’s book for Jack worked out for them.

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Hello, Sam.”

“Hey, guys.” Sam smiles, closing his book and standing. “How was your trip?”

“Went alright.” Dean dumps his duffle bag on a chair. “Cas and I got married. Taught him how to change a tire.”

Sam drops the book. It lands on the ground with a heavy thud. “You what?”

“Taught him how to change a tire,” Dean says, a little slower this time.

“No, not that one, the other- you got married?”

“Yeah.”

“The tire changing exercise was helpful.” Cas drops his duffle bag as well. “Especially since I will be continuing to use my truck.”

Sam can’t tell if they’re actually, legitimately fucking with him or not. “You weren’t even a couple when you left!”

“Then we were,” Cas says. “And then we were married.”

“How long was it between getting together and getting married?”

“Bout, hm.” Dean turns to Cas. “Three days?”

“It was on the third day, yes.”

Sam gapes at them.

“Why?” he manages.

Dean shrugs.

“Mostly we thought it’d be funny,” he says.

Sam doesn’t even have an answer to that.

“Aw, buck up, Sammy,” Dean tells him. “It’s almost like you’re not happy for us.”

There’s a slight apprehensive edge to his tone that snaps Sam out of his reverie. “Of course I’m-“ he moves around the table and hugs Dean, who allows it, and then Cas, who brightly returns it. “Congratulations, guys. Long time coming, I guess.”

“Thanks, man.” Dean claps his hands together, which Sam sees now has a faint glint of gold to it. “I’m hungry. Cas, you hungry?”

“I am almost always hungry.”

“Part and parcel of being human, buddy.” Dean gives him a clap on the shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll make us sandwiches.”

Sam watches, still feeling somewhat bewildered, happiness for them somewhere rolling around in that haze, as the two head out of the room, linking hands as they turn towards the hallway.

This isn’t the whole truth, naturally.

This is the reality:

For three weeks, Cas and Dean had hardly spoken, too uncomfortable, too awkward, until Jack had asked them for help, and if there was anything they could not ignore, it was their son coming to him when he needed them.

The trip to bury the book in a remote corner of the country had changed things, softened them, slowly but surely, until after five days, Dean plucked up his courage.

“Cas?” Dean had said as they walked into their motel room for the evening. Cas had looked at him, blinking sleepy eyes, patient.

“I love you,” he’d told him, steeling himself for whatever it was that came next.

“I know,” Cas had answered.

Dean had stared before he could get out “did you just Han Solo me?”

A soft, almost bashful expression crept across Cas’s face, shrugging his shoulders.

Dean gaped.

“Son of a bitch,” he’d said, and lunged in for a kiss.

Three days later, after slow and less slow kisses, linked hands as they drove on back roads, curling up in the same bed, exhausted from the road, Dean left to go get coffee for him and Cas when he stumbled across a pawnshop.

It was a gut decision. The sort you make without thinking through the implications, because it just feels right in the moment, and how could it be anything else later?

It caused more low level panic, however, after the two cheap gold rings had been purchased. He looked down at them in the little plastic baggy they’d given him at the pawnshop.

It’s a lot, he’d thought. It’s a lot, really fast. And he could already picture the look on Sam’s face when they came home, contorted in that specific expression he got when he’s pissy about being confused, the you left for one week and you came back-

Dean closed his fist around the bag before he shoved it in his pocket, stopping by the little donut shop and picking up two coffees and a couple crullers. When he got back to the motel, Cas was in one of his last clean tee shirts and toweling off his hair.

“Got these,” Dean said, putting them on the little piece of furniture the TV rested on. This was a bad idea. He was already acutely aware of what a bad fucking idea this was. His stomach wouldn’t stop clenching. “Little sign in the window says it’s one of the best restaurant in the area according to the newspaper. Course, it could be a really shit newspaper, so-“

“Why are you nervous?” Cas squinted at him as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his socks. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Is there something supernatural in town that requires our attention?”

“No.” Dean had spent his whole goddamn life successfully bluffing his way out of situations and Cas could see he’s nervous at the drop of a pin. “How can you tell I’m nervous?”

He looked almost exasperated. “I know you. I know when you’re nervous.”

He did, didn’t he?

Hell, even if it wasn’t too late to back out now, he wouldn’t want to.

“Don’t freak out,” he said.

“I’m not freaking out.”

“Okay, well.” He sat down on the ground. Kneeling would be… too far. Too much. He was going to have to do this in a way that made sense or he was gonna panic. “Don’t… start freaking out.”

Cas leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he’d said clearly. “And I will not start freaking out.”

Dean got distracted just looking at his face for a few seconds, which had to be in the top ten dumbass Dean Winchester moments, but when Cas’s eyebrows went even further up his forehead he cleared his throat and started fumbling in his pockets.

“Do, uh.” He held out the bag to Cas, who took them with a vaguely baffled expression. “Do you want to wear these?”

Cas stared down at them, bewildered.

“Are these what I’m assuming they are?” he asked slowly.

“Um. I mean, I can’t read your mind, Cas, but-“ Cas gave him a very particular look. “Yes. Yes, those are… what you think they are.”

Cas turned them over in his hands. “Oh.”

“We don’t need to do the whole… shebang. We could just wear them. Unless you wanted to do the whole shebang.”

“I don’t know about ‘shebang’.” Cas did finger quotes while still holding onto the rings and Dean kind of wanted a do over where he did this better just looking at him make them. “It feels like it’s very fast and a long time coming, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, well.” Dean looked down at his hands. “Look, I’m not good at this. You had this whole speech and it was… really good and I’m not. I’m not good at making those speeches. But it’s just… been you, man, it’s been you for a really long time. And it’s the kind of thing where your gut is to say it was always gonna be you, but it wasn’t, right? It wasn’t always gonna be us, Chuck said as much, so that makes it… better, doesn’t it? It makes it better cause we did it ourselves. Even when we didn’t know we were working at it together, we were working at it together. And I’m so glad it was you. Of course I’m so glad it was you. And I want to be doing this with you for as much forever as we get, so. It just… made sense, even though it kinda makes… no sense. I want to do all this with you anyway. The rings, they’re just… they’re just giving it a clearer name than it had before. And if you don’t want that, then it’s fine, because I’ll be here with or without them.”

A heavy silence hung in the air. Dean stared with a little determination at his hands, waiting.

“It was a nice speech,” Cas said, sounding a little choked.

“S’okay.”

“No. It was nice.” Dean finally looked up to see Cas looking a little amused, eyes wet. “Take the compliment, Dean.”

Dean swallowed. “Okay.”

Cas gently turned the bag over in his hand, pulling it up and lightly tipping them out into his palm. He held it out to Dean, who slowly took one of them. They sat there, both holding onto their rings.

“Last chance to take it back,” Cas whispered.

Dean coughed out a bark of laughter. “You first.”

Cas made a similar noise. He quietly slid his ring on at the same time Dean slid on his. He stared at his hand, tilting it this way and that. The gold glinted a little.

“Hey,” he mumbled, unable to keep the slightly giddy grin off his face. “Look at that.”

“Yeah.” A hand slipped into his field of vision as Cas linked theirs together. Dean stares at them, gold against gold. “Look at that.” Cas squeezed it. “Did you ever think someday you’d…”

“No.” Dean swallowed, looking up at him, still grinning. “No, I figured I’d be dead by now.”

Even a joke about his death didn’t seem to be enough to tamp down Cas’s grin. “I’m very glad you’re not.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Not just for this. Dean had a lot of reasons to be grateful to be alive these days, more than he’d ever expected. But this? This was number one right now.

“We can do the shebang if you want.” Cas couldn’t seem to pry his eyes off their joined hands, either. “I don’t… know much of what’s required for such things. But we can do it, if you want.”

“Can we just… see how it goes?” He winced. “I mean, see how it goes like, see how we feel about that, not like, see how this goes, I’m, I’m really clear on how solid I am about-“

“Yes. I know.” Cas stood and pulled Dean up with him. He was about to groan about how fast he pulled him up when Cas lightly tugged him forwards and kissed him, which is about the only thing that would have made Dean let go of his hand. “It’s only wise to take at least some part of this slow.”

He wouldn’t always, he thought. He kinda liked the idea of a big party with all their friends and maybe Sam officiating, even though he’d never stop hearing about it. But everything that had happened had happened in the space of a few days and he just needed… more than that few days to process it.

“Did you want my last name?” Dean had asked.

“Of course I want your last name. I don’t have a last name.” Cas looked thoughtful. “I think we should tell Sam we did it because it was funny.”

Dean kissed him again. “I’m so glad I married you.” It did funny things to his stomach just to say it.

“You didn’t marry me.” Dean rarely got to see Cas’s face like this, split open with a grin so wide his nose scrunches up. “You threw a ring at me.”

“Handed you. I handed you a ring.”

“It felt like throwing.”

“Give it back, you son of a bitch, I’ll do it again-“

“No-“ Cas laughed. “No, don’t you dare. I liked it how it was.”

“What are you giving me shit for, then?”

“You have found,” he said, still smiling wide. “A way for me to say I will give you shit forever.”

Dean swallowed.

“Awesome,” he manages.

“Your coffee’s getting cold and it’s presumably good coffee. Let’s reheat it and get on the road.”

Dean had taken his hand, then, linking their fingers up.

This is back to the present:

Dean and Cas are sitting in the kitchen at the little table. Cas is reading the newspaper while Dean eats his sandwich. Nobody eats faster than Cas, he thinks, not a person in the world, and the thought makes him suddenly, irrationally fond.

“You’re looking at me,” Cas says without looking up from the newspaper.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Just am, I guess.” He gives him what he knows has to be a slightly dopey grin. Cas looks amused and returns his attention to the paper. Dean keeps watching him for another few moments.

“Husband,” he says finally.

“Hm?”

“Husband. That’s you. You’re my husband.”

Cas does look up then with a soft smile. “You’re my husband,” he replies, and kisses him gently. “Would you like to go find a movie to watch?”

“Sure.”

The two of them stand and walk out, hands linked, a quiet joy permeating the air between them, a high key contentment radiating off of them for all to see.

#spn #spn fic #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #ocean's fic #my fic #ocean speaks

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tatestripedsweater · 4 years ago

Text

Perfect Pair

Plot: After doing odd jobs around town to save up for a home, Jimmy finds out from a friend who caught you sneaking back into camp.

Domestic Male Reader x Jimmy?? Maybe saving up enough money and buying a little house and wanting to ask him to move in with them but being too nervous (until someone from the camp says something maybe n thats how jimmy finds out?) - Requested by @darlingkitt

Wordcount: 1,890

Warning: Discrimination (‘Freaks’), Mentions of Homophobia (Not much)

AHS Taglist: @tatesimper @mxlti-fand0m-imaginess @darlingkitt @mrs-march-ahs @kitwalker02 @satanscomplex @mossybank @cleanup-aisle5 - Let me know if you want to be added!

A/N: The plot is slightly different but I still hope you like it!

The mud under your fingernails was worth it, had to keep repeating the words ‘do it for Jimmy’ in your head. The money wasn’t great for these small little garden jobs, and people often gave you dirty looks due to you being associated with the Freak Show. But it had to be done, for Jimmy.

You knew how badly he wanted to leave the show, to have some sort of normality in his life. He worked so hard and for people to shit all over him, to treat him like crap annoyed you to high heaven.

“You nearly done?” The voice of the male homeowner could be heard from behind you, his stare burning into the back of your head. Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you went to speak but soon got interrupted by the same man. “Look at me when you speak freak.”

Biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying something insulting, you stood up from the grass floor to look at him. Mud smudged on your jeans and white vest, sweat forming on your vest from being out in the sun most of the day.

“You know what, screw this.” You threw the garden tools and climbed over the wooden wall, ignoring the profanities and shouting coming from the ignorant male who had you working for him. Part of you felt bad since you knew you needed the money, but there was only so much a person could take.

The sign across the street caught your attention, it almost bringing you to tears. There was a picture of a family: A male and a female along with a small child. ‘Perfect Homes for Perfect Families’ was the slogan. The fact you and Jimmy could never have a family with one another broke your heart. Two males in a romantic and or sexual relationship was known as taboo, something to hide.

The two of you had met when your car had broken down in the middle of nowhere, he was sat on his bike when he found you kicking the wheels of your ride.

“Hey, don’t take it out on the car bud.” Jimmy chuckled as he walked over to you, your car wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon so by the looks of it neither were you. “Let’s have a look under the hood.”

The both of you coughed as soon as he opened the hood of your car, smoke engulfing you both. You along with Jimmy had to step away from the car, it was obvious you weren’t a car person or mechanic. Anyone would’ve noticed the smoke but not you.

“I’m surprised it hasn’t caught on fire yet.” Once the coughing had subsided you looked over at Jimmy as he spoke. You took in his appearance and couldn’t help but feel yourself go bashful; he was beautiful.

“Guess I’m one of the lucky ones” Shrugging at his comment since that is all you could think of saying in the moment. Not many people knew about your sexuality, in fact the only person that knew was yourself. “I’m Y/N.” You noticed the hesitation as you held out your hands, your eyes soon meeting his gloved ones.

“Jimmy, Jimmy Darlin’.” He shook your hand and the leather against your skin forced you to bite your bottom lip, it was still warm. Probably from the engine of Jimmy’s motorcycle.

He had noticed your lip bite but decided against it on bringing it up, Jimmy could tell you were attracted to him, but he wasn’t going to shame you for it. He had been shamed enough for being different.

“Lovely to meet you.”

Walking back into camp, you tried to steer clear of anyone so they wouldn’t ask you any questions of your appearance. You often did these jobs at the dead of night or in the early morning as to not raise any suspicion, but that clearly did not work out for you.

‘’Jesus, what happened to you?’’ Of course, Eve was awake so early in the morning. There would be no way you’d be able to hide from her what you were doing, she was a very observant person. Raising her eyebrow as if to wait for a response, you sighed heavily before speaking.

‘’I’m saving up money, been doing these stupid jobs for assholes.’’ Your voice was quiet, but it was enough for her to hear, she knew how much both you and Jimmy wanted out of the show, so she wasn’t that surprised when you told her this. ‘’I found this house, it’s lovely but it's expensive’’.

‘’Have you told Jimmy?’’ The silence was enough of an answer for Eve. Of course, you have not. He would not like that you were doing jobs like this, especially for something he wanted. ‘’Well, he isn’t going to be happy, remember what happened last time you tried to do this?’’

‘’What do you mean?’’ Jimmy looked at you with a confused expression on his face, he wasn’t used to people doing things for him, so this came as a shock to him. He looked at your appearance, you were covered in mud and some car oil.

‘’I know how much you want to move away from this life. I thought if I did a few jobs around town and earn money it might help.’’ You were expecting him to be happy, so when the frown appeared on Jimmy’s face you felt your heart drop.

‘’No. Stop doing the jobs, you’re going to hurt yourself or end up getting into a fight.’’ He wasn’t wrong. The last time someone had insulted Jimmy, you had punched them square in the face. They deserved it. ‘’We can get through this just stop doing all these jobs, we will figure something out okay?’’

Nodding at Eve, you huffed heavily. You just wanted the best for him, Jimmy deserved all the happiness in the world, but he refused anyone that was willing to give that to him. You debated on if it would be a good idea to walk into the camper van you both shared dressed like this, he would surely figure it out.

“Go on by the lake for a wash, I’ll keep Jimmy busy.’’ Smiling softly, you made your way to the lake with the wet grass under your bare feet. The small campervan that both you and Jimmy shared had a small shower within it, so it was hell trying to wash yourself in there.

Eve had knocked onto the window that was shining through Jimmy’s bedroom as soon as you left, she knew you were doing it for his own good but he had a right to know where you were going and what you were doing. Groaning at the knock on the window, Jimmy tried to shut it out by putting the pillow over his head.

“Go away..” It came out more like a grumble from his lips but it was enough for Eve to hear. With her knocking a lot harder on his window, Jimmy had no choice but to get up from his slumber. “Okay I’m coming, keep your socks on!”

The morning sun heated up Jimmy’s chest as he opened the door, he was only in a pair of boxers so he clearly didn’t care who was on the other side of the door. Eve wasn’t surprised at all with the sight. She had seen worse.

“It’s about Y/N.” The moment that left her lips Jimmy was wide awake. In fact he hasn’t actually seen you all morning, not that he would remember as he had been sound asleep. He was just used to waking up to your presence.

Jimmy had motioned Eve in as he went to go put some clothes on, she couldn’t help but look around the room with a soft smile. There were mundane items around that showed Jimmy didn’t live here alone: Two coffee/tea mugs already set out, your jacket still laying on the chair from the night before, not to mention underwear on the floor as well.

“What about him?” Jimmy asked with a puzzled expression on his face, with him now all dressed and smelling somewhat of the cheap musk cologne he usually wore.

“He’s done it again, doing odd jobs around town.” Jimmy wasn’t at all surprised when she told him, in fact he had a hunch that’s what you were up to again. Jimmy knew you meant well and that you wanted out just as much as him, but he didn’t want you doing all the work. He certainly couldn’t go back to what he used to do. “Y/N is down by the lake.. Take him some fresh clothes, idiot forgot to grab some.”

You were an idiot, but Jimmy’s idiot. Grabbing what you usually wore during hot days like this, he made his way to the lake where you were stood in. You let out a cry when Jimmy threw a bar of soap at you since you had forgotten that aspect as well.

“Ass.” You could only watch your boyfriend undress once you had called him that, he was certainly a god to look at. Even if he didn’t see it himself. “How did you know I was here?”

“Eve..” Of course, you should’ve known the answer already. Jimmy noticed the look on your face as he stepped into the river, his own clothes piled on top of your own. “I’m not mad, I’m not happy. But not mad.”

Before you could even speak, Jimmy kissed you. The both of you knew you’d be safe to show your affections to one another here, it wasn’t like anyone came to these parts anyway. The only people that knew were the members of the camp, they accepted you as their own.

“I need you to promise me when you start new jobs you’ll tell me, okay?” Jimmy needed reassurance that he knew where you were, the last time he didn’t you came home with a black eye and a broken nose. That was only due to a bunch of greasers.

“I promise, but I’m still going to save up until we find the perfect home.” You were stubborn, but of course Jimmy knew that. He wouldn’t have you any other way, just like you wouldn’t have Jimmy any different. “Deal Mr Darling?” You asked in a teasing tone since you knew what that name did to him, especially if you were both alone.

“Deal. Now kiss me before I loose control”

___

“So.. what’d you think?” Looking over at Jimmy, you couldn’t help but smile widely at the home that was now yours. “I mean it has a lovely view, and a spare room for y-our mum.” The both of you had decided to play the brother card, as no one would suspect why you two lived with one another if that’s what you told them.

“It’s perfect.” Jimmy smiled and was careful with what way he touched you, this was due to the man that was showing you around the property. Jimmy had his hands covered with his trademark leather gloves as he went to sign the form. It was really happening.

“It’s all yours!” The man looked at you both with a big smile, which Jimmy and you soon returned. This was the start of something special. You could feel it.

#american horror story #american horror story gifs #ahs #ahs gifs #ahs imagine #american horror story imagine #ahs imagines #jimmy darling

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yamithediaperdork · 3 years ago

Text

It's tradition! (Oc monster story)

The sun was setting and there was a chill in the air as the five new kids to Florence middle school met up with some of the 7th graders.

These five had been transferred to the new school after their old one had been shut down due to small class sizes and since they had joined up in the middle of October, they hadn't been part of the yearly ritual that apparently ALL sixth graders had to go though.

The ritual sounded dumb and made up to all five of the new boys, but they were eager to fit in feeling like outsiders in the much bigger school. Said ritual involved two things:

The first part was spending the night at the old Spencer mansion. All five boys had camped out in the woods over night so they weren't too worried about that. It was the second part that they weren't looking forward to.

See, the only thing the boys would be allowed to wear while spending the night was their shirts, socks, sneakers.... and 2 thick diapers that would be taped and signed at the waist to make sure there was no cheating.

They WERE free of course not to do it, but it was made clear they should expect to be ignored and met with disdain for not doing something that countless boys in the past had done, the girl's of course had their own ritual.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the big babies for the night." Tony, 7th grade leader said, with amusement in his voice. "I was starting to wonder if you were gonna chicken out."

"Like heck we would!" Matt huffed, being the smallest of the group he was used to lots of teasing and didn't handle it well.

"Easy Matt." David, the tallest and strongest of the group said, putting a hand on his cousins shoulder.

With their parents being so close it often fell to David to rein him in, or failing at that keep him from getting his butt kicked.

The other three didn't have much to say, and just stood there waiting to be told what to do next.

It lived in the basement of the mansion though it considered all of it to be it's home, and every year it found itself forced to hide as the insolent humans invaded for one night a year. It only allowed this to happened because it's existence relied on human's not knowing it was here and it made do with stalking those who came into it's home alone.

The 20-30 young males that would waddle around it's home was too many for it to hunt and be sure it could take care of, but as the doors opened and mere five entered the creature laughed to itself. A lesson would be taught, and it would be a dark one indeed. it would finish these boys off as it had others, they would be left for others to find, to scare them from coming to it's home ever again. Sliding along the floor and looking like a dark green slime it oozed it's way into a heating duct.

the hunt was on.

The boys were all too embarrassed to stay close together once inside, and agreed to go off and fine somewhere to sleep for the night on their own. they had a cooler with them they left in the living room of the old place, filled with bottles of milk and some snacks (the 7th graders weren't heartless after all)

Knowing that other boys had spent the night none of them were scared of any dangers and only David and Matt headed off together, David refusing to let the shorty out of his sight.

Mike had never been the most athletic of kids and had a bit of pudge on him, and as he waddled down the hall of the east side on the ground floor he had to keep reaching back and tugging out a diaper wedgie. The boys had been given flashlight since the place hadn't been on the grid for ages and Mike played the light on the walls now wondering if maybe he should of asked to got with David and Matt as he chewed his bottom lip. His brown hair was mating up despite the chill since unknown to the others, he still had to sleep with a night light.

"There's nothing to fear.. it's gonna be ok." Mike was repeating to himself softly as he spotted what looked like a old guest room.

the bed looked okish, though there was some sort of a shiny green sheet on it that seemed to dance in the light of his flashlight.

raising a eyebrow he moved in for a closer look, reaching out with a hand when the so called sheet came to life and lunged at him, wrapping around his face before he could scream and then it was pressing itself in his ears and..and..

The creature smirked, this one had been almost too easy and it found itself hoping the others would put up at least a little bit of more of a fight.

As the now nearly mindless human babbled and drooled, the creature took notice he was already soiling himself and moved on, there was still more prey to be found.

Travis had picked the upper east side and barely bothered with his flashlight. he was using to pitch black room and besides, more starlight shone in though the windows here. super lanky he had to actually keep reaching down to tug his diapers up, almost wishing they had down more tape.

"wouldn't that be just my luck, the stupid thing fall's off on it's own but I'm labeled a cheater." Travis muttered, before going to walk into what looked like a old game room.

he'd only taken a few steps though before shrieking and brushing at his normally dirty blond hair, as it was coated with spider webs he hadn't spotted and he was totally terrified of spiders.

Cursing and swearing, and positive he could feel them in his hair he took off running for the central stair case and was in such a panic he didn't see Lance until he'd almost run into the cue-ball.

"Hey! what's wrong?! I heard you yelling!" the wanna be wrestle asked, though his figure left much to be desired for his chosen field.

"Freaking spider's man! a ton of them! they're all in my hair an-" Travis was ranting and wiping at his hair.

"Dude relax, you got them all." Lance said, shining his light on Travis head then adding. "Sheesh, just spiders? You almost made me wet myself!"

Travis went to say something snarky when he realized that his own diaper was in fact damp and just shut up, hoping Lance wouldn't notice.

"..maybe splitting up wasn't a good idea. come on, let's go find Mike and the three of us can hang out. don't want anymore spider's to attack you." Lance teased and started down the stairs.

Travis just huffed and glared till Lance called back.

"Come on soggy butt!"

"...I hate that guy."

The two boys walked down the way Mike had come and though they called his name he didn't answer, something that had both of them on edge.

they could hear a gentle babbling like a baby would make but in the end they smelled Mike before they saw him.

He was still in the bedroom where unknown to the boys he'd been attacked and was laying on his back, babbling and drooling and trying in vain to get his foot up to his mouth.

"Uhhh Mike? Buddy? Yooou ok?" Travis asked, holding his nose and moving in to check on the little butter ball.

Shining his light on Mike's face, they could see his eyes were glazed over and Travis turned to Lance.

"Do you think he had a magic mushroom or something?"

"Who the hell is gonna sell shrooms to a 11 year old, and where would he get the money?" Lance pointed out."Maybe he just hit his head or something.Come on, help me get him to the living room, we can ask the 7th graders for help."

It watched with interest as two of the prey helped a fallen one, they couldn't of known there was no help for their fallen friend but it followed them, going along the ceiling silently and would let then reach the end of the hall before strike, giving one of them a porting chance to get outside.

With each of them supporting Mike, it was slow going but they were making it, till just as they were reaching the end of the hallways something out of a horror movie dropped down in front of them.

Travis dropped his side of Mike and took off running, any bravo he'd once had ending up in his diaper as he was again wetting himself as he ran as fast as he could, looking for somewhere to hide.

he did happen to look over his shoulder and saw the slime monster wrap itself around Lance's head, ignoring his attempts to peel it off and seemingly toying with him and he stumbled back and forth before slumping to the floor.

getting to a room at the end of the hall, Travis opened it and slammed the door behind him, though before the door had closed he'd heard two things.

the sound of Lance filling his diapers and a monstrous laughing.

The two brain drained ex prey's gurgled and babbled to each other, clearly not bothered but the smell they were making and harmless enough.

The creature thought about what to do next. already two of it's prey was gone, and a third knew of it, and was terrified. It could go after the other two, having already noted where they were and let this one fall into a false sense of security but then again it might make it outside.

choice made it went into the vents once again and headed towards the scared one.

Travis was curled up in the corner of the room, a old library and of course it didn't have any windows in it.rooting around for something to defend himself with he'd grabbed the biggest and heaviest book he could find and waited for the ..whatever the hell that thing was to come and get him.

"This isn't happening. this isn't real. you're just having a nightmare.." Travis mewed to himself, trying to calm his breathing and it was almost working.

till the thing flowed out of a vent in the floor, laughing as it rushed toward him. With nothing to lose Travis launched the book at the monster and it simply passed though it, and made the beast laugh harder.

All he could do was scream as loud as he could before it was on him, draining his brain and making anther permanent diaper filling moron.

"Hey David, did you heard that?" Matt asked, tilting his head as David made them a make shift bed out of blankets and pillows.

"I didn't hear anything and neither did you. Look just be good, stay by me and try not to be a pain in the ass for ONCE in your life." the bigger boy sighed.

though his back was turned to him, David knew that Matt was sticking his tongue out and flipping him off at the moment and wondered if maybe he shouldn't just give the brat a good old fashioned spanking.

the crinkling around his hips reminded him why such a thing would be pointless, and so he just got back to work.

they were in a landry room of sorts and while Matt had complained about not snagging a bedroom David had been correct in assuming they'd find enough clean bedding to fashion a comfy bed for the two.

"I'm borrrrred!" Matt declared, rocking on his heels and semi shaking his diaper butt, out of all them he was the one most used to diapers having been in bed time diapers till half way though grade five.

"well I'm sorry, but they didn't exactly let us bring game boys in." David snapped, finishing up with the bed and standing back to look his work over. "Well, what do yo-"

he had started to ask then yelped and jumped as Matt swatted his diapered ass.

"Ya did real good..heh..did I make you wet?" Matt asked, smirking and winking.

"Keep going brat and they'll never find the body." David growled, then as a wet farting sound was heard he asked with a look of amusement on his face. "..Matt did I just make you crap yourself?!"

"S-Shut up! it's not funny!" Matt huffed even as he squatted down, balling up his fists and pushing.

"Awww such a good widdle diaper dumper." David teased and patted Matt's head then easily caught the punch the brat went to though. "Watch it short stack, or you'll be getting a poopie butt spanking."

"T-That's not fairrrrr!" Matt wailed and plopped on his butt, kicking his feet and having a fit even as he kept pooping.

The creature paused as it came into the landry room, it could of sworn it hadn't attacked either of these two yet but the sounds and smells coming from one of them would beg to differ.

It had been some time since it's had a chance at multiple prey so maybe it had just lost count in it's excitement.

either way there was still one brain left to drain of that sweet sweet intellect and it saw no point in putting it off any longer.

Matt was to busy bawling like a big baby to notice the approach of the monster at first and David was too busy leaning down and taunting the little stinker to notice it at all.

it had come up from a floor drain and was rapidly heading for David and Matt honestly tried to warn him, but all he could do was point and try to sound the words.

"Awww, whats wrong BABY Matt?" David taunted.

"Mo..mo..mo.."

"Awww, are you trying to ask for momm-" David would never get to finish his sentence as the ooze monster wrapped itself around his head and went to work.

the landry room had had it's own grid and so the lights were on, meaning that Matt could watch as parts of the ..the THING reached into his cousins forehead.

shutting his eyes and wetting his diaper Matt rocked back and forth, hearing more farting and the sound of David messing himself and then falling to the bed he'd made.

opening his eyes and thumb in his mouth, and drool trailing down his chin Matt saw the slime monster in front of him, but it seemed ..uncertain.

figuring sucking up was the way to go, Matt tried his 'I'm so cute you can't be mad' smiles and tried to talk, but he was so scared the words came out in a babble much like David's now were.

It seemed satisfied with his efforts however and oozed away, going back down the pipe and leaving Matt alone with his now brainless cousin.

"it..it must of thought it already got me!" Matt said..then let out a nervous laugh.

he was gonna make it out of this, he'd go and get the FUCK out of hear, screw everyone outside watching, and just go and get the cops, the army, the 82nd airborne and have them kill whatever the hell that thing was.

He did toy with trying to get David out with him, but he was clearly a lost cause and likewise the other boys had either already been attacked or it was going after them and that meant he had cover.

was it selfish? Yeah, but he wasn't about to be monster food!

getting to his feet best he could, he took off running as fast as his little legs and filled diapers would let him, going for the exit.

With all five of the boys drained, the creature was content to go to sleep and let them be found in the morning, or it would of been had it not detected the sounds of running

none of the prey should be able to run in their current states and all at once it realized that it had been tricked.

fury filled it and it raced to cut the last of the prey off, erupting from a vent in the entrance hallway and wrapping itself around the last prey's head, taking more from him then it had the others. they would at least be able to rebuild their minds in 10, 20 years but this one! this one had tried to trick it and would be a mindless pants shitter for the rest of his life.

Sliding away back to it's resting place, the creature was pleased with itself.

By the time the boys were found in the morning, no one could really figure out exactly just WHAT had happened. the diaper tradition was of course know to most locals, but no one had ever been found like THIS before.

Doctors ran tests and in the end the best thing anyone could figure out, was all five boys had been scared so badly their minds had just shut down.

No charges were pressed since the boys had willingly gone into the house but after that the tradition had been put to a end, and the door's to the mansion had been nailed shut to keep kids out.

Of course the creature wasn't bothered by the shut doors, it had other ways of getting out and whenever it got hungry enough, it was willing to travel to feed, it's preferred course now being diaper boys.

So take this as a warning to all of you goo goo gaga baby butts, be careful what you wear when you go to sleep..and Sweet dreams~

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