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shivada-jade · 3 years

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codename: vind

older sibling!reader

characters: diluc, kaeya ➡ mentions: adelinde, crepus, la signora warning(s): alcohol consumption, swearing, and because for some reason, older siblings tend to be shorter than younger siblings. iDK WHY but ugh, yeah you're shorter than diluc and kaeya bc you're the older sibling. ik, i hate it too

like, i wanna be a tall 6'2 woman

diluc's 5'10 so u can still be tall in the story.. just not 5'11 😢 sorry over 5'10 folks

➡ WRITTEN BEFORE 2.1 so uhh :D

notes: platonic w diluc and kaeya, duh bc ur the older sibling. sibling love!!! sibling love !! woop woop !

"Dad, I'm home!" You bellow out to the house, waving a polite hello to Adelinde who looked shocked to see you. You kick off your shoes and slide your way to the long table in the living room, swiftly grabbing an apple before heading upstairs.

Your hands graze the railings and make your way up to find your dad. Upon reaching the last flight of steps, you were suspicious with how the place was very quiet. Granted, your younger brothers are now adults, but it still felt too quiet. Maybe you expected to see your brothers playing a game of chess, maybe bickering and fencing. You were hoping to see your family after being away.

You were a part of the Fatui under the Mondstadt branch. It was and at the same time wasn't a choice to be roped into the Fatui. You got roped into the wrong group of friends and found yourself blackmailed by the infamous group.

You didn't want to join. You didn't want any of it. You've been disconnected from the world. Wiped out from the face of Earth. No one gave information to you, you couldn't learn anything about what's happening currently. The most you could do was send letters, but even those were difficult to send out. You had to do it in secrecy or you'd be in trouble.

Love, the better sibling,

[Y/N]

Or another common send off is:

Please write back soon,

[Y/N]

And your family never failed to send back letters. They asked what you're doing, where you are and how are you, still you never told them your occupation, fearful of what they would think and where your loyalties lie, so you told them you were working under an adventurer.

It's for the greater good. You remember trying to convince yourself.

You're a horrible person.

You were sixteen then. Your younger brothers were twelve. It's been 10 long years since you last saw them, and 6 years since you last received a letter back. You miss them dearly. You often wondered what sorts of adventures they did without you.

But why are you wondering about this? You knew what they did: you knew everything that happened.

You're living under a heavy burden.

"Dad?" You call out again. Maids and wine makers look aghast when they see you, and they're on the verge of fainting when you call out to your father.

Stop the act.

It's strange how the letters were suddenly cut off. The last letter you received was from Kaeya, telling you how you needed to come home straight away. You tried to, but the Fatui prevented you from doing so. A lady called La Signora supervised you directly to make sure you didn't leave.

You know...

Adelinde brushes the dust off her uniform and hurries up the stairs to catch up to you, "Dear, is that you [Y/N?]"

"Did you forget me that easily? I'm offended Miss Adelinde," you chided, but the teasing look in your eyes give Adelinde relief to know you aren't actually offended. "Miss, where's dad?"

You're sickening.

Adelinde takes one look at you and squeezes your shoulders with a smile, "I'm afraid that's not for me to say. Master Diluc should be able to-"

"Oh, where's Diluc and Kaeya?" You ponder, and the corners of your lips curl upwards. "Those two were always attached to the hip. Where are they now? Horseback riding at the vineyard? Ha! I-"

You glance at Adelinde's watery eyes and stop your babbling. "What's wrong Miss Adelinde?" You reach for her hands on your shoulders and hold them. "Ah, has father been making you work too hard? I can request him to lessen your load."

Adelinde shakes her head no. "You don't have a clue, do you? Oh," she sighs. "Please, rest yourself by the fireplace. I'll prepare tea for you." She rests her hands back at her side and scurries to the kitchen.

You frown, unsure why she's jumpy, but you follow her request and sit by the fireplace. The crackle of the fire contrasts the tense air you feel when maids brush past you, offering tea Adelinde made. You thank them, gently blowing on the drink.

After taking a sip, you place it down with a pinky to lessen the noise it makes on the table. You hear the door open, and the choruses of maids greeting someone.

"Welcome home, Master Diluc," you hear and other voices saying, "We've prepared a meal for you and your sibling, would you like to rest yourself?"

You peek from your chair, he obviously hadn't realized you yet.

Diluc's lips make a thin line and shrugs off his jacket, "Why is Kaeya visiting. Isn't he supposed to do his knightly duties?"

You have no clue why he says it like that. The venom in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You decide this is your cue to give him a warm welcome. You stand from your seat, and open your arms in a grand gesture and waltz to your brother. "Diluc! It's been a while huh?"

You clearly see him tense hearing your voice. His head snapped to your direction with his mouth parted. The maids respectively take their leave, bowing before they do so.

Diluc looks you up and down, still not believing you're there, like you're just his imagination. His hand slowly reaches out to you as if you're a dream.

Your feet lead you closer and you grasp him tightly in an embrace.

He freezes, but slowly relaxes in your hug, reluctantly bringing up his own arms to wrap around you. You feel his grip tightening, and you feel his shake out silent sobs. His face buries in your neck, letting tears fall on your clothes.

You soothe his back, and press a kiss on his hair. "I'm home, Diluc."

He trembles, pushing himself away to look at you clearly. Why hadn't you come home earlier? He wanted to vent, he wanted to yell, shout, he wanted to know how much he missed you in your absence.

He clears his throat and coughs in his fist. "You should have told me about your arrival," he adjusts the gloves on his hands, and looks to the floor like he did when he admitted he accidentally broke your toy when you were 10.

After these years, he still looks up to you as his older sibling. Not a thing has changed.

But you couldn't help but notice one thing. You knew Diluc and Kaeya had matured, you knew they would grow taller, but shit, now Diluc's taller than you.

"I sent a letter a month ago," you began. "It should have been sent to your office in the Favonius Headquarters? That's where I send my mail after you told me about your promotion to Cavalry Captain."

You squish his cheeks with both your hands. "Because I know you're a workaholic and only respond to letters that mean business, so that's where I sent it off to. You never write back, neither does Kaeya," you pause, thinking for a moment. "Neither does dad. Tell me he hasn't gotten sick that he couldn't respond to my letters."

Diluc lifts your hands off his face and frowns. He doesn't know how to break the news to you- not when you look so excited to be home and tell of your adventures to your family, so he asks, "Did you eat yet?"

You note the frown on his face. "'What's got you grumpy," you prod. "I need to find dad first. Told him in the first letter I gave him, I'd give the first gem I find."

Diluc watches you leave him to go to Crepus' room on the second floor. He hears the thuds on the floor and the opening of the door, but does nothing to stop you. You left with a smile, and you come back confused.

"Why is dad's room empty?"

How cruel.

...

Kaeya hums, passing by Flora's shop and purchasing a Calla Lily for the sake of it. He is well aware of the Fatui that stand by corners. Whispers of the wind give him intel, and so does alcohol apparently. He leans on a wall right outside Angel's Share, watching two Fatui members drink some of the tavern's strongest alcohol, imported from Snezhnaya.

"That damn," the one with the red and black mask hiccups, lifting a mug with foam overflowing. "Damn brat's gonna snitch on us to the Knights- *hiCC* boss lady wou- *HicC* would have our heads!"

Thankfully, their more responsible Fatui friend takes the mug and switches it with their drink, water. "You're the one who let Vindicta out of your sight when you know their frequencies to escape. This is all on you, buckaroo."

One of the Fatui escaped? How peculiar.

Kaeya hums, in steady strides he shows himself to the Fatui and takes a seat from another table and sits in front of the two. "My, my, my. If it isn't the wonderful Fatui," he divuldges. He twirls his Calla Lily around his fingers, amused with the Fatui's reactions.

Their mouths drop, knowing who he is and they hastily clean themselves up by sitting straight and wiping away the alcohol from their faces. "Good evening, sir."

"Evening to you too," he places the flower behind the person's ear, flustering them. "Well? Drink up. Everything you order will be on me."

The Fatui look at each other, skeptical with Kaeya's kindness, but the drunken one accepts the offer. Kaeya celebrates in the inside as he slowly gains Fatui intel.

Though, the second Fatui whom he dubbed the "Responsible One," took a while for them to take a sip. Turns out, they couldn't handle alcohol, that's why they avoided drinking it.

"So, my dear friends," he slides a coin on the table and stares both of them down. "A mora for your thoughts? I couldn't help but notice the tense of your shoulders when you first arrived here."

Responsible One raises their mug drunkenly, and gives a pointed look, "You... you know too much. How?..." They stare at their friend and whisper shout, "Don't tell him about Vind or-" They fail to continue their sentence and pass out on the table.

Kaeya feigns a surprised face and looks at Fatui number 2, "Who exactly is Vind? I'm sure you don't mean the storm watcher up at the cliff." He coats his voice with sugar, and it seems Fatui friend fell for his kindness.

"The damn brat," they spit out before hiccupping again. "Recruited them, fed them, saw potential, gave a home, and they escaped."

Kaeya nods and pushes another bottle of wine to the Fatui's direction, urging them to continue.

"Was supposed to be one of the Agents to spy on the *hiCc* to spy on the Ragnvindr family, because *HicC* Vind was one of the best there is. They were about to be promoted Harbinger after an assignment *hiCCUpp* but then Big Boss Lady said 'End the Ragnvindr legacy,' Vindicta left without a word. They escaped."

The Fatui downs another bottle of wine. "But judging from Boss Lady's reaction, Vind did the job: killed him and placed the blame on the Knights."

The Calvary Captain knits his brows and places his hands in front of him. It laced themselves and he watches the Fatui person empty out his wine.

"I'd be careful of what you say if I were you." His lone eye glints dangerously.

"End the legacy?" Kaeya frowns. "Can I ask..." He couldn't ask why or the Fatui would stop talking to him. "Can I ask when your beloved spy did their job?"

The Fatui waves a hand, "Six years ago. After they killed that damn aristocrat's father, they tried escaping. Big Boss supervised them under their watch. 'Potential' the Harbingers always say, but I don't see the potential in them if they don't have loyalties under the Fatui. A wild card, really."

They lay their cheek on the table. The temperature drops quite dangerously. Kaeya's diamond eye glints with coldness before it turns back to warmth.

"Rumours have it," the Fatui sighs, playing with his empty mug. "The training Vindicta went through is rougher, so we were hoping they would tie their loyalties to us. We let them explore once, and they escaped under my watch. Maybe it was their assignment to leave, maybe it's not, because Boss Lady was okay with it, she said 'Vindicta will always return in our hands.' when they first escaped, and surely enough they do return. But either way, I'm fucked for letting them go missing the third time of the week."

Kaeya laughs with no soul and quickly ends the lovely 'conversation.' He pushes himself from the table and stands, "Thank you for chatting with me, it's been interesting." He tucks in the chair and glances at the two Fatui dozing, or close to dozing off.

He swiftly turns away, scoffing when he's out of sight from people. Vindicta is a dangerous card. Not even the Fatui know where their loyalties side.

Vindicta. How peculiar indeed.

One of the best Fatui, which probably meant they were payed well with respect and mora, but why are they labeled as an escapee when they always return? With someone as dangerous as a Harbinger, who do they side with- the Fatui or something else?

Kaeya has a lot of questions.

...

Diluc sits on a cushioned chair and hunches over, resting his chin on his hands, thinking.

Always thinking.

The once lit fireplace is soaked with water he splashed over. The scent of burnt wood wafts nearby. The light chatter of maids go through one ear and leave the other.

How long had it been since he last saw you?

Eternity is his answer. It's been eternity since he last saw you.

He lets out a long sigh, throwing his head back and running a hand through his untied locks.

Too much thinking for today. Diluc groans in frustration and sits back up. He turns his head slightly, seeing you in the corner of his eyes taking out boxes of things you owned from 10 years before.

It doesn't make sense to him. Why come back so suddenly after years of not seeing you? Though, you claim you sent him letters, he never got them because he closed himself off from the Knights.

"Diluc," you set down a small picture of a family portrait you took out from hiding behind many books.

You are taking this oddly well.

You're taking this too well, in fact.

This raises a red flag for Diluc. He told you the fall out of your family, how he quit the Knights, but still you're going around the place like nothing had happened.

Don't you feel any rage? Or even sadness?

He sees too many red flags and hates it- from the way you can hide things like Kaeya so easily, to the way you just suddenly appear back in his life. It feels weird. It's not easy to let someone that in quick, yet you're still his role model, so it's okay, right?

He's always looked up to you when he was younger. You never were at a loss of words and stood up for him. You were the person he can turn to when something wrong happens, but what were you doing for yourself to be gone for so long? Adventuring Teyvat could not have taken ten whole years. Where did you even stay?

"Diluc," you crouch in front of him and talk to him as if he were six again. "I'm okay, okay?"

Diluc takes a shaky breath and sits up straight. His posture resembling a king's. "I have an idea, and I would like you to help me."

You look at him in awe. The realization settles in: Diluc has grown, and you're still stuck trying to make up the past.

"And what do I help you with?"

"Finding who's responsible for father's death."

notes: had this in my drafts for a long time and i was like "wait where was i going with this..." until BAM i have the idea again so im gonna continue it

(part 2)

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader

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retrogalwrites · 4 years

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smelly gamer shigaraki x gf reader

Title: “Washing service” / view on ao3

Summary: There's is only one way to make Shigaraki take a bath. surprise, it’s nasty.

Contents: titfucking/paizuri, masturbation, shiggy’s nasty cum, humilliation, Shigaraki being a smelly bad bf

words: 1565

"Tomura please, you seriously stink."

Repeating yourself for perhaps the 5th time, you stood by the man with a look on your face that somehow seemed both demanding and pleading, hands firmly set on your hips even if you were, quite frankly, exhausted. "You need to take a shower, it's been what, over a week?" More or less, certainly, but keeping exact tract of the numbers was bound to only frustrate you further, it was better not to.

Shigaraki was a very messy man, with hygienic habits that were less than ideal, you had known that from the start, but it usually never got this bad. With a little bit of nudging from your side he usually got around doing at least the bare minimum to take care of himself.

The thing was that, he had recently gotten a brand new video game. Single player farming type of game, or something, you didn't really care. What you cared about was how he had become completely addicted to it, and had refused to step away from his computer for the past few days. It was out of the question that he needed to take a break, and shower. It was not an unreasonable concern, nor an unreasonable request, if anything you thought of yourself reasonable to a fault.

But just like the previous times, expected at that point, Shigaraki didn't bother to even spare you a pity glance, only kept on staring at the monitors in front of him, hands on his keyboard. Leisurely plopped down on his gaming chair, posture somehow as bad as it had been before he bought it, Shigaraki groaned at you.

"God, stop nagging me already." That curt, dismissive reply was accompanied by a roll of his eyes that made you frown. "Can't you fucking see I'm busy? I'll get to that eventually, now buzz off."

"But you've been playing for days without a break, please just—"

"Shut the fuck up already."

He raised his voice. You hated when he did that, and it made you flinch. It easily turned that frown into a crestfallen expression, something Shigaraki noticed through the reflection of the monitor. Unsurprisingly, that made him grin suddenly, dry lips curving sardonically, and only then he finally tore his eyes away from the game to turn and look at you. That look prolonged into a quiet stare, his expression becoming something like pensive and amused.

It was a small win, but not enough, and you were getting desperate. And, as if knowing exactly what was going through your mind, Shigaraki breathed through his nose, then huffed.

"If you are that fucking desperate why don't you bathe me yourself, huh?" His grin could only grow when you looked at him with those big doe-like eyes, a little surprised and a little flustered. And with resolve, you replied only a little hesitantly.

"I will do anything."

————

The bathroom was, in contrast to his much messier bedroom, a tidy spot coated in pearly white tiles and walls, most pristine with how much you often cleaned up the place, knowing that he wouldn't if you didn't.

Inside, you had gotten Shigaraki naked sitting on a stool, already waiting impatiently. The bathtub had only finished filling up with hot water, and you knew that if you didn't start right away, he'd abruptly change his mind without sparing you another thought.

You were equally naked too, of course, that was the real catch of the entire idea. Shigaraki was very predictable on that aspect at least, for better or worse. And it wouldn't even cross your mind, not for one second, to refuse either.

So, with a sponge and scented soap in hand, you sat bare right behind him. Sucking in some air, you brought the shower head to him and started spraying cool water down his back.

It wasn't a surprise he had been smelling unpleasantly, as you saw how the skin of his back was coated on a light layer of dirt and grime. Rubbing the soap against the damp sponge, you made sure it was coated in slippery foam before you started scrubbing Shigaraki's back with it.

You had barely started when he called out with annoyance, his voice low, like his breath was quickening.

"Hey, hey, you aren't putting enough effort."

You flinched, paused, then in full understanding of what he meant, quickly sprayed the front of your body with the shower head. The water wasn't cold, but it was cool enough that your tender nipples already had begun hardening. Scooping a bit of foam from the sponge, you lathered it over your breasts with a hand, making sure they were slippery with water and soap.

Then, leaning forward, you pressed your soft, soap coated breasts flush against the broadness of Shigaraki's back.

His reaction was immediate, a shudder rocked his body, muscles tensed and back arching to press into your breasts harder. A hissed moan slurring through gritted teeth.

"Ooh, fuck..."

You couldn't help but react as well, the sensation of skin against skin causing a violent shiver to run through you, thighs pressed together trying to relieve the sudden tickle that creeped up your core, a sudden need that you couldn't allow to distract you now.

So, like that started to scrub him down, starting from his back, to his slender neck, his strong shoulders. You cleaned him off slowly, dutifully while making sure that your round, slippery tits were rubbing all over him. After a minute or so, when you placed away the sponge and soap, moving your hands to pick up some shampoo, but Shigaraki turned to stop you. You stared at his face, lightly flushed and hot, his pupils dilated and positively hungry.

"Aren't you going to do the front too?"

He asked with urgency, his voice hoarse, but it sounded like a demand.

"In a moment, I need to wash your hair and—"

Trying to explain was futile, Shigaraki had already turned around to face you entirely, it was then that you could see his erection, cock already fully hard and throbbing, the supple head of his cock hitting his abdomen. You helplessly stared at it, a sudden heat pooling between your already slick thighs. You mouthed a simple 'oh'.

Shigaraki stood up then, towering over you with his hard, dirty cock being placed mere inches from your face. The potent smell of his musk and arousal was overpowering, and it made you wrinkle your nose. You didn't get a chance to speak up however, and whatever you may have said was lost when a moan was ripped off your lips as Shigaraki roughly groped both of your tits.

"If you aren't going to do it then I'll just use these fat tits to clean my cock."

And immediately he was plunging himself in between your breasts, using his fingers to dig into the soft flesh and squeeze it around his cock, the shaft buried in the valley of your tits. Shigaraki shuddered, lips tightening as a groan purred at his throat before he began thrusting his hips into your cleavage, using the foam coated, slippery mounds of flesh to rub his cock throughly.

You whined, gasping at the painful stimulation on your chest, his bruising touch on your breasts while his hot cock slipped in and out of them, the slickness of the soap making it easy. Your brows furrowed, and you were bitting your lips, the need between your legs becoming unbearable.

Without even thinking, you brought your own fingers to your pussy, digits entering through your puffy folds. Your walls tightened around your own fingers, as you fucked yourself with them in desperation.

Shigaraki noticed such lewd act, of course, and an ample sadistic grin twisted his features.

"Ooh you really like this, don't you? My filthy cock fucking your tits? You damn slut, touching yourself."

Despite his own desperation, Shigaraki was never above mocking you, laughing lowly and grinning down at your flushed face.

Teasing your engorged clit, you knew how to drive yourself to the high of orgasm quite quickly, pinching the sensitive nub as you fingered yourself, and Shigaraki used your breasts like toy for his own pleasure. When you felt the hard buds of your nipples rubbing against his shaft, you meekly mewled his name, back arching and toes curling, your orgasm reaching its peak as your insides clamped down on your fingers, coating them in the slick of your release.

"Ahh, Tomura!"

Just watching you cum was enough to fire him up. "Fuck, fuck...I'm going to cum." He huffed, brows furrowing and grip on you tightening. He was about to blow his load.

"I'm going to cum between these slutty tits."

He groaned, head lolling back as he shut his eyes, body shivering while he kept his cock snugly wrapped by your breasts. Soon the feeling of his hot, smelly semen flooding your cleavage was the only thing you could think of. Shigaraki shot thick jets of cum all over your breasts, coating your skin with it until you were but a sticky mess.

You tried to stand up on wobbly feet, already walking towards the towels to try clean yourself up, but Shigaraki stopped you, roughly grabbing you by the wrist.

"Where do you think are you going?" His red eyes started at yours, wide smile stretching his chapped lips. "Get in the tub."

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki thirst #i always imagine this is what being shigaraki's gf would entail

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purplelurkinghini · 3 years

Text

Narcissus by the Pond

0. PROLOGUE��

Under the cut is the prologue to yet another multi-chapter mess I am planning to write. What is different about this one is the narrator: Edward Nygma himself. Another aspect of this piece that sets it apart from the rest of my writing is its epistolary form. That’s right, baby! First-person POV!

If you’ve seen >> this << post floating around, this is indeed me actually putting that second prompt to use.

Enjoy!

Dear ▚▛▙▙

I found a cat toy while cleaning out my closet today. It was that ashy plush mouse stuffed with dried nepeta cataria which you spent money on instead of saving up for your student loans. If he were still here, he’d be rolling around on the floor in some vivid dream in which he was a lion and it was a gazelle. And, if you were still here, I would’ve asked you to stay.

The day you got that tabby’s claws into me was the day you checked into work late. Frank, our project manager and your internship supervisor, had to drop his showman act and instill in you the fear all WayneTech employees are motivated by. After you offered your excuses and exchanged glances with the floor, you were free to enter the kitchen to heat up the coffees that you went out of your way to fetch for us each morning.

My daily routine, which you’ve played no small role in forming during your short stay with us, was disrupted by the absence of caffeine in my bloodstream. I remember my Rubik’s cube and how I crammed a corner into my palm, squeezing down on the still unscrambled sides. I would call it an ‘absentminded’ action, but we both know that would be an incorrect assessment. My mind is never not present, even as it wanders. For this reason, when you finally came out of the kitchen, I couldn’t not wonder what happened to your sweatshirt. It must’ve been soaked in rainwater, I concluded, and that was the reason you removed it. Or, rather, that was the excuse you used as you removed it. After all, your sneakers were soggy, but you couldn't exactly walk barefoot all over a corporate. Even so, there you were, in a far too small t-shirt which was too tight around your torso and too short to cover your stomach, walking around the office with your brewed bribes.

“Here you go, Jim” you placed the foam cup right in front of his face to get him to notice you. I’d argue that that slip of skin that was eye level to him was enough to get that scatterbrain's attention. He must’ve made a joke, or attempted to, because you laughed louder than anyone should around him.

“Cory,” you sauntered over to him. “I asked the barista for two tablespoons and a half this time.” Sure, he might’ve taken his glasses off before taste-testing it, but his lenses were fogged-up before the lid came off. You felt the most confidence around Cory, the least confident one in our team. While no line of code was too complex for him, women were a mystery he had yet to solve. You see, I haven’t failed to notice you making the most physical contact with him, brushing your hand against his as a means of disarming him.

After he served you a stuttered smile, you moved on to Paul who was pretending to be preoccupied with his screen. He’d been watching you since you walked out of the kitchen, yet still acted surprised when you showed up next to him. You didn’t mean to disturb him, of course, so you tip-toed around his desk, silently setting the cup on a coaster. He thanked you without taking his eyes off of his work, but took the time to watch you walk away as soon as you turned away from him.

"I'm sorry, Ed," you pouted as you placed the coffee on top of a stack of papers. "I know like to have your coffee before 8, but the storm hit while I was in the shop and the whole street took cover in there-"

"Slow down," I released the Rubik’s cube, flexing my fingers. "I'm not your supervisor. It’s not my forgiveness you need."

"Well, no, but I actually want your forgiveness," you covered your mouth in a coquettish display. "I mean-"

“Like I said,” I brush off the blush creeping up on my cheeks. "There's no use for that." Fetching the foam cup, I take a sip of the scolding beverage and brave through it. “There's no use to ask the barista to write our full names either. This calligraphy exercise cost you a scolding from Frank.”

“Actually,” you pulled the hem of your shirt down which only uncovered more of your cleavage instead of hiding your stomach. “I wrote your name myself.”

I stroked the surface of the cup right across the script. Again, I can’t call this action ‘absentminded’ either, but my mind had wandered off again. That lovely lettering was yours and so was the green marker, so you must’ve scavenged your backpack for it on a crowded morning train. You also must’ve taken your time steadying your hand for each stroke, each dot. E. Nygma. You also must’ve cleaned up the cup as it inevitably spilled and steadied your tongue for each stroke, each lick. Maybe you ever sampled the coffee yourself, the taste of cherry Chapstick staining the rim.

“Well,” you interrupted my intrusive thoughts. “Jim’s showing me the new user interface, so-”

“Of course,” I dismissed you and my daydreams.

“Talk to you later.”

Yes, that was the day the cat got his claws into me. It was after I’d drained the drink, and found myself restless still, that I made my way into the kitchen for another one. That is when I spotted you in the corner, cradling the sweatshirt you discarded earlier. At the sound of my steps, you straightened your back, but you didn’t turn your torso towards me.

“Hey, Ed,” you smiled and it was a painful sight because I couldn’t ignore the panic I ignited in your eyes. “Lunchtime already?”

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, trying to dry my shirt?”

The closer I got, the more gregarious you grew. You asked about what I’d like to eat, what the guys would like to eat, if I’d like to order out. You didn’t stop until I asked it of you.

“What are you hiding from me?”

Before you could bellow out something long enough to cover the sound, I heard it.

“Did your hoodie just meow?”

It was only then that you turned, facing me fully. “Please don’t tell Frank, but this is the reason I was running late.” Two pairs of eyes were pleading with me. One belonged to you and they were begging. The other belonged to an orange ball of fur and they were unblinking.

You were holding a bottle cap filled with water up to its meowing maw, so you must’ve been attempting to keep the animal hydrated, even after rescuing it from the streets in the middle of a storm. You bought kitten kibbles on your way to WayneTech and that had eaten ten minutes of your time and cost you a scolding from Frank.

“I couldn’t just leave Eddie to drown in a ditch somewhere.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah,” you let it sink its little teeth into your skin as it held a single finger close with two whole paws. They feel like needles, I should know, but you carried on cooing the pincushion. “He reminds me of another green-eyed ginger. Maybe you know him.”

Yes, you remember now, don’t you? That was the moment Eddie sunk his claws into me, and I do mean it literally. He released your finger only to get his paws trapped into my button-up. I also mean it figuratively, as I swore to keep your secret the very next second. And, once you were by my side, shadowing me as I was coding like you wanted to since your first day of internship, you made me swear to keep him. How could I not? Your dorm had a ‘no pets’ policy and you had named him after me.

The two of us had time to get acquainted after you left for your evening classes. I fed him the kibbles and was careful not to get caught. And, because I wouldn't be using it that day anyway, I replaced your sweatshirt with my gym towel. While it smelled like a sad, soaked kitten, whatever fruity fragrance you were using had yet to fade from the fabric. That evening I drove straight home as soon as I left WayneTech, skipping my daily workout. My daily routine, as I’ve mentioned, had been modified by you.

“We don't even need to potty train him,” you giggled when you saw Eddie digging through the brand new litter box I had ordered. It had been waiting for me by the front entrance along with the delivery guy and yourself.

You got into a cab before even texting me, asking for an address only after the driver started the clock. I expected that stupid stunt from the likes of Jim, not you.

“He's a clever boy,” I smiled when I saw you were still wearing the green button-up shirt I asked you to exchange that shrunken t-shirt of yours with. “Like his namesake.”

You kneeled before the kitten and produced the plush mouse I'd only seen Eddie play with once. “Did the shampoo arrive? He should be high enough to not scratch our eyes out now.”

After rolling around on the rug with a bag full of catnip, he seemed blissed out enough for a bath. And, after only scratching you twice as you held him for me to scrub his ginger fur ever so gently, we got him all dried and drained. Those green eyes were barely opened as he looked up at us from the cat bed he was supposed to grow into and the sweatshirt he had grown fond of.

“Now we know he hates all water,” you said through gritted teeth as I sanitized your shaking hands. Your fingers were as fidgety as Cory's, yet I doubt his skin was ever that soft. “Not just the rain.”

“I bet he'd hate flees more,” I caressed your knuckles after bandaging the bloody bits.

“I hate the rain, too,” your eyes were downcast, much like earlier that morning, seemingly searching my sheets for something. “I never knew Frank could be so-”

“Terrifying?”

“Mean,” your giggle wasn't as gleeful as I'd grown used to. “I thought he was going to fire me right then and there.”

“He wouldn't,” I squeezed down on the shadows of your hands as they were snatched away from me. Then, I leaned in close and almost brushed your love with my lips as they moved: “He will let the anxiety that comes with that uncertainty eat you alive first.”

“See, now you're being mean,” you laughed, finally looking up at me.

“Me? Never,” I said, satisfied with myself. You were laughing - actually laughing - because of me.

When the dryer dinged, I was confident in leaving you in my bedroom with a smile on your face. After all, I was the one who brought you in there and I was the one who brought that out of you. Once I've collected your clothes, I returned to find you had already removed my button-up and was drying up the rest of your skin with one of my towels. You were turned only half the way, so you must've perceived me in your periphery. Paul pulled the same thing earlier today. Still, you sounded surprised as you covered the side of your breasts I bet you wanted me to see.

"Forgive me,” I turned around, but, unlike you, I did it all the way. “Here you are,” I stretched my arm behind me to hand you the bra and t-shirt.

“Thank you.” It was only after your bomber jacket was zipped to your chin that I dared to look at you directly. Your sweatshirt was Eddie's now, so you covered up with what you had. “For everything.”

“Let me drive you to your dorm.”

"You've already done enough," you pulled out your phone as I walked you to the door. “I'll just call another cab. Eddie needs you here. You need to wear him out, or he'll wear you out tonight.”

“Cats are crepuscular creatures,” I assure you. “Not nocturnal. I'm sure he'll fall asleep before I even turn in for the night.”

Yes, I was sure he'd fall. However, Eddie was so convinced. And, sure enough, there he was, meowing in my face at midnight.

My mistake was letting him get his claws into me. You see, I couldn't bear waking that little bastard up. Not when he looked so small in the middle of your sweatshirt, in the middle of his bed. He finally had a dry place to dream in and I couldn't take that away from him, so I let him sink his claws into me that much deeper.

And yours, as well.

After chasing him with my hand atop of my covers and letting him swat at the finger-spider, he was ready for bed. My bed. Yes, his green eyes were drooping when he surrendered to sleep. It just so happened that he did it on the left side of my bed. And I, not willing to risk another rude awakening, placed him atop of the pillow. Then, ever so silently, I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. It was on my way back that I stumbled upon it: your sweatshirt.

I recall calling it off the floor and taking it with me to bed. For Eddie, of course. He loved that sweatshirt, as I'm sure you know. However, as I placed it on his pillow, I caught a whiff of it. It smelled like rainwater, pet shampoo, Eddie, and you. It was your sweat and deodorant, sweet and soapy, just as I had smelled it on my shirt before tossing it in the laundry basket and I couldn't smell it on the left side of my bed.

As I closed my eyes, I saw you. You were walking around the office, their wandering eyes watching you. You pass my desk and I am drenched in your scent. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Your sweatshirt is drenched, so you discard it. Your t-shirt is too tight, so I can see the dip of your belly button and the swell of your breasts. Though I am convinced you had a bra to cover them, my mind wanders. It wanders about the color of your nipples and it paints a picture of them peeking through the flimsy fabric.

And, as my mind wanders further, that flimsy fabric is pulled down, your hands wriggling at the hem of it. That's when those peeks pop out along with the rest. All of a sudden, you're soaking. Sweet. Soapy. You even try to hide this from me, crossing your arms over your chest. I capture your hands, soft skin, and fidgeting fingers, and wrestle with them. Oh, how easily you surrendered to me, sighing in defeat. I lock your arms behind your back with one hand and squeeze your tit like a stress toy. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I had to taste it.

When my tongue touched the tip, you pushed against it, filling my mouth with your flesh. You wanted this. That nipple is as sharp as a needle, but it melts in the heat of my mouth. You wanted this. After your tit is slick with my saliva and the peak is all puffy, I gather the other one in my grip and repeat. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

You wanted this and you told me as much. You said it loud enough for the others to hear. You wanted this. You wanted me. And, as if I haven't done enough, as if I haven't given you enough, I gave you all of me. Clearing the desk, cube, keypad, computer, and all, I slam you atop the surface. I had to pull down your pants for you, but your legs part all on their own. As for your panties, well, they all but dissolved under the duress. You attempt to hide from me again, tightening your thighs together. And, again, you surrender to me all too easily. After all, you want me. Your pussy? As I parted your legs and pushed your knees up to your chest, I saw how much she wanted me. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

However, I was not in a hurry. No matter how hot were your insides and how cold the chills were down my spine, I still took my sweet, soapy, soaking time. I set myself loose, my length slapping against your ass once it sprang free. You shivered, your back arching like a bow and your hands treading through your tangled hair. You wanted me. I took my time, sandwiching my shaft between your pussy lips, sliding across the slick and even wearing your labia as a hood atop its head for a maddening moment. It was only when you began begging, mewling to be mated that I gave myself to you. I crammed my cock inside of your cunt and went in so deep, I felt your heartbeat as your inner walls collapsed around me.

Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I fucked you into a fever, your skin as slick as your insides and your mouth leaking as much saliva as your pussy was spilling precum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Soon, it would've been spilling cum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. When I did come, however, it was in my fist and not between your lips.

As I opened my eyes, you disappeared. There was nothing there to greet me but the strike of the street lights slashing the darkness across the ceiling. Your sweetness had been replaced with my saltiness. It was indeed soapy and soaking, but it wasn’t you. Then, for the second time that night, I slipped out of bed and snuck into the bathroom.

The day you got cat’s claws into my shirt was the day you sunk your own under my skin. After that day, we shared a secret. I never told Frank about Eddie, but Eddie never told you about what I did in the dark. His glowing green eyes didn’t judge me, but they never let me forget. After you left without a notice, ginning up your internship, changing your phone number and never surrendering your real name, I couldn’t face them anymore. His eyes never let me forget, so I rehomed him.

I found your Gotham U sweatshirt while cleaning out my closet today. The name you gave WayneTech is nowhere to be found in their student records. Your name can’t be found in any police records either. Your real name, however, I am sure will uncover quite the mystery.

Yours,

E. NYGMA

#Edward Nygma #Riddler #Edward Nygma x Reader #Riddler x Reader #It is Not Safe For Work #Riddler x You #Edward Nygma x You

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jay-and-dean · 5 years

Text

Room 028

Dean x reader (?)

Summary : You’re sent back in time, and meet people you know… And someone you never got to meet.

Warnings : Fluff, baby Winchesters, cuteness. Angst. Very slightly implied smut.

Words : 4.6k

Note : I have this story in mind for years… I know it’s a little different but I needed it out. I hope you will like it.

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

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“What the…” you said looking around.

One minute before you were with Sam and Dean, hunting down that stupid fanatical angel, it was day light, and it was a warm and sunny summer.

You wrapped your arms around your naked shoulder, the sudden winter night biting your skin suddenly. It was… snowing ?

You looked down to note you were still wearing the same clothes : a black tank top, and Dean’s grey flannel tied around the belt of your jeans.

A motel parking. You looked up to the street lamp, the little snowflakes spinning around it in the night. That didn’t make sense at all.

What if that feathery douche had zap you somewhere ?

When the Impala appeared in your field of vision, parked and empty, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Dean” you murmured, just needing to find your friend again.

The parking was almost empty, so you assumed that he had parked the car the closest to his bedroom door.

Room 028.

You tried to look through the window before you knocked, to be sure you weren’t mistaking, but didn’t see the brother’s bags.

“Dean ?” you tried through the door, but finally decided to knock. “Dean, it’s me.”

When the door opened, you frowned. No one was here, like the door had opened by itself.

“Are you a friend of dad ?” a little voice caught your attention, making you look down.

A tiny boy, maybe five or six years old, was holding the door with a wary look. You frowned, wondering what kind of parents would let the little one open the door in such a place, at night.

“I’m sorry I must have mistaken” you mumbled, but the beautiful green eyes looking back at you made you shiver.

“You called me” the little boy said.

Your heart missed a beat and you squatted to look at him closer. His freckles were discreetly covering his angelic skin, and every single thing was perfect on this innocent face.

“Dean ?” you tried, choking in disbelief.

And when he nodded, your mouth stayed agape.

How could this boy be Dean, your Dean, the man chopping heads a few minutes ago, the man…

You wanted to take him in your arms but this little boy didn’t knew you, and his suspicious look wouldn’t let you forget that.

“Are you a friend of dad ?” he asked again, searching your face with what was going to become in a few years, his frightening threatening face.

“Y-yes” you said.

“Prove it !”

You smiled, smart little thing.

“Your dad’s name is John Winchester, the car behind me is his, he asked me to come check on Sammy and you.”

He hesitated a few seconds, then sighs.

“Sammy has been crying” he said with a tired voice, opening the door more to let you in, and your heart broke, imagining him alone with a crying baby.

If Dean was five or six years old, Sam couldn’t be more than two.

You entered, looking around the room. It was, indeed, the eighties here. You rubbed your face and took a deep breath. Weird was usual… But your best friends being babies. That’s was another kind of strange.

Many times, during Dean’s drunk confessions about not having had a childhood, or his jokes about the food he used to make for Sam, you dreamed about having the occasion to hug the little boy he was, the boys they were…

“I don’t hear him cry, where is Sammy ?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

Dean took your hand and guided you to the other room. Here was a baby bed and two queens. Sam, that cute little boy in a sleep suit, was sitting behind the bars, big tears on his red baby face.

He must have been calling for a long time. But Dean couldn’t reach him… You noticed Dean must have thrown everything he could above the bars of his bed to find what was wrong ; there was toys, food, covers…

You swallowed, trying not to cry, both thinking about what your partners had been through, and about these poor little creatures here and now.

When you got close, Sam got up on his tiny legs. Taking him in your arms, you got surprised that he wasn’t wary at all. He was wet, and quite cold in this poorly heated room.

“I think he needs changing” Dean said and you smiled to hide your tears.

“Your baby brother does. But, I think he needs cleaning up too, what do you think little Bean ?” you hid the sadness deep in your voice and Dean shrugged. “Come here.”

You opened the bathroom door and turned on the light, talking to Sam.

“Hey Sammy, I’m Y/n. I’m daddy’s friend… You’re all cold huh ?” his tiny hand grabbed the strap of your tank top and his intense eyes searched your face, waiting for a smile to read if you were friend or not.

The second you gave him one, he offered you the cutest dimpled smile back and said something in baby’s language that was not understandable but you answered anyway.

“Yes, Sammy, you’re pretty.”

Your turned to Dean and noticed his t-shirt was stained.

You had no idea what to do, how to come back to present or anything, but you were certain of one thing : you would give your life to protect the precious boys.

“You’ll wash too, little Bean, chop chop, take off those dirty clothes. Where is your bag ? And Sam’s ?”

The kid you actually knew so well without having seeing him at all before showed you the bags. After taking fresh clothes for both of them and a diaper, you guided Dean in the shower, and filled the sink with warm water to wash this tiny version of Sam.

Dean started to clumsily rub his belly with soap, and his little feet. You kept an eye on him while rinsing Sam’s soft hair, trying not to put water in his face.

“I can’t do my hair !” Dean called.

You wrapped Sam in a towel, rubbing his head and back to prevent him to be cold. And, letting him stand beside you, you washed his brother’s hair, thinking of how many times you dreamed of joining him in the shower… How ironic was it ?

“We are going to tell dad that you’re the one washing my hair all the time now !” he explained showing you his face. “Look, no foam in my eyes.”

Your heart broke even more at the thought you will never be here to take care of him… Not until almost thirty years.

Baby Dean was the most independent child you have ever seen, and watching him dry his tiny legs like a little man, putting on his light blue pajamas by himself made you emotional again. But Sam’s baby words caught your attention and you closed his diaper.

“Yes Sammy, I know you’re cold, sorry, here. Oh that’s better in dry clothes, huh ?”

“He will be hungry” Dean stated. “Dad made a baby bottle.”

“A baby bottle ?” you said smiling to the pretty little boy in your arms, your head coming closer to his to allow him to grab your face. “If Sam can walk, he can eat like you.”

Making the mac and cheese you had found, you smiled at how guiding Dean was, standing on the chair next to you to survey your every moves. With Sam sitting on your hip, you felt your heart finally getting a little warmer, their radiant smiles lightening the room.

“Don’t touch little Bean, it’s very hot.”

“I’m not a beeean !” he pouted.

“I know, but… I have a friend, a friend I really love ; he is the strongest and the bravest. His name is Dean, like you.”

“Really ?” he smiled and you couldn’t help but bend and put a tender kiss on the top of his head.

“Yes, and I call him Deanie Bean, so I though, as you are strong and brave too, but still little, you could be little Bean… What do you think ?”

“Okay" he shrugged. “But I will grow big as my dad !” he smiled proudly, lifting his little hands in the air and standing on his tiptoes.

“You will little Bean… you will. And Sammy too !” you chuckled, thinking at how incredible it was to be able to carry this future giant.

“No I’m the big brother, Sam will be smaller than me” Dean stated and you rubbed his back, somehow unable to not give him all your love, even on a weird motherly form.

"Okay, little Bean, you’re the tallest.”

“What is your name ?” he asked with that small voice of his.

“Y/n”

“Y/n” Sammy repeated with baby mistakes.

You turned to put Sam on the high chair, and sit between the boys. The second Dean started to eat, you recognized him even more, his appetite and clumsy eating making your heart miss a beat.

While watching and helping Sam, you started cutting the few fruits you had found, an apple, an old banana on witch you kept only the good parts, and a lemon.

“So… Where is your dad ?” you asked, cutting the apple in little cubes.

“He is out for work” Dean stated, getting up to pick up the towel his brother had let fall from his lap. “Why do you cut fruits ?”

“Because you’re going to eat it, it’s good for you.”

“What ? Groooss” Dean protested, running to the TV.

“Little Bean, come here” you chuckled.

But your face soon faded, and your heart fell on your guts when the door opened and a really angry John Winchester pointed a gun at your face.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU !” he yelled and Sam started to cry.

“John… wait…” you said holding your hands in the air. “I’m a friend I swear, just… Let me talk.”

He ran to Sam and grabbed him, hiding Dean behind his leg, still holding the barrel of his gun right at your face.

“I swear John, I’m not a monster, you can test me with silver and everything… I’m a hunter, I swear, I… I knew Bobby Singer !”

“How did you enter ?” he asked stern, barely audible behind Sam’s sobs.

You didn’t answer right away, searching something to say but he turned to Dean right away.

“DID YOU OPEN THE DOOR !” he yelled and baby Dean flinched, breaking your heart. “DEAN I SWEAR…”

“NO !” you pointed your finger at that man you always feared a little, without even knowing him. “DON’T YELL AT HIM !”

Dean took a step back and suddenly, the gun pointing at you was unimportant. You ran and fell on your knees, taking him protectively in your arms with John’s armed hand following you.

“Let go of my son” he ordered.

“C-can’t you see the boys are terrified ?” you groaned, staring back at him with wet dark eyes and an air of defiance.

You kept rubbing Dean’s back and, seeing his brother in your arms, Sam tried to reach you, spreading his baby arms toward you and almost jumping of John’s arms.

“It’s okay little Bean, it’s just a grown up fight, it’s not your fault, your daddy and I will talk calmly now…” you said, giving Sam a sad look because you couldn’t take him in your arms.

“Name” John ordered, lowering his gun, but keeping it in hand.

“Y/n”

Sam’s sobs were still deafening.

“Who are you ?”

“I’m a hunter” you stated “I can prove anything you want, I even knew Mary. Just… Let me comfort Sammy please…”

“Mary ?” he choked on her name.

You dared getting on your feet to cautiously grab Sam but Dean wouldn’t let go of you so you carried him as you can. John allowed you, too stunned by the name of his love.

“Come here Sammy… yeah… here, look Dean is here, nothing can happen to you baby boy…”

“How did you know May ?” John asked, but the two brothers were too heavy, and that was all you could think of at this moment.

“Can I sit ?” you dared.

“Yes but one move I don’t like and you’re dead” he threatened.

But his threats seemed so far from you when Dean nuzzled on you, grabbing the sleeve of his own grown up flannel to wipe his tears.

“Whatever” you stated, putting a kiss on Sam’s forehead.

“How do you know my boys” John asked, stern, staying on his feet to make it clear he did not trust you.

“Listen, it’s… Complicated. I would rather not talk about it in front of them…” you sighed, looking into Dean’s big wet eyes.

“Then I’ll put them to bed” he moved but you stopped him with a pleading hand.

“John, please, Sam is still shaking. Give them a minute… Please.”

“What can you tell me now then ?” he grunted and you couldn’t help but smile a little, suddenly seeing a little of Dean in his father.

“I know your boys, I knew Bobby, look, he gave me his watch because I was found of it…”

“I saw him next week and he still had it” he frowned.

“You know uncle Bobby ?” Dean mumbled and you smiled to him, ignoring his father each time he needed your attention.

“Yes little Bean” you tried to hide your sadness deep down, thinking about his funeral and about how Sam and Dean got affected by his death…

You finally looked up to meet John’s intimidating green eyes.

“I knew Rufus too, I even met Missouri once. I’m not an enemy, John… And believe me I would never hurt your boys, I would die for them in heartbeat.”

“You’re going to die ?” Dean half panicked and you put your forehead on his, immediately needing to calm him.

“No. No Dean I’m not, and when you will be big and strong, I will still be here, okay ? You’re my best friend, little Bean.”

At your words, the little boy relaxed and even gave you a shy smile. Death was already something really clear in his head, it wasn’t supposed to yet, but the future hero already had the foundations of what was going to be his burden…

John was staring at you with a harsh face that seemed to hide a confused expression.

“Baby Bean” you pushed his hair a little. “Your daddy and I need to talk a little, would you mind take your little brother with you in the bedroom ? I’ll put some Scooby doo, I know you like it, right ?”

He nodded but still seemed a little worried, searching his father’s face.

“I will join you just after, Dean” John stated.

“And I’ll kiss you and Sammy goodnight” you added with a reassuring smile. “I promise.”

Dean got up and you followed him in the bedroom, putting Sam on the bed next to him with the stuffed animal from his bed.

“Here, Sammy, you stay with Dean a little ?” you asked him and he searched your face before letting go of your arms.

“No, Sammy has own bed !” Dean protested when his little brother crawled next to him.

“Well for now he will stay a little with you, just make sure he doesn’t fall from the bed, okay ?” you said, noticing John behind you when the little boy looked at him for approbation.

He must have nodded because Dean sat better, opening his arms to his little brother.

“Come here Sammy, if you stay close you won’t fall” he stated with a too serious tone that made you smile.

When you closed the door, your heart sank. That was it… You had to be alone with the man you never knew what to think of.

John Winchester was your best friends hero but… You also came to the realization along the years… with hints and Dean’s words and meeting this guy from the boys house -Sonny-… That, if he seemed to be a great man, he was not a great father. Depression, obsession and alcohol had made him neglectful… And you never really knew how far it went… you weren’t sure he never physically abused the most important man in your life.

You turned to him and he seemed surprised at how stern your face was now. But what he didn’t know was that you could fight a thousand men like him to shield the boys in the room behind you.

He took a beer, without offering you one.

“You’re good with kids” he stated.

“Not really, I’m just good with your sons” you answered.

“Maybe you need a babysitter job” he said taking a sit and you frowned at his macho words, sitting in front of him.

“I’m a hunter, not a babysitter. And I’m really good at my job” you answered a little coldly.

“How do you know my sons, they never leave me, and I have never seen you” he asked, still trying to scare you a little.

And honestly he could have impressed you, frightened you even, but Dean’s face was burned in your mind, your Dean, the man he had become. So no one could really impress you more than that… And nothing could really scare you except losing him.

“Never leave them…” you scoffed.

“Excuse me ?” he frowned.

“John…” you adjusted in your seat, weighting your words. “No offence but… You’re already neglecting them” he opened his mouth but you put your hands in front of you as a peace offering. “I know… I know you need to find who killed Mary. And you will, believe me, actually Dean will k… Anyway. John… Sam was wet and crying when I found them, Dean was dirty and… They are too young to be alone…”

“Dean is a big boy, he can…”

“No” you cut him. “Dean is a little boy who lost his mom and house, his school and his friends all at once. He doesn’t need to lose his dad too… He’s not a father, and he’s not a soldier.”

“How dare you ? How can you talk like you knew anything, girl ?” he sat straighter, his tone hard.

“It will get worse, John, and one day, you will regret treating them like that… I know it, because you’re hurt but you love them…”

He searched your face, like he was trying to decide if he should listen to what you had to say, or cut your throat. And you thanked whoever was responsible in your head, to not have to have this conversation with the John from a few years later. The boys were still young, Mary was still close to his heart… He hadn’t turned to stone yet.

“I need answers now” he stated. “Or you’re out.”

“You’re used to supernatural… But what I’m about to say might surprise you a little” you sighed and he chuckled, not taking you seriously. “I’m from the future. I’m actually not born yet.”

You waited and, surprisingly, he didn’t laugh.

“It’s impossible” he just stated.

“Believe me you have no idea what’s possible yet…” suddenly, an idea came to your mind and you dig your hand in your pocket. “This is my phone” you showed him. “And I can do everything with it, it’s something really… too much important, if you want my opinion, in the future, we all have one, and we don’t use it only to call people” you said, putting on some music, but of course you had no internet access.

His eyes were wide open, and he got closer to look at it. When you came back to the wallpaper of the main screen, he frowned.

“This guy… seems familiar, is he from Mary’s family ?” he asked and, for the first time, you felt actually bad for him.

“It’s Dean, John. This is your son.”

He looked up with wet eyes, instantly believing you. Like he could recognize his son with his heart, probably seeing little traits, little details that came from his family, from Mary’s family…

“Dean ?” he seemed suddenly emotional, not daring to take the phone from your hand. “He looks a lot like his mother…”

“And like you” you admitted, looking at the picture of you holding Dean from behind, your head on his shoulder. “See this flannel on the picture ?” You showed him the same at your waist. “John I know it’s a lot…”

“Show me more” he asked, rubbing his scruff in an attempt to gain some composure back.

You opened the gallery and showed him your favorite photo of the brothers, standing next to the impala. You had taken this picture last summer, they were laughing at some joke you had made, a beer in their hand, the light hitting the car in a magical way…

“Sam is taller than Dean… But you can’t tell baby Dean that” you smiled, trying to make your words a little lighter.

“My boys… They look happy” John said, holding back his tears.

“They have hard times but they are really good at enjoying life” you smiled. “They are the best man I ever knew. Really they are heroes beyond what you can imagine, they are the best hunters of the world, you can be proud… But, John… They suffered so much” you frowned, looking back at the picture of Dean and you, your heart hurting at how much you missed him now.

“You seem to… have a special bound with my son… with Dean. Are you two…”

A dark chuckle escaped your lips.

“We’re not together, if that’s what you’re asking. But I do… love him” you sighs, shaken because it was the very first time you said it out loud, to anyone, and now you were confessing in front of his father…

He marked a pause, his deep eyes searching your face, showing you who the man you loved got his thick lashes from.

“You love him ? Why don’t you tell him ? Is he married or something ?” he asked with a frown.

A few minutes before, you were an enemy… And now what ? He was going to make you talk like a girl friend about your feelings… No.

“He’s not. And I won’t. Like ever. End of this discussion.”

He smiled, amused, and you suddenly realized whom Sam got his dimples from, his smile was beautiful, and you really hoped his son could see him more often like that.

“From what I saw, you seem to be the best thing that could happen to him” he stated and your heart fell on your stomach.

You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t tell him that his son and you had this relationship, this “arrangement”, you signed up for happily at first, but that made you suffer so much you couldn’t always breathe properly at night. “Casual sex, no string attached” except it wasn’t strings, but thick ropes that were tying your heart to his anyway…

You couldn’t tell him that you could still feel the grip of his hands on your thighs from last night… So you stared back at him and nodded gratefully.

“Y/n ? Daddy ?” Dean appeared at the door, his feet pointing at each other in the cutest way.

Instead of answering, Dean looked at him with something a little different in his eyes.

“Scooby Doo is over…” he shrugged.

You got up and bended to take him in your arms, entering the room.

Sam was asleep, holding his worn out bunny in his tiny hands. You climbed the bed not letting Dean go, got comfortable leaning against the headboard and let the little boy find his place. John sat on the other bed, watching you.

“When do you have to leave ?” he asked low, watching his son curl up against you.

“I don’t want you to leave” Dean protested again and you sighed.

“I have no idea…”

“Can you be my new mommy ?” the little boy asked and you grimaced, putting your arm on Sam’s back protectively, Dean in the inside of your elbow.

“No, little Bean… You already have a mom, she’s in Heaven with angels, but you will see her again someday.”

“Then I want to marry you !” he exclaimed, letting his head heavily hit your ribs.

“Outch” you gasped at his clumsy gesture.

But the hit of his head wasn’t what hurt the most.

Then he stopped moving. John too, the TV froze, and Sam’s steady breathing stopped too.

Time had froze.

“Wh…”

“Hello Y/n” Castiel appeared.

“Cas !” you got up, putting the sleepy baby Dean on the bed cautiously. “Cas, this is Sam and Dean !” you couldn’t help but half whisper in reflex even in your enthusiasm. “Look how cute they are.”

“I know, I already saw them as kids” he answered simply. “I’m here to take you home, we killed the angel.”

“Okay… Just” your smile faded. “Let me say goodbye.”

“You don’t have too” the angel stated with his low and warm voice. “They won’t remember a thing, it will be as if you never showed up.”

“What ? No… Cas, I.. I talked to John, I think… I think he will try harder, I can’t let them, Cas, look at them” you half panicked.

“You can’t change the past, Y/n… Dean needs to feel like the world depends on him. Because it actually does… I know you can’t understand that right now.”

Tears filled your eyes.

“He’s just a kid…” you whined, bending to stroke his cheek one last time.

“He needs you, he needs you in a few decades” Castiel declared, taking your hand. “He’s worried sick, Y/n.”

He took your shaking hand and a white light surrounded you.

When you could open your eyes again, it took you a little while to adjust to the summer sunset light. You were outside, on the motel parking, except it was the one you actually booked.

Room 028 again…

In front of you, next to the Impala, were the two brothers. Fully grown up and tall, impressive, strong, staring at you.

You took a second to take in their presence, to remember their beauty… And your eyes focused on the man you loved so much.

“Y/n ?” Dean’s voice made you widen your eyes, you now realized it sounded a little like his father’s yet his voice was so unique.

Your hands flew up to your mouth in a desperate attempt to contain your emotions, but you felt tears already soak them.

“Y/n, sweetheart, talk to me” his expression changed in a heartbeat, from relieved to heartbroken. He frowned, approaching to put his huge hands on your shoulders. “What happened ?”

“I m-missed you” you answered, strangled and still a little confused. “Deanie Bean… I missed you, you’re so brave, you don’t have too… Dean I will protect you…”

You fell in his arms, letting him wrap you, enjoying his smell. And you finally felt safe, everything was in order and you were where you were supposed to be.

“She was in the past” Castiel stated, but you couldn’t see the brother’s reactions.

“Dean” you whispered, nuzzling in his neck. “I think we have to talk… I-I don’t like out arrangement. You have to understand you deserve better, and it’s not enough for me…”

The second of silence that followed felt like the world was crumbling…

“I don’t like it either” he sighed.

His hands firmly cupped your face, and the second his lips crushed on yours, you answered the little boy’s question in your head.

Yes, I am going to marry you, little Bean. Eventually I will.

________________________

***FEEDBACK IS GOLD***

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#supernatural #Supernatural Dean Winchester #supernatural fanfiction #SPN #dean winchester #fluff #angst #Sam Winchester #john winchester #jay and dean #dean x y/n #dean x reader

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enkelimagnus · 3 years

Text

Control

Bucky Barnes Gen, 1473 words, rated T

Jewish Bucky Barnes, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier: Episode 4 The Whole World is Watching

Sam and Zemo talk about supersoldiers and the serum as if they aren't in the presence of one.

TW: mention of sexual assault

Read on AO3

Part 27 of Making a Home - the Jewish Bucky series

--------------

They’re planning their approach to the refugee camp when Bucky realizes he hasn’t felt truly miserable in days.

Sure, he doesn’t exactly feel happy, he’s shameful and terrified of losing Ayo and Wakanda, of failing this new mission he’s given himself. His developing dynamic with Zemo is frustrating at best, his growing relationship with Sam is another thing he could lose. He’s uncomfortable and paranoid, walking through a city with Zemo as tour guide and host, knowing they’re being watched, knowing Walker and the GRC are snapping at their heels like rabid guard dogs.

But happy is not something he really strives for anymore. Not truly miserable, though?

He hasn’t been in his usual pit of darkness since he hopped into that flight to Munich with Sam. The work is similar to what he’s done before, in a hundred different ways, but it doesn’t make him miserable the way working for the SRT does.

They’re in one of Zemo’s many residences, which should be more uncomfortable than it actually is. The architecture of it is Arab-inspired definitely, but Bucky finds echoes of his own culture in it. The carved wood and the six-sided stars formed by the panels of the colored glass windows remind him of his shul, back in the day.

They’re planning something that will probably lead to murder. Sam assures it doesn’t need to, but Bucky can’t help but agree with Zemo. Karli’s a terrorist now. She bombed a supply depot, with people in them. And she’s not slowing down. Deep down, Bucky doesn’t think she will.

Sam and Zemo speak a lot about the serum, what it is, what it does. But they don’t know shit. They have no idea what it’s like to be a “supersoldier”. Zemo speaks of corruption, of supremacy, and Bucky agrees with him - how can he not when he was made into a weapon for supremacy by it? - but still, it doesn’t actually touch the reality of it.

The reality of it is that they have never truly met untrained supersoldiers. Sam’s experience is with Steve and Bucky, years after they actually took the serum. He has no idea the time it took for Steve to stop breaking glasses when he went to grab them, the time it took to canalyze his explosive emotions so he wouldn’t hurt himself from anger. He has no idea that Bucky’s control has been shaped by his decades with both the Soviets and Hydra, that he had to learn to act perfectly human, perfectly weak. That everything he broke was another punishment added to his list.

And Zemo is worse. He’s only seen Bucky, but he’s only seen him in his perfect weapon form. He had the book, so perhaps he knew the time it took for Bucky to stop breaking things by mistake, or killing people without meaning to.

They don’t know. They don’t know what it’s like to be angry, when you’ve got the serum coursing through your veins. It doesn’t stop. It keeps building, fuel to the fire, constantly. If there isn’t someone to teach you control, or something to distract yourself with, it just keeps building.

Karli is not going to slow down, because she’s not able to. No one is here to teach her how. She’s taken the serum when? A couple months ago at most? It took at least six months for Steve to stop punching trees when he was frustrated. And Steve, as everyone knows, was a good guy, a kind guy.

Zemo and Sam debate about this, and Bucky’s standing there with a tight grip on his emotions and on his body. Because if he didn’t have that, the counter he’s leaning his hands against would be splintered and broken, with grooves shaped like his fingers in them. The glass with the whiskey he’s sipping on would be shattered. Zemo might be dead.

They have no idea.

Zemo already blew up the U.N. and killed King T’Chaka, took control of him and shot the frozen Winter Soldiers while mad with grief and pain. How much further would he have gone if those terrible, extreme emotions had been heightened by the serum?

Bucky can’t tell them. He stops conversations before they get close to the truth, he moves away. He distracts himself from his worry about the Dora Milaje, from his empathy towards Karli Morgenthau and her friends. They are young, they don’t have anyone to teach them control, and fuck, he wouldn’t be able to help them. Because his control is Hydra’s. Order through pain.

They start walking towards the refugee camp and he’s still in perfect control. He always is.

Zemo sneaks some looks at him sometimes as he leads them through the maze of city streets. European cities aren’t like American ones, the streets aren’t checkered and numbered. He doesn’t know what Zemo is playing at, really. He doesn’t know where he stands with him.

It’s the problem with Zemo. He acts and talks and thinks in ways Bucky can’t exactly grasp. And fuck, he’s usually excellent at knowing what people want from him. But Zemo? With Zemo, he has no idea. It’s terrifying.

One moment, Zemo’s staking his claim as Bucky’s handler, claiming his leash, treating him like a guard dog who needs to be fed by the giving hand of its master. The next, he’s asking questions and holding a conversation with him, the kind of conversation that speaks of philosophy, religion and culture, the kind no one is ever interested in having with Bucky.

It makes no sense.

They walk into the GRC facility, an old palace, a shell of former glory. The ground is cobblestones arranged in pretty patterns, covered by dust and sand and broken pieces of furniture. Belongings gathered from homes as they fled.

A large cistern. Shower, washing, and perhaps even drinking water. People in layers of warm clothing washing faded clothing in that foaming metal tank. It’s familiar.

It isn’t the first time Bucky walks into a refugee camp. It isn’t not the first time he was met with those suspicious looks and closed mouths. It was like that in the war too, sometimes, when they made it to small towns that had been savagely torn apart by the nazis. Even if they wore Allied uniforms, they were still soldiers. And soldiers pillaged and raped and killed.

Zemo walks through these walls like he owns them, telling stories of his childhood and Bucky can picture a fat rich kid and his parents coming here, playing war with toy soldiers when the adults plotted war in which real ones would die.

Of course, it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t know what was going on. Children don’t understand what toy soldiers represent. They don’t understand anything. They think war is a game and so is everything else. They think happiness is candy. They think the moon is the farthest thing in the universe, but also that it’s reachable.

In this time, they’re not wrong. In Bucky’s, they were.

The rich kid has grown up into an equally rich man, wiry and cunning. Was he always this manipulative or did it come with age? Was there a time where Helmut Zemo was innocent and kind-hearted?

Bucky doesn’t really believe in people being born evil. It doesn’t make sense to him. Everyone is corruptible. Everyone is redeemable.

Sam volunteers to go in and Bucky is glad for it. He knows there will be even more people inside and he isn’t Sam. He isn't kind. He has trouble making himself soft for those who deserve it, especially in a setting like this. He’s on a mission, and that tends to shut off his softness.

“Keep an eye on him.”

That, he can do. He can’t be soft, but he can watch Zemo for sure, make sure he doesn’t step out of line. He nods towards Sam, accepting the task.

“I’ll stay out of your way,” Zemo says, looking at Bucky. And in those sharp brown eyes, Bucky sees more of that victorious smugness he saw when Zemo fed him all those piroshkis twelve hours ago, in the plane.

Something is still in there.

It’s a look that says ‘you just thrive under orders, don’t you?’ and it makes Bucky see red for a second, before he gets himself back under control. He closes and opens his hands. The leather of the gloves creak. In a second, he’s back to normal. The anger still simmers beneath his skin, but the violence is contained.

He’s in control. He always is.

Zemo realizes it eventually. When his expensive cup full of expensive tea crashes into the expensive wall of his expensive house. And Bucky sees something akin to fear flash into his eyes.

He hates how good it feels to see that look on someone’s face again.

#bucky barnes #helmut zemo #sam wilson #fatws #tfatws #mine #marvel

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squirmymochi · 5 years

Text

Another commission for a lovely customer who requested a man who gets desperate at the waterpark with his girlfriend! Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy it!

Read it on Ao3

“Are you having fun, babe?”

Alex grimaces, doing his best to smile as he turns around in the pool, ignoring the way the cool water brushes up against his chest. He’s been at the waterpark with his girlfriend Nadia for four, maybe five hours now--it had been her idea, as a final end-of-summer activity before the two would have to return to their last year of university together--and for the first three and a half or so, he’d been having a great time. It’s sunny out, the perfect weather to go to the beach or the pool or a waterpark, they’ve already knocked all of their summer homework out of the way, and he’d just turned twenty-one earlier in the summer, meaning he’s finally legally allowed to drink.

Nadia has made sure to celebrate that last part over the course of the day, always ushering him back towards the bar at the far end of the park to grab more drinks. They’re not trying to get drunk--Alex is pretty sure he’ll want to remember what happened today when he wakes up tomorrow, and with his past experience with alcohol, anything past a few beers will probably make it so that he won’t remember a thing--but Nadia had been so convincing, always offering to pay and promising that she’ll stay sober enough to drive home without getting pulled over by the cops. And besides, it is their last week of summer break before school starts again. Doesn’t he deserve to live a little, get a little tipsy and have some fun?

That had been his mindset two hours ago, anyway, when he’d drank with no precautions. Now, he’s not thinking about having a good time before school starts. Now he isn’t thinking about anything that isn’t the throbbing ache coming from his bladder, reminding him every second of exactly how much beer he’d had throughout the day. Four big, viking-worthy glasses, probably closer to half a pitcher than a mug, plus the water he’d insisted on having alongside it to keep himself from going too far too fast. God, no wonder his need is so strong. He can’t even remember when it was he last went to the bathroom, either--was it all the way at the beginning of the day, so many hours ago?

“Alex?” Nadia sing-songs, snapping him out of his trance as she swims closer to him, pressing a hand to his chest. “Are you having a good time?”

“Of course,” Alex says automatically, squeezing his legs tight together under the water. They’re situated roughly in the middle end of the wave pool, where they’ve been wading for about a half an hour, diving under the water and chasing each other around, having races to see who’s the faster swimmer. (Alex, being on the swim team in high school, usually won, but sometimes he let Nadia win just for fun.) The waves are turned off right now, but he’s pretty sure they’re gearing up to come back any second now, as they’ve been coming and going in fifteen minute intervals since they arrived.

It’s fairly easy to move around right now, too; the water is calm, the floaties and foam toys spread around the pool are all at a standstill, and there aren’t many children darting around in the shallow end, blocking the path to get out. It would be a perfect time to excuse himself to the bathroom and take care of his rather pressing need, which is pretty much the only thing he wants to do at the moment.

But Nadia is here, smiling up at him happily as she treads water (it’s cute that she’s so short she can barely stand in the deep end, but he can’t focus on that right now) with an expectant look in her eyes. She’s having fun where she is, in the pool with him, and the last thing he wants to do is ruin it for her over some silly need he should have more control over as a twenty-one year old man. He can hold it for just a little bit longer, if it means she’ll have a few more minutes of fun.

“I bet I can beat you to the deep end!” Nadia exclaims, her mouth curling into a little grin as she pushes her dark hair, sleek with water, over her shoulder. “Come on, before the waves start up again!”

“What are you, five?” Alex laughs tightly, even though he’s the one in the childish situation. He feels more five than he has in a while, all thanks to the urges coming from his abdomen. There’s no way he’ll be able to race her again without making himself seriously desperate, but he doesn’t want to flat-out say no to her. (Saying no to Nadia is probably his least favorite thing in the universe, and it shows.)

“Scared you’ll lose?” Nadia taunts, eyes glimmering with mirth as she does so. “Come on, it will be fun!”

And it’s that sight, the look on her face which she’s given him a thousand times before, that finally makes Alex put aside his uncomfortableness and agree. “Alright, fine,” he sighs, playing along with her challenge. “Last one to the deep end is a rotten egg.”

“Yeah!” Nadia crows triumphantly, before running a hand across the surface of the pool towards Alex, splashing him in the face with drops of cool water before she takes off. Alex laughs, diving into the water and chasing after her, putting all his strength into kicking beneath the surface with his muscular legs.

Fuck . If he’d thought treading water with a full bladder was hard, it’s nothing compared to actually swimming. With each kick he feels like he’s about to leak, his legs spreading apart and muscles growing tired with every stroke. Having his legs forced apart over and over again is borderline painful, and since his arms are busy propelling him forward in the water, there’s nothing left to keep the pressure on his crotch from the outside. God, he can feel the pee just sitting there, begging to be let out.

But he can’t pee in the pool! There are so many other people there, enjoying their family vacations together in the same body of water that he’s in. It would be more than rude to contaminate the water they were swimming in with his body’s own type of water, regardless of whether anyone else could tell or not. And besides, he wouldn’t want to be swimming in it, either.

“I win!” Nadia cries as he surfaces, his hands shooting up to hold onto the wall when he wishes they could shoot down to hold his penis instead. He settles for crossing his legs under the water and moving his hips back and forth as gracefully as he can, hoping that the wave of pressure he’d just felt goes away as quickly as it had come. “You know what that means. Loser buys another round of drinks!”

“Ah,” Alex pants, glancing warily towards the bar as he continues to fidget underwater. “More drinks? I’m not really thirsty, you know…”

“You don’t drink beer because you’re thirsty,” Nadia points out with a pout. “You drink it ‘cause it’s fun. Besides, it’s hot out! Don’t you want to stay hydrated?”

I’m plenty hydrated enough, thank you! his mind protests. I don’t think I could put more liquid in me if I tried!

“I’ll buy something for you,” he reasons instead, hoping his voice doesn’t give him away. “I’m already feeling buzzed enough.”

Nadia’s pout deepens, but she moves on fairly quickly as the water around them shifts. “Oh, the waves are starting again!” she exclaims excitedly as the pool around them begins to fill with movement. “Come on, let’s swim back to the other end so I can stand!”

With that, she turns around in the water and kicks off from the wall, gliding through the waves effortlessly, like some kind of Grecian goddess. Her long, dark hair trails behind her, clinging to her back when she resurfaces, but Alex doesn’t have the capabilities to appreciate his girlfriend’s figure right about then.

His entire body is frozen against the wall as his head fills with the sound of water splashing against water, crashing upon the sides of the pool and lapping at his chest. All of a sudden the only thing he can hear is dripping, churning, running water, and the noises seem to be going straight from his brain to his bladder.

God, he hadn’t realized how seriously bad he needed to go until now, with waves upon waves of liquid moving around him. His bladder feels so full and heavy inside of him, like a water balloon that’s overfilled and ready to pop at any second. All those beers, all that water… It’s all still inside of him, and he’d bet that there’s even more still traveling down from his kidneys into his bladder, ready to overinflate it even more than it already is.

He sucks in a deep breath and presses the front of his body further against the wall, trying his best to create pressure against his crotch. He doesn’t dare grind down--the wall of the pool is rather gritty, and he’d prefer not to harm his genitals in any way if he can help it--but it’s a tough battle to fight. He wishes the water weren’t so clear so that he could reach down and grab himself without anyone there to judge him, but the waterpark is so crowded, and he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to get away with it. (Oh, but holding himself sounds absolutely heavenly right about then.)

Nadia, who had already swam a few feet away, turns back to give him a questioning look. “Aren’t you coming?” she asks, thankfully not noticing his strange body language, his hunched shoulders or gritted jaw. “Come on, my legs are getting tired.”

“C-Coming,” Alex says, thrusting his hips forward against the wall one more time before pushing off towards the shallow end. He doesn’t dare front crawl his way over this time--that would be much too much for his poor, swollen bladder to handle. Instead he doggy paddles towards the shallower side of the pool, trying his best to appear normal in front of the families that are watching him.

Inside his body, his bladder throbs agonizingly, demanding that he release its contents as soon as he can. He sucks his lip between his teeth as he paddles over, clenching his sphincter muscles as hard as he can until he makes it far enough that he’s able to stand. As soon as he does that, he crosses one leg over the other and bobs up and down in the water, breathing heavily as he shifts his hips from side to side. He needs to get to a bathroom as soon as possible or he’s going to get wet in an entirely different way (one that will be much less fun for everyone involved).

Reluctantly, Alex uncrosses his legs and moves forward, but every step sends tiny vibrations up his legs and across his abdomen. He gasps as a strong urge hits him, bending forward at the waist and locking his knees together under the water to fight against the throbbing pressure. His hands ball into fists at his sides, nails digging into the skin of his palms as he does his best not to let them fly to the front of his swim trunks. If he was worried about people seeing him in the deep end, there’s no way he’d be able to go unnoticed in the shallow side.

He’s just deep enough for the waves to crash straight against his abdomen, water licking at his bladder from the other side, tempting it to release without his permission. “ Ah, ” he gasps, grabbing the front of his thigh and hooking one knee over the other in an attempt to keep himself from going right then, right there. He needs to get himself under control, and soon, before his desperation reaches uncharted levels. Unsteadily, he staggers forward, only to suck in a sharp, pained gasp as his lower body leaves the water.

If he thought his need was bad before, it’s absolutely nothing compared to what he’s feeling now. It feels as if another pint of beer has just been dumped straight into his bladder, filling it to the brim and stretching it to its utmost limit. He realizes with a start that the water from the pool had been the only thing keeping him on the safer edge of desperation--it had made the gravitational pull on his bladder feel lesser, creating a buoyant effect on the poor organ without him noticing, and now that the pressure of the water isn’t on him, gravity is catching up.

His hands begin to fly to his crotch, only to flutter away at the last second as he uses his last bit of willpower to keep them at his sides. Insteadhe sucks his lip between his teeth and stifles a moan, half-falling back into the water around him and sighing with relief when the agonizing pressure goes away. He can still feel hot, throbbing pain coming from his abdomen, but now that he’s surrounded by the pool water again, he doesn’t feel on the verge of exploding anymore.

Still, he needs to get to a toilet as soon as possible, and it’s not likely that he’ll be able to hold it if he lifts himself out of the pool again. What is he supposed to do now? The nearest bathrooms are on the other side of the waterpark, and there’s no way in hell he’d let himself be seen hobbling around a family gathering area with his hands between his legs like some kind of pervert. Besides, he isn’t even sure he’d be able to make it to those restrooms without completely losing control along the way. He’s so desperate, he can barely think straight, and he knows for sure his face must be all red and twisted up in pain by now.

As much as he hates to admit it, he’s pretty sure that he’s only got one option left: he’s going to have to pee in the pool. It’s something he’s never done before--even as a child, he’d always held it in long enough to get to the bathrooms, even though he’d thought they were pretty gross. (And doing that had sure given him some close calls, and a few extra wet spots on his swim shorts, but hey, it’s probably best not to think about those right now.)

So, he’s going to contaminate the pool with his own bodily fluids. It should be easy--the sound of roaring, splashing water surrounds him, teasing him with the premise of relief every second, and the pool water itself is cool enough that it’s making his bladder more than a little uncomfortable. But it’s hard , trying to consciously pee where he’s not supposed to, when he knows it’s taboo, especially for a full-grown adult such as himself. He sighs again, squatting down in the shallow water and doing his best to relax, unclench his muscles, and think of the promise of relief he’s only seconds away from…

And at last, he feels a dribble of urine escape from his bladder and trail through his urethra, creating a tiny spot of warmth in the pool water at the head of his dick. He sighs, letting his head fall back and his arms float to the surface of the pool as his stream picks up, his bladder just starting to become a bit less swollen, a little bit emptier. He can feel the water around him, still rocked by waves, growing warm with his own piss, and… To be honest, it’s a little bit hot. He’s always been a bit of a stickler for the rules, but now, doing something so naughty as peeing in a public pool, without anyone else knowing that he’s doing it… He’s just starting to enjoy the feeling when he feels a pair of arms wrap around him from behind.

“Ah!” he exclaims, jumping forward, but the arms around his middle stay secured. His body freezes, locks up again, the stream of urine stopping abruptly as he stiffens up under the touch, and immediately he misses the relief he’d only just begun to get. His penis throbs, aching in time with his abdomen, and he hisses in pain as the arms around him tighten.

“Alex,” Nadia whines, pressing her front side against his back, molding herself to him. “What’s going on? You were just standing there with your eyes closed.”

“Nadia…” Alex breathes, shifting his weight from foot to foot underwater. He’s uncomfortable, he’s so uncomfortable , seconds away from peeing full-force into the pool again, but he can’t, not with Nadia so close to him.

“Aren’t you having fun?” Nadia asks, and he knows her so well he swears he can hear the pout in her voice. “You seem so stiff, babe. What’s wrong?”

With that, she tightens her hands around his waist, pulling him closer to her body… and subsequently squishing his bladder under her fingers. Alex gasps sharply, curling in on himself and finally letting his hands fly to the front of his swim shorts to hold onto his crotch. Even with the added external pressure, he can feel the water around him growing warm, the pressure on his bladder far too much for him to handle.

“Stop, stop!” he pants, but doesn’t dare push her away. Even if it cost him his own life (or in this case, his dignity) he would never even consider pushing Nadia away. Instead, he shifts his hips from side to side, leaning forward so far his chest touches the water and hooking one leg over the other, bobbing up and down urgently as he does.

Thankfully, Nadia picks up on the problem quickly. She loosens her arms around him, keeping one hand pressed to his chest while the other sifts through the water in front of him. “Oh?” she questions, and this time Alex is sure he can hear mischief in her voice. “What’s this? The water’s all warm over here…”

“I-Is it?” Alex repeats, keeping his hands glued tight to his crotch as he stems off the flow. (It hurts, he’s still so desperate, but now that he’s been caught, it just feels morally wrong to keep going.)

“It is…” With that, Nadia lets her hand trail down to the front of his stomach and pushes down once again, just once. Her other hand comes down to cup over his fingers as his breath hitches and he lets out a short spurt of pee. It takes an immense amount of effort to cut himself off once again, and his bladder protests with a series of agonized pulses, but he refuses to let himself continue to go.

“I see what’s going on,” Nadia says coyly, and Alex thanks the heavens when she removes her hand from his stomach to glide around to his other side. “Alex… You’re being a bad boy, aren’t you? Doing something like that in a public pool?”

“I-I couldn’t help it,” Alex stammers, biting at his lip until it turns red.

“Couldn’t help it?” Nadia repeats teasingly. “Couldn’t help but get all of us in here dirty? The waves are on, you know. That stuff you’re putting in here is gonna spread.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Alex gasps, hooking his knees together and bobbing up and down once again. “I just- I needed to go, and-”

“No, no,” Nadia shushes him, sticking a pool-slick finger to his lips. “No excuses, babe. You’re a grown man, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be able to hold it until you get to the bathroom?”

“But I-”

“Shh… Come on, you know I’m right.”

Alex inhales shakily, his whole body still tense and rigid from desperation. The warmth of his piss has been washed away by the waves at this point, but he can still feel the urine inside of him pushing to get out. “You’re right,” he says, hoping that she’ll leave it at that and finally allow him to finish what he’d started.

“Did you let go completely?” Nadia asks, her gaze dropping to the area just above his swim trunks. “Are you empty now, you little rulebreaker? It certainly doesn’t look like you are.”

“I- I’m not,” Alex admits, his voice going high-pitched as another wave of need overtakes him. He whimpers, clutching his dick tighter between his hands and pressing the front of his left thigh into the back of his right with all the force he can muster. “I still need to go, bad .”

“Well,” Nadia says, sounding all too pleased. “I certainly can’t allow you to keep going here , of all places. You’ll need to make it to the bathroom if you want to finish relieving yourself.”

Alex jerks his head up to meet her gaze, his eyes going wide. “But- But-” he stammers, a protest half-formed in the back of his mind, but one look from Nadia has him biting his tongue instead of continuing his sentence. The game is afoot now, and no matter how much pain and embarrassment it might bring him, he knows he’s going to play along anyway, for her sake.

Still, it doesn’t make the idea of walking to the bathrooms any more appealing. He already feels like he’s on the verge of spurting again, and if he gets out of the water and forces himself to walk normally, he’s sure he’ll have a full-on accident within the next minute.

“Isn’t there any other way?” he asks shakily, staring off in the direction of the restrooms. If he were in his normal condition, it would probably only be a three or four minute walk, but with the ball of hot, acrid piss inside of him controlling his every move, it’ll probably take at least double that to even reach the other side of the park. And what if there’s a line? Is he supposed to stand there and wait when he’s on the brink of pissing himself for all to see?

“Do you see any other bathrooms around here?” Nadia challenges, raising an eyebrow at him. “Come on, come on! The sooner you get out of the pool, the sooner you get to go!”

She grabs him by the arm and pulls him just a tad too roughly towards the shallow exit of the pool, where the water is just beginning to settle down from the waves. Alex reluctantly lets go of his crotch, and immediately lets out a strangled groan as he experiences the effects of gravity on his body for the second time that day. He wonders how the hell it feels exactly the same as it had before he’d “contaminated” the pool, despite how much he must have let out. Is his last beer hitting him already?

“Nadia, can you… slow down a little?” he manages as his girlfriend struts ahead, beads of water dripping down her body from her one-piece swimsuit. Normally, Alex would take this opportunity to stare at the amount of skin she has on show, but he’s too distracted with his own body. Every muscle he has is clenched tight, his arms and legs stiff and rigid, thighs pressed close together with every step. It’s absolute torture, having to walk like there’s nothing wrong, when it’s all he can do not to grab himself and dance around like a little kid.

They’ve made it maybe ten steps, and each one has sent extremely unpleasant vibrations up through his leg and straight into his core, jostling the liquid inside of him each time his foot lands on the ground. He winces, keeping his eyes trained on the floor to avoid any strange looks people might be shooting his way, and attempts to take a larger step to make it to the bathrooms as fast as he possibly can.

His foot lands on a particularly cool puddle of water, and all of a sudden he feels a hot jet of pee squirt out of his dick and onto the floor. He freezes in place, eyes going wide as he draws his legs in quickly and presses his thighs against each other, doing everything he can mentally to keep himself from breaking out into a full-out dance of desperation. Warmth runs down his legs from inside his shorts, and he barely manages to cut off the flow this time, so paralyzed by fear that he can barely get his body to listen to him.

“Nngh… Nadia, ” he hisses, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I can’t…”

He hears footsteps pad back towards him through the shallow puddles on the floor, and then a hand comes to rest gently on his shoulder. “Come on, babe,” Nadia says, half-encouraging, half-commanding. “You can make it. Do it for me, okay?”

“But-”

“I’ll be so happy if you make it all the way,” Nadia says, her hand reaching around to curl at the back of his neck. “Won’t you at least try? Just for me?”

And fuck, if that doesn’t strengthen Alex’s resolve just enough to keep him going despite the raging need overtaking him, he’s not sure that anything will. With a muffled moan, he straightens up from his twisted, bent-in-half posture, takes a few shallow breaths, and opens his eyes. The sight of water flowing all around him does nothing to help his current situation, but he determinedly fixes his eyes on a dry spot on the wall and takes a shaky step forward, ignoring the wetness beginning to cool and become sticky on his legs.

He will make it to the bathroom, if only just to get far enough to wet himself somewhere private. If Nadia asks him to make it, he’s determined to do as she says, no matter if he thinks it’s within his capabilities or not. Even though his bladder is straining out from the waistband of his swim trunks, sending urgent messages increasingly quickly that he needs to let go now , or else. Even if he feels five seconds from exploding on the spot, so filled with beer and water that he isn’t sure how in the world he’s still hanging on. There’s nothing he won’t do for Nadia--he’s sure of that.

Another jet of hot, wet piss escapes him, but he grits his teeth and clenches his sphincter muscles together with a groan that gets lost in the sounds of the waterpark, and cuts it off once again. He can’t help but pause mid-step and shift his hips around in small, quick circles, and wish as hard as he can that he could put pressure on his crotch, even for just a few seconds . Any outside help would be much appreciated at the moment, but he knows if he lets himself grab his dick now, there’s no way he’ll be able to let go without losing the battle entirely. So instead he clenches his fists at his sides and bites down hard on his lip, taking another step towards the bathroom, a step towards release.

“That’s it, baby,” Nadia encourages him, her voice dropping low and smooth as she guides him through the crowd. “Just a little longer, and then you can pee to your heart’s content.”

“Ah… Ahh… ” he pants, eyes fluttering as they pass another section of the park. This one he’d noticed when they first walked in--it’s the kid’s area, complete with a wooden play structure and several buckets that fill to the top before tipping out onto the ground and the children below it. Were he in a better state, he’d compare his bladder to the buckets, as full as it can get and seconds away from wobbling over and spilling all over the ground in a loud rush of warm, sticky urine, coating his legs and his feet and spreading into a huge puddle on the ground.

“ Mmh !” he gasps, catching himself on Nadia’s shoulder as he bends forward. His knees turn inwards, locking together like magnets as he curls an arm protectively around his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he tries to rid himself of the mental image. Thinking about relieving himself, wetting himself at that, is a definite no-go right now. His body surely won’t be able to handle thoughts like that while battling a bladder this full.

“You have no idea how good you look right now, Alex,” Nadia says breathlessly, close to his ear. He feels her breath ghost over his cheek warmly, and raises his head just enough so that he can look into her eyes.

I’m doing this for you, he thinks passionately, too unsteady to trust himself to speak. It will all be worth it, when I make you proud…

“Come on,” Nadia says again, lower this time. “Let’s get moving. I want to get there as much as you do, you know.”

It’s a strange sentiment, but Alex can’t bring himself to think much about it right now. Instead he hobbles forward, taking smaller, more delicate steps to keep his bladder from being jostled around too badly. “Okay,” he agrees hoarsely, his voice shaking from want. Nadia smiles at him, secretive and seductive, then turns back around and continues on towards the bathrooms, her hips swaying back and forth as she moves. Alex stumbles after her, keeping one hand wrapped around his stomach. Maybe if he looks sick enough, people will move out of his way and leave him alone, and he’ll be able to get there faster.

They’re maybe a minute’s walk away from the bathrooms now at the rate he’s going. Every step is torture, feeling the slickness of tiny puddles under the pads of his feet, and hearing the rush of water, seeing it splash and flow everywhere he looks, but the look in Nadia’s eyes when she turns to check on him keeps him going. He’s not sure why, but he feels like she’s promising him something, if he can make it all the way there.

He counts the seconds to keep his mind from turning traitor on him, and just when they’ve reached fifty-two, he raises his eyes and almost starts to cry from relief. There, right in front of him, is the sign pointing to the bathrooms, located just around the corner. Finally! he thinks, a smile melting across his face. I can finally go! I’m so close! I just need to round the corner, and then I’ll finally be able to…

Oh.

No.

As he turns the corner, his eyes land upon the men’s bathroom, just a few feet down the hall… And the line that trails out of it. His bladder screams in horror as he takes in the dozen or so boys and men who are waiting patiently for their turn in the bathroom in varying levels of discomfort. He can see a few young boys shifting their wait around awkwardly, and even one or two of the men have uncomfortable grimaces across their faces, but none of them seem to be in the state of pure, anguished distress that’s wracking through him at the moment.

“No…” he whimpers, eyes beginning to water as hope seeps out of him. He’d been so close , so close to relief, to finally being able to empty himself… Now there’s no way he’ll be able to make it into the bathroom with his dignity still intact. And here, far away from the roaring water of the pool, everyone will be able to tell if he lets go and re-wets his swim trunks where he isn’t supposed to.

“Don’t worry,” Nadia says, and then a cool hand is sliding around his arm and pulling him in a different direction. “I have other plans for you, baby. Come with me.”

At peak desperation, Alex has no choice but to follow limply. His eyes light up as he notices where she’s dragging him; he can make out a sign proclaiming Single Stall Family Bathroom further between the walls of the park’s end, and if the little green tag on the door is anything to go by, it must be vacant. His bladder practically gives out the second she throws open the door, his eyes immediately hooked on the toilet in the corner of the room, and he can’t help but reach down to squeeze himself with all his might to keep the flood at bay for just a few seconds longer…

But before he can rush forward and whip himself out, Nadia is closing and locking the door behind him, and immediately pushing herself against him, locking her lips with his as she presses him into the door with a bang . “ Oh ,” Alex moans, eyes fluttering as he clutches himself through his shorts. “ Oh, Nadia, stop… I’m going to wet myself, I’m going to have an accident! ”

“No, you’re not,” Nadia says in a voice that screams sex. “Here, I’ll help you.”

With that, her hand dives down and joins his at his crotch, her fingers brushing up against his penis through the saturated fabric of his shorts, and the sensation of his girlfriend’s hand on him combined with the unbelievably urgency of his bladder is almost too much for him to handle. He lets out a cry of need, louder than he’d ever want to in a public space, and bucks up into her touch frantically, searching for more, more, more .

“Nadia, please,” he begs, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. “Please, I need… Oh… Ahh!”

“Shh,” Nadia shushes him, her other finger coming up to press against his lips as she continues to fondle him delicately. Her hand slips around his dick, fitting it within her fist as he starts to fill out despite his body’s needs. “I know just what you need, baby. Let me give it to you.”

“ Mh… Ah- Ah! ” Alex moans, surprised to find that he’s actually becoming quite hard. He’s never really tried to get hard while he’s desperate to go before; normally, Nadia has him hold it for her, and then they have sex. He’s also surprised to find that he kind of likes it, the experience of being full to the brim, bursting at the seams, and being touched like this at the same time.

“That’s right,” Nadia coos, then presses her lips to his again, fitting her body flush against his and grinding her leg against his crotch. Alex manages to tear his hand away, if only to get more friction from his girlfriend’s thigh against his cock. He doesn’t even care that there’s a toilet less than five feet away from him… He’s so turned on that the need to pee has come second in his mind’s ranking of what’s important right now.

In fact, he can feel himself start to lose it once again, his bladder rejecting the urine it’s been forced to store for so long. He moans hotly into Nadia’s mouth, and she clenches her fist tight around him, cutting off the stream as soon as she can feel it on her hand.

“Who said you had permission to go yet?” she murmurs seductively, her lips brushing his. “Come on, babe. You know better than that.

“S-Sorry,” Alex pants, eyelids fluttering as Nadia trails her fingers up his body, stopping at his bladder. “Please, no… If you do that, I’ll-”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia whispers, “I’m not that cruel. But I do think you need a punishment for letting go without permission.”

“Wh- What?”

“Hm…” Nadia taps her finger against her chin a few times, before her eyes light up once again. “I know,” she says decisively, and begins to move even closer, pressing her body against his. His hardness slots between her legs perfectly, the insides of her thighs warming the tented fabric of his swimsuit. She must be standing on her toes to get this angle on him, and even through the haze of desperation and arousal, he can’t help but find it cute.

“Wh- What are you d-doing?” he manages, but Nadia doesn’t reply. Her body is molded to his, chest pressed against him, legs squished up against his. Her weight settles lightly on his bladder, and he flinches back further against the door, but she doesn’t put any more pressure on it than she’s putting on the rest of his body. For one holy second, he wonders if he’s safe from her teasing, if maybe his “punishment” isn’t going to be so bad after all.

That’s when he feels the wetness start to collect in his swimsuit.

Alex gasps, his hand flying down to the front of his shorts to clutch himself, cut off the flow of hot, golden piss that’s somehow escaping him--only it’s not . It takes him a second to realize that he isn’t the one who’s peeing; Nadia is. Crushed up against him, with his dick between her legs, she’s the one letting go, getting her fluids all over the floor of the bathroom, and all over him. He lets out a strangled moan as the sound of splattering fills the room, as urine soaks the fabric around his incredibly sensitive penis. His bladder contracts harshly, and he can’t help but add his own little burst of piss into the mix, but being as hard as he is, it’s not as easy for him to let go as it might have been a few minutes ago.

Somehow, despite being the worst kind of torture he could possibly imagine, the idea of Nadia releasing herself onto him is almost… kind of hot, as well. He’s never really been into this kind of stuff the same way that she has, but something about her giving him a punishment for disobeying her command reminds him just how much he wants to please her, to make it up to her. He sucks in ragged breaths of air as she continues to go, pressed against his body so that the urine runs down both of them, and squeezes his eyes tightly shut, biting his lip against the need to relieve himself with her.

It feels like the moment never ends, and yet within half a minute, Nadia’s stream is tapering off, and she’s pulling away from him, using her pointer finger to trace a line down his cock, which is still straining hard inside of his shorts, oversensitive to the touch. He’s pretty sure his erection is the only thing keeping him from losing control of his body entirely, making him needy and desperate in a different way from before.

“Keep going, please ,” he pants, lip caught between his teeth as his eyes flutter open to meet Nadia’s. She smiles at him sweetly, and for a split second he’s sure she’ll indulge him just this once, but instead she steps back a few paces, drawing her hand away from his body and towards her own.

“I would,” she starts coyly, “but where’s the fun in that? I mean, what kind of reward would that be if I didn’t even give you a challenge?”

“ Nadia ,” Alex groans, reaching down to stroke himself without thinking. He’s so hard, so painfully erect, and combined with the fullness and sensitivity of his poor bladder, he’s pretty sure he won’t last another minute without coming or peeing, or both.

“What about this?” Nadia grins wolfishly at him, and he just knows something bad is coming. He can see it in the way her eyes sparkle mischievously, in the curve of her smile. “If you can make it back to the car, I’ll give you something even better than a handjob. You know what I mean?”

She winks, adorable, terrible, and teasing. Alex whimpers as she reaches out to remove his hand from his penis, where he’d been stroking it up and down almost without meaning to. He’s so overstimulated, he feels like he’s going to combust if he doesn’t come soon… But the idea of having sex with Nadia sounds all too tempting in the moment…

“C-Couldn’t we just do it here?” he asks shakily, eyeing the all too inviting toilet over her shoulder. He’s pretty sure he’ll start pissing the second he’s allowed to come, and he’d prefer to have somewhere to go nearby for when that happens. Plus, he really isn’t sure he’d be able to make it to the car--the parking lot is just outside the waterpark entrance, which is on the other side of the park. Walking past all that splashing, flowing water again… He shudders violently just thinking about it.

“Absolutely not,” Nadia says, mock offense in her voice. “There’s not enough privacy here! What if some family is standing outside right now, waiting to use the restroom, and they hear somebody moaning and panting from inside?”

“B-But-”

“It’s either in the car or not at all, Alex,” Nadia tells him firmly. Her voice has that kind of subtle command to it that most people don’t notice, but most people aren’t Alex. He’s had years to learn all about Nadia’s subtly voiced commands, and he’d consider himself an expert on this tone in particular at this point.

He must be absolutely insane, to give up the chance for the release he’s been craving for almost an hour and a half now, just to chase a different kind of release he hadn’t even wanted up until five or ten minutes ago. Any sane person would have kindly declined, let their body decide which need was more important, instead of letting what’s between their legs think for them. But Alex is so incredibly turned on right now, hard and straining visibly through his swim shorts, and every breath makes the fabric brush up against his dick so tantalizingly… He doesn’t think he can handle not taking Nadia up on her offer.

“Okay,” he pants, completely out of breath. His face feels flushed redder than a ripe tomato, and he’s sure he looks like a total wreck, even to people who don’t know he’s seconds away from exploding in more ways than one… But he doesn’t have it in him to care anymore. Even if he has to clutch himself all the way to the car, even if he has to stop every few seconds to dance around like a little child… He’s determined now more than ever to make it through the parking lot, and get his reward.

Nadia draws closer, leaning up on her tiptoes to press her lips against his one last time, before she pulls him away from the door and latches onto the handle, holding it open and swinging herself around to the other side. Alex takes as deep a breath as he can, trying his best not to squish his bladder any further, and casts one long, wistful glance back at the toilet sitting mere feet away from him, practically calling his name. He must be insane… But if there’s anything that sounds better than pissing his need away right now, it’s having the hottest sex of his life with his girlfriend.

With his mind made up, he turns and exits the bathroom once again, his bladder absolutely screaming in protest as he once again denies it the release it craves. He glances down and catches sight of the gentle swell of his bladder poking out from his stomach, as well as the not so subtle tent at the front of his shorts. He grimaces at both sights, hoping no one will pay him much mind as he hobbles out into the passageway behind Nadia. They must seem suspicious, a young couple walking out of a single-stall bathroom together, one with a clear erection and the other with an air of satisfaction about her. It’s crazy that they seem like that before they’ve even had a chance to have sex.

Alex has never been much of an exhibitionist; usually, his logic prevents him from doing anything as risky as this, but he finds that he doesn’t have it in him to care at this very second. Half of his mind is focusing on not coming in his shorts, the tantalizing brush of wet, saturated fabric against his most sensitive area a kind of torture he’s never known before. He’s pretty sure he’s never been this hard before, never needed sex so urgently. He feels the same way actors pretend to feel in cheesy pornos, where they beg and plead for their partners to let them come this very minute , or they’ll simply explode.

The other half of his brain is having relatively similar thoughts, although these are coming from his bursting bladder rather than his raging erection. His mind is occupied with keeping every liquid he can inside of his body, denying himself even the tiniest of leaks. He feels seconds away from losing the battle and flooding the floor around him with warm, golden urine, creating a pool of his own and at last feeling comfortable and empty again. The thought is so tempting that he feels himself spurt, despite his hard on, and has to bite his tongue hard to keep him from gasping out loud.

Uncaring of what anyone else thinks anymore, he shoves a hand into his crotch, squeezing his cock as hard as he can and hooking one leg over the other, making low whimpering sounds in the back of his throat as he tries to regain control. It feels like he’s holding back a literal ocean, and he’s reminded once again of the pints and pints of beer he’d ingested earlier, without ever once considering the desperate state they might leave him in. God, he can’t imagine that there’s even an ounce of space left in his poor, overfilled bladder. What if all of the beer hasn’t made its way inside yet? Can he possibly fit another drop?

He doesn’t ever remember being this desperate before, and there have been plenty of times when he’d lost control from less. Nadia likes to make him hold it at home, although she usually drags him into the shower with his clothes still on before he reaches this level of need. And even before he’d met her, there had been times when he’d been too busy at work or studying to get up and take care of his situation, which had left him feeling plenty full. Still, he doesn’t think he’s been this bursting in his entire life, in all twenty-one years of existence.

“Come on, babe,” Nadia says from above him (he must have hunched over at some point, because she’s usually about a head shorter than he is). “You’ve gotta keep going if you want your reward. Don’t worry, I’ll walk fast. I want to get there, too, you know.”

Alex can’t decide if it would be better for her to walk fast, and get him to the car quicker, or walk slow, and give his overworked body a break. He settles for clamping his mouth shut and hobbling after her, half-bent over and with a hand clutching his penis through his shorts. With every step he takes, the friction from his hand and swimsuit drive him crazy, and he feels tiny drops of urine escape from the head of his dick at the same time. Positively sure he can’t stop them, he settles for clenching his jaw tight and praying that the little dribbles don’t become a stream anytime soon.

They’re almost at the entrance to the park, and Alex is starting to regret letting his dick do the thinking for him. Sure, he’s still incredibly horny, and slipping inside his girlfriend would probably feel like heaven right now, but he’s pretty sure wetting himself in front of a thousand strangers at a kid-friendly waterpark would kill any erection he might have had before.

And oh , is he close to wetting himself. His abdomen feels like it’s been filled to the very top with water, and it’s all racing to get out, filling out his dick both with blood and with a thin stream of pee. He feels a longer jet escape and moans embarrassingly loudly, letting his other hand join his first clutching at his penis as he bobs up and down on one leg. He feels like a little kid, forced to hold it until he has permission to go, with a tiny bladder and a one-track mind. (Well, he supposes he’s a little more evolved than that--he is focusing on both not peeing himself and not coming, after all.)

With his hands between his legs, bent over forwards with his legs locked together at the knees, he presses on. People must be giving him the strangest looks, but he doesn’t pay them any mind, intent on getting to the car and finally taking care of his still raging erection. His eyes focus on the shape of Nadia’s body as she leads him out through the gates and into the massive parking lot, trying to keep his mind off of his bladder and think about his incredibly sexy girlfriend instead.

His foot hits the pavement, and immediately he’s hit with a gust of cold air as his body leaves the walls of the waterpark. Alex feels a full-body shudder and gasps as his bladder contracts sharply, eyes widening as he feels a long, three-second burst of piss explode past his sphincter muscles and re-wet his previously cold bathing suit. His legs, already sticky from half-dried piss, wobble under his body, and he moans once again, clutching himself as tightly as he can to get the flow to stop.

“Nadia, Nadia !” he whisper-shouts, eyes practically crossing with the power of his desperation. “I need to go, I- I need to pee , now! I- haaah- can’t hold it!”

Nadia turns around, one hand on her hip, looking thoroughly unimpressed, yet he can tell from the spark in her expression that she’s still just as turned on as he is. “What, you can’t make it to the car?” she challenges, raising an eyebrow at him. “We parked so close to the entrance, though. It’s only what, thirty or forty feet away?”

“I can’t ,” Alex cries, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I- I need to go so bad , I- haah, I have to go!”

Nadia steps forward and reaches down, pressing her own hand against his penis, and Alex moans again, torn between wanting friction and release. “Come on, baby,” she says, her voice low and sultry. “Don’t you want me? You know you can only have me if you make it.”

“I’m trying , b-but I’m so full ,” Alex gasps, panting, eyes rolling up to meet Nadia’s. “ Please, just let me-”

“No,” Nadia says. “You don’t have permission. You can’t go yet.”

With that, she removes her hand with a single upwards stroke, sending Alex’s mind into overdrive once again. Shakily, he takes a step forward, and feels a long gush of pee burst into his shorts and splatter tellingly onto the ground. He takes the shallowest breaths he can, feeling as if anything deeper than a short huff of air will cause him to burst on the spot.

He should have just taken the opportunity he’d had before and pissed in the family restroom when he’d had the chance. Now he’s out in the open, holding himself for dear life and mere seconds away from disaster. He’s not even sure if he’d be able to have sex with Nadia in his current state, no matter how aroused he is. What if he really does piss himself in front of everyone, all the innocent kids and judgemental parents? How will he ever live it down?

He supposes there was a reason why Nadia wanted to come to the furthest waterpark away from them, after all.

Another step sends another burst of pee splashing down onto the ground, and for all that Alex has leaked and spurted, he certainly doesn’t feel any better. He has to pause, bring one leg up off the ground to press his thighs together and bob up and down, shifting his hips this way and that as he makes quiet little panting noises, doing his best not to moan and sob out loud. He’s so full, he’s much too full , and he knows he won’t be able to last much longer at the rate he’s going.

But Nadia wants him to keep going, to push himself further than he has before. She’s fixated on him, he’s sure, even though it might not seem like it right at that moment. He can tell from the little looks she shoots him over her shoulder as he stands behind her and squirms frantically, and he knows the only thing on her mind right now is him.

It’s this thought that motivates him to untwist himself from the human pretzel he’d become and inch forward, trailing after his girlfriend with a string of pathetic, embarrassing whimpers and gasps falling from his lips. He thanks the stars that they actually did park relatively close to the waterpark’s entrance, only a few rows away from the gates. It gives him at least a little peace of mind, that he won’t have to stagger through the entire parking lot with two hands on his dick, vigorously avoiding eye contact with confused children and their scandalized parents as he goes.

He’s panting now, from the strain and effort his body is putting into staying upright, standing normally, and clenching every muscle he has control over. His body is shaking all over from the stress he’s putting it through, and his jaw is clenched so tightly that it hurts, but he hardly notices. All of the focus he has left is spent putting one foot in front of the other, and over, and over again, until he catches sight of the car about twenty feet away, just one row over.

He’s sure now, that he won’t be able to make it through sex. As painfully hard as he still is, the tiny part of his brain that’s still thinking rationally reminds him that he’s still leaking every few seconds, and that the pressure sex would put on his bladder would ultimately be his end. His new goal is to make it to the privacy of his car’s row, where he’ll be hidden between

Finally! he thinks, relief washing over him all at once. Finally, he’s at the car, the final destination, the last goal for his tired, tortured body to work through. Soon he’ll be there, hidden amongst the tightly packed cars, and he’ll finally have the privacy and time he’s been denied for so long, he’ll finally be able to relax, let go, and let it all out…

It’s the thought of relief after hours of holding in so many pints of beer and glasses of water that ultimately proves to be too much for him, the final straw on the camel’s back--or rather, the last drop to make him overflow. He lets out a startled cry as he feels his muscles weaken for just a second, and a long, forceful stream of piss is suddenly flooding his cupped hands and splattering onto the ground noisily.

“ Ah! ” he gasps, squeezing his dick as tightly as he can and dancing about wildly, lifting his left leg to curl around his right and hunching over as he rotates his hips in frantic little circles, but it’s no use. As soon as he thinks he has the first stream under control, a second, longer spurt re-wets his hands and continues to puddle around him.

“Nadi- nngh, Nadia!” he exclaims, hunching over as more piss splatters onto the ground. “I’m- I can’t h-hold it anymore! Ahh, haah, I have to go!”

“Wait!” Nadia commands, whipping around and darting forward, one hand outstretched like she wants to help but can’t. “Alex, we’re in public. Don’t you want to make it back to the car?”

“I-I can’t ,” Alex sobs, letting out a shuddering breath as his body convulses. He’s too full, too filled, there’s too much water inside of him and it needs to get out now , or he’s going to explode.

He clenches his muscles as tight as he can, cutting off the third stream, and pain spikes through him from his abdomen into his stomach. Gasping, he falters, and urine gushes out of his cock like a faucet’s been turned on. “No, no no no ,” he pants, eyes wide as he crushes his cock between his hands, doing everything he can to stop the flow of pee from coming out. But it’s no use. His body is too tired, too overworked to even entertain the idea of holding it in for another second .

With a final pang of agony, his bladder contracts once again, and this time there’s no stopping the torrent of piss from splashing out of his still hard penis and onto the ground below him. He lets out an absolutely devastating moan of pleasure as his legs give out beneath him, landing on his knees on the rough pavement of the parking lot as urine pours out of him in buckets. The relief he feels is absolutely overwhelming, whiting out his brain and making him forget where he is, forget that people might be looking at him, forget everything that isn’t him focusing on the all-encompassing pleasure wracking his body.

He’s never felt this kind of release before, never experienced something so intense and mind-numbingly good . Even some of the best of his orgasms have never felt as wonderfully pleasurable as this moment, pissing to his heart’s content after over two hours of holding it in. He feels his flagging erection start to grow harder once again as the relief hits him head-on, leaving him loose-limbed and with an almost high feeling as he goes. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registers Nadia’s hand on the back of his neck, her hip against his shoulder as she stands in the puddle forming around him, but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes and apologize just yet.

After what must be over a minute of him going and going and going , his stream begins to weaken. Alex sighs, squeezing experimentally to get the last few drops out so he knows he’s completely and blissfully empty, and one by one his senses come back to him. The first thing he feels is rapidly cooling, sticky wetness from the crotch of his shorts all the way down his legs, pooling under his feet as he kneels in his own bodily fluids. The next thing he realizes is that he’s kneeling not only in a puddle of his own piss, but also in the middle of a public parking lot, with families and couples all around to see his shame.

His face flames red as his eyes fly open, and he makes horribly embarrassing eye contact with one or two shocked waterpark goers before his head turns to meet Nadia’s gaze. She’s smiling down at him, looking somewhere between exasperated and pleased, and that expression alone makes up for all of the embarrassment he’s suffering at the moment. She strokes his sweat-damp hair back from his face and bends down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, but she pulls away when he chases after her for more.

“Not yet,” she tells him in the same sultry voice from before. “You’ve been bad, Alex. Bad boys don’t get any rewards, now, do they?”

“N-No,” Alex replies, eyes darting down to meet his own gaze in the reflection of the pool of piss. “I’m sorry, Nadia. I really couldn’t hold it any longer.”

And he really had wanted to please her, too. He’d tried so hard to hold on just for her, to be a good boy and do as she asked him to. He’s disappointed in himself that he couldn’t make it just the littlest bit longer, just to make her happy.

“It’s alright, baby,” Nadia whispers, brushing her fingernails against his cheek. “You’ll just have to try again once we get home, won’t you?”

“Try again?” Alex repeats, perking up just a little bit. Nadia giggles and reaches out a hand to help him to his feet. Cool urine rushes down his legs and he shudders from the feeling, as well as from Nadia’s touch against his chest as he rises.

“It’ll be even better when we’re at home,” she says lowly. “I’ll be able to make you hold it for as long as I want to, and we won’t have to hide from anyone anymore. You’ll be able to squirm and dance and moan as much as you want to… Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Despite the ache in Alex’s abdomen, and the overall bone tiredness throughout his body, he feels his dick react just the littlest bit at her words. His face is still flushed with embarrassment from having an accident in front of so many people, and he’s still sore and exhausted from coming down from such a long, tiring hold, but surprisingly enough, he finds that the scenario she’s describing sounds rather nice.

“Y-Yeah,” he agrees shakily as Nadia leads him to the car, a promise on her face. “Sounds good.”

Now he really can’t wait until they get home.

#omorashi #male omorashi #male desperation #op #waterpark omorashi #fanfic #omorashi fanfic #commissions

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redrebecca · 5 years

Text

Bubble Baths

You may have two kids, but it often feels like you have three (dad!shawn)

Warning(s): None

A/N: So i was gonna make it short but i definately wrote more than what i was planning because dad!shawn is my weakness. Feedback is always appreciated, have a nice day!

Words: 2.7k, is it obvious i got carried away??

A content smile was plastered across your face as you stood in the hallway. You gazed at the framed photo – a photo Josiah had taken on you and Shawn’s wedding day, of the two of you stooped over in laughter with cake covering your faces. Even a brief glance at that particular photo made your heart beat faster as memories of that day came flooding back. All of the moments of pure bliss and happiness that you vowed to never forget – and you hadn’t. Taking the dusting cloth, you wiped around the frame, carefully realigning the photo when it slightly shifted on the nail.

Suddenly, two small arms wrapped around your knees, a loud, joyful squeal almost made you drop the bottle of polish and the cloth you were holding. You regained yourself when you realised who the miniature imposter was and placed the cleaning bottles onto the side bench, before you scooped up the little giggling boy.

“Hey baby.” You cooed as Raul wrapped his chubby arms behind your neck and pressed his face into the area just below your collar bone, his Shawn-like curls tickling your chin as he nuzzled closer to you. His fingers toyed with the strands of hair that had, throughout the day, fallen from your bun.

“Honey, we’re home!” Shawn’s voice came from behind you. You spun around which caused the very excitable toddler to giggle – and saw that Shawn appeared to be in the exact same position as you, except for the fact he had Leo wrapped around his neck instead of Raul.

Shawn had surprised you this morning by announcing he would be taking Raul and Leo on and impromptu daytrip around Pickering – where you had moved shortly before the birth of the boys. You and Shawn had both agreed that the hustle and bustle of the centre of Toronto wasn’t where you wanted them to grow up.

“I would hug you but I don’t think it would turn out too well” You said, gesturing to the twins. Shawn threw his head back, a heart-warming laugh escaping. He shut the door behind him and pulled you into side hug instead, peppering your forehead with butterfly kisses as the two young boys babbled to each other, totally unaware of anything that was happening around them.

“Hey boys?” Shawn said. Instantly their focus switched to Shawn and they stared up at him with their big brown eyes – their sudden attentive expressions made you chuckle lightly, sure Raul had his moments, but they were both daddy’s boys, through and through. “Why don’t you put your new toys in the toy box?”

Shawn’s request was met by the two toddlers trying their best to wriggle out of your arms, their giggles following them as they waddled down the corridor. You were so absorbed in watching your kids’ carefree and slightly clumsy actions that you didn’t feel your husbands gaze. “Did you have a good day?” He asked as he finally pulled you into a child-free hug, his arms tugging you closer to him.

You hummed into his shoulder. “It was good,” you closed your eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of the man you loved. “But I missed my boys.” Shawn’s lips pulled up into a smile against your neck.

“I missed you too” He murmured. You grinned mischievously to yourself.

“That’s awkward, I was talking about Raul and Leo.” You shrieked as he tickled your sides, you tried to escape his hold but his arms had already securely locked you in place. He eventually ceased his assault on your sides and pulled back, a full pout adorned his face. You laughed quietly at the fact that having kids hadn’t really made him more mature, instead he was beginning to act more and more like his three year old sons.

Your smile quickly slipped off your face however, when you remembered what Shawn had said earlier. “I thought you promised that you wouldn’t buy them anymore toys this month.” You said, crossing your arms across your chest and raising an eyebrow. Shawn visibly faltered at your perfected mom-look.

“I-I,” You firmly held his gaze. “I’m sorry I- Leo said he really wanted a tractor a-and he hasn’t got a tractor, but then the tractor came with a trailer, and you can’t just buy a trailer without anything to put in it.” He looked at you expectantly, as if you were going to agree with the whole ‘you can’t just buy a trailer’ speech, although you were very sure you could just buy a trailer. You were sure Shawn knew this as well, but the boys had him wrapped around their fingers and they knew it – and clearly used it to their advantage. You opened your mouth a few times before shutting it, your husband rendering you speechless. He winced “I promise I had a good reason at the time.” You shook your head slowly.

“Mr Mendes you really are… something.” He didn’t have time to answer before Raul and Leo came barrelling out of their playroom and headed towards where you and Shawn were still stood. Both of the boys reached up and tugged on your t-shirt. You knelt down so you were at eye level – you made sure to appreciate these moments, because if they were anything like Shawn (which they already were), they’d be taller than you by the time they turn 15.

“Momma.” Raul babbled. You nodded, waiting patiently for him to form his sentence. “Me and Leo,” You smiled as he pointed over to his twin, as if you had forgotten who Leo was. “Baff.” You took a second to process his word before answering.

“You want a bath?” At the mention of a bath, their faces lit up. Raul clapped his hands together excitedly whilst Leo did what could only be described as a happy dance. “Of course, you can.” You stood up and looked over to Shawn.

“I’ll get them ready and you run the bath?” He asked, you smiled and nodded.

“Deal.” He grinned, kissing you for good measure before he bent over to pick Raul and Leo up, one boy in each arm before hauling them over his shoulders. Their happiness was infectious as their shrieks and giggles bounced off the walls as Shawn made his way towards the stairs. You beamed, little moments like this made all of the tantrums and sleepless nights worth it.

You followed them up the stairs. “Help me momma!” Leo squealed as Shawn tickled his sides and you couldn’t help but laugh as the twins reached the stage where when they tried to speak, only giggles escaped - the sensation of being tickled becoming too much for them to think about anything else. You leant against the door frame and watched with a grin across your face as you watched Shawn gently drop them onto their beds. Their tiny chests heaving as they spluttered out small bursts of laughter. Turning and closing the door behind you, you headed towards the bathroom, quickly turning on the taps. You rifled through the cabinets to try and find their favourite bubble bath – a one that the bottle looked like a rocket ship. You can remember the fascination they had with the bottle when you had originally bought it from the shop. After pushing various shampoo bottles out of the way, you found it along with the vast rubber duck collection you had acquired over your three years of parenthood.

You switched the hot water tap off and added the bubble bath and the rubber ducks. In a matter of seconds, heaps of foam had appeared, hiding the brightly coloured bath toys from your view. As soon as you were satisfied with the water temperature, you turned the cold tap off as well.

The door swung open and the sound of small feet smacking against the wooden floor echoed off the tiles. “Bubbles!” The boys shouted in unison before they rushed towards where you were perched on the edge of the bath. Leo lifted his arms above his head, waiting for you to help him. You picked Leo up and lowered him into the water, checking once again if the temperature was too hot or too cold.

However, being the more adventurous and dare-say reckless of the two, Raul resorted to clambering up the sides of the tub. He narrowly avoided an injury as you hoisted him up and put him in the bubble filled tub before he could do any harm. It was then when you realized that Shawn still hadn’t made an appearance, you turned towards the door, extending your neck at a strange angle to try and catch a glimpse of your husband.

Your attention was quickly snapped back to the toddlers as you felt water being splashed at you. You whipped your head to where a very sheepish Raul was sat next to Leo, who was blatantly holding back a laugh. “Who was that?” You said, biting your lip to stop a laugh from escaping and ruining your convincing serious tone. The boys exchanged glances before looking back to you – even at their age they had already established the twin telepathy thing. However, before either one could say anything, Shawn shouted from behind you.

“Get her boys!” The next thing you knew you were soaking wet with Raul and Leo relentlessly splashing water at you. You found that you were unable to move as Shawn had snuck up on you and looped his arms around you from behind, effectively preventing any way you could escape. You shielded your face with your hands which only seemed to spur the two on, their little arms moving in a frenzied blur as they tried to splash as much water as you as they could.

“Good job.” Shawn said as he began to realize just how much of a mess they were making – he was almost certain that there was more water on the floor than there was in the bath – he relaxed his hold around you and stood up. It was only then you realized he was only wearing his swimming trunks, his defined abs and upper torso on show. “You alright honey? He asked when he noticed your obvious stare. You managed to avert your eyes from his body and towards his brown eyes, your cheeks turning red when you realized you’d been caught.

“Why are you wearing those?” But instead of answering he walked around you and gently moved Leo further down the bath before he stepped in, joining the toddlers in the bath. You looked at him in shock, causing him to chuckle.

“I’m adapting.” He said proudly. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Adapting?” You said slowly. He nodded, a smug grin on his face as he began to play with a blue duck that Raul had placed in his tattooed hand. “How is this adapting?” You gestured to where he was sat in the bath, amongst the scented bubbles. It was possible that his behaviour could have been mistaken for a three year old.

“Remember how much trouble washing their hair is from outside of the bath,” You nodded hesitantly. “Well this way, I’ve got easy access to the hair and only one of us gets wet” You raised your eyebrows and moved your arm in a sweeping motion, making his eyes drop to your t-shirt which was beginning to turn see-through because of how wet it was. “Oh, sorry love.” was all he said, a guilty look plastered on his face. You rolled your eyes and reached to your left, where the bottle of kids shampoo was on the floor next to you, and handed it over to Shawn. He smiled and got to work. He carefully lathered Leo’s curls, taking extra care not to get any of the shampoo in his eyes as he did so, whilst you entertained Raul by playing with the rubber ducks with him. “Okay, stay still bud.” Shawn murmured as he began to rinse the product out of Leo’s hair, he smiled gratefully at you when you placed a face cloth into Leo’s tiny hands so he could cover his eyes from the stray water droplets with something.

In no time, Leo and Raul were fully washed and dried. You ushered them out of the bathroom and towards their room. “Hey,” Shawn said from behind you. You turned to see him drying himself off with a fresh towel. “Do you want a bath?” You smiled and nodded, a nice warm bath would be the perfect ending to your unusually peaceful day. “I’ll run you some fresh water, this has gone cold.” He murmured as he reached to pull the plug. You wrapped your arms around him. At first he flinched, obviously not expecting it before he relaxed and interlocked his hands with yours which were splayed across his stomach. You pressed a kiss in the gap between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you.” You mumbled into his damp skin before you wandered to where the boys were.

“Mini Mendes 1 and 2 are in bed and finally asleep.” You said quietly as you entered the bathroom. You instantly recognised the sweet scent of your favourite candle as you stepped in. You gasped loudly as you took in the completely transformed room. You raised a hand to your mouth as you noticed everything from the rose petals in the bath to the way the only light was coming from the various candles dotted around the room. It didn’t take you long for you to return your focus to Shawn, who stood with a wine glass in each hand, a towel hanging loosely from his hips and a wide beaming smile on his face. “You are perfect.” You whispered as he placed his glass on the floor and stepped closer to you. You could never explain it but it was as if you always gravitated towards him, and him to you.

He kissed your neck, his hands trailing down to the waistband of your jeans and tugging – not so subtly hinting at what he wanted. You slapped his arm gently as his thumbs slipped underneath the waistband of your panties as well as your jeans. He groaned. “C’mon, the water will get cold.” It didn’t take long after that for the clothes to come off, Shawn’s towel easily sliding from where he had knotted it earlier. He stepped in the bath first before he offered his hand to you – which you gratefully took – the two of you relaxing in the warm water. You were sat in between his legs, your back against his firm chest and his arms draped loosely around your torso. Your breathing naturally synchronised to the rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his breaths in your hair was the only noise in the bathroom. It was fair to say that you had never appreciated silence as much as you did after having kids, because, although you loved them with all of your heart, they could be a handful.

The peace was broken when Shawn laughed behind you. You turned around in confusion and he brought his hands closer to his face. “I definitely did not think this through.” He chuckled. You took his hand in yours and giggled when you saw what he was talking about. His wrinkled skin. “I look like a really old, old man.” He said.

“You’re more like a shrimp.” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him – which only made him laugh more.

“Or a raisin.”

“Prune.”

“I think it looks like a- ” His brown eyes darted from his hand to your eyes “Did you just call me a prune?” Disbelief was apparent in his voice.

“Maybe I did.” You giggled “Shawn Prune Raisin Mendes.” You were thankful that Shawn clamped his hand over your mouth as he began to poke your sides, or you were sure you would’ve woken up the two sleeping toddlers who were only a room away. He eventually stopped and pulled you into his chest again, but this time both of your breaths were ragged from laughter. You turned slightly to press you cheek against his chest, snuggling closer to him as his hand started to run through you hair.

You couldn’t stop the wide smile on your face – because you had the perfect little family.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fluff #dad!shawn #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes xreader #shawn mendes x you #shawn x you #shawn x reader #shawn peter raul mendes

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smkkbert · 5 years

Text

Time for a story - Bubble Bath

“Everyone was happy and merry. Only Little John felt the beast bit sad. ‘Now Robin has such a lovely wife, he will not need his friends anymore,’ he said sorrowfully to himself.”

Felicity didn’t even have to look into the book as she was reading the story out for Addie. In the past six months, whenever Felicity had put Addie to bed, she had insisted to have one of her many Robin Hood stories read out for her. That was why Felicity could recite them from her memory by now.

Usually, Addie mumbled some words to make the story sound even more like it was about Oliver. She would say that it didn’t take place in England, but in Starling City. She would insist that he hadn’t gotten married to Maid Marian, but to Queen Felicity. She would also state that Little John just had to be Uncle John because, just like Little John, her uncle John was a hulk of a man.

Tonight, Emmy was fast asleep. After the long hours they had spent at Thea and Roy’s loft, celebrating Robbie’s second birthday, she had passed out before they had been halfway through the story. Felicity knew that Addie would immediately wake up if Felicity didn’t read the story to the end though.

“But Maid Marian saw that he looked sad, and guessed why, so she talked kindly to him, and soon he was as merry as the rest. They sang and danced and played, and no one seemed to tire.”

Felicity moved her hand from Addie’s back to her head. Her fingertips moved through her curly hair, brushing against her scalp. Addie sighed contently and snuggled her cheek even more against the top of Felicity’s chest. Felicity couldn’t see all of her face, but what she saw of her daughter looked utterly content.

Sometimes, Felicity made a little fun of Oliver for being so sappy when it came to the kids growing up too fast. Still, she couldn’t deny that there were moments, moments like this, when she felt the same way. She loved lying in bed with her kids and having them snuggle up to her while she was reading them a bedtime story. In a couple of years, neither of them would want her to read them a bedtime story anymore.

“So this happy day came to an end. The red sun sank behind the trees. The birds slept, and all the forest was silent, only the bright stars were awake, and watched over Robin and his band.”

As the story was getting towards its end, Felicity felt how tired she was too. Having those big Arrow Family parties was always nice because they didn’t spend nearly enough time together. At least outside of the bunker, there was never enough time to spend together. Between their work there and their normal jobs, it wasn’t easy finding time as a normal family.

As nice as those afternoons were, they always left Felicity exhausted. Making sure the kids didn’t overeat with cake and didn’t get into a fight about all the toys while also taking care that they didn’t exhaust Hawk too much, wasn’t exactly easy. After days like this, Felicity wondered how she had the energy to manage a company like Queen Incorporated.

“Robin and Marian lived together for a long, long time and were very, very happy. They lived so happily together and loved each other so much that ‘to love like Robin Hood and Maid Marian’ came to be a proverb. And to this day, in the place where Maid Marian lived before she went to the Green Wood, and where she was buried when she died, they give a prize each year to the man and wife who have lived most happily together. The End.”

As quietly as possible, Felicity closed the book. Continuing to brush her fingertips through Addie’s hair, she put the book to the bedside table and snuck out from the weight of Addie’s body. She rested Addie’s head in the pillow gently and bend over her to place a gentle kiss on her daughter’s temple.

“Goodnight, Baby.”

Felicity switched off the light and headed towards the door. Although Addie was so deep asleep, she didn’t dare to walk any differently than on the tips of her toes. She was sure that one little noise would be enough to pull Addie from the depth of her sleep and make her demand another bedtime story since she wasn’t asleep yet.

When Felicity stepped onto the single floorboard that wasn’t perfectly in place, causing it to cause the smallest of a noise, she froze.

“Mama?”

It took a lot from Felicity to bite back a cry of frustration. Getting Addie to fall asleep was anything but easy because she loved to fight sleep. Sometimes, she would lie awake for hours and bombard her parents with questions. Oliver had once fallen asleep in the meantime, so Addie had just pulled her blanket over him, kissed him goodnight and moved into her parents’ bed. She was not an easy girl to put to bed.

“Yes?”

Felicity did her best to smile at Addie patiently, hoping that maybe she was getting an easy way out of this somehow after all.

“You and daddy live most happily together?”

At that, Felicity’s smile grew incredibly warm. She loved how much the kids loved their parents’ love for each other if that made sense. Felicity knew that she wasn’t without failure as a mother, and Oliver wasn’t without failure as a father either although Felicity thought that he was pretty damn close. No matter how many failures they might have, they had showed their kids what real love looked like and that might be the most important lesson a kid had to lean to find happiness.

“The most happily together there ever has been.” Felicity smiled and blew her daughter a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With that, Addie rolled onto her side and curled up under her blanket. She closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep instantly. It had to be a gift to fall asleep that quick once you allowed yourself to fall asleep.

Felicity continued her way to the door. She shot a brief look back over her shoulders before she reached out for the light switch and-

“Mama?”

Felicity took in a deep breath, reminding herself that Addie was not even three years old. She was still a toddler. She loved to delay falling asleep.

“Yes, Addie?”

When Felicity turned around to Addie once more, she saw that her daughter was looking at her with wake eyes. Felicity almost expected her to come up with some meaningful question that would take hours to answer.

“Leave the door ajar, please?”

Felicity smiled with relief. That was a question that was quick to answer.

“I will,” she promised. “Night, Baby.”

“Night, Mama.”

With that, Felicity switched off the light and stepped outside. Just like promised, she left the door ajar instead of closing it completely. Some light from the hallway fell into Addie’s room that way, and Felicity knew that it gave he daughter the feeling of safety.

Sucking in a deep breath, Felicity turned towards the bedroom and strolled into that direction. She pulled her hair tie from her hair, making her blonde curls fall down onto her shoulders. She combed the strands with her fingers. It felt incredibly good to have it released from the strict ponytail she was always wearing.

All she really wanted now was to go to bed. She couldn’t wait to crawl under the blanket, have Oliver covering her with the warmth of his body and fall asleep to his soft breath against the top of her chest. She was so used to that feeling now that she could barely sleep without it.

To Felicity’s surprise, Oliver wasn’t lying in bed. Usually, he was already waiting for her to come to bed when it was her turn to put Addie to bed. Tonight, there was only Hawk. He was already fast asleep, lying across the mattress with his legs stretched out, and snored contently.

Smiling, Felicity walked past him to the bedroom. She was already reaching for the zipper at the back of her dress when she put a foot into the bathroom and stopped.

“Hey.”

Felicity perked up an eyebrow, taking in the sight of her thoroughly. Oliver was sitting in the bathtub, surrounded by what looked like a million bubbles as the bath additive had built a thick layer of foam around him. He had leaned back, looking utterly content as he looked at her over the rim of his wine glass.

“Hi.”

For the break of a second, Felicity’s gaze turned away from Oliver. She caught sight of the bottle of red wine that was placed on the rim of the bathtub.

“Is that a Lafite Rothchild?”

“1982,” Oliver replied, nodding his head proudly, “for my wife just the best.”

Felicity walked over to the bathtub and sat down on the rim of it. She grabbed the bottle of wine, turning it in her hand to take a look at the label. Indeed, it was her absolutely favorite kind of wine. By now, there shouldn’t be many bottles left and those that were still available had to be over the top expensive.

Besides, Oliver usually restrained from drinking. Since Dr. Rosario had advised him to restrain from drinking any alcohol, he had barely touched any. He was sparing those few times that he drank after all for special occasions.

“I thought that tonight was the right night for this little treasure.” Oliver put his glass of wine to the side and moved his hand to her calves, so his fingertips could move up and down there slowly. “William’s with Audrey. Emmy is sleeping at John’s and Lyla’s. Tommy and Millie are at Tommy’s and Laurel’s. Addie and Hawk are asleep.”

A little time just for themselves when they could be almost sure that they wouldn’t be disturbed really sounded like the perfect timing for this wine.

“I liked to take a bath with you when you were sick, so I thought tonight called for a repetition. It’s a nice way to conclude this evening a calm way.”

“And the delicious way.” Felicity waved with the bottle of wine in her hand. “Like what’s better than wine?”

“Your naked husband?”

Felicity snorted, shooting Oliver a quick glance. Apparently, he wasn’t too happy with her answer because he had his eyes narrowed at her.

“What are you-“

Before she got to ask what was on his mind, Oliver snapped the bottle of wine from her hands, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into the warm water. Both his arms wrapped around her tightly, making sure she got completely soaked.

“Oliver!”

As much as she tried to stay serious while she protested, she couldn’t prevent an amused chuckle to fall from her lips. She didn’t fight his arms for long. Instead, she relaxed against him and let him hold her for a moment.

In a lot of ways, she and Oliver still behaved like teenagers that had just fallen in love. When it was just them, they knew they could just give into all the butterflies that were still fluttering in their stomachs whenever they were together. Time had changed a lot about their relationship, but that feeling of being head over heels in love with each other had never gone away.

Resting her head back against Oliver’s shoulder, she looked at his face. Oliver’s eyes were already directed at her, taking her in. The gentle smile on his lips told her that he was as content as he could possibly be.

“Happy now?”

Oliver grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. “Very.”

Even if Felicity had wanted to, she was unable to bite back the smile she felt pulling at the corners of her lips. When Oliver was happy, she was happy. It was impossible for her to feel any different. Their souls were so connected that neither of them could feel anything without making the other feel it too.

Straightening up a little, she brushed a kiss against the underside of Oliver’s jaw. She lifted her hands over her head in a silent request. Oliver didn’t have to be asked twice. He got what she wanted immediately. He lowered the zipper of her dress and pulled it over her head. He opened the clasp of her bra and tugged down her panties.

When Felicity leaned back against Oliver’s chest this time, she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes with a content sigh.

The water embraced her in warmth. The flowery scent of the bath additive almost made her feel a little tired. With Oliver’s half erect cock resting against her sex, she knew she wouldn’t fall asleep though. Maybe, once she had regained some energy, they would change the atmosphere of the situation. Right now, it just wasn’t about sex.

A low chink made her open her eyes. Smiling, she took the glass of her favorite red wine that Oliver offered and clinked her glass with his before she took a sip. The wine tasted like heaven, even better than she remembered from the last glass she had had years ago.

Oliver took her glass and put it back to the edge of the bathtub. He wrapped both of his arms around her shoulders and rested his lips against her temple. His head dipped forward. His nose pushed into her hair, breathing her in. Felicity put her hands to his forearms and snuggled her cheek against his bicep.

For a long moment, it felt like there was only them in the world. There was just this bathtub, their glasses of wine and them. Right now, that was everything Felicity wanted and needed.

“We didn’t have much time for each other lately, did we?”

Felicity tried to figure out when she and Oliver had had a really quiet moment just for themselves. The only thing that came to her mind was when they had used the rest of the evening after all kids had been in bed to watch some old videos they had recorded when the kids has been younger. That was already seven weeks ago though.

“No, we didn’t.”

Of course they had spent a lot of time together, but they had mostly done so as mother and father or as partners in the bunker, a couple of times even as the mayor and his first lady or the mayor and the owner of one of the city’s wealthiest companies. The times they had been able to spend together as husband and wife had been limited though, mostly little moments they had stolen between other things to do. It didn’t do anything to distance them from one another because their mutual feelings were just too strong for that. Still, it made them realize how much they needed each other as soulmates.

Felicity turned her head, so she could look Oliver in the eyes. She could see there that he had missed her as much as she had missed him. Within the last seven weeks, they might not have noticed it because they hadn’t been exactly separated, but it was obvious now.

“We have to make more time for each other,” Felicity whispered, “we have to make more time for things like this.”

Oliver nodded. “Definitely.”

Releasing a long breath, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. Felicity watched his face closely and saw how content he was feeling now. Maybe something inside of him had felt that not everything was the way it was supposed to be.

“Maybe we should establish date nights,” Oliver suggested eventually, pulling back just enough to look at her, “nights that are just for us.”

“Date nights.”

Felicity repeated the words and felt the corners of her lips tugging at hearing them. Technically, she and Oliver had never really dated. Their first date had ended in an explosion and torn them apart. A few months later, she had showed up at his doorstep and told him that they would be together whether he wanted to or not. During the years they had been together, they had gone out on some date-like things, but they had never had a true date night the way other couples had.

Oliver frowned slightly as she didn’t answer.

“Is that stupid?”

“No.” Felicity smiled and lifted a hand to his cheek. Her fingertips stroked through his stubble while her thumb rested against his dimple. “Date nights sound great. I love that.”

“Okay.” Oliver’s smile matched hers. “Good.”

“We just need to make room in our schedules to make it work.”

Oliver nodded his head. “What about every other Tuesday? We are always off from Arrow duty on Tuesday, at least if there aren’t any emergencies. Raisa isn’t off on Tuesday nights, so she can make sure the kids go to bed at a reasonable time, while we are out for our date.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Felicity smiled. “We will make it work.”

“We will make it work.”

Their promise was everything they needed to know that they would indeed make it work. There would always be times that they wouldn’t be able to make it work because life, especially their life, was unpredictable. There would always be times that they would just need to prioritize other things. Just making this promise of always doing the best they could to make time for each other was enough though.

“I really missed you,” Felicity whispered, “I missed being in your arms like this.”

“Yeah.” Oliver chuckled breathlessly. “I mean I love our kids. I love the family we have created, but at least once in a while, I selfishly want you all for myself.”

“I feel the same way.” Felicity sank a little deeper into the water, snuggling even closer to Oliver. “Hence, we should stay here for a little longer because we definitely have to share each other with Hawk if we leave the bathtub.”

“I guess we will stay in here forever then.”

Smiling, Felicity turned, so her chest was pressed to Oliver’s. She rested her head right over his heart with a sigh and closed her eyes, thinking about how content she was if she got caught in this moment and would live here forever.

“Forever sounds nice,” she whispered sleepily, “really nice.”

Oliver leaned his lips against the crown of her head and tightened his arms around her. “No, it doesn’t. It sounds perfect.”

* * *

@fannaz @promiseyoullbepatientwithme @bytemegeekette @felicity-said-just-in-case @phanseptiic @orangeisorange @mspotatohead14 @whentheheavenfades @emmaamelia95 @smoakingskye @seaolicity @ourwritinginvein @1022bridgetp @felicityqueenforever @leagueofolicity17 @yryssss @myhauntedblacksoul @sherlock44 @sinceriouslybea @olivyflavescentdeer @olicitys-castle @ofnothingcharming @vaelisamaza @smoakedandcharmed @alexisa1206 @mysaudadespt2 @florence-bubbles @addictiontelly @queens-of-arrows @memcjo @hysterical-for-joshifer-blog @oswinelevenforever @olicitylovemaking @bandanab310 @mymusiclove101 @lynslogic @scarletqueen23 @olicityshipper19 @alex-wesley @arrows-4ever @unabashedlynerdypatrol @louehmysoul @ligiapimenta @chattyyana @charlie-leau @coal000 @samcrowleys @ishippolivia @julianegomesqueen @malafle @miriam1779 @charlinert @melaux @ontheolicityship @myshipperlife @wrightainsley @lexi9515 @ladygreenwood @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl @morinamel @mje-thomas @kebarry @canadianheartgirl @nannett2307 @almondblossomme @kathrynelizabeth89 @imdfabulous @mrt2501 @arsipaci14 @salasvia @brandis91 @cainc3 @morganmiguess @pr0fessi0nal-fangurl @iamisalima @nessafrancis-blog @jonhdiggle @niki-is-amazing @universed-posts @hopeful-warrior @senoritaswiftie @bellemmie @green-arrows-of-karamel @iheartarrow @olicityovereverything @oliverfel4 @olicity-in-the-heart @fullychippedcreation @geemarie @everything-but-normal-cat @myarroworld @tjmartinez @pleasantfanandstudent @j69confessional2 @scentedcolorpirate @icanica74 @tjmartinez98 @certainmentalityface @tatianadamaceno @ryelew @wildwillowzepplin @missafairy @letsplaymurde-r @lipizette @positivepiper @nuttymilkshakehologram @laksagirl @turnupthemusicandscream @pumpernickle93 @onceuponanolicity @1106angel @jaspertown @fadinglands @morganashimi83 @mochababychristy @omglovechrissie @mariejr88-blog @thetaufactor @onceuponanolicity @speakandseethetruth @bri206 @aglasgo @geemarie @pineprincess @nerdgirljen @eternal-olicity14 @allyouhadtodowas-stay-stay-stay @lovelycssefan @tsseract @flowerandsunshine @dcnmarvelgamergeek @blondeeoneexox @monetsmark @bb-olicity @mashamarty @rulerofsilence @erika-amber @nothingmorethanmyotps @kayleenyc @tonto16 @olicityfluv @olicitea1990 @haahaaa2408 @pattid1 @faegal04 @24karatgem @wrldtravler @readerkas @olicity-beliver @greencoffeecups @snorlaxishere

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#arrow #olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #time for a story

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

SEE STORY (Part 5 of 5) A tale from the World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEE STORY

Part 5 of 5

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat

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New to SEE STORY? Read from the beginning. Part 1 is HERE.

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14372 words

written 2003

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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“Oh, look! She has Strong Skins and Wing Rays and Orcas! Buy me one, please Daddy!”

“Look, Kara, this girl has a model of a fishing smack, just like the one Mother uses. Would you like it?”

It was not long before every one was sold.

A few sailors of the Grandalor wandered by, speaking loudly, “Make lots of toys, Longin! They’re all that you’ll have next Gathering. We pulled your best waters right out from under you in the Council Meeting. Didn’t give squat for ‘em either.” They linked arms and walked away, laughing.

Kurin came running up to Cat, in tears. “Did they really take away our waters, Cat?”

Cat gathered the child into her arms and held her. “Calm yourself, Little Fish … That’s it.” She petted Kurin’s hair gently. “They think that they got our waters, Kurin. That is not the same as getting our waters. Where was the crab reef?”

Kurin wrinkled her brow in thought. “We sailed south for most of the night with a good wind and all sail …” Her eyes lit up. “It was in the buffer space between the Gula’s fishing waters and the Dolthin’s … They didn’t get it at all!” She clapped her hands in glee.

“I know that you,” here Cat, smiling, gently touched Kurin’s nose, “can keep a secret, so I will tell you. We tricked them out of a whole fishing water of better reefs. This is the most important thing to remember, though. If they had not tried to cheat us we could not have turned the tables on them. Always deal honestly, but never stupidly.”

The bazaar continued for days. Everyone chaffered and bargained for the best deals that they could get.

A small knot of sailors and officers had gathered a little way from the Longin’s booth, as they had for the last several days. The people changed, but the group remained. They were all there for the same reason. The Longin’s Lady Luck could most often be seen there, though this Gathering, there was no telling where she might turn up. Many were simply curious. Others were thinking of courting her.

“See her, there back of the Longin booth?” pointed Mara, the new First Mate of the Fauline. “That’s her with the white hair, like fresh foam.”

“She’s the Longin’s Luck? What a beauty!” said Torinsin, of the Gula’s rope walk. “I heard that she’s blind and helpless, though … Dragons! Look, she just dragged that whole tub of lobsters up front by herself. Don’t look helpless to me.”

“Lots of us been watching her. She don’t act blind. I wonder what the Grandalor’s up to this time. Spreading lies like that?” speculated Morin, of the Grython, stroking his chin. “Our Captain said that she would be welcome aboard.”

“Maybe they want to get her for themselves!” Mara put in. “Maybe I should ask some of the Fauline’s crew to meet her. Seems from what I’ve seen she’d be an asset to any crew.”

“I did hear that she’s marrying, gonna leave the Longin this year,” said Morin.

“That’s what’s up, for sure, then,” said old Ganther, the Dolthin’ Master Boatwright. “Grandalor is trying to grab the Longin’s Luck for themselves, and cut us all out. Just like them.”

“Is she still available? We have some good young men on the Gula that might do,” said Torinsin, eagerly.

“We all do! I talked to Captain Mord already. She’s bespoke,” said the Captain of the Grinna.

“What! What ship’s got her? Who’s the lucky guy?” asked Torinsin, only slightly downcast, but still eager for gossip.

“They’re keeping it under their watch-caps until the night of the full moons,” said Forin, Grinna’s First Mate, stroking her hair and smiling a little at Torinsin’s expression.

“Has anybody thought to ask her direct?” asked Ganther, cutting to the heart of the matter. “She’s easy to find, now. First time in nineteen - twenty Gatherings that anybody’s seen her much. Now, she’s all over the place.”

“I am, aren’t I?” said a cheerful voice, like splashing, flowing water.

The whole group jumped as if shocked by a Jolting Ray, and turned to see Cat, only a few feet away.

“So, tell us, who is it to be? What ship’s getting you?” asked Torinsin, eagerly.

“You all could have come to the Longin and courted me. Nobody did. I’m afraid that she’s right,” said Cat cheerfully, pointing to Forin. “Come and see on the Weddings Night.”

“Did anybody ever tell you that you are cruel?” said Torinsin with a cheerful grin.

“One or two … hundred … so far,” replied Cat. Then singling out Forin, she added, “Come, take me to your booth. You have some truly beautiful cloth that I would like to get. What do you call those woven-in pictures? ”

“I believe that you mean our brocade …” The two wandered off in the direction of the Grinna’s booth, chatting cheerfully.

The Longin finally ran out of shellfish. By the night of the Full Moons, the Longin had sold everything that they had brought and were preparing to strike their booth. Sold out or not, the other booths were being struck, too. The Gathering market was over and the space was needed.

As they were packing away empty tubs and lace spools, fabric bolt cores, and their awning, Cat noticed that Kurin was crying quietly. Packing could wait a few minutes.

“Little Fish, why do you weep?”

“‘Cause tonight you’re going to marry somebody from off of the Longin, and I won’t see you anymore.”

“Kurin, Kurin Behar, come here,” and she wrapped her strong arms about the child. “Come with us to the Weddings tonight and see my husband and love. If you do, I will give you a present that you will always have to remember me by. Besides, you may indeed see me from time to time.”

Kurin seized on that last. “You mean it? I’ll see you again, sometimes? Promise?”

The Captains of the many ships of the Gathering Fleet were now escorting their young men and women of marriageable age to the rafts that had been the marketplace. Most of those were going to meet people that they had been courting for at least several Gatherings. Some were friends from childhood. Only a few ships arranged marriages for advantage, without concern for the feelings of their young women and men.

Grandalor was such a ship, and as their marriage gigs rowed past the Longin on their way to the wedding barges, some of their women were openly sad. There were a few among them, however, who rejoiced that they were leaving so oppressive a Captain as Barad. Few of the young men looked happy at all. Their marriages were bringing, not happiness for themselves, but skilled women for the Grandalor; cooks, weavers, ropers, sail-lofters, and all those other skills needed to maintain life on the Sea.

The Longin’s young folk felt sorry for the Grandalor’s, but they climbed cheerfully into their own gigs, going to meet those folk that they had chosen, and who had chosen them as well. Cat was among their number, pulling an oar with a will. Those who wished to watch the marriages followed in other boats, Kurin among them.

Everyone on the Wedding rafts were divided into four groups, to the north the brides, to the south the grooms, to the east, the Captains and officers and to the west those who came to watch and wish well. That last group was by far the largest.

There was little room left on the rafts. A cheerful buzz of conversation drowned almost all else. Everyone knew that the Lady of the Longin’s Luck was due to marry, but to whom? What ship would be lucky enough to have her? It was clear that the Grandalor’s lies about Cat had been dispelled by all that people had seen her doing during the market.

The order of the ships was called. This was the order in which the ships would bring forth their grooms to meet their brides. The Longin was to be the last, by her own choice. Many felt that the suspense was deliberate.

Night had fallen to star filled darkness and the Wedding Rafts were lit with lanterns. Shortly after full dark, the eastern horizon began to glow. Soon the limb of large Wohan appeared over the horizon. Carsis followed and a few minutes later, little Dorac. All three continued to rise together until, for a moment, all three moons sat, just touching the horizon. Their light raced across water gone flat as glass, like three shafts of brilliance, converging on the Wedding Rafts.

There was a quiet that fell on all the watchers. A woman could be heard telling her children quietly, “Remember this moment. It will not happen again in your lifetime. The Dragon’s Moons only rise once in a thousand Gatherings.”

The ceremonies began. Sarfin, Captain of the Dorton called forth the Dorton’s grooms. Their brides were called and, rejoicing, went to their loves. When the roll was complete, the Dorton’s Ceremony of Marriage was spoken and the brides signed the Ship’s Articles as new crew-members. Each ship had its own version of the ceremony. Each Marriage from each ship took another bite of time. It was growing late.

Finally, Mord of the Longin called the last of the grooms forth, and besides the brides for them, there was one more, still uncalled. Cat would be left standing alone when the last of the Longin’s grooms had his wife. Everyone could count, and the raft was absolutely buzzing as people figured this out.

The last bride went to the last groom, and Cat stood alone, dressed in a lovely brocade of white with black leaping Orcas. Captain Mord came to her and said quietly, “Where is your groom?”

“He is here. Marry my friends, and then you will see.”

Shrugging, Captain Mord went back to the grooms and new brides of the Longin and began the Ceremonies of Marriage. Cat went to the spectators.

“Kurin! Kurin! Oh, there you are, Little Fish. I promised you a present on my wedding night, and you shall have it. Come with me.”

Trustingly, Kurin put her hand into Cat’s and followed her across the raft. The Longin’s Ceremony was just done. Captain Barad brayed, “I don’t see your groom!” His voice was cut off by the flat smack of open hand to cheek.

Mord withdrew his stinging hand and said poisonously, “MECAT, my sister in all but blood, has said that he is here. I believe her.” Turning to Cat, he said, “All of the marriages of this night but one are done. What do you want me to do?”

“State for all my name, ship and crew. My husband will make himself known.”

Turning to all the watchers, Captain Mord called out, “Cat, my sister in all but blood … Her name in full, dictated by Custom and Law is Mecat … Of the Longin her whole life, Our Gift from the Sea … Of no crew because of the Dragon’s name you bear … Who have you chosen and who has chosen you?”

All about the raft, a dozen huge fifteen-ton Orca whales jumped at once, rising clear out of the water and falling back with a huge report and splashing of sea water.

“Stand just here, little one,” Cat whispered to Kurin. “I will be back in a moment with your gift. Trust me, you will come to no harm.”

Raising her arms, Cat cried out in a voice like storm waves toppled by the wind, “Iren! Dark Iren! Come forth and claim your bride!” The ocean in front of her boiled and rushed aside as a huge Sea Dragon reared his head high in front of her.

The creature was covered with large black scales the size of a man’s hand. Spines ran down his back and frills adorned his head. There were large tendrils about the fanged mouth. Big dark, intelligent eyes gleamed from deep set sockets. Orcas rose with him to the surface.

Cat dove joyfully into the water and was gone. A minute passed and then two. A well-meaning woman, one of the Longin’s new brides, tried to lead Kurin away.

“Come, Dear. She is gone. As long as she has been under, she must be drowned.”

Kurin confidently shook off the kindly hand. “She told me to wait. This is a short dive for Cat. I’ve seen her do five minutes before.” Mystified by Kurin’s response, the woman waited with her.

The water swirled, and a second Sea Dragon rose up. This Dragon was pale, like new sea-foam, but scaled spined and frilled like the other. It had eight foot jaws, with two-foot fangs and eyes that were completely blank. It was blind. The monster head thrust toward Kurin, who refused to run. The woman fled in terror. Powerful tendrils about the Dragon’s mouth grabbed Kurin, and hugged her. Kurin, with a squeal of delight, tried to hug the massive snout.

“Oh, Cat! You’re back, just like you said.”

Blind Mecat, the Great Sea Dragon gently put the child down. “I have your gift, Kurin. Just stand for a moment.” The enormous jaws opened and a breath like fog came out and enveloped the child. As the breeze blew it away, everyone looked in amazement. Kurin’s hair, once dark, was now the color of new sea-foam.

~THE END~

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#SEE STORY #Part 5 of 5 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

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maxrev · 5 years

Text

Time to Go

My contribution to kaidanweek2019, Pre-Normandy days @spectrekaidanalenko

Tears fell from the corners of his eyes and he sniffled before swiping his sleeve across his nose. His mother would have admonished him but she was busy in the orchard with his father.

Grabbing his school backpack, Kaidan stuffed a shirt, jeans, socks, and underwear inside it along with a set of pajamas. On top of the pile of clothes, he carefully placed his well-worn bedtime story book, Little Bear. Through teary eyes, he cast one last look around the room. Saddened he’d almost forgotten his favorite toy, he placed his bunny named Jeff, which played Brahms Lullaby, in there as well.

The pack was getting full but he still had a little room. Inside went a picture of him with his parents, a flashlight, and of course, his favorite blue and white blankie.

Staring down at the now almost bursting backpack, he worried his lower lip. He had to take his pillow. Grabbing it, he stuffed it inside, crushing everything down. The zipper barely closed but he managed.

His parents were outside planting new saplings. They’d told him he could help but Kaidan lied, saying he didn’t feel good. Well, a little lie. It still made him feel horrible, especially when his mother fussed over him.

“What’s wrong, baobai? Is it your head, your tummy? Something else?” She felt his forehead with her hand.

Momma always took good care of him. At the door to his bedroom stood Poppa, a look of concern in his eyes. Kaidan had begun getting really bad headaches sometimes. This wasn’t one of those and he felt awful for pretending to be sick. Lying really did make his tummy hurt.

Eventually, his parents went outside and told him they’d come check on him in awhile. He’d been sure any minute one or both of them would come back and tell him they knew about the lie.

But they didn’t.

Shuffling down to the kitchen, Kaidan grabbed a chair, pushed it over to the pantry, climbed up and opened the door. He needed food. Something he didn’t have to make. He helped Momma make cookies sometimes and once she let him help make bread but he couldn’t do that on his own. He stared at the boxes before him – crackers, cookies, pop tarts he got only on Saturdays. He’d need some water, too.

Grabbing three or four of each, he pushed them into the pockets all around the backpack, the stuffed-to-bursting middle making it hard to squeeze them in. He opened it up and pulled out Jeff. Satisfied he had everything he needed, it was time to go. If he hurried, he could be gone before his parents knew.

Peeking through the window, he saw that they were in the barn. They’d be cleaning up and coming in soon. He had to hurry!

Slipping his feet into his boots lined up just by the door, he climbed up on the bench to reach his coat and scarf hung on hooks. The weather was still cool right now for spring. Kaidan opened the door, turning around to ease it closed. He didn’t want to alert his parents he was running away. They might not let him go.

“Kaidan? Son, where are you going?”

Little shoulders slumped in defeat. His father stood behind him. So close. He sniffled again, “I…I was…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. There was no way Poppa would understand and he just knew he was now in trouble.

“I’ll tell you what, let me go get your mom and we’ll sit down and have a cup of hot chocolate before you go. Deal?”

Kaidan’s head whipped up to look at his father, eyes wide. “Really?” He wasn’t mad! Relief surged through him but then he had another thought. He wasn’t mad…yet.

“Yeah, really.” Ruffling his son’s hair, he went to get Grace.

Remaining on the porch by the front door, Kaidan waited, hands in his pockets. It was getting cooler by the minute. Hot chocolate sounded so good. He didn’t get it often so he was a little surprised Poppa had offered it.

He watched as both parents came out of the barn and walked towards him. Poppa had his arm around Momma and they were whispering to each other. They looked serious…but happy. Unsure, he scuffed the toe of his boot against the porch.

Maybe they wouldn’t be mad until after hot chocolate. Maybe they’d put whipped cream and chocolate shavings on it like they did for him sometimes. He could almost taste it, even now.

His parents approached the porch, his mother leaving his father’s side to kneel before him. “You’re father said you’re leaving?"

Kaidan didn’t miss how her eyes caught on the backpack, his warm clothes, Jeff snuggled under his arm. He’d had to take him out of the backpack, needing him close by.

"Yes,” he answered in a small voice.

“Well, you can’t go without some hot chocolate first, yes? With whipped cream and chocolate shavings?"

Eyes alight with joy, Kaidan nodded emphatically. He was starting to feel better.

Grace smiled, "Maybe a few cookies?"

At the mention of cookies, he felt guilty again. He’d taken some for his backpack. A shrug was his only answer, head bent towards the ground, unable to look his mother in the eye.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, she urged him into the house and Kaidan complied, not sure if he even deserved the treats anymore. After all, he’d lied to his parents and then planned on leaving.

His father eased the backpack off his shoulders and hoisted him into a chair at the breakfast bar before joining his wife in the kitchen. They maneuvered around each other effortlessly, almost like they were dancing. Kaidan was amazed. He always felt like he was in the way, though his mother never said so when they worked together in the kitchen.

Soon, the wonderful smell of hot chocolate filled the air along with pumpkin cinnamon cookies. His favorite. They were even better than chocolate chip.

His mother placed three mugs side by side, the one in front of him topped with a big swirl of whipped cream. Kaidan didn’t think he’d ever seen her give him so much. Nearly bouncing in his seat, he grabbed the mug and took a sip and then licked his lips.

He turned to look at his father, who laughed when he saw his son. “You have a moustache…a white one.”

“I do?” He crossed his eyes as he looked down, trying to see it. Both parents laughed out loud.

“Ah, baobai, you can’t see it yourself. Here, look now.” She held the shiny toaster up to his face.

He grinned at his warped reflection…and the white, creamy moustache he now had. Looking back at his father, excitement in his voice, he exclaimed, “I have a moustache, Poppa! Just like you!”

Alek laughed at his son’s enthusiasm. “You do indeed, though yours is white and mine isn’t. Yet, anyway.”

Grace caught his eye and he nodded subtly, so she added some whipped cream to his cup as well. He took a drink and turned to his son who watched him avidly. Kaidan erupted in laughter, little hands clapping together, upon seeing his father’s dark moustache covered in white foam. One hand reached out and swiped through the whipped cream, smiling at the darker hair beneath it.

“Now it’s white, Poppa.”

His mother sat down on the other side of him and together, they all ate cookies and drank hot chocolate. Time passed outside, the sun lighting the room up in a cozy, orange glow. Darkness was falling quickly and Kaidan’s eyes started drooping.

“Are you ready to go now, baobai?”

Setting a half eaten cookie down, he asked her, “Go where?”

Biting back a smile, Grace reminded him, “You were packed and ready to leave.”

Focusing on his cookie, Kaidan twisted it on his plate, “Oh…yeah.” The cookie became nothing more than crumbles as he played with it.

Alek put a hand on his son’s back, rubbing up and down. “Want to talk about it?”

Kaidan continued to play with the cookie before blurting out, “William doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” His lower lip quivered and a tear slowly tracked down his face. “He said he had a…a new…f-friend. Why can’t we all be friends?”

The tears started in earnest, though Kaidan barely made a sound except an occasional sniffle. Both of his parents wrapped him in a hug, Grace wiping away the tears and planting a kiss on one chubby cheek.

“Oh baobai, my heart, my boy…I’m so sorry you lost your friend.” She placed a hand over his heart, “I know it hurts very much, right here.”

Alek reassured him, hoping his words made sense to such a young mind, “Son, the hurt will heal in time. Someday, you’ll share laughter, adventures, loss and pain with special people who come into your life. That’s when you’ll know who your true friends are. There will be many Williams growing up but trust me, those who remain by your side no matter what…those friends you’ll keep close to your heart.”

Once again, Kaidan wiped his nose on his sleeve, his mom tsking him before getting up and handing him a tissue. Blowing into it, he looked up at his father, eyes wet and shiny with unshed tears. “But…what about William? I want him to still be my friend.”

His father held him close, “I know, son, I know. However, you can’t make people be your friend. It just doesn’t work that way. Continue to treat William with the same kindness you always have. That’s the best you can do. Just remember to always be yourself and never do anything for anyone to make them like you.”

Voice muffled with his head snuggled into his father’s side, he answered, “Okay, Poppa.”

“It’ll still hurt but I promise it will get better.” Alek pulled away from his son. “You ready to go now?”

Kaidan looked outside, “C-can I stay until morning?”

Grace moved up beside Alek and her son, “Of course you can. We can tuck you in if you’d like.”

He appeared to consider it before nodding his head in agreement. Taking his mother’s hand, he hopped down and followed her to his room, his father close behind. Eyes droopy, he was nearly sleep walking. Alek reached down to pick him up and carry him up the stairs to his bedroom.

They helped him into his pajamas and waited while he climbed into bed. Alek leaned down and kissed the thick, dark curls before straightening up. At bedtime, Kaidan preferred his mother to stay with him and read a story.

“Goodnight, son. Sleep well and we’ll help see you off in the morning.”

As he turned to leave, he saw a piece of paper with a child’s scrawled writing in blue crayon. He grabbed it on his way out, knowing it wasn’t needed anymore. Before he left the room, Kaidan bolted upright in bed, eyes wide and fearful.

“Jeff! Where’s Jeff?” he cried out.

“I bet he’s still downstairs. I’ll go get him.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Poppa will get Jeff for you and you can sleep with him by your side.” He relaxed and nodded. “You really like Jeff, don’t you?” He nodded again. “Would you say Jeff is your friend?”

Kaidan appeared to think about that for a few minutes before saying, “He is. I talk to him and he listens. He goes with me everywhere. Jeff even plays music to me when I can’t sleep.”

“That’s right. He’s a really good friend, isn’t he?”

Smiling sleepily, he nodded, “He’s my best friend.”

Alek came back with Jeff and handed him to Grace who wound him up, Brahms Lullaby playing softly throughout the room. She tucked him next to Kaidan, covering them both with the big, blue blanket covered in a space theme. Sitting gently on the bed, she tucked a stray curl of hair behind his ear, then rubbed one finger around the shell of his ear gently, over and over. Soon, he was asleep.

She moved to stand beside Alek, each wrapping an arm around the other. They stood there, looking at their beautiful boy, a kind and gentle soul who was always trying to do the right thing. Every day they were grateful to have him in their lives.

Startling them both, Kaidan spoke up, voice laden with sleep, “Momma, Poppa…I think I don’t want to run away anymore. I want to stay here at home. I love you.”

Grace placed a hand over her mouth, a tear slipping silently down her face. Alek laid his head gently against hers, squeezing her close to him. Quietly, they slipped out of their son’s room, his Mars night light glowing softly. It looked like disaster had been averted and he was here to stay.

“We love you, too, Kaidan.”

#kaidanweek2019 #Kaidan Alenko #spectrekaidanalenko #pre-Normandy

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sam-i-am-27 · 6 years

Text

Dive Right In

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Summary: Roman wants to know what in the hell happened last night with that strange half-mer, half-human. Fortunately, so does Patton. As does the halfling and his human friend. Unfortunately, one uninvited person wants to know more as well.

Word Count: 2550

Thank you to @pastel-and-gore for being a loverly editor as always and making this 100% better than it was when I first spewed it out onto a Google Doc!

Roman didn’t know what he should do but sit there in the cave. He didn’t know what was coming out of his mouth, random incoherent sounds or the actual Song. That was… impossible. He had just watched a mer save another human and then become one himself?! The scales literally melted off of him and he had legs! That didn’t just happen! It couldn’t have happened!

“AGH!” he yelled randomly, his voice echoing around the cave, the enchanting magic in his voice making his own mind go fuzzy with lust.

So he came in contact with… one and a half humans? One was unconscious, the other half was a mer a majority of the time Roman had been talking to him… so was it illegal? Nah, it wasn’t illegal. He was fine… but there was still that nagging at his subconsciousness. It wasn’t worry or fear, it was curiosity. He wanted to know more about that half-mer. How did a half-mer even exist if mers weren’t even allowed to talk to humans?! How was he able to resist the Song when neither mers nor humans could?!

There were so many questions that Roman wished he had a quill, some ink, and a few hundred feet of parchment. He could ask them to Thomas-

No, he couldn’t know. If Thomas knew, no matter how close the two of them were, he’d be forced to uphold the law and imprison Roman. Then he and the royal Alchemist would go hunting for Virgil to wipe his memory of the experience.

He had to talk to someone who could keep a secret for reasons like protecting him and someone else from the King’s laws.

The instant the sun rose over the horizon and Roman no longer felt the pull of the moon’s magic, he shot towards the kingdom as fast as his tail would carry him. The sea turned into a white blur of bubbles and sea foam as he sped past coral reefs, over deep trenches until he reached the entrance of the kingdom. He sped through the dark and once through the tunnel, sped through the kingdom as fast as possible without completely speeding.

Roman reached the front gate and slowed down in front of his father. He saw eyes with a burning rage and hate of a thousands suns shining through the helmet.

“Roman. What brings you here again so soon?” his father asked. “I hoped you’d be gone-”

“Save me the insults, father. I need to see Patton,” Roman croaked. Instantly, Roman knew he had come back just a bit too early. Although the moon had stopped its spell almost an hour ago, he could feel his vocal cords vibrating with the magic that drew that human to him. Not enough to be deadly, but definitely enough that his father’s eyes lost all sense of hatred and his body slackened.

“Go right ahead, don’t let me stop you, Jules,” he said in a dream-like voice. Roman grit his teeth at the name but swam on inside without second thought. Of course his father would call him that; the only Siren voice he had known was his mothers and since she passed, he hadn’t heard any others.

He swam through the castle silently, giving only nods to the guards who greeted him before he reached Patton’s room and knocked on the door.

“Mmm… who’s there?” Patton mumbled from the inside. Roman just continued to knock, unable to say anything without entrancing every mer in the very echoey hallway for the next ten minutes.

“Coming, coming.” The sound of shuffling came through the door and when it opened, Roman had to muffle any sound he made at the sight of Patton. A blanket haphazardly slung over his shoulders, his glasses on upside-down, and his hair floating around at odd angles. He smacked his lips and looked at Roman through bleary eyes.

“Oh hi, Roman. You’re home early,” he muttered, turning around when Roman was half-way in the room. He rummaged around the messy desk, around all of the toys from their childhood before finding an old scroll and pen. As he scribbled down his note, Patton groaned. “Aw, I liked that scroll.”

Roman shoved the scroll into Patton’s arms and quickly swam to close the door so Patton didn’t read the news to the entire castle. Patton sighed and pushed his glasses down and off his nose. He sighed, grabbed them and put them back on to read the scroll.

“I met a hu-” Suddenly Patton was wide awake, looking at Roman with wide, excited eyes. “Is it okay?!”

Roman nodded and took the scroll back, scribbling down another note.

Patton read it and scowled slightly. “He… he grew a… how did he grow a tail… what?!”

Roman nodded in agreement, pointing to his throat and mimicking singing.

“He survived your singing?! But even we can’t do that!” Patton exclaimed. “Oh, I wanna meet him!”

Roman mimed in a way that hopefully said, ‘I think we can!’

“We need to go back up there… tomorrow night. You need to rest but we NEED to see him!” Patton said, pacing the room slowly. Roman noticed that his face suddenly fell and he became a bit serious, the excited twinkle in his eyes dimming. “He can become a mer in the water but has legs out… I wonder if he’s like those illegal half-mers? If he is, you didn’t technically break the law since half-mers haven’t been seen in, what, hundred years or so?”

Roman shook his head, but then thought about the situation and shrugged. It was possible but they couldn’t be sure unless they went back up and talked to him.

“So we go back up there tonight and see if he’s there?” Patton asked, looking Roman in the eyes, the excited look returning again. Roman gave a cocky grin and gave his friend a thumbs up.

“I really wish we had a fire,” Logan said, wrapping his blanket around him even tighter.

“Well it’s illegal to burn at the moment and you wanted to come. I don’t blame you for being curious,” Virgil argued, fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie.

“Yes, I am curious, Virgil. You grew fins in my bathtub. Your legs fused together and you grew gills, a tail, and fins,” Logan retorted. “If you had almost drowned and got mild hypothermia, you’d want to know the reason why. Plus on top of that, you’d want to know the reason why your best friend keeps saying that while he was saving you, he grew a tail and met a merman who spoke clear English. I’d say I came out of more than a little curiosity.”

“Alright, alright, just teasing,” Virgil said, inching towards the water slightly. “Want some jam?”

“Of course,” Logan said, reaching into the cooler and pulling out a jar of Crofters and spoon.

“Still don’t know how you eat that plain,” Virgil said, reaching over with a cracker and scooping some onto it.

“Ish delicioush,” Logan said through a mouthful of jam.

“You don’t say,” Virgil said, wiping cracker crumbs and jam off his face. He looked out at the ocean and sighed. The sun was nearly set, making the water turn a beautiful purple-blue-orange color. The waves were rolling up onto the sand slowly and the foam was lapping up closer and closer as the tide rose.

“I’m going to stick my feet in,” Virgil said. “I kinda wanna see how far in I have to go for there to be a reaction.”

Logan finished his last bite of jam and nodded. “Great idea.”

The two stripped down to their swim trunks, Virgil keeping his tank top on, and scooted to the water’s edge, not really wanting to walk the five feet.

“Alright… these are just my feet in the salt water.” Virgil took a breath and stuck his feet into the water, shivering at the low temperature. Instantly tingles shot through his toes and up to his ankles. The slime that had formed his tail last time formed around his feet, shaping into a large colorless mass of a half-formed fin. The tingles were still there, as if they knew he was in salt water and wanted to expand outwards and form the entire tail, but they stopped just below the ankle where the fin melded into skin.

“Fascinating. It seems that if you have the saltwater in one place, that’s the place that gets transformed. It’s like a sponge that’s absorbing water for the first time,” Logan said and splashed a little on Virgil’s upper thigh. A new set of tingles appeared there and wherever the water droplets hit, slim began to envelop his skin.

“I really don’t like the look of that,” he said. “I’m just gonna get in a bit more. Slowly though, it’s really cold.”

He crept in until the water was just below his knees. By this point, the slime had fused his calves together, formed the shape of his tail completely and created the outline of where his scales would appear. He could feel a slight pain in his neck as his gills began to open up.

“Do you think I have to be all the way in for color to appear?” he asked Logan.

“We have to test to find out for sure, but I say most likely,” Logan said, not taking his eyes off what was left of his legs.

Virgil nodded, took a deep breath, and slid his entire body under the next wave. The tingles shot up his legs faster than he could blink, the slime enveloping and fusing his legs instantly, tearing through his shorts and forming every individual scale. His gills opened up and took in as much salt water as they could, extracting the oxygen so Virgil could breathe. By the time the wave had passed over him, his tail had formed and he looked like a regular merman, color and all.

“Okay… so yeah. Figured out how all that works,” he muttered, flicking his tail fin and splashing Logan in the face.

“It appears that a single drop of water will not inconvenience you but diving in will,” Logan muttered, cleaning off his glasses with one hand and pulling out yet another one of his scales with the other.

“Ow! Dammit, Lo!” he complained, rubbing the spot. Logan ignored him and blew on the scale until it was dry, groaning a little as a small amount of slime fell off it, leaving only a bit of Virgil’s skin.

“Gross,” his friend muttered but than dunked the skin into the water. Instantly, the slime reformed and he was holding a purple scale again.

“It doesn't matter what part of you touches the water as long as it’s you,” Logan muttered. “Absolutely fascinating.”

Virgil shrugged and looked out at the water again. The sun had completely set, leaving only a dark ocean reflecting the few stars that had been revealed without sunlight. He sighed and scooted sand.

“Hey, Lo, I'll be right back, I'm going to go check something out,” Virgil said.

“Uh huh,” Logan said, drying off the scale again and sinking it into the water. Virgil smirked and dove in. The water froze his bones for a second before his body warmed up at an impossible speed. Probably another mer thing… better tell Logan when he got back.

Breathing was such a strange experience. He did it involuntarily but it was so… forced. He felt like there was a pillow over his face but he could breathe. His gills allowed him to take oxygen from the water and let him live but still… it felt strange, like breathing after eating a piece of minty gum. But more salty.

Virgil’s tail was a miracle of nature. Powerful and lithe, it sped him through the water faster than any boat could ever hope to go. Virgil felt like a living boat, the way he could turn and twist however he wanted without losing speed or sight of where he was. But he tried to not be theatrical and focused on finding the spot where Logan had swam to the night before.

He slowed down near the cliff and surfaced, his gills flapping uselessly in the air.

“Weird,” he muttered and looked around. Definitely the place where Logan had dove. He looked around him, not seeing anything interesting on the surface of the water, so he ducked under and swam deepe, keeping close to the cliff face. He must have been few dozen feet underwater but he didn’t feel a thing on his ears or his body. He could see clearer down here than he could on land… Even more mer stuff to jot down when he had a piece of dry paper.

The sandy bottom of the ocean appeared below him and with it a large cave. He swam in and asked, “Hello?” the words coming with a small stream of bubbles. There was no response though so he swam a little farther into the cave. “Roman? You there?”

“Over here.”

He turned and saw Roman sitting near the entrance of the cave with another mer, this one with a bright blue coloring with black stripes going up and down his tail. At the sight of Virgil, he squealed and swam forward. His blue eyes gleamed behind a pair of slightly cracked glasses that he had to constantly push up his nose as he smiled at Virgil. Although Virgil was slightly creeped out by the fact that a random mer was smiling at him, he was a little comforted by the fact that he was keeping himself at a comfortable distance and watching his body carefully for any signs of uncomfort.

“You’re Virgil! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you! You’re half-human, right? Oh, the human world must be amazing and-”

“Patton, calm down,” Roman said, putting a hand on the other mer’s shoulder.

“What does he mean he knows a lot about me?” Virgil asked. “I said five words to you.”

“Well we may have done a little reading between the lines and figured out how your existence may be possible and all that,” Roman said with a shrug. “Half-mers are illegal to us, so you’re a criminal so we just-”

“You know what, I’d love to hear this story, but so would my friend on the beach,” Virgil interrupted. “Besides, I don’t like the feeling of breathing water.”

“Your friend is a human, isn’t he?” Patton asked.

“No, he’s a unicorn,” Virgil said in a monotone. “Come on. He’ll be thrilled to meet you guys.”

Deep below the sea, a figure stood floating around a single golden orb, watching as the two-and-a-half mers swam out of the cave towards the human on the beach. The mer smiled maliciously and held up a single glowing finger, tracing it around the orb. The one with the purple tail stopped for a moment, shook his head and continued towards the beach.

“Perfect…”

They swam away from the orb and began to pull ingredients off the shelf, preparing a potion. There wasn’t any doubt that he would need it. Now that the halfling had the idea, he’d be down here with one of the others soon… it was only a matter of time…

Yes, it’s been a while. Just lost motivation but it came running back at the speed of sound just two days ago and I got this chapter finished! So yeah, you guys can probably guess a few things now but I really hope that you don’t know what’s going to happen because this is a great story that I am really excited to finish.

But yeah, I’m continuing this!

Reblogs are amazing.

Taglist for general and Dive Right In are both open, so all you need to do is ask!

Have a great day!

Taglist: @octopushugs @ryuity @fandergecko @rileyfirstname @spectacled-renegade @ijustreallylovesanderssides @redqueen29 @fire-flies-and-pattons-eyes @teaspoonfulofpatton @beneath-the-ash @thesynysterunknown @nightmarejasmine @i-like-cookiez @savemefrompainfulagony @randomfanderfriend @kingbumbles @spaceacesam @anxietywolf @enderperson43 @collie7700 @sassyshoulderangel319 @abigail-kaulitz

#Sanders Sides #Logan Sanders #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Thomas Sanders #Fan Fiction #AU #Mermaid AU #Dive Right In #Rogue Writes

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writerofweird · 6 years

Text

Eliza Gets Real (At4W kinda-creepypasta)

(Slight spoilers for At4W’s recent holiday arc)

So my fifth birthday was the best one yet, not that that's saying much. A promise of a jacket, a cupcake with a candle in it and the defeat of a malevolent spirit was certainly better than lying on your foam belly for hours on end, pondering on life and being.

I rarely ever got birthday or Christmas presents, and I've wondered if that was because I was a Christmas present. I always have been. Though I had a birthday, I wasn't really born, I never hatched from an egg, I was constructed and then later given sentience so I could be a Christmas gift. Yes, you read that right.

I'm only five years old, but I know far too much. I can fix robots, I know about the great taste of coffee, and I suppose I knew I was a weird creature from the get-go. Sometimes I would entertain the notion that there were others like me out there, other living foam lizards, but I knew I was just supposed to be a representation of something, not the actual thing itself. I had no tongue to stick out, I couldn't open my mouth to eat bugs, I wasn't cold-blooded because I had no blood.

I had thought so long about that, especially after that certain incident. I suppose that's why I was so hurt about those words; they reminded me that I was supposed to be fake. I was supposed to be a thing.

And that's why this one present initially felt to me like an insult.

The night after the incident with the ghost, I retired to bed - a little shoebox on a table next to a coffee cup - only to feel a burst of energy when I saw a wrapped present there with a label reading "Happy Birthday Eliza". I tore open the wrapping paper as quickly as my stubby foam limbs could, and was greeted by a copy of The Velveteen Rabbit.

I had heard about that story. A toy with sentience, just like me, only the story ends with him becoming an organic creature. Though I had come to the conclusion that life around here would still be weird if I were alive, there were times I had wondered what it would be like if I were a real lizard, or even a human being. I wondered if anyone else knew.

There was a note on the cover: "You're real to us" which softened the sting. I understood what everyone was trying to do, at least I thought I did. They were trying to tell me that I was "real" in the sense I was part of their family, and this book was supposed to be a metaphor about my life. With that in mind, I opened the book and read.

I must admit a, what do you call it, "big mood" when I read the first pages. The Velveteen Rabbit was a Christmas gift, and was frequently ignored. Who does that sound like? I read on, about the rabbit becoming beloved, meeting the creatures he was an imitation of and just when I was reaching the end...

I came face to face with the Rabbit.

I turned a page and suddenly, one page was not made of paper, but flesh. A sheet of skin, with half a furless rabbit trying to escape out of it. A naked rabbit with eyes seemingly popping out of its sockets, two yellow buck teeth that reminded me of fenceposts, and thin arms with thin claws that shook around when it was revealed.

Before I could run away, it grabbed me and held me tightly. As much as I struggled against its grasp, it was no use, and all that came from my struggling was my sunglasses falling off.

The rabbit stuffed me into its mouth.

As much as I wanted to escape, I was completely paralysed as acid seemed to fill my body, my every limb stinging harshly. It felt like worms had entered my body and were stretching and inflating. The stick that came out of my back, my spine, shrunk and grew at the same time. I could feel it shrivelling away, yet I also felt it dominating my whole body. My head felt like it was being torn in two, in fact, my whole body felt like it was being torn apart and put back together again.

The rabbit spat me out, right next to my sunglasses.

I reached to pick them up with my claws, then I noticed I had claws.

Where there were once little stubs of foam were what resembled miniature human hands, covered in purple scales that glistened in the light, claws at the ends of each finger. Looking down, I saw I was standing on my hind legs, those hind legs were also covered in scales and my feet had toes and claws.

I placed my hand on my chest. I heard thumping.

Immediately, I looked for the closest reflective surface I could find, and found it in the mug which I had guzzled coffee out of. When I looked at the mug, a real lizard stared back at me.

I laughed, and I swore a tear rolled down my scaly cheek as I looked at my hands again. All those years of wondering what I was, all those years of attempting to comprehend my existence, I had found the solution. Despite what I had told the Ninja Style Dancer, I felt closer to the world than ever before. As I looked in the mirror mug, I smiled, I frowned, I stuck out my newly-formed tongue - I can't even describe how the air tasted - I even picked my nose.

It was truly my birthday. Eliza the Foam Lizard was dead and Eliza the Real Lizard was born in her place.

Any attempt on my brain's part to rationalise this was drowned out with "I'M REAL I'M REAL I'M REAL" and so I said to no-one in particular, 'Let's take this out for a test drive.' I still could talk, and at the time, that seemed the strangest thing about my new form. I didn't dwell on it, however, as I was too focused on drinking the leftover coffee in the cup I saw my reflection in. The coffee would be cold, but I had to experience taste now that I had a tongue.

I placed my claws on the edge of the cup and dipped my head in as far as I could, licking up the cooled coffee. As I tried to sit down, I accidentally made the cup fall over, spilling coffee all over me. As I lay on the table, I looked at how the coffee brought out my new scales and then laughed, even flapping my limbs to make a "coffee angel".

Still feeling like I needed to test my taste, I hopped off the table, and went to hunt like the animal I had become. Not for living prey, but for my birthday cupcake which had gone uneaten. I crept around the floor, looking around every corner, sticking out my tongue as I did so. When I saw my prize, I crawled up onto the tabletop before ripping off the clingfilm with my claws. From the cupcake, I grabbed a massive lump of it and stuffed it into my mouth, chewing slowly, relishing the flavour. It seemed to cleanse my very insides.

After I swallowed, I lay eyes on a nearby knife. I looked at it, then back at my tail and thought, 'What the heck?' I kicked the knife down onto the floor before jumping off and grabbing the knife. 'Guys, guys!' I cried, 'Cut off my tail! See if it grows back!'

Someone did respond to my calls.

A big colourless rooster.

Even in a setting known for a number of surreal occurrences, the appearance of the rooster with his hypnotic head-bobbing as he walked seemed to have come from a dream. Even then, I knew who he was.

'Pollo?'

'Eliza,' he said, in a less tinny version of his regular voice, 'I've been looking for you. Oh good, you came armed.'

'So...'

'I don't like this, Eliza. This thing that converted me and you to these organic forms must be stopped.'

'Why?'

'As you can see, it didn't stop with just you. What it did can be undone with its death...'

'But why?' I repeated, 'Why would you want to undo this?' I gestured towards my new form, tears again welling up in my eyes. 'I've never been so happy...I...I feel more like I belong!'

'Do they?' Pollo pointed with his wing towards a number of comic books, or at least what used to be comic books.

They all resembled that certain page in The Velveteen Rabbit; blocks of flesh with heads and bodies attempting to escape. The heads and bodies of superheroes, fused with their costumes. I saw several Batman heads with empty eyes and pointed ears. Tattooed heads with no face other than two large eyes, Spider-men brought to life. Several comic books made of flesh, controlled by pseudo-superheroes, crawling on the floor through whatever limbs they had poking through the page.

All of them screaming and moaning.

All of them approaching us.

'We at least had the luxury of sentience before our conversion, Eliza,' explained Pollo, 'these things only have the vaguest idea of what they're supposed to be. What they do know, however, is pain, because that's what their existence is.'

It was then it hit me. What that creature from that book did. Imagining the transformation those comic books went through, and remembering that I was foam turned into flesh and blood and bone and scales and muscles and organs, made me release my coffee and birthday cupcake onto the floor.

All of the hero-heads clenched their teeth in anger, attempting to grab onto me. I shuddered, holding the knife towards them right before my tail actually fell off my body. That was when I decided to run, letting the living comic books focus on what I had shed. Without my tail though, I felt a lack of balance and stumbled to-and-fro, crashing straight into a wall. 'No...'

'Eliza,' said Pollo, running up to me as he flapped his wings, 'find the book creature and kill it.'

'I can't...'

Pollo sighed. 'Ironic that it's after you become a "real girl" I have to be your Jiminy Cricket. Those comic books are in extreme pain; returning them to their former state would be a mercy.'

I couldn't help but tremble, biting my lip. What seemed like a release after years of doubt and uncertainly now felt like it would turn my new stomach inside out. My hold on the knife tightened.

There was so much to do though. So much that had been kept from me in my foam state. After what I had seen, I still wanted to feel the sun against my back, to feel water around my ankles, to taste more food and guzzle down more drink.

'The more the creature converts, the more powerful it becomes. When it becomes more powerful...well, if it can turn inorganic things into organic animals, what do you think it does to born organic beings?'

That's what got me back on my feet, attempting to navigate the halls despite the loss of balance I felt, which led to a lot of notches in the walls. The plastic flies I saw on the ground only made me move faster.

I saw the Rabbit, looking for human victims.

'Hey!' I cried, and it turned towards me, showing off its blank eyes and yellowed teeth and bent whiskers. 'How's this for a magic fairy kiss?' I cried as I plunged the knife into its skull.

It let loose a scream that stung my eardrums, and that was the last thing I felt as a real lizard.

In the apparent blink of an eye, Pollo was once again a robot, the comic books were again comic books, I heard a fly buzz away and I...easy come, easy go. At least my tail was restored in the transformation.

'It was nice while it lasted,' I said to Pollo as I hopped towards him, 'thanks for the help.'

Pollo then explained how he knew killing the rabbit would restore us, and that was that he learned it from he who had gave me that book. The creepy guy in the top hat, who apparently gifted me that book because he thought I'd be happier organic. I suppose I had to appreciate that at least.

That said, I'm certain if given another chance to be real, I would refuse point blank. I may not have a stomach anymore, but remembering this incident still makes me feel like vomiting.

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evanstanwrites · 6 years

Text

The fantasy - Chris Evans - Smut

pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

warning: Smut !!!! Sub! Chris, Dom! Reader, the pornstach, oral, handjob, orgasm denial, unprotected sex

a/n: I’ve written this with the wonderfull @pawfect-melody

masterlist

It was late afternoon and I was just getting my overnight bag packed and ready to go. In the background the tv was playing and the interview Chris had done a few days before. He was on late night with Seth Meyers, and of course the first topic was Chris’ mustache.

“This mustache and haircut I feel like gives us a lot of backstory about who you are.” The host joked.

“What would I be? It’s either a cop or what else would I be?” Chris answered

You didn’t need to know Chris that well to hear the suggestion underlying in his tone.

Chris and I were already together for more than a year but still I lived in my own apartment. So, every chance we got I went over to him. He just got home from finishing all the shows of Lobby hero and texted as soon as he got home asking to come over.

“A guy who tried to be a cop and failed the test and is super mad about it.”

“See I was gonna say something along the lines of porn.” Chris tried to joke which made everybody in the audience laugh. But I knew very well it wasn’t a real joke. He was deadly serious.

I zipped my bag and made my way through my apartment locking everything up, before closing the front door, locking it and walking to my car. It was only a small ride to Chris’ place just outside Boston.

I came here a lot when Chris was away to make sure everything was well kept for him, he had given me the code to open the gate and a key to his front door. So, once I arrived I just let myself in without ringing the doorbell, I tried to be as silent as I could to surprise Chris but that plan soon fell into the water when Dodger came running down the hall and greeted me with a joyful bark.

“y/n? is that you babe?” Chris yelled from upstairs.

“yes, it’s me. Where are you?”

“In the bathroom, getting this awful pornstach off my upper lip.”

“What? No wait!” I yelled back as quick as I could while running up the stairs.

He wasn’t getting rid of it before I had my fun with it. It may be a weird sight but it was a sight that did something to me.

Once I reached his master bedroom I saw him through the open bathroom door, razor in one hand and in his other his shaving foam.

“Drop that now!” I almost yelled at him

Without thinking he dropped it like it burned his hand and it fell onto the counter with a clatter.

“what the hell babe? What’s that for?”

“well I thought since you look like a porn star with that stach, we might as well take advantage of it and recreate our own porn.” I try to sound as suggestive as I possibly can while batting my eyelashes at him.

His eyes immediately turn a shade darker and a big grin comes up around his lips.

“so, you want me to fuck you when I still look like a porn star?”

“No baby boy I wanna see you on your knees in front of me, putting that pornstach to good use between my thighs. I want you to beg me to fuck you.” I say with a voice so raspy I didn’t even recognize it myself. Chris’ first reaction is to smile and take a step closer to where I stand.

“you want me to play your little slave, go by your demand, like I asked you to do a few months ago? What makes you think I want to?” Chris smirked.

He was testing me, seeing how far I would go with this.

“KNEEL! And don’t make me have to ask twice.” My tone shocked us both but as soon as the words had left my mouth Chris’ smile left his face to make room for a more serious contrite expression and soon he kneeled in front of me. Both his hands resting palm upwards on his sweatpants clad thighs, his head bent and a look of utter contentment on his handsome face.

“that’s a good baby boy. We are gonna play a bit, let me tell you the rules. You’ll address me as ma’am, only talk to me when I ask you a question. You’ll do exactly as I say and I’ll reward you. You won’t touch yourself without me telling you to do so. If it all gets too much you say red and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing. Is that clear baby boy?”

“Yes ma’am” he answers falling directly into his role.

“good boy, now be a gentleman and help me get out of these clothes.”

He slowly lifts a shaking hand towards the waist band of my black fitted skirt. ‘tsk tsk’ I muttered ‘shoes come off before you get to the good stuff you impatient boy’

Chris removes my clothing layer by layer till I’m left standing in only my blood red lace panties his breathing becoming more ragged the more of me he reveals.

‘Good, now let’s take this to the bedroom so we can properly play. Chris goes to stand from his position on the floor when I quickly put my hand to his shoulder ‘No, you’ll crawl until you’ve earn the privilege to walk’.

On our way to the bed I grab mine and Chris’ bag of toys setting it on the bed side table and slowly removing what I needed. Sitting on the edge of the bed I face a squirming Chris.

‘Now, stand up and slowly remove your clothes and then put your hands behind your back’

Chris immediately moved to comply with my request.

‘Good boy, turn around let me get a look at that fine ass of yours’

Smirking Chris turns and attempts a sultry wiggle, earning him a sharp hand on his right butt cheek, leading to a gasp from Chris. Soothing the sting with my palm I shh him and tell him to clasp his hands again. Pulling them towards me and securing them with a knot using my favorite red rope Chris originally got to use on me. I once again get Chris on his knees between my spread legs.

“Well baby boy, what are you waiting for? Get your dinner warmed up.” I whisper to him but loud enough for him to hear. Of course, I knew he had to remove my panties with his teeth or he had to work over them since his hands where bound behind his back.

He simply just started with kissing up the inside of my thigh getting higher and closer with every kiss he placed to where I needed him the most. He was teasing me.

Feeling the hot air that came out of his nose with every breath he took on my growing wetter pussy. Chris was always good at foreplay, damn he could make me wet by a single look or touch.

My first moan left my lips when I felt him scrape his teeth over the soft skin, the hairs on his upper lip tickling me and then placing his mouth over the spot sucking it. That would definitely leave a mark.

“Oh, what a good boy for me. But I need that mouth and tongue on my pussy.”

I pushed him backwards by his shoulders earning me a view of his dark puppy dog eyes. You could see by the look he was giving me he was confused, wondering if he did something wrong.

“Don’t look like that baby boy, I’m making it easier for you. You can’t eat me out when I still have my panties on, can you?”

Chris just shook his head.

“Words baby boy, I asked you something.”

“Yes ma’am, you’re right.”

“Good boy.”

Standing up from the bed I quickly pushed my panties off my legs and threw them over Chris’ shoulder, but instead of the soft sound the fabric would make landing on the floor we were met with a small whimper. When I looked over Chris’ shoulder I saw Dodger sitting by the open bedroom door with my blood red panties hanging from his ear.

My god, how long was that dog sitting there for?

“My god Dodger! Out boy!” I almost yelled at the poor dog.

He shook his head which made the panties fall to the ground and he bolted out the door.

Both Chris and I started to burst out laughing.

“Omg I hope it didn’t kill the mood?” I asked a little concerned.

“No it didn’t babe, let’s continue this. Let me eat you out so good darling.” He almost moaned out.

“Well baby boy get to work then. But I’m gonna need to teach you a lesson about how you address me. I think I asked you to call me ma’am.” I say while taking a seat on the edge of the bed and opening my legs so Chris could take his place between them again.

“I’m sorry ma’am” he muttered right before he buried his head between my legs.

He started with light kisses from my pubic mound to my already wet folds.

Diving tongue first between them, liking from my entrance to my clit in one smooth stroke. Barely being able to hold back a moan I weave my fingers into his short hair. Just when his lips close around my bundle of nerves I try to pull on the few hairs I can get a grip on at the back of his head, which make him groan. The vibrations of the sound he makes only adds more to the building orgasm, damn I’m already so close. I know I won’t last that long. I can feel my muscles tense, a warning my orgasm is close.

“oh… baby boy…. Don’t stop… I’m close.” I moaned out.

That only made him work harder, altering between sucking and liking my clit, knowing it was the fastest way to get me off.

He glanced up at me and locked eyes with me, it was his eyes filled with love and lust that pulled me over the edge falling head first in a mind-blowing orgasm and screaming his name over and over. Chris just lapped up everything I had to give him. When my cunt became too sensitive I pushed Chris away with my foot against his shoulder and he quickly sat back on his knees.

“fuck that was amazing baby boy. But I think it’s time for you to get your punishment for all that teasing you did last week.” I tell him once I catch my breath.

I got up from the bed and walked around Chris’ broad naked body and standing behind him.

“Stand up for me baby boy.” I whispered in his ear and he complied without hesitation and I walked back in front of him. Scanning my eyes over his toned body that was covered in a layer of sweat. A single drop of sweat rolled from his neck over his clavicle tattoo, over his toned abs straight to those v shape lines and ending at the base of his already rock hard cock. It was one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen.

“look at you baby boy, looking like a real porn star, looking so fucking hot.” I said while taking his cock in my hand and slowly stroking him. Chris let out a moan as soon as I touched him, closing his eyes.

“Oh no baby, eyes on me or I’ll stop.”

Immediately his eyes shot open and locked on mine.

“good boy, tell me when you get close.”

Before giving him time to react I started to massage his balls with my free hand. Which earned me a deep moan from him. Stroking a little faster up and down his thick shaft and occasionally running my thumb over the tip of his cock. He only moaned and groaned louder and louder.

“please ma’am, please.” He whimpered

“what do you need baby boy? Tell me.”

“please let me cum.”

“you’re close baby ? You need to cum?”

“yes please, please let me cum.” He begged

Just as I felt his cock twitch in my hand I knew he could blow any minute so I let go of his cock and stepped away from him which made him whine.

“Oh baby boy, I told you this is a punishment.” I explained while untying his hands.

“go lay on the bed face down and hands above your head.”

A look of confusion crossed Chris’s face but he still moved and placed himself in the requested position.

Once he layed down I straddled his thighs, tied his hands to the headboard of the bed with the rope and then started to massage his ass cheeks with both my hands.

“count to five baby boy.”

Chris visibly tensed but soon relaxed again after feeling the first sting of the contact my hand made with his butt cheek.

“one” he moaned out to his own surprise.

As soon as it left his mouth I rubbed the spot I smacked.

“good boy, only four to go. You’re doing so well baby boy.” I praised him.

The next four slaps went similar, after every slap he moaned out the number and the I would soothingly rub the spot, making him even louder.

“you can turn on your back now baby boy, I think you earned your reward.”

Chris gingerly turn over onto his stinging ass. His cock standing to attention the head red and angry. I once again straddled his thighs moving back slightly and giving him a devilish smile. ‘Now, I’m going to put this beautiful cock in my warm mouth, but no coming do you understand’

Chris whined earning him a smack to his thigh ‘yes ma’am’

Slowly I lowered my head taking him fully into my mouth without warning causing a guttural moan to leave his lips enticing out my own moan. As I withdrew my mouth from him I made sure to swirl my tongue around his head and through his slit making him throb. I quickly took my mouth off a panting Chris and moved up his thighs positioning myself over his glistening cock. ‘Please, please, please ma’am untie my hands I want to touch you’

‘Shh baby boy, I’ll make you feel good I promise’

Lowering myself down I can feel the stretch as he fills me, continuing down until I’m firmly seated, his leg hairs rubbing my ass. We moan in unison at the overwhelming pleasure. I begin to push off using my legs as leverage and fall back down, I pick up a brutal rhythm pushing us both to the high we need.

I can see Chris pulling at his bonds so I take pity and lean forward to untie him, my breasts in his face where he takes one of my pebbled nipples in his mouth and starts to stuck sending a shock wave straight to my throbbing clit.

As soon as his hands are free Chris grabs my hips and pistons into me. I can feel he’s close and even though I can feel we’re past the need for me to clarify I still give him permission to cum.

‘Cum for me baby, let go I want to feel it inside me’

And we go off like a rocket together unable to hold it back any longer. I collapse on his chest our breathing coming fast and uneven. Once we’ve settled I lift myself up and kiss him pouring all my love into that one kiss. His lip hair tickling my nose, giggling I pull away. ‘I wanted to kiss you like that from the second we’d started’

‘Why didn’t you?’ He questions

‘Because’ you explain. ‘They don’t always kiss in hard core porn and I wanted it to feel as real as possible’

“I never thought I would be into this that much, that was amazing babe we should do that again sometime.”

Laughing he pulls me to him again and nuzzles my neck. Once again his lip hair starts to tickle I push at his shoulder. ‘Okay mister, I think you need to shave that thing off now. I’ve had my fun I want my Chris back’

Laughing he gives me one last chaste kiss as he saunters into the bathroom giving me a perfect view of his still red ass.

#Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans smut #chris evans one shot #Steve Rogers #captain america #marvel #sub! chris evans #dom!reader #gifted #snowpiercer #pornstach

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bussanbaby · 7 years

Text

veni vidi amavi

soulmate (noun) - a person with whom you have an immediate connection the moment you meet; a connection so strong that you are drawn to them in a way you have never experienced before.

What does time mean to an immortal being?

Mundanes have a limited amount of it. Aware of the final line, they try to live out every fantasy before their hourglasses run clean. They plan out the years, goals to be achieved, memories to be made in the right order. They dream of being remembered after their years have rushed by, whether for something worthy of fame or just simple photographs set in frames on homely mantelpieces.

Sometimes, Magnus hears people say ‘We haven’t seen each other for so long!’ when it’s been a year or five, and it makes him smile. He’s always felt stationary, almost solid against the waves of time; for Magnus, there’s no end line in sight, no set rules, no bracket to keep him contained.

Immortality doesn’t mean invincibility - Magnus has learned that the hard way - but there is a specific sense of freedom in not having to count your years.

He turns the shower lever and waits until steam rises from the stream of water, then steps in.

Magnus has lived over four centuries on this earth, watched it evolve before his very eyes. He’s lived through many wars, fought to keep himself and his kind alive against all sorts of evil. But there have also been years of peace, when he was free to indulge in adventures, his studies and pleasures of life. With these years, came people.

He’s made great friends, like Catarina and Ragnor, who’ve stuck with him through thick and thin, made unforgettable memories and annoyed him out of his mind in the most loving way possible. There have been other acquaintances, warlocks he worked with, loyal clients, and random downworlders whose presence Magnus enjoyed immensely. They’ve all made his life different in their own ways and he will remember them, even if the world forgets about their existence.

There have also been lovers, many of them. Single night flings he remembers as clothes draped over furniture, long hours tasting like liquor and laughter, followed by parting ways. Some people stuck around for longer, held Magnus’ hand and went with him on dates, but, sooner or later, they always fled. Whether it was his cat eyes, past deeds or something else entirely, the relationships never lasted, each leaving behind a new fissure in Magnus’ soul.

Magnus tips his head back, letting the water from the showerhead spray over his face. He’s not sure why he’s thinking about all of this, old loves and the many years he remembers; maybe it’s the date or the repetitive motions that leave his mind wandering. His eyelashes flutter as droplets of water hang onto them, only to slip down his nose and chin, catch on the sharp edge of his jaw.

At first, he had hope - a romantic at heart, Magnus loves like he lives, to the fullest. But for an immortal, love, like everything else, is only temporary. He understands these feelings aren’t meant to be timeless, because even other warlocks or vampires he’s been with had never stayed as soon as the flame of affection dimmed.

Of course, break-ups are a commodity in the world of relationships, but, at some point, a tinny voice in the back of Magnus’ mind warned him to not get too attached, because he would always end up alone. By the point Camille had come into Magnus’ life, he was tired of it all, but let himself take a last chance; a last shot at putting his hand in the fire and hoping it wouldn’t burn.

She was good for him for a while - distracted his thoughts, set his mind at ease with her colorful personality and all kinds of frivolities, told Magnus she understood the pain he felt in his heart, pulled him away from the edge in more ways than one. They crashed events as famous people, partied until the sun rose overhead; Camille made Magnus feel good, made him feel important and wanted when the world meant to prove him otherwise. He loved her with his whole being, gifted her with his best works to keep her smiling, but her feelings for him were never quite the same.

Magnus has realised her decadence over time; for Camille love was just another plaything, an entertainment, something that required little effort on her side. Ruthlessly cold at the core, she toyed with Magnus’ emotions, selfishly manipulated him into giving her all she wanted, put thoughts in his head, ones he should have never believed. Where for him love was a gorgeous thing, for Camille it was a ball and chain; despite all she told Magnus, she never intended to be his forever.

Camille broke Magnus’ heart, shattered it into sharp pieces it took decades to pick up and put back together. After her, Magnus had had enough; he closed himself off from any kind of feelings for other people. He was sick of baring himself, letting people in, only to be pushed away over and over. And so, he’d promised himself to never love again.

Magnus lets his head lull forward, blinks his eyes open as water trickles down the back of his neck. Puffs of white foam wash down the drain, swirling around his feet, as he stands under the warm stream just for a moment longer. There’s no rush for him to be anywhere, no lives in danger, no early calls, no war to fight.

With a relaxed sigh, he steps out and dries himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist. Without the loud hum of the water, Magnus can clearly hear the birds chirping right outside the house through the open window; the air brushing his bare skin smells of sea salt and the citrus trees growing nearby. Hair dry after a click of his fingers, Magnus combs it back loosely, and with a brief glance into the mirror, he leaves the bathroom.

He’s bought this Provençal little house on a whim, after on one date night Alec suggested that if they ever get a day off, they should elope, spend it out in the countryside and away from the big cities. And now, they’re here on a sunny Saturday, with their phones turned off and all day to themselves. Fingers dragging over flowery wallpaper, Magnus makes his way over to the master bedroom, old wooden floors creaking under his weight.

They’d arrived yesterday evening, just after they both got off work and said goodbyes to their kids, who were staying with Luke and Maryse. The summer warmth stuck to their skin the second they stepped through the portal, kept them company while they strolled around a nearby quaint town tucked into the seaside, hand in hand down cobblestone alleys lined with buildings painted the muted shades of sunset. They tried the food and listened to stories told by locals, until it got dark and the stars rose above their heads. New York’s sky couldn’t ever measure up to to the bright-freckled night in the middle of a heather field.

At one point, when they were already drunk on love and rosé, when Magnus was laughing at something Alec said so hard he had to prop himself on whatever was near, it seemed like they were the only people in the entire world. Not hearing Alec’s laughter along his own, Magnus looked up, caught him staring with a gaze intense and tinted with something earnest and tender, something that spoke beyond simple words.

“Look at you. You’re so beautiful.”

Magnus has heard those words many times from Alec, who takes every chance to tell him how gorgeous he is, inside and out. He has made Magnus feel far from an abomination, monstrous and dangerous - when faced with Magnus’ past, Alec hadn’t passed judgement; instead, he’d embraced Magnus, along with all his vices and virtues, and accepted him as he was. Alec had made Magnus feel safe.

With stars above them and the brightest ones set in Alec’s eyes, Magnus crowded him against a wall, kissed him with all he had - passion and fondness and devotion. Alec smiled against his mouth, Magnus could feel him push his entire body into the gesture, respond to the kiss like a storm, electric and enticing at once; Magnus would never tire of it, of how each kiss made his heart grow two sizes, whether it was an everyday greeting or something deeper and more reverent as this.

When Magnus walks into the bedroom, Alec seems to still be asleep. Before, he was settled on his stomach, his bare back exposed to the rays of sun slipping in through the wooden shutters, pale ochre-colored light cutting thick lines like painter’s strokes into his runed skin.

Slipping out from beneath the thin sheets, Magnus had dragged his gaze along the curves of Alec’s muscles, over paths Magnus’ hands have taken more times than he can count. It felt impossible to leave the bed with his husband still in it, warm and solid, yet he had, mind heavy with thoughts only to be resolved under a stream of hot water.

Now Alec is on his back, tangled in the lavender-colored fabric, sleep-hazy and uninhibited, with his arms resting loosely over his torso and a sliver of thigh peeking through a gap in the coiled sheets. He looks like an artist’s muse, Greek Apollo captured in tan marble. Stuck in the doorway, Magnus smiles absentmindedly, wanting to keep this image forever.

The clothes they’d shed the day before, lost in the sensation of skin on skin and fingertips pressed into muscle, are still scattered over the wooden floors; Magnus picks up a crumpled shirt and a pair of pants on his way over to a small suitcase they’d brought along. He throws them onto an armchair in the corner of the room and fishes out some fresh underwear, the breeze from the open balcony door wrapping itself around his ankles. The towel lands on the ground with a soft noise and Magnus pulls the red boxer briefs over his ass.

“Nice view,” Alec murmurs, his voice rough with disuse, the words slurring together into one noise Magnus deciphers with years of practice. He turns to look behind him, only to find Alec with a smile on his face, somewhere between sleepy and playful, an arm tucked behind his head as a pillow.

Magnus lifts an eyebrow at Alec, unimpressed.

“Good morning to you, too,” he says with a semi-flat tone, his amusement at the mischievousness coloring his voice despite best efforts.

With a sigh accompanied by Alec’s chuckle, Magnus looks towards the horizon beyond the balcony railing - the pale sand bordering overgrown flower fields, the sea waves lapping at the coast, cerulean lined with white foam. He glances back towards Alec and sends him a sly wink.

“It’s quite impressive, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh, it’s extraordinary,” Alec hums in agreement, then huffs out an indulgent laugh at their stupid little jokes; the sound echoes bright between Magnus’ ribs as he goes to hang the damp towel over the balcony railing.

The late-morning sun touches at his skin when he leans against the carved wood, letting the wind play with strands of his hair. He’s spent so much time in New York that this kind of quiet feels almost eerie - there’s no honking taxis, no helicopters flying over buildings at random hours in the night, no people with their easy chatter littering every nook and cranny of the city. Instead, there’s just nature, bees and birds mingling, the rustle of branches against the roof tiles.

“Come back to bed? I haven’t kissed my husband today yet and I really want to,” Alec says, voice teasing, yet soft.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Magnus remarks, taking deliberately slow stops towards the bed, watching Alec’s smile grow into a sleepy grin.

The mattress creaks beneath Magnus’ weight when he settles on his knees across Alec’s hips, arms pressed into the pillow on both sides of Alec’s head. Alec looks up at Magnus, hands raising to rest against his neck, feather-light and adoring. It’s slow and easy to drown in, Alec smiling mid-kiss, pressing soft pecks to the corners of Magnus’ lips before pushing up for more open mouthed kisses.

When Magnus met Alec, he had long forgotten what true love felt like. It was a tumultuous time, with Valentine on the rise and the warlocks uneasy. Then, Clary came like a whirlwind back into Magnus’ life, turning it inside out. With Clary, Alec had begrudgingly tagged along, at first thorny and closed-off, always keeping himself safe in the shadows of others. Yet, since the first time they’d spoken to each other - even before that - they’d had a connection.

It was beyond simple physical attraction; it was more than skin-deep. Even in the aftermath of their short-lived fight with that Circle member, they took a moment just to breathe each other in, Magnus watched a smile grow on Alec’s face, unabashed and uninhibited with the burdens of his everyday life. There was something so special, something Magnus couldn’t deny, and it was exactly what pushed him to reach out, start the entire chain of events that led them here.

Kissing Alec feels easier than breathing, their bodies responding in sync to each other, one of Magnus’ hands travelling down Alec’s chest, over coarse hair and to his side, thumb dragging against the sharp line of his hipbone only to grab at his thigh. Before they even realize, their chests are pressed flush together, legs tangled and hearts beating to one rhythm.

They’ve done this more times than Magnus can count, kissed until their mouths were red and puffy; sometimes it was all passion and heat deep in the pit of Magnus’ stomach, their hands reckless and needy, but sometimes it was just like this, steady and lazy and slow, touching for the sake of it.

The initial leap into the unknown was terrifying, every exposed piece of Magnus’ soul a step onto the minefield. The first Shadowhunter to come into Magnus’ life, Alec was a key to the cage Magnus had locked himself into a century ago. And it wasn’t easy at the beginning - with every move forward, they made two back; after all, nothing good ever comes easy. The turning point was the wedding Magnus crashed, when he decided to fight once more for his and Alec’s happiness, with a little bit of help from an old friend. In hindsight, it was one of the best choices Magnus has made, because Alec was like summer rain - powerful, yet soothing.

He turned Magnus’ world upside down and led him home at once.

Magnus presses his lips against the deflect rune on Alec’s neck and feels the fingers buried in his hair tighten, pulling a hum from his chest. It’s mouths brushing against stubbled cheeks, smiles hidden in collarbones, ticklish touches leaving them giggling like teenagers. They kiss and kiss and kiss, until they feel full, if for a little while.

Helplessly tangled up in the sheets, Magnus lies down on his back next to Alec, who shuffles closer, resting his chin on Magnus’ chest and winding an arm around his waist. Without the need to say anything and slightly out of breath, Magnus moves his fingers through Alec’s hair, combing back the unruly curls that keep springing back into their place.

“25 years, huh,” Alec muses, his chin digging into the muscle underneath with each movement.

Magnus cranes his neck down at a strange angle, pretty positive he’s sporting a double chin from Alec’s point of view; his fingers keep running through the motions.

“That’s roughly half your life you’ve been married to me. How does it feel?”

“Wonderful, actually.” Alec smiles lopsidedly, halfway lost in his thoughts, swallows around the next words. “Do you think I’d be bald by now, like Camille said? Or maybe I’d have grey sides, all rugged and sexy a la Oscar Isaac.”

Magnus chuckles, a vision of Alec dressed like the Star Wars pilot forming in his imagination; the leather jacket would look surely nice on him, fitting well into Alec’s already existing fashion sense.

“First of all, did you hang out with Simon recently? And second of all, Camille didn’t know what she was talking about. I love you as you are, in all your messy, bed-hair glory.”

Alec’s snicker is mixed with a soft glance from beneath his eyelashes, before he pushes up on his arm to peck Magnus on the mouth, lingering close just for a couple of seconds. “Love you too, baby.”

He lies down comfortably again, this time with his scratchy cheek against Magnus’ skin. The hand that was resting loosely around Magnus’ waist begins to trace feather-light shapes over his side.

Magnus’ hand stills, settling against the curve of Alec’s skull, almost cradling it against his chest.

Their love was a conversation, a dialogue of souls made of the same material. Smitten with each other from the very beginning, it was impossible to stay away - no matter what life threw at them, they’ve always returned, found the right path and tangled their hands together. They’re good for each other, but in a healthier way than Camille was for Magnus. While it’s impossible to avoid comparisons, Magnus knows deeply they’re two entirely different worlds, a theatre show versus something so real and tender that sometimes it hurts to feel.

Alec has made Magnus open up and believe again - in true love, in stability, and a kind of safety going beyond locked doors and magical wards. That he still can have his happy forever. Alec has listened to Magnus’ doubts and fears, opinions and memories, heard beyond his voice. Alec has loved him in the moments when Magnus felt unlovable.

Magnus sighs, a subtle smile settled on his mouth, as he blinks himself out of his thoughts. He used to have quiet days a lot back in his more lonesome times. There’s less of them now, but they still happen, almost welcome - times likes this sun-lit morning, where’s no darkness weighing down on him, but something peaceful and complete instead.

His fingers dance down Alec’s back, over the straight line of his spine, pulling a drowsy hum from Alec resting on his chest. He seems to be drifting in and out of sleep, eyes closed, but fingertips still moving against Magnus’ side.

“Let’s have breakfast, dove,” Magnus says quietly, drumming his fingers against the knobs of Alec’s vertebrae.

“Can’t we have breakfast in bed?” Alec groans back, pushing his face into Magnus’ skin as if he could escape the reality and the sun slowly climbing higher and higher in the sky.

It’s a tempting offer, one snap of Magnus’ fingers and they could have the feast of their lives in these very sheets, but it doesn’t feel right; he’s gotten so used to doing things the mundane way with Alec that it’s almost ridiculous.

“Come on, you lazy oaf, there’s only so many hours in a day. And I’m really craving your special recipe scrambled eggs.” Magnus pats Alec’s ass and with one final sigh of defeat from the Shadowhunter, they both start to get up, the mattress squeaking with each sluggish movement.

Alec pads over to the suitcase and picks out a pair of black underwear to slip into before brushing past Magnus in the doorway, his hair sticking out in every possible direction. They walk down the stairs, the worn carpet rough beneath their bare feet. The small kitchen they walk into is connected to a dining room, framed with black and white linoleum and kitchen isles, plenty of space for a whole family. The sun is pouring in through the window, exposing all little dust particles floating around.

“Chef Alec is in the kitchen, two orders of five-star scrambled eggs with spinach and tomatoes coming right up,” Alec jokes as he pulls a pan from one of the cabinets, twirling it in his palm before he sets it on the stove.

The fridge is freshly well-stocked, charmed with a spell to always provide everything they need, and Alec dumps an armful of ingredients onto the counter, busying his hands and mind with making breakfast, already looking much more awake than moments before.

Magnus, on the other hand, busies himself with coffee and making the toast to accompany the eggs; he cuts thick slices of dark bread and puts them in the oven to crisp up, before pulling out the french press.

Still, Magnus can’t help but stare.

Alec still looks so young, bright-eyed and with morning scruff covering his face; there are no grey hairs on his head, no wrinkles embedded in his skin, except for little crow’s feet around his eyes that came from smiling. The golden band around Alec’s right ring finger catches the light as he cuts the tomatoes, quick and efficient.

It’s an unspoken rule that warlocks rarely marry. Usually, it’s the fear of commitment with mortals - the promise of heartbreak after they pass lingering like a ghost over your shoulder or people not wanting to spend the entirety of their lives devoted to one soul. But Alec has always had a tendency to surprise Magnus.

He always manages to say things that nobody has ever told Magnus before. There’s nothing ugly about you. I don’t think I can live without you. Will you marry me?

How could Magnus say no to the love of his life? They’ve gotten married, surrounded by their friends and family, all dressed in shades of gold. Magnus has never thought it would happen to him, that he’d be able to walk down the aisle covered with rose petals, holding his newly-wed husband’s slightly clammy hand, to see him smile at Magnus like he hung the stars and the moon in the sky. Magnus had resigned himself to a life alone, but there was Alec, taking down all his walls one by one, pressing a pair of gentle hands against Magnus’ heart.

There have been many lovers in Magnus’ life and he could not count them all, no matter how much he tried - fleeting romances, deeper connections, flings that turned into friendships. But never before has there been a person like Alec. Never someone who was more than a lover, who was also a best friend, a partner in crime, a kindred spirit.

With Alec, everything clicked - every joke was funnier if told by him (even if he stuttered through the punchline) and trouble never seemed as daunting with his presence behind Magnus’ back; they could talk about anything and everything from dinner options, politics and opinions, dreams and deepest fears, right to their plans for the future.

There wasn’t a day where Magnus didn’t think of his husband, his honest and loyal and tender husband, where his chest didn’t burst at the seams with all the love he harbored for so long. Alec isn’t Magnus’ longest relationship by far, but Magnus is sure it will outlast the world itself - he is a constant in a world full of temporary people.

After dumping a few spoonfuls of coffee grounds into the press, Magnus sets the kettle with a click of his fingers, not wanting to get into Alec’s way as he’s shuffling the eggs around with a wooden spatula. The food smells heavenly and Magnus feels hunger gnawing at his insides, almost tempting him to steal just a little bit off of the pan.

Alec glances up, one of his eyes lit up by the sun while he studies Magnus’ expression; since somewhere along the lines he’s learned to read Magnus like a book, he smiles and scoops some of the food onto the spatula, blows on it to cool it and carefully brings it closer to Magnus’ face.

Magnus dips down and takes a bite, managing to not spill any on the ground. With his mouth full, he can’t speak, so instead he expresses his emotions by a dip of his eyelids and a shamelessly exaggerated moan; there’s just the right amount of spices and herbs in the food.

Alec chuckles, his smile somewhere between smitten and pleased. “I’ll take that as a yes?”

With a hand on the side of Alec’s neck to draw him closer, Magnus nods, pauses chewing to peck Alec’s mouth and wink at him. “Yum.”

The kettle starts whistling, bursting their flirtatious bubble. While Magnus pours the boiling water into the press, Alec reaches into the oven with the mitts on, pulling out a pan full of already browned, crispy, and perfectly warm toast, then sets it aside for a bit to cool.

With a sigh, Magnus focuses on stirring the coffee mixture, waiting for it to brew properly; nobody wants to drink bad coffee.

He didn’t want to let Alec go, still doesn’t. And while at some point in his life, Magnus had had come to terms with the issue of mortality, sometimes it surfaced like an oil spill over seawaves, dark and worrisome. Over a year of their marriage later and right on the day of Alec’s birthday, they were sat with half-full glasses of wine on the loft’s balcony, when Alec turned to him with a vulnerable look after Magnus asked him what he’d like for his birthday next year.

“The only gift I want is an eternity with you.”

The words resonated loudly as if the entire world had disappeared into silence, only leaving him and this hazel-eyed mystery of a man, always making Magnus’ heart strain against his ribs. Immortality is not something he’d ever push Alec about, because while it sounded good on the surface, it came with a price of death - not yours, but everyone around you.

But Alec was sure of his decision, sincere and quiet in the way he held Magnus’ hands; for Nephilim, death was always on the other side of the coin. It had taken a deal - a dangerous amount of energy and an exchange with a yellow-eyed creature in the middle of the glowing summoning circle.

And now, there were the two of them, moving against the current of time, watching almost everyone around them age with grace.

The clink of plates pulls Magnus out of his thoughts again and it’s a miracle he hasn’t spilled any coffee on himself. Alec piles the eggs onto the dishes in even amounts, pairs it with the now-buttered toast and sprinkles everything with just a bit of grated cheese.

Magnus closes the lid and pushes down on the press, filtering the coffee before pouring it into two mugs, one of them chipped at the handle and Alec’s utmost favorite. With their hands full, they move to the porch on the back of the house that looks out onto the shore, a small space surrounded with glass walls and a ceiling like a greenhouse. The cold from the stone tiles seeps into Magnus’ feet as he wanders over to the patio furniture to put down their coffees - a dark wicker table and matching chairs, the entire space cluttered with potted plants.

Alec lingers behind, his deep breath audible in the vague quietness.

“We should bring the kids here for a weekend, you know, have a little picnic at the beach.”

Magnus smiles to himself, takes the plates from his husband’s hands and sets them down alongside the mugs. “We should, I’m sure they’d love it here with all the space to run around in and explore.”

“They’re a lively bunch, just like the ones before them. I fear for Luke and his back.” Alec chuckles, his words conjuring the fresh image of pepper-and-salt haired Lucian in Magnus’ mind, the eldest Garroway-Lightwood enjoying his role as a grandpa.

“He’ll handle himself. If he made it through Clary’s puberty, then what are three little downworlders in comparison? And he’s got Simon and your mom on stand-by,” Magnus shrugs and they sit down side by side.

Through the glass, Magnus watches the sea move, waves folding over each other, washing out empty shells and starfish onto the sand. Alec takes a bite of his food and washes it down with a sip of coffee, then turns in his seat to face Magnus, cheek resting against the top of his palm, the fork unsteady between loose fingers and dangling above the plate.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

Magnus sighs, turns to meet Alec’s eyes, curious and roaming over the lines of his face with half-hidden worry. He looks and looks and looks - takes in the little scar in his eyebrow, the edge of the rune curling up his jaw, the small birthmarks at the base of his throat.

This is the man who has stolen Magnus’ heart, the one who knows him better than anyone else in the world, the one that treats Magnus like a sacred and powerful demigod. Alexander Lightwood-Bane, Magnus’ immortal husband, the father of his children, his North Star.

Magnus lifts his palm, presses it against Alec’s face, thumb swiping in slow motions against his cheekbone. He leans into it, patient and golden-hearted.

“I am glad to have met you.” It’s a simple statement, underlaid with emotions too big to describe in any sort of language.

Maybe it’s Magnus’ expression what gives it away or the way his hand stills as he gathers the next words, but Alec seems to understand - he smiles encouragingly, his coffee-warmed palm settling over Magnus’.

“When I saw you for the first time, not at the loft, but at Pandemonium, my heart ached and I knew you’d be someone special. That you’d be it.”

In that moment, as Alec pushed past Magnus just after saving his life, a feeling surfaced, something almost like a voice in Magnus’ ears despite the bouncing club music - there you are, please stay for a while.

Now, he’s looking at Magnus with this bittersweet fondness, as he tugs his hand down from his face and instead cradles it in his own palms, long fingers wrapping their way across Magnus’ skin. The touch is grounding in a way, a quiet expression of love and awe.

His grip tightens for a breath and he smiles again, there and gone.

“Listen, I had a whole speech ready for our candlelit dinner later, but I wasn’t prepared for this.” They laugh, because of course Alec had a speech planned. He keeps saying he’s far from a romantic, but if the spontaneous and heartfelt confessions and random gifts, just because, are anything to go by, Alec is one of the most sentimental, idealistic people Magnus knows.

“I wasn’t prepared for you, either. From the moment I was born, I was taught to not believe in the idea of happy love. Practical marriages, alliances for wealth, yes, but not the kind of affection that makes your life better, that makes you happy. You saved me, Magnus.”

The words hang in the air, echoing in Magnus’ mind. He has never really believed in the concept of soulmates, two people destined to cross each other’s paths, two hearts bound to each other before they were born. Fate herself is a trickster, painting an endless amount of paths to take, and before meeting Alec, Magnus would’ve scoffed at the notion of someone meant for him; it just didn’t seem reasonable, but now, it’s different. Maybe they did save each other after all - from loneliness, heartache, a sort of emptiness nothing material can fill.

“Hey.” Magnus catches Alec’s gaze, their hands still tangled in his lap, cooling breakfast be damned. “Thanks for loving me.”

Alec’s following eyeroll is a mix of exasperation and understanding, because he’s been there too, when the best things in your life feel like a dream never meant to last. But theirs had, against all odds.

“You are the man of my life and if I could marry you again, I’d go down on my knee right now. It’s an honor to love you,” Alec says with pure conviction, lifting Magnus’ palm to his lips, branding a soft kiss onto his skin, a knight’s promise.

Magnus swallows the lump in his throat, voice breathy. “I’d say yes. Always.”

They fall quiet against the song of the sea and Alec leans closer, kisses Magnus; it’s far from rushed, not a fire doused with gasoline, but a steady light against the dark. With that, they settle back into their seats, hands still linked, but now resting on Magnus’ bare knee. He clicks the fingers of his free hand to heat up their food again, the steam curling above the plates in abstract shapes.

Alec hums, then laughs quietly, almost as if to himself. “We’re giant saps, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are.”

They both pick up their respective coffee cups, clink them together in a mock-toast like champagne flutes.

Fifty, a hundred years ago, Magnus was disillusioned, disappointed by what the world was to him. He was drowning in something dark, a cold and deep ocean that sat inside of him - pretty on the surface, but harboring things nobody wants to see.

Here he is now, bathed in something peaceful, something that tastes like black pepper and coffee. The darkness, the cold water, they’re still there; love will not erase it, nor it will fix it, because it was never broken. Love just makes living easier, all the rights brighter and all the wrongs more bearable.

Alec smiles at him, fingers squeezing Magnus’.

“Happy anniversary, love.”

Whether it’s in a year or five or ten, it will be okay. Storms at sea pass and one day everyone finds their someone, their somewhere; for every sailor, there is a haven.

Magnus smiles back, lifts his cup to his mouth and takes a slow sip. The hot liquid warms him from the inside as it travels through his body.

“Happy anniversary, my dear Alexander.”

It will be okay.

#malec #shadowhunters #blushyalec #moonylady #magnusragnor #posibane #patronusmagnus #willjtudor #hufflebee #magnusbaene #userjoanna #userria #my fics #this was beta'd by charl (lightwoodlesbians)#she's v patient and kind go give her all the love

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