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drabblesandimagines · 11 months

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Promises

Leon Kennedy x female reader Fluffy nonsense, taken some liberties with timeline of RE2R.

“There.” You hop off the desk and turn back round to admire your handiwork, hands on your hips and tilting your head a little at the banner now hanging from the ceiling tiles, surrounded by streamers. “Hey – does that look squint to you?” It had looked level when you were stood up there, but now you’re back on the ground the banner proudly displaying Welcome Leon looked a little off.

“Does it matter?” Edward steps behind you, files in hand after rummaging through the filing cabinet. “He’s not going to take a spirit level to it.”

“No, but…” You sigh, tilting your head in the other direction to see if that made a difference.

“You were off the clock 40 minutes ago, rookie, and I ain’t paying overtime.” Branagh’s voice booms from his office door and you turn, shrugging your shoulders in acknowledgement. He’s got his jacket over his arm, briefcase in hand, looking to be heading home for the evening.

“Of course, Lieutenant. I just wanted to get this up before I left for the day. He still starts the day after tomorrow, right?”

“Mm-hm. I don’t know why Chief Irons is insisting on this morale-boosting bullshit.”

You hold your tongue – calling it bullshit is exactly why the captain is insisting on it, and when Branagh had tasked you to do something to make the new recruit – one Leon S Kennedy – feel welcome upon joining the force, you’d thought the idea was quite sweet. It had been daunting enough for you almost six months earlier, joining a police station where everyone else was a few years your senior and friends for a good while. It had been difficult gaining their respect, proving your worth but, hey, you had it now… more or less.

Branagh sighs – you must’ve been pouting. “It’s not squint, rookie.” He walks over, looking at the banner and streamers with a stoic expression. “As long as you haven’t wasted taxpayers’ money with that and that weird lock puzzle you’ve set up, then I shouldn’t complain.”

“No, sir. I got the locks from storage and the banner and streamers are all on me. And we could re-use it, if you switch some letters around…”

He scoffs, taking in the sign again. “To what?”

“Er…” You look at the letters. “O clown melee.”

Branagh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go home.” He turns to your fellow officer, then. “Edward, I expect that report on my desk first thing tomorrow.”

“You got it, Lieutenant.” Branagh nods as he leaves the room. “Why are you so excited about the new guy anyway, rookie?” Edward is at his desk now, flipping through the pile of arrest records.

“Isn’t it obvious, Edward?” You grin, picking up your rucksack from beneath your desk.

“Ah, you want a boyfriend, I get it.”

“Ugh.” You scoff. “No, it means I won’t be the rookie anymore.”

Edward cocks his eyebrow at you before shaking his head. “Nah, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line is casual, upbeat. It’s nice to hear after the last 24 hours has been anything but. It matches the photo in the file you have, one finger still besides his contact number. Blonde hair, cute face. Too sweet to come here now.

“Leon Kennedy?” You try and steady your voice, sitting at the desk in Branagh’s office. You can see some streamers dangling from the ceiling and you hope the broadcast that’s been playing for the last few hours can’t be picked up on the line.

“Speaking. Who’s this?”

“I’m with the Raccoon Police Department.” There’s blood on your forearm, but you’re not sure if it’s yours. “I know you were meant to start tomorrow, but there’s been a… delay with the paperwork. Our end, not yours. We’ll be in touch with a new date.”

“Oh. That’s…” He sounds disappointed, but if you told him the real reason he wouldn’t believe it. You don’t believe it. “Er, that’s okay. Thanks for letting me know. You’ll definitely been in touch?”

There’s a bang at the window. A man, blood dripping down from his mouth, a gouge out of his own neck snarls at you through the pane of glass.

“We will.”

“All rig-” There’s no dial tone, no beep of disconnection – just silence. They’ve cut the phonelines.

Seven days of hell. This wasn’t covered at the academy – whatever this is. They said it was a radiation leak at first – that was what was making people act so feral. You’d seen the worst of humanity over the days and no-one seemed to be coming to help anymore. The army had been drafted in, at first evacuating bus-loads of civilians out before that was deemed too risky. They then tried to quarantine everyone, everything in but nothing is working – blockades go up, they come down, more and more people die, your colleagues die.

Or do they, really? Scott, Ford and Carlsen were definitely upright, shuffling towards you the third or fourth time you resorted to shooting them in the head.

The police station was designated a shelter, a sanctuary. It’s a sturdy building, that’s for sure – solid walls of a former art museum – but it’s not enough to stop whatever has happened to the people you tried so hard to protect.

You don’t know where Phillips, Edward or Branagh are, or if they are still even them. It’s impossible to know how long you’ve been down in the cells now – power’s out, it’s dark all of the time. The only way you know that time has passed at all is by the hunger pangs in your stomach.

You’re just glad that they’re not for human flesh.

Yet.

You’d found Irons down here. His last orders were for everyone to stay in the station itself, but Branagh had sent you down, reluctantly, in the hopes of finding any sort of supplies that hadn’t already been picked apart. Everyone assumed the chief was dead - hadn’t been seen in days. As you’d headed down to the cells, you’d heard raised voices, arguing. You couldn’t work out what they were saying at first, concentrating too much on the fact that they were real voices, saying real words and not guttural growls.

Chief Irons holding a gun in a man’s face, forcing him into in a cell and slamming the door shut is not what you’re expecting to see.

“Don’t just stand there,” the new prisoner called out to you, “help me! The guy’s a madman. He’s been selling us all out to Umbrella this whole time. He’s responsible for this all!”

Chief Irons turns to you, pupils blown out, looking fed up, gun still held aloft but now in your direction.

“What are you doing down here? You were told to all stay up in the station.”

“Sorry, Chief. We thought… Branagh told me to come down. What’s going on?”

“Er, hello! Did you hear me?” The man is holding the bars of the cell. “He caused this.”

You ignore your gut in the presence of authority, “Is it wise, sir, to leave him in there? He’ll be a sitting duck.”

“He’s not the only one.” And you see his trigger finger flex.

You run then, an attempt at a sprint from the adrenaline, but there’s a hot, searing pain in your thigh. You’re fast, but he’s faster, an arm wrapped around your windpipe, cutting off the oxygen. You stomp on his foot, jerk your head back, anything to try and make him release his grip but the world is swimming before you.

Perhaps this is the most peaceful death you could wish for.

There is a bitter feeling when you wake up, locked in a cell further down the corridor from where you’d been, without your gun, thigh tacky with blood and painful to move. There is a crude bandage wrapped around it, preventing blood loss but it feels more a death sentence than a blessing, surrounded by echoing snarls and rats that need kicking away.

You wake up to repetitive, methodical gunshots. Someone is going cell by cell, peering in and eliminating those inside.

Maybe the army is back, maybe they’re cleaning up the mess.

You’d fallen asleep sat in the corner on the cot, back leaned up against the wall. The rats didn’t seem to climb up here as much at least – you’d feel them before they managed to get a nibble.

The footsteps are getting closer and closer before a flashlight is shone around your cell, investigating every nook and cranny before it lands on your face, causing you to squint. You hold up your hands.

“I’m not one of them.” You plead, your voice raspy from sleep. You desperately want to cough but worry that’ll make too much of a them sound.

“Are you hurt?” The voice sounds fleetingly familiar. You blink in the light before it dips a little and you can see who’s wielding it.

Although his hair is mussed, a little bloody, you recognize the sweet face from the file on Branagh’s desk all those days ago and a certain something clipped on the end of his gun.

“You got your welcome present.” “Huh?”

“You’re Leon, right?” He nods. You get to your feet, cautiously, using the last of your energy to limp across to the bars, curling your fingers around them to steady yourself. You offer your name - as if it would mean anything to him. “I put that in your desk. Did you solve the lock or did you just smash your way through?”

“No, no, I solved ‘em.” He bites his tongue, doesn’t tell you that when he solved them was moments after he had to shoot that certain colleague in the head. “Did you put that all together?”

You smile, “And the banner – if it’s still up.”

“No, it is.” He wraps his hand on top of yours, maybe as desperate for human contact as you’d been. “Thank you – I wish I could’ve seen it on a day as it should’ve been seen.”

“Me too. But… why are you here? I told you to stay away.”

“That was you as well?” His eyes widen – beautiful blue things. If Edward could see you the smitten look on your face now, he’d be intolerable. He’d caught you making eyes over guys being booked in the past, after all.

“I wish you’d listened.”

“You said you’d be in touch.” He teases, before settling into something more serious. “I’m glad I didn’t cos it looks like you’re in quite the predicament. Why are you in there?”

“Long story. Can you get me out? There should be an override switch for all the cells – runs on a generator. Not sure if things have been messing with it.”

“I’ll work something out.” He smiles, squeezing your hand before he lets go. “Just… sit tight. I’ll be back – I promise.”

And, as you stagger back to the cot, head falling back against the wall, you believe him.

Time is fuzzy now, or maybe you’re just weak from hunger, weak from pain. Water from the cell sink has been the only thing that’s kept you going. But now there’s an alarm sounding and mechanical locks clunking and so much groaning.

Your name is being called, shoulders shaken but you can’t focus. You’re heaved up from the cot, arms wrapped around your waist and over someone’s shoulder. A hand squeezes your backside before there’s an apology and it shifts back to your waist. There’s gunshots, hissing, snarling, screaming, swearing all around you but all you can do is hang limply, catching glimpses of limbs and blood smears on the floor before it all goes black again.

“She’s dead weight.” A new voice – female – echoes around your head, though you’re in a different position now – cradled in someone’s arms, face pressed against the weirdly familiar feeling of a bulletproof vest.

“Ada.” A warning tone.

“What? You can’t carry her and shoot.”

“It’s fine.”

“Not where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?” You mumble, forcing your eyes open and up to see that picture perfect smile once more.

“Hey. How you feeling?”

“I’ve felt better.”

“I’m sure. This is Ada – she’s with the FBI.” A woman in sunglasses and a white coat shoots you a disinterested look. “We’re going to Umbrella’s lab. This whole thing’s a virus – we need to stop…” He smiles, noting your bemused expression. “I’ll explain later. You just rest, okay? We’ll find you somewhere safe whilst we deal with this.”

“Safe?” You want to laugh. “Good luck.”

Leon finds something though – an armored military truck the south side of town. No windows, a box of rations still intact.

“Okay, you stay set up in here.” He’s crouched in front of you, Ada hanging back at the door. “I promise I’ll be back for you afterwards.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He squeezes your hand. “I’m gonna keep it – just you see.” Leon gets to his feet and Ada steps aside as he exits, before peering at you over her shades.

“Here.” She withdraws a gun from within her coat, slides it over the metal flooring of the truck. “Just in case.”

Leon puts on a smile behind her, hand aloft in a wave and Ada slams the door shut.

You don’t need to check the barrel to know there’s only one bullet in there.

More time passes through a combination of consciousness and unconsciousness. Opening up packets of dry, dusty crackers that tasted euphoric on an empty stomach and bottled water, gun still within reach and blissful silence as the thick metal walls obscured all sound from outside.

The door opens, morning light flooding behind, illuminating Leon as an angelic figure – his shoulder now wrapped in a bloodied bandage. A woman sporting a ponytail behind him, a little girl too, but no Ada.

“You came back.” You breathe out as he crouches in front of you, taking your hand.

“I promised, didn’t I? This is Claire and Sherry, and we’re all getting out of here.”

You kiss him, clumsily, head still woozy, but his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head, holding you steady before someone clears their throat behind.

“Ahem, Leon…” Claire jerks her head towards Sherry, the girl staring wide-eyed.

“Sorry.” He’s flustered – adorably so – but he drops his hand from your head and helps you to your feet, keeping you close to his uninjured side. He presses his lips to the side of your temple as Claire and Sherry turn, mumbling into your ear.

“And I promise to come back for your kiss too.”

You wake with a start, sitting up in the bed, trying to catch your breath. You were back in the police station, hands grabbing at you from boarded up windows, guttural wet sounds from things no longer human.

There’s movement besides you, followed by a click, a soft, yellow light illuminating the room as a warm hand rubs your back.

“You with me, sweetheart?” Leon asks, cautiously. He knows how it feels to wake from a nightmare, how disorientating it can be.

You reach for his hand, lacing his fingers between your own, grounding yourself. You're in bed, you're home, you're safe, you're with him. “You came back.”

“Always will.”

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

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lostfirefly · 5 months

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What do you do? What do you do in the bath?

I've been incredibly productive this week. I will probably be less active next week, because I need to prepare for the 3D animation course test. English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :)

Masterlist is here

I'm not confident in writing smut. So I apologize in advance.

Decription: Buggy came home from a short tour. He and Catherine are taking a bath. Something gets out of control :)

Warnings: SFW (fun, domestic fluff) turns into NSFW (Cathie-pie seduces her clown), MDNI

Words: 4749

Buggy x OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series.

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august

The title is taken from "In the Bath" by Lemon Jelly (don't laugh!).

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Catherine periodically came to the window with a glass of wine. She glanced first at the clock, then out the window. She heard the sound of a car door closing and ran to the window again.

“Not my little bear…” She sighed, took a bottle of wine and went to the sofa.

Catherine was lying on the sofa with a book when she heard the sound of keys in the front door and heavy footsteps.

"Cotton candy, I'm home!" She heard her favorite deep voice from the corridor.

"Finally!!!" Catherine jumped up from the couch and ran to the front door and saw Buggy leaning with his back against the wall. She clenched her hands into fists and started squealing.

"My Buggy Bea-a-r!!!!" Catherine jumped on Buggy, hugging him with her arms and legs. "Hi, hi, hi!!" Smack. Smack. Smack.

“First, hi! Second, it's still a disgusting nickname when you are gonna change it? Third, this is for you! I bought it.” He handed her a bouquet of blue carnations.

“Liar!!” Smack. “I’m pretty sure you stole it!” Smack. “Thanks!” Smack. “So beautiful!” Smack. “Your nickname remains!” Smack. “I missed you!” Smack. Smack. Smack.

“First, why pay for a bouquet when I can easily steal it?” Buggy shrugged, trying to pretend he doesn't like smacks. “Second, I have only been gone for two days and already such a greeting! I like it!!” He carried Catherine into the bedroom.

“You were gone for two whole days, my red-nose thief!” Smack. Smack. Smack. “How did everything go? Did the fangirls attack you? Found yourself a new girlfriend?” Catherine stroked his head. “I'm sorry I couldn't go with you. Women's things finished me off.” She kissed him on his lips.

“Are you out of your mind? Why do I need some other girl? Everything went fine!” Buggy put Catherine on the bed. “Feeling better already?” He took the bouquet and sent his hand to place it in a vase on the night table.

“Yes! By the way, what kind of strange thing did you send me? I didn’t get the sense.” Catherine wiped her lips, took out her phone and showed the photo.

“Damn! You have me listed under that fucking nickname here, too.” Buggy placed his hand on her waist, glanced at her, pretending he’s unhappy with the recording. “And this isn't a strange thing. Honey, it’s you.”

"It's a bush, Buggy!” Catherine put her hand on his shoulder.

“No-o-o, it's you!” He pointed his finger at the photo.

“In what universe is this me?"

“It looks like you! See? Here’s the hair, the hands. And if you look closely at these branches, this is your “I hate you” face. I saw it, thought about you, and wanted to show it to you.”

“I can't believe that the love of my life compared me to a bush.” Catherine kissed Buggy on his head, started jumping on the bed and watched him change into his home clothes. “You sent a message that you'll be home in an hour. And it's already been two. Where have you been, jackass? How's the journey home?”

“Disgusting. I had to put a couple of my freaks in the car, and they kept whining. Sometimes they were hot, sometimes they were cold. And we had to stop periodically.” Buggy looked at her, pulling off his sock. “Why are you laughing, little shit?”

“It’s amazing to listen to one of the most whiny persons in the world complain about what others complain about.” Catherine smiled.

“Go to hell, honestly! I never whine!”

“You're always whining. When we returned from our adventure, you whined that after the celebration we hadn't had sex in three days. Then you whined that I forgot to cut off the crust on the sandwich and thought that I was upset with you. Then you whined when you realized that I wasn’t offended. Two days ago, you were whining that the sheets weren't soft enough.”

“In my defense, three and even two days without sex is a lot, cotton candy. You like tormenting me, right? Fuck, I’m so tired, I'm declaring a day off tomorrow.” He was rummaging through the shelves. “Where are my pants, cotton candy?”

“Third shelf from the bottom!” She pointed to the closet and continued jumping. “Hah! You can't do anything without me. You can't even find your pants!”

“I can find everything. I lived somehow before you!” He squatted down and looked at the shelf.

“Come on!” Catherine stopped jumping and crossed her arms. “You probably wore holey socks, walked around in dirty pants and ate something unknown. So since you have a day off tomorrow, maybe we can go for a walk tomorrow? I would hold your hand…” She made waves with her hands.

“I’ll think about it. Shit, I’m hungry!” He pulled on his pajama pants and turned to her.

Catherine couldn't resist and jumped on him with her legs. "Then take me to the kitchen, my hero!" She ran her fingers over his stubble. “Is it difficult to put on a t-shirt?”

“I thought you missed this view too.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the lips. She hugged him tightly around his neck, kicking her legs happily.

Buggy carried Catherine into the kitchen, grumbling for her to stop moving her legs and kissing his nose, although he secretly adored these manifestations of her feelings, and her lively personality. She knew that he was just groaning and would never admit that he liked it.

When they came to the kitchen, Catherine jumped off him and ran to the refrigerator.

"Sit down and relax, my love! Look what I bought for you!" She took two bottles of beer from the fridge. "Your favorite!"

"You are my best!" Buggy looked at her over his shoulder.

Catherine put the bottles on the table for him, kissed him on his cheek and ran to the stove. "And I cooked your favorite mac and cheese!" She took out a plate and began serving him a portion. "I also baked almond cookies. I bet your fangirls don't care about you that much!" She giggled.

“I don’t have fangirls, stop mocking me!” Buggy took a sip of beer. “I have enough of you pissing me off every time! Oh, by the way, I bought you a gift.” He detached his hand and sent it to the bag. “I couldn't leave you without a gift.” The hand brought a small package and gave it to Catherine's hand.

“I will never stop admiring your chop chop.” She smiled and carefully opened the package. “What's here? Raspberry marshmallows sticks, a bottle of wine. Yummy!! What is this?” She took out a small figurine of a bear sitting under a lilac bush. “Oh, my god! Buggy…”

“You told me how your father gave your mother lilacs. I saw this figurine and thought it would remind you of them. And I bought it. Ok, I stole it. Why are you looking at me like that?” Buggy asked with his mouth full, chewing pasta.

“You remember the story. This figure is amazing! And also this little bear. It's you and my parents. Can I put this on the shelf in the bedroom?” Catherine looked at him with wet eyes.

“Put it wherever you want.”

“I'll put a figurine next to a picture of you and me. Thank you!” Catherine ran up to him, placed the plate on the table and kissed him on the cheek. “I'm glad that you remember my words even when I'm dressed, asshole. Love, love, love you!!”

Catherine put the figurine on the table, plopped down on a chair next to Buggy, watched him happily wrap pasta on his fork and wash down his food with beer. She stroked his hair. "Tasty?"

Buggy nodded, narrowed his eyes contentedly, and kissed her on the lips.

“Don't come at me with your oily lips, clown!” Catherine wiped her mouth with a towel, hugged his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re finally home.”

“Cathie-pie, my hand.” Buggy turned his head slightly towards her, looking at her questioningly. “How would I eat if you grabbed my hand?”

“I don't care! Think of something.”

Buggy shrugged and separated the part of his hand that was holding the beer.

Catherine glanced at him. “Seriously? Instead of hugging me, you’re doing this?!”

“What? I’m hungry.” Buggy wrapped the pasta around his fork. Slurping, he finished eating, threw his fork on the table and took a sip of beer. "Everything was delicious! Thank you!" Buggy looked at Catherine and put his hand on her shoulder.

“You’re always welcome. Could you imagine, if you'd left me in the desert, you'd be eating nothing but breadcrumbs with water right now.” She kissed him on the nose.

“Fuck! I didn't leave you! You will remember this to me for the rest of your life, right?” Buggy stretched. "Fuck, my back. I suggest we move to the couch." He took the beer and extended his hand to her.

“Go to the living room, I’ll be right back, I’ll just put the plates in the dishwasher.” She gave him another peck on the nose and kicked him out into the living room.

Catherine poured herself a glass of wine and went to Buggy, “My little bear, I’m coming to you! Let’s spe~..” She entered the living room and saw him lying on the sofa, quietly snoring. Catherine smiled, tiptoed over to the snuffling body, covered Buggy with a blanket and kissed him on the head. “Tired. Okay! I'll go to the bath then.” She whispered to herself.

Catherine quietly went into the bedroom to get pajama pants and Buggy’s t-shirt, grabbed a glass of wine and went to the bathroom. She lit the candles, poured bath salts and added bubbles. Catherine took off her clothes and lay down in the hot water. She took a sip of the wine and closed her eyes, exhaling several times. She placed her hand on the edge of the bathtub and felt a hand on her arm.

“Oh, shit!!” Catherine jumped slightly, opened her eyes and saw Buggy sitting next to her and looking at her. “I almost had a heart attack! What are you doing here? You were sleeping on the couch.”

“You said that you would come to me. I opened my eyes, you weren’t there, and I went looking for you.” He blushed.

“I knew you missed me!” Catherine narrowed her eyes playfully.

“Fuck you! Yes, I missed you. Are you going to cut me into pieces for this? You know perfectly that you can slice me, you can dice me, and I~” Buggy let go of her hand.

“What? No! Don't be offended!” Catherine took his hand and pulled him towards her, kissing him on the lips. Buggy started giggling during the kiss. Catherine pulled her head back. “What's so funny, clown?”

“You're naked. I can see your breasts!”

“Oh, God! Are you 10 years old?”

“Hey! I’m over 30! But I’m always happy to see you naked. And here you are lying in the bathtub. All so sexy.” Buggy started giggling again.

“That’s it! Get out of here!” Catherine started pulling him out of the bathroom.

“But why? Can I sit next to you?” Buggy stared at her with pleading eyes.

“Go away, fucking clown!”

He sighed, stood up and walked out the door.

“Buggy!” Catherine immediately shouted.

“What?” His head looked into the bathroom.

“Seriously? I can't believe you just up and left.” Catherine straightened one leg above the water and winked at him. “Would you like to join me?”

“Two minutes ago you kicked me out, and now you’re calling me to join.” Buggy stood there in bewilderment.

“Well, if you don’t want to, fine. You could touch my naked body.” She lightly touched him with her foot.

“Oh, you’re a dirty girl, Catherine Mitchell!” Buggy grinned, closed the door and quickly took off his pants and underwear.

“Yes, I'm like that sometimes! But I still blame you for spoiling me.” Catherine looked him up and down, blushed, and moved to the other side of the bath.

“Yeah, yeah, a bad horny clown spoiled a decent little princess.” Buggy sat down in the bath, and she immediately leaned her back against his chest.

“Ts! I didn't give you permission to talk!” Catherine gently ran her fingertips along his cheek and, feeling that he placed his arms around her waist, put her hands on his arms. “Do you remember the rules that I introduced after last time?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Buggy buried his face in her hair and sighed.

“What happened, little bear?” She started stroking his fingers.

“Nothing. Glad to be home. Glad that someone is waiting for me at home. Glad I'm not alone anymore.” He mumbled into her hair.

“I’ll always wait f~!” Catherine's eyes widened as she felt one of his hands slowly begin to move down to her thigh. "What are you doing? Take your hand back!" She grabbed his hand and placed it on her waist. “Don't break the rules, Buggy! No chop chop things in this room! Or I’ll leave, and you’ll remain a grown man taking a bubble bath.”

“So unfair!” Buddy said sadly. “You're lying with me completely naked! I see your breasts! Your nip~!”

Catherine covered his mouth with her hand. “Shush! Stop saying these inappropriate things!”

Buggy removed her hand from his mouth and watched as she blushed when he started whispering in her ear. Her eyes widened.

“No! We won’t do anything! We’re taking a bath. Rules, Buggy!” There was already less confidence in Catherine's voice. “And keep your.. your.. you know.. little Buggy with you.” She closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder.

“You've never complained about him before! And he’s not little!” There was indignation in his voice.

“Oh, I knew you'd pick up on that, pervert!”

“I'm offended to the core, cotton candy. Well, tell me, what did you do without me?” Buggy asked quietly.

“Hm.. I went to the cinema, walked, sat in a cafe with a book and lay on the couch. And what did you do?” Catherine asked softly. She liked listening to his stories about everything and nothing, listening to how his days were spent.

“Well, we rehearsed a lot. I played cards with Cabaji. Won a bottle of beer. He often asks about you. I do not like it.” Buggy pouted.

“Someone is jealous!!” Catherine pressed her back closer.

“I’m not!”

“You're so jealous that you will turn even more gray with anger. He's just happy for you. That's all.” Catherine straightened her leg slightly. "Great, huh?"

Buggy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “What exactly? Your beautiful legs or your naked body?”

“No, asshole. Just lie there together.”

“Not so bad.” Buggy took her hand and kissed it. “I love you, my Cathie-pie.”

Catherine turned around and looked at him with round eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He kissed her hand again.

“You… You just said 'I love you' ahead of me for the first time.” Catherine ran her finger along his arm.

“Hey, I always tell you this!”

“You tell me this when we are... Well, you know. In bed. When you are... Well, you know. But at these moments you are a little crazy.” She stroked his cheek. “Love you too. And I’m so happy I met you.”

“Well, I'll thank myself for that. I'll thank myself for finding you.” Buggy said it with a proud grin and kissed her temple.

“You didn't find me. I was brought to you.” She squeezed his hand.

“It still counts, cotton candy. You've succumbed to my charm.”

Catherine rolled her eye. “Oh, for God's sake, there was no charm! You pissed me off!”

“I beg to differ, you're the one who stayed with me, and now you're lying naked with me in the bathtub.” Buggy kissed her temple again.

“Oh, fuck you, clown! Well, tell me who else you took a bath with. There were probably a lot of girls here. But do you remember? If you don't want to, don't tell me.” Catherine twirled a strand of his hair around her finger.

“There was no one here. Who will take a bath with me? The tub stood almost idle until someone pretty and cheerful occupied it. And I didn’t wash very often.” Buggy shrugged.

“Yes, I noticed. You rarely do this even now, sometimes I have to remind you to wash yourself.”

“I'm surprised that you willingly lie here with me. Do you remember when I brought you from the airport?” Buggy reddened.

“And you immediately dragged me into the bedroom, I remember.”

“Hey, you didn't mind. Our first time was good then, right?” He sighed happily. “I will probably remember this day even on my deathbed.”

Catherine glanced at Buggy and took another strand of his hair. “Do you even remember anything besides sex? Don't know. Our walks in the evenings, how you constantly steal the flowers for me.”

“Sorry, your naked body and moans knock the rest of the moments out of my memory.” He giggled.

“Idiot and liar. So... You wanted to say something.” Catherine felt how his hands started trembling a little.

“Well, in the morning I woke up, and to be honest, I thought that you had already packed your things and ran to the airport. Don't know. Realizing that that was your big mistake. But I saw you sleeping next to me, holding my hand. It was so strange. And it's still strange.” Buggy felt he became nervous and felt how Catherine started stroking his palm.

“First of all, clown, I wouldn't go anywhere. I'm sorry, but you did such a thing to me that it was hard to walk. Secondly, I love you. Third, thank you for telling me this. I’m so proud of you.” She ran her fingertips along his stubble. “You are so prickly. I like it.”

Catherine stretched out her leg and tried to grab the washcloth with her fingers, but went under the water. She quickly surfaced and laughed loudly. “Damn! I thought it would be sexy, but I’m like a manatee on ice.”

“You okay?” Buggy pulled her closer.

“Totally.” Catherine took a lock of his hair. "So long and beautiful. Oh, I want to wash your hair!"

Buggy looked at her questioningly. “No! I can wash my hair myself.”

“Ple-e-ease! You're tired from the road! You never let me do this!” Catherine looked at him with pleading eyes.

“I said no!”

“And I said yes!” She reached for the shampoo, stood up and heard him chuckle. “What amused you again?”

“You're all naked.” Buggy scratched his nose. “Your body. So much better than I even remembered.”

“Oh m~. Stop grabbing my ass!” She slapped his hands, sat behind him and wet his hair. “Shit! I can swim in your bathtub like a whale. See?” Catherine lay down in the water, spun around twice and laughed loudly. “Why do you need such a huge one?”

Buggy laughed as he watched her splash her hands in the water. “Well, I was hoping that one day I would end up here with a very beautiful red-haired whale who would fill all surfaces with fucking scented candles and oils, and would torture me in every possible way.”

“It's not torment, clown. It's called caring. I like taking care of you. And I saw you smelling my candles.” Catherine settled behind him and let his hair down.

Buggy exhaled heavily.

“What happened, little bear?”

“Nothing. I'm still surprised that someone doesn't run away from me early in the morning. That I see someone in the morning dishevelled and wearing stupid pants with animals on them.” He closed his eyes.

“This someone in pants is also very happy to see you nearby.” Catherine wet his hair, poured some shampoo into her hand, and gently ran it through Buggy’s hair. "If it's unpleasant, tell me." She washed each strand carefully, and humming softly, she noticed a slight smile on his face. She gently massaged his head and then ran her hands through the strands. Every time Catherine wet his hair, it changed to a more emerald shade. She couldn't contain her delight and kept saying “wow”. She gently ran her hands through his hair, untangling small tangles with her fingers and rinsed them again.

“It was worth going away for a couple of days for that.” Buggy chuckled. He sat with his eyes closed and a slight grin on his face.

“I'm done with your hair, my love. Now let's wash your face. Can I?” She watched him make a face, but nodded. She took some lotions from the shelf and sat on his lap. Buggy chuckled as she began to gently rub the moistened pad over her face.

“What's so funny?”

“You're sitting on me naked.” Buggy wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You’re disgusting!” Catherine immediately began wiping his lips. “That's it! Shut your dirty mouth!” She gently moved the discs over his face, removing layer by layer of all his makeup. “Here you are! Hi!”

“Hi.”

Catherine couldn't resist and kissed him on the lips. He immediately pulled her closer.

“I missed you.” She kissed his forehead and wrinkled her nose slightly.

“Same thing.” Buggy answered in a whisper.

“Okay, it’s time to get out of the bath. Let's lie on the couch, drink alcohol, eat chips, and watch stupid shows. Good, huh? I’ll just rinse off in the shower.” Catherine kissed him on his cheek.

“And what about me?” Buggy looked at her questionably.

“And you go to the shower stall, clown. Otherwise, our joint bath will end badly.” Catherine blushed.

“You understand that this day will end like this anyway?” He winked at her.

“Get out!” She gently pushed him out of the bath.

Buggy took a brief shower to ensure he did not miss anything and sat next to the tub, keeping his gaze on Catherine.

She took out a washcloth and shower gel and, stretching her leg again, began to slowly move the washcloth along her leg.

“God, this is such a turn on!” He said quietly.

Catherine noticed how he began to fidget. “Like it?” She winked.

“You're playing a dangerous game, Catherine Mitchell!” Buggy tried to hold on by crossing one leg over the other leg. “Please, can I join?”

“Na-ah! Just watch, don't touch!” She bit her lower lip, narrowed her eyes playfully, and continued moving the washcloth.

“It's unfair! Do you even understand what you're doing, woman?” He swallowed. “Please! I wanna join and help you!”

“Someone is going to die.” Catherine slowly moved the washcloth along her other leg. “Patience, my silly clown!” She ran the washcloth over her arms and back, periodically glancing at how Buggy became redder and tried his best to hide his quickening breathing.

Catherine quickly rinsed off and was about to grab a towel when she felt Buggy’s hand on her wrist. "Hey! What the hell is this?"

Catherine slowly turned around and saw Buggy climbing into her bathtub. “You've already taken off your panties, you scoundrel. What about rules?”

“I don't use chop chop, see?” He showed her his hands, pressing his entire naked body lightly against hers. “Technically, I'm not breaking anything.”

Catherine placed one foot on the edge of the tub and ran her fingertips through the hair on his chest. “Did someone lose their temper, huh?”

“Because one little shit is behaving badly.” Buggy kissed her on the lips and felt her hand run down his stomach. “Very, very badly.”

“Stop talking, fucking clown. I'm standing here nak~.” She didn’t have time to finish the sentence.

Catherine swifty wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her into a searing, biting kiss. The growl in his throat grew louder with each passing second.

“Oh, fuck! I missed you!” Buggy said in a low, husky voice. His hands gripped her hips and shifted her up. Catherine gasped into his kiss, which shifted from soft and tender to passionate very quickly.

“I knew that, a little creep!” She leaned forward, gripped his bottom lip between her teeth, and gave him a rough, biting kiss. Catherine felt it. Felt that she wanted to lose control in the tension of his arms as he held her.

She moaned through the kiss when Buggy thrust up into her. One long, fast stroke that made her feel like she was breaking into little pieces. His hands gripped her at the hips tighter and moved her up and down. With every stroke of him, they were getting closer to the pleasure they both desired. Every movement made her arch and moan like a cat. Catherine found herself kissing and biting at every single inch of his skin. Buggy’s lips nibbled at every part of her body that he could reach, causing tiny bruises on her skin as their breathing and movements got increasingly chaotic with each upward stroke. Buggy arched up into her, unable to stop himself. His fingers pressed into the skin of her hips, an animalistic sound pouring forth from him, as she pressed further down. His name was the only word on her lips.

“Say it. Say you’re mine,” Buggy thrust deeper, and she whined at the feeling of him inside her. She’d known he belonged there from the first time she’d taken him in herself. “Tell me I’m not gonna lose you.”

Catherine breathed and kissed him. “I promise, you can’t lose me. I’m yours.”

“Tell me,” with his every word, his every move became more aggressive. “Tell me only I can protect you, that only I can take care of you. Say it.”

“You can protect me,” Catherine looked into his eyes, placing her hands on the back of his head. “Only you can take care of me, I promise.” She kissed him.

“Let me love you,” Buggy fucked her deep, hard, greedy. “Say it. Tell me that only I can love you, that it’s safe to love you.”

“You can love me. It's safe. I never hurt you. I promise.” She could barely say anything, pulling him closer.

Buggy moaned against her lips and fucked her, never slowing down, making her orgasm never really go away. He kissed her, pressed down deeply inside her then, causing her back to arch and her legs to tighten around his hips.

She moaned near his lips. “I need to feel you, please, please..”

“You’re mine, Cathie-pie.” He kissed her again, started fucking her a little harder and faster, driving the pleasure closer.

“I’m so close, don't stop.” Catherine felt him press deeply and pulse inside her, stimulating her orgasm. “Just a little mo~. A lit~. Fuck…”

Buggy let out one deep groan, feeling they came together, his body went slack for a moment before, and he buried his face in the crock of her neck. He was silent for a while.

“You okay?” Catherine asked, stroking his head. She felt every beat of his heart.

“Yeah. Fuck, it was great, right?” He kissed her forehead.

“Are you asking for a compliment, a little brat?” Catherine said mockingly and pecked him on his lips.

“Are you sure you're okay? Didn't I hurt you?” Buggy examined her body carefully.

“Why are you asking? What happened?” Catherine stroked his shoulder.

“I don't know. I feel like I overdid a little.”

“Well, you were extremely talkative today. But everything was amazing.” She noticed his worried eyes. “What's wrong, Buggy? Are you worried about something?”

“No! I mean yes. Tell me you meant all that.” He said quietly and looked into her eyes.

“What? Are you still afraid of s~.”

“Cathie-pie, please.”

“Of course, my blue-haired love.” Catherine gently kissed him on his lips. “I meant every word. I promise. You can protect me. I know you will protect me. Come on, you saved me from the cage! And I won't hurt you. And I won't leave you. And you're safe with me. And you know why?” She stroked his hair. “Because I love you so, so much, my Buggy Bear.”

“Love you too, my cotton candy. Hey, listen... Can I ask a question?”

“I guess the fact that you're still inside me doesn't give me the right to refuse?” She chuckled. “Ask me anything you want.” She ran her fingers over his stubble.

“I’m hungry again, and I missed your pancakes. Will you make me some?”

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ideas-4-stories · 10 months

Note

It's fluff-o-clock!

Even though he has countless devoted followers and his crew has told him they'd rather die than leave him, Buggy feels alienated and left out when he has to go to social events outside of Karai Bari Island. You'd never know it - he still acts as overconfident and egotistical as he always does - but the whole time he can feel judging eyes on him. He knows they don't take him seriously. He's just the weird little pirate who got lucky, no special skills or insane amounts of power in sight. That's what he's convinced their thinking, at least.

Crocodile and Mihawk, who have grown quite skilled at detecting when their beloved clown is hiding behind a facade of bravado, call him to a meeting. The two of them know something is off the moment Buggy walks into the room, and after some questioning and piecing the puzzle together they're able to discern the truth. Neither of them say anything about it. They just move on to actual business in a way that lets Buggy know they do care but they need time to think.

Fast forward a month or so and Cross Guild has been invited to a party that all the most powerful pirates with the highest bounties will be at. Crocodile and Mihawk finally put their plan into action a few hours before the event. They "make" (those chosen would have done it regardless but our resident goths have a reputation to keep) some of Buggy's most trusted crew members help him get ready, putting his hair in an elaborate style and ensuring his makeup is flawless. Once they complete their task Croc and Hawk swoop in to take their place; they worked together to design an outfit for Buggy that's as "flashy" as he loves while still being fancy. As he finishes getting ready they present him with the final pieces - two label pins shaped like Crocodile's hook and Yoru. They chose pins so that Buggy could still wear all his finest jewelry while still having his boyfriend's claim on him clear for all to see.

Once they're at the party Crocodile and Mihawk never leave Buggy's side; in fact, they subtly turn any attention given to them towards the clown. "Your new cannonballs do sound very formidable, but Buggy could do twice the damage with a ball half the size." "What a fearsome sounding crew. I wonder if they would be enough to beat Buggy and his hundreds of followers." Little compliments sprinkled in the conversation to hype up the blue-haired man. Between Crocodile's social skills and Mihawk's sneakiness, nobody realizes they're spending far more time showing interest in Buggy than conversing with his more powerful partners. The clown actually feels truly confident and like he's being treated as (somewhat) of an equal for once.

At the end of the night they meet in Crocodile's room dressed in their sleep clothes. Buggy's put the two pins in a small box shaped like a treasure chest to show his partners how much he treasures their gifts. They've all settled down and are about to fall asleep when the clown mutters one final comment. "Thanks for being by my side tonight, but you guys know you're as flashily great as I am, right?" He's out before the two can think of a reply.

It's the depression and poor self-esteem the clown shouldn't have because it hinders people From what I've seen it's hard to be someone that many people can rely on them.

Wonder how long did it take for them to fully understand their clown? Probably around six months or less... Who knows 🤷 Anyway, I'm thinking they found a way to make sure Buggy doesn't know that they pieced the puzzle together. That would be cool.

A party that has some of the strongest pirates with the highest bounties... The Straw-hats will be there... Oh boy, that will be a weird conversation to have, won't it! Anyway, yes them being right beside Buggy. Just destroying other people's achievements for Buggy!

That is just so cute!!! Buggy being more confident in himself, acting more like he was when he was younger. Not hiding behind a mask. As well as looking his best, wearing pins that represent Mihawk and Crocodile are always so cute!!!

Buggy putting the pins in a box, that's probably one of his most favorite treasures is so cute!!!

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princess-glassred · 4 months

Text

A short interaction I wrote between Henry and Butch about Patrick

Tw: Bruises, abuse, blood, cuts, Butch Bowers, toxic henpat

It was 11 AM on a saturday, and the Bowers house was still dark as a sewer drain. The warm sunlight from the windows hit the floor to illuminate the room, but even natural sunlight was not nearly enough to make the pig sty of a house feel like a home. Today was like any other day in the Bowers residence, everything was right where it was supposed to be, as if Henry and Butch had been plopped down in predesignated spots like dolls. They sat on the couch together, not talking, entranced by the cold blue glow of the tv. Nothing good was ever on tv at this time, not that public access television was ever that good to begin with, but at least on late nights you could find some decent adult programming. Right now it was all shitty kids shows, probably ran by people who shouldn't be within 25 feet from a school zone, so Butch and Henry were stuck learning colors and watching unfunny clowns preform for screaming kids on a bench until around 6 o' clock.

Henry wasn't too focused on the tv though, he was watching, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was much more focused on the bowl of oatmeal he was stuffing in his face, almost like he expected Butch to reach over and take it from him. He was pretty famished though, his stomache had been rumbling since he woke up, and lord knows Butch Bowers would never cook breakfast. That was a woman's job, and when there wasn't a woman around to do the job, it was Henry's. They sat in silence for a little while longer, until Butch suddenly turned his head to look Henry up and down. As per usual, Butch's eyes were only ever locked into one specific emotion whenever they landed on Henry: contempt. Suddenly his eyes stopped on one specific part of Henry's body, transfixed on his right wrist that he was currently using to shovel strawberry oatmeal down his throat. Butch cocked his head to the side and squinted at Henry. "You're not very sneaky son." He said plainly, and right on cue, Henry's entire body went stiff.

Despite the vauge statement, his son's suddenly panicked face indicated that he knew exactly what he was talking about, which only made it worse when he inevitably tried to deny it. "What-" Henry coughed, nearly choking on his food as he put his spoon back in the empty bowl with a clink. "What are you talking about?" He said, trying and failing to hide his terror. "I raised you, I know when somethings different about you. Your stupid braclets are on one side of your arm now, you've never done that before. You're hiding something." He grumbled, grabbing an open can of beer from the end table and taking a swig.

Henry blinked in shock then tried to deny it again with a nervous laugh "That doesn't mean-" but suddenly, Butch lunged for him, and Henry instinctively flinched. Fortunately for Henry, this did not result in a punch or slap like it usually would, but Butch did grab his wrist and pull it over to his side of the sofa. His muscular calloused hands squeezed down hard enough that Henry wanted to yell "you're hurting me!" but stopped himself. Butch wasn't a man who could listen to reason, and in fact, to Butch, "you're hurting me" was basically like saying "Good job!" and would have encouraged him to do it more. He used his fingers to scooch Henry's bracelets down his arm, his fingernails and the thick leather of the bracelets causing even more pain to him as they inched down his arm. After what felt like an eternity of burning, scratching, and writhing, the pain finally stopped, but Henry's shame quickly took it's place as Butch stumbled upon his secret, and there was no way for Henry to hide it anymore.

There were big bruises on his wrists, and even a big cut on the back, like some one wanted to cut him but didn't wanna risk slitting a vein open. Henry had attempted to cover up what the bracelets couldn't hide with make up yesterday, but that was now rubbed off too, and even then, Butch could tell. Seeing bruises on Henry was typical, in fact, Butch was often the cause of these bruises, but Butch was always very careful to only do it on the torso where they could be easily hidden. Whoever caused this had been sloppy though, real sloppy, maybe even wanted them to see the bruises for some weird reason. For a brief moment he considered the possibility that Henry might have done this himself, but that was quickly dismissed. Henry was too much of a pussy to ever hurt himself, he could barely handle Butch's beatings with out whining. Besides, Henry knew if he did some embarrassing cry baby attention seeking shit like that then Butch would have to buckle down and give him something to really cry about.

Eventually Butch unclenched his grip and allowed Henry to break away, leaving him to cower and rub his wrist on the far end of the sofa like an abused housewife. A twinge of shame and pain flashed across his face as he rubbed and whimpered like a scared dog, something Butch found both pitiful and incredibly annoying. Those bruises on his wrist could only be from one person in this stupid town, Henry might have been a little pansy but he was big for his age, so the only person who could hurt him like this would have to be some one taller than him, and more importantly, some one who he'd actually let hurt him. Butch crossed his arms and frowned, making the already humiliated and scared Henry feel even worse.

"So, who did that?" he asked, not a hint of concern for Henry's well being. "I... don't know." Henry mumbled, letting his voice go a little soft like he always did when his dad caught him in a bad situation. "But it was probably you, sometimes you get-" "Bullshit." Butch interuppted, insulted by the accusation. Butch might have been a crazy abusive drunk, but he could always recognize his own work on Henry, and those bruises were not his. "It's him, isn't it? It's from that Hockstetter fag you hang out with. I know it is." Butch said, so disgusted it was a miracle he didn't spit in his fucking eye.

Henry looked down to the floor, no longer able to deny the truth, but still desperate to cling onto his last shreds of dignity. Henry groaned, growing a little angry and defensive "it's not a big deal! He said he was sorry..." that was a blatant lie though, and Butch knew it, Patrick never apologized for anything unless it benifited him in some way. He'd apologize to adults anytime he got in trouble, but he never meant it, he was just very good at manipulating others to get what he wanted, and those manipulative tendencies leaked into every facet of his life, including sex. He got sex through manipulative means and the sex itself was a form of manipulation, but Henry just couldn't find a way to ever say no to him. Everything they did seemed to cross a boundry, and yet, everytime, Henry still found himself asking if it was really bad enough to warrant putting his foot down. It always started the exact same way too, first it would be pretty normal, then it'd get rough, and then it'd get violent, and then it'd be over before it ever really started, and Henry was beginning to like it less and less each time.

"Do you have pig shit for brains, son?" Butch questioned, catching Henry so off gaurd he thought he misheard him at first. "Huh?" he stammered, and Butch sighed at his own sons stupidity "I only ask 'cause i'd never be fucking brain dead enough to be friends with a guy who beat the shit out of me." he continued, getting up with a grunt to go get himself his third beer from the fridge. Whatever, it was certainly better than asking him to go get it, but it did kinda seem like the only reason he went to fetch it himself was so he didn't have to look at Henry anymore. To anyone else that would have sounded almost cartoonishly cruel, but for Henry that was just the kind of shit his dad liked to do, and had been doing to him for years.

Henry lowered his head and clenched his fists, beginning to quietly seethe with anger he would no doubt let out on Mike Hanlon or Bill Denborough later on. He shook ever so slightly as his rage boiled inside him "well- you hit mom and expected her to stay..." He mumbled, regret hitting him like a truck the instant the worlds left his mouth. Butch spontaneously let the beer in his hands slip out of his fingers, sending the bottle plummeting to the floor where it bursted into a big mess of booze and broken glass. The sound was so loud and out of nowhere, Henry jumped from his seat in fright and skittered away from the couch. He'd been afraid of that sound for a while now, ever since Butch got a little too drunk one night and threw an empty bottle at him, he'd found any kind of breaking glass noise horrifying. He thankfully missed him, but it was still a pretty fucking awful thing for a kid to experience, and it left some lasting damage on his psyche.

Butch whipped his head around to glance back at Henry while he knelt down to the broken glass, a difficult feat for some one as large and out of shape as him, but one he still managed to accomplish regardless. "That's different, women need to be hit so they don't get out of line, if they don't get hit they don't learn. You're just a fucking idiot who thinks when some one beats you it means they like you." butch shouted over his shoulder, poking at the shards of glass but never daring to actually clean it. Henry nervously swallowed and stared off to the side, racking his brain as he tried to understand it all. He furrowed his brows as his lip quivered, unsure of what to say but not quite content with the awful silence that filled the room.

He sighed and hung his head, still shaking and still silently enraged. "Yeah... wonder where I could have possibly gotten a stupid idea like that..." Henry muttered, letting his gaze drift down to the floor and away from his father. Suddenly, Butch rose up and put his hands on his hips, his face twisting into a repulsed grimace. At this point, Henry fully expected to be screamed at, beaten, and kicked out of the house, all in that order, but butch managed to do none of those. Instead, he just stood and stared at him in scornful silence to show his disappointment.

He glowered at him, balling his hands into tight fists ready to strike and shook his head "you know what? I take it back." said Butch, breifly catching Henry's attention again with the smallest bit of false hope. "Maybe this hockstetter kid has the right idea about you! after all, you were always a bit girly, maybe you need a good smacking every now to knock some snese into you." He elaborated, and that small bit of false hope Henry had flew right out the window, because of course it did. His father turned back to the broken glass and groaned, gesturing at Henry to look at it and do something. "God, Why don't you do something actually useful and clean this shit up? I'm sick of looking at it." he "asked", but really it was more of an order, an order he knew damn well Henry would never have the guts to say no to.

He hesitated there for a moment, shifting his weight from side to side on each foot before eventually giving up and giving into his fathers command. Even when Henry complied Butch didn't even have the decency to stick around and see him clean, he grabbed his coat and ran out the front door with out a word, probably off to go get wasted somewhere else. But that was fine, it didn't matter if he left or not, I mean, it did kind of hurt but Henry didn't really care, just like how he didn't care if Patrick hurt him sometimes. He was used to hurting, in the same way he was used to hurting others. Henry was durable. He was strong. He could handle himself just fine with or without his fathers input.... or at least, that's what Henry liked to think to himself. In reality, if all of that were true, then Henry wouldn't be in this situation right now. Groveling down on his knees, sniffling back sobs as he scooped little pieces of broken glass into a dust pan, the tiniest bits of blood dropping down his fingers with each new bit he tossed...

#it 2017 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #gay clown movie #it stephen king #it 2019 #bowers gang #henry bowers #butch bowers #oscar bowers #oscar butch bowers #henpat #patrick hockstetter #patrick x henry

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oscconfessions · 6 months

Note

A while ago I started putting a soft g-sound on any word that began with a "ck" noise. Changing word pronunciations like "clock" into "glock" and "clown" into "glown". I try to be subtle about it so it often sounds in-between the two consonants, a little hard to tell unless you're listening for it. Anyway, I never really knew where I got it from, just did it cause it felt and sounded nice (also it was really funny). I assumed some character was originally doing it but couldn't quite remember who.

It remained a mystery until I watched a BFB clip and heard that darn cloud speak. I instantly knew. It was him. I've been mimicking part of an accent from none other than Cloudy. I've never really liked or disliked him, yet I habitually incorporate his way of talking into my own speech. I'm not sure how to feel about this. It is weird to speak like a cartoon cloud? Do I kin Cloudy now?? Should I stop doing the speech quirk??? I don't really know.

One of the... Upsides? Downsides? That's resulted from this is that one of the words I use as a response has become really really funny. Y'know how some people drop the "o" and just say 'kay? So...

"Hey, can you grab me a pencil?"

"gay"

"It's raining outside by the way."

"gay"

"How are you feeling?"

"o'gay"

Honestly I want to keep doing it just for this alone. It's really really really funny. Even if I've turned into Cloudy-IRL, I can now say gay in confirmation to things.

#confession #/bfdi #/bfdi/cloudy

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reisakumaproducer · 6 months

Text

Moonlight - A Wataru Hibiki x Reader Fic

Warning: This fic is a parody fic and not meant to be taken seriously. I do not recommend reading if you are looking for a serious Wataru x Reader fanfic.

Summary: You are going on your first date with Wataru Hibiki! As you spend time with Wataru, you can't help but worry that the brilliant idol might just be out of your reach. (Takes place during the ! era)

You fidget with a loose strand of your (h/c) hair as you stare out the window. Sunlight poured through the window, illuminating your living room and causing your face to glow brightly. Today was a very special day for you. Today was the day you would meet with Wataru Hibiki.

Yumenosaki Academy was known for having weirdos and Wataru was no exception. You were just a humble student from the general course when you noticed the idol practicing on the rooftop. His loud voice and imposing stature captivated you, like a siren luring in a sailor. Wataru did not take notice of you at first. He was wrapped in the world of theater, reciting poems and lines that you recognized from your Shakespeare unit in English class. You felt your cheeks blush when he finally noticed you. As you spent time with the theatrical idol, you became close with him. Now you are on your first date with Wataru Hibiki.

It was six o’ clock, and Wataru had not shown up at your front door step yet. You sigh, realizing he probably abandoned you. Then suddenly you hear a loud noise coming from outside of your house. You rush outside, your (h/c) hair blowing furiously in the wind. The wind was coming from a blimp in the air.

“Ahahahahah!” you hear a gleeful laugh coming from the blimp. Your heart skips a beat as you recognize that laugh. “My beloved (y/n) ! It is I, your very own Hibiki Wataru!”

Wataru jumps from the blimp and lands on the ground. He stands up as though nothing happened to him, smiling at you with his hands on his hips. “Fufufu, you should check your right pocket! You will find a pleasant surprise in there from your very own idol! ☆”

You put your hand in your right pocket and pull out a bouquet of red spider lilies. “Oh Wataru! This is lovely. You shouldn’t have.” You smell the bouquet and smile at the pleasant aroma that floods your nostrils. Wataru plucks a flower from the bouquet and places it behind your ear. He bows.

“Today is the day we embark on a new journey of love! Let us take the first step in this new chapter in our lives.”

A ladder from the blimp descends in front of you. You stifle your laugh, appreciating Wataru’s comedic timing. He takes your hand and guides you toward the ladder. He helps you climb up, your hands shaking as you slowly ascend into the air. Wataru notices your anxiety and sings a calming melody as you climb. You feel a tingling sensation on your cheeks as you realise he is looking out for you.

You get into Wataru’s blimp. He takes your hand and you follow him onto the couch. You both sit down, and he lets you lie on his shoulder as the blimp flies into the evening sky. You rest against his silky hair, letting it sift between your fingers. Wataru strokes your back as you do this, causing you to smile as you look into his lavender eyes.

“Your eyes are so beautiful. I can just swim into them for hours on end,” you tell him. You immediately feel a pang of embarrassment in your stomach. Swim in his eyes? Why would you say that! You don’t even know how to properly swim. Wataru chuckles, ignoring your flustered face.

“Your eyes are like the night sky itself! I can see the reflection in them, like the stars across the darkness. Even clowns can be enamored by your beauty.”

Your cheeks turn red. You lean in for a kiss when suddenly, you notice the lighting in the blimp starts to change. As the sun started to set, the moon started to peak from beneath the clouds, casting its milky rays through the blimp’s window. Wataru’s hair started to glow. It was like it was the moon itself, illuminating the darkness of the blimp. You wanted to play with it again. You want to feel his soft strands brush against your fingertips. Yet Wataru was like the moonlight. No matter how much you wanted to bask in it and have it shine down upon you, you could never have it in your possession. You cannot grab onto moonlight, just like how Wataru’s hair would sift through your fingers if you tried to grab onto it. The moon can comfort you with its light while all you can do is admire it from afar.

Tears roll down your cheek at this realization. Wataru notices your tears and shakes his head. He uses a strand of his sentient hair to wipe your cheeks. His hair feels soft against your delicate skin.

“Do not cry, my dear (y/n). It is a clown’s job to entertain, and a clown is doing a poor job if their audience is drowning in tears,” Wataru quietly whispers. “Your face is very beautiful in the moonlight.”

Your tears dry. You realize you can reach the moon, even if it feels far away.

Wataru stops the blimp over a forest. He helps you descend the rope ladder. You find yourself in a clearing surrounded by tall pine trees and a pond. There is a wooden arch bridge over the pond and a willow tree casting its leaves over the water. You feel a cool breeze flutter through the area. You take Wataru’s hand, his firm fingers interlocking with yours.

Wataru leads you onto the bridge. Its wooden surface creaks with each step you take. You both admire the moon shining into the water below. You lean against Wataru’s shoulder.

“Wataru, I’ve been meaning to show you something,” You tell him.

“Fufufu, it is my turn to be surprised! What are you planning on showing me, (y/n)?”

“I have been practicing a poem to recite to you. I want to get better at acting. Would you like to hear it?”

Wataru nods his head. You take a deep breath and recite your love poem for him.

“Oh Wataru my dearest,

You are the fairest.

You are like the Sans

to my Nagito who dances

With glee with his love

Who fits him like a glove.

Oh Wataru my moon,

You make me swoon

I love you.”

You deliver the poem in a completely monotone voice. Wataru claps his hands and sheds a few tears.

“Amazing! The purest of words from your heart have been delivered. I wish I could return them but atlas, I am not good at acting without a script.”

Wataru then kneels down in front of you and retrieves his mask from his back pocket, as though he was proposing to you. This is the purest form of Wataru’s love for you. You reach out to touch the mask, when suddenly you hear a loud crack.

The wooden boards of the bridge break and you fall into the pond. Wataru uses his sentient hair to reach for you. You grab onto his strands, but his hair sifts through your fingers. You become drenched in the cold pond waters. The moonlight shines above you as you desperately try to tread the water.

#enstars #ensemble stars #wataru hibiki #idk what else to tag #enstars wataru #my writing #hibiki wataru #i wrote this back in august so a long time ago and am now reposting it for april fools #sorry if wataru is ooc in this

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bun-nny-nny · 23 days

Text

FAT SHANE FIC HEHEHE

i have no name for it but here is a fic of Shane and my farmer having a good time tw: NSFW(mdni), fluff, angst just for a bit, family death mention please be gentle with me.... i may write more or do more fanfics for fandoms...

Shane had been home almost all day, and his husband, Bunny, had been working outside on the farm, unable to come inside and spend time with the other man. He spent his time looking through his old boxes, which Shane had filled with every moment he kept from his childhood; there were red and blue ribbons won from the junior soccer team he was on and some pretty large trophies that had been won from when he was on the varsity soccer team in high school. Shane ran his thick, calloused fingers along the cold metallic trophy, the gold on it glistening from the light in the room. The feeling of the cold metal against his warm touch was a feeling he remembered well but now felt like a distant memory. Looking at these items gave him a tight knot in his stomach; it felt like his insides were a balloon being tied and knotted by a clown. His brows furrowed as he placed the ribbons and trophies aside, digging deeper and deeper into the boxes, and that's when he found it.

Shane's rough hands brushed against the book he had found deep within the box, trailing his fingers with his slightly dirty and chewed-on nails over the indented cover, brandishing his high school's old emblem and the year of his graduating class. It had been a long time since he had thought of his yearbook; in all honesty, he had forgotten he had even gotten one, probably forced to get it out of guilt from a family member saying something along the lines of, "If you don't get it you'll regret it for the rest of your life!" which was most likely said by Marnie. He let out an unamused huff as he pulled it out of the box; once it hit the floor, he stared at it for a bit as if he didn't know if he should open it. It was like he was scared of the memories and feelings that this book held within it, waving its power over him as it sat on his dirty floor.

Eventually, the man gave in, his hands quickly taking the book between them and opening the pages at lightning speed as if to rip the metaphorical bandaid off as fast as he could. He flipped through page after page like a man on a mission, scanning each row of each face in the book till he found his own. He grimaced, looking at himself. He was much slimmer back then, and a big smile was on his face. He looked proud of himself, a feeling he hadn't felt for a while. The ecstatic look on his face only made him want to wallow and rot away, thinking about a past he could no longer be a part of. His eyes went from his photo to the blank spot underneath, and his heart sank; he remembered how his parents had passed away before he could pick a senior quote, and their passing had affected the man so much that he gave up on everything at that point. The blank space stared back at him like it was mocking him; quickly, he flipped away from it, trying hard not to wallow so hard in his missed happiness due to him picking up the bottle out of grief.

He turned through page after page again until he found the only other photo of him; he stood there proudly with his soccer team. He was the person in front, happily holding a soccer ball in the crook of his arm, his hand resting on his hip to keep it there. He looked much different, with no hair on his face or a 5'o clock shadow, and his eyes filled with a joyous light that you only ever see when he looks at his husband or their chickens. He had been much skinnier, with hair longer than now and little to no dark circles under his eyes. He groaned and threw the book to the ground, standing up quickly. Shane stomped over to the full-length mirror in his room. He looked at himself, the dark bags under his eyes, how his hair thinned out less luscious than it was before, and then his eyes moved down to his body, looking at the fat and slight beer gut that he accumulated over the years of constant drinking and poor diet. He lifted his shirt a bit, grabbing at the fat of his stomach, his stomach covered in an abundance of hair purple just like the hair on his head, and long stretch marks around his hips and gut.

Bunny entered the house at that moment, his medium-length brown hair a bit tousled and askew; his face had a bit of dirt on it from how hard he was at work. As he traveled to the bedroom, he undid his suspenders and unbuttoned his shirt, showing his chubby upper body and the dark hair that ran down his stomach cut off by his black pants. Once in the bedroom, he kicks off his boots and removes his dirty work pants, but he hears Shane's loud groan coming from his room before he can unbutton them. Immediately worried, he rushed into his room, calling, "Hey sunshine, you doin' alright?" Shane turned to Bunny and immediately put down his shirt, "I… I uh yeah… I'm fine.." he said, refusing to look his husband in the eyes, too embarrassed of himself. His lips set in a frown. As Bunny stepped further into the room, he looked over the dirty floor of Shane's room, which was even more crowded by the boxes he had pulled out, all the contents lying on the ground scattered around. "You know you can tell me anything…come on, look at me." As Bunny got closer, he reached up to Shane, taking his chin between his gloved fingers and forcing the taller man to look down at him. Once they made eye contact, he could see the misery that filled his husband's eyes, and it made his heart feel like it was going to break. "it's nothing. It's just...stupid shit...ya' know?" being this close, he could smell the joja cola on his breath.

Bunny looked at the bottom of Shane's shirt, seeing how it rested a bit above his basketball shorts. He raised a brow at the other. "Were you checking yourself out?" he asked gently, not wanting to sound like he was judging the other man in any way. Shane nodded slowly. He looked like he might cry, his eyes glassy. It was an unusual sight; something must have upset him.

"Not feelin' good bout yourself today?" asked Bunny

Shane nodded yet again, leaning into Bunny's gentle touch. Bunny moved his hand to caress one of his cheeks, gently stroking it with his thumb, and stepped closer to the man so much that both men's fronts pressed together. Shane's face had a light dusting of pink as he looked down at his lover. He saw his bare chest, his heart racing, and marveled at the slightly slimmer man's body. He loved Bunny more than anything more than words could ever describe. Any time Bunny touched his body, he felt a tingling sensation spread across his skin; even when his soft palms and calloused fingertips were under the fabric of his gloves, he still felt the heat radiating from the other, making him let out a soft sigh.

Bunny smiled, pleased by the sound. He brushed his thumb gently over Shane's cheek, his other hand finding its way under Shane's jacket, slowly pulling it down his arms and letting it fall to the ground, pooling around the back of Shane's legs. Bunny pulled away, which made Shane whimper at the loss of his touch, making Bunny chuckle lightly, "Hey, it's okay…just takin' off my gloves, okay?"

Shane nods yet again, focused on Bunny's motions, not speaking any words. He watches as Bunny brings a gloved hand to his mouth, biting the tip of a finger and pulling it off, letting it drop to the floor and doing the same to the other. Bunny looked up, making eye contact with his lover, a smile spreading across his lips as he saw the pink on his cheeks grow darker.

"Go sit on the couch for me, okay?" his tone was gentle, yet he knew it was a demand, not a question.

Without a word, Shane started, walking out of the room and into their living room, plopping down on the old blue couch Bunny had for years and refusing to get rid of it for "sentimental reasons." The cushions sank a bit as he sat down, making him nervous. Was the indent he was making on the old couch too much? Was he becoming unattractive to his farmer due to his increased size? His mind started racing as he sat alone in silence, his big hands on his knees, grip tightening with each passing moment. After a couple of moments, he saw the bathroom door open and out stepped Bunny, hair now better kempt. He wore a black shirt with an alien on it and some brown shorts, and his face was clean of dirt. No matter what he wore, Shane always found him to be breathtaking.

With no words, Bunny stepped in front of Shane, removing his hands from his knees and sitting on the other man's lap so that their fronts were facing. "You know...I think you look perfect like this," he said softly, his soft palms cupping Shane's cheeks, forcing him to make eye contact. The touch made a shiver run down Shane's spine. "Now you know I'm nowhere near that.." said Shane, trying to look away, but Bunny immediately reprimanded him.

"Look at me." It was an order, and Shane submitted to it, forcing himself to keep eye contact with his farmer. Shane could see the pure love and adoration that filled his eyes, but there was something more, a spark of desire that ignited the flame deep within his stomach.

"I have told you this...so many times..." said Bunny as he trailed his hands down Shane's chest, traveling down down down till they stopped at the bottom of his shirt. He pressed his cheek to Shane's and whispered, in a low voice, dripping with lust, "You are the sexiest man alive to me, Shane." his hot breath danced against the shell of Shane's ear, making him let out a gasp, eyes shutting. Hands now wrapping around Bunny's back tightly. Being this close, Bunny could smell Shane, letting himself take a whiff and enjoying how he smelled like pizza, cola, and musk, a better alternative than how he used to smell like a bar floor. It made him smile happily, "You're a good man....a kind man even..." he said softly, giving the other's ear lobe a light nibble and receiving a soft groan from Shane.

"Arms up," he ordered, and Shane followed his orders quickly, letting go of his back and arms shooting up into the air. "Good boy," cooed the farmer as he took the bottom of Shane's shirt within his grasp and quickly pulled it off over his head, revealing the broader man's soft chest, which was covered in thick hair that traveled down his fat stomach, decorating his slightly tanned skin with a lovely purple. Shane swallowed his Adam's apple, bobbing, attracting Bunny's eyes; he wanted to attack it to take it between his teeth and bite and suck, but he had better things to focus on. Bunny's eyes moved back to Shane's chest, hands coming up to gently grasp his supple chest. The two men let out a delighted groan in unison as Bunny's gentle hands grasped each mound of flesh, squeezing them lightly. A calloused thumb swipes over one of Shane's nipples, sending a shock through his body that makes him gasp out, "Bunny..!"

Bunny chuckled and looked up at Shane's face, which was now a scarlet red. He was even panting lightly as the farmer's finger lightly pinched at the nubs till they pebble under his fingers

"Look at you...you look like you're enjoyin' yourself, huh?"

"s-shut up.." said Shane back embarrassed

"Hey, is that any way to speak to the man you're married to?" he laughed and leaned in, his lips almost meeting Shanes's but stopping a few centimeters away, breath smelling like mint. He must have brushed his teeth when he got changed. "Just let yourself let go. I'm gonna show you just how much I enjoy this body of yours." His voice was like sweet cream and honey to Shane's ears.

Bunny pressed his hips down against Shane's, both of them able to feel how unbearably hard the other was confined behind the fabric of their shorts. Both men let out moans in perfect, lustful harmony. Both were red in the face, panting as they continued to grind against each other for just a bit longer before Bunny's hands went to undo the button of his shorts and pulled down the zipper. He stopped his hips as his hand slid past the fabric of his boxers, and he fished out his cock, letting the pink needy tip rest against Shane's stomach. Shane groaned as he felt the warm dribble of precum that had collected at his lover's tip now trailing down his stomach, making the hair on his stomach sticky.

"now.... you're gonna sit here like a good boy....and gonna show you how much I love this body.....just thinking about you makes me want to cum already." said the farmer as he stroked himself slowly only a few times before letting his cock rest right up against the others bare stomach. He scooted as close as he could, pinning his cock against the other. One of his hands rests on Shane's side, helping him keep his position tight against him, while the other goes to Shane's hair, coarse fingertips running through the purple locks, collecting strands and wrapping around them tightly, hand closing in a fist. Bunny forced Shane to look down at his needy dick as it let out more dribbles of pre, "Do you see how hard I already am? It's all because of you." he said, his breathing getting heavy as he grew more and more excited his hand on shanes side tightening its grip he adored the way the man's flesh melded against his hand perfectly filling and squeezing through the gaps between his fingers. Slowly he starts to move his hips, letting himself get off by humping against his husband's stomach, the white precum that leaked out of his tip slicking up and making the hair on Shane's stomach feel wet and sticky.

Both men were moaning, the sounds spurring the other one on, making them feel closer and closer. "N-not even touching you... and you moaning like that?" the farmer teased as he panted for air, face red and a bit sweaty. "Yoba, even the sounds you make are sweet music to my ears."

With a firm grip, he pulled Shane's head back by his hair, exposing that part of his neck that enticed him so much. Shane let out a loud gasp of pleasure, and a bit of drool ran down his chin. Bunny moved his head down, descending upon Shane's exposed neck with his sharp teeth. With each rough bite and hard suck, a new purple mark is left on Shane's neck marking his skin possessively; Shane lets out whimpers at the feeling of Bunny's rough bites to his skin, "G-geez, what are you, a s-stupid teenager or something..?" said Shane mocking the other for being into hickeys still at their age even though each mark made him closer and closer to making a mess of his shorts. "aw come one...I know you like it." said the farmer as his teeth bit down gently on the lump on shanes throat, sucking harshly till he left a dark purple mark behind a proud smirk on his lips as he listened to Shane moan and pant, his hips bucking up trying to give himself some form of friction. "see? You love it....and I love you.." said Bunny as his grip on Shane's side tightened to a bruising degree, as his hips started thrusting a bit more sporadically, his breathing getting heavier. Shanes's hips matched the farmers chasing after the intense feelings as they hurdled towards their explosive end.

The farmer leaned forward, whispering dirty words into Shane's ear, his breath hot against the sensitive flesh of Shane's ear. With only a few more thrusts, both men let out a loud moan of each other's name, the farmer pulling Shane forcefully into a searing kiss. Their lips roughly clashed together in a hungry, sloppy kiss, swallowing each other's sounds of pure bliss. The farmer let out warm spurts of cum covering his lover's stomach, and Shane cumming in his shorts, leaving them a sticky wet mess as he panted for air, cheeks an apple red.

Both men panted heavily, trying to regain themselves. Their foreheads rested upon each other, and a smile spread over their lips. Once their breathing calmed a bit, the realization hit Shane that he had just dirtied his clothes; letting out a groan at the prospect that he'd have to do laundry, "Did you have to make me cum in my shorts, bun?" he asked in a mock annoyed voice. The farmer smirked and slipped off his lap to sit between his lover's thighs, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Oh, don't worry, sunshine, I plan to clean you up and then some."

#my post #stardew shane #stardew valley #fanfic #shane sdv #let me know if i should write more.....i also want to write some mwf2 stuff when i have time

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