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ithinkilikeit-reactions · 3 years

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Morning sex with The Boyz

The Boyz Masterlist Group Masterlist

Not requested but wanted to write something for myself after my week

Sangyeon:

The gentle touch on your waist had shifted slightly, finding it’s way under your sleep shirt to draw shapes on the skin. Sangyeon knew you were awake, he could tell by the way your breath hitched at his actions. So it only egged him on further.

Sangyeon’s lips found your neck and that was when you melted into his touch. Appreciating the affection so early in the morning, especially as his fingers inched down and under the edge of your underwear. “What’s gotten into you this morning?” You sighed between the kisses being placed on your neck. You could feel him smile against your skin before simply chuckling. His hand now cupping your core teasingly.

“I missed you while I was sleeping.” You could feel his hard on poking your side as he spoke. You couldn’t help but laugh, turning around to fully face him and taking the advantage to slip your own hand into his underwear. Stroking him gently, you watched his eyes flutter shut and he let out a sigh.

“Seems like you missed me too.”

Jacob:

You watched as a soft smile pulled over his lips as you traced them. Truth be told you couldn’t help yourself, Jacob was beautiful in all ways and you loved admiring him. His eyes opened slowly, gracing you with that beautiful expression of his.

“What are you doing?” He asked, pulling you so that you were now comfortably on top of him. “Admiring you.” You said softly, your fingers moving gently from his lips, down to his bare chest. Your body moved down slowly, kissing the exposed skin where ever you could. Down his chest and abs only to look up at him as you reached the waistband of his sweatpants. His eyes were hooded with sleep but that smile was unmissable.

“Admiring me? I should be the one admiring you.” His voice was still very filled with sleep, even as you pulled his sweatpants down to his thighs. Jacob couldn’t take his eyes off of you, not as you took his half hard cock into your mouth and especially not as you looked back up at him.

“Why don’t you turn around so that I can admire you at the same time?”

Younghoon:

Moments like this, they were rare. Moments where you both had enough energy to start the day like this. Younghoon’s face was burried in the crook of your neck and his arms were wrapped around you, hips rocking into yours gently.

“Younghoon-” Your voice was barely a whisper, sleep still having some effect on you even in current events. He picked up his pace, moving his hand to lace his fingers with yours and pin your hands over your head. He looked at you, puppy dog eyes taking in your expression and admiring how pretty you were to him like this.

“You look so pretty.” He whispered, hips nearly stilling completely. He wanted this morning to last because well, moments like I said before moments like this were fleeting. He leaned down and connected your lips as you pulled him even closer with your legs.

“This is a really good morning.”

Hyunjae:

Hyunjae had felt you straddle him as he was inbetween consciousness and sleep. But the comfortable weight of you on him was enough to make him open his eyes. However the sight he saw when he did was enough to make him open his eyes wide.

“Isn’t it a bit too early to be seducing me like this?” He asked and you started laughing, looking down at your appearance. “It’s just your shirt.” You remarked, leaning forward to kiss him. He graciously accepted the kiss, hands coming up to grab your ass roughly. As he did so he dragged the fabric up, pulling it all the way up and off of you. You sat back up after that, allowing him to take a good look at your bare upper half.

Hyunjae sat up too, pressing his chest to yours and kissing you way harsher than before. You took advantage of this, using his shoulders for leverage to grind down on his very fast appearing bulge.

“Nevermind, it’s definitely not too early for this.”

Juyeon:

It started with you opening your eyes to see him staring at you, somehow that managed to escalate into him being seated between your legs, lips wrapped around your core. Juyeon was nothing if not a giver.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, hoping to egg him on because fuck you didn’t want him to stop. “You woke up... energetic.” You choked out, feeling him pull away from you and kiss over your stomach and hips. “I couldn’t help myself, you look so good sleeping.” He mumbled against your skin lazily, only to continue this time with the intention of leaving marks.

The fingers tangled in his hair tugged slightly, signaling that you wanted him to come back up to you. Juyeon slowly made his way back up, kissing where ever he could before connecting your lips and wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I don’t think you understand how good you look at all times.”

Kevin:

Rolling around, Kevin caged you under him with a big smile. “’Morning.” He said cheerfully and you lifted your hands to cup his face. You were still kind of sleepy but seeing his bright and smiling face gave you some energy. “You’re dressed already?” You asked with a pout and he nodded, leaning forward to kiss you.

“Don’t be dressed yet.” You mumbled inbetween kisses, feeling them deepen as his tongue dipped into your mouth. Kevin settled between your legs as you kissed, feeling you start to pull his shirt off. He pulled away to throw it on the ground. “I put all this effort into being dressed whenever you woke up.” He teased, moving to kiss over your neck.

“Too bad.” You sighed, feeling his hand snake down and pull your underwear to the side slightly. He teased you with his fingers, taking in every little sigh and moan that escaped you. Kevin lifted his head again, kissing you a little harder than before and picking up the pace with his fingers.

“What am I supposed to do with you? If you’re so frisky so early in the morning.”

New/Chanhee:

It was a crime to wake Chanhee up before the alarm, truly. But you had found a way that seemed to be effective and didn’t get a lecture thrown your way. (of course this was something you had discussed and he was okay with it) Your hand snaked around his waist, your face burrying into his back as you did so.

Gently, your hand snuck under the waist band of his boxers and your wrapped your hand around his half hard cock. You could hear a choked moan, which caught you off guard as you thought he was asleep and you let out a laugh into his back.

“Awake after all?”You asked, your tone incredibly teasing. Chanhee attempted to scoff, only to turn into a moan as your pace picked up. But the best thing he could thing to do was reach back, fingers grazing over your core through your underwear. The action left you stunted, your own hand halting as he rubbed you through the fabric.

“You have an attitude for it being so early.”

Q/Changmin:

Your fingers carded through his hair as he rested his head on your chest. Slow mornings were nice and he loved the special treatment. But he loved the warm skin of your chest more and he found himself, gently sucking marks into the bare skin. Unbuttoning your sleep shirt more to reveal more skin, he kissed over the top of your stomach.

His nose brushed against your skin, making you giggle a bit and tug his hair slightly. “What are you doing? i thought we were cuddling?” You asked, the tone of your voice joking as he kissed down your stomach. “Is that not what this is?” He smiled at you widely, teasingly almost.

You shook your head with a smile and he moved his hands to pull your shirt off completely. He went to kiss your skin again only for you to stop him. “If my clothes are coming off, yours are too.” You said, pulling his shirt off of him. Changmin adored the feeling of his skin on yours, especially like this.

“I mean, if that’s really what you want all of my clothes can come off.”

Haknyeon:

He was absolutely obsessed with kissing all over your face, this was no exception. Not even when his hoodie was bunched up at your waist and your underwear was somewhere discarded in his room. No, no, definitely no exceptions.

Haknyeon loved morning sex, it was lazy and gentle and he could show you just how much he loved you. “I love you like this.” He mumbled, rolling his hips lazily into yours and listening to your whimpers. He wrapped your legs around his waist and attached his lips to yours.

“I love you so much.” You mumbled against his lips, trying to concentrate on your words but it was harder than it seemed. Feeling yourself getting close, you tightened your grip on him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“I love you too, so so much.”

Sunwoo:

Something about the simple act of laying in bed with you made Sunwoo feel some type of way. The feeling of your back side pressing into his front as you slept, it turned him on to no end. But he wasn’t good at letting you know that, well verbally at least.

His body did a great job of notifying you of these things, especially as you were both slowly waking up. His hard on was very prominently poking your butt and you were very aware of it. Stretching out, you made sure to press against him a little harder to see his response. His hands came down, gripping your hips to hold you there before placing his lips by your ear.

“Keep doing that, please.” He asked, bucking his hips to press against your ass harder. “You always get shy when you get horny in the morning.” You remarked, moving to grab his hand. You guided it down the front of your sleep shorts, feeling a wave of confidence because of the effect you had on him. “Next time just take initiative.” You whispered, trying to hold back a whimper as his fingers ghosted over your core.

“Carefull what you wish for.”

Eric:

Something about you sleeping in his shirt had sparked something in him. So much so he couldn’t really help himself but pull you on top of him the second you were awake. His hands dragging over your thighs as you made out, squeezing them every now and then.

Your hands pressed down on his chest, giving you a bit of leverage as your ground down on him. Feeling his bulge through his sweatpants as you pulled your lips away from his to get some air. “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, feeling completely fucked out by you just kissing him and grinding on him.

You couldnt help but laugh a bit, rolling your hips again only for him to grip your thighs harshly. The action made you fall forward once more, coming face to face with him as Eric became more stern with you.

“If we’re gonna do this, let’s take the clothes off.”

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buckys-black-dress · 3 years

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see through

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

a/n: i dont have much to say other than that it's 1 am and i needed to get this out of my system. chapter 4 of play the game is underway, i promise. also, there will be a pov switch in this fic!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. = POV change!

wc: 4.1k words

[ neighbor!bucky barnes x fem!reader ]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Every Friday night, without fail, you saw the light filter into your apartment.

Notice how you said night?

Yeah, it was almost two in the morning, by the way.

And why was there light coming through the chiffon curtains you had hanging on the rod above your window?

(Great choice on your part, by the way.)

Well, because of your neighbor.

You've seen him a few times, actually. Usually on the street outside your buildings, or just out and about. Never spoke to him, though. He was quiet, kept to himself. Didn't seem very friendly or willing to exchange a greeting if he ever saw you.

But you never took it personally. Maybe he was having a bad day. Every time you saw him.

But that's besides the point. The point right now is that you can see the lights blaring in your room. From the apartment across from yours.

Should it even be possible for light to travel that far? I mean, we don't even live in the same building. You think to yourself as you watch the colors dance in the dark.

You debate getting up and yelling out your window to tell him to shut that shit off or to invest in some blackout curtains. You were tired of sacrificing your sleep every week.

But then you decided against it, because you quite frankly could not be bothered to get up from the warmth of your bed. You'd tough it out for the night, but the next time you saw him, you'd have a few words for him.

The next morning, it was almost ten when you woke up. You didn't have your shift at the coffee shop you worked at until three, so you took your time in making your way out of bed.

You noticed the curtains of your neighbor's apartment were still open, but you could see his figure moving across the room. He was clearly on the phone with someone, and he didn't look too happy. You wondered what could have him so angry at such an early time of the morning. He seemed like a person who could use someone to talk to, someone who he could vent to.

But before you let your thoughts get ahead of you, you turn away from the window, heading back into your kitchen to eat breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead of you.

"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" You ask as brightly as you can muster at the moment. You were halfway through your shift, another three hours until close.

"Uh, just a large black coffee." The gruff voice says, and it takes you a second until you look up and look closely.

It was him.

"O-okay, that'll be $3.27." You say, and he hands you a five dollar note before grumbling,

"Keep the change."

"Thanks, and your name?"

He gives you a look that's asking, 'what the fuck do you need my name for?'

"For the order." You try and salvage your dignity, because it feels like the stare shrunk you to a speck of dust.

"James."

That's all he all but growls before turning back to find a seat.

As your coworker takes over the cash register, you grab the biggest cup and fill it with his desired coffee.

You try to not think about it too much, but the anxiety you feel rising up inside you and just calling his name to give him his coffee feels absolutely ridiculous.

"Are you just gonna stare at the cup or give it to the customer?" The voice of your coworker, Jenna, rings in your ears and you look up at her, snapping out of the trance you were in.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it today, I guess."

"Everything alright?" She asks, and you nod.

"I'm fine, it's just... that's my neighbor." You nod your head towards where James is sat, in the corner by the window as he watches the raindrops run down the expanse of the glass.

"The one who doesn't let you sleep?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he'd take it too kindly if I tell him about that. He seems to have a lot on his own plate anyways," You explain, and she just nods.

"Well, that sucks, but you still need ta' give the guy his coffee." Jenna smiles and walks back to what she was doing before.

You gently slide out from your spot behind the counter and walk to his table.

"Here's your coffee, James. Enjoy, and- uh, let me know if you'd like anything else." You tell him while placing the steaming cup in front of him.

He murmurs a thank you that you barely catch, but you don't quite have the time to sit and wait for more of a reaction.

For the next several hours, James sits right where he was. He doesn't do anything in particular, either. He just watches outside, as the rain continues to pelt down on New York City, and as people come and go from where they were.

Eventually, about an hour left until close, you offer another cup of coffee.

"Do you want a refill? On the house." You ask gently, waiting to see if you'll get brushed off again.

"Uh... are you allowed to do stuff like that?" He asks, and you're a bit taken aback at the sudden concern.

"I don't think you should worry yourself too much, James. Free coffee's free coffee." You smile lightly, and grab the cup before filling it up without his confirmation. You could tell he wanted to say yes but didn't want to seem rude.

"You didn't have to..." He grumbles, and you simply shake your head.

"I know, but you've been here a while, and what kind of employee would I be if I let a customer sit here without any sustenance?" Your lips ply into a tiny smirk, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

He seems so guarded, defensive. Like any moment, he's ready to run if need be, you inspect to yourself.

"You'd just be a regular employee, Y/N." He says, but the way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine; and you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.

You unconsciously look down at your name tag, pinned to your black apron that's branded with the café's logo.

"Well, I felt like being nice. I hope you can deal." Your voice comes out short, but he knows you mean no harm.

As you walk back to the counter, you see a small smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't allow it to manifest on his face. You take that as a small victory for your last hour of work.

(bucky's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The girl who works at this café is annoying.

But she's got a nice smile. And she's nice to me, Bucky thinks to himself.

He sips on the new coffee you'd just poured for him, without his consent, he thinks bitterly.

But it was a nice gesture.

Why can't you just take a nice gesture?

Because your brain's been scrambled eggs for 70 years. You don't know what to think about anything these days.

He watches you fiddle with the espresso maker, cleaning it with a rag, which you then dip into a bucket.

You look extremely familiar to him, but he can't exactly pin where he's seen you before.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen you, but for a moment, he comes up with nothing.

Ever since he's been living back in the real world, he hasn't been outside too much.

He goes on the occasional walk, or goes to the tower to see Steve and Sam.

But other than that, he spends a lot of time in his Brooklyn apartment. He watches movies that Steve suggests, or he invites Steve and Sam over to have beer and watch TV with him.

He hates how lonely it gets, though.

Bucky wishes that he had someone.

Someone who could understand.

And don't get him wrong, he loves Sam and Steve. They fill in the gaps in his days, and they make them better.

Sometimes, thinking about having something to do that day is what makes it. He likes having something to do, something to plan for for when his friends come over.

But it feels like a teeny, tiny part of his life is missing. A person shaped-hole in his heart.

But Bucky doesn't spend too long thinking about it, or it'll send him into a spiral about failure and how he needs to 'push himself to get out there more.'

Or that's what his therapist says.

"Hey, we're about to close, and we usually throw the pastries out at the end of the day. Do you wanna take these home, by any chance?" Your voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of the impending slippery slope of his lack of love life.

He hesitates to answer for a second, looking at the brown paper bag pinched between your fingers.

Bucky can tell you were nervous when you spoke to him. He knew he made you uneasy, and it killed him inside.

He hated that. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with someone. But everyone seems to know who he is.

Who he was.

"Uh, what is it?" He croaks, unsure of what to say at your gesture.

"It's a few cookies and a chocolate croissant."

"Sure, I'll take 'em." Bucky simply answers, watching as you hand the bag over with a soft smile and watches you walk back.

You sweep up the floor and put up all the chairs, except for the one Bucky's sitting on. You leave his table alone, and bid farewell to your coworker who was scheduled to close with you.

Bucky doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he gets up after he sees you walk out the door, and follows you home.

Damn, if you like a girl, you usually ask for her number or somethin'. Not follow her home to make sure she's safe, you idiot. Bucky's inner voice speaks and sometimes, he wishes it would just shut up because he knows he has no game nowadays, but this is all he knows to do.

He realizes the way you're walking is familiar, and not at all of the way he was supposed to be going. That made him feel a little better, less like a creep. He's about half a block behind you, and when you turn onto the same street he lives on, he's really confused.

Did you know he was behind you? Are you trying to play a trick on him?

But before Bucky can speak up or say something, you walk right past his building, and into the one right next to it.

All of a sudden, images of you right on the street in front of your buildings flash through his head. He's seen you because you're his neighbor. Bucky's seen you right there, getting ready to start your run through the neighborhood, or probably on your way to work, now that he's seen where you work.

But he feels like there's somewhere else he's seen you; somewhere familiar.

He shakes his head, wondering why he's so caught up in you. He thought you were beautiful, but he feels a pull to you that he's never felt with anyone else before.

Bucky's hands move to unlock his door, sliding the key in and twisting the lock open.

He enters, staring at his dark apartment. It's moments like this, when he spends a long day alone, that he wishes there was someone.

Someone to come home to, to hug, to kiss, to share dinner with.

Some to fall asleep with at night. Someone to keep the terrors of the dark away.

But there was no one.

And then his mind thought back to you. Your hair, your face, your warm hands that touched his while you passed him the brown paper bag of treats.

Bucky wishes he was man enough to ask you out. Not even that, just to talk to you. Have a normal conversation, to get to know you.

But that wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon, he thinks.

For now, he focuses on taking things one at a time. And right now, all he wanted was a nice, warm shower and to get at least three hours of sleep tonight.

He's in his room, forgoing the lights for now, before he looks out his window.

For a moment, he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.

There's absolutely no way that you are standing right there, right outside his window.

Well, in your own apartment, of course.

And there's absolutely no way in hell that Bucky is watching you undress right now.

As soon as you pull off your top, Bucky turns around before he could get more than a peek of your black lace bra, and he feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.

He can't tell if it's shame, guilt, or arousal.

(y/n's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn't stop thinking about James all day.

After yesterday, you wondered why you couldn't shake this feeling about him.

He'd made it quite clear that he's not a people person. Or maybe he just wasn't a you person.

But again, you tried to not take things too personally these days.

Sometimes, you wondered, though, as you looked through your bedroom window to his some nights.

You imagined what it would be like, watching one of those movies with him at night. Making dinner with him. Having coffee in the mornings before work, wondering what he did for a living.

You chastise yourself for your thoughts, thinking that you were crazy for these ideas you were coming up with out of nowhere.

As you pull off your clothes to get ready for bed, you feel the same emptiness fill your heart when your head hits the pillow, and another day has gone by where you're all alone.

The next day, your shift was at ten in the morning so you were up early.

You took your time in rolling out of bed. The warmth of your duvet was holding you down, and you couldn't help take a peek out your window.

You see that the room facing yours is finally housing a body in the bed. In all the time you'd been living across him, you've only seen him on the floor.

You feel a warm flutter at that. Whatever reason led him to actually sleep in the bed last night was, you hope you played a role in it.

You make your way to the café, and although walking in the rain wasn't ideal, you made it, somehow.

You clock in and head to the register, ready to take the millions of orders that come in through the day.

"Hi- oh! Welcome back. What can I get you?" Your tone of voice made it clear you were surprised, but was trying to not let it show.

"Uhm, just the same as yesterday, and... Can I get a chocolate croissant?" Bucky's gruff voice tells you.

You ring him up, wondering if you should say something about him being your neighbor. Although, he didn't seem too keen on looking you in the eye right now, and you wonder if you did something to make him uncomfortable yet again.

He seems to have this issue quite often.

Little do you know, this time, it isn't because of you or anything you did.

Well, nothing you did on purpose.

Nothing you were aware of at the time.

Anyways, you tell James to go take a seat and that you'd be right out with his order.

"Here you go, James," you place the plate and mug on the table, and this time, when you hear him say something, you turn around with furrowed brows.

"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said." You apologize, waiting for him to repeat himself.

"I- nevermind, it was stupid anyways. You probably have to get back to work." He mumbles while looking back down at his pastry.

"James, whatever it is, you can tell me." You offer with a kind smile. "I can come sit with you during my break, if you don't mind?" A hopeful smile crosses your face.

"Uh, I- yes, yeah, that would be nice." He struggles for a moment, but finally nods his head in confirmation along with his words.

"Alright, James. I get off in an hour for my break." You simply tell him with a soft grin, and you can practically feel his eyes burning into you as you walk away.

The blush creeping up your cheeks also stays there until the remainder of your shift.

As you plop in the chair across from James, you inspect him for a moment.

He was attractive, you'll admit.

Okay, he was more than attractive.

"So, James, where are you from?" You ask, your own cup of coffee in front of you on the table.

"Well, I'm Brooklyn born 'nd raised. Never was a time I didn't live here. You?" His lip twitches, looking out the window fondly.

"That's nice. I moved here when I was nine, so I guess I've been here a while. But no matter where I go, there's nowhere like home." You smile.

"There really isn't, huh? This place is irreplaceable." He gives you a crack of another smile, and you find yourself yearning for more from him. Just a tooth, something.

"Well, do you live around here?" You ask, deciding to play coy. You wanted to see what he'd say.

"Uh, yeah, actually. Over on DeKalb and Clinton." He clears his throat, the hint of a smile on his face melting right off.

"Huh, that's so funny. I live on those streets too." You grin, waiting to see his reaction.

"O-Oh really?" James doesn't really know what to say without giving away that he knows where you fucking live.

"Yeah, isn't that funny? Which building?" You're pressing, and you know he knows, but you're having your fun right now.

"T-the uhm... I live in the Washington." He's now making zero eye contact with you, and you're close to breaking.

"What a coincidence! I live in the Oakley!" You're in a fit of giggles when his face drops, you just can't help it anymore.

"James, can I tell you something?" You ask in a coquettish manner.

"Yeah, I suppose you'll tell me even if I say no." He gives a tight smile as a joke.

"I don't wanna sound like a creep, but I knew you lived in the Washington."

"Oh," James releases a breath of relief, "thank God. I knew you lived in the Oakley, but I didn't wanna sound like a stalker either." He says.

You laugh, sliding a hand on top of his resting on the table.

"Y'know, you do this really annoying thing where you leave your movies running on full brightness on your TV, and I can see it through my windows at night." You laugh at the incredulity of the situation.

"Oh... I never even thought of that. I'm sorry, Y/N." He looks genuinely remorseful, and now you feel bad for any bad thought you've had about the man that lives across from you.

"It's alright. No big deal." Your smile does a good job of convincing Bucky that you truly weren't bothered by his actions, but he still felt bad.

"Y'know, maybe I could make it up to you?" He asks, and you feel a blush moving up your chest. "Like, maybe over dinner?" His voice is timid, you can tell by the way he tilts his head down while speaking.

"James," you slide your hand into his this time, your smaller one resting in his large metal one. "I'd love to go out with you sometime."

Before he could react, you stood up from the chair.

"My break's over, but I get off at 3." You lean down and pull a pen from your apron, scribbling your number onto a napkin. "Here."

You walk away before he could say anything, but there's something about him this time that you notice.

He's blushing, too. And he's smiling. A bright, white, blinding smile.

You think of that smile throughout your whole shift, until you see he's still waiting for you when it's time to go.

"So, do you like Chinese or Italian better?" He asks with a crooked smile.

bonus scene:

six months later

You and Bucky are laid across your bed, the TV blaring a movie that neither of you are paying attention to. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg thrown over both of his, and his hand running through your hair.

"You wanna know somethin' doll?" Bucky asks, and you feel his chest rumble under your head.

"Yeah, everything okay?" You ask while leaning up on your elbow to get a good look at him, trying to gauge his mood.

"Everything's okay, just remembered something." He laughs, his hand moving to hold your jaw in it. You shivered at the touch, but smiled fondly at the action.

"When I first saw you at the coffee shop, that first day when you gave the free coffee and pastries... I followed you home."

Your brows furrow and it's clear that you were confused as to why.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and then it turned out that you lived right next to me. So I went up to my apartment and wondered what I'd done right in a past life to have you live right next to me, and then I saw you lived right across from me." His face was tipped upwards, like he was replaying that night in his head.

"You followed me home just to make sure I was safe?" You asked in disbelief that he did something so nice for you, when at the time you thought he hated you.

"Of course, sweetheart. It was dark out and there 're some real jerks out there, y'know." One corner of his mouth lifts up in a soft smirk. "Didn't want anything to happen to ya."

You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating his gesture.

"I really thought you didn't like me back then, so this is a nice little secret you've been hiding from me." You giggle when he pulls you back in for a real kiss.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could'a hated you if I tried, baby. You're too sweet. And at the time, I was still getting used to being out in the open without being a national security threat." You both laugh lightly, dropping your head down.

A moment passes where you bask in his words, letting them soak in. And then a thought hits you, and you can't help but become more curious. Now you need to know the answer.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, hon." Now Bucky's brows are pulled together, and you reach up and smooth out the wrinkle with your thumb.

"Did you ever... see me doing anything in here? Like, I usually keep the curtains open, and even if they're closed, they're pretty see-through..." You trail off, giving him time to craft his response.

You have a feeling you know the answer, considering how he turns red like a tomato in an instant as words leave your lips.

"I... there was this one time, but I swear, I wasn't trying to peep on you or anything, it was the same day I followed you and I just so happened to look into your window, and you were getting undressed, but I swear, I turned away as soon as I saw what you were doing, baby-" He was rambling, trying to save himself from sounding like a complete creep after all he's just told you.

"Did you like it?" You ask, innocently, but he knew what you were trying to do.

"I-I- You were getting undressed, sweetheart, of course I liked it... are you kidding me?" Bucky's grasping for the words, trying to make you understand.

"Well... we could always recreate it, but maybe in the same apartment this time?" You cock your head to the side, your doe eyes stirring a feeling in his abdomen.

"I think that's an excellent idea, honey." Bucky's hands grasp your waist as you slide on top of his lap. "After all, I am a hands on learner."

fin. i hope you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes smut #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes reader insert #neighbor!bucky #bucky barnes au

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT Vol.5 Sakamaki Kanato [TRACK 2]

Original title: すれ違う心

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 5 Sakamaki Kanato

Audio: Here (Huge thank you to @filthyhelplessworld for providing the audio!)

Seiyuu: Kaji Yuki

Translator’s note: The MC’s health is obviously getting worse and I really fear for her with a boyfriend whose best solution is to completely disregard her concerns and lock her up in the underground dungeon. I’m still betting that all of this karma will come and bite Kanato in the ass though. I’m just waiting for the angsty stuff to kick in because he needs a taste of reality.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 2: Hearts Growing Apart

You are in the kitchen making sweets.

*Thud*

*Ping ping*

Kanato enters the kitchen.

“Hm...I have no complaints about the scent. Is this the sponge for the cake?”

You nod.

“Your hands have stopped moving. Please continue.”

You continue beating the egg whites in a bowl.

[00:24] “Fufu...Cut the cookies into bear shapes, okay? I want two kinds, both chewy and crispy. I grow tired if there’s no variety in the texture after all. ...Ah, I’d like my pudding on the firmer side with bittersweet caramel sauce on top, okay? I’m especially picky when it comes to chocolate. The cacaー”

Your movements stop again as you grow dizzy.

“...? What’s wrong? Now’s not the time to rest. I want to eat these soon so stop dawdlーー”

You nearly collapse, knocking over the bowl with cream in the process.

*THUD*

[00:56] “...! Ah!! The cream…!!”

*Rustle*

“Tsk...It turned out so well too...This all happened because you were spacing out…!”

You explain.

[01:13] “Hah…! You’re at it again with the sick act? Whenever things don’t go your way, you always blame it on feeling unwell! I bet you’re feeling faint because you let one of the other guys suck your blood, am I wrong!? Was it...Reiji again, perhaps? Even though you promised you would stay away from him!”

“SHUT UP!!”

*Thud*

[01:39] “I thought you were actually being a good girl and making the sweets I asked for but in the end, this is what I get! After you promised me several times too...Honestly...I’m so through with you!!”

*Rustle rustle*

“Haah…”

Kanato starts dragging you along.

“You want to know where we’re going? Oh no, you’re not going anywhere from here on out.”

*TIMESKIP*

*Cling cling*

*Rustle*

[02:23] “No, I won’t stop. Someone like you deserves no better than to be locked up inside the underground dungeon like this.”

You protest.

“Haah...You only have yourself to blame. For breaking our promise and letting someone else suck your blood.”

You deny it.

“SHUT UP! How many times are you going to lie to me? PLEASE DON’T MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME BY ASSUMING I’D BELIEVE YOUR WORDS OF DENIAL!”

You beg.

[02:58] “...If you want me to listen to the whole story, then promise me you will never tell a lie again.”

You promise.

“Haah...Okay then. I suppose I wouldn’t mind listening a little.”

You start explaining.

“...Your health actually has been in poor condition, you say? You sure are insistent about that part.”

You continue talking.

[03:28] “So? ‘At this rate you will ーー’ What? You’re not going to tell me you’ll die, right?”

You remain quiet.

“Kuh. CUT IT OUーー”

You nod.

“Huh? ...Say, did you...perhaps nod just now? Do you truly believe you will die if things continue down this path?”

You nod again.

“That...doesn’t make sense.”

You tell him it’s the truth.

[04:14] “You’re just joking when you say you might not have much time left, right?”

You shake your head.

“You want me to mentally prepare myself for the worst…? Ridiculous...I mean, there’s just no way you would die, right!?”

You try to make him face reality.

“SHUT UP!!”

You speak up again.

“SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! YOU JUST CAN’T DIE!! ...Stay here until I give you permission to leave!”

Kanato stomps away.

“Kuh…!”

*Thud*

*TIMESKIP*

[04:59] “Nn...Here. You should try one of the cookies as well. You haven’t been eating at all this whole time, have you?”

You politely refuse.

“Even if you’re lacking an appetite, you should be able to at least eat the things I bring you, no?”

You hesitantly grab a cookie.

[05:26] “Mmh. Better. Umー Where were we again…? Ah, right! I remember now! Honestly, I was so surprised to find out there was another human out there who has blood as sweet as yours! Well, I just so happened to cross paths with her on my way home from school, of course. ...You probably shouldn’t give yourself too much credit for having special blood. If you continue to be disobedient, you might just find yourself thrown aside by me at some pointーー Just kidding. Fufufu…”

You remain quiet.

[06:19] “Hey? Are you listening? You didn't nod off while I was talking, did you?”

You shake your head.

“Good. You’ve been quiet this whole time though. You should say something as well. Anything will do. What has been on your mind today, or what you would like to do if I were to free you from down here, for example.”

You tell him you want to see the outside world.

[06:56] “Hmph. What will you gain from watching the scenery outside? Your eyes should only ever be on me.”

You go silent again.

“Hah! Ridiculous! I’m here trying my best to strike up a conversation, yet you have nothing else to tell me?”

You bring up your health.

[07:24] “Aah...But I’ve heard enough about that. I’m sick and tired of hearing you say how you’ll ‘die’ or whatever…”

You try and reason with him.

“STOP! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! ...Haah. We were having such a lovely chat as well, but you completely ruined it.”

Kanato gets up.

“My mood has been ruined. I will excuse myself for today.”

He leaves.

*Thud*

[08:01] ( You told me I was doing the wrong thing time after time. Trying to convince me that locking you up in that dim lit underground dungeon would only speed up the process and lead to an early death. You would even burst out into tears, worried about what would happen to me once I’m left behind.

[08:19] Every time, I would grow upset and refuse to listen to you, covering my ears while simply turning a blind eye to everything, as I kept you imprisoned down there. Because I truly believed that if I kept at it long enough, you would eventually give in and stop saying that you were dying.

[08:42] ...I wonder why I didn’t just accept your words back then? Why didn’t I try and do something about the abnormal condition of your heart, even though I had taken notice of it? I never thought I would one day ask myself those questions over and over again. )

*TIMESKIP*

Kanato approaches you in the dungeon.

[09:10] “You seem rather out of it today. Do you have any idea how much time has passed since you were brought here?”

You shake your head.

“I suppose you don’t? ーー Or perhaps…”

*Cling*

“I guess you no longer care, do you? After all, right now the only thing which matters to you, is the person standing in front of you, right? Correct?”

You nod.

[09:50] “Fufu. You’ve become such a good girl. Well then, come here. I will let you embrace me as your reward.”

You move closer and wrap your arms around him.

*Cling cling*

[10:12] “...Haah...We will be together forever, okay? Please don’t say you’ll die ever again. ...You’re not going anywhere. You can’t even run. It’ll be just the two of us for eternity. I’m sure you feel the same way right now?”

You reluctantly nod.

[10:50] “...What was that just now? It appeared to me that you only nodded because you had no other choice. I can tell you’re hiding how you truly feel. ...Tell me loud and clear. How do you feel?”

You keep quiet.

“Haha...Hahaha...So you really can’t let go of the possibility that you’ll die one day, no matter how many times I tell you that we’ll be together forever, can you? ...Cut it out alreaーー”

You speak up.

[11:31] “...’But’, what?”

You tell him he will be okay and can simply find another human to feed off of.

“Did you just...tell me that I’ll be okay even if you die, because there’s plenty of replacements for you out there?”

You nod.

[11:50] “So...That’s all what matters? No way...What makes you believe you have the right to decide that on your own? Who told you to think that way!? Well...I won’t deny that I discovered someone with sweet blood in town the other day, but you’re still on a whole different level! ...ABOVE ALL!!”

*Cling*

[12:19] “Didn’t I tell you just now? That you won’t go anywhere, nor can you run away, so the two of us will be together forever…! Tsk...Yet...Kuh...Yet you have the nerve to…!! ...Honestly...I’ve had enough of this.”

You try to comfort him.

“Hah! ...Stay away from me.”

He walks away.

[12:57] “I’m sick of talking to you. Or rather, I suppose you could say that my love for you has faded.”

*Cling*

“That’s the key to those chains. From today onwards, you’re a free woman. I no longer care about you. ーー Just like you said, there’s plenty of people who can replace you out there. ...Farewell.”

Kanato leaves.

[13:38] “...Kuh!! She’ll die? Ridiculous! There’s just no way I would be left behind on my own. Yet she keeps on saying that she’ll die and to make matters worse, even has the nerve to tell me I could simply replace her! Where on earth did she get that ludicrous idea from!? ...I should just push her away for a bit. I’ll make her regret her words! Until she lets go of those ridiculous thoughts!”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kanato sakamaki #diabolik lovers daylight #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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renaerys · 3 years

Text

PPG One-Shot: Spelling Bee (Brick/Blossom)

Happy birthday to @genovah! She is always inspiring me to come up with more PPG content, a true hero. I’m back with another entry in the ongoing Shooketh, Not Stirred high school AU Reds series for your entertainment. As always, this can be read alone, but it happens in the same universe as part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5. This is also posted on my AO3.

Summary: Brick and Blossom hunker down in the library to study for the upcoming regional spelling bee.

***Reblogs are extremely appreciated, since this probably won’t show up in the tags due to cursing. Thank you! <3

xxx

In fairness, Brick had come to the library during his free period with the pure intention to learn. And he was certainly learning something. But somewhere between sliding into his seat opposite Blossom and watching her lips move around insouciant as if it were a strawberry slathered in ganache, his purity was torn from his weak, teenage boy fingers and there was absolutely no going back.

“Brick, are you listening to me?” She touched his hand across the table.

“Yup.”

“Did you need me to repeat the word?”

“Yup.”

“In-SOO-see-uhnt.” She sounded it out slowly, and hand to god, that dominating SOO went straight to his cock.

This, of course, was fine.

“Origin?” he asked.

She twirled her hair around her finger and puckered her lips. “French.”

Fuck.

“I…”

Blossom mistook his increasingly horny stupor for plain old stupor and sighed. “Are you even trying? Because if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were completely fine with Darla Dimpleton going to regionals instead of one of us.”

“I am not fine with that.”

Darla Dimpleton was an unassuming, unthreatening nobody with the personality of plain oatmeal. Brick would never have even bothered to learn her name had she not committed the cardinal sin of scoring so much extra credit while everyone else was busy having lives that she stole the number one GPA right from under him. Which meant she stole it from under Blossom too. Which meant Brick was no longer a respectable silver medal to Blossom’s gold, but currently ranked third and therefor merely happy to be on the podium at all (and for the record, no one has ever been happy merely to be on the podium, just like no one has ever been happy winning Most Improved: you sucked, and now you suck a little less. Except this time, you actually suck more because Darla fucking Dimpleton decided to Quaker Oats her way to the top of this rat race that doesn’t actually matter, but it’s the principle of the thing, i.e., the only thing that matters.).

All of this to say, Darla Dimpleton was the Worst™ and she was one hundred percent going down.

“Are you sure? Because you’re being awfully cavalier about this. Some might even call you insouciant.”

It was a testament to Brick’s powerful fondness for winning and being seen doing it that he spelled insouciant in one Darla Dimpleton-shaped cock blocking breath.

Blossom smiled like she knew something. “Much better.”

Yeah, she knows a lot of things.

The problem with dating, Brick was convinced, was that suddenly the mundane became extraordinary. Everyday experiences that he had previously taken for granted—flying around Townsville, enjoying a cup of coffee, thwarting his sometimes murderous demonic overlord from distributing incriminating polaroids, that sort of thing—were suddenly exciting, thrilling even. Because now he got to do those things with Blossom, and Blossom was cool in a smarmy, elitist sort of way that both softened his heart and hardened his dick all at the same time, and that was kind of A Lot to deal with at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday.

“All right, do me,” Blossom said, and Brick coughed so badly his aforementioned weak, teenage boy fingers shook to stifle himself.

Mercy, he thought, probably. But all his blood was rushing south and it was going to take a supernatural willpower to get through these words so that one of them could beat the upstart porridge peasant to this year’s regional spelling bee.

“You’re the boss,” he said, because it was true, and also because he liked the way she looked at him when he said it. Like he was now the ganache-coated strawberry in this overextended metaphor that he was too laden with Homeric concupiscence being in her general proximity to unpack.

Concupiscence, there’s a ten dollar word for you, you horny genius.

He made a mental note to brag to Blossom about this later.

“Okay, let’s see…” Brick made a show of organizing the flashcards so that she wouldn’t see him discreetly re-situate his pants under the table. “Your word is cymotrichous.”

Blossom tapped her lips, and Brick found himself sympathizing with the Puritans in their absolute befuddlement over the libidinous effect of women having lips. Witchcraft, surely. “Could you use it in a sentence for me?”

Compelled entirely by black magic and therefor not responsible for his imminently questionable choices, Brick obliged her with: “Thinking about how I’d rather run my fingers through your cymotrichous hair for the rest of free period instead of sit here spelling words no one’s ever heard of.”

Blossom, who he was dead certain was extremely thirsty for him and had been for years long before they ever reconciled their rivalry, leaned over the desk separating them. Her hair, long and loose and indeed quite wavy today, was tempting. “Brick, are you flirting with me?”

It was a well-known fact of being a Weak-Fingered, Teenage Boy that one must never reveal such weakness, especially not in front of one’s girlfriend. On the other hand, co-opting said weakness and rebranding it as the suave truth was galaxy brain levels of flirting. And Brick, as has already been established, was a horny genius. “Yup.” He leaned in to meet her, and he twirled her hair between his fingers because they were weak for her, indeed. “How am I doing?”

Blossom, too determined to let her thirst deter her from her goal of sweet, academic retribution and bragging rights, tapped a finger to his lips. “Great. But we have so many words to spell, and only thirty minutes left to do them all. So get shuffling, stud.”

Well, he could work with that. One thing that made his relationship with Blossom work very well was their insatiable competitiveness. Whether they were whaling on each other over an empty parking lot, debating the efficacy of post-its as a note-taking device, or combining their powers to Captain Planet a cornmeal know-it-all back down the leaderboard where she belonged, they were relentless glory chasers. And the greater the challenge, the more they enjoyed the experience and each other.

Blossom spelled her word perfectly, by the way. She stretched out the o-u-s at the end in a bewitching little whisper as she pulled away and her hair slipped through his fingers. That moment when the light changes and the temperature shifts and you’re weightless in a state of existential anticipation of something monumental about to happen, but not quite? That happened. Thirty minutes to explore the shape of that anticipation was enough time to taste it but not enough to savor it. Which, Brick supposed, was about to make this the best thirty minutes he was likely going to get all week.

“Are you ready?” Blossom watched him from behind the card she’d drawn. She had a glint in her eyes that told him she was smiling behind that card.

“Anytime.”

“Your word is eudaemonic.”

That fucking gorgeous ooh again.

“Define it.”

Blossom flushed as though he had just ordered her to bend over. She bit her lip (it must have been a ten Hail Mary’s kind of day when the Witch-Finder General caught a flesh and blood woman doing that with her improbably sorcerous lips) and grinned. “It means producing happiness. Based on the idea of happiness as the proper end of conduct.”

Producing happiness, which is proper, much like how Blossom came off as proper and even prim around adults, when really she was the most fun, most confident, most person he’d ever met, especially when she was spelling in that chiffon top (son of a bitch, that was a great top on her), and the only conduct he was interested in was of the happiest kind.

“Oh.” His throat clenched, and then his stomach twisted, and then his pants grew little too tight again in a full-body chain reaction that began and ended with a fierce determination not to give in first even though it would mean release because release would be meaningless without this etymological tête-à-tête.

Don’t think about tête-à-têtes.

Seventeenth century, noun, borrowed from the French meaning literally “head to head” (please, please stop hurting yourself like this).

“Brick?”

Brick cleared his throat. “Yup. Got it. E-u-d…”

Crisis averted, Brick picked the next card and promptly choked on his own tongue. Blossom made a show like she was concerned and are you all right? and please drink some water. Brick drank her water, which of course she had had her anatomically heretical lips on earlier, which was just fantastic for him. Tuesday fucking morning.

Milieu was her word.

“Milieu, hmm.” Blossom’s smile was spellbinding, which was a pun because he punned when he panicked. “Origin?”

You bitch, he thought, and be cool, and also, witchcraft.

Brick leaned back in his chair, slipped his trembling hands in his pockets, and squeezed every ounce of anything you can do I can do better into a winsome grin. “French.”

Blossom’s adult-facing façade cracked like an egg, and he got a glimpse of the raw delight she felt for this game, for the words, and for him for making it happen. For cultivating the electric milieu, if you will, currently driving them both into a state of impassioned, competitive euphoria at 9:42 a.m. in the library.

“Right, um…” She stumbled over her words, and Brick had to restrain himself from crowing for joy and risk the rheumy-eyed librarian coming to scold them.

By the time they got through another set of words, they were each visibly frustrated and doubly turned on by the other’s masochistic resolve not to throw in the towel.

“Okay, ready for another round?”

She wasn’t even trying to hide her intentions now, and that was just fine with Brick. “Of course.”

One more.

If it was another French word, he was fucking done.

“Really?” Blossom truly had ice in her veins for the way she was able to school her face then. He couldn’t read her, and that was very bad.

If it’s another fucking French word…

He could be over the desk and on her faster than you could say concupiscence.

“Okay.” Blossom set down the flashcard she’d drawn and folded her hands on the table. She looked him dead in the eye licked her lips. “Succedaneum.”

The bookshelf shook but Brick’s fingers didn’t as they pinned Blossom’s over a Dewey Decimal-stamped spine and he kissed her with all the horny passion of a teenage genius who would make a note to thank the devil for giving women lips. One of his better ideas.

xxx

“Hey, has anyone seen Blossom? I’ve sent her, like, four texts!” Bubbles shoved her phone, open to the ignored texts in question, in her sister’s face. “She was supposed to help me with Chem homework.”

Buttercup ducked. “No, and watch where you’re swinging that thing.”

“I saw her earlier,” Boomer said. “She was with Brick coming out of first period.”

“Oh, yeah.” Mike slung his arm around Boomer’s shoulders. “Don’t they both have a free period right now?”

Buttercup rolled her eyes. “What a scam. Whoever decided to give the A-students free periods while the rest of us mere mortals gotta slave away is a straight-up Supervillain.”

Boomer snapped his fingers. “Hey, I just remembered! They both decided to compete for the spot at the regional spelling bee this year. I bet that’s what they’re doing.”

“God, that’s the saddest thing I have ever heard in my life. That’s a new low even for Blossom.”

“I heard there’s a cash prize for the regional winner,” Bubbles said. “It’s like twenty thousand bucks! Remember, everyone in school signed up and we had to have that assembly to narrow it down?”

“Twenty thou— How the tits did I miss that?!”

“I mean, it was all over the school,” Mike said. “We signed up too.”

“What? And no one thought to tell me I could’ve won the lottery?”

Boomer chuckled. “Dude, come on. You wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell against Darla Dimpleton.”

“Who?”

Bubbles cast Boomer a not worth it look, and he just sighed. “So, if they’re studying for the spelling bee, do you think they’re in the library?”

At that moment, Butch came bursting down the hall a little too fast to be human. Open lockers rattled on their hinges as he passed, and a Sophomore girl’s binder went flying, scattering looseleaf papers everywhere. Buttercup looked ready to punch him in the dick for breaking the no powers in school rule. “Guys, you’re gonna shit!”

“Calm down before you blow a load, Jesus Christ.” Buttercup yanked him back down to the floor so he wouldn’t spontaneously float.

Sensibly, Boomer asked, “Why?”

“‘Cause Brick and Blossom are making out in the library right now!”

Mike cringed. “Oh, come on.”

“The hell they are,” Buttercup said.

Bubbles smiled. “Good for them.”

“I’m serious! There were books everywhere, and the noise—”

“Oh look, there goes my dignity. Better catch it before it gets away. C’mon, moron.” Buttercup dragged Butch down the hall over his protests. “What were you even doing in the library? I didn’t think you knew where it was…”

“Like that could ever happen,” Mike said. “Those two wouldn’t waste a minute of study time if it means beating out the competition.”

Boomer did not look so convinced. “I don’t know. I mean, they’re officially, for real dating now,”—“Finally!” Mike interjected—“so it’s not that unbelievable.”

The bell for the next period rang. Bubbles groaned thinking of stewing for an hour of Chem. At least she shared that class with Boomer and would not have to suffer alone. They parted from Mike and walked together through the throng of students rushing to get to their next period.

“Hey, do you think…”

“I mean…” Boomer shrugged.

They rounded the corner and nearly ran into Blossom dashing to her next class with a rushed “Got your texts talk later bye!” before she disappeared into the crowd.

Bubbles whirled on Boomer. “Did you see her buttons—”

“Completely uneven—”

The late bell rang and made them jump. Among the last stragglers, they both dashed a bit too fast to get to class and made it to their seats just as Mr. Micelli finished writing a problem on the board.

Boomer winked when she caught his eye a couple desks away from hers, and it took everything she had not to laugh.

“Good for her,” Bubbles said to herself.

“You are late,” Mr. Micelli said.

Everyone turned to watch Brick sink into his seat, his short hair totally askew and looking healthily flushed for a Tuesday morning.

Boomer burst out laughing and needed a whole minute to calm down.

He’d tell her later that the detention was worth it.

xxx

Witchcraft! 👁️👄👁️✨

#powerpuff girls #blossick #ppg reds #ppg blossom #ppg brick #ppg shook #powerpuff girls fanfic #february fic prompts #this probably won't show up in the tag due to cursing #so reblogs are super appreciated!!

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goldenraeofsun · 3 years

Text

Enhanced Extraction Techniques

Also available at AO3

“Cas?”

Cas whirls around. If he was standing on a normal floor, his shoes would have squeaked with the abrupt turn. In the Empty, though, his feet don’t make a sound. “Dean?” he calls back, his heart soaring in his chest.

“Cas? Where are you, man?”

Cas spins in another circle, his eyes straining against the darkness. The oppressive blankness of nothing presses against his eyeballs like an almost tangible film. He tries again, “Dean?”

“Cas?”

“Dean!” Cas takes off in the direction of Dean’s voice.

“Are you there?”

Cas walks faster, anticipation quickening his heels. “I’m coming!”

“I can’t find you!”

“I’m here!” Cas calls back desperately.

“I’m running out of time here, buddy! Spell’s not gonna last forever. Where the hell are you?”

Panicked, Cas breaks out into a run. “I’m coming, Dean!”

“Are you?”

Cas stops dead. If he was back on Earth, he would have fallen flat on his face with the momentum. He turns to his right, where Dean’s voice just came.

“Cas? You there?”

Dean’s voice definitely came from his left that time.

“I need you.”

Cas swallows. Dean’s voice is coming from directly in front of him now. Icy dread creeps up his spine, but he feels hot all over.

“You make it too easy, Castiel.”

Dean never calls him by his full name, not in more than a decade. He is not talking with Dean.

“Nobody is coming for you.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Shamed beyond reason, he just stands there because there is nothing else to do. He can’t hide from the Empty. The Empty is everywhere.

Black ooze, blacker than the surrounding darkness, bubbles up from the floor. The Empty resolves into Cas’s own face, to his surprise. He’d been expecting Dean.

It shrugs, a knowing smirk playing on its lips. “What can I say? If you’re determined to keep me awake, I might as well amuse myself.”

“Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired,” Cas says as tonelessly as he can manage.

The Empty crosses its arms over its chest. “My options are limited, aren’t they?” it says snidely. “I can’t put you to sleep, so I can’t sleep. I might as well make this experience as hellish for you as it is for me.”

Cas frowns. “You could always negate our deal. Send me back to Earth.”

The Empty laughs. “That’s not how it works. That was a one-way trip.”

Cas grinds his teeth. “Then it seems like we’re at an impasse.”

“An impasse requires two forces of equal power,” the Empty tuts. “And you, my little gnat, have no power in this equation. You are my plaything. What was it that Gabriel said? A thousand channels and nothing’s on. Except you.”

Before Cas can respond, the Empty disappears, dissolving into a tarry splatter and absorbing into whatever passes as the floor in this place.

* * *

Cas wanders. He used to sleep while he was bored, but the Empty truly reigns supreme in his dreams. Cas killed Naomi’s Dean facsimile a thousand times, a million times. He watched Dean rake leaves, Crowley whispering poisoned promises into his ear. He walked away as Dean hurts and rages silently behind him in the Bunker.

So Cas stays awake. He’s an angel. It isn’t hard.

Dean’s voice occasionally calls for him.

Cas ignores it.

He wanders for what seems like miles, like hundreds of miles. Nothing ever changes in the Empty. With every step forward, he meets the same bleak blackness. The closest comparison in his long memory is the fraction of a second before the Big Bang - there was emptiness then too, but it was filled with a pregnant sense of promise. In the Empty - nothing.

Until.

Dean is running towards him.

Cas blinks a few times to make sure, even though his vision is perfect.

“Cas,” Dean breaks the silence first, “I found you.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes - any louder, and Dean will hear the trembling. “You’re here.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean says with a wink. “Now, come on. We’re getting out of here.” He takes off in the direction he came from, glancing behind him to check on Cas.

“We are?” Cas asks, following.

Dean throws him a disbelieving look. “Of course, dude. Sam and Jack are prepping the spell to get us back to the Bunker. We got Chuck by the short and curlies, but we’re one power player short. So we gotta get a move on.”

“So you need me?” Cas asks.

“Your mojo is the ticket,” Dean says with a little grin. “Chuck wiped all the angels off the Earth except Michael. And that dick isn’t answering our prayers, so you’re our next best bet.”

The joy at seeing Dean wavers. “I am?” he asks haltingly.

Dean shrugs. “We gotta work with what we have. And we just remembered you were here, out of Chuck’s reach. Our own spare angel!”

Cas barely holds back his flinch. Hunching in on himself, he mutters, “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean assures him, misreading his reaction completely. “We have a plan.”

Cas sighs. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Sam found a spell,” Dean says. “It’ll rip Chuck apart, and, since Amara’s inside him - which, gross - it’ll maintain the balance when the spell takes her apart too.”

Dean stops walking.

Cas looks around, but nothing sets aside this patch of emptiness from any other. No illuminated rift, no magic symbols, no X marking the spot - nothing.

“The catch is,” Dean says as he turns to Cas, his face regretful, “the spell needs an angel’s grace.”

In a blink of an eye, an angel blade drops into Dean’s palm.

Cas blinks. No beings but angels can manifest that particular weapon.

Dean raises the blade, fingers flexing on the handle. “You know,” he says conversationally, “Now that I think about it, we don’t actually need the angel himself - just the battery.”

Cas stands his ground, his eyes darting over Dean’s face, taking in every nuance and tell.

“I told you once,” Cas says warily, a horrible foreboding coming over him, “I’m always happy to bleed for the Winchesters.”

“Happy to hear that, Cas,” Dean says, his face impassive, “because you’re gonna bleed a lot, not gonna lie.” He shoves the blade in Cas’s chest, right above his heart.

Cas staggers back from the blow, pain and shock radiating out from the bloodless wound.

Dean raises his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a mocking smile as Cas meets his smug face. “What, were you expecting to go poof? We’re in the Empty,” he throws its hands wide, “everyone’s in stasis here, including you.”

Cas yanks the blade out of his chest, but it - and Dean - turns into black goo before he can stab anything with it.

* * *

The Empty doesn’t mimic Dean next. Instead it takes Meg’s shape, Samandriel’s, Duma’s. Every one of the thousands of angels Cas killed up in heaven.

And there’s no escape. Cas can do his best not to listen, but if he retreats too far into himself, it almost counts as sleeping. With the Empty’s nudging, his thoughts will veer into his worst regrets, sooner or later.

The Empty is in the middle of lecturing him in the form of Balthazar, when it explodes in a burst of light and sound.

Dean Winchester stands in the aftermath.

“Come on,” he says roughly. He strides forward to grab Cas’s hand and tug him in the other direction. “That bomb doesn’t last forever.”

“Dean?”

“Who else?” Dean yanks him sharply to the left. “This place didn’t turn your brains to scrambled eggs, did it?”

“I don’t think so,” Cas says shakily. “Dean are you really...”

“What?”

Cas can’t help looking down at their clasped hands. A fleeting thing, barely more than a glance. Still, Dean drops Cas’s hand like it burned him. “You good to run?” he asks shortly.

Cas barely nods before Dean takes off. They hurtle through the Empty, their rapid footsteps impossibly silent. Dean’s breath comes in sharp pants, and Cas’s useless wings ache, not for the first time, to fly them to their destination.

“Dean,” Cas starts, and Dean slows. “Where are we going?”

“Where I left my stuff,” Dean says shortly. “The spell to get us out of here needs a shit-ton of crap, and I couldn’t haul it all over this goddamn place while I was trying to find you.”

“How did you know your way back?”

The corners of Dean’s mouth lift in a faint smile. He points to the floor. “M&Ms.”

Cas squints at the ground, and, sure enough, they are following a trail of tiny candies. “Ingenious,” he murmurs.

“Hey, it worked with a Wendigo,” Dean says, shrugging. He directs them in a few more twists and turns before Cas sees Dean's duffle bag in the distance, topped with a bright yellow bag of M&Ms.

As they get closer, Dean pulls out an angel blade from inside his jacket.

Cas balks.

Dean shoots him a puzzled look as he hands it to him. “It won’t kill anything here, obviously,” he says, unzipping his bag. He pulls out a copper bowl and bundles of herbs, “But having a weapon’s never a bad idea in unknown dimensions.”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas surveils their inky surroundings, already on high alert for any trespassers.

“Watch my back, okay?” Dean glances over his shoulder. Various ingredients get dropped into the bowl with outsized clangs and dribbles that seem to echo in the void around them.

Cas stays vigilant.

“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Dean mutters as the bowl’s contents start to smoke.

“Don’t jinx it,” Cas mutters out of the side of his mouth.

Dean chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t think angels believed in jinxes.”

It’s not like Cas has been especially angelic these past few years. He says shortly, “I’ve found you can never be too careful.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Need your blood for this part,” he says, shuffling over to make room. “Wait,” Dean says before Cas can press the blade againt his skin.

“Yes?”

“This is the last step,” Dean says seriously. “Once your blood goes in, it’s liftoff. So I wanted to get a couple things straight before we’re back in the Bunker.”

Cas doesn’t need to breathe, but if he did, his breath would have hitched in his chest at the closed-off look on Dean’s face. “Of course.”

“What you said - what you told me,” Dean starts, his voice hard, “before you got sucked to this hellscape.” He drops his gaze to the bowl cradled in his hands, “That’s not me.”

Cas presses his lips together, struggling to keep his face impassive. Once he regains control of himself he says, “I did not expect you to reciprocate when I told you about my feelings for you.”

Dean actively recoils at the mention of feelings. He gives the bowl a little toss, and a few of the contents spill onto the floor. “Just, forget it,” he says brusquely, gathering everything up again.

“Dean-”

He turns to Cas, his eyes blazing. “But - you know what? I can’t forget it.”

Cas opens his mouth, but Dean is not done.

“How could you offload all that shit on me right before you fucked off to parts unknown?” he demands, voice rising in anger and volume. “Of all the goddamn things you could have said to me - that takes the fucking cake. You were my best friend -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Worst moment of my goddamn life.”

Cas takes a step back, a sickly horror trickling down his spine. “I didn’t think-”

But Dean’s not listening. “I had serious doubts about coming here at all,” he continues, and the last Dean had stabbed him in the chest - how is this so much worse? “But Sam gave me those goddamn puppy dog eyes, and don’t even get me started on Jack-”

“I understand,” Cas interrupts stiffly. He inhales a deep breath he doesn’t need and continues, “Once we return to the Bunker, I’ll stay out of your way.”

“Probably for the best,” Dean mutters.

Cas cuts his forearm, watching with perverse fascination as the blood wells up and drips into the bowl waiting below.

There’s a violent burst of light and sound.

In the aftermath, Cas can only make out Dean’s mocking laughter. Before Cas can say a word, it turns into Meg’s delighted giggles. And then Gabriel’s howls of mirth.

* * *

Cas sleeps after getting deceived for the third time. Anything is better than seeing the smug face of the Empty, whether it’s wearing Dean’s face, Gadreel’s, or Ruby’s.

He breaks the wall in Sam’s head.

He lets Lucifer possess him in a futile plan.

He beats Dean to a bloody mess for the Angel Tablet.

Occasionally, the Empty grants him release, and Cas gets to deliver a bad joke to Uriel in Mesopotamia or Dean calls him a baby in a trenchcoat in a diner.

Time passes. Cas has no idea how long. There’s no sun - no moon - no cycling of the heavens. Only emptiness.

He gets shaken awake.

Cas blinks up at a pair of very familiar green eyes. “Dean,” he says, more or less resigned.

“Jesus,” Dean says as he sits back on his heels, “Way to make a guy feel welcome. I’m here to save your sorry ass, in case you were wondering. A full week of tearing my hair out over how to get you outta here, and this is the thanks I get.”

Cas sits up. “My apologies,” he says tentatively as he studies Dean’s face. There’s no sign it isn’t really Dean.

Then again, none of the others showed signs either.

Cas gets to his feet, asking, “Are you alone?”

Dean glances around them warily. “Yeah, Sam and Jack are keeping the portal open in the Bunker. They wanted to come,” he says, his eyes raking over Cas’s face, drinking him in. “They’ll be over the fucking moon to see you again.”

Cas swallows. “And you?”

“I -” A dull flush comes over Dean’s cheeks. He looks away.

Cas’s face shutters. “Right,” he says as he stands in front of Dean. “Now what?”

“Hey,” Dean says, reaching out to grasp his left shoulder, a mirror of the mark Cas left on him so long ago and so recently. “I missed you too. You have to know that.”

Worst moment of my life.

Cas looks away, Dean’s own raised voice echoing in his head.

“Hey,” Dean says again, gentler this time. His green eyes bore into Cas’s face. “What’s going on in that celestial brain of yours?”

The words catch in Cas’s throat, a lump of embarrassment and fear keeping them there. Embarrassment that the Empty deceived him. Fear that the Empty was right.

“Look, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms,” Dean says awkwardly, “and maybe this isn’t the best place to talk about it, but I’m so fucking happy to see you, man.” He chuckles ruefully. “’S making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Even if it’s only a facsimile of Dean - and there’s no way to tell for certain - seeing his face not contorted in anger or mockery is like a balm on Cas’s soul. If he had one, that was.

“About what you said before you got taken-” Dean starts.

Cas’s heart sinks.

“No,” Dean says, his voice low and gentle, “listen to me. I get that happiness for you might just be in the being, but for me-”

“It’s fine, Dean,” Cas interrupts. “I meant that, truly. You don’t have to-”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, smiling slightly, “You’re not making this easy are you?”

Cas bites his tongue to keep from contradicting Dean again.

“As I was saying,” Dean continues pointedly, his green eyes shining, “For me, happiness isn’t in the being - whatever the hell that means. It’s in the goddamn having.”

Cas bites his tongue harder, the pain hardly registering against the burst of hope fluttering wildly in his chest. “Dean,” he forces out, “You can’t mean…”

“Cas,” Dean starts, and Cas’s heart breaks - or mends. He can’t tell. He has no idea who he is talking to, and it’s, to borrow a phrase from the real Dean, an epic mindfuck.

“Cas,” the Dean standing in front of him repeats, and Cas’s gaze automatically draws back to his face, “Good things do happen.”

Cas chuckles wetly. He has no choice but to say, “Not in my experience.”

Dean takes a step closer, far into the personal space he’d shown Cas so many years ago. Brows drawing together, he raises a hand to cup Cas’s face. “Someone told me a while ago that having faith was important. Seems you’re a little short there, buddy.”

Cas tries to duck his head, but Dean won’t let him. Eventually, he admits, “My faith has been tested recently.”

“But you didn’t give up, right?” Dean asks, leaning in close enough that Cas can feel the warmth of his breath in the air between them.

Cas shakes his head minutely. “No,” he murmurs, “not entirely.”

“Good,” Dean says, pausing just shy of Cas’s mouth. Waiting.

Cas steels himself and closes distance.

Just before their lips touch, Dean implodes in a burst of inky ooze.

* * *

Cas breaks several knuckles on the floor of the Empty. There are no walls to punch, no blade to send heads rolling. Cas works with what he has.

The real Dean would probably approve.

Dean shows up again before too long. This Dean goes so far as to tell Cas he loves him.

Cas turns his back on Dean’s heartbroken face. He refuses to engage.

He wanders instead.

* * *

Cas hears the footsteps before he sees his next Dean.

“Cas!” he pants, “Thank fuck. I thought I was never going to find you.”

Cas merely sighs.

Dean makes a face. “Way to roll out the welcome wagon,” he says, clearly offended. “I would’ve thought you were sick of this place by now.”

Cas purses his lips. “I am.”

“Shocker,” Dean says with a little smile. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time, so you gotta follow me.”

Cas doesn’t budge. He’d rather roam this place for eternity than suffer at the hands of another Dean facsimile. And he had thought he saw enough of them under Naomi’s tutelage. He’d been so naive.

Dean stares at him like Cas just stripped naked and danced the macarena. “What are you doing?”

“You’re not real,” Cas says bluntly.

Dean gapes. “Of course I’m real! Chuck’s de-powered, and Jack… well, it’s a long story. Bottom line: nobody’s pulling our strings but us.”

Cas lets out a derisive laugh.

Dean’s eyebrows rise, but he barrels on, “So it’s time to get a move on. Up and at ‘em, sunshine.” He jerks his head off to the right.

Cas stays where he is. “No.”

“What the hell?” Dean has the gall to tug on Cas’s sleeve like he’s a wayward toddler. “Come on. You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Cas retorts. It’s not his best rejoinder, but he’s been very stressed lately.

Whatever Dean was about to say dies on his tongue as he stares at Cas in confusion. “What’s wrong with you?” He shakes his head before Cas can respond, saying, “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out later. But now, you’ve gotta come with me.”

Cas levels him a flat glare. This one is more stubborn than the last, more like the real Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because you don’t deserve to be stuck here?” Dean says, gesturing to the void around them. “You saved the world, Cas.” He swallows. “You saved me. Getting you out is the least we can do.”

“Because you need me to take on Chuck,” Cas says.

“No?” Dean says, his eyes narrowing. “I already told you, Chuck’s off the playing board.”

“Because you feel guilty about leaving me here.”

“No - wait, I do, but,” Dean breaks off, irritated, “you know what I mean.”

Cas doesn’t, so he continues in the same vein as before, “Because you love me.”

Dean hesitates. “I’m working on it.”

Cas snorts. At least the last Dean had the balls to say it. Many times. While crying.

“What?” Dean throws up his hands. “You just sprung it on me, dude! I didn’t even know angels could feel things like that, and it took me by surprise, okay? I’m only human, and sometimes we need time to get used to ideas. Like when we found out Snooki was a demon. Yeah, the signs were there, and it makes sense, but still - you sometimes need it spelled out for you.”

Cas pauses. None of the other Deans had referenced pop culture. “How long ago was this for you?”

“Since we summoned Snooki?”

At Cas’s icy look of disdain, Dean hedges, “A month? Give or take.” He glares. “First we had to deal with Chuck, and it took a while to find a spell to get here. Remember, we didn’t even know this was a place before you died the last time. The Men of Letters weren’t a shit ton of help, for once.”

Cas crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just… hear me out,” Dean says. “There’s a portal to get us home. Sam and Jack can’t stall the Empty forever.”

That was new. “Jack and Sam aren’t in the Bunker?”

“No,” Dean says as he takes off in the opposite direction, all but forcing Cas to follow to find out more. “They’re up in Heaven.”

“Why?”

“Because the Empty can’t get to Earth without a summoning spell, which, as far as we can tell, doesn’t exist?” Dean says, checking over his shoulder to make sure Cas is still within earshot. “But you made that fucking stupid deal in Heaven, so we knew it could at least travel there. Jack zapped Sam to the Pearly Gates, and they’re hopefully making a distraction while I get you out.”

Still not entirely convinced, Cas asks begrudgingly, “And where are we going?”

“A portal,” Dean says confidently. “This place is a little like Purgatory, apparently. If it senses a human here, it’ll create a portal to spit them out again.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “So here I am, 100% genuine human to bail your ass out.”

“Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it,” Dean says with a wink.

Cas scowls. The first Dean had winked at him too.

“Jesus, tough crowd,” Dean mutters as they head further into the Empty.

Cas scans the ground, but there are no small candies lining the way. “How do you know where to go?”

“Turns out, Sam could find a spell for that,” Dean says as he holds up his left hand - clutching his amulet. The Empty must have really hunted around in his memories for that one, even more so than the Wendigo case. He hasn’t seen the real amulet in nearly five years. “It heats up when I’m on the right track towards the exit.”

“So no M&Ms?”

Dean turns to him. “I told you about that?”

Cas stares straight ahead, willing his face to fall into an expressionless mask. The real Dean had told him about the Wendigo over dinner with Sam and Mary while she was still alive, or the Empty wouldn’t be able to use it as inspiration now.

Dean shakes his head, smiling. “Man, I haven’t thought about that case in forever.” He glances at Cas, his face sobering. “You really don’t believe this is real?”

“No.”

He can’t. Not again.

Dean sighs as he steers them slightly to the right. “Come on, I’m almost getting third degree burns from this thing. We must be close.”

Sure enough, a blue swirling portal comes into view, a pinprick of light in the distance at first, elongating into an exact replica of the Purgatory exit as they approach.

“Finally,” Dean mutters, his face impassive. He turns to Cas. “Just… don’t stay behind,” he grimaces, “again.”

This version has been the most true to Dean - less callous than the first, more caring than the second, more guarded than the third. It will hurt the most when this one falls apart. Maybe it would be better if Cas heads it off at the pass instead of letting the whole painstaking ruse play out all the way through.

If the Empty could get it over with, Cas will go back to sleep. Anything is better than this torture.

Cas takes a step back, away from the portal. “This is pointless-”

“Jesus Christ, Cas!” Dean throws his hands in the air. “I don’t get it at all. You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

Cas gapes at him.

Dean continues heatedly, “If an ex-demon with anger management problems and rap sheet a mile long deserved to be saved, I think a legit angel should get the same.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’m hardly a prime example of an angel anymore.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Have I ever cared about that?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Glad we can agree on something,” Dean cuts him off. “Now, are you going to go through the portal or am I gonna have to drag you? I’ll do it,” he threatens. “Don’t test me.”

Cas wavers. Everything in him says to follow Dean. But this isn’t the real Dean - this is the Empty waiting for the glorious moment when it can yank the illusion away, leaving Cas a little more broken than before.

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Fuck you,” he spits, “You can’t trust me just a little-”

“Trust?” Cas echoes as he strides forward to grab the lapels of Dean’s jacket, his voice rising in a mixture of outrage, desperation, and heartache, “You want me to trust you? After you’ve lied to me, deceived me - after you stabbed me, after you told me I put you through the worst moment of your life the last time you saw me, after you made me think you returned my feelings only to - only to-”

Dean shakes his head slowly. “But I didn’t do any of that.”

“You did,” Cas says fervently, shaking Dean a little - or maybe that’s his trembling hands. “You did - you’ve been putting me through hell since I got here, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you.”

Dean’s expression hardens. “You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I do,” Cas swears. “I’m done pretending.”

Dean his eyes flicking down to Cas’s mouth. “What do you know,” he breathes, “so am I.”

Cas freezes, waiting for Dean to dissolve into a puddle of goo in his hands.

Dean kisses him instead.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips to his, Cas jerks back in surprise and horror.

He falls straight into the portal.

The Empty vanishes in a blur of too-bright light.

* * *

Cas comes to in the middle of a field. The sun shines overhead. Noon, Cas registers distantly as he looks around. Dean’s sprawled on the prairie grasses next to him, already waking up judging by the groaning noises.

“Dean?”

Dean opens his eyes, glances at the sky, and closes them again. “Oh great, we made it.”

Cas tentatively picks his way closer to Dean’s side. He stands over him for a moment, shuffling to the side so he doesn’t block the sunlight falling on Dean’s face. “We’re on Earth.”

“Well, it’s sure as shit not Mars,” Dean grumbles, eyes still closed. “Are you watching me right now? I feel like you’re watching me right now.”

Cas stares around the field. “Not anymore,” he says, and a genuine breeze blows against his face. What a marvel.

“‘S okay,” Dean says as he wiggles a little on the grass, getting more comfortable, “’M used to it.”

Cas turns to him. “It’s really you.”

“The real deal, sweetheart,” Dean cracks his eyes open, one corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile. “You believe me now?”

“This could be the most elaborate ruse yet.”

Dean lifts his head up. “Seriously? You dick, I did not haul ass all the way-”

“I don’t really believe that, however,” Cas says before Dean can work himself up too much.

“Good.” He meaningfully thumps the grass next to him. “Sit. You’re giving me serious Law & Order vibes.”

Cas’s brow furrows. “I don’t get that reference. I know about Law & Order-”

“And how does every episode of Law & Order start?” Dean interrupts, “With someone standing over a dead body in a field.”

Cas takes a seat. “Not always a field. Most episodes show corpses in urban areas, or, once, a yacht.”

“Pretty sure it was more than once. I hate procedural cop shows.”

“They are very formulaic,” Cas admits, stretching out his legs, “and lack the drama of soap operas.”

“I’m just saying, if a long lost sibling doesn’t pop out of the woodwork or if the main character isn’t killed off at least six times, is it really worth watching?”

Cas levels him a flat look. “Dean, all those things have happened to you.”

Dean snorts. “At least none of us got amnesia.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Speak for yourself.”

Dean turns his head to stare at him, a wide grin spreading across his face as he laughs. “Oh shit, you're right. How the hell did I forget?”

“Because of supreme irony, most likely.”

It takes Dean a moment to get it, but when he does, he laughs even louder.

Cas doesn’t have anything to add, so he lets the conversation peter off into silence, listening to Dean’s even breathing and the grass rustling in the gentle wind.

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” Dean says in an undertone.

Cas turns to him. Dean’s eyes are closed again, but everything else about him radiates a quiet tension Cas might’ve missed anywhere else. But here, in this field, nothing prevents Cas from honing on Dean’s whole being with everything he has. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“I dunno,” Dean says, his face scrunching up, “I thought it would be more awkward. But… it doesn’t feel any different.”

Cas blinks. “Why should it?” he asks, and though he’s not definitively sure what Dean means by ‘it’, he has a very strong suspicion.

Dean shoots him a pointed look. “Because you don’t tell someone you love them and expect everything to be OK after.”

Cas lays down next to Dean. Staring up at the wispy clouds overhead, he says, “If it changes anything, I didn’t expect to be around for the after part.” Dean’s head turns to look at him, but Cas can’t bring himself to see whatever expression is on his face. “If you’d like for us to go our separate ways after this, I understand.”

“You stupid bastard,” Dean mutters vehemently, “for the last goddamn time, I did not piss off the immortal Blob just to tell you to go fuck yourself in person.”

Cas inhales a slow breath, breathing in the dirt, wildflowers growing nearby, and Dean. “You kissed me,” he says.

“You said you loved me,” Dean shoots back.

“Did you mean it?”

“Did you?”

Cas grimaces as he turns his head to face him. “I thought it was obvious.”

Dean swallows. “No, it wasn’t,” he says quietly, “but I’ve never been good at that stuff.”

Cas squints at him. “You are the most emotionally intelligent man I’ve ever met.”

“What?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “You expertly navigate and manipulate people’s emotions to get them to talk to you, open up to you, have sex with you,” he lists. “It’s extraordinary to witness.”

Dean makes a choking noise. “Dude,” he says, which tells Cas absolutely nothing. A few more clouds pass by before Dean speaks again. “I guess the signs were there - with you. But I didn’t want to put them together.”

“Why not?”

Dean shrugs, his shoulders scraping almost inaudibly against the soil and grass stems. “Just didn’t.”

“Then that’s why I didn’t tell you. But, Dean-” Cas breaks off. This part of the conversation, despite what Dean said earlier, does not feel the same as others between them.

Dean’s eyes flick to his. “Yeah?”

“You kissed me.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. “I did,” he says at last.

Cas waits, but Dean doesn’t elaborate. “Was it just a ploy to get me to leave the Empty?”

“No.”

Cas grimaces. Not for the first time, his life would be so much easier if Dean could communicate without speaking in riddles or hiding every third word he wanted to say. “Dean...”

“I told you I’m working on it,” Dean says defensively.

Cas closes his eyes. “What does that mean?” he asks, his voice strained.

“It means I’m working on it,” Dean says shortly. But before Cas can press him further, he lets out an explosive sigh. “It means I don’t want to hear any more goodbyes from you. It means - it means that kiss wasn’t too bad, right?”

“I thought you were a fake version of yourself created to torture me for eternity,” Cas says flatly.

Dean props himself up on his elbows. “So all I’m hearing is there’s room for improvement.”

Cas rolls his eyes as Dean scoots closer, peering down at him. “I suppose that’s one way you could look at it.”

“Would you wanna... do something like that again?” Dean asks, his expression confident while his voice is anything but.

“Only if you want to,” Cas says seriously.

Dean licks his lips. He nods once, the movement stilted.

“Should I sit up?” Cas asks, frowning, as he half-lifts his head. “Or do you want to lay back down-”

“Cas,” Dean says impatiently, “it’s kissing we’re talking about here, not Twister.”

“I have played that game before.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” Dean says, a tentative smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth. “You ever do it naked?”

Cas frowns. “There was a strict policy against nudity in the psychiatric ward.”

Dean ducks his head, laughing silently. His forehead lands on Cas’s sternum, his breath warming Cas’s chest from the outside in.

“You were trying to say something arousing,” Cas says, a beat too late.

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “Something like that.”

“I would like to play naked Twister with you.”

Dean’s eyes sparkle with amusement. “Glad to hear it,” he says as he leans over Cas. Cas goes a bit cross-eyed to keep him in view until Dean murmurs, “Relax. ‘S just me.”

In the instant before their lips meet, Cas half-expects the whole world around him to splatter apart in a tidal wave of black, otherworldly goo. But Dean is gloriously solid, gloriously human, as he cradles Cas’s half-raised head, his fingers tangling in his hair.

The midday sun shines; the grass whispers in the wind; and Cas is saved.

#destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #15x18 au #15x20 au #fix-it #canon divergence #canon au #profoundnet #rae writes fic #psychological torture #angst

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Doll Me Up (P.11, Final)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Eleven, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 1,892 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Ten || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

~2 weeks later…

“Come now, drink up,” Tony said, gesturing impatiently since he was needing to leave to go to a meeting bright and early, and you picked up the glass warily.

He had made you a smoothie out of hemp, cucumber, avocado, kale, ginger, grapes, and coconut milk. You had watched him adding each ingredient feeling more and more anxious. You just wanted an egg and bacon sandwich.

You grimaced as you swallowed it. You whined, “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t either but it’s good for us, kitten,” Tony said, grabbing his own glass and taking a swig. He barely held back a face. “I’ve gotta be tip top shape for you and the baby. And you gotta be tip top shape for baby Stark.”

Scowling, you stared down at your glass, muttering, “I don’t like you calling it that.”

“I don’t like you calling it… it.”

“Well, we don’t know the sex yet, so what do you want me to say?”

“Baby Stark,” Tony quipped, taking another drink. He eyed your glass, nodding, telling you to do the same.

You took another long drink and swallowed it with difficulty. “It sounds too close to that annoying ass song.” Tony cocked his head in confusion, and you said, “I won’t subject you to it. Or myself to it. Again. Once was enough. I’m glad we are past the age – hopefully – that abomination is in vogue.”

“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” Tony said, pulling out his phone.

“Please, don’t,” you begged and then thought quick to threaten, “I won’t finish this if you do.”

Tony pointed at you and said, “That’s not fair. That’s for baby… the baby. This is for me and you can handle it.” Your jaw set and put the glass down, staring defiantly back at him. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. “You hate it that much?”

“Yes.”

Rolling his eyes, he placed his phone back down and picked his glass back up, taking another drink. At his relent, you did the same. Tony finished his and sucked his teeth before rinsing his glass in the sink. You forced yourself to finish as well and placed the glass back down on the counter. Tony grabbed it from you and rinsed yours as well.

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, “I’ll listen to it at work.”

“I am telling you, you shouldn’t subject yourself to it,” you replied.

“Digging my own grave then,” Tony joked before giving you another kiss, longer this time. He tapped your nose and said, “Do your laps in the pool, princess. Don’t forget. Doctor said that would help aches and loosening your muscles.” You nodded in response and he smiled, his hand coming to rest on your abdomen for a second before he moved past you to go to the garage and leave.

<><><>

~2.5 months later… (5.5 months along)

Tony had you on your knees on the bed, your fingers spread, digging into the bed, bracing yourself. He ran his hands up your sides as he kept a steady pace. He was being gentler than usual, and you were thankful, loving the intimate contact. His touch was sensual and loving. The further you got along, the more he was relaxing on the rough sex.

The two of you ended up on your sides, Tony holding you close this chest as you came down.

He laid a kiss on your cheek, still panting softly from the exertion considering he had done most of the work.

His hand slid down to your abdomen, caressing your ever growing bump gently.

“Look at how perfect and strong you are, kitten,” he murmured. He turned your head towards him and kissed you slow and deep. “A superhero in your own right, growing life.” You smiled gently at that.

<><><>

~1.5 months later… (7 months)

“She’s been good,” Happy commented, watching Y/N inside from the back patio. She was showing now completely, round, and no hiding her pregnancy. “I can admit, I am surprised.” He looked at Mikhail and said, “Looks like you aren’t a complete idiot.”

“Took you long enough to figure out,” Mikhail responded, taking a long drink, looking at the women gathered inside the room. He smacked his lips and said under his breath to Happy, “Not stoked about being at a baby shower but at least there’s a lot of nice ass to look at.”

Inside the mansion, you took the salad from your friend, who commented, “You should eat something else.”

“We are going to have cake later,” you said waving her off.

“I meant something more nutritious than a green salad, Y/N.”

“Spinach is very healthy,” you retorted.

“There are a lot of finger foods. Tea sandwiches. Meatballs on sticks with veggies. Deviled eggs. Pinwheels?”

You sighed, chewing the bite of salad you had just taken. “A couple deviled eggs wouldn’t be bad. And some veggie sticks with ranch.”

She walked off and you scowled to yourself. Everyone was trying to constantly get you to eat ‘healthy’ for the baby and it was getting worse, the hounding about everything you needed to do. You were tired of it. The constant asking about what you had eaten and when, the reminders to drink water as if you had not been drinking water your entire life, did you exercise…

Cassandra waltzed over, sitting down next to you. You were very thankful she had decided to come and had forgiven you for the scene at her house less than a year ago. She picked a crouton off your salad, drawing a smirk out of you as she winked, before she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you get this dress? It is gorgeous.”

“Tiffany Rose.”

“The blush color looks beautiful on you. And I love you went dramatic with the floor length.”

“Thanks. Would you expect anything less from me?” you asked, jokingly. She shook her head, smiling. You took another bite and swallowed. “Are you looking for a dress for your shower?”

She nodded in return. She was taking a break from porn – hinting she might not go back at all – having gotten pregnant herself. And then asked, her eyebrows wiggling, “Is the blush supposed to be an indicator about the sex?”

“No. I just liked the color.”

“You really don’t know the sex yet? It’s a surprise for everyone?”

“Well, for us. I’m sure Happy and Mikhail know. God knows Tony couldn’t have kept it all to himself. Good luck breaking them though. I’ve been trying to get Happy to slip up about it for a couple weeks.”

Cassandra leaned back and said, “So, he set it all up and then the cake cutting reveal is his secret?” You nodded. “Hmm, he put a lot of work into this.”

“He did,” you confirmed, taking another bite as your other friend returned with a plate of deviled eggs and the vegetables you had agreed to. You held out the half-finished salad bowl and they took it, albeit reluctantly seeing you had not finished. You took the plate and obliged them by eating one of the eggs. “He’s excited.”

You paused and then added, “Excited but he’s ready for rough sex again.”

“I’m sure you are too,” Cassandra joked, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah. I’m tired of just… growing.” You took a bite off one of the carrot sticks. “It’s never ending. And I know I’ve got probably another month and a half of it at least.”

“It’ll all be worth it,” Cassandra reassured you, stealing a celery stick off your plate now and biting into it.

You finished off your carrot, swallowed, and muttered, “I fucking hope so.”

Your hand came to your stomach, rubbing. You were anxious to know what the sex was. When the sex had been able to be detected, Tony insisted you should stay in the dark so he could make it an actual reveal at the baby shower for you. You hated not knowing when he did, but he had been persistent about the idea of it and you had gone with it because he seemed thrilled with the idea. You just wanted to know. You were hoping the party would progress faster so you could end that anxiousness.

When it finally happened, the blue inside the cake settled something in you. At least you knew what that part of your future was going to look like.

<><><>

~2.5 months later…

“What’s this?” Tony asked, seeing another travel bag next to yours.

“It’s for Miles,” you said as if that was obvious. You went back into your closet, grabbing another scarf from your collection. It was going to be cold at Lake Tahoe for the trip.

Tony took the scarf from you and put it in your travel bag. “He doesn’t need a bag. He’s staying here.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, stricken. He was only a month old. Barely.

“Doctors said one month is enough, but a lot recommend three months for trips. So, we are going to play it safe. He’ll stay here and we will go.”

“Tony, I—we can’t leave him!” you tried to argue, your hand falling protectively on his travel bag.

Tony’s eyes flicked to your hands and he gripped them, prying them away to grasp them in his. He stared into your eyes and said, “Sure we can. It’s only three days, Y/N. We will be back before you know it. He is an infant; he’s not going to notice.”

You were going to notice leaving your infant behind.

“I have to breastfeed him,” you tried another argument.

“Pump before we leave. You have back up in the fridge, no? And it keeps for up to four days. And then he can have formula otherwise.”

“I didn’t want to give him formula,” you protested.

“Don’t listen to that shit that says it’s not good. I had formula and I’m a genius by earthly standards,” Tony said, trying to make a joke. “I already got the formula, Wendy knows how to whip it up.”

“But—” you started to protest but Tony interjected.

“Just us, princess. Just us,” Tony said, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he cradled your face. “He’ll be fine. He’s in very capable hands with Wendy. You trust her right?” He waited for you to respond and you nodded; you did trust her, wholeheartedly. But that did not mean you did not want to bring your infant on a trip with the two of you. Before you could actually say anything, Tony’s hands fell from your face and gripped at your hips, sliding back to your ass to hold you close. “Let’s enjoy ourselves.” He leaned in, nipping at your ear, “Let me enjoy you. He’s been stealing all your attention as of late.”

You hated that last comment. Throughout your pregnancy and even from the beginning, you had had a nagging feeling Tony was going to get jealous about sharing your affection and attention. And that was just proving it.

“I deserve some attention, don’t I, baby?”

Shoving down argument, you forced a quick smile. “Of course, daddy. All of my attention.”

He smiled sensually, his hands kneading at your ass as he pulled you closer. His eyes were alight with adoration for you. “That’s my perfect princess.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

#tony stark x reader #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #dark marvel fic #my shit

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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years

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Cat Moms Included

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x FemReader

Word Count: 1,862

For: @storiesofsvu 1 Year Anniversary Bingo

Square: Mother's/Father's Day

TW: none really, briefly implied smut, but mostly tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: Yes, I know I'm a bit late for Mother's Day, but hey, I got something done! Cat Daddy Frederick and Buttercup are back, and they brought a whole lot of fluff with them. As always, if anyone wants to be tagged in a future fic post, please let me know!

Tags: @madamsnape921; @itsjustmyfantasyroom; @prurientpuddlejumper; @thatesqcrush; @raulesparza4eva; @teamsladsandgents; @welcometothemxdhouse

Frederick was awoken by a gentle pressure on his chest and a small wet nose nuzzling his own. His eyes fluttered open to see Buttercup’s furry face gazing back at him. She rubbed her face against his chin.

“Mew?”

“Good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” he said softly to the growing kitten. “I suppose you want breakfast?”

“Mew.”

“Okay then,” Frederick chuckled, giving her a little scratch between her ears. “You’re going to have to move so I can get up and freshen up first.” Buttercup let out a huff, but reluctantly padded down to the end of the bed and sat down.

Now came the hard apart. Frederick cast his eyes to you. You were curled up next to him, still asleep, using him as your pillow with one arm draped across his torso. One of his arms was wrapped around you, making sure that you didn’t drift away from him during the night. And you were still both very naked from the previous night’s activities. Frederick brushed a wisp of hair out of your face with his free hand, and his heart swelled with love when you sighed contentedly in your sleep and a soft smile crept across your lips. The last thing he wanted to do was tear himself away from your side. But if he wanted to feed Buttercup and prepare the final part of your surprise, he was going to have to.

He slowly and carefully extracted himself from your limbs, thanking his lucky stars that you were a sound sleeper. All the while Buttercup was staring him down and flicking her tail impatiently. He moved to the dresser, pulling out a clean pair of briefs, pajama pants, and a t-shirt, and headed to the en-suite bathroom to dress and brush his teeth. When he was done freshening up and dressed, he stepped back out into the bedroom, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Darling! I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Hmm?” You looked up at him through dreamy half-lidded eyes, cuddling Buttercup. “Oh, no, my sweet girl just wanted to cuddle with her mommy, isn’t that right sweetie?” Buttercup just purred and rubbed her head against your cheek.

“Or she’s trying to coerce you into a second breakfast,” said Frederick with a sigh.

“Mew?” Buttercup whipped her head around at the sound of the word “Breakfast”.

“Yes, I’m still going to feed you. Now, come along and let your mother go back to sleep.” Buttercup swiftly stood and leapt from the bed down to the floor. Frederick looked back you lovingly. “I’ve got this, my love, you rest and stay right here. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? For me?” Your eyes went wide. “Frederick, you shouldn’t. You already spoil me far too much.”

Frederick walked to the edge of the bed and cupped your face in his hands. “You, my exquisite angel, deserve to be spoiled every day. And I fully intend to spend the rest of my life doing just that.” His lips found yours, melding perfectly with them, just like always. You moaned into the kiss and grabbed his t-shirt, trying to pull him closer. Frederick chuckled at this and gently pulled away, drawing a whine from you. “There will be plenty of time for that later, my love, but first, your surprise, and believe it or not, Buttercup helped.”

You giggled at that and glanced down at you fur baby. “Oh, did she now?”

“Mew.”

“She did indeed,” answered Frederick, “and I just need you to stay right here and don’t come downstairs, regardless of what you might hear or smell.”

“I’m extremely concerned, but I can do that.” You kissed him one more time. “You and Buttercup go do whatever it is you need to do; I need to use the bathroom.”

Buttercup jumped off the bed as Frederick took your hand helped you stand. He sucked in a breath at the sight of your still naked body, awestruck by your beauty. It didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you made a point of teasing your lover, making it impossible for him to not stare at your ass as you bent over to pick your green silk robe up off the floor.

“Like what you see, Frederick?” You slung the robe over your shoulder and swayed your hips as you sauntered toward the bathroom.

“You minx, you know perfectly well that I can never get enough.”

“Well, I guess you’d better hurry back then.” You gave him a suggestive look over your shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom.

Frederick released a breath and looked down at Buttercup. “Let’s get to work then, shall we?”

*********************

You took your time brushing your teeth and washing your face. You were incessantly curious as to what Frederick and Buttercup were up to. As far as you knew, it wasn’t a special occasion. Not that Frederick needed one as an excuse to spoil you. He did so every chance he got. You did your best to do the same for him. It just seemed odd. The both of you always slept in on Sunday mornings. Even if Buttercup woke you up demanding breakfast, you were usually the one to get up and feed her, always coming right back to the comfort of Frederick’s arms after she was settled. You brushed your hair out and exited the bathroom. You would know soon enough what your dear, sweet man had up his sleeve.

***********************

After putting down fresh food and water for Buttercup, Frederick washed his hands, started brewing a fresh pot of your favorite coffee, and got to work. He had gotten out the waffle iron (and its instruction manual) and set it up on the counter the night before. He began pulling additional items from the cabinets and refrigerator one-by-one: a mixing bowl, waffle mix, a whisk, measuring cups, vegetable oil, eggs, chocolate chips, fresh strawberries, whipped cream, butter, syrup, and non-stick cooking spray. He opened the waffle iron and made sure the heart shaped mold was still securely attached, then closed it, plugged it in, and pushed the button to pre-heat.

He then got to work with measuring and mixing. He followed the instructions on the box of waffle mix, doing everything in the same order that you always did. He even used your method for cracking eggs, counting to three before swiftly cracking the shell on the edge of the bowl. He had been practicing with you for months. You loved waffles, and he had wanted to be able to make them for you. It had started with him observing and taking notes, but you insisted that when it came to cooking, you had to learn by doing. And so, you had given him a task and provided him with plenty of encouragement and praise. And you never yelled or belittled him when he made mistakes. You would always reassure him and the two of you would figure out a way to fix it.

“Mew,” Buttercup interrupted his train of thought. He glanced down and smiled at her, then chuckled as he saw her crouch down, wiggle her backside, then leap from the floor to the countertop.

“You’re getting good at that,” he remarked, “a month ago you still needed a chair to help you get all the way up. You’re getting bigger and stronger every day.”

“Mew,” replied Buttercup. “Mew?”

“Yes, I’m cooking without supervision. It’s all part of our plan to surprise Mommy, remember?”

“Mew?”

“Yes, I know what I’m doing.” Frederick finished whisking the waffle batter and verified that the waffle iron was hot and ready to go. He opened it and carefully and sprayed it with the non-stick cooking spray, and then used a measuring cup to pour the batter into the mold. He then closed the device and flipped it over, activating the built-in timer. He moved to busy himself with slicing up the strawberries while waiting.

“Mew?”

“Yes, I signed your name on the card.”

“Mew?”

“Yes, your gift is all wrapped and hiding in the bedroom closet.”

“Mew, mew?”

“Yes, I know I left my cane upstairs. I’ll be okay without it. And yes, I can get the tray upstairs without dropping it. I practiced while Mommy was at the store yesterday.”

The waffle maker started beeping and Frederick flipped it over and opened it. A heart shaped, golden brown chocolate chip waffle sat in the center of it, and Frederick grinned, quite please with himself. He used a fork to lift it out of the machine and onto a plate. He looked over at Buttercup, who appeared to be rather impressed.

“Not bad for “unsupervised”, eh? What do you say we try another one?”

*********************

You were lounging in bed in the silk pajamas that Frederick had bought you for Christmas, a copy of Jane Austen’s “Northanger Abbey” in hand. Frederick and Buttercup had not yet returned, and your curiosity gnawed at you with every passing moment. Your stomach growled for the umpteenth time. If they didn’t return soon you going to march down into the kitchen and devour whatever you found in the fridge. But then you heard the sound of feet padding steadily up the stairs, and sound of Frederick’s voice telling Buttercup to go on ahead. You put down your book as you saw Buttercup come trotting into the room. She leapt up onto the bed and made herself comfortable in your open arms. You kissed the top of her head and she purred contentedly.

“There’s my sweet baby, did you have fun with Daddy?”

“I would say so, “said Frederick, entering the room with a try of food, coffee, and cranberry juice.

“Frederick, what’s all this?” You sat up as Frederick made his way over to the bed, carefully placing the tray across your lap. Your mouth watered at the sight of the waffles, topped with butter, syrup, strawberries, and whipped cream.

“It’s for you, my love, Happy Mother’s Day,” replied Frederick, kissing your cheek.

“Mother’s Day? But Frederick we don’t- “

“It’s been expanded to include pet moms, and that means you,” said Frederick matter-of-factly. “And Buttercup agrees with me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Mew,” said Buttercup, nuzzling your cheek with her nose.

You felt yourself getting misty eyed, your heart swelling with emotions. “Oh Frederick, thank you, it’s perfect. Now, come here.” You patted the spot next to you and pulled Frederick in for a kiss as he sat down next to you. “I love you, Frederick.”

“I love you, too, darling. Now, dig in.” He indicated the waffles, and you quickly picked the knife and fork and did so.

“Mmm… Frederick these are amazing! You did wonderful job, my love.”

“Thank you, my darling, I had an expert teacher.”

“Mew?” You saw Buttercup eyeing the plate hungrily, licking her chops. You put a small dollop of whipped cream on your finger and held it out to her. She eagerly lapped it up. You giggled and placed another kiss on her head. “Such a silly girl.”

And with that, you settled in, content to enjoy your breakfast and spend the day relaxing with your beloved boyfriend and fur baby.

#storiesofsvuoneyearbingo #frederick chilton #frederick chilton x reader #hannibal #my writing #hannibal fanfiction #cat daddy frederick

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ladyfawkes · 3 years

Text

Eugene Appreciation Week | Day 6: Protect and Sacrifice

Desiderium by @Ladyfawkes and @trekkiehood

Current Chapter 10: Never Surrender

Current word count: 18868

Rated T for graphic descriptions of violence, physical torment, events during a POW setting

Chapter Summary: For the first time since being attacked and abducted, Eugene wakes up.

Chapter 10: Never Surrender

The first time Eugene awoke, he had been turned on his side. Someone had placed the tapered part of a large syringe in his mouth. He gagged on the warm stream of saltwater being actively injected and immediately began vomiting, which in turn yanked and pulled and twisted up all of the severed and injured muscles and tissues just below and to the right of his stomach. It felt as if his guts were on fire and actively trying to push themselves out of the wounds that cursed sword had given him. He tried to bring his arms down to fold them around his wound in front but he’d found his wrists were tightly bound with ropes instead.

“It huuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrts,” he howled mournfully, in earshot of whomever was near. Or at least he would’ve howled, had his cry not cut out halfway through. Only then did he realize how stupid he was to have used his voice. Instantly, he became so drained he started shaking. For he not only unwittingly revealed this weakness to his enemy, the action induced Eugene to use the most injured, raw parts of himself. His reaction, however, had at least been visceral, instinctive, and utterly involuntary; he had no control over it. However, if Eugene thought he’d felt nausea and pain before, that was almost nothing compared to how he’d felt in the here and now.

After Eugene had fallen unconscious, he’d clearly and repeatedly aspirated what little stomach contents he possessed into his lungs and sinuses. A pained groan escaped him regardless; His raw throat and sinuses pulsed with a dull throb in the back of his head every time he tried drawing a breath.

“Believe it or not, I am trying to help,” said a tiny voice beside him. “Sometimes, though, it’s gotta get worse before it can feel better,” continued the voice. Gradually, Eugene’s top half was raised at an angle. The old cloth beneath him soaked with blood and vomit was removed and replaced; the fresh one was folded over several times and placed underneath his nose, mouth, chin, and neck. He was still on his side but was given a bolster to put under his ear and top half of his head as further support at this new elevated angle. His shaking slowed slightly. However, in the back of his mind, Eugene still recalled how precarious was his position. Therefore he could not bring himself to trust this mystery medical person. The captain was still bound at the wrists and ankles, after all. He assumed his boots were long gone. There was no way they’d leave footwear accessible for a prisoner -- especially not one they’d have no intention of ever releasing.

Rather than finding any comfort in what had just been said or done by this funny-voiced person, Eugene stiffened as the syringe wielder injected even more saltwater into each nostril. Though Eugene still choked, coughed, and gagged very violently, the entry-and-exit wounds through his midsection were simultaneously given moderate compression from either side until he’d cleared out the last of the salt water. The compression action alone had diminished his pain, nausea, and the nasty sensation that his guts were spilling out by about 30%. And he didn’t throw up again either. For the time being.

“I would cut your bindings, as they’re so useless and even cumbersome,” mumbled the voice, “but Regis would have us both hanged immediately….” Though Eugene struggled valiantly and tried to become an active information-gatherer like his training demanded, nothing proved to him that he was too far out of his element more than the traumas of this particular interaction. Even his own weakness shocked him. Though the name “Regis” had instantaneously provoked distinct emotions from within.

The mystery person again mopped up Eugene’s face from the deluge of saltwater. “I know that was awful,” commiserated the individual, “but I’m betting your throat and sinuses are no longer killing you. That it’s much less painful to breathe, at least from your neck up?”

Eugene said nothing….and only scowled until he did gingerly test breathing…. and it was indeed far easier and less painful now that the aspirated stomach acid had been cleared away. Buuuuuut he had this permanent stitch now, this ache below his right lung….Eugene seriously wondered whether he would ever breathe deeply again.

“Well, that’s all right, playin’ possum,” said the voice. Can’t say as I blame you, nosiree, captain in the enemy camp and all….” and the person bustled about, chattering aloud to Eugene but mostly to himself. “Oh, and my name is Clarence, my designation here is ‘apothecary’, although my duties compass a great deal more.” Was it just Eugene, or did ‘Clarence’ sound a little bitter? Could this be a rift Eugene could press to his advantage? “This possum skill is good,” the Clarence person rejoined, “because the more ill and unconscious you are, the more put-off Regis will be…..I know since he already walked away once due to being so disgusted by the state of you. You were supposed to have been brought whole and unharmed….and Javeen, Regis’s 2nd, truly learned to regret his actions.”

Eugene’s shivering persisted and worsened although it was clearly a warm day outside. He had no earthly idea how much time had passed since he was first abducted nor how long it had been that he’d worn anything from the waist up due to being stripped down by...Javeen, was it? He guesstimated it had been at least two days since he’d eaten or drank anything...but it felt more like 6 or 7 days because of his injuries. As an orphan, Eugene knew well the ravages of starvation. He’d faced it many times as a child and youth and young adult. And this was….not like that. At all. It was infinitely worse.

Though this small apothecary minding Eugene clearly couldn’t match him in size, he removed and shared his tunic nonetheless. Or at least he attempted to share. “I’ve got on several layers,” mumbled the little man….

“Curse it,” the apothecary finished, as he realized Eugene couldn’t possibly be dressed in normal clothing while still bound at the wrists. And a few seconds later, very abruptly, Eugene’s wrists were blissfully cut free of the ropes that had bound him.

In another wholly involuntary action, Eugene automatically turned from his side to his back, his arms fully separating so his chest could expand and he could breathe in the air his oxygen-deprived body so desperately needed.

The apothecary seemed to have anticipated his needs and again gave Eugene compression so as to minimize the sensation his guts were falling out as he greedily sucked in more and more shuddering lungfuls of air. “Oh deary dear, no wonder that was so difficult for you,” the little apothecary fretted. “Broad chests and large arms do not do well for one’s lung capacity when they’re all mashed together. I can’t imagine Adonais himself could handle his wrists being bound in such a way….”

Breathing in as if it were going out of style was exquisitely painful but this pain was also infinitely worth it. Then Eugene coughed and….it was chunky style, i.e. some of the leftover goodies the syringe hadn’t been able to remove earlier. He turned his head to the side and spat it out. “Good!” said the apothecary. “That’s even better than you getting more air. We need you to cough up all of that junk. And breathe as deep as you can, at all times, even when it hurts.”

Unexpectedly Clarence seized Eugene’s hand and placed it around the cushion he’d been using. “Anytime you need to sneeze, cough, or what-have-you, press the cushion against your midsection. It will help a little. Regis’ll just have to hang me then, he can’t very well have me heal you if you’re gonna go off and die of aspiration pneumonia, nosiree…..”

Heal me in order to hurt me, ugh, thought Eugene. Talk about mixed signals. Now that he was laying on his back, Eugene’s head near the base of his skull started throbbing with the renewed pressure. In spite of himself, Eugene reached up with his left hand and felt the back of his scalp.

Clarence continued bustling about. It was registering through Eugene’s pain-haze that this is the same apothecary that had just given him full use of his hands. Even handed him a projectile. Maybe this guy isn’t what he seems? Eugene considered. Nope. NO. Don’t get lulled by a false sense of security. Considering his wounds and the fact his ankles were still bound, Eugene was basically still immobile anyway, even with full use of his hands and arms. Well, almost full use. If he moved his right arm in a certain way, it tugged all the way down to his worst wound and made him see twinkly pain stars in front of his vision. He determined to keep that arm closer toward him at all times to avoid triggering that horrible lightning twinge. And this meant he couldn’t reach down far enough to slip the ropes off his ankles even if he’d tried. Eugene realized the physician knew exactly what he was talking about by deeming the binds “useless”. His prisoner was going nowhere and this little man knew it.

The physician (Eugene had already substituted ‘apothecary’ in his mind) took note of Eugene’s movements. “Ah yes, I see you’ve discovered the other little 'present' Javeen and his men left for you: that nasty goose egg on the back of your head. I advise against making any more sudden movements? I’d hate to see you vomit again.” Fanfriggentastic. Here was yet another thing that explained to Eugene why he was in such rough shape….Javeen’s men had brained him earlier. Although he couldn’t recall when it happened along with why he’d felt so beat-up and bruised all over, everywhere….those things were still a mystery to him.

The physician did his best to dress Eugene in the too-small tunic of his. Again, he apologized -- APOLOGIZED!! -- for it having been all he’d had on-hand. Ill-fitting though it was, Eugene had finally stopped shivering. Once again, Eugene found second thoughts about this strange little man creeping into his consciousness. Next, the physician had grabbed what looked like a Coronian saddle blanket and draped it around Eugene’s shoulders, offering another layer of warmth. It finally caught up to him regarding what that meant; the physician had handily kept him from slipping fully into shock.

He’d also made dang sure that Eugene could breathe as well as could be expected…..by cutting his binds….and whatever that syringe debacle was…..although the process itself was nightmare-ish, it couldn't be denied that everything had worked as intended. Sometimes things have to get worse before they can feel better. Not to mention the man had gone out of his way to ease Eugene’s pain with that cushion compression trick. Already Clarence had engaged in at least two things that were probably directly against protocol by doing just a tiny bit more than the bare minimum.

Clarence steepled his hands and considered Eugene’s positioning. “I’m gonna need better access to that wound on your back,” he said. “Don’t use any of your own power to help me turn you; I’ll do all of the work. Is that clear?”

Eugene shrank a little at such intense scrutiny paired with the direct order….yet said nothing. It was the most demanding Clarence had been thus far. The apothecary sighed shortly, clearly not taking silence for an answer this time.

“I mean it, Mr. Tough Guy. This is one instance where you must be like a living ragdoll and let me do all the rest. Do you think you can handle that?” Clarence paused briefly, appearing to consider something. Eugene simply stared at him. “You can communicate by whispering. Actual whispering, not sotto voce style. It requires far less lung capacity and is unlikely to cause much pain. I say again, do you think you can trust me? Because if you try to ‘help’ even a little, you could cause those wounds to push outside what’s meant to remain inside.”

“Yes,” Eugene whispered without hesitation. He didn’t know exactly what it was about this interesting apothecary that elicited his trust. And then it occurred to him as Clarence very slowly turned his patient's legs to his left side, encouraging Eugene to breathe through the pain: Clarence cares.

Not to mention….Clarence was right; whispering barely hurt Eugene at all….in complete opposition to when he’d shouted earlier upon first waking.

When Clarence went to turn Eugene from right to left by grabbing his right arm, however, they ran into a semi-unexpected snag. This arm, it appeared, could not be pulled...lest it trigger that nasty stitch Eugene had experienced earlier. So the apothecary took the saddle blanket and refashioned it into a type of jacket-sling so Eugene’s right arm was held secure against his chest; now his patient didn’t have to worry about his right arm being at the mercy of whatever gravity felt like doing with it.

With his free arm, Eugene lightly held the cushion against his gut. Then Clarence managed to carefully and successfully roll Eugene’s upper half onto his left side without any additional complications. Eugene was allowed to rest after all the additional activity. His side without the wounds was naturally far more stable and for the first time since awakening, the mere act of breathing didn’t make him wanna pass out from too much pain. Although it was still comparably arduous and taxing by trying to breathe deeply as instructed. The last time Eugene could recall feeling this helpless was when he had a nasty case of typhus around age 5 or 6 that had nearly killed him.

“Right now, I’m preparing an anesthetic for that wound in your back,” murmured Clarence. The apothecary was using medical terms that until that point in time for which Eugene had had very little use. It made Eugene wish he’d read and paid more attention like Rapunzel.

And mentally conjuring his beloved sweetheart so easily within such a natural context suddenly sent unbidden shockwaves of loneliness, hopelessness, and despair crashing through him. Regis would never release him and Eugene knew it. He’d gone to far too much trouble convincing others that Eugene no longer existed amongst the living. Past the end of his needfulness for this prisoner, the mad king might eventually attempt to use Eugene as bait at a later date. But until then, Eugene was still being secretly held here, wherever ‘here’ was...which had to mean that it was becoming more likely with each passing hour that Javeen’s decoy ruse had worked. That whatever was left after the fire the enemy troops had started, and after Corona’s soldiers watched their own captain get struck down, it was practically a given that nobody from his kingdom was out searching for Eugene right now.

In spite of himself, the back of his still-raw sinuses welled up and started dripping with these instant pent up emotions. He sniffled softly at first but when Eugene pictured himself back in the nursery, rocking Kleisonne and singing their special song….considering that Rapunzel has to sing it now….it was more than he could take. It had already been over two months since the last time he had left them to take up arms at New Old Corona and even though he could see Corona Island from the top of the mountain pass, as captain, Eugene felt as if he might as well have been a million miles away. With so few fighting men, with so few soldiers who’d actually experienced prior sustained combat much less led through it, such inexperienced leadership, and only a rather ancient stockpile of weaponry….(Corona had been at peace for hundreds of years, after all...) Eugene simply could not leave his station under any circumstances….not even to see his family. The kingdom’s needs had been too great….still are too great. Had his father’s battalions arrived yet from the Dark Kingdom? Probably not. Eugene had a feeling he’d be hearing all about it from the apothecary, chatty as he was. But then….but then -- one shining light of realization cut through the pain haze and fear fog….piercing its way through his overwrought mind and body. Rapunzel was actually queen now and thus not at the mercy and whims of what others thought or felt anymore. Not really. And Eugene could sense with absolute certainty that Rapunzel would not rest until she had found identifiable remains by means of incontrovertible proof. And once they found the only clue Eugene had managed to leave behind, Rapunzel’s resolve in finding him would become dang near indestructible. He’d just have to try and find a way to escape -- or more practically, considering his woeful state of being, somehow get word out ASAP so that Corona would still be performing a rescue, not a recovery.

Eugene hissed rather loudly at the sudden harsh stinging sensation emanating from around the wound in his back. The sharp intake of breath had in turn disturbed everything else within Eugene’s predicament. “My apologies,” Clarence spoke out, “I’m usually accustomed to patients who are already unconscious by the time I get to them,” he explained with a hint of nervousness.

Aaaand he’s apologizing again. For unintentionally hurting me. Truly this guy was proving over and over he really wasn’t Regis’s mad scientist henchman. After Clarence was finished with the stinging stuff, he grabbed some type of salve that Eugene was sure he already knew pretty well. Tallow, the same stuff used as a base for candles, also made a great healing and moisturization agent. It sealed the wound away from everything else including dirt and further abrasions.

It was basically how Eugene had avoided having too many scars for so many years, and the one main reason why he appeared completely unscathed, despite all of the bar fights he had been swept up in, and the smaller now invisible wounds he’s had. Although he currently rolled his eyes at his own past vanity by trying to achieve physical perfection with flawless skin. Eugene was certainly gonna have some gnarly scars after this….provided he lived long enough to actually heal from his open wounds and captivity….Eugene inwardly admonished himself to stop thinking morbidly. And to instead be grateful for Clarence and his incomprehensible kindness in such a morbid setting. And if Eugene weren’t already laying down, he would’ve been bowled over by what the apothecary did next. Clarence not only carefully cleaned and applied tallow to every inch of the abrasions those ropes had caused, he covered the red welts on Eugene’s wrists with long knotted-off strips of floursack cloth. It was such an unexpectedly….kind thing to do, to tend to wounds caused by a prisoner’s restraints…..Eugene was momentarily taken aback….and currently lost in thought. And this is when Clarence figured he’d had as good a time as any to crank up the hallucination juice.

Somewhere behind Eugene, something that smelled vaguely of incense and oil started burning nearby and he started coughing. Clarence reminded him about the cushion trick and the coughing sensation eased off and Eugene began to feel oddly and unexpectedly relaxed. His cognitive body functions had largely gone dormant and he was floating in a soft white haze. He felt….groovy. Every once in awhile, lightning streaks of pain might interrupt his dreaming as Clarence, who was not only a good apothecary but a well trained surgeon, worked on sewing up Eugene’s wounds.

Clarence couldn’t have Eugene eat or drink anything prior to surgery so that effectively eliminated anything taken by mouth when it came to easing his patient’s pain at this time. So the apothecary took the one safest route left to him; the psychoactive one. The main problem was that psychoactives didn’t technically knock you out….at least not the ones of which he was in possession.

The surgeon was distinctly worried that even if Eugene had tried to ingest any medicine or even water, it very well would have triggered pain so agonizingly distressful that he wouldn’t be able to stop screaming once it got started. Based on the prior blood and reflux content he’d seen so far, (as well as how his patient had reacted during his first few seconds upon waking) Clarence strongly suspected part of Eugene’s problem was a nasty duodenal tear and that meant high-intensity stomach acid was busy slowly seeping itself out everywhere it wasn’t intended to be, both inside and outside of his patient. Unneutralized stomach acid pouring itself into one’s abdominal cavity was indeed Not Good at All, especially since that includes everything else that regularly accompanies stomach acid. Clarence's plan was to be as hands-off as possible. He'd witnessed far too many patients die of resulting infection directly caused by a surgeon's brash (and yes, stupid) tendency to just dig around in open wounds. Clarence still didn't know if his patient needed to be sewn up all the way or if drainage sites needed to be packed as he healed.

All things considered, this “enemy” captain shouldn’t even be conscious. Eugene had to be practically dying of thirst and yet he wasn’t complaining. Here he was, on this makeshift exam/surgery platform, high as a kite, tripping aloud about fluffy purple bunnies wearing watermelon hats. Or was it purple watermelons wearing pink bunny hats? Whatever that meant, thought Clarence, with some amusement.

Clarence seemed to have an internal immunity against the “incense oil” he was burning for his patient’s sake. He was both annoyed and grateful for said immunity. He also fervently hoped this patient would stay distracted long enough with pleasant hallucinations in order for Clarence to do what he needed. It wasn’t like him to operate on a patient without explaining everything thoroughly, but he was hoping against hope that by subtracting another layer of self-awareness, it might somehow help Eugene stay distracted even longer. Besides, you can’t rightly swallow much of anything when it’s just going to…..leak back out such a nasty hole in your vital organs. Above all else, the young captain needed that tear repaired as quickly as possible.

Real things about world history discovers/innovations: When 'syringe' is mentioned here, it's not like a hypodermic needle or even an oral medication syringe. The size of syringes in the 18th century were more the size range of a can of spray deodorant on up to a large can of hair spray.

“Okay, Captain Fitz-Humpty-Dumpty, let’s try and put you back together again, shall we?” murmured the surgeon to himself, as he took one last glance at his overstocked supply of incense oil.

@gleamful-lanterns @kingreywrites @autumn-ravenclaw

A/N: In order to keep this an element of realism in this historical setting, you can imagine the amount of research that went into building this single chapter. Medicine was taking some monumental strides starting in 16th century (1500s) onward.

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moonlitwings1 · 3 years

Text

Icing on Top

Christmas cookies were a tradition in the Mayfield house, and Max isn’t going to let two obnoxious Hargrove men ruin it this year. They didn’t do it the year before because someone thought that cookies would be bad for his cholesterol. Old man problems, Max thinks. If Neil doesn’t want his cholesterol to increase or whatever, why doesn’t he just not eat cookies. Seems simple enough to her.

Thankfully, Neil’s not here right now. He’s with her mom going last minute Christmas shopping. She could’ve gone with them, but she doesn’t have anymore money to buy anything, spent it all on the arcade last week. She’s just going to give Neil and her mom cards, same as last year. Thank you for being the best mom! Max internally cringes. It sounds so fake every time she writes it. It’ll be even worse to write one for Neil. For Billy...well, she doesn’t know what he likes besides music and being an asshole, so he’ll get a card too.

She doesn’t believe in Santa anymore. Stopped believing when Billy ruined that for her literally the day they met. Laughed in her face and told her she was stupid for not realizing her mom’s the one who puts the presents under the tree. She remembers going to her mom and crying because the new boy just told her Santa’s not real. Turns out, when you stop believing in Santa, you also stop getting gifts from him. So for a couple years now, Max has only gotten one gift under the Christmas tree instead of two like she used to. No more presents from Santa, but at least Neil was happy about that. He said that he never thought this Santa business was any good for kids. False idols or whatever. Religious shit she doesn’t care about. Neil acts like he’s oh so religious, but they go to church about five times a year, and the entire time Neil’s only focused on Billy, who is doing everything in his power to annoy Max.

Well, tomorrow’s Christmas and her mom bought a horrible red dress with little white fluff across the edges, the same kind she’s seen too many little girls wear. She’ll have to convince her mom not to let her wear that. Later. Right now, she has a different focus, cook book stuffed underneath her arm as she searches for the ingredients.

“Flour, sugar, baking soda, butter, eggs,” she mutters under her breath, repeating the ingredients to herself over and over again. Sounds easy enough. She’s never made cookies by herself before, but wherever Neil is, her mom is, and she doesn’t want Neil to get in the way of her Christmas festivities, as he likes to call them. So for now, she’s going to have to figure out how to do this by herself. She’s definitely not allowed to use the oven without an adult, but tonight, she’s planning to prove that she’s not a fucking child.

She had just gotten started on the wet ingredients when she hears the back door slam shut, making her flinch hard. You’ve got to be fucking kidding. They haven’t even been gone for ten minutes. Neil must’ve forgotten something. She thinks she’s screwed and frantically starts hiding the bowls when she realizes those steps were far too heavy and obnoxious to be Neil’s. Max almost lets out a sigh of relief when Billy struts into the kitchen. He’s an asshole, but at least he’s not Neil.

She doesn’t know where he went, probably went to hang out with some girl like he always tells Neil, but she swears the cologne he’s wearing smells vaguely similar to the one Steve had on the other day. Maybe they’re friends now? Nah. Must be some new popular teen cologne, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She won’t give it much more attention.

“The fuck are you doing?” he asks, the scarred eyebrow lifting. He sounds more interested than angry.

“Making cookies. Go away,” she spits before turning her back to him and bringing her focus back to the wet ingredients.

He hums, amused like he always is when he’s annoying her, “Don’t think you’re supposed to be making anything by yourself, Maxi.”

She pauses what she’s doing, closes her eyes, and lets out a long sigh, tries to control her temper. “I’m not a fucking child, Billy. Go away,” she repeats. “I can handle it. And don’t call me that.”

He peers over her shoulder to look at what she’s making. She tries to ignore him, but she can literally feel him breathing down her neck, and he’s standing way too fucking close to her. She knows he’s doing it on purpose.

“Maaaax,” he whispers.

She continues ignoring him, mixing the bowl furiously, but after another minute of Billy just standing behind her, he snorts like somethings funny. And that pisses her off because nothing’s funny right now. He’s just an asshole who’s ruining her Christmas.

So without warning, she spins around, slams two hands into his chest and pushes him as hard as she can (which isn’t saying much, but she’s not going to admit that). Billy didn’t see that coming. She can tell because he actually stumbles a little bit. So she doesn’t stop there, tries to push him out of the kitchen completely before he regains himself. She wasn’t fast enough.

When he realizes what she’s trying to do, he laughs. It’s not even the scary laugh that he made while beating up Steve last year. He’s laughing at her. The fucking asshole’s making fun of her, and it does nothing to soothe her frustration. This time, she aims a slap at his face, but he catches her wrist before she could do anything. She gasps aloud because ow that stung.

“Ouch, you jackass! That fucking hurt!”

She starts hitting him with her left hand, gets in a few good hits before he snatches that one away too. If he were any closer, she would bite his wrist. She considers kicking him in the dick, but he must see what she’s thinking because he spins her around and bear hugs her from behind, trapping her arms to her side. They’re both panting now, but one from exertion and one from laughter.

“Jesus Christ, Maxine,” he laughs. “I didn’t fucking do anything to you. The hell blew your fuse?”

“Stop laughing,” she huffs, struggling in his arms and trying to glare at him, because he still has a sleazy grin plastered on his face. She can fucking hear it in his voice. “And get off of me!”

“You cool?”

She’s totally not cool, but she’s not going to tell him that. “Yes I’m fucking cool.”

“You su-”

“YES IM SURE, BILLY.”

He chuckles one more time before letting her go. “Whatever you say, Maxi-pad.”

She decidedly ignores his comment and rubs her shoulder from where his arm pressed into hers. “Can you leave now?”

“Not until you tell me what you’re making.”

“I already said cookies.”

“What kind?” Max knows he’s not actually interested in her cookies. He just wants to find a reason to bug her longer.

“Sugar. What else would I make for Christmas, dumbass.” She’s lucky he doesn’t immediately attack her for calling him ‘dumbass.’ She probably shouldn’t push it anymore.

“I want you out of the kitchen in an hour,” he snaps, “And you better not burn this house down.” He strides out of the room before she can reply but not before giving her a stony look that warns of death. Asshole.

Alone at last. Even if Billy’s home, it’s not like he’s going to leave his room anytime soon. He’ll lock himself in there and stay put for hours. She wonders what he does in there for so long and slightly winces when his music starts vibrating through the house. Max lets out a long sigh. She forgot about that. He usually doesn’t put it too loud when Neil’s home.

She tries to block out the music and focus on the task at hand. Do they have any more eggs?

---

Twenty minutes later, Max is staring at the oven proudly, hands on her hips. The cookies are currently baking, and she has a good feeling about them. They’re not pretty, and they’re oddly shaped (since they don’t have any cutouts), but she’s sure they’ll come out ok. She’s not, however, looking forward to cleaning up the entire kitchen. Its a mess, bowls everywhere, and the hand mixer is dripping onto the floor, but she can clean it up later, preferably before Billy comes out of hibernation and screams at her about it. But for now, she deserves a fucking break.

She heads off towards her room, and lounges around for ten minutes, looking through some comics, while waiting for the cookies to finish.

Things were going so well. So fucking well until the fire alarms starts blaring and makes Max jump out of her skin. She hears Billy’s music suddenly shut off. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

She’s too scared to move. She doesn’t move when she hears loud footsteps walking towards the kitchen, and she doesn’t move when the fire alarm stops ringing. She definitely doesn’t move when those loud footprints start getting increasingly louder, coming closer to her room. She’s going to die. She’s going to be murdered by her own brother. She shoots a quick prayer to whatever god out there that maybe she’ll survive this one long enough, so she can tell her mom goodbye.

Her door bursts open.

“MAXINE.” She recoils from his voice.“ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?”

When she doesn’t say anything, his voice goes deathly quiet. “I leave you alone for barely an hour, and you manage to fuck it all up.”

Max still doesn’t say anything. She imagines she looks like a deer in headlights because she’s totally frozen, sitting on her bed just staring at him. It must piss him off though because he starts towards her. Thankfully, something turns on in her brain and she immediately goes and stands on the other side of the bed where he can’t easily reach her.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m not going to do shit to you,” he says, running a hand over his face. When she still doesn’t move, utterly unconvinced, he continues. “I just want you to see what a bang up job you did of making those fucking cookies, so get out here.”

She’s still not totally convinced, but if she stays there any longer, he might try to drag her out himself so she’s just got to suck it up. She moves cautiously towards the door, side-eyeing Billy to see if he’s going to pounce, but he doesn’t.

Thank God nothing besides the cookies were burnt. If anything was actually damaged, she wouldn’t even be alive right now.

“I-I don’t know what happened, Billy. I literally followed the recipe so don’t try to blame me for this,” she snaps, turning around to glare at him.

He scoffs at her. “What happened,” he growls, grabbing the open cookbook and stabbing a finger into the page, “is that you didn’t read the fucking directions correctly and set the oven at 450 degrees instead of 350 degrees.”

Max looks at where he’s pointing and her spirit drops when she realizes that he’s right. It says right there, Preheat the oven to 350°F. She internally curses herself. How did she not see that? If she had just paid attention, she wouldn’t be in this mess.

He watches her reaction and snorts. “Someone can’t read,” he says, and reaches out to ruffle her hair. She tries to slap his hand away, but it just makes him ruffle her hair harder.

“Now clean-” But before he could complete his sentence, Max storms out of the kitchen, taking a wide turn around Billy so there’d be a smaller chance that he’d try to grab her.

When she looks over at him though, it doesn’t look like he was going to anyway. She doesn’t know why he’s like this, why he always switches emotions every two seconds. Five minutes ago, he had barged into her room, murderous, and she was sure she was going to die. Now? Now he’s fucking joking with her. He literally just ruffled her hair like she’s his sister. She hates it. Why can’t he just be normal?

She slams the door behind her and locks it as she walks in. Thankfully, Neil still hasn’t taken away her lock like he’d done for Billy, so she still has a semblance of privacy. She’s almost in tears, and she doesn’t know why. She’s just...frustrated. The sound of heavy footsteps come her way, and she immediately dives under her covers, pulling the duvet up and over her head. She’s embarrassed from her stupid mistake that Billy will inevitably make fun of her for. Thinking about it just makes more tears sting the corner of her eye. She wants to be left alone, but Billy’ll never let that happen.

He pounds on the door. “Maxine, open up.”

She doesn’t answer, digging her head into her pillow harder. Maybe if she ignores him, he’ll leave. In the back of her head, she knows that that’s not what’s going to happen.

"Hey shitbird, get your ass out here,” he says again, back to asshole mode and pounding harder on the door. “Did ya see the fucking kitchen? You better clean that shit up before Susan and Neil come home.”

She still doesn’t say anything.

“Max,” his voice goes deadly quiet, “if you don’t get your ass out in the next ten seconds, I’m going to-”

“GO AWAY BILLY! I JUST WANTED TO MAKE COOKIES WITHOUT ANYONE BOTHERING ME FOR ONCE AND YOU JUST HAVE TO GO AND RUIN ANYTHING!”

“You ruined that shit for your-”

“Leave me alone, Billy.” Her voice cracks when she says his name, and he must hear it because he does. She knows she’s going to have to clean the kitchen up eventually, but she can’t bring herself to right now. Maybe it’s because she’s going to start her period any second, or maybe it’s because Billy’s just a jerk, but she feels abnormally upset. Unreasonably miserable. Billy’s antics don’t usually put her in this bad of a mood, and she feels stupid for letting it.

Ten minutes later, she hears him stomping around the house and the jingle of keys. The back door slams shut, and she knows he just left the house, probably to cool himself down before he actually murders her.

She’s alone.

----

Max wakes up startled from her nap with the sound of someone picking at her lock. She looks around widely for the time. An hour has passed, who’s-

The door burst open, and there stands a triumphant looking Billy. “HAH,” he shouts. “I’ve opened the door!”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. He sounds more stupid than usual. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t see him with a smile on his face very often.

“What are you doing?” she asks cautiously because she doesn’t want to accidentally piss him off.

“Come out here,” he says. Oh, not this again. She huffs and plops her face right back into the pillow, turning to her side so she’s facing away from the door. She’s not dealing with this again. If she wants to be locked up in her room, why can’t she?

“Max,” he calls, walking closer to her. “Get up, I’ve got stuff for you.” That peaks Max’s interests, and she raises her head a little, getting annoyed when she sees the smirk on Billy’s face. He knew saying that would get her to pay attention.

“What?”

“I’m not telling you until you get up,” he says, tugging at her blanket now. She smacks his hand away, and plops her head right back down.

“Then I’m not getting up. You’re literally the fucking grinch so it’s not like it’s going to be anything good anyways.”

He laughs at that. “So if I’m the grinch, who are you? Cindy fucking Lou Who?”

Max covers her smile with the duvet. “Just tell me what you got.”

“Nope,” Billy says and walks his annoying ass straight out of her room.

She decides to stay in bed, refuses to give in to Billy’s obvious plan to get her to come out of her room. But curiosity catches up to her when she hears him banging around the kitchen, and five minutes later, she’s dragging herself out from under the covers and walking into the room. She stops when she catches Billy red handed, literally, with two of his fingers dipped into a small bowl of red icing.

When he sees her watching, he grins at her, teeth stained red and gross. “Oh hey there Maxine. Didn’t see ya there. I’m really enjoying this lovely frosting,” He waggles his fingers at her for emphasis. “Better take it away from me before I eat it all.”

He’s about to double dip his nasty fingers into the frosting again before Max can’t help herself and has to cut in.

She runs up to him and smacks his hand away. “Oh my God. Billy, that’s literally so unsanitary. Give it here.” She takes the can of frosting from him, and mumbles you’re so gross under her breath. The cover of the can features pretty sugar cookies all covered in red frosting and sprinkles. If only she still had her stupid cookies. Now they’re at the bottom of the trash can, all black and burnt.

“Why’d you buy this anyway? Not like I’m gonna be using them anymore.”

Billy drums his fingers on the counter. “It’s so you can decorate your little cookies,” he says. “You’re lucky I’m craving sugar right now.” She hasn’t properly decorated cookies since California when she was with her dad. It might not seem like a big deal to him, but she’s getting excited over it. He can probably tell by the smile that has just spread across her face.

“I’m giving you a second chance, so don’t fucking screw this up. You hear me?” he’s glaring at her now, all threats and ager. Of course, he immediately tries to ruin the moment.

“So you’ll let me make them again?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they come out shit again, though. You can’t cook to save your life.”

She huffs. Totally not true. “We don’t have any more butter though.”

He pats the plastic bag on the counter. “’s all in here.”

She looks over at the bag he touched. So is that where he went while she was sleeping?

“You went to the store?”

He grunts in response. “Figured you’d need more shit after your first failed attempt.”

“Ok, thanks,” she says, already making a grab for the hand mixer. “You can leave now.”

“Ungrateful ass,” he snorts. “Last time I left, you burnt the fucking cookies and set off the fire alarm so I don’t think so.”

Max sighs. “So what? You’re just gonna stand there?”

He smirks at her, leaning against the counter. “Hand me the mixer.”

---

Apparently Billy’s good at baking because ten minutes later he has all the ingredients combined and the dough rolled out on the table. She didn’t roll out the dough during her attempt so it makes sense now why her cookies were ugly even before they got burnt.

They only bickered a couple times. Once because Max questioned him about how he smells suspiciously like Steve. She didn’t expect him to get so defensive, but he immediately snapped at her and told her not to get into other people’s business. His defensiveness made her think that him and Steve were friends now, and he’s just embarrassed to admit it. Or maybe they’re...more? When she suggested that though, he nearly shoved her head into the dough so that’s going to be the last time she investigates on that.

The second time, they bickered over whether or not they should add food coloring to the dough. I payed good money for this, shitbird, so we’re using it. They eventually decided to make different batches, some with dye and some without.

“Do we need to cut them into circles now?”

“The fuck are you thinking? Circles are boring.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Oh I’m ever so sorry for offending you, master baker Billy,” she says sarcastically. “What do you suggest we do to spice up this atrocious dough.”

Billy points his head towards the plastic bag. “Look in there, junior baker Maxine.”

She reaches out for the magical plastic bag. It’s already given her butter and red frosting. What else could be in there? Her entire face lights up when she sees a can of green frosting, four different cookie cutters, and so many sprinkles.

“Consider this your Christmas present because you’re not going to get anything else.”

She gapes at him. He’s never done anything nice to her in her entire life. Ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s definitely a once in a blue moon occasion.

“Thank you,” she says, still gaping at him. She doesn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah well stop staring at me like that.” He reaches across and flicks her mouth shut. “And close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, but stares down at the plastic bag again. She’ll decorate a cookie for her mom. A red one with green sparkles. She wonders if Billy’ll decorate one for his dad. Probably not. Guess he’ll go cookie-less. Better for his cholesterol anyways.

Her thoughts are disrupted when Billy’s fingers smudge bright, red, frosting across her face. She flinches and tries to shove him off but he does it again, icing smeared across both cheeks now.

“You asshole,” she laughs, reaching inside the plastic bag and pulling out the green frosting. “You’re so on.”

By the end of their frosting battle, they’re both covered in red and green icing. At one point Billy even started showering her with sprinkles. It’ll take forever to get it out of her hair, and there’s barely any frosting left for the cookies, but there was just enough to make it last.

Their parents were appalled when they walked in on their children covered in sugar, but it was worth it. Neil wasn’t even that upset since her mom was seemed happy enough. Susan followed them around with a camera, trying to convince them to pose together. You guys look so cute! C’mon just one picture. They retreated to their rooms to hide.

Max ended up with two Christmas presents under the tree that year.

#billy and max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #harringrove #for that one line where max smells steves cologne on him #theyre TOTALLY just friends max #i wouldnt be surprised if theres some grammatical errors hiding in there #i hope you guys like it!#merry christmas! :)

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parkmuse · 4 years

Text

Not So Honest (M)

Word Count: 9322 (Reposted) (Wonhopes Masterlist)

Jungkook has got a pretty BIG problem, and he desperately asks you for your help.

cr.

Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong! Dingdongdingdongdingdon-

You let out a heavy sigh, pausing your show as you get up from the couch to answer the door. That annoying repetitive doorbell rings could only come from one person.

“YAH! Where’s your fucking keys you brat-“ You stop mid-sentence from yelling at him because your eyes catch onto the large package he’s struggling to hold along with a mountain of grocery bags in his hands.

“Yeah, I forgot them this morning and remembered once I was at the store. By the way, this was at the doorstep-“ You immediately snatch it out of his grasp, twirling around as you let go of the door and let it slam back in his face. You run to the table, squealing as you set it down to try and go look for something to open it with. “My package arrived!”

You hear the front door rattle a few times before its shoved open again, him struggling to get all the bags in as he forces the door closed with a bang. “What the fuck Y/N? And I don’t even get a thank you for picking that up for you?”

“I didn’t ask for your help, Jungkook,” You replied, waving him off before you walked back over to your package.

You’ve been waiting a whole two weeks for another one of these Amazon packages. You did a little contract with some sellers there that you would test out their products for free and give your honest review in return that you get free samples of the items. So far you’ve gotten blenders, make up, wireless head phones, even a decent cellphone all for free. And all you had to do was type up a quick, honest review with the pros and cons of the product that took less than 5 minutes, then you could enjoy all your free shit. Did I say free already?

“What’s in the package? Another crappy phone?” Jungkook yells from the kitchen, placing all the food in their designated locations. You let out another heavy sigh before responding to him. “Why do you care? Go hangout with Jimin and suck each other’s dicks or something.”

“You’re just jealous cause I could probably get more dick or actually scratch that, any dick at all compared to you if I really wanted to.” You shot him a glare and he smirks, then sticks his tongue out before placing the milk in the fridge.

God, you hated that brat. You’ve hated him for so many years, basically all of your life since you’ve known each other since elementary. Your parents were great friends so you always had to hang out with him when you would go to each other’s houses, dealing with him pulling your hair and stealing all your food and toys from you almost three times a week. Once you hit high school you were even forced to baby sit him even though you were only two years older, but his parents baby him so much and think he’s not fit to stay alone in his own damn home that they’d throw him over at yours.

Even now, as two damn grown adults you are still stuck with him, forced to share an apartment since you two go to the same college because his parents don’t trust him alone or with strangers. It was a living nightmare since you basically had no privacy with this brat, always meddling in your stuff and your life and him walking out of his room practically naked every damn day. Sure, he’s grown up really well, and he’s always been cute I guess, but holy hell he gets on your nerves so much he’s lost the on chance that you would ever find him attractive. The only upside to this is that you get help paying rent, but honestly you think you’d rather live on the streets than be with this annoying kid.

At least your annoyance will be at its minimal today, too excited to let him cloud your day when you got more cool free shit-

“What the fuck?” You spit, eyes bugged and jaw dropped once you comprehend exactly what Amazon just sent to you.

“What? Another flip phone or some shit- woah,” Jungkook’s eyes widened as well once he peeks over your shoulder to see what the big deal was.

Sex toys.

Not one, not two.

A whole box full.

There were different kinds of toys like vibrators and silicone dicks in all the colors you could possibly imagine. You didn’t even know what half the shit in that box was either; there were weird looking eggs to obscure shaped things you assumed were supposed to replicate a dick but had an extended side that you couldn’t figure out what it was actually intended to do. You pulled out a box and on the cover read Sassy Anal Beads in fancy cursive lettering, finally making you lose your patience.

“Why the fuck would they send me this shit!?” You huffed, tossing the stuff back in the box. You had no use for any of this. Sure, they could keep you company since you were single as hell but you really wished they would have sent you something way more useful.

“Maybe they knew you needed it— OW!” Jungkook yelps as you punch him in the chest. He pouts as he clutches onto his pecs but you just roll your eyes.

“Shut up, you deserved it.” You walk back to the couch and plop on it with a sigh, resuming your TV show.

“Aren’t you supposed to review all this shit?” He says, digging through some more of the box as he pulls an unrealistic sized purple dildo.

“I’m not going to bother. I’ll just say they were all shitty or something,” You say as you bring your feet up to the coffee table.

“Well that’s not really fair. You have to give your honest opinion. What if King Cock Deluxe deserves five stars?” He snickers, waving it over in front of your face.

You scrunch your face in disgust, “Stop being gross.”

He laughs and tosses it back in the box, then pulls out another item. “What the hell is this thing?”

You see him examining it in his hands, his face scrunching up in confusion. It was small and black, a ring attached to the end and the top having two protruding bumps.

You’ve actually heard of that one before from one of your girl friends who was gushing all about it. It was a rabbit designed cock ring, the two ends from the top was actually a vibrator so when you had sex the “rabbit ears” would stimulate your clit. Your friend said although it looked really ugly it really did the trick, but her boyfriend never liked using it because it was way too tight on him.

“It’s a cock ring,” You said unamused, standing up to walk over to the kitchen.

“Cock ring?” Jungkook responded, still sounding confused as ever.

“Did I stutter?” You said, digging through the pantry.

“Does it make you feel really good or something?”

You turn back to face him so you can yell at him for asking so many questions, but stopped once you saw his face. He was still looking at the toy, examining it in his hand intensely.

A small smile crept on your lips, and you’re glad he was still too focused on the toy in his hands to see. “Yeah Jungkook, it makes you feel real good.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, but quickly replaces his surprise with a lazy smirk. “Yeah right, this free shit would never work.” He tosses the toy back into the box.

You snicker at his response. How has he never heard of a cock ring? Was he that inexperienced? Jungkook’s a grown man, but you’ve always seen him as the little brat next door. “I mean, I heard that got a lot of positive feedback for being one of the best sex toys out there. Men go crazy about it,” You chimed in, continuing to tease him.

“That piece of rubber? Bullshit.” He walks back into the kitchen, throwing some more groceries into the fridge. After a couple of minutes of silence and fixing up the kitchen, Jungkook speaks up again.

“I mean, what does it even do? How is it that good?”

“I don’t know, but must be pretty amazing.” You were getting kind of tired of your little white lie, and his constant repetitiveness of the topic was staring to annoy you. Before he was about to speak up again you interrupted him.

“Jungkook! I told you to buy some more damn cereal!” You whack him on the back of the head and he groans.

“I got most of the stuff on the list!” He pouts.

“You had one job kid, and now we got milk and no cereal.” You huff, walking over to grab your purse. “I always have to do things on my own around here. I’ll be back in a bit.” You grab your keys and walk out the door.

You finally made your way back home after being stuck in traffic for a good thirty minutes just for some cereal. Damn that Jeon kid for forgetting one measly thing.

You were starving since you hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and you were too lazy to cook anything so why not just have some cereal? You walk to the kitchen to pull out a bowl, opening the box of Frosted Flakes and filling it up to the brim. You walk over to the fridge to grab the milk, opening the door. You were met with nothing but water bottles on the top shelf and some groceries at the bottom. Confused, you looked all over the sides and in the drawers. There was a whole carton before you left and now it disappeared!

Then it clicked in your head. Your eyebrows crinkled and you let out a heavy sigh, closing the fridge. “JUNGKOOK!”

That damn kid always brings the carton of milk into his room, sometimes drinking it straight out of the container. You hated sharing food with him for this very reason, and you should really get him to stop drinking that shit because he’s getting way too big for his own good.

You waited for a good minute just to give him mercy, but by now he should have answered you, walking out of his room with a yeah, yeah as he brings the carton back out.

But there was complete silence.

You groan, walking down the hall to where your bedrooms were. He better have a good ass explanation for why he hasn’t answered you by now. You twist the knob and roughly push the door open. “Where’s the fucking milk Jungkook?!”

You pause at the door, making eye contact with a seemingly alarmed Jungkook. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed faced away from you, shirtless again, head turned with his eyes wide and his mouth slightly ajar. He looks like a deer in the headlights, his hand clutching onto the sheets crumpled beside him.

“You’re just sitting there doing nothing but didn’t bother answering me?” You thought it was a little weird, but quickly brushed it off.

“Um—well, I—“ Before he can give you an explanation, your eyes catch the item you were looking for at the night stand beside where he was sitting.

“There it is, I fucking knew it!” You strode over to the carton.

“NO! DON’T COME HERE!” He hollers, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“Whoa no need to yell, what’s on your dick?”

“N-NOTHING! Just…go to the store and get more! This is my milk!”

You could have sworn you felt a vein pop out of your temple at his remark. “I just came from the damn store! That’s a brand new carton! And my milk your ass I paid for that!”

You were seriously getting tired of him. When will you finally be able to get away from him? 5 years? 10 years? Are you really going to have to spend the rest of your life with this brat?

You don’t even know why you’re listening to him at the moment. You can do whatever you want, he can’t stop you. You continue to make a beeline to your milk, running past him to grab it and run out. Your feet catches onto his blanket, causing you to trip over and onto the floor in front of him with a loud thump.

You groan on the floor, pushing the sheet off of you and sitting up as you rub your head. You turn your head to look at a mortified Jungkook, completely colorless as he stares back at you in complete fear and embarrassment. Confused, you were about to ask what his problem was but your eyes flicked south.

A mere inches from your face was his dick in his hand, semi hard and just…all out there. What definitely made your jaw drop was that right at the base was a familiar looking object, black with bunny ears sticking out at the top.

You covered your mouth, embarrassed to have caught him in the act but also trying so hard not to laugh in front of his face because you cannot believe he’s actually doing this.

“Y/N, I-I can explain-“

You get up on your feet and grab the milk from the night stand, walking straight to the door avoiding eye contact with him. “No need to Kook, pretty self-explanatory. You have fun with that!”

You just wanted to get out of there as quick as possible before it could get even more awkward, but he calls out to you, making you stop.

“No wait! Don’t go! I-Um…”

“If you think I’m going to sit here and watch you jack off you have another thing coming-“

“NO! It’s not that! Why the fuck would I ask you that? I’m not some sicko.”

“Says the one with a bunny cock ring on his dick-”

“OKAY! You got me there,” He sighs. “But I was just curious! What was so good about this piece of plastic? And then I put it on a-and…”

“And what?” It probably didn’t feel good as he expected it to. Hell, it’s supposed to be the complete opposite.

“Well, it’s kind of…kind of stuck.”

A few seconds of silence pass as you comprehend what he just said, then you burst out laughing. He jumped in his seat, surprised by your reaction but then gives you a glare and a pout. “Why are you laughing?!”

You grab onto your sides, tears coming out of your eyes. You just can’t control yourself. This dumb kid has a sex toy stuck on him and he can’t get it off.

“Y/N!”

“I’m sorry! It’s just so…so hilarious. Wow.” You wipe the tears from your cheeks as the last bits of chuckles come spewing out.

“It’s not funny! It won’t come off…a-and it really hurts.”

You can hear the pain in his voice and for a second you actually felt bad for him. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him that much.

But then again, he deserves it.

“Well, seems like you got a real problem on your hands. I’ll leave ya to it.” You say as you start walking out the door.

“Y/N WAIT! You have to help me!”

You turn back to face him, your brows knitting in confusion. “And why do I have to do that?”

“Please Y/N, you know I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t mean it.”

You stare at him for a moment, taking in his facial features. You were a couple of feet away from him but from there you could see the tears threatening to fall from his big doe eyes. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, probably to stop it from quivering in front of you. His broad shoulders visibly shook, and you sigh. He must really be in pain.

“Please, Noona.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by his response. He hasn’t called you Noona for years. The last time he called you that was years ago, during a small phase where he was actually really sweet and nice to you. You actually loved that Jungkook back then, but then he went a full 180 on you and went back to being a brat.

You bite your lip, contemplating on what to do. He winces in pain and lets out a long drawn out whimper, which immediately shot to your core. What the fuck?

You don’t know what overcame you but you had the sudden urge to touch him.

What the hell were you thinking?

You just want to help him, that’s all.

You let out a heavy sigh, then placed the milk on the TV stand, proceeding to walk over to him. “Fine, let’s just get this over with. I don’t want your parents to blame me for not watching you and you coming home dickless.”

His eyes light up in admiration for you, excited to finally be free of this dumb torture-like pleasure free device. You stop in front of him, sitting on your knees as you push his legs apart to get a better look.

Surprisingly, Jungkook didn’t have a micro penis like you thought he had all these years. It was actually really, really generous, probably one of the biggest you’ve seen. No wonder this kid had a big ego.

“Alright, let’s see what we got.” As awkward as this was supposed to feel, it didn’t feel as weird as you thought it would. Why did it feel normal to be on your knees in front of Jungkook’s dick? You honestly didn’t want to think about why other than the fact that you’ve known him all your life and being naked in front of each other probably isn’t a big as a deal as you would imagine. You guys used to bathe naked all the time; that counts for something right?

“Wow Kook, you got it lodged pretty good. How the fuck did you get that all the way up there?” You stared at the small device, tightly clenching the base of his shaft.

“I-I thought it was supposed to hurt in the beginning, and then it would feel good later. That’s how sex is for girls, right?”

You snorted. “Does it look like you have a vagina, Jungkook? I mean maybe you will after your dick falls off-“

“Stop!” He whines, pouting at you. “Don’t say that! I would die without my dick.”

“That actually sounds like a good plan, maybe we should leave it then-“ He grabs your hands in his, squeezing them tightly as you were about to sit up again.

“Y/-Noona, please, please help me. I’ll be good to you from now on. I won’t be a brat anymore if you help me. Just…please.”

He softly caresses the back of your hand, looking at you again like a lost puppy.

Was Jungkook really being obedient right now? He seems like he would do anything for you, listened to anything you said. He seemed so…submissive.

You unintentionally licked your lips, but immediately came back to your senses. It was really getting hot in here and your hands were starting to sweat.

You ripped your hands away from him. “Okay, okay. Jeez.” You played it off like you weren’t phased by what he said and his sudden new name for you. You just needed to get this shit off of him and then you could finally eat. Starving yourself is definitely not good for your head.

You take in a deep breath, then reach for him. You didn’t want to bother addressing the elephant in the room, the surprisingly pretty big elephant in the room, because you didn’t want to make this even more awkward as it is. Asking if you could touch his dick would probably make this situation even worse, so you’re just gonna do what you need to do.

You grasp onto the base of his shaft where the toy is, tugging it forward in attempts to take it off.

“OW!” Jungkook yelps, grabbing your wrist. “You’re hurting me!”

“I barely even touched you brat, suck it up.” You whip your hand away from him, bringing it back to the toy.

He really got himself into a real mess here. There’s barely any space between the toy and his dick. Did he really think this wasn’t going to happen?

You attempt to pull at it again while your hand rested on his abdomen. You didn’t expect Jungkook’s abs to be so defined and rock solid under your fingertips, but you quickly brushed the thought away while you focused on the situation at hand.

When you pulled, the toy stayed put and your hand ended up grasping through the rest of his length to the tip, leaving you empty handed. You cupped the toy again, firmly pressing against his stomach while you pulled again, only to bring your hand against him again without the toy. You hear him whimper under your touch but again you don’t let it get to you, thinking he’s just being a little wuss about the pain again. After another attempt of tugging it off and your hand unintentionally grasping his length, you accidentally squeeze the end of his tip, feeling the warmth on your fingertips.

All of a sudden Jungkook lurches forward, putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing tightly. His face is a few inches away from yours, his heavy pants tickling your face.

“Noona,” He chokes out.

You look up at him to see his adam’s apple bob, licking his partly chapped lips as he lets out open mouthed pants while his other hand clutches the bed sheet. You could see him breaking a sweat down his temple, looking so fucking hot for some strange reason but then something breaks your thoughts.

You feel a pulse under your touch, and you realize you’re still grasping his tip. You look down to see his dick erect, the tip partly red as you slowly feel the palm of your hand get wet. You slowly open your hand to see pre-cum leaking from his tip, some smeared along your hand.

You instantly get red, looking back up at Jungkook with the best glare you could muster up at the moment when in reality you’re freaking out and heating up inside. “What the fuck Jungkook!?”

You were about to stand up to leave when he grabs you again. “I-I’m sorry! I can’t help it!”

“You’re gross!” You try to rip your hand away, but he keeps a firm grip.

“Y/N I’m sorry! Your hand just feels really, really soft…please, just help me get it off!” He pleads. “I’ll do anything Y/N. I promise!”

You look back at your hand covered in Jungkook’s residue, groaning at the sticky substance. You hate to admit that you loved the fact he got like that because of your hands, because of you touching him. You grab the blanket off the floor and wipe your hand, not wanting to think about it. You gulp once you face him again, his cock looking bigger than before and a bit more constricted against the toy.

You press your fingertips against the toy, attempting to twist it off of him. He whimpers, eyes shut tight as you can’t help but notice his stomach clench against your touch again.

“Noona, please...” He says again in what was like a husky whisper, sounding like he’s begging for you. The high pitched whine that came after striked right at your core, causing you to bite your lip. Your stomach was doing somersaults as you tried so heavily to focus on getting this damn toy off of him, but he was making this so, so hard. No pun intended.

You tried whatever you could, pushing it upwards and to the side and downwards, but none of it seemed to be working.

“I think we need to get some oil or something and maybe it’ll slip off,” You thought. “I’ll go get some in the kitchen.”

“You won’t find any,” He said hesitantly.

“What do you mean? I thought you just bought some?”

“I…was that on the list too?” He looks at your warily, biting his bottom lips as he slowly cowers away.

Your eyes turned to slits as your brows crinkled in distress again, letting out a long, slow sigh. “Well, I can’t think of anything else.”

“Why don’t you spit on it?” Your eyes bugged out while you looked at him like crazy woman. What did he just say?

“What?” You say, looking at him incredulously.

“Well, water isn’t going to work. We don’t have anything else and that’s all I could think of.”

“Do it yourself!” You yell, red as a tomato at what he just actually asked for you to do.

“I can’t! My hands are too big! Your hands are perfect and it’s easier if someone else does it. I’ll just hurt myself. Please, just do it it’ll work!” He pouts at you again, biting his bottom lip as he shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “You’re so gentle Noona. Help me,” He begs.

You know his words weren’t supposed to sound dirty in any way, but god why do you keep thinking like that?

Your empty stomach was messing with your head. Not only was your head throbbing, but you can’t ignore the ache between your legs either. You thought of just telling him to fuck off and leave him there to figure it out himself, but he speaks up again.

“It really hurts…I’m begging you Y/N,” He whimpers, whispering your name with a groan at the end. You notice his uneven breaths as his stomach vibrates, his veins protruding along his arms as he still clenches the sheets, the other hand holding onto his hard cock. He grasps himself, letting out a high pitched whine as he grits his teeth, seeing his eyes water yet again from his action.

You gulp at the sight of him before you, so helpless and vulnerable that causes your core throb even more.

You press your thighs together to ease the tension. You don’t know why such a helpless Jungkook was turning you on uncontrollably, and you’d love to see how much more he could beg and sob under your touch if he’d allow you to.

You shake your head, pulling yourself out of your crazy thoughts. This is getting really bad and you knew you had to get away from him quick. You needed this to be over as soon as possible.

“Fuck, okay! But we’re never fucking talking about this again. This never happened,” You say as you kneel in front of him again. You bring a hand to your face, spitting into it and smearing it along your palm. You cup the base of his shaft and glide your palm around the skin near the toy, trying to lubricate it as much as you can.

“It’s not enough Y/N, just spit directly on it,” He groans. You were going to yell at him for telling you what to do, but spared him once you saw his flushed and pained expression. You silently obeyed, sitting up so your face hovered over his dick. You collected enough saliva in your mouth and spit on the skin below the toy, letting the liquid slip down and over his cock. You bring your fingertips to massage the area, spreading your fluid as much as you can over him. Once you think it’s enough, you try pulling the toy again but it still didn’t budge.

“I-I think you still need to add more,” He pants.

“You think I got gallons worth Jungkook? That I’m a human sprinkler?” You spew.

“Well how about you just use your mouth?” He said nonchalantly.

You gaped at him, about to tell him off but then he cuts you off. “It would be easier! You wouldn’t have to keep spitting and have it dry up. You can get it all over and then it would pop right off!”

Your patience was really wearing thin with this kid. But then he grabs you by shoulders, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours.

“You’re my only hope Noona. You can only help me with this. I’ll do whatever you want after I promise.”

“I swear I’ll be a good boy.”

Good boy?

Hearing that made the last strings of your sanity cut loose.

Fuck it.

You push him away by his chest abruptly, making him almost fall back on the bed. He caught himself before he could fall, hands flat against the bed. Before he could ask you what your problem was, you flatten your tongue along the base of his shaft.

“Y/N!” He moans aloud, bucking his hips up and into your face. You glide your tongue along his vein, swirling your tongue against his tip. You press an open mouthed kiss, then wrap the tip around the lips as you suck lightly.

“Oh fuck! Noona,” He rasps, trying so hard not to lose control and grab your hair to push you further into him. His moans egg you on and you tease his slit, earning another strangled moan of your name from him. Then you bring your mouth down onto his cock, taking him inch by inch.

You try your best to use your tongue, trying to wet every inch of his throbbing cock until you finally reach the base where the toy was. You hear him panting like he just ran a marathon above you, groaning as he watches your pretty lips around his thick member.

“Your mouth is so warm, it feels so good,” He groans, licking his lips before he gulps as he watches you intently. You stop your movements and look up to him, making direct eye contact. He looks at you in confusion, seeing the subtle glint in your eyes. Before he could say anything you swallow hard, causing him to thrash his head back and fist your hair.

“Fucking shit!” He moans, bucking his hips upward into you, causing the tip to hit the back of his throat. It hurt of course, but seeing the way he reacts to your ministrations was definitely worth it.

You pull your mouth off of him just until the tip, then bring him all into your mouth once again, sucking harshly.

“Holy fuck Y/N,” he moans, grasping the back of your head as you bob up and down his length.

“Keep fucking doing that.” You scratch his thighs, telling him that you’re the one in control instead of him before grazing your teeth slightly against his length. He whines in response, slightly nudging your hair back to stop you.

“Y-Y/N please…I’m sorry, just please keep going.” You release him with a pop, wiping the saliva from your chin as you look at him with a glare.

“Why are you telling me what to do? I thought you said you’d be a good boy?” You say as you slightly dig your nails into his massive thighs once again. “Or should I stop?”

“No! No please! Don’t stop I’ll be good I promise!” He whimpers at you, bringing his hand to your cheek to slowly caress your face.

“I’ll be good Noona.” You pretend to contemplate on your answer when you definitely weren’t going to leave him like this now, but you seem to think he’s had enough when you see his arm shake and his lips quiver.

“You better be.” You bring your mouth back to him, sinking your mouth down his hardened length as you take all of him again. You didn’t really think of Jungkook as the vocal type, but hearing him shamelessly moan and whimper your name aloud to the point the next door neighbors could hear heightened your ego tenfold.

You release him, bringing your hand up and down his shaft. You lift his dick so it’s against his stomach, about to run your tongue against him once again when you noticed something odd. A very thin line was visible on the cock ring, located on the bottom side of his dick. You bring your face closer to the line, looking at it curiously. Very small and slightly faint read the letters OPEN right above the line, in bold lettering.

Aha! You thought. Finally. Before you could bring your hand to the little slit, Jungkook calls out to you.

“Why did you stop? I’m being good Noona. Please, keep going.” He cries, and you swear it’s a tear that slips from his eyes and down his cheek than his sweat.

You lick your lips, looking back down at the toy then back at his cock.

He deserves this for being a brat all these years.

You look back up at him, giving him a sweet smile which felt seemingly odd to him. You never smiled like that at him. “Okay, since you’re being so good for me Kook,” You say sweetly.

“Why are you- fuck!” Jungkook groans when you take him all in one go, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You slightly gag, your mouth so full from his thick length but you push through it. You wanted to see this boy suffer.

You continue to go all out, hollowing your cheeks and deep throating him in the best ways possible, drowning in all his whines and cries of your name and how you were so fucking good.

“N-Noona, fuck, I think I’m gonna-“ You smile at his words.

Any second now.

At one particularly harsh suck he grabs your head, sinking you further down his cock as your mouth hits the toy. He moans at first but quickly cries in agony, fisting your hair harshly as you try to focus relaxing your throat.

“What…What the fuck…?” He whimpers, eyes squinting closed as he groans.

You release him with a pop, looking up at him with innocent eyes. “What’s wrong Kook?”

“I-There’s something wrong,” He says, grabbing his dick and wincing.

“Does it still hurt Jungkook? You want Noona to make you feel good?” You pull his hand away from him, grasping his length once again and pumping up and down slowly. He cries again, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements. “It fucking hurts Noona. What’s happening?” He sounded so lost, so helpless.

You never thought yourself to be a sadist but fuck, you loved it.

“Shh, Kookie,” You slowly rise to your feet, standing between his legs as you grab onto his shoulder. You bring a finger to his chin, lifting his head so he can look up to you. “Let Noona help you. I’ll make you feel real good.” With that, you pushed him harshly on the chest, causing him to fall back into the sheets. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts leaving you in your black lacy underwear, then turn back to him.

You lick your lips, staring at him sprawled on his bed looking so fucked out, completely naked. You climb up over him, bringing one leg over to straddle his waist.

“Y/N, what are you-“ You muffled him with a kiss, soft and sweet at first but slowly getting rougher to the touch as seconds go by. He moans when you bite his bottom lip, allowing you to delve your tongue into his hot cavern. His hands quickly find purchase on the soft flesh of your hips, holding you tightly. You suck on the tip of his tongue, earning you a groan.

You bring your mouth to his ear, nibbling his lobe before you whisper, “Just relax, Kook. And let Noona do all the work.”

You rise above him, your hands running along his arms as you meet his hands on your hips. You bring your hands to the hem of your shirt, quickly lifting it off of you and exposing your matching black lace bra.

“God damn,” he choked, eyes as wide as saucers as his mouth gaped at your beautiful figure. You chuckle at his response, then bring your hand down to your underwear. You rubbed yourself through the fabric, lightly moaning as you feel your juices seep through. You were definitely ready for him already. You use two fingers to hook your underwear, pushing it to the side while using your other hand to grab his dick.

He groans, watching your movements as you align yourself with his dick.

“Y/N, are you sure you- ahh!” His nails dig into your hips as you slowly sink onto him, your mouth slightly ajar as he fills you up perfectly.

His length and girth is the perfect size for you, filling you up to the brim as you settle perfectly onto his cock. You moan once your ass meets his thighs, sitting still as you adjust to the new found fullness.

Then, you move. You bring yourself off of him until just the tip is left, then sit back down with a slap. You moan at the sensation, but Jungkook is crying from your action.

“Holy f-fuck! Fuckkk,” He whimpers, chest heaving as you bring yourself up only to come down with another harsh slap. You continue these movements until you set a steady pace, bouncing on his length.

“Y/N! Oh my god, fuck, fuck Noona,” He writhes below you, looking like he’s about to lose his mind as he twists his head back and forth with his eyes tightly shut.

“You feel so fucking good, god, keep going please,” He whines, continuously licking his lips as his mouth constantly lets out a string of profanities and whimpers.

“Am I making you f-feel good, Kook? Ah, fuck,” You groan, speeding up your pace as the room fills with constant slap, slap, slaps.

“Yes yes yes, fuck yes, you’re so fucking good, I’m losing my mind,” He chokes, bringing one hand to squeeze your ass while the other tightly grasps onto your upper thigh. You continue going hard against him, him hitting you so deep and in just the right spots. Every time you drop down you feel something hitting against your flesh, then you look down.

You forgot the cock ring was still stuck on him, then realize it was the bunny ears. Memories of your friend saying how good the vibrator was rushed into your head, then you bring one of your hands to the toy. You press the switch on the toy, the low buzz sounds filling the room along with Jungkook’s whines. Once you sink down onto him again the product lands right on your clit, vibrating at an inhumane speed which causes your eyes to roll back.

“Oh my fucking god!” You scream, pausing your movements as you let the vibrator run against your bundle of nerves. You’ve never felt anything like it before.

You attempt to squeeze your thighs together, slowly rotating your hips instead as you let the vibrations of the toy work its magic against you. You moan aloud again, throwing your head back as the feeling of Jungkook’s cock so deep inside you along with the toys ministrations make your mind go hazy. All of a sudden you feel Jungkook’s hips lurch forward, pounding into you from below as he holds you by the hips to keep you still.

“Jungkook!” You scream, scratching his chest with his hands as he takes over.

“Y-You’re getting tighter on me, fuck, you feel so fucking good,” He moans, filling you to the brim each time as the toy continues to rub against your clit.

You can’t contain your voice now, moaning nonstop as Jungkook keeps ramming into you, the toy helping you reach your high quicker than you ever thought possible. After a few more strokes you come undone, moaning loudly as you tightly clench Jungkook’s dick. He lets out a deep groan, continuously thrusting into you as you ride out your high.

“Y/N, Y/N, fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna-“ Jungkook grabs onto your ass tightly, letting out a strangled moan. You watch as his head falls back into the bed, his stomach clenching tightly as he releases a choked sob. You felt his cock throb from within you, but no release. The side of your mouth twitches upward, but when you see his eyes fill with tears once again, him crying aloud, you finally actually start feeling bad.

You lift your hips, letting his hard cock slip out of you as you roll over beside him. You take a few seconds to catch your breath. You’re about to sit up to take the cock ring off of him but all of a sudden he rolls over to hover above you, spreading your legs open and pushing your panties to the side.

“Hey, what-“ He grabs his cock and roughly shoves himself into you again, causing you to throw your head back with a moan. He has his hands on either side of your head, then brings his mouth to your ears.

“You’re so fucking tight Noona, you feel so warm.” He grabs your hips as he starts pummeling into you, making your eyes roll back.

“You’re fucking hot as hell, you moaning my name and coming all over my cock,” He grunts, “You don’t know how many times I’ve came imagining what just happened. But why can’t I fucking come now?”

“J-Jungkook, stop,” You moan, trying to get him to stop so you can take the ring off of him. But he doesn’t let up, too focused on trying to reach his release as he fucks you harder, grunting and growling as he picks up his pace. The toy continues to buzz, occasionally rolling over your nub if Jungkook angles it the right way, causing you to yell out. He spreads your legs further, tossing one of your legs over his shoulder to reach into you deeper.

“That picture of you bouncing on my dick, fucking me, using me to make you feel good, I never imagined how fucking sexy you’d actually look. And the way you moan my name, fuck I’ll come just from thinking about that next time I touch myself,” He groans, reaching behind you to rip off your bra. His mouth latches onto your nipple, sucking your breast as you grab his head to bring him closer. He laps your nub, licking up the valley of your breasts and brings his lips to yours.

You moan into his mouth, allowing him to ravage you some more. He brings both of your legs around his waist and you cross them, shoving himself into you faster. At this angle the toy is hitting directly on your clit each time he pounds into you, making you scream out his name as you clutch the bedsheets beside you.

“Jungkook!” You moan his name like a mantra, your release getting closer and closer. He continues kissing you, and after a few more deep strokes you come all over him again, squeezing him so hard he yells your name aloud, his cock throbbing uncontrollably as you clench tightly around him. His hands are holding your hips so tightly you know there’s going to be bruises in the morning, but you don’t care. You move your hips against him as you embrace the waves of pleasure, panting as you finally go limp. You’re about to slowly doze off from being so tired, wiping the sweat along your temple when you hear another choked sob. Jungkook pulls out of you, his dick still hard and swelled. The tip looks painfully red, the rest of his shaft looking constricted as he whimpers again.

“I-I fucking can’t,” He cries, his cheeks red and wet with tears of frustration as he looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Oh Kook,” You bite your lip. Maybe you really went too far.

You crawl over to him on his knees, carefully touching his length. He winces at your touch, whimpering as you lift it up. You press the button to turn off the vibrations, then use your fingernail to dig into the slit of the toy, pulling it forward as it pops open. He groans in relief as you slowly drag the toy off of him, tossing it to the side.

“And that’s what you get for being a brat all these years.” You say as you plop onto his bed, grabbing the sheets to cover yourself.

“What?” He looks at you confused, then his eyes widen.

“Wait…you fucking knew?”

You chuckle, “Of course, who doesn’t fucking know what a cock ring does? It stops you from coming, Kook.” You shuffle onto your side, getting ready to fall asleep.

“So you fucked with me this whole time?” He said in a low tone, venom laced in his voice.

“Fucked and fucked,” You said. “You’ve always fucked with me all these years. I was just making it even. Also we’re not telling anyone about this, okay?” You pointed back and forth from yourself to him, then plopped back onto the pillow.

Silence filled the room and you accepted it with open arms. You were just completely exhausted at this point, not having really expected such a good fuck from Jungkook. But hey, he made you feel good and you got your revenge, so it all works out. You were slowly slipping off into dreamland but all of a sudden the sheets are ripped off of you. Your legs were pulled downward, dragging your head off the pillow.

“What the fuck-“ Jungkook grabs your waist and flips you over onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the mattress while your ass is raised in the air. You attempt to turn around to ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing, but you cry as a hard slap echos in the room.

He smooths his rough palm against your right cheek where he spanked you, then brings his hand once again over the spot making you choke.

“You think this is a fucking joke? Making me lose my fucking mind, not letting me come three times?”

“Let go brat-“

Slap.

“The girl of my fucking dreams comes in here and sucks me off, fucks me twice, yet I couldn’t even fucking enjoy it cause I was in so much pain? You know how fucking horrible that is?” He grabs your underwear, tearing it in half as he lets it fall on the bedspread.

“Jungkook-ahh!” You moan once he brings his hand to your core, running his fingers along your slit.

“You call me a brat all the time, yell at me, yet I do everything for you,” He says as he lets a finger slip in, pumping into you as your wet juices fall down your thighs. “But you didn’t even let me come once.”

“Jungkook I can’t, not anymore,” You whimper, fisting the sheets as he plunges a second finger into you.

“Oh you can’t? But you came so many times Noona. Fuck, I even called you Noona cause I knew you secretly loved that,” He grunts. “I hate saying that. But I did it for you, to make you feel good Y/N.”

“Please,” You beg, trying to move away from his touch. But he doesn’t let up, continuing to touch you.

“I think you can go again. You never do anything for me, so you can do this. I haven’t even come yet,” He drags his fingers out of you, then leans forward so his dick sat against your cheeks and his chest leaned against your back. He brings his fingers to your lips, prodding them at your entrance. “Suck.”

You complied, opening your mouth as you lapped up your juices on him. You hear him groan behind you, slowly rubbing his length against your ass.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He leans back, pumping himself a few times before he aligns his tip at your entrance. You were going to attempt to stop him again but he pounds right into you, causing your face to fall flat onto the sheets.

He immediately starts off rough and fast, holding you by the hips as he drags you to him, fucking you onto him. You mewl, so sensitive from the last two rounds that you didn’t have the strength to do anything.

“Fuck, you’re still so fucking tight,” He groans, “God, I imagined fucking you so many times before, but I never thought it’d feel this good.”

“Jungkook…” You moan, slowly feeling the coiling in your stomach return.

“All these years Y/N, having to deal with seeing you in those short shorts, those low tops, fuck, you were such a fucking tease,” His thighs slap harder against your ass.

“Did I ever tell you I walked in on you changing once? I fucking ran to my room and jacked off that entire night to that image.” You moaned in response, thinking about the thought of Jungkook touching himself, pumping his shaft hard and fast as he thought of you, moaning your name as he came. And he was only a couple of feet away from you in the other room.

“But I never did anything about it, because you always treated me as the little brat next door,” He growled, flipping you over so you were on your back, then pushing himself right back in.

“Tell me Y/N, do you still think of me as a kid?” He grabbed one of your breasts, kneading it as he sucked on the other. “Would some brat make you feel this fucking good?”

You moaned in response, grabbing his hair as you tried to pull him closer to you. He sucked harder, pinching your nub between his fingers as he continued thrusting you at a harsh pace. He let you go, rising up to adjust you again, hooking his arms around your thighs as he fucked you into his mattress.

“Fuck, Jungkook! Oh my fucking god,” You moan aloud, slightly arching your back as he drilled into you, making your body slowly inch upward and closer to the bedframe. The hinges squeaked uncontrollably, the bed frame hitting against the wall each time he thrusted into you.

The angle was causing you to see stars, his length hitting you in your deepest and most pleasurable spot.

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna-“

He immediately stops his movements, causing you to groan at the loss of your blissful release.

“Why the fuck did you stop!?” You yell, tears of frustration clouding your vision.

He smirks at you in return, leaning forward until his face is a mere inches from yours.

“I don’t think you deserve it. Why should I let you come again?” You try to move in response, but he still has his arms around your legs, keeping you in place.

“Please,” You beg, wanting nothing more than to just drown in euphoric feeling of letting go against him.

“How are you gonna make me?”

“I’ll do anything! I won’t call you brat anymore! Just please, let me come,” You whimper, bringing your hands to cup his face.

“Hmm…” He contemplates for a little while, then you whine another please before he chuckles.

“You’ll do anything?”

“Anything.”

“Will you be my girlfriend after this?”

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops, not expecting that request at all. You thought he’d want you to suck his dick again, which you wouldn’t mind. But girlfriend?

He grabs your hand into his, then slowly caresses his face into your touch. He turns his face to kiss the inside of your palm, then each of your fingertips.

“I’ve loved you since I was 7. You’re the only girl for me, and we’re practically going to be together for the rest of our lives cause of our parents. My parents don’t want me to be with anyone else either, so we already have their blessing.” He smiles at your speechless face, then brings himself forward to give you a kiss on the nose.

Butterflies fill your stomach, and you feel like you can’t breathe for a moment. This brat has been with you for so long you never realized you actually loved him too, and you wouldn’t know what you would do without him.

“So do I take that as a yes?” He says, peppering sweet kissing along your jawline.

You bite your lips, but slowly your mouth curves into a smile. “You’re such a greaseball.”

He chuckles, bringing his lips to yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, melting into his kiss.

“Okay not to ruin the moment but I’m kind of fucking dying here and I feel like my dick is going to fall off,” He groans, feeling him still hard within you.

You giggle, giving him one last kiss on the lips before moving away from him. “Where do you want to come?”

“Fuck,” He grunts, licking his lips as he contemplates.

“I want to come inside you.” You nod at his response, “That’s fine, I’m on the pill. And how do you want me?”

“On top.” You nod again, smiling at him as you lift yourself up, changing positions with him. He falls back on the sheets and groans while he watches you straddle him, lining his cock with your soaking entrance. Once again you sink onto him, allowing him to fill you up to the brim. Both of you sigh in content, him kneading your breasts and you holding onto his chest.

You quickly start bouncing on him, wanting him to have his relief as quickly as possible. He groans as your ass slaps against his thighs harshly every time you come down, eyes closed shut as his mouth hangs open. You clench against him, trying to milk him out for his release, and he moans your name louder. You feeling the throbbing occur and you know he’s close. You were so focused on trying to get him off that you didn’t realize Jungkook reached for the toy again, turning the power on as the slight buzzing filled the room. Your eyes pop open and you cry aloud once he presses the vibrator part of the cock ring against your clit, making you writhe above him.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, Jungkook, fuck,” You mewl, moving faster against him as he keeps the toy against your bundle of nerves.

“Come on Y/N, come for me babe. Come all over my cock,” He grunts, and after a few more seconds of the toy against you you let go, lurching forward as you throw your head against Jungkook’s chest, crying his name aloud. He grabs onto your hips and plants his feet flat on the bed, fucking you through your high, and after another half dozen strokes he chokes your name out, coming inside of you in long, hot spurts. Jungkook’s warmth felt nice inside you, and you continued moving as best you could until he finished, groaning as he slowly went limp inside of you.

Both of you were panting and you could feel his rapid heartbeat slow against your cheek. He brings a hand to brush through your hair, bringing a blanket to cover the both of you before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I love you Y/N,” He said, kissing your temple.

“And I love sex toys now even though it hurt like a bitch, but at least it brought us together.” You slap his chest, causing him to let out a chuckle. “We should give it a 5 star review. The toy sucked ass for me but it also brought me this beautiful ass,” He said as he squeezed one of your cheeks. “Pretty great if you ask me.”

“You’re still dumb and a brat,” You said as you rested your chin on his firm chest, staring up at him. You leaned forward to kiss his bottom lip, right where his mole was that you always secretly adored.

“But honestly, I love you too.”

#jungkook #bts #fanfic #comedy #smut #notsohonest #wonhopes

1K notes · View notes

thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

Egg Stan Origins

In my notes earlier today, I saw that someone had liked one of my Egg Stan ficlets, and I decided to reread said ficlet. And then before I knew it, I was writing stuff for the Egg Stan AU, because I can’t control myself. So here, have...whatever this is.

——————————————————————————————

Ford slowly drifted back to wakefulness. As he opened his eyes, a fish darted across his field of vision.

Shit! I’m underwater! Panicking, Ford began to swim for the surface, before realizing that he wasn’t drowning. He let himself sink back to the ocean floor. Why can I breathe underwater? He held out his hands to inspect them. His mouth went dry. Thin, red webbing stretched between his twelve fingers. He looked down at his legs. Or rather, where his legs used to be. In their place was a large, extravagant tail with golden scales and red fins.

“Fuck,” he whispered. He ran a hand through his hair.

I’m- I’m a merman? How did that happen? He racked his brain, desperate for answers. The creature! The last thing he remembered was being on the ship, with a massive sea serpent bearing down upon them. When the serpent opened its mouth to spray venom at him, Stan had jumped in front of him to act as a shield. Stanley!

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Ford muttered, frantically looking around for his twin. There weren’t any other mermen in the vicinity.

Maybe he avoided this fate? Doubtful. Ford’s eyes landed on what looked like a large fish egg, partially buried in the sand. He swam over, rendered clumsy by his new tail, and gently lifted the egg from the sand. The egg was red but transparent, allowing him to see the very young mer curled up within. Is this- is this Stan?

“No. That’s not possible.” Ford spoke aloud in an attempt to convince himself. The mer in the egg suddenly twisted around, revealing its face. Ford’s heart plummeted. The mer had a face he recognized well. No one outside their family had that large, ruddy nose. “Stanley…” Ford held the egg close to his chest, panic rising.

Stan’s been turned into a mer child still in utero. I’m fully grown, but a merman. What am I supposed to do? Suddenly, his ears picked up the sound of voices in the distance. He swallowed nervously. I’m not one to typically ask for help, but I don’t really have a choice, do I? Ford swam towards the voices. As he got closer, he saw the source – a young merman and mermaid, probably related, judging by their similar features.

“Excuse me,” Ford called. The merman and mermaid changed course, swimming over to him. “I- I need some help.”

“Why aren’t ya speakin’ Mermish?” the merman asked in thickly accented English. His tail was a burnt orange, contrasting with his dark hair.

“I wasn’t aware that merfolk had their own language,” Ford said. The merman and mermaid looked doubtfully at each other. “I- I’m human, you see, and-”

“Uh, if you were a former human, you’d have a belly button,” said the merman, sounding suspicious. Ford looked down. His jaw dropped.

“What the-” He stared at the completely smooth skin where his belly button had previously been located. “I don’t- I don’t know how that happened.”

“Who’s this lil feller?” the mermaid cooed, peering at the egg Stan was in. Her accent was just as thick as the merman’s. She and the merman had the same large nose, but her hair was caramel-colored, matching her pale yellow tail.

“My twin brother. What happened to make me like this, it- somehow it affected him more severely and-”

“What’s a twin?” the merman asked.

“A sibling born at the same time as you.”

“Yer claimin’ this cutie is from the same clutch you hatched from?” the mermaid asked.

“Yes? No? Look, I don’t understand your mer terminology, I’m human!” Ford burst out. The merman and mermaid exchanged a concerned look.

“It’s okay,” the mermaid said soothingly. She held out her hands. “I can take yer brother so’s ya can swim better.”

“No!” Ford held Stan’s egg even tighter. Stan swirled around in the egg. Alarm flashed in the mermaid’s eyes.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “I won’t take ‘im. But I think that it might be best if ya come with us to our house, at least fer the night. It’ll get dark soon. The guppy eels come out when the light fades.”

“G-guppy eels?” Ford stammered.

“They eat eggs ‘n guppies,” the merman said. Ford’s heart leapt into his throat. “Are ya goin’ to come with us, stranger?” Ford swallowed.

“I don’t really have any other choice,” he mumbled. The merman patted him on the back.

“That’s the spirit. Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of room fer the both of ya.”

-----

By the time Ford and the merfolk arrived at their destination, a large underwater cliff face, he was exhausted. Not just physically, though the swim had been more taxing than he expected. He was also mentally weary from the immense amount of information he’d learned from the merfolk. Apparently, humans did turn into mers on rare occasions, but when they did, they kept their belly buttons. In addition, mer eggs were laid in massive clutches and kept in something called a “guppy basket”. His hosts had assured him that they had a guppy basket where Stan could go.

But he’s not leaving my sight. The merman, whose name was Lute, looked at Ford with some amusement.

“Yer a bit out of shape, ain’t ya?” he asked. The mermaid, who was named Angie, punched him.

“Be nice,” she chided. Ford’s initial assessment of the two being related was correct; they were siblings.

Not just siblings. Clutch-mates. From what Lute and Angie had told him, clutch-mate seemed to be the closest mer analog to a twin. Clutch-mates were siblings that hatched from the same clutch of eggs, though they sometimes hatched days apart.

“I’ll go alert the folks we’ve got a guest,” Lute said. He opened a door into the cliff that Ford hadn’t seen and ducked inside. Ford looked askance at Angie.

“It’s an optical illusion thing,” she said with a shrug. “Unless ya know where the entrance is, ya can’t find it.” Of the two siblings, she seemed the kinder and gentler, taking what Ford said at face value. Unlike her brother.

Though she could just be humoring me. I’m fairly certain they think I’m having some sort of nervous breakdown. Angie smiled at Ford, then opened the door. I’ll take humoring me over mocking me.

“C’mon on in,” she said. Ford reluctantly swam inside. He was in a pleasantly homey living room that, if it weren’t underwater, could be mistaken for belonging to a human family. Potted plants lazily swayed from small currents. A middle-aged merman and mermaid sat on a couch, speaking with Lute.

Presumably, these are Angie and Lute’s parents. One of the many things he’d been told during the swim was that merfolk lived with their parents until they had a mate, after which they would find their own place to live. As unmated merfolk, Angie and Lute had yet to move out. Lute was a carbon copy of his father, with the exception of his tail color; his father’s tail was blue. Angie looked exactly like her mother, down to her tail color, but had her father’s large nose.

“This must be the poor young man you found,” said their mother, catching sight of Ford. She got up from the couch and swam over to him. “Hmm…” She looked him up and down. “What’s your name, son?”

“S-Stanford Pines.”

“That’s not a mer surname,” the mother commented idly, still looking at Ford with a thoughtful gaze. “But it is a human one.” She smiled. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Sally MerGucket, but if ya like, ya can call me Mrs. MerGucket.”

“Mrs. MerGucket,” Ford mumbled. Mrs. MerGucket nodded.

“My mate Mearl is on the couch.” Mr. MerGucket smiled warmly at Ford. “It looks like you could use a guppy basket fer that egg.”

“No, he’s going to stay with me,” Ford said firmly.

“Of course he will,” Mrs. MerGucket said, sounding surprised. “The basket will go in the same room ya sleep in.”

“…Oh.”

“Come with me, dear. I’ll show you to yer room fer the night.” Mrs. MerGucket took Ford’s hand and led him out of the living room, down a hall, and into what was clearly a guest bedroom of sorts. Under normal circumstances, Ford would ask a million questions about the furniture in the room, particularly the bed, with a frame made of what appeared to be living coral.

I don’t feel much like asking questions right now, though. Ford looked down at Stan’s egg. Through the membrane, he could see Stan sucking his thumb. Mom always hated when he did that.

“Stanford.” Ford looked up. Mrs. MerGucket sat on the edge of the bed. She patted the bed. “Sit with me.” Reluctantly, Ford swam over and sat next to her. “May I?” Mrs. MerGucket held out her hands. Ford shook his head, keeping Stan close. “That’s quite all right.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Ford asked quietly. “That I used to be human. Your children certainly don’t.”

“Yes, they’re convinced that ya hit yer head,” Mrs. MerGucket said. “They were worried fer yer health, as well as the health of the egg, since a confused guardian ain’t a safe one.”

“You’re dodging the question.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Mrs. MerGucket sighed. “Stanford, I believe ya.” Ford’s head whipped up. He stared at her. “I suspect my children would, too, if they weren’t used to human behaviors.” Ford frowned.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Mrs. MerGucket gestured to her torso. Ford’s eyes widened. Unlike her mate and children, Mrs. MerGucket had a belly button. “You’re…”

“Yes. I used to be human. Since I helped to raise my children, they don’t realize yer behaviors ‘n tendencies ‘re human through ‘n through. But I’ve spent enough time among merfolk to tell ya used to be human, too.” Mrs. MerGucket looked at Ford thoughtfully. “Well. Either that, or ya were raised by humans. But I suspect you’d be a tad more traumatized, were that the case.”

“I’m feeling fairly traumatized at the moment,” Ford mumbled. Mrs. MerGucket put her hand on his shoulder.

“Son, you can stay here as long as ya like, okay?”

“I just want things to be the way they were yesterday,” Ford whispered.

“I understand. Unfortunately, I ain’t sure whether there’s a way to do that. But we’ll do our best to help. Once we hear yer story from ya, rather than from Lute, we’ll have a better idea of what happened to ya. But that can wait until you’ve had some rest. You ‘n that lil egg have been through a lot today.”

“Yes,” Ford said, his voice breaking. “We have.”

“I’ll bring ya the guppy basket to put the egg in, okay? And once that’s done, ya can get some sleep.” Ford nodded woodenly. Mrs. MerGucket left the room.

“Stanley,” Ford whispered helplessly to the egg that had been his brother. “What- what are we going to do?” Stan offered no answers, merely curling up tightly within his egg.

-----

Stan’s egg rocked back and forth within the guppy basket.

“Be patient,” Ford chided as he combed his hair. He’d learned the hard way that if he didn’t comb regularly, small crustaceans would take up residence in his thick curls. After spending a few months with the MerGuckets, he felt more or less settled as a merman.

At the very least, I feel less like a fish out of water. Ford managed a small smile at the almost pun. Every day, he learned more about merfolk and mer society from the MerGuckets. They had yet to determine what sea creature had transformed him and Stan, however, and as a result, were no closer to reversing the process. I suspect Mrs. MerGucket was right. What happened to us can’t be remedied. His good mood evaporated. Stanley and I are stuck. Said stuck egg abruptly rolled in the basket.

“I told you to calm down,” Ford said, swimming over. He wasn’t sure how much Stan was aware of in the egg, nor how much he would recall when hatched, but couldn’t shake the habit of talking to the egg like nothing had changed. Like Stan was still his stubborn, adult self. “I’ll put you in the sling in a moment.” The egg rolled again. “Fine!” Ford grabbed the egg sling off his dresser and put it on. While it was impossible to carry an entire clutch in an egg sling, merfolk used them to keep close eggs they were concerned about.

Luckily, I only have one egg, so transporting the full clutch isn’t an issue. Ford froze. No. Did I just- did I just think of Stan as being my child?

“Everything all right in here?” a voice asked. Ford looked over his shoulder. Fiddleford treaded water in the doorway, smiling at him. A few days after Ford came to the MerGucket home, Fiddleford, Angie and Lute’s older brother, had returned home from an internship. Very quickly, Fiddleford had become Ford’s favorite of the MerGucket children. Angie was kind and quite brilliant, but rambunctious in a way that reminded Ford of Stan and was thus painful to be around for long. Lute was abrasive and curt, and still didn’t seem convinced Ford was telling the truth.

Fiddleford, however, was gentle and warm, with an intellect to rival Ford’s. The fact that Fiddleford was obsessed with human culture, and thus fascinated by Ford’s stories, only served to deepen their connection.

“Yes, everything’s quite all right,” Ford said. He carefully placed Stan’s egg in the sling. “Stan’s just being difficult this morning.” Fiddleford swam over, frowning.

“He’s just an egg. How could he be difficult?”

“Oh, he’s been moving around a lot.”

“He…” Fiddleford’s eyes widened. “How long has this been goin’ on?”

“A couple of days. Why?”

“Stanford, eggs start movin’ when they’re gettin’ ready to hatch,” Fiddleford said gently. Ford’s mouth dropped open. “I reckon ya might want to put the egg back in the basket.” Numb, Ford did as he was told, removing Stan’s egg from the sling and gently setting it inside the guppy basket. The egg began to rock and roll in earnest. Finally, a tiny hand punched through the egg’s membrane.

“He’s…” Ford whispered. His voice failed him as he watched a newborn mer crawl through the hole. “He’s…”

“Quite the looker,” Fiddleford said quietly. The newborn mer, with fins and scales a drab green color, scrunched up his face and began to cry.

“What- what do I-” Ford asked desperately. Fiddleford scooped up the newborn mer and gently placed him in the egg sling Ford still wore.

“Newborn guppies like to be held,” Fiddleford said.

Right. Mer children are referred to as guppies. And they don’t get their mature scale and fin colors until adolescence. Ford stared down at the guppy curled up in the sling. He was the spitting image of old family pictures of Stan. Which makes sense, given that he is Stan. Ford hesitantly stroked the guppy’s cheek. The guppy leaned into the movement with a soft crooning sound. …Is he?

“Is somethin’ wrong?” Fiddleford asked hesitantly.

“I…” Ford swam over to his bed and sat down. Fiddleford followed, sitting next to him. “I think that some part of me expected the Stan I knew to hatch from the egg. That he would be himself, with all his memories and quirks, but…a child.” His voice began to quiver. “That obviously isn’t the case. He’s my brother, but not- not really. Despite my best attempts, I’ve lost him.”

“Don’t think of it that way,” Fiddleford said. He placed his hand on Ford’s shoulder. “Think of it as him gettin’ a fresh start. Ya told me how yer pa wasn’t kind.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Well then, this is a chance fer him to get the kind of father he didn’t get the first time,” Fiddleford said gently. Ford swallowed.

“…Yes. I- I suppose you’re right.” He removed the guppy from the sling to nestle in his arms. The guppy looked up at him with curious brown eyes. Ford carefully removed stray bits of egg from the guppy’s thick, brown curls. “Hello.” The guppy cocked his head, interested. Ford held him close. “It’s good-” he started. His voice gave out. He took a deep breath and tried again. “It’s good to see you again, Stanley.”

#I haven't written MerGucket content in a hot minute! it's nice to write it again lol #even if it is for this unnecessarily complicated variation lmaoooo #but at least this is the intro for the AU so I don't have to explain it lol #Egg Stan AU #MerGucket AU #Stanford Pines #Lute McGucket #Angie McGucket #Ma McGucket #Fiddleford McGucket #McGucket Family #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

They’re Sayin’ (You’re Gonna Be My Man)

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 2217

Summary: Sam calls Bucky too soon after he's left Louisiana, looking for advice he doesn’t really need and getting a conversation he didn’t really expect.

Sam’s supposed to wait until news of the Flag-Smashers’ movements comes down the line to get in touch with Bucky. He doesn’t. It’s sooner. It’s almost right away.

He’s sure Bucky’s gotta be out of the state, but he doesn’t know whether he’s made it back to this alleged apartment in Brooklyn (on some level, Sam’s aware that he keeps making jokes about the conspiracy of the apartment’s existence because it’s his way of daring Bucky to invite him over sometime). When he calls Bucky up, he knows he might catch him on a plane, in a cab, with a buzz of voices around him as he scowls at strangers in an airport or stomps down a sidewalk. But, other than Bucky’s voice on the other end, Sam just hears quiet, so he figures the guy made it home.

“You never told me if you had any tips,” Sam accuses straight off.

Shifting his feet, he tamps down more of the grass he’s been practicing on, squinting when sweat rolls into his eye. He just finished a brisk mile with the shield on his arm, getting used to the weight and the bulk of it, and he’s ready to start throwing again.

“Tips for what?” Bucky asks. “Fixing the boat? General life stuff? I know we had a good talk, but I think I take advice better than I give it.”

“Which is not saying much,” Sam points out with a laugh. “You suck at taking advice.”

“Until recently.”

“Until recently,” Sam allows. He takes a deep breath and leans over to the side, stretching from his run and tapping his hand on the Vibranium disc currently propped against his leg. “Nah, man, for the shield. How to throw it, how to catch it, how to pull off some of Steve’s fuckin’ boomerang tricks.”

“I thought you were gettin’ the hang of it,” Bucky says in his ear.

“I am. I just realized that, when I had you here, you did a lot of standing around and catching the shield on that cyborg arm of yours. Not a lot of active advice-giving.”

“You really want me telling you how to do your job?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, nobody said that. I am simply aware of the fact that you’re one of very few people alive who’ve handled this thing, and maybe the only one who did it with any actual competence.”

“The level of flattery is astounding,” Bucky says dryly.

“You want more, you gotta help me out,” Sam jokes back.

“Well, show me what you’re doin’.”

Sam glances around himself. Flat lawn. Waning daylight. Tall trees wrapped in the pads he’s been ricocheting the shield off of. No place good to prop his phone.

“I gotta get somebody to film me,” he realizes. “Lemme call you back.”

“Everybody’s gonna be filming you with the shield pretty soon. Only question is whether you’re doing something impressive in news footage or looking like a jackass in some kind of Avengers’ Greatest Fuckups reel.”

“Shut the hell up. I thought we were gettin’ along now.”

“Just trying to be motivational. Am I not doing it right?”

“I think you better look up the word ‘motivational’ in the dictionary while you wait for my call,” Sam suggests.

He disconnects and hangs his head, shaking it even as he smiles.

His legs are screaming for a thorough, post-workout stretch and maybe some ice on his shins—they’ve been taking the brunt every time he digs his feet into the ground and braces to snatch the returning shield from the air—but what’s another quarter mile? Sam runs to Sarah’s, arms pumping, stride a little different now that he has to accommodate the shape of the shield.

When he gets there, the boys are playing soccer on the lawn and he calls through the screen window to the kitchen to get his sister’s ok to borrow them as his training assistants. They get even more excited by the bestowing of this title and its implied responsibility than by the sight of the shield. That’s pretty incredible. Sarah caves to a temporary borrowing (supper’s almost ready) and they’re off.

On the way back, Sam lets AJ carry the shield. Seems like a nice break for himself until Cass requests a piggyback.

“Alright,” Sam agrees with a sigh, crouching in front of his nephew. “Hop on.”

Captain America’s benevolence is limitless. At least, it is this evening. When his back’s killing him tomorrow from absorbing the shock of a hundred shield throws, he will not be so easily persuaded into giving piggybacks.

In the clearing, Sam pulls his phone from the zipped pocket of his shorts and videocalls Bucky, who picks up on the first ring. His face is too close to the camera, but it’s good to see those blue eyes and the crinkles that are either there because he’s smiling in greeting or he’s confused about how a videocall works. In a few seconds, Bucky figures out for himself that he needs to hold the phone farther away. It makes Sam miss him. Also makes him a little worried because he can see the blank, white wall of Bucky’s apartment around his head. No paint, no art. Sam can’t even hear a TV or anything in the background.

“You’re not busy,” he observes.

“Not really, no,” Bucky admits.

“You coulda stayed here longer.”

“Nah, you needed time with everything, not me constantly looking over your shoulder. Shield’s yours now, Sam. I’m gonna be at your side, but you and the shield… I got no say in what that relationship is. I understand that now and I’m trying to respect it.”

“So when you’re actually doing the right thing, let you back off?”

“That’s right,” Bucky agrees.

“I’ll try to remember in case it ever happens again.”

Before Bucky can defend himself against Sam’s teasing jab, Sam passes the phone to AJ, camera turned so Bucky will still be focused on him when he starts throwing the shield again.

“Got you propped up on my human tripod,” he informs Bucky, reaching above the phone to playfully shove the side of AJ’s head. “So watch your mouth.”

“Can I say hi?”

“Don’t be a smartass,” Sam warns.

And, of course, Bucky eggs the kids into a long ooooh, like they’ve caught him breaking his own rule. Which they have. But Bucky was being a smartass and the opportunity to let him know is not something Sam likes to pass up.

He’s stretching now—maybe for himself, maybe for the camera pointed his way—gripping his ankles in turn and holding his heels to his ass until he feels the pull in his thighs. Bucky’s not wrong about having this time to himself. Just him and this legendary object that’s feeling more right on his arm every time he slips it through the straps. Still, he misses what they had going the last two days. Not him and the shield, but him and Bucky. Having him here like that… It was different from every other experience Sam’s had with him. Bucky was still, in turns, a grouch and a showoff and a staring machine and a shithead (flirting with Sarah, come ON), but he was also more convincingly a person than Sam’s had the pleasure of seeing him before. At ease and multi-faceted by nature instead of the necessity of adapting in the face of a threat.

Bucky smiled.

They didn’t always bicker.

He looked damn good in the morning when they leaned against the kitchen counter, not talking, sipping their coffee.

Sam wants those minutes back so bad. Living with Bucky here was incomparable to living with him overseas. Lotta reasons for that, including not having to share the space with Baron Zemo. Mostly because this is home and Sam liked pretending, while Sarah did some well-deserved sleeping in and the boys got the hems of their pajama pants wet in the dew in the backyard, that it was real. That this breath between their fights (no longer with each other) could last and that this is where they’d hold it. It could be their kitchen, their mugs, their tousled sheets Bucky’d climbed out of, looking all rumpled and lovely and shit.

But Bucky doesn’t know what Sam pretends and Sam sure as hell isn’t going to tell him. He’s just going to keep faithful to their usual dynamic, trying for less glaring. Not a word to unsettle things, as much as he’s curious how they might handle things being unsettled. As much as his mind plays back the blinding glint off the water as they rolled up their sleeves and went to work together in a way more meaningful, more personal, than they ever have before. Plays it back all the time.

No. Quiet. Sam needs to figure himself out first and knows Bucky’s working on doing the same. Maybe sometime—but probably never—they can see how those selves overlap. All they need to make fly right now is being Captain America and… what’d that moron call himself? The White Wolf? Son of a biscuit…

“Let me see him!” Cass says excitedly, recapturing Sam’s focus.

It’s his brother he’s talking to and Sam watches fondly as AJ turns the phone to show Bucky a grinning Cass, being careful to keep it steady. Pretty damn sweet. Cass even waves while Sam stands there, watching and doing shoulder rolls.

“Hi, Uncle Bucky!”

Sam feels like he just whipped the shield out and caught the return in his stomach. He strides over to the boys and AJ passes the phone back without being asked. He’s stifling giggles despite or because he senses that his little brother shouldn’t have said that.

“One minute,” Sam tells Bucky, hardly glancing at him because he just can’t. He tilts the camera towards the ground and raises expectant eyebrows at his grinning nephews. “Did somebody tell you to call him that?”

In unison, the boys go, “No, Uncle Sam,” which is suspiciously adorable. But they aren’t liars.

“Did you hear somebody call him that?”

AJ and Cass glance at each other and that’s enough for Sam. They won’t answer, so he knows it’s Sarah who’s made this joke, put this idea in the kids’ heads. They won’t give her up though, because they’re Wilsons and they’re loyal to their mother.

Sam turns the camera back on himself, unprepared for the upward tick at the corner of Bucky’s lips that make them even harder to look away from than usual.

“My sister must’ve—”

“I know,” Bucky interrupts.

“You know?”

“Yeah. Sarah called me that to my face.”

“She did what?”

Sarah having her joke is one thing, but saying it to Bucky takes things a little far, in Sam’s opinion. Bucky could think Sarah’s serious. He could think she’s saying that because Sam’s said something to her. Something about coffee and bedsheets and the sweet ache he felt in his chest when he saw Bucky’s smile in the golden light of dawn.

“Last night, before she put the boys to bed. You were in the shower, I think.” Bucky reaches up absentmindedly to run a hand over the top of his head; the flex of his bicep in the long-sleeved shirt he’s wearing and waiting for the end of this recollection are both torture for Sam. “They wanted to hang out with me, but Sarah said, ‘Uncle Bucky’s gotta get some sleep. You’ll see him tomorrow.’ Something like that.”

Now, when Sam’s truly learning the meaning of flabbergasted, Bucky’s mouth cracks into a wide, self-satisfied smile.

“You made that up,” Sam guesses helplessly.

“Nope.”

Sam knows that, with his nephews’ inability to lie and Sarah’s lifelong history of messing with him as evidence, but it would’ve been a convenient escape from the reality of his sister (and possibly the boys too) addressing Bucky as if he and Sam are together.

“Tell me you told my sister to drop the ‘Uncle.’”

Another thing Sam knows: that Bucky didn’t do that. Bucky seems happy to prove his fears correct; he shrugs.

“Sounded kinda nice,” Bucky defends. That makes Sam soften. He knows Bucky doesn’t have any living family, that he’s been struggling to allow himself to make friends. Maybe he just likes being told he belongs to them and that Sarah’s joke makes it effortless for him. Then, Bucky adds, “Pass me back to my nephews.”

Sam points a warning finger at him.

“Watch it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The crease between Bucky’s eyebrows deepens as Sam watches the pain in the ass pretend to be stern with him. “Just throw the damn shield. I thought you asked for my help.”

“I did.”

Releasing a cautious sigh, Sam hands the phone to AJ once more. The boy’s got his silliness under control and he accepts the job solemnly.

Sam’s two steps away, hefting the shield onto his arm, when he hears Bucky shout, “And my hand in marriage!”

The boys’ laughter has them rolling on the cool grass, the phone clutched in AJ’s grip, and by the time Sam wrestles it away from his nephew, the camera’s swung all over the place. Showing Bucky the sky, the dirt, some quality footage up AJ’s nose, and probably—almost definitely—the way his words made Sam smile.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes #sambucky

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